#luckily the power at my house is still good

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[cringiestcroissant]

lmao our power at work went out and we just abandoned ship

[followerofmercy]

Networking/Knowing A Guy: A Guide

This is the autism website. Now, as an extension of the power of love and friendship, there are few things more useful than Knowing A Guy. Knowing A Guy means you have a support network. Knowing a plumber, or a tax accountant, or just that one dude that's really fucking good at finding the information you need when you're really overwhelmed, can be the difference between being able to pay rent and having a fun party with friends to fix your shit.

How does one end up Knowing A Guy? It's a skill you can develop called Networking and it is one of the foundations of society. Unfortunately making those connections with people is fucking hard and nobody makes a tutorial for it. So, here you go:

The golden rule is you scratch my back and I scratch yours

It is necessary for survival to seek out useful people

Great news! Everyone is useful in some form or fashion - including you! When given the opportunity to learn about someone, do it! Extroversion does not come naturally to some people and that's okay. Just take whatever falls in your lap.

Types of usefulness: trade skills, connections of their own, personality you jive with, pleasant to talk to, niche interest in shared hobby, security - the list is pretty much endless. I know a guy that lives in the metro area - no job, no major hobbies, inoffensively annoying to me personally, kinda ignorant, not attractive to me, but you know what? He knows how the fuck to get around the city by foot. My rural-raised ass APPRECIATES the guide.

Remember important information: general personality, background, skillset, likes and dislikes. You can find this information by making smalltalk about their life. There is no such thing as pointless conversation. (Yes, even the annoying smalltalk)

The more people you know, the higher the likelihood that one of them will be useful in a given situation - or will know someone who is.

It is overwhelming. In a given clique/community/workspace/whatever, there is A Guy Who Knows The Other Guys. This Guy is a shortcut. Find them. They're often elderly, extroverted, a little bit annoying, a secretary or in some otherwise forward-facing position. Look for people that are gossipy/talk about other people a lot but not in negative ways. If they constantly talk shit, they'll talk shit about you too. They're still useful but be careful with the information you share

You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.

You do not have to like someone for them to be useful.*

If you have low self esteem, you're going to feel like you're using people. You're not. That's the devil talking. People like feeling valued and the connections you are making are the threads holding community together. Recognize people for their talents. It's only a problem when you're taking advantage of people

So: don't feel scummy about it. You're an animal. You have to claw out your right to survive and people will respect you more for it.

Luckily mutualism is the name of the game in the animal kingdom. Offer something back. The foundation of a Know A Guy relationship is Mutual Benefit

Sometimes that Mutual Benefit is just spreading news of the The Guy far and wide. My plumber friend is my actual friend and I love her to death, but I'm maintaining our backscratch relationship by pimping out her plumbing business to anyone that'll listen

Food is a good Mutual Benefit. People across cultures for all of human history have bonded over food. I have good success asking people for a favor and then offering to buy them lunch in return **

General compensation is also good. Offer a service in return and always do your best to offer financial compensation as appropriate. Having your plumber friend take a look at your drain: doable with a case of beer. Having your plumber friend redo the pipes in your entire house? You need to pay for that.

Being transactional is not necessarily a bad thing. I would advise against keeping an itemized list of things owed, but fish don't seek out cleaner shrimp just because they enjoy their company. Everyone gets something

Unfortunately being extroverted and generally personable is a huge benefit here, but that's the value of the Guy That Knows A Guy. There's someone out there that has consolidated All The Guys so you don't have to be the local expert. Always remember nobody can do everything and you don't need to master every skill

* This is the foundation of a functioning community. I have many acquaintances that I find incredibly annoying. They include doctors, welders, artists, social workers, lawyers, construction crew and random fuckers at the grocery store. I do not hang out with them. I do not have to in order to maintain a civil Know A Guy relationship. I can drop them useful tidbits and fuck right off so I don't have to spend any more time than necessary with them

** People may assume romantic intent. Be prepared for that. I generally denote that it's a friendly/work lunch by calling them bro at some point if they're my age. Otherwise my general demeanor is sufficient to show that I do this with everyone

Source: personal experience, mother's teachings of crime, booth vending and poverty

[covenofagatha]

A Helping Hand

You're helping your Professor gather ingredients for a potion she's brewing when you accidentally knock over a jar of sex pollen and need help.

Word count: ~3100

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, fingering, Top Agatha, magic cock, blowjob, magic cum, pure filth, teacher x student, age gap (everyone's legal)

Your brow furrows as you stare at the open spell book in front of you. You have a Potions test tomorrow for Professor Harkness, and evident by your lack of understanding of any of the words on the page, you are not going to do well. 

“What’s wrong?” your roommate, Wanda, asks you. The two of you are the top witches at the Academy of Dark Arts, and yet, neither of you has a strong suit in potions. 

And of course, the Potions teacher, Agatha Harkness, is the hardest teacher you have. 

“This is impossible. How am I supposed to remember that, for the Wolfsbane Potion, you have to stir three times counterclockwise, say this incantation, and then stir four times clockwise, all while making sure I’m continuously pouring in Dragon’s Blood?” Your head hurts just from reading it from the book. 

Wanda snorts. “Agatha doesn’t expect it to be perfect.”

You give her a look. You both know that’s a lie. Agatha is the teacher that makes you redo written homework assignments if you leave too much space between the words. 

The Academy of Dark Arts was a home for witches like you and Wanda: witches that did not have a coven, or even a family. The Academy was supposed to teach girls to harness and understand their powers. 

You have been here the longest, ever since you were twelve. You are almost twenty now. You had always put off taking Potions until you could no longer avoid it, mainly just because of how hard everyone else said it was. You had briefly interacted with Professor Harkness before the class, passing her in the corridors or making eye contact at meals. 

And maybe, just maybe, you had developed a bit of a crush on her once you were in her class. 

Who could blame you, though? She was the definition of perfection, with the way power just exuded from her, and the way her long, dark hair tumbled down to her lower back, and her piercing blue eyes that you suspected could see right into your soul. 

But your little infatuation was not what you needed right now – no, right now, you need to study. 

“I just don’t know anything,” you groan, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t even read my notes.” Agatha often went so fast in class that you had no other option than to just scribble down everything you thought she said as quickly as you could. 

And now you just had pages of illegible chicken scratch. 

“She’s probably still in the green house, why not just go ask her for help,” Wanda says noncommittally, too engrossed in sketching a picture. How she is so calm with this test hanging over the both of you, you have no idea. 

But you nod. That’s a good idea. You can go see Agatha, ask her to clarify a few things, and then stay up all night cramming ingredients and directions into your brain. 

“I’ll be right back,” you promise, and then scoop up your book and your notes. 

You pass by some younger witches in the hallway and you give them a tight-lipped smile. Wanda was really your only friend at the Academy, the other girls too boy-crazy or too self-absorbed for you to really connect with them. 

Other than those girls, though, the Academy is quiet. No sign of any of your other teachers, and you’re sure they’re either in their private quarters or still grading papers in their classrooms. 

You have to leave the main house of the Academy to get to the greenhouse, where Potions takes place. The cold November air stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water, but luckily, it’s a short walk. 

“Hello, Professor Harkness?” you say timidly, knocking on the door as you push it open. She’s sitting at a stool, cutting plants with a sharp knife. Her hair flowing down her back and she's wearing a tight white button-down shirt on that’s tucked into high-waisted purple pants, and a long, navy coat.

She glances up and smiles when she sees it’s you. “Y/n, what can I do for you?” 

“Oh, I just wanted to come see if you could help me clear some things up for the test tomorrow,” you say, a little flustered by how good she looks. 

“Sure thing, hon. First, I need your help. Hand me those powders from over there?” She points the knife over to the counter by the sink and you oblige, grabbing the four vials and putting them down next to her. She picks each one up and examines the label closely. “Ah, shoot. Sorry, dear, could you find the jar with the powdered root of asphodel? It should be in the pantry somewhere. I thought I took it out, but I guess I forgot.” 

“Yeah, of course.” You repeat the powder name in your head a few times so you don’t forget it and then go search for it. 

You finally spot it on the fourth shelf, sitting in the middle of some other jars, and you reach up on your tip-toes to grab it. As you’re pulling down the correct jar, you accidentally knock it into another and it falls to the floor next to you. 

“Shit!” you mutter, immediately crouching down to assess the damage. The jar of some unknown powder has broken and its contents are spilled everywhere. Without even thinking, you start to sweep the powder into your hands so you can try to put it back in the bottom half of the jar that’s still intact. 

You didn’t even notice Agatha coming over after she heard the noise. “Everything okay – don’t touch any of that!” she exclaims, seeing the bottle that broke on the floor.

You drop the mound of powder in your hands and whirl around, eyes wide open. 

“What is it?” you ask, afraid of the answer, but she doesn’t give you one, instead opting to pull you by the sleeve over to the sink. 

“Wash your hands now,” she demands and stands there watching you scrub your skin until it’s red. “How do you feel?” 

“I feel fine,” you say, but as you say that, you notice something. There’s an unmistakable heat growing in your stomach. And it only gets worse when Agatha places a hand against your forehead. You lean into the touch and have to forcibly bite your tongue so you don’t moan. 

She looks you up and down and you can feel yourself getting hotter. You’re sure your cheeks are flushed. 

You’ve never felt this way before. 

“Um, just out of curiosity, what was that powder?” you ask, wetness pooling between your thighs. The ache between your legs is becoming hard to ignore. 

Agatha meets your eyes. “It’s called sex pollen.” Your heart skips a beat. “I honestly forgot it was back there. I came across some a few decades ago and wanted to study it.”

You swallow hard. “So if someone gets some of it in their system, do they just need to touch…” You feel yourself blushing, not quite believing you’re asking Agatha Harkness if masturbation is the key to get this heat inside you to die down. 

She smirks. “You can’t get it out of your system by yourself.”

Well, fuck. “There’s no other way?” 

“Where would the fun in that be?” She winks playfully, and you wonder if she’s ever used it, or used it on someone else. “But you said you feel fine so you shouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Right,” you reply shakily. Her fingers brush a strand of hair out of her face and you literally clench at the sight of them. You feel so empty, so needy, so desperate for her. 

“You said you had some questions for the test tomorrow?” She takes the root of asphodel that you had forgotten you were holding and beckons you back over to where she’s working. She pats the stool next to you and you sit, the pressure on your clit making you jump. 

You just have to make it through this, go back to your room, and then drag Wanda out with you to a club or something so you can get fucked. 

The only problem is, you’re not sure you can wait that long. Your hips have started squirming on the stool beneath you and you can’t control it. 

“Um, so,” you start, opening up the textbook to the Wolfsbane Potion you were studying earlier. “The directions for this potion are–”

You’re cut off by her putting her hand on top of yours and you literally whimper at the contact. You stiffen and see her turn her full body towards you, taking in the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead, your darkened eyes, the way your hips are moving on the seat. 

“Oh, you poor baby,” she taunts. 

You give up the pretense of being unaffected by the pollen. “Professor, I’m so…I need…please…I think the pollen...” 

She laughs. “Yes, dear, I think the pollen got into your system. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?” 

You blush at the implication of Agatha asking if you have a fuck buddy and then shake your head pathetically. “I was gonna go out with Wanda and try to find someone,” you mumble. “I’ve never…” You trail off, not wanting your incredibly hot professor to hear you say out loud that you’re a virgin. 

“Honey, you can’t have your first time with a random person from a bar,” she tuts. “Plus, sex pollen amplifies feelings you already have. Getting fucked by a random person won’t help as much as by a person you already want.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” you whine. “Can you…will you…please?” You can tell the pollen is affecting your ability to think straight because there is no way you just asked your centuries-old professor to fuck you. You’re about ready to run out of the room and die of embarrassment when she grins. 

“You want me to help you?” 

Your breath catches. “Professor, please, please, I need it. I need you. I just feel so…hot.” 

“I’ll say,” she says appreciatively, this time letting her eyes wander over you slowly. “Are you sure? I don’t want you regretting this when the pollen wears off.” 

You shake your head. “I won’t. I’m sure. I want you so bad. I have for a while. And you said it has to be someone you already want.” 

Her eyes darken. “Get on the table.” 

You’ve never moved so fast in your life. She takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere else in the room, and then her hands are cupping your breasts and her mouth is on yours. 

You moan hungrily into her hot mouth, feeling her tongue against yours. Your hands tangle in her hair, pulling it gently, and she groans into your mouth. Agatha quickly undoes the clasp of your bra and finds your nipples, tugging at them. She kisses down your neck and your fingers leave her hair to hike up your skirt. 

“So eager for me,” she whispers against your clavicle. You gasp when she bites down. 

“Please, professor, touch me.” 

“I am touching you,” she teases, fingertips lightly skimming down your stomach. You tense at the touch as she gets lower. 

Your moan is downright pornographic when she first slides her hand into your underwear, sliding through your folds. She makes a sound as well. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked,” she says. 

“All for you,” you say weakly, hips grinding up and down against her fingers. She’s yet to touch your clit, but you fear the second she does, you’ll cum. 

“My dirty girl.” Agatha finally pushes her middle finger into you and you clench down immediately, needing more. She easily finds the spot that makes you squeal, and her thumb brushes against your clit. “Do you think you can take another finger?” 

“Oh my god, yes,” you enthusiastically agree and she slides in her ring finger as well. It’s a bit of a stretch but you’ve never felt better. 

“Your cunt feels so good around me,” Agatha says, grabbing your chin with her other hand so you meet her eyes. “So wet, so warm. I want to stay here forever. You can’t get enough of my fingers, can you?” 

“No, Professor, I love your fingers,” you babble, right on the edge. She knows it too. 

“Be a good girl and come for mommy,” she whispers right into your ear, her hot breath warm, and the name, coupled with the way she twists her fingers and roughly strokes your clit, sends you climaxing. 

“Fuckkkk,” you moan, your nails digging into her shoulders. She fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm and then slowly pulls her fingers, which are drenched, out of you. You can’t help but feel empty and the heat inside you isn’t completely gone. 

Before you can say anything, she slides her wet fingers into your mouth and you lazily lap at your juices. She bites her lip at the feeling. 

“How are you feeling now, baby girl?” 

Her fingers leave your mouth with a pop. “Better but I still think I need more.” 

Her eyebrow raises playfully. “My fingers weren’t enough to quell your thirst?” 

You shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I think I know something that might help.” She waves her hand and a poof of purple smoke appears. You’re not quite sure what she did, but she gives you a wicked grin and unzips her pants, pulling out a purple strap-on. 

Your mouth falls open. 

She grabs a hold of the base and starts to stroke herself, groaning. 

“Wait, can you-” 

She looks up at you. “Feel it?” She nods. “I wanna feel you clench around my cock. Wanna fill you up.” 

You let out a small gasp. “Mommy, please, I need your cock.” 

She steps back over to you and runs a hand up your slit, collecting your wetness, which she then rubs on her cock. “You’re plenty wet already, but why don’t you get on your knees and show me how much of a good girl you can be.” 

She doesn’t have to tell you twice. You practically fall to the ground in front of her, ignoring the sharp pain in your knees. You look up at her, awaiting instruction, and she bites her lip softly at the sight of you. 

She puts a hand on your head and pushes you closer. “Put a hand around the base and then run your tongue up and down the length.” 

You do as you’re told and you delight in the loud moan that tears from her mouth. Her hand just rests on your head as you then experimentally suck the tip of her cock between your lips. 

“Good girl,” she says gruffly, and her praise drives you to test the waters and go down further. You bob your head on her dick, never breaking eye contact. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so hot.” 

Meanwhile, the need inside you is growing so much you can barely fight the urge to slip a hand up your skirt. But you don’t. You figure Agatha won’t like that, and also, you want to focus all your attention on making her feel good. 

“Such a dirty slut on her knees for mommy. So desperate for this cock,” she says and you groan around the strap-on, making her hands tighten in your hair. She pulls you back and a string of saliva connects your lips to her. “Get up.” 

Once you’re standing in front of her, she flips you around and bends your front over the table so she’s standing behind you. She pushes your skirt up and traces your pussy with her cock, sliding it up your slit to your clit and then back. You’re grinding against her, trying to get some stimulation. 

“Are you ready?” Agatha asks. 

“Yes,” you answer, voice hoarse with anticipation. You feel her line the tip up with your hole and then slowly start to push in. 

Both of you moan. She is so big but the stretch is exactly what you need. Once she bottoms out, she holds still for a second, letting you adjust to her size. 

“You take my cock so well.” And then she’s pulling out and thrusting back in, picking up speed and intensity. You lift a leg up so she’s able to get deeper and you can feel her hips stutter. “You pretend to be so innocent but look at how desperate you are for me. Just a little slut, needing me to fill her up.” 

“Yes, just a slut for you, mommy.” 

Her nails dig into your hip and her other hand comes down to rub your clit. You clench around her. 

“You’re so tight, so hot, you feel so good squeezing my dick,” Agatha murmurs, saying the filthiest things right into your ear. You’re so close and it’s only been a few minutes of her pounding into you. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Her hand leaves your clit and you gasp. 

“Not yet, baby, wait for mommy. Do you want me to fill you up?” 

“Want you to fill me up, mommy, wanna feel you dripping out of me,” you babble. 

“Oh shit, baby, gonna cum in you. Cum for me,” she says, and you do. This orgasm is even more intense than the one before and you feel her give you one last hard thrust before warmth spreads through your cunt. She stills for just a second and then gingerly pulls out. You can feel her cum dripping out of your hole and down your leg and it almost makes you cum again. 

Agatha turns you around and spreads your legs so she can watch it better. She takes two fingers and lazily smears her cum mixed with yours all over your pussy lips. She raises her fingers to your lips and you eagerly taste both of your juices, moaning around them. 

“Do you feel better now?” she asks, a playful glint in her eyes. 

You sigh dramatically. “For now. But who’s to say I won’t get into more sex pollen some other time?”

She chuckles and matches your smirk with one of her own. “Well, I guess I better keep a careful eye on you then.” 

[leafyeyes417]

Danny was tired. Tucker and Sam had drifted away over the duration of high school. The ghost attacks and danger had been the main factor that started the dissipation of their friendship. Jazz had left for college a while ago leaving him to deal with his parents alone. He had eventually created his own secret base and left the house permanently even if it was technically illegal at 16. No one noticed since he still went to school.

Including being a teen hero who wasn’t appreciated in Amity just was the icing on the cake. After receiving approval from clockwork and mastering his portal abilities, he closed the portal down. It wasn’t easy to do but he made sure everyone was out of the blast range when it shut down. The Fenton house was gone but it hadn’t been home for quite some time.

It was because he was so tired that he was where he was. Drifting out of Earth’s atmosphere, Danny let himself luxuriate in the feeling of space. It made his core hum pleasantly. He moved to a good spot still in Earth’s gravity and curled up and just let himself drift along in a haze. He toned down his glow and his body started to slowly fade into the space around him till he was practically invisible.

He floated in this haze for probably a week, slowly recuperating and feeling himself slowly change. There was no one to miss him for any length of time and he wasn’t worried about his human life at all. Honestly he probably would have drifted longer but something woke him up. Some guy yelling about conquering Earth or something.

Annoyed at being woken up by a fruitloop Danny allowed his form to grow with the power of space he collected and snarled out a “Oy fruitloop! I was woken up because of you! Shut up already!” and smacked him into the sun with a giant hand. Turning his ire on the army with the fruitloop he quickly sent them flying with a blast of power. It would take them many years to gather up again with how hard he sent them flying.

Huffing, he turned and glanced at the group of people left. Shrinking down he spoke and gestures wildly. “I was taking the best nap of my afterlife and was woken up by those pests. You gotta better place I can nap?”

Luckily someone was quick to let him know they had a place. He was guided to a space station soon after and was soon sleeping on the comfiest bed ever.

[mynameisjag]

Danny Phantom/DC Prompt Idea: Forced Recovery

It seemed no matter where he went, he was never safe.

Breaking through Amity's block, finally getting the attention of older actual heroes, who jumped to help them, the Ecto-Acts proving to be false claims upheld by the now debunk and dismantled G.I.W.

Danny should have been safe now, should have been able to continue with his life a little easier now…

Instead he found himself snatched up and placed with a family that were pure strangers, far from his home and the now shut-downed portal, his parents arrested and waiting a trial, and Jazz barred from seeing or knowing his whereabouts and health.

He was trapped in a mansion with rich fruitloops, an anklet bracelet that monitored his health and would trigger an alarm if he went passed the gates.

House arrest with the excuse of it being for his benefit, the Justice League saying that there was still Agents out there looking for him, families from Amity realizing that most of the damage to their town was his own family’s fault and they couldn’t get to his parents as easy as they could get to him, then they threw in concerns of his health.

With the portal closed, he would have to rely on environmental ecto, so low ecto meant low power usage, he was practical malnourished, overstressed, overworked, underweight, a list that was more like a novel by the time the doctor got through with his examination.

It all came together in one big warm shit pie.

He just needed to wait this out…wait for his parents verdict…wait for his health to get better…wait till Jazz was allowed to get in touch with him…wait…all he can do is wait…

For now, he was going to get breakfast and hide away from the rest of the residents of the Manor.

Gotham was blessed and cursed with an abundance of ecto just floating around, enough to aid his healing and health…not enough to restore the levels he needed to regain his full strength and powers though.

Even with the filter he created to concentrate the ambient ecto into a pick me up drink, he wasn’t gaining health as fast has he liked to.

Speaking of his filter, the contraption sat next to Tim’s near worshiped coffee pot, granted it was built out of refurbished carbonated soda stream, so it didn’t look too out of place in the kitchen. And luckily it seemed the only person up right now was Alfred, the older man smiling gently at him as Danny grabbed his thermos to fill it up for the day.

“It’s good to see you up and about.”

“Just filling up for the day before heading back to my room.”

“Of course, as usual, rest is good for your health but so is social interaction.”

Ah...that was a…hint…wasn’t it…he guessed he has to fill the social quota himself before the others decided to do it themselves.

[marvelstan0905]

Hi! I was wondering if you could a kenji x female reader where we've both not been very intimate in a long time because kenji's career and ultraman has kept him really busy and one night reader confronts him about it and then they argue and then reader gives him silent treatment and he ends up eating her out

"Let me make it up to you"

BF!Kenji Sato X GF!Reader [Oneshot :Angst-Smut-Fluff]

TW:arguement/silent treatment/smut/eating out/oral(f!receiving)/afab reader/female bodied reader/fingering/petnames/shouting/mixed POV/not proofread yet/angst to smut/swearing

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

"God! Why can't you just give me a break Y/n!? I'm so overwhelmed and so busy!" Kenji snapped exasperated. The two of you had been fighting for a few minutes now. You just offered to cuddle for a little bit, just hoping that Kenji could let off some steam since getting really liked cuddles and his life's been so hectic. As the good girlfriend you were, you were just worried and concerned. You couldn't do much and that helpless feeling just didn't sit well for you. The least you could is be there for your boyfriend and offer him some comfort. "I just need space! Lots of it!"

"Kenji I'm just trying to give you comfort-"

"I don't want your comfort! You're so damn clingy! God. Can you just leave me alone?"Kenji sighed in annoyance. My heart pangs feeling a tightening feeling within your chest. It hurt. Raising my hands in surrender, I sighed. Those words stung. Is that really what he thought of me? I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and excuse it as the overwhelming and frustration he was feeling.

"I'll leave you alone." Was all you said before grabbing a hold of your jacket, purse and phone. With a harsh wipe of your cheeks, you left the house.

Kenji who was sitting on the couch with his back turned to the door sighed and ran a hand through his , already disheveled, raven hair. Kenji felt a heat and heaviness through his chest. He felt really guilty and bad. God what had he done?

"Way to go, Ken. Losing everybody and everything left and right. As always" Kenji exhaled before sliding his long calloused hands down his face.

Few Days Later

Silent treatment. No texts. No calls.

Just you like you promised, you would leave Kenji alone. Even when he did call and text, you wouldn't answer. As you made dinner in your cold, lonely apartment you heard the sound of keys jiggle in the door way. With a raised eyebrow, you grabbed the bat which Kenji gifted you and waited for the perpetrator to come through the hallway. As soon as I saw a shadow I swung with all my might.

"Baby! Wait! Y/n! It's me!" Kenji exclaimed raising his hands in surrender as he luckily dodged the powerful swing. God, he was glad he taught you how to swing but if he wasn't careful, he would've lost his head. With a sigh of relief and groan, you dropped the bat and turned to go back to making dinner with not a word. Kenji exhaled before following you into the kitchen. "H..How have you been, babe? I've called and texted you..alot."

Silence.

Kenji leaned against the counted adjacent to you and gently took a hold of your hand. With a scoff,you pulled your hand away. Kenji's frown deepened. His eyes had deep bags and he truly looked as if he hadn't slept in days. It didn't seem like he had eaten considering the dullness of his slightly sunken cheeks.

"Sweetie. Please? Can we talk? I'm so sorry. I really need to hear your voice. Even if you're gonna curse me out or whatever..just please"Kenji pleaded. Nothing. With a turn of a knob, you turned off the stove. Kenji couldn't stand the silence anymore. God, he couldn't. With a gentle grasp of your forearms , Kenji turned you to look at him. With a blank expression you turned to face him with eyes void of emotions. Even if you were still upset, you did love the bastard and would hear him out.

"Honey. I know I have no excuse for how I treated you, how I spoke to you, the horrible horrible words I said to you. I truly am sorry. I didn't know how good I had it till I didn't hear your voice or saw you anymore. You're everything to me and you just wanted my time and love but I was stupid and took my frustrations out on you. The only person who i truly have right now. Please...Please forgive me. Even if it's not now..I'm just begging to hear your voice" Kenji spoke sincerely. I sighed and crossed my arms. Those goddamn sad eyes. The man looked like a kicked puppy. Sad and lost.

With a gentle flick of his forehead, you mumbled out "Fine..I forgive you. Doesn't mean I'll forget it...atleast not yet. You really hurt my feelings. I was really just trying to help and spend time with you. You're really mean you know that right?"

Kenji felt like he finally take a breath of fresh air as he pulled you into his strong arms and placed a kiss onto your forehead. He felt so relieved to hear your voice. That beautiful voice. The voice that soothed all the storms in his heart. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Just..please don't leave. I love you so much"

"You're kinda stuck with me, idiot. Even if your behavior says otherwise. I love you too" I grumbled out whiles laying my head against his chest. Kenji felt the relieve wash over his body. With a grasp of your soft thighs in his large hands, Kenji picked you up and placed me onto the edge of the counter.

Kenji looked deep into my eyes and pressed his forehead against mine "I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. I'll make it up. I swear it. All the cuddles and kisses. I won't neglect you again, okay?"

The couple shared kisses and cute nuzzles. They still hadn't properly talked it out but this was definetly the start of talking it out and sorting it out. Kenju nestled his head into his girlfriend's neck and breathed in her scent. God, he missed her feel, touch, smell and taste. Now, probably was the most ideal but the man was hungry and he hadn't had a proper meal in a few days. With a teasing nibble to his girlfriend's neck, Kenji slid his hands down and underneath the oversized t-shirt his girlfriend wore.

"You know..I missed you so much. So so much " Kenji whispered mischievously whiles sliding his large fingers up her thighs, sliding his fingers in between her legs whiles caressing her inner thighs. You raised a brow, but didn't protest. You did miss his touch and..talents.

⚠️SMUT STARTS BELOW HERE⚠️

"Mhmm. I missed you too, baby but what are you up to?" I questioned skeptically his hands inched closer to my clothed heat. Kenji pulled me closer and spread my legs wider.

"I'm making it up to you. I have to start somewhere, right? I really wanna show how sorry I am, baby."Kenji breathed lowly, with faux innocence. His methodic and skilled habds, ripped your thin panties off and disregarded them somewhere on the floor. With a yelp, you closed your thighs feeling the cool air against your core.

"B-Babe! H-Hey! Thats the 20th pair you've ripped up! C'mon!" I whined whiles shakily holding my thighs together. I was shaking from anticipation and slight frustration.

"Oh I'm sorry,baby. Guess I don't know my own strength. Guess you'll need something to warm you up. I know the perfect thing" Your boyfriend rasped, 'apologetically' as he forced open those soft thighs, plush legs of yours and held them open. His beautiful mauve eyes had darkened, completely dilating as his eyes laid on your glistening lips. "Aww, how cute. You missed me that much? You're so wet already"

With a denying scoff, you looked away with a sheepish flush on your cheeks. "S-Shut up. Put that tongue and mouth to good use"

"Okay. Okay. I'm getting to it. Let's get something straight though.. I'm in charge" Kenji whispered firmly into your ear before nibbling onto your earlobe. My breath hitched and my blood ran hot. God, he was so hot. Your boyfriend gently but firmly pushed you onto your back on the kitchen counter before holding your legs open by the knees. "Mhmm you smell so good. I missed you, my love. So much"

Kenji uttered as he took a deep inhale of the scent of your arousal. With a small whimper, you could only nod. He's already got you tongue tied. My breath hitched.

"W-Will you be gentle?" I breathed whiles leaning into the kisses that he peppered my neck. It had been a while since we made love. His hands teased at my entrance.

Kenji smirks against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "Gentle? I don't make promises like that, darling. But I'll make sure you feel every inch of my cock as I fill you up." His fingers tease your entrance, circling the sensitive bud before pushing inside.

"T-Thought you always keep promises?" I gasped feeling his long fingers stretching my velvelty walls open. He gives a low chuckle, his fingers curling inside of you.

"I do try to keep my promises. But I also like to keep things interesting. Plus I'm making up to you, babe" His thumb begins to circle your clit as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, stretching you wide.

"I-Im not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, huh?" I mewled whiles spreading my legs. I gasped as I felt his long, warm tongue at my entrance. Kenji smirks up at you, his tongue sliding up to your clit, teasing it with every flick.

"Oh, I hope not. I want you to feel me inside of you for days." His fingers continue to fuck you hard and fast, driving you closer and closer to the edge. That's it. All Kenji wanted and needed. To make you feel good, to be with you, to hear you.

"D-Dear christ..K-Kenji that's vulgar" I moaned as my walls convulsed around his fingers. I flushed feeling the tip of his tongue slide through my pussy lips.

Kenji chuckled, his fingers thrusting deep inside you as he begins to fuck you harder. "I never claimed I was gonna be a gentleman today, my love. I like it dirty and rough. You know that? I wanna make you feel so good and make up for the time we missed"

His tongue laps at your entrance, licking up your juices as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"C-Clearly" I moaned. My moans rose in volume and pitch as my hands tugged at his hair "H-How dirty can that m-mouth get?" He smirks against you, his tongue flicking against your clit. God, Kenji was enjoying this. He missed his your taste and scent.

"I'll show you just how dirty this mouth can get. Im gonna make a mess of you"Kenji promises as he begins to suck on your clit, his fingers thrusting hard and fast inside of you.

"God...mhm!" I moaned as my body began to wirthe and squirm beneath him. It felt so good. God I could feel his long fingers stretching me out and brushing against my sensitive walls."G-God I m-missed you!"

His voice is husky and rough as he continues to suck and lick at your clit, his fingers pistoning in and out at a punishing pace. "I know, baby. I missed you more. Let me hear that voice of yours" Kenji demands as he smirks up at you, his hand still working you hard. That beautiful voice of yours. Those days without hearing you, without feeling you, without tasting you were PURE torture. "Oh, I'm just getting started."

"K-Kenji..i-im uh..close" I purred as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I was so close. So close to that euphoric finish line. His fingers curl up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you.He chuckles against you, his tongue continuing to swirl around your clit. I moaned.

Eventually I ended up screaming as I climaxed. I was in heaven seeing literal stars. I cursed making a mess all over his fingers as I screamed"O-Oh God! F-Fuxk! K-Kenji!"

Kenji's fingers continue to move inside of you, slowing down now that you've climaxed, though he doesn't remove them just yet. "Good girl. Now for round 2" His voice is husky with desire, his tongue coming out to lick at your juices still dripping from you. I squirmed beneath him as I felt my body calming down from the high. I was so sensitive.

"I love you so much. Now let me make it up to you"

[eomayas]

(you’re not) my boyfriend • csc

pairing: non-idol!cheol x f!reader, situationship (yikes!),

genre: angst, fluff, suggestive (16+ fs)

synopsis: seungcheol is NOT your boyfriend!!! right? RIGHT?????

warnings: suggestive content, toxic!cheol, jealous!cheol, seungcheol is a smoker, arguing, miscommunication

a/n: luv toxic scoups. reader is messy boots!

joshua greets you with a hug and ushers you inside the house. “you look good,” he says, a smile on his face. you take a few steps ahead of him and do a 360, arms held out to the sides.

“i know, right,” you say, smirking at him and walking further into the house, towards commotion in the kitchen. shot glasses and liquor bottles, along with cans of beer and seltzers, litter the countertops. soonyoung and jeonghan cheers before each of them throw back a shot. “ooh, let me have one.” you say walking over to the two of them.

jeonghan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grabs a bottle. “you look nice,” he compliments, eyeing you before pouring liquid into a glass and handing it over to you.

you smile at the compliment and throw back the shot. the compliments aren’t uncommon, nor are they unappreciated—sometimes you think they do it purposefully to piss off seungcheol, though you haven’t got enough evidence. but you do look good, just like you had intended, and you’re happy people notice.

the alcohol burns your throat and you scrunch your face up as it slides down your throat. “one more?” jeonghan asks, an amused grin on his face.

“definitely,” you say, bumping your hip into soonyoungs as a greeting. jeonghan pours you another shot, and just as you reach out to grab it, it’s plucked from his hand by somebody else. you smell him before you see him—cologne mixed with the faint smell of tobacco—and look up to glare at seungcheol as he drinks your shot, his eyes playful behind the glass. it makes you feel warm, and slightly giddy, despite the look on your face.

“you weren’t going to say hi?” he asks, setting the glass down on the counter. he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the surface, an eyebrow raised. the faint smell of cigarettes wafts through the room, suggesting that he just came back inside from having a smoke.

“of course i was,” you say, shifting nervously as he ogles you. his gaze is heavy and piercing—watchful—and makes you feel naked. he’s the only person you feel this way with, and you wish you didn’t. seungcheol definitely knows he makes you feel this way, and likes knowing this fact. it makes him feel powerful, and slightly possessive over you though he’d never say it out loud. it almost makes you forget other people are around because it’s like it’s just the two of you. “just wanted a shot first.” you say, clasping your hands in front of you cutely.

the corner of seungcheols lip quirks and you try to fight the smile that threatens to break out across your face. seungcheol reaches for you and pulls your towards him by your hips, his hand sliding to rest on your ass once your pulled flush against him. “hi,” he says, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“hi, cheol,” you murmur, hands pressed flag against his firm chest. he peers down at you for a beat, a small smirk on his face. despite being nearly the same height as him in your heels, you still feel small under his gaze. seungcheol dips his head down towards you lips, and you meet him the rest of the way. you melt against him, hands slithering up his chest and loosely wrap around his neck.

the kiss in languid yet sensual, and his hand skating under your short skirt does nothing to keep your thoughts pure. but you push his hand away and pull back from his lips. “you do know that there are three other people in here, right?” you ask, yelping when he grabs a handful of your ass, right under your skirt. “stop it, cheol!” you squeal, slapping him on the chest and getting out of his grasp. he just smirks at you stupidly, and you wish you weren’t the teeniest bit turned on.

luckily, soonyoung chooses that moment to drunkenly call out to you to take a shot. “y/n, take a shot with me!” you happily slip out from seungcheols grip, flipping him off and sticking out your tongue when he flips you off because you’re leaving him alone.

you take the shot that is presented to you, and you and soonyoung hook your arms together and tip back your glasses. the liquid goes down smoother than the first shot, and you decide to take another, and another.

you’re tipsy by the time chan, seokmin, and mingyu arrive, and you greet them all with drunken hugs. everybody is crowded around the dining room table now, half empty cans everywhere. you rest your chin on joshua’s shoulder and hold onto his waist for support. his arm is draped around your hips, holding you upright so you don’t eat shit tripping over your feet.

a shot is slid across the table to you, and you grab it and cheers mingyu and seokmin. “you’ve had enough,” seungcheol says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and stealing your shot for the second time tonight. you whine at him as he drinks it instead, and tell seokmin to pour you another. “y/n, you can barely stand up.” he says, cutting his eyes at joshua and tugging you off of him and into his side instead, his face stern.

“you suck,” you grumble, cuddling into his side despite how you feel. seungcheol looks at you and raises his eyes, a challenging look one your face at your comment. “yeah, and i swallow, we know.” you say, beating him to his own punchline. rolling your eyes, you grab a random can of seltzer off the table.

seungcheol snickers and lets you take a sip of the drink before taking it out of your hands. “i’ll buy you drinks at the club, okay?” he says, finger kneading your hips. you wave him off and huff against him. “you’re such a child.” he mutters, chucking to himself and shaking his head.

“and you’re an ass,” you say. seungcheol snorts and you try pulling out of his grasp. “joshie, help.” you say, tugging on his arm. he turns, an amused look on his face. he flicks his eyes over to seungcheol and gives him a playful smile as he pulls you from seungcheol grasp and into his side again. “byeeee!” you say, singsong like to seungcheol, wiggling your fingers in a mock-wave at him.

seungcheol smiles, but there’s irritation behind his eyes. his nose twitches when joshua wraps his arm around your waist, his hand coming to rest on your other hip as he pulls you in front of him. seungcheol technically has no reason to really feel upset because you’re not even his girlfriend. but you are his—whether that’s been discussed or not.

he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, snd grabs the bottle of vodka and shot glass, and pours one up. he downs it with encouragement from a few of his friends, and sighs. chan claps his hand on seungcheols shoulder. “hyung, it’ll be okay,” he says sincerely. seungcheol frowns and shrugs the younger man off of him.

“respectfully, chan, shut the fuck up,” he grumbles. you snap your attention to seungcheol, guffawing at his tone and choice of words to chan.

“be nice,” you say, hands resting atop joshua’s that are flat against your stomach. seungcheol glares at you, his eyes narrowing nearly to slits. you frown back at him and squirm in joshua’s hold as his eyes drag down your frame, his gaze lingering on where joshua has you pinned to him. seungcheol mutters something under his breath that you don’t hear. “what?”

“nothing,” he barks, chugging the rest of the seltzer and lightly crushing the can in his hand.

“freak,” you mutter to yourself, returning to your conversation with soonyoung and joshua.

“oh, the ubers are here,” jeonghan announces, shrugging on his jacket. everybody quickly drops what they’re doing to grab phones, wallets, jackets, and keys. joshua lets go of you to grab his things, and you stumble after soonyoung. you yelp when you trip, catching yourself on the wall as hands steady you by the waist.

“i told you,” seungcheol says, wrapping an arm securely around you waist as he leads you out of the front door.

“whatever.”

“the words you’re looking for are: thank you,” he says matter of factly. you roll your eyes and duck into the uber when he opens the door for you. he slides in after you, squishing you between his shoulders and soonyoungs. “god, i can’t move back here.” he mumbles, shifting so his back is pressing against the door.

seungcheol goes back to his previous brooding, and he’s silent most of the ride. you and soonyoung chat away, and when you laugh a little too hard and one of soonyoungs jokes and lean into him, seungcheol places a heavy hand on your leg. you ignore the gesture, but it’s like somebody poured hot wax down your spine.

you all arrive at the club, and immediately skip the line because their friend vernon is djing tonight. “you want a drink?” seungcheol asks, mouth on your ear and his arm wrapped tightly around you. the alcohol in your system keeps your nerves at bay and makes you relax in his hold.

you nod and turn to look at him, his lips dangerously close to your own. you flick your eyes down to his mouth, eyes lingering for a brief moment before you continue shuffling towards the crowded bar.

seungcheol orders drinks for the two of you much quicker than you would have if you were alone. you watch in awe as seungcheol gets the bartenders attention, leaning halfway over the counter to give the orders instead of yelling at him. his hand stays secured on the small of your back the entire time, tugging you closer when more people crowd the bar.

despite the cramped space and the many people shouting at the bartender over the music, your drinks come fairly quickly. seungcheol gives you yours and grabs ahold of your hand and leads you through the club to the section vernon got for his friends.

you follow seungcheol over to one of the couches. mingyu, chan, and jeonghan already sitting there. the four of them fall into conversation while you bob along to the music playing. you dont really chime in, because they’re talking about things you’re not interested in, but you’re getting bored. “cheol, i’m gonna go dance,” you say, gently shaking his shoulder.

“yeah, alright,” he says quickly, waving you off and going back to whatever mingyu was talking about. you roll your eyes and hop up, fixing your skirt before walking down to the dance floor. you really wanted to dance with him, and expected him to follow you down here but he didn’t, and you feel a bit silly being down here alone, not even with a friend. but you’re put at ease only a few minutes later, because you’re approached to dance with a handsome-enough stranger, and you accept, pulling him into the center of the dance floor.

seungcheol realizes you actually left much too late, and excuses himself to go find you. it’s much too crowded and too dark to really see you through the sea of bodies. seungcheol stands at the perimeter of the dance floor and scans the crowd, running a frustrated hand through his hair. he doesn’t know where you are, and when he does another sweep of the dance floor he spots joshua and is filled with mild relief. he starts to make his way over to his friend until he realizes the person he’s dancing with isn’t you like he thought it was. “damnit,” he mutters to himself.

taking a breath, seungcheol starts pushing through bodies, not caring about who he bumps into. his eyes flick from corner to corner in search of you. he is about to give up and start calling you until he notices a familiar figure swaying to the beat of the music. yeah, he’d recognize your ass anywhere, even in the dark.

the person behind you isn’t familiar, though, and his hands are roaming over your backside in such a way that lights a flame of jealousy in his chest. he watches the two of you like some voyeur, getting more and more pissed the longer her stands there. his hand involuntarily closes into a fist, and he comes to the conclusion that he needs a cigarette.

seungcheol is about to turn away, to let it go and smoke out his nerves until you straighten up against the man behind you, snaking an arm around his neck. his lips ghost over your neck and your jaw, and that’s when seungcheol snaps. he marches over to the two of you, his hand reaching out for the man’s shoulder and yanking him back without a care. “let’s go,” he says to you, mouth near your ear so you can clearly hear his words and his tone.

“what the fuck, man? do you have a boyfriend?” he shouts, his face screwed up in an incredulous expression.

just as you vehemently say “no!”, seungcheol shouts “yes!” and grabs onto your wrist and pulls you towards him. you frown up at him and yank yourself away from him, but the guys already walked off. “what were you doing?” seungcheol asks you, taking a step closer to you.

all you feel is anger and frustration. your hands are balled into fists, swinging at your sides. you try to speak, but you’re so pissed at him, for his behavior and his attitude. “what the fuck is your problem?”

seungcheol wipes around his mouth and takes a step back from you. “have a smoke with me,” he says, nodding his head towards the back of the club. you stare at him, jaw clenched tight. after a moment, you scoff and push past him, fighting. your way through the sea of people to get out of the dance floor. you’re fuming, practically running, despite having sore feet, to get out of the club and away from seungcheol.

rounding the corner to the designated smoking section outside of the club, you place your hands on your hips and pace back and forth. “what is wrong with you?” you bark, glaring over at seungcheol.

he slides a pack out of his jeans and pulls out a cigarette and his lighter. he takes his time putting it between his lips and cupping his hands around the end to light it, blowing out smoke upwards before answering you. “not a damn thing,” he grumbles, eyeing you.

there’s a breeze outside that would probably bother you if you weren’t keeping warm from anger and alcohol. “bullshit. you’re not my fucking boyfriend, seungcheol!” you cry, throwing your hands up.

“why were you about to kiss him? hmm?”

“i wasn’t about to kiss him!” but you’re actually not sure. his mouth wasn’t necessarily unwanted on your neck, and you were egging him on, leaning into him and tipping your head up. you don’t know what you were going to do if seungcheol hadn’t showed up and caused a scene. “but that doesn’t even matter because you are not my boyfriend.”

seungcheol holds the cigarette between his lips and squints at you, his head tilting to the side like he’s trying to figure you out, like you’re playing a joke on him and he’s waiting for cameras to pop out. “so you just go around flirting with and kissing on other dudes when i’m not around?” he questions, feeling like he needs another cigarette (he hasn’t even finished smoking this one).

scoffing, you shaking your head and begin pacing again. “you’re impossible. are you not listening to a word i’m saying?”

“i hear you; i know im not your boyfriend—got it. now answer my question,” he says, blowing out cigarette smoke. you glare at him, hands still on your hips. seungcheol can’t help it when he checks you out; you’re sexy even when you’re yelling at him—maybe even more.

rolling your eyes, you jut your left hip out, relieving the pressure on your feet. “so what if i do?” you snap. you’re only trying to piss him off, and by the looks of it, it’s working. he pulls the cigarette from his lips and shakes his head at you, scoffing with an irritated grin on his face. “why do you care? you are not my boyfriend!”

“jesus fucking christ, you’ve said that already! i fucking know that i’m not your boyfriend! can you talk about something else?” he spits. you scoff for the second time and mutter out a ‘fuck you’, crossing your arms over your chest.

you pace again, partly because you feel restless and partly because you’re starting to get cold. “goddamnit,” you groan, rubbing your hands against your arms to generate heat.

“what?” he barks, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and stomping on it with his toe.

“i’m cold, seungcheol, and my feet hurt—thank you for asking,” you’re just as snippy, tone full of sarcasm and your jaw tense. he rolls his eyes but shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to you. you narrow your eyes at him, dropping your gaze to his outstretched hand. his jacket is leather, and warm, and inviting, but you have almost too much pride to accept it.

“just take it,” he sighs, as if he read your mind, thrusting it at you. you bite the inside of your cheek and snatch it from him and pull it on. “are you done?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“are you? you are the one with a problem, not me,” you reply, looking at him pointedly. seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, lightly tugging. he runs his tongue over his teeth and sniffs once.

“you come to my house to flirt with my friends, then you come here with me, and leave me to go kiss other people. that’s my problem with you, y/n,” he damn near growls your name when he says it, and takes a few steps closer to you.

not backing down from him, you square yourself in front of him and squint. “you’re way too into my business for a man i’m not even dating,” you quip. his nose twitches and suddenly he’s all in your space, his face inches from yours.

“why would i even date you if this is how you act?” he spits. you glare at him, anger coursing through your veins like somebody just lit a match and set you aflame.

pushing up against him, your top lip curled and your hands balled into fists, you can’t stop yourself when you say, “if you act like this now, i can’t imagine what it would be like to really be yours.”

his nose bumps yours, his eyes inky black in the darkness of the night. your chest rises and falls quickly as he peers down at you. you don’t realize seungcheol has you cornered until you take a tentative step back away from him, and bump into the wall. that only urges him forward, his hips pressing against yours. “you’re already mine,” this time, he actually does growl and grabs you by the chin, pulling your mouth towards him in a messy kiss. your hands grip onto his shoulders as he presses you against the wall, his hand dropping from your jaw to your throat while the other grabs your thigh and hooks it around his waist.

gasping when his icy finger tips slip under your skirt , seungcheol shoves his tongue into your mouth and takes the hand that’s resting on your neck to cradle the back of your head. your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands like you’re trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

his fingers dig into your plush thighs, his crotch pressing into your middle as he forces your legs up higher. he’s hard in his jeans, and you groan against his mouth. seungcheols finger skat higher up your tiny skirt, toying with the band of your thong at your hip. “cheol,” you gasp out, tugging his mouth away from yours by pulling at his hair. “not here.” you say, batting his hand out from under your skirt, but you don’t push his touch away completely and let it rest on your thigh.

he has half a mind to pull out his phone and call an uber, still pressed against you. he lightly pants and licks his lips as he jams his address into the app, selecting the first car that pops up despite it being $30. “this isn’t over,” he says to you, staring directly into your eyes.

oh, how you're glad it isn't.

[0-n-1-x]

WBC!Carl Gallagher x Rich/Northside!reader

link to my masterlist <33

Your private school requires you to do community service, and you’re assigned to help out at a youth center in the Southside. It’s far from your usual environment, and you feel a bit out of place, but you’re determined to make the best of it. You could've gone to the pet center, like the other girls your age, but you desperately needed to get out of suburbia. Carl, who occasionally visits the center for free meals or to hang out, notices you the moment you walk in. You’re clearly not from around here, and he’s instantly curious about why someone like you would be spending time in his hood. At first, Carl’s interactions with you are laced with sarcasm and teasing. He pokes fun at your clean-cut appearance and the way you seem so out of your element, but there’s no real malice behind his words— mostly curiosity. I mean remember this is still Carl, just in the body of a wanna-be gangster

You actually responded to his quips just as quickly as he spoke them, but you also spoke with interest, most of it in your appearance

I'd believe that you aren't full a nepo baby, I like to headcanon that you'd be half or part southside, having spent time there young and maybe one of your parents married rich and such

But you do know how to make your words somewhat powerful, and that intrigues Carl, in a different way than trying to scam the other kids

You’re organizing supplies in the back room of the community center, stacking boxes of canned goods for the food drive. It’s your second day volunteering here, and you’re still getting used to the place. The door creaks open, and you glance up to see the same boy from yesterday leaning against the frame, watching you with an amused smirk. “You lost or something? This isn’t exactly the country club.” he says. Crossing his arms, he saunters into the room, eyes glinting with curiosity. Without missing a beat, you straighten up, brushing the dust off your hands before replying

“I could say the same thing. You don’t look like you’re here to volunteer.”

“Nah, just checking out the new blood. It’s not every day we get someone like you around here. You sure you can handle it? This place can get a little rough.”

“I’m tougher than I look. Besides, I’m not here to play it safe.”

“Is that right? Most people like you wouldn’t last a day down here. You must really be slumming it to end up in this part of town.”

“Real, huh? Well, you definitely found it. But be careful—get too close, and this place might suck you in.”

“Maybe I’m counting on it. I like a challenge, I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.”

He grins, finally extending a hand "Gallagher, Carl Gallagher" You reach for his hand, “Nice to meet you, Carl. Now, are you gonna help me with these boxes, or just stand there and look all pretty?”

After a few days of volunteering, (its mostly you guys talking) he invites you out with him on a 'tour'. You visit The Alibi, his corner, and he ends the trip by taking you to his house

The Gallagher house, if you could call it that, was way different than yours. Not just in size, but in functionality, you hear 3 different people screaming talking and a baby crying with loud video games noises in the background. Luckily, when Carl takes you to the basement which of course resembles what you identify as a 'mancave' there's no one there and its mostly silent

"So.. nice family uh- ya got there?" you joke, slightly uncomfortable in the bean bag he sits you on, the pleats of your plaid skirt ruffling up and you don't miss the way his eye flicker down and the way his cheeks blush peach "Um, y-yeah, it's not always like that but it usually is"

For Carl: it's weird that he's drawn to you, southside kids are literally raised to the 'eat the rich' mindset. Especially Gallaghers, but he couldn't help but want to spill everything he knows and even what he doesn't to you. So he does, he tells you about juvie, about the dysfunctionality of Gallaghers and their shit, fuck he even tells you about Monica

You guys talk for what comes across as hours. Part of him is scared that he opened up to quickly, but surprisingly you listen, without judgement. You even mention how you find some of his life similar to yours. The feelings of being ignored, or in your case paid to go away (which Carl finds not too bad).

As you speak, he moves from his beanbag chair to yours, inching and inching closer together you eventually are a breaths away from one another. You halt your speech, all your well thought out analogies fading away as you both look between the other's eyes and lips.

Carl speaks, "is it crazy.. that I find it really hot when you talk about being rich?" you pause, a sly smile reaching upon your face as you answer "no.. is it crazy that i find it really hot when you talk about being poor?"

More silence fills the room, then Carl brings his eyes straight down to your lips. "No" he whispers, as light as humanly possible

And that's when it happens. you lean in, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble image he usually projects. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. The kiss starting out rushed, messy, and all over the place. But it's not lustful, more childish if anything and you both have no idea what you're doing.

His hand hesitantly moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. You respond in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him even closer

When you finally pull back after what feels like forever, you’re both breathless, panting as your bodies gasp for air. Carl’s thumb gently returns and strokes your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all he finds is a soft smile and the lingering warmth of the kiss you just shared.

“Damn,” he mutters, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly, still keeping you close. “You’ve got me all messed up, you know that?" you respond

Then it hits you, that was your first kiss

and it was with Carl fucking Gallagher

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable II - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body. 

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.” 

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two. 

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. 

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months. 

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…  

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories. 

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning. 

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his. 

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice. 

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead. 

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.” 

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield. 

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it. 

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?” 

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.” 

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears. 

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line. 

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.” 

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”  

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye. 

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between. 

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here. 

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.” 

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain. 

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours. 

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied. 

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come. 

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way. 

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd. 

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind. 

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.” 

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder. 

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you. 

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you. 

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.” 

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?” 

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.” 

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest. 

“What is your problem?!” 

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.” 

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes. 

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip. 

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass. 

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.” 

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night. 

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood. 

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard. 

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him. 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.” 

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.” 

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt. 

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.” 

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of? 

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face. 

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin. 

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears. 

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise. 

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office. 

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?" 

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine." 

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know." 

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this." 

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching. 

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?" 

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

FROM MY BLOOD, COME'S YOUR RUIN. ( HOTD x Reader )

author notes: thanks so much for the love! pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Witch! Alys River's Sis! Reader prompt: After the murder of your House, you and your sister Alys Rivers do what you must to survive the Dance of the Dragon's. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest of your siblings. It was Harwin, Larys, Alys and then you. For a bastard, you were treated well. You were the families seamstress and rumored witch. Of course, it was not real witchcraft. You had learned how to tend to wounds on your own with herbs and years of practice. It was all natural. But, because you were a bastard. Rumors would follow you all over. Twas' Alys that was a true witch. Having visions from the weirwood trees and crafting little potions that drew Daemon Targaryen mad during his time there.

Luckily, those rumors meant to belittle you were a saving grace. During the Fall of House Strong, you were dragged alongside your older sister Alys. When a guard pinned you down to blood soaked cobblestones of the courtyard, attempting to push your skirts up, Alys took no moment to hesitate before clawing at the man's eyes with her nails.

She vowed and spouted out curses, damning the man to a bloody filled fate. That they would die before their sons were of age. All by her witchly power. Instead of following in your sister's path, you were frozen in place, eyes locked onto the hundred cold dead eyes staring back at you. The heads of your kin left in a large stack in the courtyard. Men, women, and children. All just staring back at you.

That fire within her caught Prince Aemond's eye. She spouted out lies, saying you both were witches and would lead him to the Iron Throne. That with both of your lives spared, you would assure that it was Aemond who sat on the Iron Throne instead of his brother.

Once again, those rumors helped you both survive. You were taken as spoils of war. Alys was Aemond's to keep and you would be for his elder brother Aegon, a token of good will. A spy for him, meant to poison his brother's mind for him. If Aegon did not want you, then you would stay in Harrenhal. Meant to be a mockery of the 'strong' House Strong and their attempt of daring to think they could challenge Aemond and his dragon. Or at least that was what Aemond had said to you both.

Standing in the front of the small council, you tried to stop the trembling in your body, still traumatized from the horrors you had seen. Your kin, even if some of them were cruel because of your bastard status, were killed. Their blood still covering you. It was in your hair, dried and knotted deep. It was on the thick linen of your skirts and back, even in your stockings. Looking at Alys, she nods her head softly, a tender glimmer in her eyes telling you that all would be well. You would only hope that she was right.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shakily shift your gaze onto each member of the small council. There was a mix of pity, disgust, and horror in their eyes. You probably looked as shitty as you had felt on the inside. Hesitantly looking over to Aegon, he watches you like a predator, his violet eyes looking you over slowly. In another time and place, he would be pretty to gawk at. Soft pouty lips, glimmering violet eyes, wavy Targaryen white locs and a sulky expression on his face. But, right now he looked like a pretty face to bury a knife into.

"She is pretty, for a Strong."

"Yes, well, she has a fucking name." You snap back, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

"Oh, got the tongue on her as well." He chuckles amused.

"Were you dropped on your head as a babe, is that why you keep speaking like that?" You snap back, the anger you had buried bubbling up. "Oh, right, tis' bold of me to say that your Mother even held you."

Watching as his face instantly shifted into a deadly glare, you refuse to back down from him, the look of pride and reassurance from Alys encouraging you. If this was not meant to happen, then she would have given you a look to stop. Resisting the urge to cower as he stands up from his seat, the sound of the wood scraping against the tiled floor fills the air. An grading sound, like a chicken croaking at dawn. Stalking towards you like you were his prey, he slowly circles you, inspecting the dried blood on your gown. Dark maroon ruining the soft gray.

"You're a bastard." He states, almost as if to mock you.

"You know plenty of bastards, don't you?" You counter back, "Your little fleet in Flea Bottom. Soiling your sister-wife's good name and honor."

"You know nothing of-"

"Of how you refused to bed her, having to gorge yourself fat on wine until you could do it? Of how you could not look at her? Or of how you refused to share a bed with her after that? Choosing the whores in Flea Bottom?" You cut him off, watching his face pale.

You did not know this for a fact, you were not blessed with visions like Alys. But courtly gossip left enough to fill in the blanks and the look on his face told you enough. This was your saving grace. Holding your head up high, a strand of hair falls in front of your face, the strand thick with blood. The stench of it making your nose curl up. Who's? It could have been your Great Uncle Simon Strong. Or your nephew. Or it could have been a mix of all of them. Your gaze locked onto him, now he was the prey and you the predator.

"How did you..?" Aegon blubbers, blinking dumbly.

"I saw it, just as I saw the war ending." You lie, looking to Alys for help.

"We both did. Rhaenyra dies, the Realm knows her for generations to come as Maegor with Tits, the Whore of Dragonstone, the Queen of Bastards." Alys cuts in, "We can assure it. If you keep us alive."

"Why would I keep you both?"

"Our visions only can be done with both of us. Surely you know of Visenya using blood magic with Tyanna of the Tower? Magic must be done with another." Alys lies, "Do you wish to lose the war? To watch as Rhaenyra puts your kin's head on pikes?"

Feeling grateful for your older sister's quick thinking, you take a step towards him, a trail of blood footprints left behind. The coldness of the tile almost making you shiver. Had you always been shoeless? Or had it happened during the fall of Harrenhal and you not even notice? Staring him down from the other end of the table, you watch as he cowers backwards into his seat at the head of the table, clearly wanting space between you.

It was clear that Alys's strangeness and your ramblings had shaken him to the core. You could only hope that it would be enough to sway him into keeping the two of you alive. Tilting your head to the side, the feeling of fresh blood trickling down your leg makes the hairs on your arms raise. Had you truly neglected to look at yourself? Or was this Alys's doings? Bending the strings to make you more frightening?

"Do you wish to see your sons head on a pike? What tis' his name, Maelor?" You add, "Or for her to do horrors to your daughter? Mayhaps Rhaenyra will force you to watch as her belly swells with a bastard? After all, she is the Queen of Bastards."

"She wouldn't. Jaehaera is but a girl." Aegon shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears.

"Her son is dead. Her throne stolen. Her name soiled and ruined. What tis' to say that she will not finish what her two assassin's failed to do with your son?" You add, "If you wish to win this war, tis' me and my sister that you need."

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. XI

part eleven y'all. The closer I get to the season ending, the more nervous I get, I hope I can make do with book summarizations, though canon will be changed around. it has been two weeks since Jaehaerys' death, for time to move forward.

tags: @alexandra-001 @beebeechaos @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @pedro-pascal-love @purple-1995 @reyndaisy @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @thelastemzy @saintkittykat @hueanhdang @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97

cw: mention of violence and death

🗡

Dusk had made it quite far, traveling a lot further in less time than Cregan could on horseback. Around him, Cregan saw through the direwolve's bright eyes. The men had rallied quickly, saying swift goodbyes to loved ones before they left. The greybeards had already started their march to The Twins, leaving the younger men to follow after them with their larger force. It would not be weeks before they reached the Riverlands, but their pace was steady, and the men were rearing to fight for their Queen at Lord Stark's command. Ahead, Dusk met with Lord Henry Hornwood, the man who would lead the greybeards in Cregan's stead. His son, Germen, was old and experienced enough to lead if Henry did not return. None of the greybeards did.

"Lord Stark," Henry bowed slightly toward the wolf, sensing the look the wolf gave him to be all-too-knowing. "We have made fine progress, and have picked up more fighting men along the way. Each House swears themselves to your cause–to the Queen's cause."

Cregan, or Dusk, nodded firmly. The only thing that hindered him when he warged was the ability to talk being taken away from him. Everything else was a bonus; faster speed and strength, hearing, stealth.

"Dragon!" One of the bannermen shouted, causing many of the Northerners in the camp to duck down for cover.

Cregan looked up, Dusk's sharp eyes spotting the nearly invisible white dragon passing the army of men. Against the clouds, only the movement of wings could be seen. Morningstar. Daenys was coming to Winterfell.

Cregan sent his mind back to his own body, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden shift. He could leave Henry to deal with the rest for now, knowing Dusk would be following them until Cregan could start his march with them. Back in his solar, he sat up in his chair. Good or bad news, he needed to prepare for the Princess' arrival.

🗡

As Morningstar landed, she seemed to call out for something, or perhaps someone. Daenys pet her neck with a short 'thank you' before hopping off from her wing and marching toward the gates of Winterfell. They were already wide open, Cregan standing the open space surrounded by the two guards who always manned it.

"That was fast," Daenys commented, amused. "I didn't think you would know of my arrival so quickly."

"I have my ways," he said vaguely, grinning as he kissed her hand. When Cregan leaned back up, he kept the hand gently placed in his. "I have chambers and a meal prepared for you—"

"We cannot stay." She said curtly, shaking her head. "I wish we could, but this is more urgent."

"We?" He asked, bemused.

"Ser Alfred Broome has been murdered. An assassination attempt has been ordered for the Queen by the usurper. Luckily, she was saved by her Queensguard. We are still left without A Master of War."

"And what does that have to do with your visit to Winterfell, my Lady?" He asked hesitantly, already able to guess why she had come to him.

"I offered your name as a potential Master for the Queen's Council. Rhaenyra has accepted." Daenys told him.

"A seat at the council?" His brow furrowed, looking down at Daenys with a conflicted look. "I am commanding my men as we speak, sending ravens nearly every hour to rally the houses to fight."

"Can ravens not be sent from anywhere?" Daenys challenged. "You are smart, Cregan. Smarter than those power-hungry fools on my mother's council. They wish to push her out, lead in her stead and lead the realm into a war that it would never recover from. They need a strong voice of reason, another man that they might actually respect in Daemon's absence." She pleaded, placing her other hand over the one that held hers.

"Daemon has gone?" He asked.

"To Harrenhall, where I hope to meet him and bring him back to Dragonstone. He is not sending any news of his success in the Riverlands, so I can only assume he is acting in his own best interest."

"Please, Cregan. Come with me." Daenys squeezed his hand lightly, a pleading tone to her voice. "The Queen would be grateful for your council."

Cregan avoided her stare this time, knowing he was weak to the Princess' whims. With a sigh, "I will come to Dragonstone with you, my Lady." He conceded. The guards behind him stood up straighter, shocked at the news. They shared a glance amongst themselves.

Their Lord was ready to go into the snake pit for this war.

A Stark had never sat on a Monarch's council, only ever used for his men and fealty.

"Alaric, send for a servant to pack my things. Leon, tell my council that I will be gone for a while and to send all my important ravens directly to Dragonstone. The Maester will lead in my stead." He barked behind him, earning obedient nods as the men scurried off.

"Allow me to feed you, at least, before we depart. You must have been flying for a while."

"Please, Cregan—do not make me eat." She stepped back from him stiffly.

When he stepped forward to comfort her, she shook her head. Cregan stilled. "But I won't deny a pig or cow for Morningstar." She asked hopefully. The flight back would tire the dragon out, she knew.

"Very well." Cregan nodded, biting his tongue. "I will send food for her. Give me only a few moments, Princess." He tucked back into the Great Keep to fetch a guard to send for food.

When Cregan returned minutes later, a servant carrying his things followed behind. A butcher, Daenys presumed, exited another part of the keep with a pig being lead outside of Winterfell's walls. Daenys nodded towards the man gratefully when he shuffled past her back inside, Morningstar having eaten her fill.

Cregan, clad in his lordly Stark sigil and pelts, met Daenys near the dragon.

Daenys hummed curiously, glancing around. "Where is Dusk? I figured the pup would have seen you off."

He adjusted Ice on his shoulder restlessly. "He has gone off with my men to act as a scout." A half-truth, but Cregan truly did not know how to bring up his ancestral talent, for it was such a hard thing to explain to southerners. He knew she would understand, but the information was unneeded currently.

"A shame. I would've found a way to take him with us." She smiled up at him cheekily.

Daenys clipped his cases onto a storage part behind the dragonsaddle, reaching out a hand for Cregan to take. Nearly blushing like a maiden at the offer for help, Cregan took it anyway and sat behind his Lady.

"You will burn up in those clothes, Stark." Daenys said, nodding towards his heavy clothes.

"The price I pay for you, sweet girl." He huffed, though held no animosity towards her.

"Ready?" She asked. Cregan could only nod, clenching his jaw and firmly wrapping his arms around her torso.

She'd never sat a man grown on her saddle before, only her younger brothers. It was strange to have someone sat behind her and not in front. Humming, Daenys ordered her dragon up, "Sōves!" Morningstar trilled as she took flight again, already knowing the way home without Daenys having to steer.

Cregan held tight to her for the entire liftoff, mearly buried into her neck while holding his breath. When the dragon steadied herself above the treeline, Daenys laughed at his still-tense hold. She grabbed one of his hands from her belly, intertwining it with her own. "Scared, my Lord?"

"I would be a fool not to be. I must be the only man of no Valyrion blood to ride a dragon. I don't know if I should praise or curse myself." He laughed nervously.

Daenys shook her head softly, laughing more boisterously than he. "I praise you, good Lord. Not every man would be so brave to even get close to a dragon."

He squeezed her hand back, twice. "I guess I must get used to it. After all, my Lady wife having a dragon at her disposal means that I must grow accustomed so such flights."

Briefly, he ran his fingertips over the emerging scar on her forearm, still in the healing process from her bite. The small scar on her neck was already healed up, leaving a white line cast halfway across her neck. None but Cregan knew of them, due to her long-sleeved dresses and shorter height. She shivered at the delicate ghostly touch, earning a breathy chuckle right into her ear.

"Do you want for one of your own?" She teased, glancing back at his pale face.

"I think I will be content with Dusk, safe on the ground." He jested, overlooking the sights that they passed. At the dismantled campsites were abandoned firepits or forgotten items men must have left behind in their haste to get ready. As they flew further, Cregan and Daenys were able to spot the marching greybeards easily. The mass of over 2,000 men spanded far across the winter desert. As they walked, they formed a sea of greys and browns that Daenys had grown accustomed to seeing northerners wearing.

Morningstar passed them quickly on her way towards the Riverlands.

Daenys thought for a moment, "I should like to stop at Harrenhall before we return to Dragonstone."

She knew it was her only chance to help Rhaenyra outside of the council. Not that she spoke during the meetings, anyway. Her, Jace, and Baela were practically disregarded by the old men once they started to speak, thinking that their experience overruled their titles. Rhaenyra would refuse Daenys' ask to fetch Daemon personally. Both the husband and wife were incredibly stubborn, refusing to give in to the other. The Queen didn't wish to put her children in harms way again, but they needed Caraxes and Daemon back quickly.

Cregan stiffened behind her. "Harrenhall? Where Prince Daemon is staying? What exactly is your plan of action for talking your uncle into coming back to Dragonstone?"

Daenys rolled her eyes, grateful that Cregan could not see her face in front of him. "I will simply aid him in treating with the Riverland Lords. Gods know he will only make them riled up with his disrespectful attitude. We need allies, not enemies. Daemon has never been good at making friends."

Cregan stayed silent at her words, conceding to her once again. He hoped the stay would be brief, only a few days or less. He did not wish for Daenys and himself to be exposed at Harrenhall, so close to the Crownlands and not protected by water like Dragonstone was.

Daenys felt faint halfway through the flight, glad it was almost over and done with. Perhaps the lack of food was getting to her. She felt the panging of her stomach starting to hit her only now. Perhaps the only time she wished to eat was when she camping with Cregan, sharing their kills that had roasted over the fire from their own hard work. Being so used to working for her every meal for weeks, then being served plates three times daily made her feel spoilt. Even more so for throwing them away like a bratty child.

Daenys would eat at Harrenhall if there was time. It would make the headaches go away, according to her basic knowledge of the body. Either from hunger or stress, there were little other reasons for such sudden pain. Only one was an easy fix.

She breathed deeply, trying to wish the nausea away, waiting for the castle to come into sight.

When it had, already in the very late evening, Daenys grimaced at the sight. It was hardly a great castle anymore, with no guards keeping watch outside of it or at the doors. It would be easy for Daemon to claim, as well as any of their enemies.

Caraxes howled out at the sight of Morningstar's bright scales. In the night sky, sun barely below the horizon, her magnifice stood out against the dark skies. Any higher, and she could perhaps be mistaken for a true star. Morningstar roared back, greeting the elder as she was guided to land.

Daenys dismounted outside of a large and ungated entrance, a field holding a weirwood tree. "I didn't know there were many weirwoods so far south. I thought the Old Gods were abandoned by Southerners." Cregan commented, slowly following her footholds and climbing down.

"There are only a few. Namely in the Riverlands, and one in King's Landing. Some descending from the First Men have stayed loyal to their ancestors' gods, others moved on." Daenys shrugged, not having much opinion for either religion. The trees were beautiful, though. A haunting and deep aura surrounded them. Almost intimidating, if it weren't a tree.

"Go find Caraxes. Stay with him, and call out at any sign of more dragons." Daenys commanded the dragon, watching her fly off to the rocks that Caraxes made his temporary home.

Daenys takes Cregan's outstretched arm as they walk into the gloomy hall. As they wandered through the dark, damp halls, it took an embarrassingly long time to find the dining hall, where Daemon sat. A young boy sat in front of him, looking flushed and nervous under the intense eye of the prince. An older man sat in, too, who Daenys guessed was Simon Strong–Harwin and Larys' granduncle.

The man had watched over Harrenhall alone ever since Lyonel passed away with Harwin. Since the estate passed to Larys, the knight had been left at his own nephew's mercy ever since. But now, seeing as the old man was not dead, he had allied himself with the Blacks.

Ser Strong and the young boy stood when Daenys entered, shock apparent on their faces.

"Ser Simon Strong, my Lady. Castellon of Harrenhall. We were not expecting the company of a Princess, as well as the Prince—"

"King." Daemon sharply interrupted, eyeing Daenys suspiciously.

"Yes, the King Consort has been staying with us for a few days now while we await the Riverland houses to pledge to your mother." He bowed politely, sitting himself back down at her acknowledgment. Vaguely, she was happy to meet another one of Harwin's family.

"M-My Princess." The boy bowed deeply, hand tightly clutching the pommel of his sword. He wiped the other hand on his breeches, obviously nervous. "I am Ser Oscar Tully. I have come in place of my grandsire, paramount of Riverun." He stammered his way through his sentence, glancing back between Cregan and Daenys.

"Sers." Daenys nodded her head. "This is Lord Cregan Stark. I am escorting him back to Dragonstone upon the Queen's request. I hope you do not mind our intrusion. We hope to sit in on The Consort's meetings with the Riverland lords."

"My Lords." Cregan followed her polite action, though more tense than she. In front of other lord's presence, his voice changed from the soft-spoken and low one he used with Daenys. It was more serious and lordly. He seemed to fill a room with his presence and demand respect.

At the title, Daemon bristled once more. "I have this handled well enough, I believe your mother is expecting you to stay by her side as you always are."

"That is a husband's job, not a daughter's." Daenys said. Before Daemon could start a fight in front of respectable allies, Daenys sat herself down right next to Oscar, who got more flushed if that was even humanly possibly.

"And does your grandsire pledge for The Queen, Ser Oscar?" Daenys asks softly, knowing exactly how it felt to be in his shoes. A young man, too green to be taken seriously surrounded by older and more experienced men.

"As I was telling His Grace," Oscar glanced between Daenys and Daemon, unsure of who to address formally. He had only arrived minutes ago, not yet saying his piece in place of his grandsire. "My grandsire is incapacitated. He lies in a kind of waking sleep, unable to do much more than take meager drink."

Daenys nodded, sympathizing with the riverland boy. Her own grandsire was in similar condition for years before his passing, forcing him to practically be a corpse in his bed, haunting the Red Keep.

"So, he's alive?" Daemon asked, displeased with the information.

"Yes, gods be good." Oscar brightened considerably.

"Well, my time is short, and I am in need of an army. Perhaps you might place a feather pillow over his head and speed along your inheritance?" Daemon leaned closer to Oscar, speaking of the boy casually murdering his own kin like it was nothing.

Oscar leaned back, closer to Daenys. The Princess placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, appalled. She looked to Cregan, who had the same look that she did.

"Daemon!" She hissed. Clearly, she was right in needing to be here to mediate.

Daemon stared at Oscar, waiting for his reply.

"I love my grandsire, like a father." He told the Prince adamantly. "My own Lord father died suddenly, himself a young man. Lord Grover raised me in his stead."

Daemon sat back, sighing deeply as he rubbed his temples. "Very touching, indeed. Are you here to speak with your grandfather's voice?"

"While he still lives?" Oscar asked. It was an uncommon thing to do, though not unlawful in dire times like these. "That is not our way."

"Then you're of no use to me."

"I can see why the Blackwoods and the Brackens did not fear to start a war." He spoke again, this time to Ser Simon. "House Tully is a fish without a head. Remind me which one of your countrymen pledged for Aegon? Was it Bracken or Blackwood?"

The barrage of insult rendered the Tully speechless, merely staring at Ser Simon for help.

"It was House Bracken, Your Grace." Simon wisely covered for the boy.

"Who could remember?" Daemon scoffed, standing from his seat and grabbing Dark Sister along the way. "Summon House Blackwood here. I require men of action to lead my host of Rivermen." He barked, passing Daenys without another word.

Ser Simon pursed his lips, comfortingly patting Oscar's shoulder before speaking. "Princess, my Lord, I will have proper chambers and meals set up for you both for the duration of your stay. Excuse me."

Simon left to order for their accommodations as well as send the necessary ravens.

Daenys sighed, glad for the conversation to at least be over.

"Allow me to apologize for my father, Ser Oscar." He turned to her, stormy blue eyes finally meeting her own now that Daemon's absence no longer frightened him. He truly was a fish out of water, sent to meet with a King at his young age with no advisors at his side. How irresponsible of his grandsire to not make preparations while he is in such a state. "No one is expecting you to do such treasonous actions just to be able to succeed your grandsire. The Crown sympathizes with your troubles, as we have experienced such things ourselves."

He smiled gratefully, looking downtrodden. "I truly do wish to help you–help Her Grace get her throne back. But, my grandsire believes Aegon to be the rightful king, and I can not declare otherwise while he is still Lord Tully. I'm sorry, Princess."

Daenys smiled, standing from her seat with all the poise that her septas forced upon her. This time, unlike with Cregan's first meeting, she knew how to perform confidently. Oscar stood to meet her, standing only a few inches taller than the Princess.

"Please, Ser Oscar, I implore you to stay for at least the night. I'd hate to see you start your walk back home when it is dark out. I'm sure Ser Simon will not mind. Many of these rooms are thus unoccupied."

Shifting on his feet unsurely, he nodded. "If you wish it, Princess. I will leave after breakfast on the morrow. Goodnight, Princess, my Lord." He bowed his head, very briefly passing a kiss on Daenys' knuckles before he strided out of the dining room.

Cregan, behind Daenys, turned to her, finally able to speak alone. "Your father is quite the character. I'd heard of the Rogue Prince, but to tell a boy to do such a thing..." He trailed off, raising a brow at his betrothed.

Daenys took his arm, guiding him to sit back down next to her while they awaited supper. "No one can be prepared for him. I hope the Blackwood's are not easily offended, lest we lose another great house to the Greens." She stressed, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

He sat back in his seat, sipping at the wine a servant had left when the meeting was being held. "They are known for their boldness, Blackwoods are. They will take any excuse to fight, especially for what they believe is just. Even Daemon couldn't scare their Lord off." Cregan told her reassuringly.

They supped together peacefully, making small conversation about what had occured in their lives during their small separation. Eventually, they both finished their plain stews and were shown to their rooms. Adjacent to each other, Cregan turned to Daenys before they entered. "If you need anything, tonight, come to me." He whispered to avoid an echo in the hallway.

"I will." She said, leaning up to kiss his cheek 'goodnight'.

The room was decently spacious, with windows overlooking the sea. The sound of dripping in the castle had started to become a white noise for her, growing used to the sound and even finding its rhythms soothing.

Daenys lay in bed, dressed in a shift given to her by a maid, apparently having no Lady's clothes in the castle being used for a while. While those collected dust, the maid simply allowed the Princess to borrow one of her own. She slept only a few hours, dreamless and pleasent. She was only awakened by heavy footsteps striding past her doors. She tiptoed to her doors, cracking open one to see Daemon's ghostly robed figure walking back to his room, cup in hand. Daenys, ever curious, made her way to where he had come from.

She found a lit kitchen, with a pretty black-haired lady dressed in an apron working over the counters. "Oh, forgive me—" Daenys began to apologize, not wishing to interrupt the woman's work.

The woman did not glance up, busy with her herb grinding, though she did speak. "Wandering the halls so late in the night seems to run in the family." Her voice was accented, though not too differently from Daenys' own. She seemed to be from the Riverlands, too, but did not sound like Simon or Harwin.

"Yes, he woke me up with his parading through the halls. I don't know how you get much sleep in these halls, with all the echos."

The woman looked up at her, smiling knowingly. "You grow used to them. Well, some do. Most run off when they get spooked. Shame, really. Harrenhall has been quite peaceful for me."

Daenys hummed, slowly approaching her table. "What is all this?" It didn't look like kitchen ingredients, but more so poultice, salves, and teas.

"Poisons." The woman says plainly.

Daenys meets her eye, which holds no amusement. Was she serious?

Before Daenys could question her, the woman snorted. "You are quite like the Rogue Prince, aren't you? So serious."

Daenys huffed, taking a seat in front of the counter on a raised stool, watching the woman's work with interest.

"A Princess must be cautious of strangers." She said. "Are you...a witch?" She used the word lightly, knowing of its negative connotation but not having a better word for it.

The woman's almost glowing green eyes appraised the girl in front of her. "Do you think I am?"

Daenys blushed, not knowing if the woman would be offended or amused. "I think witches are interesting. They can do things someone like myself could not imagine, though they've gotten shunned by men who do not understand their ways." She tactfully avoided the direct question.

She nodded thoughtfully in turn. Pausing to lick whatever residue had gotten on her thumb, "I am Alys. As of right now, I am simply making a tea." Quite the complicated recipe for tea, but Daenys did not question it.

"You're a maester, then? For Harrenhall?" She wouldn't be surprised, with so few staff for the castle, a woman having to be its maester was a likely thing.

Alys' eyes sparked with amusement. "That's what they ask of me. The last one fled in the night, and I am the only one with the stomach for it, it seems."

"Fled? Is Harrenhall so bad?" Daenys asked.

"Just never settled in. How are you settling in, Princess? I hear you often experience poor sleep. Tonight shouldn't be much different."

Daenys shook her head, noting the knowing tone of Alys. She seemed to not judge, so Daenys didn't mind being questioned about it. Who would she tell, anyway, in this abandoned fortress?

"I was sleeping just fine here, until the Consort woke me. What are you doing working in the dead of night?"

Alys smiled, "I work better in the quiet and dark. Like a nocturnal animal, I am. The moon gives me inspiration."

Daenys laughed, feeling the tenseness start to melt off. Perhaps Alys doesn't enjoy the company of Harrenhall, though she fit its aesthetic perfectly. The witchy woman looked as haunting and dark as the place she lived in.

"Hm, since you're 'a maester', you can make poisons, yes?

"I can make much more than poisons. I find them boring, too simple. The mind is what truly controls and kills the body." Alys told her. It reminded Daenys of how the Green council controlled Viserys by keeping his mind muddled by milk of the poppy for years straight. He never attended court, never helped the realm, and could not do anything but sit in bed and rot. Poison would kill a man immediately, but the smarter route was to control them.

"Would you like a tea, to help find sleep?" Alys offered, reaching a chalice out to Daenys. She eyes it a moment, considered.

"I have to be up soon, anyways. I'd hate to meet Lord Blackwood in a groggy state. But, thank you, Alys. Maybe another night."

Alys nodded, placing the cup onto her table, watching the Princess leave for her chambers.

On the way back, she passed Cregan's. She hesitated at the door before deciding against entering. She need not wake him for nothing. Daenys spent the rest of her night watching the rain drizzling down to the sea from her window.

Come morning, Daenys dressed with the help of the same maid that offered her night slip. Overnight, the maid has washed the dust from formal dresses that were stored away. Daenys wore a simple dress that might have once belonged to Ser Harwin's mother, who she regretably did not know the name of. It was a light blue with red accenting, two colors she was already used to wearing for her houses.

She met Cregan in the hall, nodding to him. "I could ask for some clothes to be given to you to borrow. You must be miserable in those." While he forwent his pelts, he still wore his thick tunic and leathers, along with sigil on his chest. She tugged at a strap crossing his chest, raising a concerned brow to him.

Cregan smiled at her concern. "It is only a bit of discomfortable weather, not a problem you need to worry about, my Lady."

They entered the dining room together, Ser Simon Strong already there at the head of the round table to greet them. Oscar sat in the middle of it, to not be in anyone's way. His face lit up from his bored expression when he saw her walk in. "Princess!" He stood, stumbling slightly when the chair got caught on a crack.

Daenys stifled a laugh at the action, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. "Good morrow, Oscar. Simon, I hope you did not mind him staying last night. I asked it of him for my own peace of mind."

Simon smiled kindly, waving her off. "All guests are welcome. We so rarely get any." He reminded her a lot of Lord Lyonel, which was obvious considering they were uncle and nephew. Though, Larys' genes clearly did not come from either of these kind men.

Cregan sat next to her when she took a seat next to Oscar, hoping to send the young man off with a pleasant mood. "Did you sleep well, Oscar?" She asked, splitting her roll of bread to butter it.

He nodded energetically, looking much more himself than the day before. Daemon tended to drain people of their energy. "I did, my Lady, thank you. And you?"

"Pleasently, yes. The rain was quite soothing." She said. After so long with all light snow and no rain like she had grown used to on Dragonstone, she had missed the calmness of it.

He nodded, digging into his own heavier breakfast for his walk today.

"How are the Blackwoods, Oscar?" Daenys asked. "I've heard they carry bold temperaments, but you must know them personally."

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "At times, too stubborn for their own good. Samwell was their Lord for some time, though the battle at Burning Mill unfortunately led to his brother Willem taking over until his son grows to be of age."

She nodded, intently listening. "And Willem, do you think he'll be a smart choice to lead the Riverlands in Lord Glover's stead?" Daenys asked tentatively, not liking the fact that Daemon was trying to replace the Tullys as rightful paramounts of the Riverruns, even temporarily. Lord Glover was paramount for many years for good reason, and Oscar was his rightful heir. Calm-tempered and sweet, not so bloodthirsty like Daemon clearly was.

"He leads the Blackwoods well in place of his brother. His son and sister are quite like him, hard-headed but loyal. They will serve you, or I suppose the Prince, well." Oscar complimented. Daenys nodded between bites, praying to whatever Gods Harrenhall followed that Daemon wouldn't offend such stubborn people, ones that had recently lost their kin.

"Thank you, Oscar. I hope all goes well today." She said, softly sighing and leaning back into her sest after finishing half her breakfast.

His stormy eyes meet hers again, kind smile reassuring. "If they do not like the King Consort, then I am certain they will like you. Anyone who doesn't would be a fool."

Daenys blushed, feeling a girlish laugh escspe her. "You are very kind, Ser."

When the young Tully decided that it was about time he set out, to check on his house and grandsire, Daenys bid him farewell at the entrance.

"Safe travels, Oscar. Please write to us at Harrenhall with updates. I wish for your grandsire's good health."

He thanked her, promising to write with a gentlemanly kiss on her hand. On his horse, he headed back to House Tully.

Daenys walked back to the dining room, where Cregan and Simon were lightly chatting. It was barely another hour before a guard escorted three people inside the room.

"Lord Willlem Blackwood, his sister Alysanne Blackwood, and his son Davos Blackwood." Before returning to his post outside of the doorway.

The three who were previously sitting down stood to greet them, bowing their heads in greeting. Simon spoke first, "welcome to Harrenhall, my Lords and Lady. May I introduce Lord Cregan Stark and Princess Daenys Velayron." He coughed slightly, sitting himself down once more. Daenys clasped her hands together in front of her, assesing the three in front of them.

Willem has a handsome man only slightly younger than Daenys' mother, with brown hair and facial hair to show his maturity. His sister Alysanne was a tall, slim woman with strong features and pure-black hair. She had a sharp and assesing look in her own brown eyes. Davos, the youngest of all, was Daenys' age with forest green eyes and shaggy dark brown hair. Comely, like his Lord father.

"My Lord, it is pleasing to see you have arrived here with no trouble. We are only waiting for Daemon before we start." She said politely, nodding towards the table for them to sit.

Willem, Alysanne, and Davos sat in a line across from them. Davos was straight across from Daenys, while Alysanne sat parallel to Cregan. Willem sat near the opposite head of Simon, waiting for Daemon to join.

"I wasn't aware that two Valyrions would be meeting us at Harrenhall. I must admit, I was surprised when Prince Daemon summonded me from Raventree. Usually, when people summon armies they send ravens. Or come personally." He nodded toward Cregan. "Word has spread far and wide that three dragons were sent to be messengers for the Queen."

"Yes, my brothers and I treated with houses across the realm. The Queen thought it to be more personal, but the King Consort reigns differently." She told him, sipping her wine. She felt the internse stare of Davos on her, which she met curiously. His hair was quite different from most men she had seen, the style shorter in length. He had a small white scar spanning from his top lip to his nose, though it did nothing to make him seem less handsome. Daenys found it hard to keep his gaze, and he knew it, smirking into his own cup when she looked back to Willem and Alysanne.

"No worries, Princess. It was a short journey to Harrenhall." Willem said dismissively. He seemed like he didn't care if he stayed at home or came to the castle, a more easy-going individual. Daenys was relieved at that, at least.

Alysanne, on the other hand, was bolder than her brother. "I think the Queen's command to be more convenient for the houses. If the King Consort is asking for men, why is he not coming to us directly? You are the ones with dragons, after all."

"Daemon must hold Harrenhall. Caraxes is a deterrent for the Green's dragons, he must stay here at all times. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, my Lady." Daenys said.

"And you? Must your dragon also stay?" She challenged.

"My stay in Harrenhall will be brief. Daemon is the one who called for the Riverland houses, not I. It is only appropriate that he meets with the Lords."

As if on cue, Daemon comes stumbling in as if he were sleepwalking. He sat down next to Willem Blackwood, staring ahead at the cup clutched in his hand. A tea? Daemon rarely drank enough to be drunk, and would certainly not be irresponsible enough to do so before a meeting.

Simon, again, made introductions, and gestured for Willem to say his piece.

"Your Grace, the Blackwood House and all of its men pledge to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra. I now rule as regent until my nephew Benjicot comes of age, but he swears himself to her cause, too. The Brackens are venal cravens, and they must pay for their treachery against the laws of gods and men. And against the Crown."

Daemon seemed to breath in deeply, as if he had to think about his own bodily functions in order to perform them. He placed his cup down, looking between Willem and Simon. "Who are you?"

The room was dead silent. The Blackwoods shared glances that Daenys couldn't quite read. She had half a mind to kick him out and conduct buisness herself.

Cregan, too, sighed beside her quietly.

"Ser Willem Blackwood of House Blackwood, your Grace. As I said." Simon said, pointedly.

"Well met." He murmured back, still bleary-eyed. "What might I do for you?"

Daenys clutched her hands together tightly over the table, pursing her lips to prevent herself from saying something she'd regret. Across the table, Davos held an amused look, smirk still plastered on his face.

"...it was you who summonded me, Your Grace." Willem looked regretful now, unknowing if a cruel prank was being played on him. Surely, this was not the King Consort. "I was given to understand that you wanted an army."

"Well, who doesn't these days?" Daemon said plainly. "You Blackwoods certainly never miss a chance to bloody your swords, do you?"

"Some twenty years ago, my Lord bent the knee to King Viserys and acknowledged the Princess Rhaenyra as his rightful heir."

"So, you fight for this old oath? Not, of course, for your thousand-year-old feud with the Brackens?"

Willem shifted in his seat. "I once vied for Queen Rhaenyra's hand, before she wed Ser Laenor. I always liked her spirit. She had the true blood of the Dragon."

Daenys' brows nearly raised all the way to her hairline. Couldn't he have simply said, 'I am loyal to the Queen' instead of telling the King himself that he once tried to ask for his wife's hand.

"And you're prepared to march without the leave of your lord..." he trailed off, attention caught by a servant girl coming into the room. He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, as if seeing a ghost. The rest of the room sat in the silence, wondering what in the seven hells was going on. When she finally filled his cup and left, Willem started again.

"Once you and your dragon bring the Queen's justice to the Brackens, our armies will be yours." He swore.

Daemon nodded, but Daenys was unsure if he was aware of what Willem had said. He left immediately after, looking haunted by something no one else could see. Daenys was quick to attempt a recovery.

"Daemon will deliver justice to the Brackens for your house, for Her Grace. He may be crass and dismissive at times, but I assure you, he does not break his oaths." She stood from her seat, leading the others to follow.

Willem nodded, a tired look on his face. "I hope so, Princess. I will leave, back to Raventree Hall. My son and sister will remain—"

"I will not." Alysanne told him, looking around the crumbling castle's hall. "I do not wish to sit around in his hellhole for any longer. I will lead my own betallion, one with men I trust from our House." The Lady said, insistant.

Daenys bowed her head to her, "I am grateful for your eagerness to fight, my Lady."

Alysanne left first, presumably to her horse outside.

Davos, too, started to protest. "If Alysanne gets to lead her own men, why must I stay here?" He started, quickly being shut down by Willem.

"I trust you to discuss matters in my stead, Davos. It will not be forever, just until Daemon keeps his part of the deal." Davos clutched at his dagger's pommel, irritation at being 'useless' evident all over his face and stance.

Willem soon left after, calling for Davos' horse to be escorted to his own stall in the stables. Daenys looked to Cregan briefly, unsure of how to comfort someone left behind as a means to an end. He could offer nothing but a sympathetic shrug. "Ser Davos," she started, watching him turn to her with a clenched jaw.

"We are glad to have you here. I promise, it will only be for a short while while Daemon figures out how he wants to go about the business between the Brackens. You will get your chance to fight." She said, stepping forward a few steps closer to him.

His gaze softened ever so slightly, not wishing to release his anger on the wrong person. "Hm." He nodded. "Is Lord Stark going to be leading his men, or has he been called upon by the King to also stay in these damp halls?"

Cregan stiffened next to Daenys, "I am here at the Princess' bidding. To join the Queen's council."

"Ah, so you won't be fighting."

"Who says that?" Cregan asked.

"Never met a councilman who actually led men to battle. Most prefer to stay in their castles, safe and comfortable." The Blackwood snickered.

"My betrothed asked me to come to the Queen's council as an advisor. Once my men follow on foot, I will take my leave to lead them." Cregan said, firm and absolute. Daenys felt a shiver crawl up her spine at him calling her 'his betrothed'. Imagining him calling her 'his wife' was something she couldn't even fathom.

"Bethrothed?" Davos asked, looking to Daenys with a rasied brow. "Hm. I thought the Princess' hand had been free for many years, now."

She felt her face grow hot, "it has. The betrothal is recent."

"So, not solidified, then?" He asked, nodding to himself.

Daenys moved to answer, to say that she had no intention of breaking her oath, but he didn't notice and continued.

"May I see your dragon, my Lady? I saw the two from afar on the way inside, but I know better than to approach one alone." Davos asked, a light look replacing his smug one.

Daenys, bemused, looked out to the nice morning weather. "You wish to approach Morningstar? For what reason?"

"Morningstar. That is a fitting name. 'Lightbringer' they call her, right? I simply wish to know what it means to be in the presence of one, take it as you fulfilling a silly boyish dream I've always had." He said, bashfully. Beside her, Cregan rolled his eyes.

"It is a fitting name for her." She smiled, "I will show you to her, of course."

Cregan eyed Daenys, but did not question a princess in front of another so brazenly. He ignored the triumphant look Davos shot him, thinking himself above childish games.

The weather was the most pleasant thing about Harrenhall, when it was not storming furious upon the castle. Daenys, Cregan, and Davos made a line while walking on top of the rocky sealine towards the two perched dragons. She did not understand how they lounged so comfortably on such jagged rocks.

Caraxed whined out as he spotted Daenys, a familiar face he had not seen in weeks. It seemed that Daemon had neglected the poor red beast, leaving him without good company until Morningstar arrived. Morningstar huffed at the sight of Daenys, making her discontent plainly seen. "Spoiled girl, we can not always sleep in snow blankets or dragonpits." She cooed, rubbing her chin.

She turned to Davos, who stood many feet behind herself and Cregan. He hesitated now in the presence of an actual dragon, breathless as he stared at her majesty. Cregan smirked at him, pointedly rubbing the dragoness' snout himself.

Daenys waved him closer, nodding her assurance. "She will not harm you, though she may think herself a grand jester when she knocks you over. It makes some of the dragonkeepers nearly shit themselves with fright."

Davos, not at all comforted by her words, stepped foward slowly, one foot at a time. The dragon silently allowed him to stroke her snout, eyes shut with content at bring given so much attention at once. Spoiled girl, Daenys smiled.

The Blackwood boy grinned boyishly at the achievement. "No one will ever believe me when I tell them I pet a dragon."

"Our secret, then." Daenys mused.

Soon, they went back inside of the castle, leaving behind the two dragons (though not after Daenys gave a bit of her attention to Caraxes, who did not let the boys near him like Morningstar did). Davos went off to his guest chambers after leaving a prolonged and dramatic kiss on Daenys' hand.

Cregan huffed beside her, now left alone with only each other in a broken down hallway.

Daenys, waiting for his next words, looked up to him. He didn't speak his thoughts on Davos, knowing that they were perhaps too childish and jealous to speak in front of his lady.

Comfortingly, she patted the arm that laced with her own. "Come, Cregan. Show me how Northerners pray. I would quite like to learn, now that I have an opportunity."

He seemed shocked at her ask but agreed eagerly nonetheless. They made their way through the twisted halls to the outside of the castle, where they had first entered from. The weirwood stood tall and strong on top of the enclosed hill.

Though ancient, the tree was still vibrant with life. It's red leaves were like blood against the stark white trunk and roots. Cregan kneeled in front of it, urging Daenys to do the same with a keen look. "There is no certain way to pray. It comes naturally to everyone. I like to speak my thoughts when I am alone, I find it relieving to speak what I cannot usually say. The Old Gods do not judge, but simply listen. In your head or aloud, they will hear."

She might have been able to speak her thoughts to the Old Gods if she were alone, but it would be embarrassing in front of another. Cregan must have thought the same, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he looked at peace.

Daenys followed his actions, thinking of whatever first came to her mind. Was she supposed to merely speak to the Gods, or ask for something? Perhaps that was overthinking it. It should not be a conditional ritual.

She thought of her brother first. Young Luke, a bright light lost to the storms. She missed him every minute she was awake, wishing things could change.

She thought of her mother, who wore a crown too heavy for her head. Visenya, Luke, and now Daemon and her own council causing her so much grief and distress in such trying times. She wished that Rhaenyra would keep her strength and stand tall always.

She thought of Helena, so close to her now while she stayed at Harrenhall. If she could only fly to her, plead for her to save herself from the war. She wished for her safety.

She thought of Cregan. The man right next to her, a permanent warmth at her side. She wished he might always be there, where he had begun to fill a void in her soul.

Daenys opened her eyes, finding Cregan already watching her. His expression was thoughtful, affectionate. A similar look he wore when they were on top of The Wall.

"What?" She breathed out, confused by his distraction. "Aren't you going to pray?"

"I already did." He answered.

"That was quite short."

"I only asked for one thing."

"And what is that, my Lord?"

"You to stay by my side." He laced their hands together, squeezing once as the feeling and his words made her heart flutter.

She brought his hand to her lip, closing her eyes lightly as she pressed them to his knuckles. "You need not ask the Gods for that. I would do so anyway."

🗡

Daenys disobeyed her mother when she ushered her and her brothers to their temporary chambers at driftmark. She did not wish to sleep again, not after Laena's funeral—and the vision that preceeded it. She was tired of death. At least she qas allowed to hide her mourning for Ser Harwin amidst the guise of Laena's funeral.

Daenys was saddened by Laena's death, truly, but she had never met the woman except in her one dream weeks ago. Her death was not preventable, not my maester or Daenys. Ser Harwins, though, was. A fire, a trapped door, the hazy smell of smoke that filled her lungs and suffocated her the same way it did Lord Lyonel. The man refused to leave his father's side, even through the unmoving door. She was forced to stand there, behind Ser Harwin, unable to command him to leave the cursed place and save himself, she watched as he succumbed to the flames.

Merely days later, it was a similar scene with Lady Laena. The woman approached her dragon, face wet his tears but eyes hardened with decision. Daenys watched as Vhagar, ever loyal, hesitated to follow her rider's command. She, too, succumbed to fire.

Daenys began to resent fire. Even the flames of her own dragoness, she avoided. When it came time for Morningstar to sup, Daenys swiftly made her leave, though she always used to dine with her. How many would fire take from her? Perhaps she would succumb to her own fiery fate, one day.

She sat outside of Driftmark, with Morningstar as she usually did. To avoid everyone and her own mind, the cold sand and salty breeze welcomed her. Driftmark was a far cry from King's Landing's stench and filth. Mayhaps she was biased, though, seeing as the ocean was so much more serene in such a place. Unoccupied by loud fishermen and port traders.

Daenys' head lifted from her lazed resting spot in the sand. A small shadow was moving across the grassy hills nearby, black against the moon's light.

She sat up, curiously moving to follow it. It did not take long, with the figure moving cautious and slow.

Ahead by a few feet, she made out Aemond's white head of waves. "Uncle?" She called out, sliding herself down a grassy knoll while trying not to slip on her skirts.

He turned to her as if he was caught committing a crime, looking behind her for any more unwelcome guests.

"Daenys." Was all Aemond muttered, waiting for her to meet him

"What are you doing, sneaking about? Shouldn't you be with Aegon, drowning in his cups?" She had meant to sound teasing, but with such little energy she only sounded tired and plain.

Aemond sneered, scoffing at her suggestion. "We do not share interests. I have always kept to my studies, as a prince should. That fool wouldn't know his histories or High Valyrion if it smacked him on his fat head."

Daenys snorted, covering it with a hand. Her septas would surely have scolded her for such things. "On that, we can agree. But you avoid the question at hand, uncle."

Aemond lost his amused smirk, looking to the grass and kicking at it with his shoe tip. "Going for a walk. I mourn Lady Laena greatly."

"You've never met the woman."

He rolled his eyes, looking up at her from her slightly lifted spot on the hill.

"I am owed a dragon. And I will not let the opportunity pass me by, it may be my only one." He answered, puffing up his chest like a knight.

She nodded, pursing her lips. "It may be your only opportunity because she'll either kill you or accept you. There is no middle ground."

"I will take the chance," he said confidently. "I am tired of being the only one of my family to not own a dragon. I am the only one who cares to learn of our heritage, the only one with proper blood–" Aemond cut himself off from his rant, flushing red at the slip of tongue.

Daenys merely stared on, unphashed. It was not news to her, nor anyone else, of what others thought of her family.

"We do not own dragons. We are dragons." She stated.

He stared at her this time, bemused. "You will not stop me? Vhagar is your late aunt's dragon."

She shrugged, "dragons have no inherited bond. If she is Rhaena's, then she will eat you. I do not care who the old beast chooses, so long as she gets some rest from her long days."

Aemond smiled slightly, a much more pleasant expression that the serious one he usually forces. "We should fly together, once I claim her."

Daenys laughed shortly, nodding her agreement. "I won't deny a peaceful night of flying, but you should take your first ride alone. You won't want the memory sullied by another."

He thought for a long moment, almost speaking again, before he built his last bits of courage and marched towards a sleeping Vhagar.

Daenys watched from afar as he bonded with the oldest dragon in the world. Briefly, she felt a sense of pride in knowing his confidence was not misguided. Her sympathies went to her cousin, but she had high hopes for Rhaena to find another dragon. There were many wild ones, after all, who've gone unclaimed for years.

After what must have been an eternity for young Daenys to wait, Aemond landed with Vhagar, leaving her saddle to meet Daenys at a side entrance to the keep.

"Did you see us!" He exclaimed, breathless from his exhilarating flight.

Daenys nodded, sharing his excitement. "She is a beautiful dragon. 'The Queen' for a reason. How was your first flight?" She asked, curious. It has been so many years since her first, but the memory never left her mind.

"Indescribable, I thought I would fall off a million times, but!—" His wild gesturing was cut short by a yell. Jacaerys, Lucerys, Baela and Rhaena had met them in the entrance hall to Driftmark.

The rest was history. Daenys stayed to the side during the scuffle, being the eldest she thought the boys would settle it amongst themselves and grow tired fast. That is what always happened when Luke and Jace fought. She was wrong. Never in her life would she imagine that sweet Luke would bring a dagger to a childish tiff, much less use it.

Aemond wasn't innocent, though he was outnumbered greatly. The look in his eyes as he stood over Jacaerys with the rock caused both Luke and Daenys to charge forward to protect their brother. Luke, being closer, unfortunately got there first. He slashed Aemond's eye, making him drop the rock in agony. Daenys clutched at Luke's tunic, dragging him back into her embrace as Aemond clutched his eye.

She knew what Luke did was an act of defense, a justified blow. But if she stopped him that night, gotten to Aemond a mere second sooner and grabbed the stone from his grip, Luke would still be alive years later.

The children of Viserys and Rhaenyra stood beside their mothers. Alicent and Rhaenyra both protectively stood beside their children. Aemond was being taken care of by a maester, while Alicent vied for Lucerys to have his eye taken in retribution. Both Viserys and Rhaenyra vehemently denied the Queen's request.

The night became a blur. Daenys was loyally plastered in front of Lucerys all night, if Ser Criston decided he wished to disobey the King on a sudden whim. Her mother ended up with a slash on her arm but barely flinched as it happened. Daenys wondered if it was her fiery Targaryen blood or her motherly fury that allowed her to be so strong. She couldn't imagine herself being like Rhaenyra, not in a hundred years.

She did remember sharing a glance with Aemond, her eyes filled with unshed tears for her Uncle. His only eye was muddled with a plethora of conflicting emotions, before he left her gaze.

"Do not mourn me, mother. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

She would grow to regret her encouragement.

She wished it was her that had taken Aemond's eye.

She wanted his other.

🗡

sorry for kinda putting cregan on the sidelines during the meetings. There's not really much for him to say during them and he's not the type to interrupt in a conversation that isn't his. Trying to add sweet little moments between them and the big drama parts 🙂‍↕️

cregan when Oscar tries to flirt with Daenys, knowing he's just a harmless boy: 😐

Cregan when Davos looks her way: 🤨

yall i like davos way too much i might just write an au one-shot of the three of them getting together i cannot do this #creanyvos

also alysanne is NOT meant to sound like a bitchy character, I imagine her as defiant towards authority and challenging their every word, respecting only those who earned it. I got rid of the suggested temporary like she had for cregan (sorry!!!) bc i think she'd be wanting to dive deep into battle with her men, not left behind politicking.

Kind of want to establish relationships between Aegon, Aemond and Daenys. Gives the feud and war more meaning, I think. A more mutual understanding and hint of friendship between Aemond and Daenys, for being targets of Aegon. A more one-sided hate for Aegon from Daenys. He has mostly no care for her at all, only thinking her another annoying bastard of his sister. Also! Aemond deserved to feel a little happiness right after claiming Vhagar, its sad he ran into the Velayrons right after, although Rhaena had the right to be upset.

Currently regretting naming the dragon Lightbringer so early on in the story. It would've been so much more fitting if Daenys and Morningstar had earned the title in a battle, instead. Maybe if I rewrite the series in two years when s3 comes out lol

cough light blue is a stark color cough red is a targ color cough cough

this already is getting posted too late so i can't include the big event that i had planned for the chapter, it'll be way too long and convoluted and must be its own chapter. next one might be thursday, we'll see though.

[idk6123]

Puppeteer The Puppeteer (Homelander X Male Reader)

With The Seven constantly being on the hot seat, Homelander only wishes one thing during days like these, control. He wishes there were a way The Deep do less dumb stuff. He wishes A-Train wasn’t some junkie that relies on drugs to use his powers. He wishes he could actually trust Starlight. He wishes Queen Maeve actually would listen to him and stop hating him. He wishes Translucent was still alive. He was fine with Black Noir.

With the lack of a member, he wishes someone more reliable to have in the team. Someone that meets all of his requirements, strong, obedient, trustworthy, basically everything that lacks with his current team. Thus, he got Ashley to scout for potential heroes.

“…And by doing this, we will be keeping up with the trend for more inclusivity.”

Homelander frowns and drops the information file on his desk. “You really think someone blind and in a wheelchair would fit the team?”

“She may be handicapped, but she’s strong. Besides, we never had a handicapped person in The Seven.”

“True, but we do have one in the PR team.” Homelander ruthlessly comment. Without even looking at the offended Ashley, the blonde looks through the files of how he finds interestingly enough to take even a peek.

“Luckily, we many other candidates. I’m sure we can reach a compromise-” Homelander drops the files on the side. Then he gestures to Ashley to give him the files she’s holding. She’s quick to give it to him, making him to look again. “We have plenty of strong heroes who will make the public-” She then stops talking when Homelander stops browsing to look at one file in particular. Judging by his face, he found his new hero. “Who’re you looking at?”

With a satisfied smirk, Homelander continues to look through the file. “We got our new member.”

-

“I highly advice to not get him.” In the hallway, Ashley is following Homelander, who’s meeting his new teammate. “He just made his break as a hero. He only got 11 followers on Instagram, most of them being family members. He caught only 2 burglars. He’s an introvert and I’m not surprised he only leave the house to do grocery shopping. The only good thing is that he’s gay, but I got 100 gay guys on my list.”

“I don’t care about them. I want him.” Homelander insist. He doesn’t stop walking. Not even looking at Ashley as he talks. “And if you’re going to have trouble having him good PR, that is your problem.” With that, Homelander enters his office, with Ashley following him with stress.

Inside of the office, Homelander is quick to see the young man, who looks a bit nervous. He stands up to give his new boss a nervous smile. “It’s an honor meeting you, sir.”

Homelander accepts his hand, smiling back at him. “Please drop the formalities. Please treat me like you treat your friends.”

After introductions, Y/N sit back on his seat, while Homelander is sitting opposite of him. Ashley is standing at the side, wondering what her boss is up to. “I have to say, I’m quite surprised I received a call. I just started all of this, and I’m already being recognized by The Seven.”

“There is a reason for that.” Homelander shows a kind smile. “You got a gift like no other, Y/N. “I never seen a telepath that has such potential like you have. I know you’re an amateur right now, but I can see in front of me a hero that will save millions of lives.”

Y/N blushes a bit, didn’t expecting to receive so many complements from his idol. “T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you don’t mind, I would like to see you demonstrating your powers. I want to see how good you are right now.” Homelander requests. “I want you to tell me something embarrassing of Ashley.”

Ashley looks alarmed, with Y/N being taken a little aback. “…I don’t use my powers on people casually unless necessary.”

“Don’t worry. She’s fine with it.” Homelander brushes it off. Although not wanting it, Ashley merely forced a painful smile. “Besides, considering this is about your future, don’t you think it’s necessary?”

Y/N knows things seems off, but this is ones in a lifetime chance. So, he uses his powers. Within a second, his face looks disgusted. “What kind of BDSM shit are you in?”

Homelander looks amused as Ashley looks even more embarrassed. “I don’t even need her to confirm it that you did it.” He then leans over. “Now for my final request. I want you to use your mind control power, take over Ashley’s mind and do something ridiculous in the hallway.”

“Wait-!”

Before Ashley could beg for Y/N not to, he did, though he feels a bit guilty. Her entire face only shows some hollowness. As she walks to the hallway, Homelander smirks and stand up. Both men get out of the hallway to see what’s going to happen. There, Ashley stands in the middle of it, with people passing by, not knowing what is going to happen.

“Attention! People! Attention!” Every worker in the hallway looks at her. “I need to confess something! Yesterday, we had a party back at my house, but I didn’t invited most of you. I want to apologize for sleeping in front of some of you and I was advised to go to the doctors.” Every worker frowns at hearing her. “I also want to apologize for the… ‘bathroom’ incident. I shouldn’t drink that much, and I got karma for it. I puked over some of you… and I’m sure you also saw me shitting in my pants at the same time. Again, I’m apologize, and I’m hope we can work normally from now on.” With that, she walks away. When she’s gone from the scene, Y/N let go of her mind.

Homelander looks proud at him as he put his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Congratulations teammate. You’re in.”

-

Somehow, Ashley managed to create a story surrounding the new Seven member. Y/N apparently helped Homelander during a mission as a rookie, without knowing the big hero were there. Because of it, Homelander took the newly hero under his wing and train him. The whole spin is basically a sidekick and coach relationship, which worked well for the public.

Right now, it’s the first interview for the new hero. As he awaits in the lounge room, he nervously thinks through the interview, playing it in his mind. Homelander walks in, knowing Y/N is stressing.

“You don’t look too good, buddy.”

“…I never got interviewed before, that’s all.” Y/N nervously steps on the ground. “Especially not one at national tv.”

Homelander gives him an assures smile as he walks over to him. “Remember you can just be yourself. It’s alright to be shy. In fact, Ashley would love to represent someone more introverted on the big screen. Just be humble, nice and honest, exactly how we met. Think you can do that?”

Y/N hums. “Yeah. I’m not one for scripts to be honest. But I’m fine lying if it makes you guys lives a bit easier.”

Homelander looks proud. “That’s my sidekick.” He put an arm around the younger man, who looks a bit nervous. “And don’t worry. I’m going to sit right besides you if you need me.”

Y/N can’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

-

Y/N been accustom quiet well in The Seven. He and Starlight became quick friends. He took training sessions with Queen Maeve. He and Black Noir often spend time together, since both aren’t much talkers. He got stamina training from A-Train. He doesn’t talk to The Deep because he’s currently off the team because he raped someone. Y/N isn’t one to judge people quickly, but he makes an exception with him. That leaves Homelander, who spends the most time with. He helps him train his powers, his fighting moves and helping him PR wise. The boy often views Homelander as his mentor, and comes to him for general life advice, like today.

“I can tell there is something up your mind.” Homelander speaks up as both eat their lunches. “You can talk to me.”

“Well…” Y/N looks a bit uncomfortable. He takes a second for how to phrase it. “…So, I met this guy at security. He’s kinda my first friend that aren’t you guys. But yesterday, he… he asked me out.”

This makes the blonde curious. “Like a date?”

“Y-Yeah…” Y/N replies. “I never had one, so… I’m a bit nervous.”

Homelander smiles, as he thinks through the situation. He’s quick to have a solution in his mind for the new problem. “Want some advice? Just be yourself. He already knows you, so don’t worry about presenting yourself as being social or something. Besides, there is nothing to be ashamed of being quiet.”

Y/N can’t help but smile. “Basic advice, but your right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

-

Later that day, Homelander got to the guy’s apartment to ‘fix’ the problem. Afterwards, all he had to do is send a text to Y/N the date is off because he wasn’t interested. Knowing the effect he’s going to get; he calls it a day and await for the next act.

The next day, he met with Y/N in the training room, seeing him more stoic then usual. “Everything alright there?”

“…My date bailed on me.” Y/N avoids looking at Homelander. “He said he wasn’t interested.”

“You serious?” Homelander sits down at the side. Afterwards, he gestures his sidekick to sit besides him, which he does. “What a jerk. Are you alright?”

Y/N shakes his head. “…I-I was really looking forward for it. I thought, maybe now I’m in The Seven, it’s fine to be the quiet guy… but it looks things hasn’t changed a bit.”

Homelander put an arm around Y/N, scooting him a bit over to him. “Don’t be ashamed. I know you’re an amazing guy. You’re kind, polite, honest and a hard worker. If he called the date off, that is his loss, because any guy is lucky to be with you.” With that being said, he put his other hand on Y/N’s knee, making the man blushing a bit as Homelander’s face is so close.

“Y-You really think so.”

“I don’t think so. I know it.” Homelander smiles warmly. “Think you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Y/N smiles. “I’m going to be fine.”

-

Some days later, Homelander invited Y/N to his room. Once there, he sees the blonde holding a bottle of champagne alongside two glasses on the table.

“Since you did so well last mission, I thought we should celebrate.” He opens the bottle, as a pop sound comes from it. With a smile, he tempts Y/N to drink, which he does.

With both men smiling, they drink the champagne from the glass as they sit down. Homelander is proud of his sidekick, now finally being stand on his own. Last mission, Y/N managed to mind control 10 people at the same time. Without even getting someone hurt, he successfully removed some terrorist who would’ve ended innocent people’s lives.

“Just imagine what you can do in the future. Wouldn’t be great if you could do, let’s say, 100 people?”

“I had already trouble doing with 10.” Y/N laughs. “It’s going to be a while before I can do even 20. That being said, it’s all thanks to you. You saw the potential in me and helped me achieve it.”

“You’re welcome. I know talent when I see it.” Homelander smiles. “And I know you’re only to get better from here out.”

“I feel like that too.” Y/N sounds hopeful.

“And I continue train you. …But I have something to confess to you. I have an ulterior motive.”

Y/N is curious. “Really? What’s it?”

“Well…” Homelander avoids looking at him. “When I first saw your file, I knew you were going to be a great member, and I was more then happy to help you. But as I spend more time with you, I grew more attach to you. Not as a teammate, or a friend, but as someone who cares for you.”

Y/N looks a bit stunned. “…You mean as a partner?”

Homelander looks back at him. “Nothing would make me happier to have you at my side… as something more then a friend.”

“W-Wow…” Y/N continues to look startled. “…I-I never expected this.”

Homelander smiles. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

“I… I would be very happy to be your boyfriend.”

With a wider smile, the hero leans in and kisses Y/N, who nervously kisses back. Both of them being gentle with the other. It was short, but it was sweet, something what the blonde was going for. After the kiss, he put his hand on Y/N’s cheek.

“You look so beautiful. I’m very happy to have you at my side.”

-

The next day and the big hero wake up in his bed. His eyes quick to look at the side to see Y/N lying next to him. His front is facing towards him. With a wide smile, Homelander get on his side to carefully hug Y/N, who’s face is now against his chest. The new recruit mutters something.

“Y/N?”

But it appears he’s still asleep. The blonde then looks pass Y/N’s head. As he continues to smile, he knows he got what he wanted. To have someone’s loyalty, now in the form of love. And to make it better, have someone that is powerful. With his powers, Homelander can use his telepathic abilities to get any information instantly and control someone’s mind without any problem. Sure, he needs to mold his lover to do what he wishes, but if he continues to be patient and dedicated to his project, things will turn out very well.

[mickandmusings]

i. true blue

part one of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: The summer he turned nine, Jake was convinced he'd spend it like any other summer: riding his bike down dirt roads with all the other kids, lending a helping hand on the family farm, and brushing up on his backyard football. His life hits a tailspin when a new family moves into the house just down the road, leading him to a friendship and feelings he never saw coming.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: cute childhood friends to lovers, small sections of angst, tragic backstories and southern traditions. primarily self indulgent. this is written by someone from the most southern small town imaginable, so it's written with love as an ode to my own hometown, enjoy. <3

-

In the great state of Texas, just a few hours south of Austin, sits a small town called Haven. It was a fitting name for a town so picturesque-miles and miles of endless farmland, stunning sunsets and sunrises, and the beauty of the state's flora and fauna. However, in all it's Southern small-town glory, it was home to little else. There was the hub of activity 'downtown'-the one school system, a family-owned restaurant, a convenience store, the First Baptist Church of Haven, and a hair salon. On the outskirts of Haven sat a large patch of barbed-wire fenced farmland, one that spanned most of the remaining parts of the small town, more than the eye could see. It was large enough to have its own unpaved road-Seresin Farm Road-and was home to only one house, the Seresin family house.

The Seresin family had owned the land long before the turn of the century, and had been passed down from generation to generation ever since. The Seresin's owned much of Haven to begin with, their farmland excluded. Most of the businesses rented their buildings from Jacob Seresin Sr., with the exception of the school system and the church. Despite their seemingly looming hand of ownership, you'd never know they held power at all. Mrs. Janet Seresin-first lady of the Seresin estate-was known as the town egg lady, always more than happy to pass out dozens of Styrofoam cartons free of charge. She held the unofficial prize of having the best homemade ice cream in all of Haven, and anyone in the small town would attest. Jacob Seresin Sr.-head of the Seresin farm and Janet's husband-was regarded in the same warm fashion. You could find him driving up and down the main street in his trusty red farm truck, often loaded with feed or some kind of good necessary to keep his place up and running. He'd stop and talk to anyone and everyone, literally everyone, he knew. He had been the one to help nearly everyone in his community rebuild after natural disasters, always willing to help someone in need, never asking for anything in return. The Seresin's were Haven's unofficial first family, leaders of sorts, in the small town.

Their son, Jacob Seresin Jr., was elusive and a topic nearly everyone knew to avoid. He had been raised on the family farm, attended the local school, lived and breathed the same life as everyone else, but found himself itching for more. He quickly fell into trouble with the local law, and with a last name like Seresin, he got away with mostly everything, which, perhaps, was his greatest downfall. He had gotten his high school girlfriend-a sweet local girl named Georgia Joann Smith-pregnant their senior year. When she broke the news, he'd taken off in his truck to Kentucky, where it was rumored he still was, looking for something he could never find. Nine months later, Jacob Thomas Seresin III, or 'Jake' as he preferred, was born, healthy, all ten fingers and toes. Just hours after birth, his mother fell gravely ill, and made her own swift exit in death. She left behind only one thing-her son. Jacob Sr. and Janet took him in with no questions asked, raising him as any grandparent would. Jake, luckily, seemed to inherit more of his mother than his father. His blonde hair gleamed in the Texas sun, turning almost gold in the heat-filled summers. His green eyes held his kindness-a sharp contrast to his father's dark brown eyes that seemed to only hold his anger. Jake bore Georgia's gentle soul, her wide smile and her witty personality, she lived on in Jake entirely. So when the new family moved into the empty house at the end of Seresin Farm Road, Janet had zero hesitations in sending Jake down to welcome their new neighbors to Haven. She'd spent the entire morning making homemade bread, having to occasionally swat away Jake's hands from the counter or tell him to completely get out of the kitchen while the loaves cooled. After lunch, she handed him a well-wrapped loaf and gave him instructions to take it to the newcomers, which Jake did without complaint. He'd placed the bread into the metal basket attached to his royal blue bike, trekking down their long and winding driveway. When he'd arrived nearly ten minutes later, he had parked his bike on the edge of the lawn, against a towering oak tree. He made a point to kick the dirt off his shoes, not wanting to track it onto the seemingly freshly painted, white wrap-around porch. He lifts his first to wrap against the door, one with a glass cut-out, much different than the screen door on his farmhouse. He fixed his windswept hair in the reflection of the window, remembering Granny's words of always looking well put together when meeting new people. The door's lock clicked, and when Jake looked up to see the man or lady of the house, he instead had to look down, finding a girl who couldn't be much younger than him. Her eyes were wide as they stared up at him, hair pushed out of her face with colorful butterfly shaped clips. Her eyes were captivating, and all of Jake's intended Southern charm had flown out the window. She smiles shyly at Jake, wondering why this stranger was on her porch.

"Uh, this is for you-or,uh-your parents," his arm extends the bread as he stammered. "My Granny made it, we live at the farm on the end of the road, we-uh, she-wanted to invite you to the neighborhood. I'm Jake."

Jake stuck out a clammy hand for her to shake, and winced internally. His Pawpaw would be reprimanding him if he saw this-it wasn't polite to make a lady shake your hand. Shaking hands was for business deals, and Jake had just shook her hand like she'd bought his show heifer. Jake's mind was clouded for a reason he couldn't explain, and he wasn't thinking straight. The girl blushed and smiled slightly.

"I'm Honey," her voice was quiet but pronounced. "That's not actually my name, but everyone calls me Honey, so, you can call me Honey. Um, is your house the one with the big magnolia tree in the front?"

Jake nodded quickly. Her eyes widened, shimmering with something Jake couldn't make out. Quietness settled over them before Honey spoke again.

"Is that your bike?" Honey points at his bike leaning against the tree.

"Yeah! Most kids ride their bikes everywhere here."

"C-Could I ride with you, maybe?" Her voice was suddenly shy, no longer meeting Jake's eyes. "It's just summer and I-I don't know anyone yet and-"

"Yes!" Jake cut her off, and mentally scolded himself, but as Honey flashed him a wide smile he couldn't find himself caring. She tossed the bread on the table just inside the door, slid on her purple jelly sandals and shut the door behind her. She led Jake to the empty garage, only full of empty moving boxes and a bright yellow bike. As she led them out of the garage and towards the edge of the yard, Jake's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her.

"Shouldn't you let your momma know you left, leave her a note or somethin'?"

Honey's eyes cut to her feet, her smile fading.

"She won't care, I'll be back before she will. S-She's a nurse, works the night shift at the old folks home in the next town over."

Jake nodded but said nothing, pedaling off on his own bike to lead her back down to his farm.

From that moment on, Jake and Honey were practically inseparable. The entire summer was spent with a blue bike parked next to a yellow one, swimming in the creek behind Jake's house, and running around the farm with nothing but their imagination and makeshift stick swords. Jake's Border Collie, John Wayne, became a frightening dragon of their imagination, and Honey taught Jake how to make flower crowns from the wildflowers in the fields. Janet had grown fond of looking out her front window to see Honey sitting next to Jake under her magnolia tree, reading her Boxcar Children book as much as she could with Jake chattering next to her. Even when Jake was busy with his farm chores, Honey would sit placidly under the tree, enjoying the occasional breeze as she read her book of the week. After the long summer, Jacob Sr. had started referring to it as "Honey's tree," and he'd laugh to himself every time he saw the girl sitting quietly under it. Both Janet and Jacob Sr. loved having the sweet but shy girl around, especially when they found out that she spent most of her time alone in that house down the road. On the last night before summer ended, Jake and Honey sat under the tree, swatting at mosquitoes as the Texas sun set. Jake looked over at Honey, who had finally put her book down, and asked:

"Why do you like this tree so much?"

She smiled a smile that Jake knew to be half-hearted and brought her knees to her chest, her chin resting on her kneecaps.

"It reminds me of home."

Honey had moved from her tiny town in Mississippi that summer, and she often talked of her home there, the friends and family she'd left behind, how her mother had left when her grandmother died, looking for a fresh start.

"My Gram had a tree like this in her yard, and she'd babysit me when Mom worked," Honey's eyes rested on the ground, where she was picking grass from the ground around her bare feet. "She'd read to me a lot, and it was my favorite place in the world. Sometimes when I read here it sort of feels like I never left."

Jake simply nodded, thinking of the mother he'd only met in pictures, and the grandparents he wouldn't trade for the world's richest man. Neither of them spoke a word about the statement she made, but they understood what it meant to both of them. Even at age nine, Jake was in love with the girl next door, even if he didn't know it yet. From the first year they met and every year after, Jake and Honey found themselves under the magnolia blossoms. Well, almost every year...

As the budding teens entered into their freshman year at Haven High School, the differences between their personalities became more apparent than ever. Jake was the ideal all-American southern boy: athletic, outgoing, someone who guys high-fived in the hallway, and one that girls would be late to class just to get a glimpse of. Jake was never one to let the attention get to his head, at least not too much. Sure, he enjoyed the feeling of being liked, and, sure, he could be cocky at times, but he was never the one to bully those completely different from him. Someone like Honey. Honey had always been quiet, shy by nature, and the very definition of an advanced student. She was beloved by her teachers, but not as well received by her classmates. With a town as small as Haven, it was either incredibly easy or incredibly hard to make friends, and for Honey, it seemed to be the latter. It wasn't as if Honey was perpetually odd-she wasn't homely or weird, just quiet. Jake was the only one who knew about her boisterous laugh that could be prompted with his corny jokes, or her wild streak, like sneaking into his bedroom window after she and her mother got into yet another fight.

At the beginning of the school year, she spent her breaks talking to Jake, and she sat next to him at lunch. He'd let her ramble about her current read, and he'd talk about yesterday's football practice. She'd leave with the promise to come around for dinner, Mrs. Janet was making her favorite. However, when football season started, and Jake had made an infamous saving play at one of the first few games, he had peaked in popularity. Honey found herself on the outside of his swarm of new friends, listening to him talk to his football buddies while the girls that followed shot her sympathetic or lethal glances. She'd ignored it at first, simply enjoying her paperback until Jake could spare himself a minute to talk to her. Eventually, the bell would sound before she even got the chance to say 'hello' to him, and, with her heart suddenly heavy, she'd make her way to class. The routine lasted for weeks and she'd find herself waiting by the phone, figuring Jake would call her after football practice, but she'd only be greeted with silence through the night. After the second week of no contact, she decided to leave Jake and his new friends to their own devices, opting to sit in the library for breaks, taking her lunch in the empty courtyard. It was like Jake hadn't noticed her absence at all, at least in her mind, but Jacob Sr. and Janet noticed immediately. They had missed her bright aura that lit up their farmhouse, watching as she greeted the dogs as she parked her now lilac bike in the driveway. Janet missed her companionship as Honey would watch her sew patches onto Jacob Sr. and Jake's clothes, and her husband missed catching up with her over dinner. The only time they'd see her anymore would be on Friday nights, at Jake's games. She'd sit in the bleachers with them, decked out in her navy blue and gold, watching intently as the boys in jerseys made their way up and down the field. At the end of the game, she'd say her goodbyes before Jake would find his grandparents and they wouldn't see her until the following Friday. In typical grandparent fashion, Janet had assumed Jake had done something. Her grandson was kind, gentlemanly, but he also had a sharp tongue and a big head, which he sometimes used in malice. So, over dinner one Thursday, Janet finally dipped her toes into the water.

"Maybe you should talk to Honey after the game tomorrow, she always seems to slip away before you two get to catch up."

Jake's eyebrows furrowed as he wiped his mouth, looking up at his grandmother.

"Honey? At a football game? Granny, I don't really think that's her scene. She hates when we have a pep rally at school, I don't think she's going to a football game voluntarily."

Jacob Sr. and Janet give each other a knowing look across the table.

"How blind are ya, son?" Jacob Sr.'s voice is accusatory.

Jake looks up from his plate, looking over at his grandfather with a confused look.

"She's been at every game this season, Jake," his grandmother's voice speaks, much softer than her husbands. "She sits next to us in the stands. When was the last time you two talked? Just the two of you?"

Jake scoffs at his grandmother's accusation, his head shaking as he tried to wrack his brain for the last time he'd talked to his best friend.

"Maybe a week or so ago, I-I can't remember."

"That's a damn shame," Jacob Sr.'s voice grumbled. "She's a sweet girl, smart too. I know she doesn't run the same circles as you and your new buddies, but she's a good friend Jake, and you're treatin' her as if she doesn't exist. She still comes to all of those games. I'm not tellin' you what to do, but maybe give her a call, and pray to the Lord above that she wants to talk to your dumb ass."

Jake's heart sank as he carried out his nightly farm chores that night, thinking of how he had treated Honey. He knew what the other girls in the group said about her, how she was 'quiet' and 'weird,' often making comments that were completely false or disrespectful. Jake always shut the comments down, but found himself not bothering to talk to the one person who had always been there for him. Was it his fear of his new friends thinking he was weird? Did he think he wouldn't be surrounded by his football buddies if they saw him talking to someone like Honey? As Jake shut the barn door, he sighed, deciding he didn't care about either. Honey had been his friend for years, long before high school or popularity, or stupid teenage rules. She'd never changed, she was still the girl he fell in love with all those years ago. That night, as he sat by the phone thinking of what to say, he'd heard the faintest knock on his door. He figured it was his Granny coming to tell him goodnight, so he made quick work of making his way to the door and flinging it open. Instead of his grandmother, Honey stood in front of him. She held an algebra textbook in her arms, her eyes never meeting his, her arms crossed protectively. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks staining her cheeks. She'd been crying, and Jake knew Honey all too well, her tears had nothing to do with the algebra assignment. Something had happened to her.

"Uh, hey, I-I know it's late, and I didn't want to bother you, but I've been workin' on this stupid algebra assignment for three hours, and i-it's not making a lick of sense. You-You're the only person I know who could help me, so if you could just show me how to do one, I'll be out of your hair. I know you have a game tomorrow, and you should really sleep-"

Honey was rambling, picking the skin around her fingernails, she was nervous. It shattered his heart in his chest, he could never remember a time when she was nervous around him.

"No, no, you're fine, Honey. C'mere."

He opened the door wide for her to come in. She nodded in thanks, hovering awkwardly in the space between his bed and his desk. Any other time she'd plop herself down on his plaid comforter, all but curling into the sheets and falling asleep. Now, she didn't know what to do. She hadn't spoken to him in weeks, and he was different now. He wasn't just Jake, her Jake, he was Jake Seresin, up and coming star of their hometown football team, someone that a person like her should avoid in the hallway, someone that shouldn't even be talking to her.

He pushed the chair of his desk out for her, figuring she'd feel more comfortable there. She laid her textbook and notebook out flat, opening the book to the dozens of equations she couldn't make out. Honey was incredibly smart, but as her math classes advanced, she found herself staring at her own notes in utter confusion.

"Um, so, this is on polynomials," she started. "But I couldn't even tell you what a fuckin' polynomial is and I'm starting to lose my mind."

Jake quickly noted the physical manifestation of her worry-her hair messy with the way she had been running her hands through it, the chipped nail polish on her nails, and her chewing on her bottom lip. His heart ached, how had he not noticed her struggling? They were in the same class, she sat two chairs in front of him.

"Honey, I'm sorry."

She didn't even spare him a look.

"It's not your fault I'm stupid, Jake."

Jake took her arm in a light hold, turning her to look at him.

"I'm not talkin' about algebra, and you're not stupid, first of all. You're one of the smartest people I know. I'm talkin' about the way I've been actin'. It's not fair to you, I've been an ass. I've been ignoring you at school, treatin' you as if you aren't even there. You've come to all my games and I didn't even know. Thanks for that, by the way, but, I mean it, Honey. I'm sorry."

Honey shrugs, her face sprouting a faint pink blush.

"'S fine, people grow up, move on. You don't have to apologize for leaving me for people more like-minded. I get it, I don't necessarily fit the mold of your new friend group. It's okay. They seem to really like you though, and you seem happy. Plus Sam is...she's pretty. I get why you wouldn't want me hanging around."

"Sam?" Jake's voice was confused. Sam was a cheerleader, and she was friends with the girlfriends of his teammates. They had a passing conversation from time to time, but they weren't dating. "What're you talkin' about?"

Honey's brow furrowed, tapping her pencil's eraser against her book.

"Sam Vance told me like the third or fourth week of school that you were together, around the same time we stopped talking. I just assumed that was why you didn't want to talk anymore. It's sort of the reason I've kept my distance."

Jake's blood boiled, he was not dating Sam Vance. She was heinously mean, even to her own 'friends.'

"Honey," Jake started, his eyes full of sympathy, his flash of anger flickering. "I'm not dating her, not by a long shot. I don't know why she lied to you, I've never said more than a few sentences to one another, she's...mean. She's vicious, I'm sorry."

Honey's head only shook in a nonchalant manner. She was good at this, pushing people away, Jake had noticed it over the years. After years of practically raising herself, those she loved either abandoning her or leaving her in death, she expected everyone to leave. Honey herself knew that someday Jake would leave her, just like everyone else, so when he pulled away, she didn't bother trying to stop it, no matter how it hurt.

"Stop that. I know what I did was shitty, and it seemed like I didn't want you there, but this isn't me dumping you off, Honey. I swear. And I know something's wrong, you're not crying because of a homework assignment. If it's because of what happened between us, I'll do anythin' to make it up to you-"

Honey's bottom lip trembles, her eyes lining with tears as she shakes her head. She looks up at Jake, pain clouding her usually kind eyes.

"You don't have to worry about me, Jake."

"No I don't," he stated honestly. "I want to, Honey. You're my best friend, and you're hurtin'. You may not need me, but I want to help you. I know I haven't been a good friend, the worst actually, but talk to me, please."

Honey looks at her lap, bringing her knees to her chest in an action of protection Jake was familiar with-every time she has to get vulnerable, it's her defensive action, as if curling up in a ball would save her from hurt.

"For what it's worth," Honey started, her voice small and quiet. "I really don't understand polynomials, like, at all. But you're right, it's more than that." She pauses and takes a deep breath, Jake's heart shattering. Her inability to speak freely, the bags under her eyes, her nervous habit at the forefront-he'd never seen her so tired, so heavy.

"About a week ago, I came home and all of my mom's stuff was gone. I mean, all of it, her bedroom was completely empty. She left a note on the kitchen table." Her eyes focus on the Cowboys poster on the back of Jake's door, her eyes dulling. "She decided to move in with her boyfriend, and he-he doesn't even know she has a child, so she left the house for me. Which is fine, we never got along anyway, it's just been...lonely. She pays the bills and leaves money, so it's not like I'm fending for myself, but, it just really sucks she doesn't really care about me. I guess it shouldn't, but-" She pauses, eyes dazed out, silent tears running down her cheeks. "Sorry for the soapbox, I just, it all is piling up, and now I'm crying over polynomials." She laughs dryly. "Just, God I've missed you, Jake. I sort of pushed myself away from you because I thought you'd found people you'd rather spend your time with. I'm nothing like you interest wise, and-"

"Stop putting yourself down, I won't stand for it." Jake looks at her as she laughs in a quiet manner, hands wiping away her silent tears. Jake moves directly in front of her, making eye contact. "I mean it. You're ten times cooler than any of them. Most of the guys on the team, pretty laid back, cool, but all they ever want to talk about is football and how hot so-and-so is, and their girlfriends? Worse, by a thousand, at least most of them. I'd like to think I'm not that shallow, right?"

Jake Seresin was a lot of things, but shallow was not one of them.

"Please hang out with me tomorrow? I'll have Granny pick you up for school. You and I are going to talk until the bell rings, you've got to catch me up on that Scarlett girl in that book you were reading last time we talked. I'm sitting with you at lunch because Granny made me promise to bring you lunch, and you gotta catch me up on last week's Dawson's Creek episode. Then I'll see you at the game, and we can swing by The Burger Basket, you, me, burgers, fries, a strawberry shake for you and a chocolate one for me."

Honey laughed, nodding her head, her heart warming as she heard Jake ask for the things she thought he found annoying-her ranting about the books she was reading, or the TV shows she was watching. She wiped her tears, standing and hugging the blonde boy who knew her better than herself sometimes. Her chest felt lighter, it felt good to be known so incredibly well. He squeezed her tight before she let go. (Jake never, ever, let go first.) She sits back in the desk chair, sliding in next to Jake, her head falling on his shoulder.

"So," she spoke after a moment of silence. "Polynomials?"

Jake chuckles.

"Let's make a deal, Hon. I explain to you how to solve these equations, and you explain to me what the hell Shakespeare is talking about in those English assignments for Mrs. Elmer's class?"

Honey laughs, she and Jake were both good students, but in two very different subjects.

"You've got yourself a deal, J."

Jake smirks, taking the pencil that sat in the crevice of the book, his scratchy handwriting across her paper as he attempted to explain. In a matter of minutes, Honey began to understand, a smile forming as she grasped the concepts. Jake's green eyes met hers in the light of his desk lamp, glimmering, and the breath in his chest catches, his heart hammering. His palms sweat around the pencil and he can't look away from her.

"You alright, Seresin?" Honey's voice is laced with humor, and it snaps him out of his trance.

"Y-Yeah."

Jake had lied, he had just realized, for the first time since Jake had known Honey, he was beginning to see her as something more than just his best friend. When he looked at Honey, he noticed something he'd never noticed before, she was beautiful.

-

[springseasonie]

Blackout | KDY (M)

Established relationship, Fiance Doyoung x fem reader

Summary: The powerful storm outside knocks your power out even though Doyoung assured you it would be fine. Luckily, he bought candles the day before just in case this happened. But even with the candles to light the dark house, you were still a bit anxious about the storm, so Doyoung decided to distract you for a bit

Warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, breeding kink, softer dynamic, fluff (I think idk), proofread but may still be errors

Word count: 3,2k

Song recs: get you by Daniel Caesar

A/N: wrote this listening to the cutest kpop gg music you could imagine. Literally listening to achoo by lovelyz rn (stream) please lmk if I missed any warnings. Feedback is loved and appreciated

"Are you sure everything will be fine out there? It's looking pretty serious." You stood by the window of your living room staring outside at the storm.

"Well I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that you shouldn't stand near the window like that." Doyoung grabbed your arm pulling you away from the window. "It's night time so hopefully nothing too crazy happens. Are all the flashlights up here?"

"Yeah." You turned to Doyoung who put his hands on his hips with a concentrated expression. He was always so cute like that. "Babe, we're gonna be okay. There's no need to-"

The room went completely silent as your vision was impaired with the sudden blackout. All that you could see was the trees moving in the strong wind and power lines flying in different directions. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, turning on the flashlight to see in front of you.

"Babe? You still there," you said loudly, looking around.

"Yeah I'm just getting the flashlights and candles," he called from the kitchen.

"I didn't even know we had candles," you laugh.

"I bought them yesterday just in case." You pointed your phone in the direction of the kitchen, seeing him walk back with his hands and arms full. He placed all the stuff on the coffee table with a big sigh. "Wanna help me light them?"

"Of course." You sat on the floor next to him between the couch and the table. Doyoung handed you a lighter and the two of you started lighting the candles "you're always so prepared."

"In life, you always think 3 steps ahead." He placed the candle in the candle holder, carefully putting it on the table. Doyoung reached to pick up another one, but was distracted by how pretty you looked in the lowlight. Your features were soft, and the way you picked up everything was delicate.

You turned to ask him something, but was quickly humored when you caught him staring at you. Doyoung looked away from you super flustered by it. His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, making him cover his face. You snickered as he whined in his hands from the embarrassment. Even after dating him for so long, he was still embarrassed like a middle schooler.

"Don't be embarrassed," you teased, poking him softly. "you're so cute, you know that?"

Doyoung groaned, earning a soft laugh from you. "stop, it's embarrassing."

"It's not." You continued lighting candles listening to the rain pick up outside. You set it down before turning to Doyoung who was still hiding his face. You ruffled your hands in his hair knowing that would be the only thing to make him come back to you.

"Don't mess up my hair, I spent so much time on it today," he whined, moving your hand gently.

"It still looks good. Looks like the aftermath of a long week," you said, winking at him. Doyoung, who was already flustered enough, gave you nervous laughter. "You know..these candles are kind of romantic."

"You think so," he asked, a small smile on his face. He stood up m, taking 2 candles with him setting up the room.

"Mhm," you answer. You finished lighting the rest of the candles and stood up to help Doyoung put them around the first floor. "Maybe we should be romantic while we have the chance," you laugh.

"Do you think we're still gonna have to work tomorrow?"

"Hopefully not. Hopefully a tree falls in the middle of the street. Okay…I'm all done." You turn to Doyoung who was finishing up the candles right along with you. The room looked nice and lit up like this. It reminded you of a room in a dark academia movie with all the books and papers lying around. Doyoung looked good in the low light too. The slight silhouette of his body in front of the candles was so pretty. He was so pretty, and it was starting to do things to you.

You and Doyoung sat on the couch together snuggled into one another under the throw blanket. You nuzzled your head between his neck, inhaling his cologne that you loved so much. You felt Doyoung tense up a bit, squeezing you closer into him as the storm picked up. He knew you didn't like storms very much, and you were starting to get a lot more anxious as time went on.

"You okay," he said quietly.

You nodded, planting a small kiss on his jawline. "It's getting really bad out there."

"I know," he said, kissing your forehead. "Don't worry about the storm, okay? I'm here."

"I know I shouldn't worry…but what if the tree in the backyard falls or the one across the street? What if-"

Doyoung turned your head to face him and kissed you deeply. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You pulled away from him, looking up at him with adoration. He was always so sweet, never wanting you to worry about a thing.

"Don't worry about what's going on outside," he said quietly.

"Well, now I can't worry about anything because of you." You smiled, glancing at his dimly lit lips. "I think we should take advantage of this romantic setting. What do you think?"

"I think you're right." Doyoung smiled before kissing you again, capturing your lips in a heated exchange. You kiss him back, moaning softly into his mouth. Your hand finds its way to his chest, holding his shirt softly.

"I bet you were thinking about this all day," he mumbled against your lips.

His voice was so deep and raspy and you could hear the smirk in his statement. It gave you butterflies, and they immediately went right to your core. You wanted to just kiss him for the time being, just in case something bad happened outside or inside. But the way he was kissing you, the way his fingers softly glided on your arm - you needed him.

"Do you think you can distract me some more," you mumbled. You pulled away from his lips, kissing his face softly. You could feel his beard growing back and still smell the expensive skin care he loved.

"It's almost like you read my mind."

You and Doyoung move yourselves on the couch, him under you and you on top of him. Doyoung could never get over the way you looked at him. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. Not once have you even made him feel unwanted or unloved, and he hoped that it would stay that way forever.

"You're staring again," you giggle softly.

"I know." Doyoung took one of your hands and clasped them with his, squeezing it tight. "You're so beautiful."

"Don't get sentimental on me," you whine softly, but the smile on your lips was wide. You always got shy when he started complimenting you out of the blue. Doyoung was big on words of affirmation. He always had to tell you that he loves you, or anything that showed his love for you in general. You loved it because no one ever made you feel as special as he did.

"I'm not being sentimental, I'm just telling you." Doyoung kissed the back of your hand, making you even more flustered than before. "But I'll stop talking because I know you just want my dick in you."

"You didn't have to put it that way," you laugh. You leaned down, kissing him softly. Doyoung placed his other hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh softly. Doyoung let go of your hand and placed both of them on your hips. Unconsciously, you started to grind on top of him, lips never leaving his. His hands followed your movements, pushing his hips up to get more friction.

The sound of the rain breathing the windows created the perfect white noise for you to put your focus on him. You pulled away from him, leaning lower to kiss his neck.

"God, I love you so much," he sighed.

"I know you do." You came up and pulled your shirt above your head, throwing it on the floor in front of the couch. You reached to your back, unclipping your bra. Doyoung's gaze never left your body, watching as the fabric fell from your skin exposing your chest. Every time felt like the first time. It didn't matter how many times you undressed yourself in front of him, he would still get excited and nervous all at the same time.

"I'll never get tired of this," he mumbled, eyes going straight to your chest.

"I hope you don't because I'll never get tired of you," you said softly. You lift Doyoung's shirt tugging it up. He lifts his arms helping you get the fabric off of him. You toss the shirt next to yours and shuffle off his lap to remove your pants. Doyoung started doing the same. His hands clumsily undid his belt, fingers unable to properly hold the leather because of how sweaty his fingertips were. You watched him, laughing softly as you moved his hands gently, undoing his belt for him.

"Why do you still get nervous every time," you laughed.

"Because it's you."

Your hands are on his zipper when you stop and look at him. You leaned in, kissing him quickly with a small smile on your face. "We might as well get married now since you wanna be all cute and romantic," you tease.

"But if we do that, you won't get your big princess wedding." The both of you laugh as you pull off his jeans and boxers. You run your hands down his chest, making his breath hitch in his throat slightly. The way your nails raked softly over his skin - he wanted to put a baby in you right at this moment.

You had almost completely forgotten about the storm at that point, just focusing on Doyoung in the candle light. But like always, your small fears had to betray you in some way. You glanced out the window, immediately becoming worried again seeing the trees sway in the wind and - wait, is it hailing now? The loud sound of the balls of nice hitting your window and car in the driveway confirmed your thoughts, making you knit your brows.

"I think it's hailing now, Do."

"I know, but don't worry about it, okay." Doyoung put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Don't worry about anything. Just lay back and let me take care of you." Doyoung gently laid you on the couch, lifting your legs. You and him had discussed having children before, conversation always ending in "I don't know" or "maybe," but right now he was feeling like the answer should be "definitely."

You laid there watching him as he lined himself with your core, eyes lost in the wetness between your legs. Doyoung pushed himself into you, a sigh of relief and pleasure falling from both of your lips. Doyoung moved his hands from your thighs to your ankles, holding them tight in his hands. Your brows knit once he starts thrusting, moving in and out of you slowly.

"You remember that conversation we had about kids," he asked, breathing heavily because of the pleasure.

"Mhm," you nod, lip between your teeth.

"I..I changed my mind, I want one… now." Doyoung's other hand found its way to your core, fingers gently toying with your clit as he thrusted. He felt you shiver under his touch, soft moans filling the space of the quiet room. "Wanna put a baby in you so bad.."

You nodded, only half listening to what he was saying. And in all honesty, you wanted it too. You needed it. "Please Doyoung, put a baby in me," you moaned softly.

Doyoung kept thrusting in you slowly, breathy groans leaving his lips. His eyes followed your hands as you brought one to your chest, pinching your nipple, and the other to Doyoung's hand that was in your clit. You followed his movements, pressing his fingers on your clit harder. "Fuck," you whispered. "Faster baby."

Doyoung let go of your ankles, allowing you to readjust yourself on the couch. He leaned down, kissing you passionately as he thrusted. His movements were sharp and deep, the sound of skin slapping playing over your ears instead of the worsening storm outside. You cupped his face, moaning on his lips.

"Fuck..right there," you whined softly.

If he could, he would get your face at the very moment tattooed on his brain. You were so pretty, you were always pretty no matter what. But something about your face when you were under him, letting yourself be vulnerable despite your usual introverted nature was so fascinating to him. You always crumbled at every touch, every word, every sound. And to make matters better, you looked angelic in the candle light.

Your arms were now around his neck, forehead resting on his as the both of you moaned. Doyoung's arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He needed to be chest to chest with you, feeling every breath you took. Doyoung slipped into the crook of your neck, planting messy kisses on your sweaty skin. You whimpered in his ears, hands in his hair.

"You sound so pretty baby," he mumbled on your skin. "I love it so much."

"D-Doyoung.." The way his name rolled off your tongue almost sent him to the moon. You clenched around him slightly, earning a small raspy whine from him. Doyoung took your left hand and pinned it on the arm of the couch above you. He clasped his hand with yours, squeezing it tightly as if he would lose you if he let it go.

He kissed you once again, tongue dancing with yours. He was so desperate for you and you could feel it. You always felt it, and it always turned you on even more. You never knew Doyoung to be a person who loved physical touch, but after you started dating him, he was like a completely different person, especially in bed. He borderline worshipped, and while it was overwhelming in the beginning, you grew to love and crave more of his attention.

Just as he pulled away, the sudden sound of thunder roared through the sky. The sound was so strong, you felt your house shake at the sound’s vibrations. The sudden noise made you jump, making Doyoung pause his movements for a moment. "You okay," he asked worriedly, scanning your face.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "I'm okay, it just surprised me a little." You have him a quick kiss moving your arm from around his neck to cup his face. "Keep going."

Doyoung started thrusting again, a low grunt in his throat feeling you squeeze around him again. You were still cupping his face, finger tips lightly brushing his skin with every movement. Doyoung squeezed your hand again, wincing slightly at your nails digging into his skin. Doyoung started fucking into you harder, pulling louder sounds out of you.

"That..that feels good," you said between pants.

"How good baby? Tell me." Doyoung leaned into you neck, teeth nipping softly at your skin. His arm was still wrapped around your back, rubbing circles in your waist.

"Really good," you whimpered. "I'm so close Do."

His brows were knit when he lifted his head from your neck. Doyoung canned your face, a small smile tugging in his lips. He could always tell when you were close. You always tend to cling to his shoulder or grab whatever you were holding tighter, and this time it was both of those things. Your hands gripped his hand and shoulder hard, nails imprinting on his flesh. "Look at me when you cum."

You nodded, trying your best to listen and be good for him. You felt yourself become small under Doyoung's intense gaze, gulping when you felt your body begin to tense up. "Baby, I..I'm gonna.."

And just like that, you came hard squeezing around him hard. Your moans filled the room, body trembling under his when he pulled you closer.

"That's it Y/N. I know that felt good," he cooed. "Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside me," you panted. "I wasn't kidding earlier."

"You sure? I don't mind doing it but-"

"I'm sure Doyoung." You kissed him, smiling against his lips when he kissed you back harder. Doyoung started thrusting into you again, a shudder falling last your lips. You were already sensitive from cumming first, every movement started feeling like an electrical current flowing throughout body.

"Fucking hell," you moaned loudly, throwing your head back at the feeling.

"Just a little more baby. Can you take it for me?"

"Anything for you." You were slightly slurring on your words, too overtaken with pleasure. Doyoung kept rocking his body at a steady pace, but his movements were getting rougher and rougher. He dropped his head in the crook of your neck, soft moans and whimpers leaving his lips closer and closer to his orgasm.

"Cum in me Doyoung. Make me yours."

That's all he needed. Doyoung came inside of you hard for the first time. The both of you moaned together, the warm liquid spreading inside you. Doyoung clung to your body, still holding your body close to his like you would run away from him. His breathing was heavy along with yours, breaths tickling your neck. Doyoung let go of your hand but stayed on your palm simply resting it.

"I can't believe we actually did that," he said giving you a soft tired chuckle.

"Well I can." You kissed the top of his head, nuzzling your nose in his hair.

"Are you..sure you're okay with me cumming inside you? That seemed like such a heat of the moment thing," he questioned.

"It was, but I don't regret it."

Doyoung lifted his body off of yours, staring down at your tired face. You had a happy, content look on your face, like you waited for this to happen. Just when he was about to say something thunder roared again. He looked over to the window, seeing that the hail stopped and all that was left was horrible rain. This time you didn't jump because you were so distracted by the mere thought of a mini Doyoung running around your house.

"The hail stopped.."

"I love you."

A soft laugh escapes your lips speaking at the same time as him. You licked your lips, smiling at his flustered expression. "Why are you getting embarrassed?"

"You said that out of nowhere," he said, blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Your naked and inside of me. And when you pull out, your-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. I shouldn't be embarrassed about it," he chuckled. Doyoung kissed you softly, smiling in your lips. "I love you too."

"Good. Now what are we naming our children?"

Doyoung gave you an amused look, trying to lift himself off your body only for you to pull him back down. "Y/N, we'll talk about that when I get off you."

"But I want you close," you pout.

"Okay, fine. If we have a girl, I like the name Sarah," he said, giving into your question.

"And a boy?"

"I just want girls."

"Do, that's not how it works-"

"I said what I said."

[guzhufuren]

Japan 🇯🇵 A Guide to Some of the Best Queer Asian Shows

Full list here.

1. Cherry Magic!   mind reading; secret crush; office setting

By still being a vіrgin at 30, Adachi gains a magical power – the ability to read other people's minds by touching them. At first, he’s overwhelmed by his new ability, and it’s not proving to be helpful to him. But that all changes when he accidentally touches their office’s most perfect guy Kurosawa, who he learns has romantic feelings for him.

WeTV (Cherry Magic) & no international streaming of Cherry Magic The Movie is available to my knowledge, so watch on bilibili or KissKH

2. Kieta Hatsukoi (My Love Mix-Up!)   misunderstanding; high school setting

Aoki has a crush on Hashimoto, the girl in the seat next to him in class. But he despairs when he borrows her eraser and sees she's written the name of another boy — Ida — on it. To make matters more confusing, Ida sees Aoki holding that very eraser and thinks Aoki has a crush on him!

Viki

3. Our Dining Table food; child character

Salaryman Yutaka finds it difficult to share meals with other people. However, his life starts to change when one day, his cooking attracts the attention of a young boy named Tane and his older brother Minoru. The two brothers are impressed by Yutaka's cooking skill and invite him to their house to cook together. Yutaka's dreary life begins to change, and soon he finds himself looking forward to the meals he shares with the Ueda siblings together, as well as developing a taste for romantic feelings.

GagaOOLala

4. She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat wlw; neighbours; self-discovery; food

Nomoto loves to cook, but tends to make too much food and has no one to share it with. Luckily for her, turns out her neighbor Kasuga has a big enough appetite for the both of them.

No international streaming available, translated to english by Furritsubs, S1 & S2, watching instructions provided, please support translator on kofi.

5. Takara-kun to Amagi-kun high school setting; relationship exploration

Takara is a good-looking popular guy in class, while Amagi is a simple but bright and pure fellow classmate. The two begin to date in secret after Amagi's blurted out confession.

Viki or GagaOOLala

6. Old Fashion Cupcake! age gap; boss/assistant; self-discovery; office setting; food

At 39, Nozue realizes that by letting himself be carried away by his daily life, he ended up locking himself into his routine. It is Togawa, his 29-year-old subordinate, who shakes up his habits by offering him one day to go snack on pastries in an establishment more popular with girls. From one snack to the next, Nozue feels rejuvenated... But is it really the effect of these delicacies or rather that of emerging feelings?

Viki or GagaOOLala

7. Love is Better the Second Time Around second chances; adult romance

An associate university professor and an editor in their thirties, who promised to elope together back in high school but didn't because of a misunderstanding, find each other again after a magazine column ties them together.

GagaOOLala

8. Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice But to Kiss! lucky guy/unlucky guy; university setting

College student Fukuhara has bad luck that causes problems everywhere he goes. One day, Shinomiya, a student with super good luck, helps him out. Now, in order to divide the luck between them, Fukuhara needs to be with Shinomiya all the time.

Viki or GagaOOLala

9. Perfect Propose childhood friends to lovers; roommates

Hirokuni Watari, a cog in the corporate machine, faints on the street one day and ends up meeting Kai Fukaya, a childhood friend he hasn't seen in 12 years. With Kai having no place to stay, he ends up staying with Hirokuni and making home-cooked meals for him to soothe his exhaustion.

GagaOOLala

10. Two People Who Can't Fall in Love (Koisenu Futari) aromantism; asexuality; self-exploration

Sakuko finds it difficult to live in a society which operates under the assumption that people will fall in love with each other. She meets supermarket employee Takahashi and ends up living with him under one roof because of their similar values towards romance.

No international streaming available, watching instructions provided here.

11. I Cannot Reach You best friends to lovers; secret crush

Long time friends and total opposites, Yamato and Kakeru always stick together. When the reserved Yamato admits his feelings, can everything change?

Netflix

12. I Want to See Only You best friends to lovers; coming of age

In the final summer of high school, childhood best friends Sakura and Yuma must start thinking about college and their futures. That is, until Sakura confesses to Yuma with a kiss.

No international streaming available, translated to english by Furritsubs, watching instructions provided, please support translator on kofi.

13. A Man Who Defies the World of BL breaking the 4th wall; comedy; university setting

It suddenly dawns on Mob that he lives in a BL world! So he must turn down any hot guys who approach him.

Viki or GagaOOLala (S1) & Viki or GagaOOLala (S2)

14. My Personal Weatherman roommates; under-negotiated kink

Yoh is a struggling ero-manga artist living with his Mizuki Segasaki, a popular weather forecaster. Yoh believes their arrangement comes with Segasaki providing for him in exchange for housework and sex. Segasaki always has sex with Yoh before the day when the rain season will be over, which results in Yoh being sexually frustrated whenever Segasaki predicts sunny weather for the next day.

GagaOOLala or Viki or Apple TV

---

You can watch some shows for free by setting VPN to Japan. In other cases I recommend paying for subscriptions to show appreciation and support of content in order to get more of it in the future, but if you can’t, watch on KissKH (better quality), Dramacool or get files from MkvDrama. Enjoy!  🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️