#showing how little they all seem to matter to butcher

[spacediddly]

Thinking back on it now, I’m not surprised Hughie reacted the way he did when Butcher abandoned the Boys and then just showed back up out of the blue. Hughie’s mom just left him and his dad one day out of nowhere and never returned. Hughie expected him to never return, and thought the rest of the boys would feel the same way too. But then Butcher just waltzed back in like nothing happened, and everyone goes on like everything’s normal.

Of course he’s mad. Hughie has a history of people cares about (and loves) walking out on him and not returning, just abandoning him.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟷

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, soft Soldier Boy, sensitive Reader, comfort, mention of drugs

Word Count: 4435

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Sipping your whiskey, you looked out the window, listening to every sound as the gentle breeze entered the little room. Then, you sat down on the coach and switched on the television.

After you and Ben had spoken a little more and made it clear that you no longer wanted a romantic relationship with him, Ben had left the room, leaving you alone. You additionally stated that it would be best for you to put the past behind you and never bring it up again. After everything that had happened, you knew you had to start over, but before that, there were a lot of things you needed to take care of, including purifying your name, though you had no idea how to accomplish it. 

When you informed him you no longer loved him, you could see his confusion and insecurity in his expression, and your own heart began to turn cold toward him. When he was trying to start over with you, maybe you should have been relieved or in a state of satisfaction, but that didn't make you feel any better. 

Since you were the only person he had known for years, with whom he had intimate connections, and who was still loyal to him no matter what, it was obvious that he just wanted you by his side all the time. Ben didn't know the difference between romance and being teammates. He just loved the idea of someone being loyal to him until the end; it didn't matter to him if he loved that person or not.

He most likely believed that you would be the finest person to rely on for anything, whether it be a love connection or just someone to work with. It was the same thing for him.

He needed decades to get over his mistrust of you, but it also damaged yours for him. It didn't require lots of pain on your part to convince him that you still loved him back then. 

After Ben had a quick shower, you heard that he was talking about other Payback members on the phone with Butcher. Being a superhuman with exceptional hearing in such situations was terrible; you couldn't stop listening to him even though you didn't want to concentrate on the noises he was making. You could hear every breath he took. 

Ben went to the kitchen and started looking for something to eat, and you two exchanged an odd glance. You knew you were starving at that point. 

He asked you softly as you got up and moved to his side, “Are you hungry too?”

You sighed and said, “Starving, actually,” giving up on finding an appropriate meal. “It seems Butcher lied about having everything we need here.”

“His lying ass will pay for that when he comes back,” he muttered as he showed you the spaghetti he found. “Guess we found something here.” 

You sat on the chair and asked him, “Well, you know I can't cook, right?” raising an eyebrow in response. He was aware of your lack of enthusiasm for cooking because you were terrible at it. 

Ben chucked lightly at you and added, “Unfortunately, I know that damn well. You would have killed me long ago if I weren't the most powerful being to have ever lived. You know, you're lucky to have me right now. It's time for the strongest supe to prepare some spaghetti for you. Others would die for such a chance.”

You rolled your eyes at his arrogance as he continued to compliment himself on his cooking skills. Ben was actually just as bad at cooking as you were, but you complimented him when he did it for you, simply to make him feel special and to reminisce about the joyful moments you two shared. He was just too ignorant back then to see this. 

“Others would definitely die, but not because of the thing you're thinking,” you said to him as he appeared confused and unsure about what to do first. With that dead serious look on his face, he was almost funny. 

With his rough beard, blue t-shirt, and gray sweatpants, he looked like someone else entirely—but in a good way. In some sense, he just seemed more manly and muscular. Ben had the most punchable face you could ever imagine, but he continued to act haughtily, knowing that no one would dare do such a thing and that he was unbeatable.

While he was adding water to the saucepan, he saw that you were staring at him and turned to face you, asking, “Why that look on your face?” 

“What look?”

He muttered, “Don't know,” as he lit the stove.

At last, you said, “You just look different.”

Ben frowned at your word choice and turned to face you, waiting for the water to boil. “What do you mean by ‘different’?”

You examined the serious expression on his face, ignoring his closeness.

“I'm not sure; maybe it's because of your coarse beard,” you just said. “You've never grown a beard before,” as his palm caressed his face, and a small grin appeared on his face.

“I knew you liked it, though,” he remarked, eyeing you. “Don't be shy to admit it makes me look even more masculine and fine, though I'm already good enough at this, you know.”

Yet while you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cockiness, you couldn't help but think it suited him better. 

“Whatever you say,” you sighed at the table, his rough hands still lingering around yours. He was sketching abstract circles on the table with his fingers. 

You looked up at his shield and moved toward it as Ben gazed upon you. You asked him if it was acceptable before touching his shield by glancing at him and whispering, “Is it okay?” When it came to his shield, he wasn't the most generous man. But occasionally, you lifted it when he wasn't around in the past. He didn't know that at the time. 

He watched you and answered, “Of course,” crossing his arms across his chest. He had a small smile on his lips, and he thought you looked heartwarming with his shield under your hands. He knew he would give you whatever you wanted.

Inhaling nervously, your fingers touched his shield. It was best to see if there was something wrong with you by gripping his shield because you were feeling a little unsteady, as though your powers had become drained and weakened, and you weren't sure why. Some supes found listing this shield to be rather heavy as well, so it would be a good way to see if there was a serious issue.

You shivered as the shield seemed heavy this time when you lifted it while holding it firmly. It was still able to be lifted, but the weight was making your hands tremble a little, which wasn't something that had happened before. When your body could take no more, your face turned white, and you carefully dropped the shield on the ground.

Your body tensed up as your mind raced with thoughts, attempting to make sense of what was happening to your body. Was it something that transpired in the laboratory during your torture, or was there another reason? You were completely clueless. Ben had a side effect that may switch him into a live nuclear bomb whenever he gets angry, but you didn't realize you were losing strength because it appeared like part of your power had been taken away from you. 

“You are aware that only you and I have the ability to lift that thing, aren't you? We are somewhat on the same level,” Ben remarked, sounding satisfied as he gave you a kind of proud grin and making it obvious that he was unaware of the situation. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, attempting to hide the dread in your voice. You weren't sure whether or not to discuss this with him. “I barely could lift it, though.”

When the water boiled, Ben stood up and said, “It looked good in your hands. Everything seems to be fine in your strong and little hands.” 

Your face heated at his filthy words the moment he turned to face you and winked. Sitting back in the chair, you questioned, “Why does your brain always focus on filthy stuff?” The smell of spaghetti filled the air, making you feel even more crave it. 

“Come on, I said absolutely nothing. It's really difficult to compliment a woman these days.”

“You're very considerate, Ben. I appreciate it,” you interrupted as you observed Ben carefully setting the table. 

Ben believed that by doing anything for you, you would be able to see that he had changed over the years, and he truly meant it when he told you he wanted a start over. He knew he needed to make you feel good and show you how much you meant to him. You always appreciated it when he made an effort for you, even if it was just for one small thing. And Ben knew it was a lie when you told him you didn't love him anymore because he was aware of how much you really did love him. You were just in denial, that's all. Ben would make you see your own feelings soon enough. 

You thanked Ben after enjoying your dinner in silence and were astonished to find he had done a nice job, but you kept that hidden from him. 

You quietly uttered, “Ben,” remembering the uncomfortable situation involving your strength. “Can we have some training? just for practice?” 

Ben raised an eyebrow, taken aback by your sudden desire to train with him like you had in the past. He kept getting thrilled, though, because he was continually thinking about how each one ended—on top of you, spilling within your pussy. He cleared his throat, trying not to think of those times of sweetness and heat that could change your opinion. 

“Of course, but why? I assumed that once you left Vought, you quit training altogether.” 

You immediately defended yourself by getting up and pushing the large coach to the other end of the room with ease, saying, “As you see, things changed. I was trapped in a tiny box for years, and I have no idea what tomorrow holds, so I need to have the ability to defend myself.”

Ben said in a serious voice, “I don't know how many times I need to say this, but nothing will happen to you as long as you stay with me; don't think about such meaningless things.” He then got up and immediately removed his blue shirt from his head and placed it on the chair. 

While attempting to look away from his massive, muscular chest, you said, “Why do I feel like you are showing off?” He appeared notably more sculpted than before. It seems that as you grew weaker, he grew stronger. Nothing in life is fair to you. 

When he was standing in front of you, just in his gray sweatpants, you didn't back down. To your surprise, as you tried not to lose yourself in his gaze, he stared at you sincerely, as though he genuinely wanted you to know you were safe in his care. You would believe him if he hadn't hurt you that much. 

You took a big breath, attempted to seem confident and optimistic, and mumbled, “Okay, do your best. Punch me.”

Ben stiffened while you awaited his attack. Despite pushing you to your limits during your training, he never physically attacked you. When he realized you were genuinely waiting for him to use force, he became uneasy. 

“What?” he questioned, sounding enraged at your apparent seriousness. “I won't fucking punch you or something.”

You put your hands on your hips and teased him, asking, “Who is acting like a pussy now? Will we train properly or not?”

He admitted that you were someone who was sometimes difficult and took a deep breath to attempt to find the right words to say without hurting your feelings. “You can't convince me to beat or punch you; that's where I draw the line. End of discussion.”

You started to become irritated with the way he was treating you, acting as though you might break and like a doll, so you asked, “Why don't you have some respect for me?” His shield felt weighty under your palms, making your nerves already tense. “You betrayed me, abandoned me, and now you're calling the shots? You're extremely kind to do that.”

You desired you were the deadliest poison right then and there, drenched in his blood.

He answered in a rough voice, “I do respect you,” trying not to offend you while ignoring the bitterness in your voice. “However, I won't hit you.”

To show him how serious you were, you gently pushed him across the room by his chest with a swift move. You were aware that in order for him to fully understand what was wrong with you without revealing anything to him, you had to push him as far as he would go.

You both exchanged looks as you noticed the enormous hole in the wall where Ben's nude back had hit. “Look, what have you done to the home of that cocksucker?” Ben said, obviously taken aback by your abrupt aggression, as he wiped the dust off himself. You could argue that instead of being upset about it, he gave you a sly glance that sent shivers down your spine. 

He said, “What would he think of if he saw the wall, huh?” as he stood in front of you.”Would he think that we had primal, animal-like sex? That I fucked you raw?”

You moved again to push him back against the same wall as your eyes grew wide at the pure filth coming from his mouth. But this time, he was prepared and quickly stopped your hand by palming your fist. He then gave you an evil smile, as if he wanted you to realize that he remained the strongest supe. 

“All right, show me what you can do, and let's see if you're still a good girl,” he groaned as he effortlessly stopped all of your attacks. 

You were making a lot of effort to hit him in the face, but you were consistently failing. Compared to your previous trainings, Ben was much harsher this time, or perhaps you weren't good enough for a proper training. You tried to move fast and step up your strikes, not wanting to give up, this time focusing on his legs. 

“You seem like a pretty tough one today, don't you?” You were trying your hardest to punch him when he teased you, but you were even more enraged because he seemed quite thrilled. “Do you remember how our training used to end once?”

As you grasped one of his muscular wrists and ultimately hit his stomach, you nodded and acknowledged that it had all happened "once." Despite your best efforts to control your breathing and not give him any indication that you were weak, you were already exhausted from trying to harm him and witnessing how much worse your powers had gotten.

He murmured softly, “There's something wrong with you,” and you succeeded in bringing him to the ground. He frowned his eyebrows, trying to figure out whether your lack of energy was the cause or something else.

You didn’t answer and he caught your wrist on the air and made you freeze on top of him, adding, “Are you really attacking?”

Ben was surprised by your lack of strength, even though he knew he was stronger than you, because there had never been such a large power imbalance in your training sessions. It seemed like you weren't giving it your all.

You muttered in a harsh tone, “I am,” attempting to get free of his tight hold. “I guess you've become somewhat more powerful.”

“No,” he said right away, perplexed by your lack of energy. The only thing that altered in him was the energy that was concealed beneath his skin and that would surface when he heard a Russian song or felt extremely angry. “Perhaps you need to get some sleep in order to grow stronger. You appear to be a little worn out here.”

Ben felt his heart melt as he understood that you needed more sleep and rest and that this wasn't the perfect moment to train at all. He should have given you more time. His hands loosened as guilt filled his body.

His harsh voice said, “You should be resting,” which briefly caused you to freeze. For the first time, he had finished the game so quickly on his own.

You attempted to punch Ben again by straddling him, but this time Ben didn't back down, so he changed your position; he was on top of you with ease, revealing his full strength. Ben wanted to stop you and give you time to regain your breath, but you were determined to fix whatever was broken inside of you.

You finally gave up after trying your hardest to unbalance him and free yourself, but he grabbed both of your hands and placed them on your head while examining every inch of your body with concern. You attempted to seem hopeful even though you were about to cry. Perhaps he was right. You were just pushing yourself a little too hard, and you needed to rest a little more.

Ben surprised you both by not making another dirty joke and by releasing your hands so you could both stand up.

When he saw that your face had fallen, he questioned, “Are you okay?” and lightly patted your arm. He forced himself to restrain himself from touching your face or anywhere else.

“Yeah,” you quickly nodded to him and straightened your t-shirt.

“Just try not to give it too much thought. You're being a little too hard on yourself. If you get enough sleep, everything will be fine.”

You whispered, “Perhaps,” as you massaged your hurting head. “I guess I should take a shower now.”

You heard Butcher's car approaching, and you and Ben exchanged looks. Your superior hearing skills were still working, at least.

Ben said, “He must have brought the stuff I told him to,” as he watched you enter the bathroom.

With the packages clenched in his hands, Butcher entered the house and peered at the big crack and break in the wall. The ground was covered in rubble and dust.

Ben violently grabbed everything from Butcher's hand and relived his seeing all with weed, cocaine, and fast food there. If he hadn't brought some, he would have had to kick that sucker's annoying face.

“Fuck me, for God's sake. How in the world has this happened? How is your teammate doing? Where is she?” Butcher questioned, gazing at Ben's bare chest, which was lightly dusty. Observing your absence, he patiently awaited a response.

“Fucking calm,” Ben said, rolling his eyes over Butcher's worried voice and giving him a wink. “She is in the bathroom, cleaning up.”

“And what did you two do here?” Butcher's hands brushed the wall, and he lingered around the gaps as he asked in a gruff manner.

Ben had already begun smoking weed, while Butcher continued to swear and talk about how bad the situation at the house was.

Butcher sat in the closest chair, his hands in his pockets. “This place smells like babymakers. I hope you're having a great time on your vacation, or should I say 'honeymoon.'”

Ben sighed, “I will start to enjoy it when you bring some good, strong shit,” as Butcher gave him one of his nasty smirks.

“Sorry, it's a bit hard to satisfy you, darling,” he smiled.

Ben murmured, “Fuck off,” and grabbed a drink out of one of the pockets while listening to you take a shower.

“Since you two won't be living here for very long, could you kindly do as you wish as humans without ruining the house? How in the world am I expected to pay for that?”

Ben growled, puffing on a joint and flexing his big muscles. “Do I look like I give a fuck? When I call you, answer the phone and get the fuck out of here already.”

“Don't call me every second like we are lovers,” Butcher teased him, grinning. “I have too many people to look after.”

Ben started cursing Butcher, telling him to choke on sucking Hughie's balls.

You finished your shower, put whatever you found in the wardrobe, and stood in front of the window to take in some fresh air while thinking back on the half-hour training session you had with Ben. Listening to him while he fired Butcher from the house, you acknowledged that there was an obvious difference between your training in the past and the present and that you had become weaker. You witnessed how perplexed Ben was when he realized it as well.

You made an effort to remember everything, including whether the scientists had altered your genetic code or, worse, restored your full potential, but you were unable to recall your memory. Would they not also do the same to Ben if it were possible? Or perhaps your body was not strong enough to withstand it.

You tried not to cry since you were anxious and frightened, but tears still came down your cheeks. At that time, it didn't matter if Ben heard you crying or not. He was, after all, the cause of everything that happened to you.

As you kept crying in front of the window, you heard Ben tapping on your door. He opened the door regardless of whether you hadn't told him to go inside.

“What's wrong?” Ben approached you and asked in a curious tone. “Is it because of the training?”

You never said anything; you just cried and nodded at him when he brought it up.

“Come on,” he murmured, gently brushing your arms. “You did quite well. It's only that your body requires time and rest because you haven't moved an inch in decades.”

Ben tried to calm you as much as he could, but he saw that you weren't feeling better and kept staring outside. He added, giving a compassionate smile to you, “You're still a badass; nothing has changed. You ruined the entire house by pushing me against the wall with such force. It's obvious that you're stressed out, which is why you're not feeling like in the old days.”

As he attempted to lighten the situation, you finally murmured, gazing into his green eyes through your weeping ones. “I couldn't lift up your shield.”

Ben's eyes softened seeing you open yourself up about your abilities. It had never been a problem before, and he had assumed that, in contrast to him, you weren't particularly obsessed with power or supe stuff.

“Even the other supes couldn't lift it.” He smiled at you and added, “Remember the TNT twins? They couldn't even lift it an inch when I ordered them to.” He hoped this would help ease your discomfort.

“No,” you murmured in between sobs, unable to stop yourself from crying and seeking the right words to express to him what precisely you were going through. “When you weren't around, I could lift it with ease and without even using a lot of force, but suddenly, today it felt heavy for the first time. There's a problem with me.”

You wanted to talk to him about how worried you were right then, even if you weren't sure why.

When you told Ben the truth, his face fell, and he gave you a warm embrace while massaging your back and wet hair, not sure how to respond. This time, you didn't ignore him and instead allowed him to comfort you.

He whispered, “I'm sure it's nothing serious,” as if he needed to reassure himself first. “Being a supe is not something you can suddenly stop being after decades. No one can take your powers from you.”

“We'll continue those trainings, so you'll improve, I promise. You're aware that you must work your body. You're pushing yourself too much and forgetting that I'm the baddest supe—the one you're training with.”

You questioned, as though he were somewhat knowledgeable, “What if I'm getting weaker or they have done something to me in the lab that I can't remember? Could it be a side effect of mine?”

Ben's mind was racing with possibilities as he gave you an even tighter hug. “You wouldn't even be a supe anymore, and they could have done the same to me already, if it was ever possible.” He put his chin on your head and wrapped his massive arms over your entire body, whispering, “Don't say or think of such things.”

You said, “I need to be able to defend myself. Without assistance from anyone at all, including you. What should I do if you are mistaken? How long would it take me to adjust to being a regular human when it took me years to become accustomed to being a supe?”

Ben wanted to reassure you that you were all safe with him, but he realized you didn't need to hear that just then.

Ben caressed your wet cheeks with his powerful hands and murmured, “I won't let that happen,” looking intensely into your eyes. You trusted him in that vulnerable moment because he seemed so sincere and confident. “I'll fix everything, and you'll be alright with me.”

Next Chapter

A/N: I don’t know why, but I suffered a lot writing this chapter.

Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

*Losing You series masterlist is here and here is my main masterlist.

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[phoward89]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3:

“You can't work here anymore, Y/N. You're fired.” You heard your boss, Doula Ada, tell you as soon as you said goodbye to Coryo (who was on morning patrol duty again) and entered the apothecary shop.

Your face fell. Fired?... “But why? I've been doing everything you've told me to.” You asked Doula Ada as she crushed up some herbs, to make a salve or remedy of some sort, with her mortar and pestle.

“With Belladonna's upcoming marriage to Juris, well, she needs to be working with me. I just don't have the room for two apprentices.”

“But I was the top of my class in the school and you said-” You began to protest, only for the older woman to shush you with a sharp-tongued, “I said I don't got no need for you anymore girl. Now go home or go find yourself a man to take care of ya.”

Taken aback by the herb woman’s brusque behavior, you quickly made your way to the door and exited the apothecary shop. Unknown to you, Coryo was waiting in the wind to swoop in and be your hero. To walk you home and be your shoulder to cry on.

Even though he's the reason you're fired and crying in the first place.

But to him that doesn't matter. It's just a small, minor detail that's not important. One that you'll never find out about, that's for sure.

Just as you were making your way down the cobblestone street, apothecary book tucked under you arm, a looming presence appeared by your side, towering over you. But by the long, lean shadow swallowing up yours, you knew it could only be Coryo. He is, after all, the tallest man you know.

“What's wrong, darling? Why're you leaving the apothecary shop after just arriving?” The platinum blonde peacekeeper asked.

Despite already knowing what was wrong, he wanted to seem like he was concerned about your plight. He was, after all, your man and a good man always takes time out of his busy schedule to check on his girl; to see what's wrong with her. He was just doing what any proper Capitol raised young gentleman would do, inquire about their special lady friend.

Looking up at your new friend, tears brimming your beautiful eyes, you told him, “Doula Ada fired me because she doesn't have room for both me and her daughter, Belladonna, to work at the shop.”

“Oh, my little dove, don't cry. It'll be alright.” Coryo assured you, as your tears began to fall, while pulling you into a hug.

And that embrace sure did make people stop and stare. The folks could understand a peacekeeper taking up with a merchant class girl while serving their 20 years in the district, but what they couldn't wrap their heads around was why a peacekeeper would lower themselves by getting involved with a Seam girl. People from the Seam were poor. So poor that they couldn't afford the second or in the word poor.

The Seam was considered the lowest of the low of District 12, the bottom of the barrel. So, a peacekeeper openly embracing a Seam girl and in the middle of the Merchant's Sector was considered taboo. A district blasphemy of sorts.

He kissed your forehead, causing the baker to nearly have a stroke from where she was peeking out of her shop window. And when he smiled wide and bright at you, the butcher nearly cut a finger off as he spied out his shop’s large front window.

“How ‘bout you help me with my patrol, darling? Walk with me for a bit, yeah?” Coryo suggested, craving a moment with you by his side. You're just so sweet, so kind, and he needs you- needs that around him. He wants to show you off to the entire district, let them see how he can cheer up his girl just by being by your side.

He truly was a bit off his rocker in love with you, but you had no clue about that. All you saw when you looked at him was the prettiest boy you've ever seen in your life, with a brilliant pearly white smile, who seems to go out of his way to befriend you. Something that you thought was sweet.

“I dunno, Coryo. I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

“You won't.” He quickly told you, wanting to chase away any fears you had of strolling around the Merchant Sector with him for a bit.

He really wanted to spend time with you, since he wouldn't be able to see you until he got a day off or his next weekend pass. Coriolanus felt that the more time he spent with you, the more in love the two of you would become. Yea…he was a bit of a clingy, stalkery, obsessive, possessive, delusional romantic. But at least he was a romantic, right?

Coriolanus hasn't seen you in 3 days, 3 damn days, and it's driving him crazy. The last time he saw you, you walked with him for a little bit while he was on patrol and it was heaven. You two talked and laughed about nothing and everything. But the best thing about that stroll was everyone in the Merchant's Sector saw the two of you together.

Something that made Coriolanus' possessive and obsessive tendencies towards you soar happily. He was proud to show you off as his girl; his future wife. He couldn't wait to dote on you; take care of you.

Coriolanus was raised that proper Capitol gentlemen take care of their women, support them and love them. That a good Capitol man spoils his girl; doesn't let her lift a finger. That a gentleman will keep his woman in the lap of luxury; will do all the work so that she doesn't have too. That all she does is have to worry about looking pretty, attending social events, and pleasing her man.

Of course, there's women in the Capitol that choose to have careers, but more women are socialites and housewives. And that's what Coriolanus plans to mold you into. His loving, kind, housewife; his little socialite that he'll spoil til the day he dies.

Only problem is that he's a peacekeeper grunt. His pay’s acceptable for a comfortable life in the backwater district of 12, but it's nothing to write home about. He knew that to properly take care of you; support you, that he needed to rise in the Peacekeeper ranks. That he needed to become an officer.

So, that's why he signed up to take the upcoming officers aptitude test. Coriolanus wanted to better himself not just for his need to get back to the Capitol, but also for his need to take care of you. He needed to be successful and have a good paycheck to take care of you the way you deserved. He wanted to spoil you, buy you your heart’s desires, and the only way to do that was with money.

Coriolanus was excited to tell you about his upcoming officers exam. He was hoping that the news would impress you; assure you that he's worthy of supporting you.

Talk about impressions, Coriolanus was currently buttoning up the jacket of his dress uniform as he stood in front of the small communal mirror in the barracks. Sejanus, his bunkmate and, for a lack of a better word, friend, just stared at him like he'd just lost his marbles.

Opening up his footlocker and grabbing a few bucks, Sejanus looked at Coryo, and asked, ��Why're you wearing that for, Coryo? We're about to go off base with weekend passes, shouldn't you be in your fatigues?”

Coriolanus walked over to his bunk, only to grab his hat and pick up a small sack. “I'm wearing my dress uniform, Sejanus, because I'm spending the weekend with my girl and I want to make a good first impression on her family.”

“Uh…I don't think Lucy Gray and the Covey care about that.” The District 2 born peacekeeper told his friend, watching as the man slung his sack over his shoulder.

“That songbird 's not my girl. My girl's a sweet little dove.” The platinum blonde remarked while placing his dress hat on his head, completing the dashing look his dress uniform gave off.

“Oh…but I thought you liked Lucy Gray?” Sejanus pried, holding his weekend pass in his hand while crossing the room with his friend.

“But I love Y/N; I'm going to make her my darling wife.”

Sejanus forced a smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes, as he patted Coryo on the shoulder. “That's good, Coryo.” In fact, the broad man didn't think it was good at all. He thought it was a bit concerning that his friend had waved off any and all feelings he had for a girl he risked everything to save, only to take up with an entirely different girl- declare intentions of love and marriage too.

Maybe Capitol born and bred people were just wired differently than different folks. Who knows. But Sejanus did know that all of his efforts looking for Lucy Gray were for nothing. At least he made some rebel contacts, some friends that supported a cause he believes in.

Bringing down Panem and the Games; having unity, justice, fair treatment, and human decency for all no matter if they're District or Capitol.

“I'd be honored to be your best man, when the time comes.” Sejanus told Coriolanus as they exited the barracks.

Like hell Coriolanus was going to have Sejanus stand up next to him as his first man. He didn't plan on having a lowly wedding in the districts, but a grand affair in the Capitol. His delusional Grandma’am would have a stroke if he had Sejanus Plinth as his best man. He supposed he can ask Festus Creed to be his best man, or maybe not even have one at all. Nothing says that he has to have one.

Coriolanus knows that you most likely won't have a maid of honor, unless he charms Clemmie into doing it. Eh, he'll worry about that whenever he's back in the Capitol, planning the wedding with you. At least he knows that Tigris will be more than happy to design your wedding dress.

But now's not the time to worry about that. First, he needs to meet your family and pass that officer's test.

The poor residents of the Seam were staring at Coriolanus with fearful and strange looks. It wasn't common to see a peacekeeper decked out in their dress uniform walking the streets of the Seam. No, the only time peacekeepers came to the Seam was to topple houses doing random checks to look for contraband and rebel literature, also to round up residents and cart them off to the prison on the base- never to be seen again until it was time to send them swinging on the hanging tree.

So…

Safe to say, residents of the Seam were both leery and mind blown at the sight of Coriolanus in their section, walking down the street as if he owned it. Both young and old alike silently prayed that the peacekeeper wouldn’t bother anyone.

If only they knew the real reason Coriolanus was in the Seam. Oh wait a minute, everybody in the Seam’s about to find out soon enough…

When Coriolanus reached your house, a large smile spread across his face. He couldn't wait to see you. He's gone too long without seeing your beautiful face, your kind smile.

Yea…

Three days is such an eternity…

Walking up the creaky wood rot porch and over to your front door, Coryo missed the neighbor girl, a songbird, exiting her house and seeing him. She saw his profile and instantly recognized him; was ready to call out to him, but stopped herself whenever you answered your door, causing the finely dressed peacekeeper to scoop you up into a hug and press a peck to your lips.

The little songbird shook her head, only to take off towards the meadow with her guitar in hand- she couldn't bear to watch the happy exchange between her neighbor and the Capitol boy turned peacekeeper- who she once thought was a good man.

Ashlie was making dough for a simple fry bread (all that your family could afford to make with the sorry excuse of grain that you're able to acquire) and you had just pulled a wildberry pie out of the oven, setting it on the windowsill to cool, whenever a loud knock sounded at the front door.

“Y/N, go get the door!” Your brother called out from his armchair, where he was already a jar and a half in of moonshine during his only day off.

You quickly went to the door and opened it, only to smile as you saw Coryo standing in front of you. He was dressed up in his formal uniform, sack slung over his shoulder and hand full of flowers (a small bouquet made up of a couple roses and some wildflowers native to District 12). Before you could even say hi or invite him in, Coryo pecked you on the lips (stunning you a bit) and wrapped you in a tight, but warm hug.

Resting his chin on top of your head, he confessed, “I missed you, my sweet darling girl.”

“You missed me? But it's only been 3 days since we saw each other.” You told him, finding it a bit odd that your new friend misses you so much after such a short period of time. Was that normal, or was that a Capitol thing? Or was it because he wanted more?

But you didn't want to give your hopes up. You just met; became friends the other day. Besides, a boy like Coryo Snow- pretty with his chiseled jaw, platinum blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes- always fancied themselves sweet on girls like Lucy Grey or Belladonna (the exotic Covey beauty and a flaxen haired merchant girl). Boys like him never gave girls like you, girls from the Seam, a second glance.

“Yea, 3 days too long.” He retorted, burying his nose into your hair to breathe in your scent. A scent that seemed to smell like fresh blooms and vanilla. Reluctantly pulling away from you, he offered you the small bouquet. “If we were in the Capitol, I would've made you a bouquet from the roses my Grandma’am grows in her rooftop garden.”

“These are nice, tho, Coryo.” You assured him with a kind smile while taking the offered flowers.

Coryo fell even more in love with you, watching you take the bouquet (which he felt was a pathetic thing compared to what he'd be able to give you in the Capitol) with a smile. His heart swelled as he watched you smell the flowers, your nose lingering at the couple of roses he demanded the florist stick into the bunch of wildflowers.

Yes, you'd flourish and grow in the Capitol. With his love and tender care, he'll turn you into a prized rose. His darling rose that everyone will envy, but only he has. A rose that he'll love; who'll love him in return.

Coryo knows that, sooner rather than later, he's going to gift you his mother's shawl and her compact. As a way to show his love and commitment to you. But also to mold you into what he knows you're meant to be.

His perfect, sweet, kind, darling rose. His wife who'll comfort him and love him during good times and bad. The mother of his children who'll sing to them and nurture them.

“I'm glad that you like them, darling, but you do deserve better flowers and, once I pass my officers exam, I'll be able to afford them for you.”

“You're taking an officer's exam? When, Coryo?”

“Next week.” Coriolanus proudly said, his baby blues shining with joy.

Before you could say another word or invite Coryo in, your older brother, Rein, appeared behind you with his half-empty jar of moonshine in his hand. Tipping his jar towards your ‘friend’ he asked in a deep grumble, “This officer bothering you, sis?”

“No, Rein.” You shook your head. Looking between your older brother and the blonde peacekeeper, you announced, “This is Coryo, a new friend of mine.”

Your brother's Seam grey eyes grew into the size of saucers. He looked between you, the flowers you were holding, Coryo, and the sack slung over his shoulder.

Coryo, wanting to make a good impression with his future brother-in-law, stuck his hand out for a handshake and politely said, “Sir, I'm Private Coriolanus Snow, of the esteemed Capitol Snow family. I'm scheduled to take the officer's aptitude test next week and, I assure you, my intentions with your sister are nothing, but honorable.”

Of course his intentions are honorable, the man wants to marry you. Take you back to the Capitol with him and fill you up with his babies. Oh, and not exactly in that order either. But, nevertheless, Coriolanus wants to make you Mrs. Snow; one day First Lady Snow.

Your brother looked at Coryo's large, calloused, outstretched hand and then turned his eyes up to his face. Rein had a mask of indifference painted on his dark, stubble coated face as he pointed his mason jar at Coryo and gruffly said, “Fuck you.”, before pivoting on his heel and storming back to his chair- all the while shouting, “My stupid fucking sister’s taking up with that dead General Crassus Snow’s fuckbag son, Ashie!”

You heard something break in the house and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Your sister-in-law (well, she was your brother's girlfriend, but same thing at this point since they've been together for so long) was so startled by your brother's outburst that she broke something the family can't afford to break. And your brother's reaction to your new friend was horrible.

The things he said…

Oh no, how embarrassing and cruel.

Frantically you apologized, afraid that Coryo would up and leave over your brother's nasty greeting, “Coryo, I'm so sorry for what Rein said. He shouldn't have said that, any of it.”

“Well, I admit, Y/N, that I was hoping to make a better impression on your brother, but I'm not going to let his little outburst chase me away from my darling girl.” Coriolanus told you, his attitude unwavering, as he placed his hands on your shoulders- gently rubbing them in a soothing manner.

Picking up on the phrase ‘my darling girl's, your brain suddenly put two and two together. Coryo wanted more than friendship, it seems. “Your girl, but I thought you just wanted to be friends?” You asked, just to make sure that your sudden revelation was right.

“I'm going to be a peacekeeper here for the next 20 years, Y/N. Of course, you're my girl. I don't want to be alone here, plus once I become an officer-” Coryo began to say, only for Ashlie to pop up and interrupt him with, “Um, can you two not discuss any future plans right now? Rein's upset enough as it is and, Y/N, I need you to help me with the dry bread.”

“Okay.” You sighed while at the same time Coriolanus said, “Like it or not, Ma’am, I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I'm staying here, in your home, with my darling rose for my weekend leave.”

“On the other hand, why don't you two talk a walk; go to the nearby meadow or something? Then you can meet up with me and Rein at the hob tonight.” Ashlie suggested, yanking the flowers out of your hand and ushering you out the door and slamming it shut behind you before either you or Coryo could say a word.

Well, looks like his plan to impress your family failed. But at least he impressed you, and really that's all the truly matters. As long as his lover's impressed then he couldn't give a flying fuck about the Halvir family. They could fuck off; go take a walk to the hanging tree for all he cared.

Coryo impressed you, made you smile with love and pride when you saw him in his uniform and, truly, that's the only thing that's important to him right now. That you view him as a hero.

Even tho in reality he's the anti-hero and your family knows it.

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[pirateprincessblog]

Cry For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

I make these to help you visualise! But you are free to imagine whatever you like :)

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (in progress...)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you promised your friend. you asked for forgiveness and gave a promise that you wouldn't even look her father's way. it isn't your fault that you suck at keeping promises. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader x khj 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: best friend's father seonghwa, seonghwa's business partner hongjoong, smut, angst, bits of fluff 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dacryphilia 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: had to include both of my biases :D

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

The pastry shop was flooded with people. It was Monday, which meant new specials were added to the menu. Your special Butcher of Blaviken piece of cake was long forgotten. You didn't even get a chance to taste the inviting red frosting. Oh, to be in the Witcher world now instead of being lectured by your friend. Henry Cavill would understand.

"You didn't think about it affecting us? You didn't fear about losing me as you did it?"

You're numb to the words. Her father fucked the thoughts out of you and you couldn't seem to feel any guilt in you. Yet, you didn't want to lose her. She was the only one who could keep up with your mood swings and random obsessions with movies and books that come and go. She was the only one that returned the energy you'd give her.

"Damn it, answer me! What the fuck were you thinking? How the fuck did you even manage to do it? He doesn't fuck anyone since mom left!"

People are staring, those sitting getting their chairs closer. Your friend is giving them a free show and they're willing to take it.

"I swear to God-"

"I wasn't thinking." You say, looking directly into her eyes.

"What?"

"I was not," you get closer, making sure not to break eye contact, "thinking."

"How the fuck did it happen? How did you convince him?"

The amount of the word fuck would even impress Geralt- well, you get it. I have an obsession with Henry Cavill. Little fourth wall break here. Okay, let's continue. No more, I promise.

Your calmness is angering her even more. She doesn't seem to understand how unaffected by all of this you are. You don't feel guilt simply because Mr Park agreed to all of it. In fact, you had already given up on your plan. He came to you and started it all over again.

"I was snooping around his library and he came, we hit it off and that's all you need to know."

"He came to you?" She laughs in disbelief.

"He came to the library, not me."

Frustrated, she groans and drops her head on the table. You glance at the cake, the chocolate Wolven sword on top of it as inviting as Mr Park in his unbuttoned shirt.

"Listen, I cannot undo what happened. Truthfully speaking, I wouldn't even if I could."

The girl raises her head, her angered look changing into the one of disappointment. You try putting yourself into her situation. You'd feel hurt, sure. But as long as it is a one-time thing, you're sure you'd get over it. It's not like Mr Park will declare his love to you and make you his new wife and her step mother. And that's what you tell her, causing her to calm down a bit.

"Didn't you make similar comments about Wren's dad? That you'd give him anything he'd ask for, if only he approached you?"

She seems offended that you remembered and mentioned that. Still, she remains calm. Her eyes are fixed behind you, concentrating on the moving line of people that are no longer interested in your conversation.

"It was just a one-time thing. It won't happen-"

"I miss mom."

And just like that, she breaks down. Your heart shatters when the first tear rolls down her cheek. After all, she is still her dad's little girl. And no matter what Mrs Park did, she was still her mother.

"Hey-"

"Just let me do what I need to do." She says, her voice trembling as words left her mouth. "I just need to let it out."

"You sure you want to do that here?" You ask, careful not to make her angry again.

She sits silent for a few moments. Her eyes are fixed on the traffic outside, a tear rolling down her cheeks every other moment. You've never seen her so helpless and vulnerable. She is always collected, calm, and usually the one to cheer people up. Now, when it's your turn, you don't know what to do.

"I could do it in a dressing room at Zara." She laughs, then sniffs. "Want to join me?"

And just how can you say no to her?

It is noon when you enter her house. Both of you are drowning in various bags full of clothes. She is an entirely different person than she was this morning. As if it didn't happen at all. You're watching her as she skillfully carries all her bags up the stairs and into her room. You almost trip and fall multiple times, yet you are determined to get there on your own, without any help. She laughs at you from the top of the stairs, then announces that she is going to take a shower.

You balance the bags in your hands, eyes glued to the marble stairs which shined brighter than diamonds under the expensive chandelier. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you put the items on the floor so you can correct your posture and crack your back. You hear a thump, then shuffling. With horror, you watch as two bags start rolling down the stairs. All of its contents are spilling on the way down, and all you can do is watch and hope they'll stop at some point.

But when they do, they stop in front of a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes stay fixed on the Victoria's Secret pink bag, somehow hoping that if you're not looking at him, he will disappear. Pale slender fingers come into sight, the pointer finger hooked under the handle of the bag. Your eyes follow as he raises it to his head level.

"I think you might've dropped something." He speaks first.

You're not sure what to say. Or do. So you continue to stand like a deer on a highway, your feet refusing to move. Since you're already staring, you take a few more moments to admire the changes on him. His hair is darker than the last time, and not as fluffy. His lips have a red tint, and you notice a slight shadow at the corners of his eyes. He is wearing a black turtleneck, paired with perfectly ironed pants and a belt. He is effortlessly perfect.

He chuckles, then bends over to pick up the items laying on the white tiles. Your legs and brain finally make a signal, and you are running down to yank the items away from him. Your movements are rushed and clumsy, and all the clothes are landing outside the bag instead of inside it. From the corner of your eyes, you realise that he has stopped helping. Instead, he is standing again, his attention now on something else.

You wish the ground could swallow you. A piece of fabric lays on his delicate fingers, thumb caressing the lace as a smirk forms on his tinted lips. He is holding your newest holiday edition lingerie set. It is as red as your cheeks right now, and if you didn't look away, you're sure your head would've exploded from embarrassment.

"Good deal on the set?"

You're not sure if he is trying to lighten the obviously awkward situation, or if he is making fun of you. After all, he is standing there, dripping in designer clothes and looking classier than you. Yet you're standing there, dripping in clumsy and tacky.

"I would never buy something so ugly for a full price." You manage to mumble, then reach for the fabric.

"Ugly? I don't think it's ugly." He pulls his hand away, "It's very... Well, it screams Christmas. And only ten dollars for a full set?"

Unable to read his expression and tone, you stay frozen. You feel so small in front of him. The tone is tugging towards mockery more than towards harmless joking, and you're not feeling comfortable. Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, your lip slightly trembling. You're a mess, standing in your scattered lingerie and paper bags, in front of your friend's hot father who isn't making you feel as good as last time you saw him.

"Can I please have my things back?" You manage to ask, voice cracking at the end.

His smile drops. The man takes a few moments to examine your body language, and once he realises what he has done, he puts the items in the bags. He takes his time to pick them up one by one, not once looking up at you.

Your sniffles echo through the room, and you're trying your best not to let the tears smear this little makeup you have left on your face. You still have to look a bit decent. Park Seonghwa is now holding the bags in front of you, patiently waiting for you to take them. You carefully soak in the tears with the sleeve of your top. Your eyes avoid his as you reach out to take your belongings. The slight brush of his cold fingers against yours has your stomach going on a rollercoaster. You remember how they felt against your lips as he touched you. You manage to look into his eyes, this time not looking away immediately. You wish to repeat the guilty pleasure. The way he looks down at you makes you want to drop on your knees and give him just what he deserves.

"That look is going to get us both into trouble again, kitten." He whispers.

Still focused on trying not to cry, you don't realise that you are pouting and looking at him through wet eyelashes. He gulps, then glances behind you. He then steps towards you, until you can feel his comforting warm breath on your face.

"That smeared mascara is giving me deja vu."

You immediately remember what he is referring to.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

So he gets off to smeared makeup. Ironic, since he always looks so neat and fresh. Not only him, but every area around him too. Your breath hitches as he brings his hand to your cheek, thumb ever so lightly grazing the skin where your tear had started the journey. He wipes it, then brings it over to his mouth. He closes his lips around the thumb, and you see his tongue peeking out a bit to lick the salty liquid off the tip. You are too taken aback by his action, and now you are the one to get a deja vu.

You stood like this in front of him the last time too, only this time, his fingers aren't in your mouth, but in his.

Maybe you spoke to soon, maybe he could read minds. You didn't know. You could only watch as he brings his thumb to caress your bottom lip, as if asking permission for entrance. You grant it to him, ready to give him anything he asks for.

Your core throbs at the way he sensualy massages your tongue with the finger. You allow yourself to get confident, swirling your tongue around it. He lets out a groan, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

"Don't give me that look, kitten. We can't."

You pull away from his hand, a string of saliva connecting your body parts making both of you feel dazed.

"Then stop fingerfucking my mouth, Sir." You say as politely as you can, tone low with lust.

Before you know it, Mr Park has you slammed against the wall, hands pressed firmly on your waist. You whimper when your back collides with the cold wall, but his actions are quick to distract you. His knee parts your legs, rising a little so that it makes contact with your crotch. You let out a sigh into his mouth, ready to give yourself to him. His fingers press into your cheeks, cupping your jaw so that you can't avoid his gaze. He is looking at you so intensely that you could cum right there on his thigh and knee. The smell of sandalwood and jasmine coming from his neck and chest area is not helping at all. It is inviting, and you don't want to be rude and decline an invitation.

"As much as I'd love nothing more than to fill you up with my cock against this wall right now, until you're staining my wall with your arousal, I'm going to need you to stay away from me."

The tower of fantasies you've slowly started to build suddenly crumbled down under his words. Emotions are erupting inside of you, lust and disappointment merging into each other and creating frustration and sadness. You are sexually frustrated, and this man has done nothing but worsen the situation.

"You'll leave me like this, Mr Park?"

He looks down on your lips, eyebrows furrowed as if thinking about which wire to cut.

Red — the powerful lust growing inside of him. The desire to have you crying under his touch from immense pleasure. The urge to abuse your clit with his tongue until he has you shaking in his arms.

Blue — the fragile relationship with his daughter. He just won her back, and making a fatal mistake like this could mean losing her forever.

Green — harmless flirting and teasing. Messing around and seeing you blush is something he just might get used to.

Park Seonghwa was also very sexually frustrated. But he was also a man with a reputation and half a family. He cannot bring himself to ruin either of the two.

"I want you on your best behaviour, kitten."

You look at him through your lashes again, this time on purpose. His fingers then pull at your hair, exposing your neck to him and causing you to whimper. He looks down at you, and you see yourself in his dilated pupils, drowning in the dark pools of lust.

"I mean it." He says, lips grazing your jaw as he speaks. "Be good for me."

And with that, he steps away from you, giving you one last head to toe checkup. He then turns around and makes his way to the library, leaving you flushed and a mess against the wall. You watch his back as he walks, noticing how huge his shoulders are and how slim his waist is. The things you'd do just to bite into any of those things. If you only had the courage and confidence to seduce him. You can only watch from afar, wishing that he would drop his guard and come to you.

It feels like that evening all over again; him making you yearn for him, then leaving you and disappearing into his space. The promises you gave to your friend are pushed back, and your brain has opened the path doe the thoughts you shouldn't be having. Yet, it's not breaking a promise if he is the one to come to you, is it?

You pick up the bags, this time not letting go of them until you've reached the room. You drop on the bed, face buried into the softest blankets you've ever touched in your life. Your clit is almost pulsating and burning from being all worked up. Touching yourself won't help. It's not the same. You've gotten a taste once, you'll never be able to do it the old way. Park Seonghwa is the only one who can help.

How dare he get so close to you, get you all worked up like that, then tell you to stay away? What kind of sick teasing and torture kinks is he into? Whatever it is, you have already fallen into his trap. You crave him, your body yearns to be touched by his fingers again. Every place on your body he touched on the stairs burns with sensation. You can only let out a frustrated groan before getting up and fixing your hair.

Your eyes examine the abnormally red cheeks and smeared mascara. You looked like you were fucked senseless, not just cornered by your friend's hot father. Although you wish he did the first.

"Professor Gellert gave me this stupid project that needs to be done by tomorrow. I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to— damn. Are you okay?"

The girl comes in while drying her hair with a towel, eyebrows scrunched with worry as she looks at your reflection in the mirror. Your back is turned towards her, and you're having a hard time looking into her eyes. How can you, when in your mind you're picturing Mr Park forcing your head onto his cock as tears run down your cheeks, just how he likes it?

"Are you sick?"

"The stairs killed me." You laugh it off, pointing at the bags.

"Oh, right." She brushes it off, then throws the wet towel into the basket near the bed. "Do you have a dress for the college celebration next week?"

"I'm not going." You say, remembering how many familiar people will show up.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to have a stomachache then."

You don't even have to look up to know that she is killing you with her stare. Both of you know that you will end up going, you just choose to throw a little tantrum before giving in.

"Your dance partner is so excited for you though."

"I forgot whose name I even pulled. Mind reminding me?"

To avoid having people without a pair, all people were supposed to pull out names. You know you weren't too thrilled about it, but you still can't remember who it was.

"Avan? No, he is with Vic. Oh, Joseph!"

"The Catholic boy?" You ask, now realising why you were so unimpressed.

"No, no, the hot Catholic boy. His hair grew since last summer and his teeth are like, super straight and white. He became the hottest thing to ever walk at that college."

A sigh leaves your lips at the realisation that more money will be reduced from your bank account. You can't go looking basic nor weird. People there aren't the nicest little dandelions, and you are very fragile when it comes to real life. You will need a proper dress, proper heels and equally good makeup. Luckily, you know just the person who will help.

Hours of goofing around, working on the project, and a warning to quiet down from Mr Park due to his business video chat, both of you are asleep. You'd lie if you were to say his stern voice didn't do things to you. He was so good at giving orders, and you are willing to take all of them. Both of you were in your matching satin sleeping dresses, laying on your stomach and watching funny moments of your favorite groups, laughing your heads off and making weird noises on purpose. It was a competition, each of you making a weirder and louder noise than the other. A few screams and laughing fits later, Mr Park Seonghwa knocked on the door. He came in calmly, eyeing up both of you.

"Girls, I have an important meeting and I'm trying to win an opportunity to keep our lives the way they are and not lose everything. Yet, here you are, sounding as if I've kidnapped you and am boiling you alive."

Your smile drops, but your friend remains the same. This tells you that him coming in to intervenire happens more often than you'd think. His usually soft and sparkly eyes are now sharp and serious, his eyebrow raised and his tinted lips going slightly downwards. He is still wearing the turtleneck, only this time he has added a grey coat resting on his shoulders.

"Sorry, dad."

His eyes shift to you, and silence swallows the room. You are taken aback by the intense gaze, and your friend nudges you with her elbow.

"S-sorry, da- Mr Park." You stutter, and your face heats up as soon as you finish the sentence. You wish to crawl out the window and disappear in the bushes. Maybe even cry yourself to sleep there.

Your mission is to seduce him, yet how can you succeed when all you do is embarrass yourself in front of him? He must've lost interest. You are convinced that he is your fantasy come to life, and you simply can't let go. You don't want to let go. Not until you get at least one more taste.

To your surprise, he only hums, then exits the room. You hear his footsteps in the distance, then a door being shut louder than usual.

"He's a real dick sometimes."

In the morning, you are awoken by your friend's raspy voice asking for period cramp pills. It takes you a few moments to adjust your eyes to the morning light.

"Where are they?" You mumble, mouth full of toothpaste.

"Your favorite place in this house." She laughs.

You peek outside the little bathroom to ask why she is laughing and what does she mean by that.

"Dad's office."

You roll your eyes, then return to brushing your teeth. Once you make sure to pick on your skin a little, then put on foundation so that your friend doesn't give you a lesson about it, you head outside.

"You'll see a few drawers below his fantasy section. There's all kinds of pills, just bring me the ones we usually use in these days of suffering."

As you approach the room of your favorite memories and dirty pleasures, you hear his voice coming from inside. It sounds lower than usual, and he sounds very professional. He is saying words even you've never heard of. In conclusion, he even talks expensive and sexy.

"Hongjoong, my marketing team is suffering because they took the most important elements from them. Half of the team quit when they heard who is trying to get involved."

You don't want to interrupt, but if you don't get those pills, you're going to be the first victim of the Hormonal Queen Park. You knock lightly, then slowly open the door.

You swear that if your toes didn't hit the wooden door frame as you tried going inside, you'd let out a moan. Mr Park is sitting in his usual chair, wearing a white shirt. It is halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You see a thin gold chain decorating his sun kissed skin on his neck. His lips are reddish as usual, and his hair isn't as neat as it was yesterday. His jaw rests in his hand, while his other hand is scribbling something on the papers at the corner of his desk.

He doesn't speak. Instead, he raises an eyebrow towards you. You point towards the drawer, then try showing him that you're looking for pills with your hands. He scoffs, then returns to his conversation. Still sleepy, you forget that you are still only wearing the satin lavender dress. It is when the morning cold breeze hits your legs that you realise. You're already here, there's no point in being embarrassed anymore.

Your eyes read the signs at the top of the bookcase. Adult fiction, Criminal, Erotica, Fiction, Horror... and Fantasy! Right behind his back.

Fuck.

Having no other choice, you get down on all four, and start crawling towards the drawers. Mr Park hasn't yet noticed your little mission. He is too frustrated with his ongoing problem to notice a half naked girl crawling on his office floor. You cheer inside your head as you successfully reach the drawers. You pull at the handle, but it doesn't budge.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You sigh, trying with all your strength. The drawer stays closed, and you're already ready to go home.

The only thing left to do is ask Mr Park, but you wouldn't dare to interrupt. Instead, you crawl to his side, careful not to be seen on camera. You're sitting near his leg, looking up at him while figuring out how to ask. You opt for the quietest solution, and you'll see where it gets you. With a quiet gulp and a sigh, you finally reach out towards him. Instead of quietly calling him like you intended, you gently poke his leg under the desk.

The man looks down, eyebrows scrunched with confusion. He almost chokes on his saliva when he sees you, then redirects his attention at the screen.

"Mr Park," you whisper.

"Hongjoong, I'm gonna have to pause the video for a second."

"That's fine, I'll just go through the mails one more time."

You hear a click, then silence. Mr Park grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You look like a treat, waiting to be picked up and consumed by him. The way your knees have a slight red tint have his mind racing with thoughts.

"Are you crazy?" His tone is calm and low. The grip on your jaw is firm, his fingers pressing into your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout.

He can't get over how big your pupils have gotten, and how well he can see your cleavage from that position. The sight of your breasts squished together by the shiny satin fabric combined with your pouty stare from the bottom aren't helping his situation at all. How can he hold back when you're sitting there like a present, waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed? He had countless comparisons, and hundreds of ways he could take care of you. If only he could.

"I just need some pills," you whisper, too mesmerised by his intense gaze to speak in normal voice.

"So you decide to crawl under my desk to ask for it?"

"I'm not—"

"Right, still nothing. I guess we really lost the proof."

The voice is coming from the screen again. A flash of disappointment crosses Park Seonghwa's face. Still, he leans back into his chair, hand still holding your jaw. His grip softens, and he proceeds to caress your cheek with his thumb. The simple action makes you almost purr. You don't remember the last time you got this kind of affection.

With your eyes closed, your body relaxes into his touch. Nothing exists anymore, except Mr Park, his scent and touch. You allow yourself a few moments of silence. The men's voices are becoming distant, and you swear that you could fall asleep just like this. You feel the slight roughness of his fingers, a sign that he aged like fine wine. You remember your father's hands being all rough and dark due to working hard jobs all these years. Seonghwa must've inherited family business. Or he knows how to take care of himself.

You look up at him, chin now resting on his knee. You aren't sure if you want to climb into his lap and take in all the affection he is willing to give you, or get down further under the desk and make him squirm in your hands. Deciding to test the waters, you drag your fingers up his leg, resting them just near his crotch. Mr Park wets his lips, glancing at you for a second. When you see no signs of complaining, you move over so that you're sitting comfortably between his legs. Your hands continue the journey to his belt, excitement rushing through your veins and into your heart as you feel the cold leather underneath your fingertips. You take your time to play with the buckle, just like you read in one of your favorite books.

Just like the man on the worn out pages of your book, Park Seonghwa gulps when you pull the zipper down, just enough to graze him with your nails. You're overflowing with confidence, and you're a little impatient too. But you want to take your time to take care of him. Make him yearn for you just like he did to you. As quietly as possible, you undo his pants, and are delighted when you find out he is wearing no underwear. You reach inside with your tongue, just enough to touch him and make him adjust in his chair.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Mr Park moves your hands, then pulls his cock out for you. One of his hands is holding onto your hair, gently pushing your head towards it. You don't have time to admire the size or all the little details you wanted. Your lips are pressing against his tip, the taste of precum sweet and salty at the same time.

He is impatient, and in desperate need to feel your hot mouth around him. You obey, finally taking him in and making sure to press your tongue flat against him. Unable to control it, he releases a groan.

"Hwa, you sure you're good?"

"I'm good, I just —" he pauses, looking down at you. How does he tell his business partner and best friend that his daughter's friend looks too good with her mouth stuffed like that? With her tits almost falling out and her pupils so big he just wants to slam his cock into her pussy and fuck her into oblivion?

"Just...? If you're not feeling good, we can continue later. I get this must be very hard for you, but —"

Just when you think you've won, Mr Park shakes his head. "No, no. That's fine. Remember how I told you my daughter wanted a kitten? Well, she's not letting me work in peace."

"Oh, that's adorable. Give her a few pets from me."

Park Seonghwa smirks, then looks down at you. His fingers caress your cheeks, and you melt at the touch. It is a motivation to take him in all the way, slamming the tip against the back of your throat.

"She's a very naughty kitten. I can't seem to get rid of her."

"See, no matter what they do, I'll never be a dog person. I love them so much. Just the sight of one makes me feel all fuzzy."

"Oh, just wait until you see this one."

You freeze in your spot. Seonghwa pulls your head away with a loud pop, and shoves his desk away to expose you. His thumb wipes your drool and his precum from your lips, then proceeds to pull you into his lap so that you're facing the screen. The man on the screen is as frozen as you, and as handsome and Mr Park. His gaze drops on your now exposed breasts, and you see his chest slowing down as he tries to breath normally again.

"A unique one, isn't she?" Seonghwa speaks first, holding your head in place by pulling your hair. You're forced to look at the man, and instead of feeling ashamed, you are only feeling more worked up. "I've never been a cat person, but this one is just so obedient I might actually keep her."

"Well, fuck me. That is one hell of a kitten."

"Come on, love. Why don't we show Hongjoong all the tricks I have taught you?"

You aren't sure what he means, until he lays you on his chest and spreads your legs. Your panties are so drenched, they're almost see through. The man on the screen is devouring you with his stare. Something about both of their gazes and confidence has lit a fire inside of you that cannot be put out. In the corner of the screen, you see your exposed and messy figure spread out on Mr Park's lap, and it only adds up to the atmosphere you are so enjoying.

"Actually, since Hongjoong has more experience with cats, how about he shows us how to perform a some tricks?"

You know he isn't asking, just giving you a trailer of what awaits you. A chuckle comes from the screen, and the man flashes his pearly white teeth at you through a smirk.

"First, you might want to tie her up. You don't want her running away, do you?"

Without hesitation, the man yanks his belt from his pants, and secures it around neck. You are having a hard time breathing. Not because of the belt, but because of the overwhelming feelings mixing inside of you. You've never been manhandled like this, and you are afraid that you might get too used to the feeling of Park Seonghwa doing this to you.

"You still have that wand?"

"Sure do."

Confusion takes over your features, and you can't help but wonder why Hongjoong knew that. Do they do this often? If so, are you just another toy Mr Park is going to play with and leave?

"Relax, kitten." Mr Park seems to notice your sudden discomfort. "Spread your legs for me."

And just like that night, your legs are over the armrests, the wand dangerously close to your clit.

"Having a good view, Kim?"

"A gorgeous one, Park."

Mr Kim leans back on his chair, hands working on his belt but not yet doing anything. It seems he enjoys watching more than doing anything. A sweet vibrating sensation spreads all over your folds, and you cannot help but buck your hips into the toy.

"Make your screen bigger, Seonghwa. So that she can see just how pretty she looks."

The man doesn't pull the gadget away as he changes the screen size, making Hongjoong's the one in the corner and yours taking over the screen. Now you can clearly see yourself; spread on Mr Park's lap, his chin resting on your shoulder, dark eyes looking at you through the camera. His ringed fingers are skillfully moving the toy up and down your clit, while his other hand holds onto the belt, lightly choking you.

"Doesn't moan easily, huh? Try circles."

Mr Park listens, circling the swollen bud with consistent vibrations. You feel like you're going to cum any second, and you don't want to do that so soon.

"Feel good?"

"Yes," you breathe out, holding onto the fabric of his pants as you try your best not to go over the edge.

"Then let us hear it, doll."

No matter how good it felt, it wasn't enough to draw moans from you. "You have to try better than that, then."

A scoff leaves his tinted lips. He brings them close to your neck, just enough to lick a stripe up to your jaw.

"Use your other hand, too."

Mr Kim is so skilled with giving orders. And Mr Park is so good at listening to him. His fingers, which are the prettiest ones you've ever seen in your life, move your panties aside just to slowly thrust between your walls. He explores, wiggling his two fingers inside until he curls them up. With the elbow of the hand which holds the toy, he presses into your lower stomach, making the feeling more intense than ever. He starts pumping into you slow, matching the rhythm of the vibrations.

"I've never seen such an obedient kitten. Look how good she is doing."

"Indeed, she is doing so well. Now, if she could orgasm on my fingers, she would be the best."

"Ngh—" you groan, chasing the orgasm just like he asked you to. You know you can't handle two, but you're willing to try for him. Well, them.

"Come on, pretty girl."

"S-sir—" you cry out, ready to spill over, "I can't—"

"Can't what?" He slows down, moving the wand away for a moment. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You feel all wet and sticky, but look hotter than ever. You're still unused by him, yet you looked like he has ravished you twice today.

"If I cum now, it'll be too much." You admit, pupils big as you look at him. "I want to cum when you fuck me."

"Spoke too soon about obedience, huh?"

The wicked smirk on the screen lets you know that they won't let you off so easily. Mr Park then slams his lips onto yours, sucking and licking at the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he brings the wand back to your clit. You shake in his lap, feeling a tad bit overstimulated. His other hand holds your thighs separated, but you still try to close them. The warm muscle of his tongue massages yours, and for a moment, you forget about Mr Kim. You forget about your best friend. You wish to wake up like this every day, admired, praised and consumed by him. Your hands reach into his hair, grabbing at the fluffy strands and anything else they can reach.

"That's so fucking hot. I didn't know how sexy you make out, Hwa."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, and in that moment, you wished to experience it every day. You wished this wasn't just messing around with your friend's dad. Your feelings for him are growing, and you know them well it's forbidden. But how to tell a heart no?

"You're welcome to come over and try these days," he winks at the screen, then shifts his attention back to you. "And just what do we do with you now? Do I make you cum and stop the fun?"

His thumb caresses your flushed cheek. You have a hard time forming a sentence, and all you can do is breathe into his mouth and look at him. His tongue peeks to wet his lips, doing the same to yours in the process.

"You'd rather shamelessly drip all over my pants like this? You just want my daughter to find out?"

Come to think of it, it's weird that she didn't notice your absence. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she went back to sleep. Whatever it is, you've made it clear to her that this is nothing more than just messing around. No romance involved. Even though your heart feels tight at the last sentence, you pretend like it's nothing. All those things you've thought about while touching yourself late at night are coming to life, and you won't try to stop that in any way.

"Mr Park?"

He hums, fingers fixing your hair and eyes scanning your face with adoration. "Yes, pretty girl?"

"Please fuck me."

"When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?" He says with a chuckle, then glances at the screen.

Mr Kim is sat still, looking at everything unfolding in front of him as if he's watching a movie. Or a porn video. His attention is fixed on your breasts, and you allow yourself another moment of confidence. You cup them, rubbing your nipples and squeezing the soft flesh while throwing your head back.

Mr Kim clicks his tongue, then gets closer to the screen. He rests his elbows on the desk, and his head on his hands. "Hwa, give her a little treat from me."

The older man doesn't waste a single second before licking a stripe over your breast. He wraps his lips around your bud of nerves, then proceeds to work his tongue around it. You're squirming in his lap, accidentally stroking him while doing so. He hums into you, the vibrations making you let out the first moan.

"There it is."

You feel so close, but you're too far. Your body is limp, and he hasn't even had you the way he promised yet. As if he could hear your thoughts, Mr Park hooks his fingers under your panties. He grazes over your clit, then pulls the panties down your legs.

"Let's pull a real trick now, kitten."

The man adjusts your body on his lap with ease, and you're too mesmerised by his strength to notice that his cock is at your entrance. It is when he lightly slaps your clit and pulls the belt on your neck that you give him attention.

"Eyes on Hongjoong."

You try to protest, but he grabs your jaw and inserts a finger into your mouth. Your head is now stuck in one position, and you can't avoid Mr Kim's gaze. He has a wicked grin on his face again, and just when you're about to make a stupid remark, Park Seonghwa slowly lifts his hips to enter you. He deliciously fills you up, leaving no space at all. His hot skin is grazing your walls just right, but not yet hitting the spot you need the most.

"Fuck—" he hisses, keeping the slow motions going.

You glance at the corner of the screen, seeing Mr Kim now palming himself through his pants. "You've gotta tell me where you buy these kittens, man."

The man behind you laughs between the moans, but doesn't say anything. He enjoys it as much as you, and isn't bothered to keep any conversations or teasing going. At least you hope so.

He lifts your body up, then moves his hips upwards so that he can move faster. Watching yourself get fucked on the screen by a man your dad's age, while another one watches wasn't quite in your fantasy list. But fuck, you're so happy that it's happening. Your eyes follow Mr Park's cock as it smoothly disappears inside of you, causing you to whine and moan in his arms.

"Think you've teased her enough?"

"Just a bit more." The man whispers, head falling back on the chair and his moves getting sloppy. "Fuck, love, you're gonna make me cum so quick."

You feel like you're dripping all over the place. His cock is soaking up your juices, making wet noises in the process. That, along with his skin hitting yours as he reaches the deepest ends of you, is what will keep you fueled for months. You glance at him through the screen, and you almost cream right there on his cock. Something about fucking in clothes is a huge turn on for you, and seeing Park Seonghwa sprawled out on his chair, with his unbuttoned white shirt and pretty gold jewellery, with his head resting back and eyes rolling from pleasure, with his fingers digging into your skin and hair sticking to his forehead, makes your head spin. You wish to take a picture, and look at it every night just to admire him. His sun kissed chest is exposed more than when you entered the room, and you wish to mark him up so bad. Hopefully, next time.

His hips are going at a slow pace, but deeper than last time. He reaches to all the places inside of you, stroking them all just right. He lifts your body, just to slam it down on his cock and hit your most sensitive spot. A loud moan is halfway out your lips, but he is quick to pull the belt to keep you quiet. He repeats the movements, this time faster and harder.

"Oh, baby," he almost growls under his breath, "making daddy feel so good."

Then, as if something has snapped inside of him, he pushes the chair back and lets it fall back with a thud. His hands push your body down onto the desk, and he grabs your waist like his life depends on it. He adjusts the camera so that Mr Kim can get a clear view of your drooling and flushed face, along with Mr Park's lower body continuously slamming into you. You feel so sensitive, and you haven't orgasmed once yet. Tears form at the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall. You're not sure if you're crying from pleasure or pain, but you didn't want either to stop.

And Park Seonghwa fucking adored it. He adored your face decorated with tears as he took you from behind, forcing you to watch yourself on camera while another stranger is watching you.

"Wish you could see how well you're taking me." He groans. "So fucking good for me."

"Is she taking it like a good girl, Hwa?"

"Oh, she's doing such a good job. Aren't you, love?" He says with a smirk, knowing that you're incapable of speaking.

Your eyes roll back, and you feel like you're going to evaporate. His consistent thrusts are helping you build up the orgasm, and you just know that you're going to cum harder than ever.

"You're fucking her dumb."

"I know. Look at her." Mr Park pulls the belt so that you can lift your head from the desk. Your lips are dry, and you can barely see anymore. Everything is blurry, and you feel nothing but endless pleasure. "Loves being thrown around and used until she cries. Don't you?"

You manage to nod, but quickly go back to moaning and almost drooling all over his desk and keyboard. His hand sneaks towards your clit, toying with it in circles until he has you screaming and almost growling. He is abusing all the sensitive buds on your body he can reach, from you G spot and your clit, to both of your nipples.

"Talk to her, Hwa. Make her speak even though she obviously can't. Make her cry and beg for you."

"Hear that, pretty one? Talk to me. Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?"

You want to kill Mr Kim for giving him the idea of making you talk. All you want to do is cum already. All this teasing is doing you no good. It's becoming addictive, and you just know this won't be the last time.

"Y-you, Sir." You choke out, body still rocking into his.

"Will you take all of my seed like a good girl you are?"

"Fuck, yes, yes, yes—"

"Will you fuck yourself on my cock until you've creamed all over it?"

"Yes, oh fuck, yes—" you groan, moving your hips back so you can fuck yourself on his cock just like he asked you to.

You look at his figure through the screen. His gaze is fixed on the way your tight walls are swallowing him up, and he seems completely mesmerised by it. You use him as you'd use one of those dildos you have saved on a Web shop, milking him just right. His moans are low and the hottest thing you've ever heard in your life. With each minute that passes, his voice becomes lower and much more of a whisper.

His eyes search for yours, and once you lock your gaze with his, you don't let go. You let him fuck you into the desk, with a whole stranger watching. Tears roll down your face, pleasure too intense to take. You groan, moan and whine at each thrust, trying your best to chase your orgasm.

Seeing that you're struggling, he picks you up, only to throw you against the bookshelf. He lifts your leg up, almost resting it on his shoulder. The new angle has you reaching new notes, and he has to stick his fingers into your mouth to keep your noises muffled.

"How cute. Fucking her against the Erotica section."

The shelves shake as Park Seonghwa slams into you, each thrust abusing your G spot so good that you're drooling around his fingers.

"Come on, kitten. Cum on daddy's cock. Milk me dry."

You moan around his fingers, and he takes that as a signal that you're close. He replaces the fingers with his lips, tongue searching for yours only to caress it in the most sensual way ever.

"You close, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes—"

"Come on, just a bit more. Almost there—"

"Fuck, oh fuck, yes—" Your head falls on his shoulder, hands holding onto them for dear life.

"I'm cumming, love, I'm gonna—" his breathing is heavy, and his moans are now getting high pitched," fuck, oh God, baby—"

You squeeze around him, riding out your orgasm as he paints your walls with his seed. You're weak in his arms as he uses you until the end, making you milk him dry just like he asked. He thrusts into you a few more times, slower and more gentle than ever.

His fingers cup your jaw, lifting your head up so that he can look at you. He wipes your tears with his thumb, then inserts it into his mouth. You can't help but laugh at his wicked kink. He isn't moving away from you. Instead, his lips mold into yours softly. He caresses your cheek as he gently sucks on your lip, occasionally grazing it with his tongue.

"Ah, the aftercare. The best part, honestly."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss for the second time that day, making your heart flutter. "Liar," he mumbles.

He pulls away for a moment, eyes searching your face for any sings of discomfort. When he sees none, he rewards you with another kiss, a kiss so light and comforting that for a second, you really thought he could want something more than just fooling around. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer towards you and deepening the kiss. You're mesmerised by the way he kisses. His scent is all over your body, and his tongue is taking care of yours in ways nobody ever knew.

This time you're the one to pull away, trying to catch some air. He rests his forehead on yours, his heavy breathing comforting on your face.

"I think I'm addicted to you."

You're taken aback by his statement. You're unable to move, or say anything. All you can do is watch as his face turns from calm and content to one of worry and fear.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Only sexually?"

Now he is the one who is taken aback. He didn't quite think about it. Sure, he can't wait to see you. He always checks if you're coming in the house with his daughter. He loves seeing you in your bubble when you eat or speak about your newest fandom.

Ah, shit.

"Let's start differently."

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The man licks his lips, then sighs. "How does dinner this Saturday sound?"

A laugh escapes your lips, and he follows right after. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, then finally speak.

"That's quite formal for someone who is still balls deep inside of me."

A moan of surprise leaves your body as he thrusts into you, more teasingly than sexually. He then proceeds to pull out, making his seed drip down your legs and onto the carpet.

"Want me to try again now?"

"Not necessary," you finally put your leg down from his shoulder, muscles sore from the new position, "I accept the invitation, Mr Park."

He hums, not bothering to correct your addressing. You were hoping you'd get to call him by his first name. Maybe it's too early. Still, it doesn't stop you from constantly thinking about it.

Seonghwa.

How pretty.

♡

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬:

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @seokjins-condoms  @variety-is-the-joy-of-life  @rkivesofmymemories @ateezzseonghwaa @bangmechann  @dandelion-aj  @rialovesyunho  @ryleleee  @anoooon13

[ceoofhelaegon]

Otto sucks. Alicent sucks. They calling Jaehaerys "that child" and trying to use him as tool. Only Aegon and Helaena cares about his son's death

Otto angrier at Aegon for hanging some ratcatchers but not Aemond who killed his nephew starting a bloody war is baffling. Even just last episode Otto was sympathetic to Aemond after he killed Luke and giving Alicent shade over not letting him send Kingsguards after Rhaenyra. Now this episode he apparently relearned how to care about the optics enough again, and gives more of a shit about some rat catchers than the death of his own great-grandson.

Nonnies, I will have to rinse Otto and Alicent here.

I used to be ride or die for Alicent and even used to defend Otto against people that said he didn't care about his family, but it seems that they were right.

The absolute 180 Otto did about optics, was infuriating. And I have no idea why the WHOLE of Kingslanding would turn against Aegon? I can see the families, but the Prince was brutally murdered?! People don't forget that easily, they SAW his little body, and that scene was so sad.

That was absolutely disgusting, Aegon was correct, they shouldn't do the funeral. Both mother and father didn't want this, but they used Aegon's grief and pain to manipulate him into doing what they wanted and the fact that Alicent only interjected when Otto said that Alicent would be there as well? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

The fact that this was the first time we've seen Helaena voicing her opinion and go against something, she is not listened to and has to do something completely out of her comfort zone.

And then, after all of this shit show Otto has the AUDACITY to say that Viserys was good king?! EXCUSE ME?! Do you mean the absolute waste of oxygen that was the reason WE ARE ALL IN THIS MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE?! I cheered when he was fired.

Using Aegon's most vulnerable weak spot, after his dead son, to say that Viserys was right about Aegon?! RIGHT ABOUT WHAT?! Did Viserys even acknowledge Aegon besides when he was a baby? He was right about Aegon not existing?!

Otto was a straight up psychopath this episode and I have no idea if I will like his character again, I will enjoy seeing him because Rhys Ifans is great, but other than that? Nope, to the bin with Otto.

Oh, and my girl Helaena...suffering so much and has to listen to her mother talking about having sex?! Literally NO ONE cares, I have no idea what they are doing with Alicent this season but I am not liking it.

And now to the worse scene I have seen, Alicent leaving Aegon whilst he is breaking down about his son being butchered in his bed. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! And I cannot take the 'she never got it from her father, that is why she can't do it' excuse because she CAN comfort Helaena, she CAN comfort Aemond as we've seen before, and Otto did try to comfort her, he puts his hands on her shoulders and SHE rejects him. So she IS capable of comforting people just not Aegon?

Surprisingly, Criston is the least bad of the bunch. He wasn't responsible for Helaena and the children and the WHOLE FLOOR having absolutely NO ONE, not even a maid is a plot hole, it doesn't matter what the writers say. As Aegon said, at least Criston has acted, even if it wasn't the best plan in the world, but it almost worked?

OH MY GOD, I JUST REMEMBERED.

Otto acting holier than thou about the plan, when his dumbass didn't ask Westerling to do the EXACT SAME THING?! The HYPOCRISY?!

Yeah, but we need to get helaegon and Jaehaera away from this whole mess, let them grieve in peace and have Maelor.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

(CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE BOOK ‘FIRE & BLOOD’ + HOTD S2 AND S3)

GEORGE R.R. MARTIN reflects on the first two episodes of ‘house of the dragon’ s2: blood & cheese and maelor the missing.

those were terrific episodes.

“Well written, well directed, powerfully acted.”

“A great way to kick off the new season.”

“Fans and critics alike seemed to agree.”

“There was only one aspect of the episodes that drew significant criticism: the handling of Blood and Cheese, and the death of Prince Jaehaerys.”

in the book ‘fire & blood.’

“Aegon and Helaena have three children, not two.”

“The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are six years old.”

“They have a younger brother, Maelor, who is two.”

“When Blood and Cheese break in on Helaena and the kids, they tell her they are debt collectors come to exact revenge for the death of Prince Lucerys: a son for a son.”

“As Helaena has two sons, however, they demand that she choose which one should die.”

“She resists and offers her own life instead, but the killers insist it has to be a son.”

“If she does not name one, they will kill all three of the children.”

“To save the life of the twins, Helaena names Maelor.”

“But Blood kills the older boy, Jaehaerys, instead, while Cheese tells little Maelor that his mother wanted him dead (Whether the boy is old enough to understand that is not at all certain).”

“It is a bloody, brutal scene, no doubt.”

“How not? An innocent child is being butchered in front of his mother.”

“I still believe the scene in the book is stronger.”

“The readers have the right of that.”

“The two killers are crueler in the book.”

“I thought the actors who played the killers on the show were excellent … but the characters are crueler, harder, and more frightening in FIRE & BLOOD.”

in the show ‘house of the dragon.’

“Blood is a gold cloak.”

“In the book, he is a former gold cloak, stripped of his office for beating a woman to death.”

“Book! Blood is the sort of man who might think making a woman choose which of her sons should die is amusing, especially when they double down on the wanton cruelty by murdering the boy she tries to save.”

“Book! Cheese is worse too; he does not kick a dog, true, but he does not have a dog, and he’s the one who tells Maelor that his mom wants him head.”

“I would also suggest that Helaena shows more courage, more strength in the book, by offering her own own life to save her son.”

“Offering a piece of jewelry is just not the same.”

“As I saw it, the ‘Sophie’s Choice’ aspect was the strongest part of the sequence, the darkest, the most visceral.”

“I hated to lose that.”

“And judging from the comments on line, most of the fans seemed to agree.”

on ryan condal's decision to make changes to blood and cheese.

“When Ryan Condal first told me what he meant to do, ages ago (back in 2022, might be).”

“I argued against it, for all these reasons.”

“I did not argue long, or with much heat, however.”

“The change weakened the sequence, I felt, but only a bit.”

“And Ryan had what seemed to be practical reasons for it; they did not want to deal with casting another child, especially a two-year old toddler.”

“Kids that young will inevitably slow down production, and there would be budget implications.”

“Budget was already an issue on HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, it made sense to save money wherever we could.”

“Moreover, Ryan assured me that we were not losing Prince Maelor, simply postponing him.”

“Queen Helaena could still give birth to him in season three, presumably after getting with child late in season two.”

“That made sense to me, so I withdrew my objections and acquiesced to the change.”

“if you have never read FIRE & BLOOD, maybe it does not matter, because all i am going to ‘spoil’ here are things that happen in the book that may NEVER happen on the series. starting with maelor himself.”

“Sometime between the initial decision to remove Maelor, a big change was made.”

“The prince’s birth was no longer just going to be pushed back to season 3.”

“He was never going to be born at all.”

“The younger son of Aegon and Helaena would never appear.”

the butterfly effect.

“Maelor is a two year old toddler in FIRE & BLOOD, but like our butterfly he has an impact on the story all out of proportion to his size.”

“The readers among you may recall that when it appears that Rhaenyra and her blacks are about to capture King’s Landing, Queen Alicent becomes concerned for the safety of Helaena’s remaining children, and takes steps to save them by smuggling them out of the city.”

“The task is given is two knights of the Kingsguard.”

“Ser Willis Fell is commanded to deliver Princess Jaehaera to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, while Maelor is given over to Ser Rickard Thorne to be escorted across the Mander to the protection of the Hightower army on its way to King’s Landing.”

“Willis Fell delivers Jaehaera safely to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, but Ser Rickard fares less well.”

“He and Maelor get as far as Bitterbridge, where he is revealed as a Kingsuard in a tavern called the Hogs Head.”

“Once discovered, Ser Rickard fights bravely to protect his young charge and bring him to safety, but he does not even make it across the bridge before some crossbows bring him down, Prince Maelor is torn from his arms.. and then, sadly, ripped to pieces by the mob fighting over the boy and the huge reward that Rhaenyra has offered for his capture and return.”

“Will any of that appear on the show?”

“Maybe… but I don’t see how.”

“The butterflies would seem to prohibit it.”

“You could perhaps make Ser Rickard’s ward be Jaehaera instead of Maelor, but Jaehaera can’t be killed, she has a huge role to play as Aegon’s next heir.”

“Could maybe make Maelor a newborn instead of a two year old, but that would scramble up the timeline, which is a bit of a mess already.”

“I have no idea what Ryan has planned — if indeed he has planned anything — but given Maelor’s absence from episode 2, the simplest way to proceed would be just to drop him entirely, lose the bit where Alicent tries to send the kids to safety, drop Rickard Thorne or send him with Willis Fell so Jaehaera has two guards.”

“From what I know, that seems to be what Ryan is doing here.”

“It’s simplest, yes, and may make sense in terms of budgets and shooting schedules.”

“But simpler is not better.”

“The Bitterbridge scene has tension, suspense, action, bloodshed, a bit of heroism and a lot of tragedy.”

“Rickard Thorne is a tertiary character at best, most viewers (as opposed to readers) will never know he is gone, since they never knew him at all… but I rather liked giving him his brief moment of heroism, a taste of the courage and loyalty of the Kingsguard, regardless of whether they are black or green.”

“The butterflies are not done with us yet, however.”

“In the book, when word of Prince Maelor’s death and the grisly manner of his passing (pp. 505) reaches the Red Keep, that proves to be the thing that drives Queen Helaena to suicide.”

“She could barely stand to look at Maelor, knowing that she chose him to die in the ‘Sophie’s Choice’ scene… and now he is dead in truth, her words having come true.”

“The grief and guilt are too much for her to bear.”

spoilers! hotd season 3 & 4.

“In Ryan’s outline for season 3, Helaena still kills herself… for no particular reason.”

“There is no fresh horror, no triggering event to overwhelm the fragile young queen.”

“And the final butterfly follows soon thereafter.”

“And there are larger and more toxic butterflies to come, if HOUSE OF THE DRAGON goes ahead with some of the changes being contemplated for seasons 3 and 4…”

book! death of helaena and rhaenyra.

“Queen Helaena, a sweet and gentle soul, is much beloved by the smallfolk of King’s Landing.”

“Rhaenyra was not, so when rumors began to arise that Helaena did not kill herself, but rather was murdered at Rhaenyra’s command, the commons are quick to believe them.”

“That night King’s Landing rose in bloody riot,” I wrote on p. 506 of FIRE & BLOOD.

“It is the beginning of the end for Rhaenyra’s rule over the city, ultimately leading to the Storming of the Dragonpit and the rise of the Shepherd’s mob that drives Rhaenyra to flee the city and return to Dragonstone… and her death.”

the butterfly effect of maelor's death.

“Maelor by himself means little.”

“He is a small child, does not have a line of dialogue, does nothing of consequence but die… but where and when and how, that does matter.”

“Losing Maelor weakened the end of the Blood and Cheese sequence, but it also cost us the Bitterbridge scene with all its horror and heroism, it undercut the motivation for Helaena’s suicide, and that in turn sent thousands into the streets and alleys, screaming for justice for their ‘murdered’ queen.”

“None of that is essential, I suppose… but all of it does serve a purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner.”

[sehtoast]

A Future For Three (Homelander x OC)

hurt/comfort, ambiguous s4 ending, relationship road bumps, ryan butcher, ben being the better parent, pathetic homelander, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Benjamin has done all he can to point Homelander in the right direction. Between plans for usurping power and parenthood, nothing has gone quite well. At least the bug will be there to help put out the fires.

Not even the crunch of rubble can pull his eyes away from the splotchy screen that spells out his failure in big, bold letters.

The silence between them is so very loud.  Louder than the ringing in his ears, louder than the news anchor’s dismayed voice as she reports Neuman’s death.  It’s only when those red, web-patterned shoes stop beside him that he dares flit his gaze anywhere else.  

Within a single day, he’d lost it all.  Ryan ran out on him, then Benjamin did the same… 

“You’re not being a father, you’re being a fuckin’ bully,” the bug had spat, fists clenched at his sides.  

He can still see the way they both looked at him.  Ryan’s eyes full of indignance, Ben’s full of heartbreak and disappointment.  The bug had bailed him out of his messes so many times now.  Talked to him about parenting, tried giving examples from his own upbringing on what to do and what to say, lectured him about patience and understanding.  But how?  

How can he do any of that when all the boy seems to want is a better father?

“It’s not a matter of dads,” Ben whispered to him so very long ago. “You’ve both taken care of him.  He’s got love for you both, but it’s not a competition, y’know?” 

But he never listened.  He never learned.

“Thought you wanted space… after…” he blurts, voice hoarse and thin. He gestures vaguely to the destroyed penthouse.  His eyes fall to the crumbled remains of Atlas.

It’s like looking in a mirror.

“I did, but…” Ben squats down, one hand snaking through his hair while the other lands atop his bent knee.  “I also told you I’d always take care of you.”

Homelander tugs Ryan’s book bag closer.

“Look at me, Johnny.” Ben whispers.

He hates the rimming of tears in his little spider’s eyes more than anything.  He put those there, didn’t he?  Took everything too far, was too cruel, said all those horrible things to rile up his fans… 

He barely registers the arms looping under his knees and around his back to lift him to the couch.  Benjamin murmurs something about him deserving better than sitting on the floor, but it sounds warped– messy and discombobulated as if they were underwater.  He lets Ben guide him, lets himself be coaxed to rest his head atop the bug’s lap and away from the sights of his failures.  He’d complain at the sound of his eagle epaulet puncturing the leather of the couch, but it was already destroyed anyway.

Just like everything else.

The tears start again.  The sobs quake, the shivers rattle him, and he gasps for air that simply won’t fill the void.  

“I’ve got you, pumpkin.”  Benjamin coos, fingers stroking through his hair.  “S’gonna be alright.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”  Homelander sputters.  Why can’t I do anything right?  

“Mm, a lot, honestly…”  The bug sighs, thumbing his cheek with a tenderness that conveys nothing but love behind such a devastating statement.  “But I’ll keep ya.” 

He hates the way that makes him cry harder.  He hates the way Ben holds him through it all.  It’d be so much easier if the bug would just throw him to the curb already.  Toss him aside, tear away one last shred of humanity from his used and abused heart.  One last anchor to remove him from that which he can never escape.

But it isn’t that simple.  It never will be.

By the time he’s devoid of any more tears, Benjamin still comforts him.  Still promises him an eternity.  Still shows him love.

“We’re gonna go down to my place, okay?”

“Why?”  He croaks.  His head throbs when he lifts it.

“I don’t want you sleeping in a big mess like this.  You deserve a little better than that.”  Benjamin pinches his cheek but the usual smile doesn’t spread across his face at the act.  Homelander’s drained.  He’s got nothing left inside but the hollowness of his own misery and the weak shimmer of hope sown by his little spider.

So he lets Ben carry him through the halls like some sort of wounded child who’d skinned their knees and couldn’t do it himself.  Not that there was anyone of consequence in the tower left to see it.  Not after he’d given the order to do away with them.

Another thing Benjamin begged him not to do.

He’s like a compliant mannequin as Ben strips him of his suit and all of the accompanying dust it’d gathered.  He expects to be kicked to the couch by the time he’s sporting just his briefs, but exile is not what fate has in store for him.  Instead, he gets to be tucked under fuzzy blankets and held close.  Benjamin’s breath kisses the nape of his neck and an arm slings over his midsection.

In his own arms, he still clings to Ryan’s bag.  He can’t take his eyes off the photo of him and his son that sits atop the nightstand.  He’s got the boy’s cheeks pinched between his gloved fingers, both of them smiling brightly.  In his hands, Ryan holds the carrier with their milkshakes.  He remembers the moment Ben took that photo.  How happy they all were…

“I texted him.” Ben murmurs.  “Let him know we’re here for when he gets back.”

He pulls the bag closer.

“Listen t’me.”

Homelander’s gut drops for the millionth time.  What could possibly be coming?  The end of their relationship?  Reprimands he can’t escape?  Will it hurt?

“We need to have a serious talk later about everything, okay?”

Oh god…

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, but I need– we got a lot to work on, y’know?”  

He thanks whatever god there may be for the clarification.

“And I need you to understand something.  I love you.  But that doesn’t mean you can hurt me all the time.”  Ben’s voice cracks with cries that threaten to spill. “I don’t ever wanna get to the point where I can’t come back to you.  I fuckin’ love you, but I’m scared you’re gonna push me too far away someday and I can’t–”

The arm around his body curls tighter.

“I can’t imagine anything else but you.  And I don’t want to.  I know you’re trying, and I know it’s hard and it’s all gone tits up these last few days– that this was all your dream, but please…” 

Ben’s face presses to his nape and he can feel the wetness of tears.  Those are his fault, too.  The pit of shame in his gut opens wider. The guilt grows stronger.

“Please save room for us in your dream.”

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ scenarios | dating negan

♡ fandoms; The Walking Dead

♡ characters; Negan Smith

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; explicit sexual content

♡ notes; in case anyone forgot i’m technically not a dedicated slasher blog

i put this in sections so i didn’t have to make more than one post lol . also these take place while he’s still the ruler of the saviors. i’ve been obsessed since his first episode oh my god that’s eight years of hyperfixation so that’s usually where my brain goes plot- wise

i’m thinking Billy Butcher is up next? lmk who else we wanna see, Garcia Flynn from Timeless is probably too niche? but i love him so so much

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

I. Kisses/PDA

> negan is an affectionate person

> with his wives it’s just for show- they’re hot, and he wants all his followers jealous of his lifestyle

> but with you, it’s different

> his wives don’t like him, per-se. he’s convenient to be married to and easy on the eyes, but they’re cold to him

> and he knows why, he doesn’t really give a shit. especially now that he has you.

> you may not be his spouse- you’re sure as fuck not letting him call you that without a ring- but he’s even more physical with you

> standing by him? hand on your back. sitting? you’re on his lap. look cold? he gives you his jacket and keeps you tucked under his arm

> “i just like takin’ care of you darlin’”

> and he loves kissing you in front of others- from little pecks to long, lingering kisses that makes other people look away

> he seems possessive, and he doesn’t mind people pointing it out

> it’s not that he doesn’t trust you- it’s never that

> he trusts most of his men too…maybe not simon. because simon loves staring at your ass

> but he’s proud. he’s proud you’re his, and he’s yours, and that he gets to show you off

> and like hell he ever lets anyone forget it

> alone he acts like keeping his hands off you is impossible

> he smacks your ass any time you lean over, pulls you into big bear hugs from behind and randomly pick you up

> he doesn’t ever want you to doubt his feelings for you, and physically is the easiest way for him to show it

> he’s very sexual, big shocker

> but his favorite kisses are sleepy kisses

> you wait late into the night when he’s due home from terrorizing his territories

> some part of you is afraid one day he won’t come home- so you always wait

> you’ll be exhausted, rubbing your eyes and yawning and usually wrapped up in a blanket

> but no matter how long he takes directing his men and double checking inventory and dealing with the dead

> “hey there, baby doll”

> you always run straight into his arms and bury your face in his chest. he’ll laugh and pick you up, kissing you gently before he carries you to bed

> most times he falls asleep on top of the covers with you, eager for the morning when he can make it up to you for being gone so long

II. Sharing a bed

> negan isn’t used to sharing a bed anymore

> the wives have their own rooms just down the hall, and so do you

> no reason for him not to give you at least a little space

> and having a room is the height of luxury in the sanctuary anyways. it’s a perk of dating the boss

> but you don’t know how to tell him you do want to share a bed, even though you’re barely apart when you’re awake

> so you just…don’t. you assume it’s a boundary he wants to keep and don’t mention it

> until the night terrors start up again

> you’ve seen a lot of people die a lot of different ways. most of them people you cared a lot about

> the memories always seem to come back in your dreams no matter how far back you push them

> when you’re woken up by one in the middle of a harsh storm, it’s just a bit too much

> you just can’t stop crying, and it’s loud and you need held. you need him.

> you creep as quietly as you can down the hall, and you hesitate at the door until the thunder crashes again

> when you stumble in he sits up fast with a knife in his fist

> then he gives a slightly annoyed sigh in recognition, relaxing

> “the hell are you doing?”

> “i just- um-“

> you can tell he notices the wobble in your voice and opens his arms up without another smart remark

> “hey, hey, i’ve gotcha..”

> he doesn’t ask questions- you don’t cry for nothing. and he gets nightmares too

> falling asleep in his arms feels natural…so natural it becomes a habit

> and he sleeps better with you too, curled around you and holding you so tight you think he might be worried you’ll disappear

> it’s less than a week before you stop using your bed altogether

III. Let’s get kinky

> he’s happy in pretty much any dominant role, whatever you call him is good enough for him- daddy, sir, master, etc

> and he likes when you call him whatever it is in front of his men

> the only chance of getting your dick/strap in him is if he power bottoms. but 95 percent of the time? you’re receiving and it’s big

> he likes being risky. he’ll take you out to visit settlements just to have an excuse to stop and fuck you in the car

> or even in a house there, just a room over from his men and gagging you with his fingers so you don’t get caught

> not that he’ll care if they catch you anyways

> he has a nice big office- half of the reason he uses it is so he can have you on his lap as a cockwarmer while he reads or looks over inventory numbers

> the other half is so you can suck his dick under the desk while he talks to simon or dwight

> (simon is a raging pervert so he definitely knows, too)

> he loves fucking your face, watching you get all teary eyed and drooling all over yourself from taking his massive cock

> “oh look at the fuckin’ mess you’re making!”

> he’s generous though- he loves reciprocating oral

> and he loves overstimulating you too- whether that’s by edging you for hours or just making you cum again and again and again

> he loves taking you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress and gripping your hips so hard they bruise

> but he also loves when you ride him slow, gasping quietly as he watches you fall apart completely for him

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 10: When a Friend Asks for Help

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: You ask your friends for help and they come running, no matter what else they’ve got going on in their lives.

Word count: 4,582

Content/warnings: Swears, kissing, being on edge for decks, nervousness throughout the atmosphere, fighting, mob themes, misogyny, kidnapping

Author’s Note: personally, I’m laughing at the fact that Bee is gonna say Decks is usually nice, considering if you read The Rainmaker, she doesn’t tend to be exceptionally warm around anyone but friends

Takes place at the same time as ch. 7 of The Rainmaker and ch. 3 of Handiwork

Thank you for reading, I’d love to hear your feedback!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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You stood in the gravel of your driveway on Saturday morning, shifting nervously between your feet as you waited for Steve to arrive. He had messaged you that he’d be coming this morning before Bucky and Decks. That was a little odd to you, but it made sense considering the phone call she’d left you with on Tuesday night after spending time with Steve. Decks was your obvious pick to beat Cole in the pool game, but letting her know the true stakes set off a bomb. From what you could tell, it was an explosion of anger and betrayal towards Steve, but she still stepped up and you were so grateful for that.

Following Cole’s threat and the bet you’d made last Saturday, the first person you’d called was Bucky. If anyone could help you fix it all, it was him. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and this all involved him just as much. Things were getting just as scary for him business-wise in the city, so you weren’t surprised that at your call for help, he insisted that he come to you right away to be by your side through the entire thing so you didn’t have to face it alone.

Curtis had just finished the morning round of farm chores, and not much else was going to really need done except a few sporadic tasks, thanks to Peter’s help, so your cousin came over and stood next to you in the driveway while Cherry and Peter sat behind you, chatting in the rocking chairs on the porch.

After everything, and with the necessity of this weekend going your way, you told Curtis the whole story: who Bucky, Steve, and Peter were, and why you were involved with them, letting him relay it to Cherry in the way he thought best. To your surprise, he took it well, giving you a nudge and a light punch to the shoulder, saying, “yeah. I figured. You always did your own thing like that. Plus, Bucky’s not exactly nonchalant.”

It was true, while you were pretty stand-up, you recalled your parents commonly making comments about how if you’ve made up your mind, there was no changing it, even if that decision wasn’t necessarily smart…or legal. It’s not like you’d gotten into trouble for it, though. You just liked to push the limit a little bit, just to the brink, and that was enough, but this time, it was what led you to this point, this very stressful, important, point, alongside Bucky.

Up until today, when you knew you’d finally have the company you desired, Curtis thought he had never seen you this sad, besides after Jake, but this was different. The first of two black SUVs showed up in your driveway, though, that all began to change. Steve was here, and you knew Bucky was on the way. You had a small smile on your face, greeting your friend with a hug, but Curtis simply gave him a nod, not sure what to do since Decks was such a good friend, and Steve seemed to have hurt her. A lot.

He decided to stay on the porch, waiting for Bucky and her to arrive while you, Peter, and Cherry took Steve inside to hash over a plan for the day.

You brought Steve in, the four of you sitting around the butcher block counter top of your kitchen island to figure out how to make the day go as smoothly as possible. For Decks to win, she needed the perfect conditions. You had to pull every trick out of the book to make sure this went the right way, and you were sure there were some things she wasn’t gonna like about it.

Bucky was driving her, and they got along fine, but that wasn’t something you could control right now, so you focused on what you could.

“Okay, so Bucky and Decks will be here in about an hour. Today, our priority is to give her everything she needs to be successful.”

You looked around at everyone else at the table, their eyes waiting for your next instruction. “Now, I know she’s been going through it, so she’s probably not eating much, but we need her well fed. Steve, is there anything I have that you can use, or anything you can do to fix that?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Buck’s got some breakfast for her. There’s this one pasta she really likes. I can have the chef up here to make it fresh before this afternoon.”

You nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Good. Now, there are a few different conditions that need to happen for Decks to play her best. She needs to be mad, but not too much, and also not sad. She needs to be a little annoyed, which I have no doubt will come with her being surrounded by a couple misogynistic douchebags, and she needs to be slightly uncomfortable. It keeps her just on edge enough that she doesn’t relax, causing her to slip up.” You held up your hands to show the levels of intensity you needed to maintain.

“Here’s the threshold, we need to keep her right there when the time comes, but before that, let’s keep her calm. So essentially, what I’m saying is we need to placate her until this afternoon when we’ll put her into a dress instead of the jeans she usually wears to the bar, just for tonight. Not only will it do the trick, but I think it’ll cause a distraction enough to put a few more odds in her favor. But really, when I think about it, this is all just an added bonus, because she’s probably mad at a few of us, including myself and Steve, but she hasn’t really shown it towards me that much yet.”

Everyone nodded along again before Cherry spoke up. “So how are we going about that? If you didn’t already ask her to bring a dress?”

You smiled over to your new friend. “That’s the thing, I was hoping you might have a good outfit in mind. Something cute, but not too revealing. Comfortable in fit, but not in style. Shorts underneath, of course.”

She smiled. “I think I have just the thing. But also, aren’t you a little worried to be doing this all in public? The bar will be busy tonight, I’m working, and I know they’re not gonna shut it down since it’s such short notice.”

You clicked your tongue, looking over at Steve to back you up. “Well I assume a public environment makes them less likely to pull anything over on us, plus Bucky is sending a bunch of guards. But I’d rather have several of witnesses if I get shot-“ you gasped, looking at everyone with wide, imploring eyes, “but don’t tell Decks that’s a possibility! Don’t even plant a thought like that in her mind. Keep her feeling safe, and angry, and confident if you can. She needs it, okay? And if you forget your role, just remember it’s whatever Decks tells you to do, alright?”

You were met by a collective “alright,” but then Peter raised his hand. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“Miss Bee, I’m just questioning, do we really want her angry at us? I mean, you just said, she’s been angry at Steve all week and we see how that turned out. He looks terrible.”

You watched as Steve threw his head back at the accidental insult. “Well, yeah, Pete. We don’t want her mad at us. We want her mad at the situation. Decks is actually really nice usually, but there’s a lot going on. We’ll use that to our advantage.”

Peter skeptically nodded as the sound of crunching gravel came through the screen door. A second SUV was pulling up.

You ran through the front door of the house, hearing a car door slam shut, and out from behind the black car emerged someone you hadn’t seen in far too long: Bucky. If you would’ve asked Curtis, he would’ve said it was as if the clouds parted when you ran to the mob boss.

You were sprinting almost, as much as your slippers would allow, as you reached Bucky, jumping up into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. His strong form was only slightly wavered from the force of you, and he squeezed you back just as tight, his words muffled into your hair.

“I missed you, my sweet honeybee.”

His words sent a warmth through you. You pulled back, planting a fat kiss on his lips, your hands moving to his cheeks to take in his gorgeous eyes and face, before remembering the precious cargo he was transporting. “Where’s Decks?”

He gently set you down, grabbing your hand and walking to the rear passenger door of the vehicle, opening it up. “She’s taking a nap against the other door, didn’t want to wake her and make her fall out.”

He looked over his shoulder, trying to find someone who he thought might have a gentle touch. “Ah! Peter, come here. Come gently wake up Decks, would you?”

Peter came down off the porch and crawled into the back seat, handing you back a bakery box that was sitting there as he climbed in. Bucky gave you a kiss on the forehead, saying he was going to take his stuff up to the room and you nodded. Cherry emerged next to you as you flipped open the lid to be greeted by a bunch of fancy French foods, unlike anything you could find around here. The two of you sifted through the box, until Peter, holding his nose, essentially sprinted from the car, speaking as he ran past you. “I thought you said she was nice.” Poor kid got punched by a spooked Decks.

He was promptly followed by by your best friend emerging from the vehicle and you greeted her sweetly. “Decks! Good morning! So great to see you!” She didn’t return your side hug, but it’s what you expected. After making her way down the line and seeing Steve, you watched as she stormed into the house, leaving her bag. Maybe she still needed a little time.

As morning turned to afternoon, you kept Bucky close, sitting with him on the couch, you in his lap, discussing what had gone on over the past month or so. You’d been attempting to have a private conversation, but were surprised when you began to hear other voices chiming in, unrequested.

Peter was speaking up from his spot at the island, Curtis through the screen door where he was sitting on the swing with Cherry on the porch, and Steve from his slumped spot next to you in the big recliner. It seemed as though no secrets were to be had, which might be a good thing after how that blew up for others.

But this time, it was just friends and family sharing little details that were probably better left alone. “Bucky climbed in my trunk because he was lonely.” “Bee hugged a sheep for extra long.” “Bucky wore the ugliest suit I’ve ever seen.” “Bee found his old shirt left behind.”

If you weren’t so happy to be close to Bucky right now, you would’ve been throwing side eyes all around, just like Decks was half the time, but you just couldn’t. What you could do, though, was make sure everyone was on task.

“Alright, alright. Steve, don’t you have an apartment to set up? Peter, don’t you have a couple farm chores to help Curtis with?”

They all playfully rolled their eyes at you, knowing there were important matters to tend to, and willfully following you, their boss for the day.

As mostly everyone scattered, that left Bucky and you, actually alone on the couch as he kissed at your neck. “I love seeing you in charge, Honey. It really does something to me.”

You pulled away and lightly smacked at his chest, not diminishing his grin one bit until you heard the screen door open and Cherry walked in. Right. She was still here.

“Oh, I’m sorry, y’all. Didn’t mean to ruin a moment.”

You just smiled. “Oh no, no. You’re all good. Make yourself at home, you know you can. We were just talking.”

You didn’t miss Bucky’s scowl at that, but laughed it off, calming him by scratching your fingers through his hair, causing him to close his eyes and lean into the touch. You received another scowl, though, when you stopped suddenly.

“I’m sure Mr. Boss man here has a few calls to make, anyway, right Buck?”

Bucky took in a deep breath and grumbled, pulling you off his lap and moving to a stand. “Yeah, yeah. You’re actually right, but what else is new? I’ll go double check the guard procedures.”

Laughing at the whole interaction after pouring herself a glass of sweet tea, Cherry went to sit on the couch, but before she touched down, she shot back up. “Actually, I’m not sure I want to sit there. I don’t know what the two of you have done on this couch.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh golly, no. Nothing has been done on this couch, and even if so, I’m sure it’s no worse than the surfaces of your apartment.”

She froze, opening her mouth like she had something to say, before conceding and sitting down. “I am not going to comment on that, but what I will say is Curtis told me last month that he walked in here after a day of chores to see clothes strewn everywhere. Just making sure the disarray of your house didn’t have any implications about the cleanliness of your couch.”

She winked at you, taking another sip of her tea as you groaned and threw your head in your hands. Even the short spurts of time she had spent around here on weekends had made her comfortable enough to pull your chain…but she wasn’t wrong either.

A little time for Decks to have for herself seemed to turn into a lot of time, as she didn’t come back for hours. You weren’t sure if you were the best bet to send up there. Peter was probably terrified, Curtis was out in the field, and Steve was likely the last person she wanted to see right now. Plus, Steve was away setting things up, so Cherry was probably your best bet. A wildcard. It would be good to test the waters, too, since the three of you were about to go to her apartment, anyway, so that was your choice.

It must’ve worked, though, because Cherry didn’t seem to have any issues when she came back down to meet you in the cab of your truck, besides mentioning how beaten down Decks looked, and I unfortunately comparing her to yourself over the past month.

“I gotta tell you, she’s not looking so hot. Like, I know I’ve only met her once, but she looks worse than you did the first week Bucky left.”

You rolled your eyes with a light scoff. “Cherry, I was not that bad. I was fine.”

She tilted her head to the side skeptically. “I feel like we’re good enough friends now that I can say you were miserable. Why do you think I came around so much? You needed someone, and I feel like Decks might, too, but she also seems to be shutting us all out.”

As much as you hated to say it, she was right. Cherry had come around on the weekends sometimes to chat as Curtis worked and you hadn’t realized how great it was to have a friend. You’d grown closer than expected over that time, but there was still a ways to go, which is why you made Curtis tell her about Bucky and everything instead of doing it yourself.

You sighed, drumming your fingertips against the wheel in thought. “Okay, okay, yeah. Whatever, you’re kinda right. Just…we’ll figure it out. Cater to her at your place if we can. Be around but not too clingy. Hopefully Steve got her some stuff she’ll like and she won’t throw it out the window knowing it came from him.”

Within twenty minutes, Decks was downstairs, meeting you at your truck, ready for the next thing. Hopefully this plan would work.

When you walked into the apartment, everything seemed perfect. Steve must have just left, because the pasta on the counter was still fresh and you could just barely see into the bedroom, where a special gift was. You knew how much Decks loved her music and how it pumped her up, so you hoped this could somewhat help, at least in this leg of the prep.

You quietly ate, speaking about nothing with Cherry, just to make sure there was some background noise, and trying to stay conscious that there was enough for Decks to eat and feel satisfied. You knew she liked pasta, it was a common dorm request of hers for dinner, but she was right. This was the best. Yours couldn’t hold a candle to it.

You and Cherry cleaned up dinner as quickly as you could, happy to hear a record start playing once you were halfway through rinsing the dishes. Man, Steve really did care to know her. This song was her favorite and she’d been searching for it on vinyl for forever.

Once the dishes were done, you could see it was getting close to time to go, so you and Cherry raced over, trying to find the perfect outfit for Decks. She looked great, beautiful as ever, and you could see how the music helped her demeanor, but all too soon, it was time to head out.

When you got to the bar, you could tell she was on edge again, but weren’t sure what more there was to do so you could help. You spotted Bucky immediately, happy to see him just for a second as you sat in his lap and gave him a peck.

“Hi Honeybee. I was just gonna go check on all the guards, make sure they’re in position. You wanna come with?”

You looked over to Decks sitting awkwardly next to Steve, Curtis having dashed away, and nodded. Maybe the time alone would help her sanity and if they could patch things up, Decks would be in a better headspace, so you grabbed Bucky’s hand and followed him out.

The guards were all in their place, but when you returned to the booth, no one was there. Curtis stood by the bar where you’d seen him go before, but Steve and Decks were nowhere to be found. Wherever they were, they were together, right? It would be fine. You were just mostly nervous because the time when Cole would show up with his match pick was coming up soon, and you weren’t sure how that was gonna go.

You stood with your back pressed up against Bucky’s chest, just slightly. It was professional enough for the serious tone of the moment, but still let the two of you ground yourselves.

Your eyes were on the door only for a moment when Cole walked in, followed by a man in a fancy knit shirt, with a well groomed, but still terrible mustache. Cole clocked you almost instantly, walking in your direction as Bucky leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“That’s Lloyd. You think that was Cole’s pick?”

You shrugged. It meant one of two things. Either Lloyd was great at pool, or Cole had no friends. Actually, it was very possible that it meant both of those things. Probably definitely the second one at least.

They approached, cocky as ever, Lloyd holding a case in his hand and setting it on the table closest to the two of you. He was the first to speak up.

“Bucky. How ya doin,’ soldier? Heard business is slow these days because you’re stuck in a honey trap.”

You watched as Lloyd looked you up and down, wetting his bottom lip.

“My, my. You are a sweet little peach. Better than Cole described you.”

You tried keeping your face level and sweet as always when dealing with these sorts of situations, but Bucky wasn’t as successful. Out if the corner of your eye, you could see the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clenched at his sides. You placed a hand on his forearm to partially calm him. Sure, this all had to do with him, but this wasn’t his battle. Not tonight.

Noticing the tension, Cole awkwardly spoke up. His confidence was nowhere and nothing in the presence of Lloyd now that you saw the two of them together.

“So, who’s starting? I assume it’s us because we’re the guests, right Peach?”

He didn’t even give you the chance to open your mouth and request a coin toss or a dice roll before he was calling over a waiter for a drink and Lloyd was sizing up the table. They each finished their respective tasks, and returned, standing in front of the two of you once again.

“So are one of you two rodeo clowns going to play me, or do you have a different choice?”

You fought the temptation to roll your eyes at Lloyd’s attempt of a degrading comment. Rodeo clowns aren’t that bad, but you were relieved to not dignify that comment with a response since something else caught their attention. You then watched their heads turn and you followed the lines of sight over your shoulder. Decks. She was strutting into the room, boots hitting the ground and skirt flouncing in the breeze, Steve just a few steps behind her. She hadn’t looked this confident all day, but you could tell, she was totally zoned in right now.

You introduced her to her competitors, but there were essentially no pleasantries. They each went to their respective places to grab their cues to start the game, Steve helping Decks and getting a water at the bar before coming to your side. Cole was at the other side of the table, Lloyd already moving around and taking his turn.

Bucky leaned in towards you to whisper. “Decks looks really focused right now. I think your plans are working.”

You nodded, not wanting to jinx anything, when Steve pitched in. “Yeah. I don’t think much else makes her angrier than a threat to Bee. That, and apparently lying.”

He looked to see if Decks had heard him at all, but she hadn’t, too focused on Lloyd’s every move. You laughed and nodded in agreement. “Definitely. But when she’s on it, she’s on it. And that’s what we need right now. If she can get a chance to have a turn, she’ll get him.”

The two men to the sides of you grunted in hopeful agreement. Bucky leaned in again, his hat brim brushing the top of your head. “If I’m being completely honest, to see her in that state kind of even scares me.”

You eyes grew wide as you turned towards him, as if to say ‘right?’ since for years, you felt like your were the only one who ever observed this side of her. As far as you knew, it was really only directed towards enemies and adversaries. Those she played in competitive card games or that one detective she hated at work.

“Yeah, how does that one song go? If you ever see Decks in a fight with a bear, help the bear?”

Steve scoffed slightly. “Yeah. That sounds accurate.”

You hummed in affirmation as you watched Lloyd sink another shot. He was just past halfway through and it seemed like he was on a roll. As he lined up another shot, you leaned towards Steve. “You, my friend, are unfortunately the bear right now. Well, actually I’d say you’re the secondary bear, and maybe the third depending on whether or not she counts Lloyd and Cole as a single entity.”

How you said it was funny, but this was no laughing matter. Just then, Lloyd took a shot, and he missed. You grabbed Bucky’s hand in shock and he squeezed it in return. Decks came over and took a sip of water out of Steve’s hand, chalking up her cue, ready to go. You watched as she effortlessly walked around, a scene you’d viewed so many times before, and took her first shot. It was perfect, followed by another one, and another one, and another one, until all that was left was the last ball.

She lined herself up, one leg propped up on the table, and Cole and Lloyd were still shamelessly checking her out like they had been the whole time. You made a note to make sure Bucky gave them hell for this disgusting perv behavior, but for now, the only thing you wanted to look at was Decks, too. When the cue made contact with the ball, she turned her head, looking into Lloyd’s eyes instead of the pocket when the eight ball was sunk. Cheeky girl. That was her signature move back in the day.

She stood up and set down her cue as you, Bucky, and Steve cheered for her, mostly internally, unlike the patrons that had gathered at the spectacular game, until you met her stride, stepping in front of Cole as Decks faced Lloyd. You expected this all to go smoothly, mob men were supposed to be men of their word, after all, but Lloyd’s response to Decks requesting he back off now scared you. It was condescending, threatening, and he didn’t seem to have any plan to back down.

You watched him obnoxiously gasp and throw a hand over his chest.

“Oh no. Where’d your precious cheese curd go?”

The four of you whipped your heads towards the bar, just so see no sign of Curtis in the stool he was occupying minutes ago. The next set of events happened so quickly you could hardly process it. Decks was screaming, flailing her arms and legs as Steve pulled her away. Bucky landed a solid right hook to Lloyd’s jaw and you swore you could’ve heard the bone crack. When Lloyd was on the floor, even though Cole had his hands up, claiming he didn’t do anything, Bucky grabbed Cole by the collar and you tried to slip out of the descending crowd that must’ve responded against the two men due to Decks’ cries and screams. People around here didn’t take kindly to the apparent mistreatment of women. You tried to call the security outside for backup, but no one was picking up. Something was wrong, so you wove your way through the crowd that was quickly growing dense around Bucky’s 2-on-1 brawl that the was winning. You were able to make your way to the back door and pushed it open, looking and seeing two large men on the ground. The guards, they had been chloroformed.

Steve emerged from the side of the building, where he had probably just been checking the same as you at the front, running towards you and breathing heavily. He had seen the fallen guards up there, too, but wasn’t sure if it applied everywhere. By the look in his eyes, it did, and Curtis was long gone. You slammed your hand against the brick wall of the old establishment.

“Ah, shit.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: Chloroform is a very common solvent that I used when getting my degree. I was constantly reminded to not put my face over the vials and beakers I was using because it’s also quite volatile, so if you breathe in the fumes, goodnight.

Also:

Taglist: @mrsnikstan @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @ronearoundblindly @thedonswife13

[beybaldes]

they long to be (close to you)

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

djats masterlist

Word Count : 3.6k

Summary : Eddie doesn't understand why you seem to like him less then your other bandmates since moving to LA. little does he know that really isn't the case.

Thank you for all the love on the last fic, especially @thefemininemystiquee !! your comment absolutely made my day!! so this one is for you <;33

Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because i have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more Eddie fics xoxo

Ever since the move to LA, the shitty rental Billy had paid for was getting on Eddie's last nerve. Not because it was constantly too hot inside and too cold outside, not because of the lack of air conditioning, not because of the thin ass walls and not because of the way the sun never seemed to set enough that it wouldn't peak under his curtains when he was trying to sleep. The thing about the house in LA that got on his nerves the most was the fact that he couldn't escape you.

It wasn't that Eddie didn't like you - it was quite the opposite in that matter. Eddie really liked you, but it just seemed like you didn't like him, at least not anymore. Back in Pittsburgh, you and Eddie had been the best of friends, and you still were, but since you'd all moved into the same house, he'd noticed something; you never touched him.

Plenty of times had he seen you wrapped in a tight hug with Karen, her head atop your own as you hid your face in her shoulder, with one hand on the small of Camilla's back and the other holding her own as you danced around the kitchen together, Graham's legs intertwined with yours as you shared a blanket when the widows were wide open late at night - fuck, he'd even seen you tucked under Billy's arm with one arm wrapped around his waist as you made small talk.

But the worst was every time he saw you with Warren.

You were always together, seemingly inseparable in the way he thought the two of you had been back in Pittsburgh and it hurt. Everywhere he looked, if you weren't touching someone else, you were touching Warren. Holding his hand as you walked through the house or with his head in your lap (or yours in his) on the couch as you watched some shitty rerun, his arms wrapped around your waist as he held you from behind as the two of you stood together, his hands pulling you close to him as you cuddled up in his lap late at night in the living room, your hands in his hair as the two of you shared a blunt, or three, on the porch late at night. He couldn't escape it or the thought that that should be him.

Eddie longed to be close to you in a way you didn't seem to want with him. Boy, if only he knew how wrong he was.

In all the years you'd known Eddie, he hadn't been one for touchiness. If your hand brushed his he'd always been quick to pull it away, or if you reached for a hug he turned it into a quick side hug then carried in with whatever he was doing. As far as you were concerned, you were just respecting Eddie's wishes to be left alone.

Warren was happy to fill the needed affection you often sought out. He, himself, was quite the lover - always one to take a cuddle and hold onto a hug for way longer then most would deem appropriate - which was exactly what you needed. The two of you had spent many nights in bed together in LA just for the company of it, and not that you didn't like it, you just wished it was with someone else, instead.

"You coming to bed, sweet girl?" Warren asked with a tired drawl to his words, extending a hand out to you while the other held the remainder of his joint to his lips.

"In a little." You hummed back, taking a hit out the joint he offered out to you, the joint being held to your lips by Warren instead of taking it into your own hands. "I'm not tired enough to sleep."

Warren pulled the joint back to his lips, his other hand coming to brush your hair out of your eyes and behind your ear, his hand resting against your hair and keeping you tucked in the crook of his neck. "You want me to wait up with you? Or you can come keep my company? I'll put on some Fleetwood Mac, it'll help you sleep, baby girl."

That was another thing that had Eddie seething. The constant nicknames you let the others call you. Back in Pittsburgh, Eddie was the only one who'd ever called you anything but your name, and now he was the only one who didn't. Karen called you sweet-pea, Camilla called you sunshine as did Graham and even Billy, but Warren? Warren called you whatever he liked; sweet girl, baby girl, baby, doll, his.

"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."

You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen.

"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes. 

All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."

"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.

"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."

"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."

"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."

Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?

"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, save for Eddie who's brow tightened at the way everyone laughed at you, looked at you. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own angst, then maybe he would've noticed the way you spared a concerned glance his way.

A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, everyone except yours, your eyes, laced with concern, lingering on Eddie. Something was going on and you were going to get to the bottom of it without doubt.

By the end of the episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham was fast asleep, his head leaning against yours making you trapped in his hold, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.

As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and stumbled sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.

Eddie stood, though with more awareness then Graham and turned to you with a tight lipped smile. Before you could ask him to stay a while, not wanting to be alone when you were still not ready to go bed with Warren, he turned for the kitchen, coming with back two new, cold beers in hand. He held one out for you, then almost jumped away in shock when you grabbed his wrist instead of the bottle. You quickly pulled your hand away from his, chiding yourself for forgetting Eddie didn't like to be touched, and curling into yourself. "Sit with me? Please?"

Eddie could never say no to you. So, he sat down on the couch, though made sure to keep a good bit of distance between the two of you, then handed your your beer, watching as you took a quick swig of the cold liquid.

"So, you and Warren?" Eddie couldn't help himself from asking, even though Karen had only an hour ago, too caught up in the fact it wasn't him to take notice of the sweet, friendly, moment you and Warren had shared earlier.

"Not like that, I already told you guys."

"You sure?" Eddie asked again, and though he had a teasing lilt to his words, you could feel a sense of something more behind them - some kind of worry, or something, you weren't entirely sure.

"Positive. He's just a friend." Taking another swig of your ice cold beer, you remained focused on the tv, really enjoying the antics of Scooby-doo and mystery inc in your effort to fall asleep.

"Really?" Eddie asked, his teasing tone coming off more in a way of disbelief now. "Cause he asked you to 'come to bed'."

"I sleep in Warren's bed most nights." You explained, coming clean for the first time about how often you actually found yourself in the curly-haired, brunettes bed. "We both like the company."

"And how did that start?" Eddie's asked, one arm stretching out over the back of the sofa in your direction. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was slowly testing the waters of how close he could get to you, see if he, himself, was the reason you never touched him or if it was something else entirely.

"We were both out smoking late, then it got cold. Warren suggested we move it inside, and I reminded him of how Cami said she hates it when the living room stinks of shit." You paused, taking another sip from your beer, your fingers running across the droplets of water that were forming across the outside of the glass bottle. "Warren offered we go to his room so my room wouldn't get cold when we opened the window. We both fell asleep and ended up all tangled together the next morning. Neither of us wanted to get up cause we were too comfy, so I promised him I'd come back the next night if we got out of bed and got to practice. Now it's just become routine."

Though you'd given a pretty concise and accurate explanation of your relationship with Warren, Eddie was certain there was something more, something that made you act like that with Warren and not him, some kind of feelings or something that made it different.

"Yeah, but I think we all thought you guys were together before tonight." Eddie continued, your gaze breaking away from the tv just for a moment to meet his eyes. You'd never thought anyone thought you and Warren were together because of the way you acted - otherwise people would've thought you were dating everyone in the band. "Y'know, with all the times he's holding your hand, or your sat in his lap, giving him a hug. It just looks like you're together - are you sure you aren't?"

"I'm like that with everyone." You dismissed, eyes unmoving from the TV, worried that if you looked at Eddie you'd see something you didn't want to - disgust, repulsion, or some other kind of thing that told you he thought you were weird. Though, when push came to shove, you knew you wouldn't care what Eddie thought - whatever you and Warren had made it that much easier to be in LA, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"Not with me." He whispered, sipping from the cool beer that he had held against his lips, eyes moving away from your figure and back to the tv with a huff.

"What did you say?" You asked, warmth and all together y/n-ness dropping from your face as your turned your entire body to face him, your knees now bent up on the couch.

Eddie was done acting like he didn't care. If things went bad tonight it gave him just another reason to add to the list of why he hated the band and this stupid house. He had a bone to pick and he wasn't going to back down now he had the ample opportunity to speak out about it. "I said, not with me."

Eddie didn't give you the chance to cut in edge way with an explanation or an apology - though he didn't know exactly what would leave your mouth. He'd never really considered what was going on in your head about not touching him - only really focused on the fact that, once again, he seemed to be the one left out.

"You get all cuddly and shit with everyone else except me. Your always hugging Karen or Camilla, snuggled up with Graham, don't even get me started on how you're all over Warren and Billy - even Billy - you've hugged him more times here in LA then I think we've talked!"

"No I haven't." Your words came out in a whisper, suddenly unsure of everything that had happened in the past few months since you'd moved to LA. "You're my best friend Ed's, i don't ignore you, don't say that."

"That's not my point." Eddie let out a sigh, calming down immediately as he took notice of the way you moved further into the arm of the couch when he raised his voice a little. Taking a second to compose himself, he ran a hand over his face, placing down his beer on the coffee table in front of you two. "It seems like you want to, y'know, do all that with everyone but me. And I guess, what I'm trying to say is - why not me? Did I do something?"

Your heart broke at the crestfallen look of Eddie's face. "I thought you didn't like to be touched." You murmured, beginning to think you'd read into his actions a little too much - maybe he just needed the time to warm up to you touching him first - you'd never considered he'd feel left out by what you thought was what he wanted. "Whenever I've tried to touch you, you've brushed me off. I just figured that was you way of being nice about it, y'know, letting me down gently or whatever. I didn't think-"

You paused, reflecting on when the last time you'd even tried to touch Eddie had been, when the last time you'd called him Ed's had been, when the last time you'd held a conversation with him that wasn't in a group setting had been. "I don't know what I thought."

Your arms were wrapped around your knees, holding them close to your chest as you rested your chin on them, looking up at Eddie woefully. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I never meant to make you feel that way."

"Birdie..." He almost, whimpered, wanting to reach out for a hug but not knowing where to begin. How could he? He couldn't remember the last time someone had given him one. What if he did it wrong?

Standing from your seat, remote in hand, you flicked the TV off, quickly placing it down beside Eddies abandoned bottle. You offered your open hand out to him.

Eddie cautiously took it, your hands cupping each others and Eddie letting your thumb run over the flesh of his knuckles. You pulled Eddie behind you, careful not to move too quickly as to let his hand slip from yours, or to wake anyone else up. In a way, it felt wrong to be doing this with someone who wasn't Warren, in another, you'd never been more excited for anything.

Leading Eddie into your room, you urged him to get into your bed, closing the door gently behind you. Turning around, you were surprised to see him stood staring at you in confusion.

"I mean, I would've settled for hug or something - I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong." He rushed out his words as he spoke, trying to convey all his feelings on the matter before he could hurt your feelings in any capacity. "I'm just- I didn't say what I said to try and replace whatever you and Warren have, I'm not, I'm not that kind of guy. At least, I don't want to be."

"I already told you." You whispered, reaching out for his hand again as you crossed the room to meet him. "Just friends. Besides." You pulled him with you into the bed, pulling the duvet up from where it'd been kicked off the bed and onto the floor the last time you and Warren had stayed in here, and over the two of you. "No one I'd rather share it with."

Eddie froze for a moment, not quite believing the words that had just graced his ears. Turning on his side to face you, he found you already looking at him, one of your hands reaching out for his under the covers and intertwining your fingers. "Really? No one else?"

"No one else." You confirmed, shuffling closer to Eddie as you whispered your answer into the darkness of the room. "I love Warren, but sometimes it's an absolute fight sleeping in a bed with him."

"Yeah?" Eddie giggled, giggled, completely flustered by the new and close proximity the two of you were sharing.

"Yeah." You answered, slipping one of your legs between Eddie's and putting the other atop him own, pulling the two of you even closer together. Now pressed chest to chest, there was nowhere to look except the others eyes. "He kicks, he scratches and by God does he snore. Keeps me nice and warm though. Brings good company."

"I can be good company." Eddie proposed, an unsaid question lingering the words shared just between the two of you.

"I bet you can, Ed's." You answered, eyes flickering between his and his lips, catching him doing the same when you tried to meet his eyes again.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss, holding the kiss for a long while as he tried to express everything that had built up inside of him since the arrival to LA, and everything he'd already thought since high school. You snaked your arms up between the two of you, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him even closer to you, deepening the kiss as you did so. Eddie hummed into you, pulling away from the kiss only to lean back in, pressing a series of quick as chaste kisses to your lips.

No other words were said that night, you nuzzling into the crook Eddie's neck and Eddie resting his head atop yours - not without pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, however. The two of you fell asleep rather quickly, the late night catching up with you in the warmth of tangled limbs, a messily thrown on duvet and the LA heat. You slept right through the night till late the next morning, neither of you shifting away from the position you'd fallen asleep in, except to burrow further into the other every time one of you felt them pull away.

You would've slept for longer, in fact, curled into each other and dreaming about what would happen on nights going forward, if it weren't for the fact Warren came barging into the room with a loud cry of your name the following morning.

"Y/n!" He shouted, causing both you and Eddie to stir from your sleep, neither of you moving from the arms of the other despite his loud arrival. "I was worried sick! I woke up and you weren't here I thought you'd been kidnapped or something!"

Warren collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he could given the barrier of the duvet. His sudden weight on top of you had your groaning in protest, however, it was Eddies voice that had Warren springing from his position and out of your bed.

Eddie never got the opportunity to ask Warren to get off of you, Warren running from the room with a cry of 'y/n slept with Eddie instead of me,' that gained the attention of everyone else in the house.

Neither you nor Eddie cared though, closing your eyes once more after you shared a quick, soft kiss, falling back asleep in the comfort of each others hold, something - you thought - that you should've been doing a long time ago.

[writingforstraykids]

Do you write soft thoughts for pairings between members as well? If yes..minchan please🫶🏻

Oh, please, we all know I can't shut up about those two...this is a little longer than the individual ones.

They're both shit at taking breaks and getting some rest when there's work to be done. Nevertheless, none of them will shut up if it's the other one needing a break. Chan will pull a protesting, sweaty, and exhausted Minho out of their dance practice room any day. Minho will drive back to the company at 4am, making up some bullshit like feeling cold in bed for Chan to finally come back home.

We all know Chan is very cuddly, no matter if he's the one hugging or getting hugged. With Minho, that hasn't been as easy as he would've wanted in the beginning. But with time Minho would only playfully pull a face if he hugged him in public, but never back away. And back home, he melts into his boyfriend's strong, warm hug as much as he can. Sometimes he loves to surprise Chan with a tight hug or wraps his arms around him from behind, making the older man all fuzzy and giggling.

Minho loves to cook and challenges himself with new recipes whenever he finds time. By now, he knows all of Chan's favorite dishes by heart. Cooking for Chan is part of Minho's love language, and whenever Chan seems a little down, Minho will make time for it. The tired but happy smile on his boyfriend's face is everything he could ask for in return. Chan loves gifting him aprons with silly little jokes written on them, and his heart bursts whenever he sees him wearing them.

Chan loves watching Minho cook, and sometimes he'll sneak up on him and wrap his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder. Minho lets him, approving his presence with a soft, welcoming hum, and continues working. If Chan tries to steal a bite without him offering, he'll very gently hit his hand, making him pout. Which is a sight he can't bear for long, and he ends up kissing his cheek and poking the tip of his nose. At that Chan can't help but beam at him, giggling and giving him a loving squeeze.

Minho doesn't like talking when he's sleepy, but he does love to listen. Sometimes, when Chan's still wide awake and Minho's about to pass out after another 4am rescue mission, they end up in bed, Chan resting on Minho's chest. Minho lazily plays with his hair, softly humming in response whenever Chan seems uncertain if he should keep on talking. Chan grows more tired by talking, and Minho does by listening, getting lulled in by his soothing voice. He'll try and stay awake for as long as he can and sometimes he manages that Chan falls asleep first.

Whenever Chan gets really stressed or insecure about certain parts of a new choreo, Minho grabs his hand and pulls him right back after practice. He then patiently breaks it down for him, making sure to praise him for doing so well until he's blushing and hiding his face in his hands. It takes a lot of pressure off Chan, and Minho enjoys making him smile, so it's a win for both of them.

Minho still gets stressed out when he has to sing parts of the song that are English, worrying he'll forget the lyrics on stage or butcher the words. Chan is there to assure him he's doing amazing, telling him how to pronounce certain words or single sounds and making him feel more secure with it. Sometimes, when the mood is right, Chan tries to have a conversation in English with him, and Minho ends up huffing and hiding in his arms, complaining about how tiring this is for his brain. He appreciates his help, though, and wouldn't trade it for the world.

Chan doesn't like showing he's exhausted. He hates passing out in front of the others because he's so tired. He feels like failing them all when he does, worrying them about his health and happiness. Minho more or less forced him to open up with him, letting him help him out when he was too exhausted to think straight. So now Minho has become Chan's safe place whenever he needs a break or to take a nap.

Neither of them likes showing they're upset that openly, but it's harder for Minho. Chan's arms were the first place he cried in public, and that never changed. Sometimes, when he's at the edge of crying because he's hurt, frustrated, or so physically drained he can't move, he deliberately denies him the comfort of his boyfriend. He knows hugging him will snap that tight knot in his throat and unleash a flood of tears. Chan isn't stupid, though, and notices sooner than he'd like, taking him to a private area and pulling him into his lap, kissing his head and promising they'd be okay.

Whenever Minho picks up Chan and drives them back home, it's a different kind of vibe. It's just them driving on the nearly empty streets, lights passing by. Sometimes, the sky is so clear they can see the stars, painting it like a black canvas. Some nights, they turn on some music, letting that set the vibe, and others, they don't, enjoying the comfortable silence after a busy day. Chan's hand always finds Minho's, who changes gears with Chan's hand safely in his now. It hasn't happened only once that they stayed in the car for another half an hour or hour, sudden words flowing so freely in their shared privacy. Minho is almost never as open about his feelings for Chan and their future as right there, tired out, a little sleepy, and so full of adoration for his only hyung. Chan promises him the world right there, being as open as never about his worries weighing heavily on his shoulders. He can't stop smiling at his younger boyfriend, feeling safe here with him.

Chan spends a lot of time at the company and the studio, working on new stuff. Sometimes, when Jisung and Changbin aren't around, Minho joins him instead. He doesn't talk much, getting comfortable on the sofa in the background and scrolling through his phone. Chan doesn't need him to talk but enjoys the company nevertheless, flashing him a soft smile from time to time. Sometimes Minho plants himself right in his lap, cuddling him as he works and playing with his hair. Chan usually gives in after a bit and takes a break to cuddle him properly.

As passionate and crazy as they can get, sometimes they're all soft and lazy kisses. Due to their tight schedules, they're often so tired they don't really have the energy for more. But deep down, both of them love nothing more than holding onto each other, cuddled up close in Chan's room or their bed as their lips meet in slow, sweet, and loving kisses. Minho thinks he's addicted to the feeling of Chan's full lips dancing against his by now. Chan shares those thoughts out loud, whispering sweet nothings to him.

There's a reason Chan calls Minho his kitten. Because under all those frowns, glares, and seemingly cold distance, Minho is so sweet and needy for love. He enjoys being carried around on stage by Chan, getting pulled into a hug, or being chased around the stage as Chan giggles like a maniac. If Minho's the kitten, then Chan's the happy puppy, always looking for cuddles and wanting to share his love. This makes them the perfect match because Minho knows who to trust when he needs some comfort. He knows he can lean on his shoulder, no questions asked, and Chan will hold his hand, kissing his head and drawing small patterns across his skin.

Minho can't always be there, keeping his trained eyes on his boyfriend and making sure he's taking care of himself. So he loves leaving little reminders for him. He writes little sticky notes and puts them on the fridge to remind his Channie love to eat, threatening him to sleep on the sofa if not (obviously joking). Chan's heart bursts with love for the younger man whenever he finds another note that Minho simply wrote for him because he loves him. He doesn't tell Minho, but he's collecting them all in a box after writing small responses on them to give back to Minho once it's full.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland

[myers-meadow]

Letter by letter. Thomas Hewitt x f reader

Title: Letter by letter

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt x fem reader who is not from the USA.

Summary: As part of a school project, Thomas starts exchanging letters with a penpal from oversees. With her, he finds a freedom to be himself, to express himself fully, and his longing to have her near grows ever more. One day, an unexpected guest shows up at the doorstep of the Hewitt's.

Warnings: sfw. canon-typical allusions to the murdering and cannibalism. Implied kidnapping at the end. Written in third person. No name used, written as a reader-insert.

It was years ago that the letters started. One of those projects of the school Thomas went to back then; to have an international pen pal. Some young pupils never got beyond the first letter, shoved the reply in a drawer and forgot about the entire thing, but not Thomas. Despite struggling with writing sometimes; the cramped fingers, the ink stains, the messy handwriting, and his shyness; he pushed through, letter after letter.

It started with that postcard of Fuller he sent with his introduction, purchased from his mama’s store, and his dearest pen pal sent one back of the city she lived close by. Told him some cool history about the buildings in the picture.

When he hit his growth spurt, earlier than the other kids, he quit school and started working at the meat plant. It was a relief to be away from school and the other students, and the work provided him with a sense of purpose. To her, he was able to write about the butchering, about how it felt. About his skills with the cleaver, how he could feel himself grow stronger, that he was so good at it that he could cut through bone with ease, that he could make just as many clean finished chops as his established colleagues. He left out what they called him when they thought he couldn’t hear.

It was exhilarating to Thomas. His dear pen pal, an entire sea away, didn’t know anything about him. The freedom he felt to express himself to someone who knew nothing of the ridicule he faced, who wasn’t able to see what he looked like, didn’t know anything about him other than what he told her. He grew into himself when he wrote to her, free and true.

The money for the expensive international stamps he squirreled away from his salary at the meat plant – shrugging his shoulders when the family made a comment about it. None had tried to touch this aspect of his life. Luda Mae especially saw his excitement as a new letter arrived and was glad for it.

She was named after a love song, she said, and she was just a year younger than him. Her birthday was on the cusp of spring into summer and each year it was as if he felt the approach of it like a flower emerging from its bud. He was fifteen when she wrote that he could call her a nickname – even if it may be because he kept misspelling her long, foreign name, it didn’t matter. She was a writer, a poet, after going to school for as long as her parents could afford to send her, she worked as a typist at a firm she never named. She often sent him little excerpts from stories she was working on, which he praised even if he didn’t understand entirely what they were about. After all, she took the time to translate them into English so he could read them. It made him feel special. Appreciated. As if his opinions really mattered to her.   

Even despite his struggles to word himself, it seemed she understood him. He knew it was impossible, but wanted desperately for it to be true. His daily life couldn’t be further from hers. After all, she wouldn’t feel the same satisfaction when cutting a bull’s throat, or feel the ache in her muscles, the words echoing in his head, after a day of work. At the same time, he doesn’t have hands stained with ink or broken nails from the force he hit the keys of the typing machine with.

The frequency of the letters increased and by now Thomas must be one of the only ones keeping Fuller’s postman in business. There were flowers in ink around his name in the greeting of the newer letters. After he was done reading a verse from the bible before bed, he read with her most recent letter to commit it to memory, as he did with them all. Did she reread his letters to her too? He hoped so. And as he laid down in bed, curtains still open so he could stare at the stars, he thought of her. Of a warm body beside his own. What would her voice sound like, her accent? How would his name sound on her lips?

It was barely a week later, and the postman handed him a new letter. Thomas ripped it open, reading it as he stood on the lawn, thinking that the work could wait. After all, the tourists were already dead. Their firsts… And there was no going back now. It meant many things for Thomas and the family – one of which was: no more work at the meat plant. No more insults. His eyes racked over the letter greedily. His confidence had grown since taking his first human life, and he felt he could do anything. He couldn’t wait to tell her that things had changed – leaving out the unsavoury bits, of course. Stalking inside and up the stairs, he sat down on his bed to write his response.

The day after, the doorbell sounded just after noon. Unlikely to be a neighbour as there weren’t any for miles. Tourists then? Thomas grunted as he remembered he was the only one home, and slammed the cleaver down into the wooden table. Wiping his hands on his filthy apron, he threw it off as he marched up the stairs. As he swung the door open, the most unlikely sight stood in front of him. It was her. How did she get here? The angels must have blessed him. Just to look at her, to have her close enough to touch was more than he’d ever hoped for. He stared and stared, eyes wide, as she introduced herself. Voice sweeter than honey.

She said her name, pronounced differently from how he’d said it in his head, and then: “I’m so sorry to be a bother, but is Tommy home perhaps? I’d love to see him.”

It fell silent, as he stared at her, expecting her to fade like a mirage. As he saw her falter, he scrambled, gesturing to himself. Out of his back pocket he grabbed the recent letter, he liked rereading it so he kept it with him, and showed her. Then pointed from his name to himself. Regretting how gross he must look, hands not even washed, tie crooked, sweaty from the heat in the basement. Not that she looked any less sweaty, but she still looked like an angel.

“Tommy, it’s you!” she said, instead, and hugged him. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. Is it unexpected? I sent you a letter but it may not have arrived yet. Can I come in?”

Of course, he let her, with his heart beating out of his chest. Now that she was here, there was no single possibility in his mind that she’d ever leave again.

[deanoheartspie]

SOMETHING RED 4

Pairings: Reader x Soldier Boy (Ben)

Warnings: fluff, angst.

Summary: you knew soldier boy since you were young until the man had gotten tested he had become a whole different person. So when he comes back after Crimson and other supes send him away, it makes him angry

A/n: Sorry for the late update!

“Why do I have to wear a suit?” you ask with a frown, picking at the tight gold and white super suit and tugging it off your ass when you hear a low won't whistle. You didn't understand why you had to pretend to be starlight.

“Well look what we have here, is it my birthday or something,” Ben says with a shit-eating grin on his face as he grabs your waist spinning you around.

You huff with a cute pout on your face, which always seemed to make Ben fold no matter how mad or upset he was.

“Don't look at me with that face sweetheart” He bites down on his lip, looking at you like you were the most gorgeous woman in the whole world. If only he had said it more in the past maybe you'd believe it.

Glancing away, you walk towards Butcher with your arms crossed. “They know who I am, they aren't stupid,” you grumbled out, pissed off that you were going to be used as bait.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Once Ben had found out the reason you were wearing the super suit, he didn't like the sound of it. As much of a dick he was, he did have his overprotective moments which you had to admit... You kinda loved it showed he cared.

“Y/n... Y/n. I don't want you doing this.” Soldier boy grabbed your arm, tugging you back. The audacity of this man to think he gets to tell you what you can and cannot do.

So why you might continue this you might be asking? Petty. Ben hated pettiness and stubbornness, especially from you.

“Quit it. I'll be fine, Soldier boy~” You sang out, as you walked through the allys, not understanding why the man even bothered following he didn't care before so why now?

“You look like a hooker in a costume, am I supposed to just leave you here to be murdered by this cheap blonde knock-off me?” Without another word, the next thing you knew you were being tossed over a shoulder.

“We are getting you food and we'll figure out another plan.” He stated not allowing you to protest, oh boy... Butcher is gonna be pissed

“Can we at least get some normal clothes then? Wait! We can get you new clothes too, we both know how much you love to shop” you smirk, as you tease him skipping off to a store. Honestly, you were excited to see him in a nice outfit rather than the super suit or a baseball jersey even though he looked hot in both.

With racks and Racks of clothing, Ben looked stressed as ever rubbing his temple insulting shirts that men nowadays we're and how they were such pussys and blah blah.

Luckily enough, you were able to find something that suited dinner. A nice brown jacket with a white button-up, even though there were a few complaints Ben had to admit he cleaned up nice.

“Your turn sweet cheeks. Unless you want to wear that all night, I can't complain I get a nice view of your a-” You immediately cut him off, as the store owner was judging you and him from the moment the both of you stepped in.

Ben looked over seeing the old greyish-hard woman, sure he liked older women since he'd be around the same age as them. Oddly enough though, he didn't understand why you didn't age...yet his attraction for you never left.

He found a lacy black long skirt with long sleeved shirt so you wouldn't get cold. “You look beautiful...”

°•••••••••••••••••°

Dinner. Laughing. Olds times.

It was weird, the way Ben tossed his head back while he laughed and mentioned old memories and how great life was when they were young with no worries... It was like the old part of him was still there and you wanted to cling to it just for a little while longer.

Holding hands, while walking through the streets the nice cold breeze hitting your face thankfully hiding your blush.

Stupidly enough you mention Crimson... His breath hitches and he pulls away from you.

“Ben... I'm sorry I didn't mean to bring it up”

Before you knew it you were being tossed onto a wall, hitting your head on the brick wall. You see what you can muster out Ben being surrounded by cars, and Butcher's voice...

Trying your best to keep your eyes open... You just couldn't anymore.

“Y/n! Y/n!!”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list: @kat-nee @globetrotter28 @hobby27

[goddess-of-bubblegum]

~your court jester~ leo x daughter of zeus!reader !medieval AU!

(I did the chap!!)

You were a child of Zeus, king of Olympia who was married to Queen hera, which whom he had triplets with, Jason, Thalia and you, with you being the youngest 

Today was the day a ball was being held, where you could see your cousins and friends. You knew for certain that king posidon and qeen amphridite of atlantia would be there, along with his children; prince percy and tyson and king Hades and queen Persephone of Elysia and their children nico and hazel would be there too, but it wasn't them you were exited about.

Nor was it lady athena , the war-rstrategist with her children, and it wasn't lord Ares (war commander) or anyone else of the sort.

In fact, it wasn't even a noble person at all!

It was leo , the child of the palaces blacksmith. You felt a familiar flutter in your stomach as you thought of him, but you knew your mother and father would have your head on a platter if they ever knew.

They wanted you to marry a nobleman (or woman), or atleast someone in a position of power, not some pesant child of the palaces blacksmith! Alas, they found you weren't happy with any of the suitors they showed you, but hope was (unfortunately) not lost for them.

》I just don't understand it piper!《 you grunted as she pulled the corset strings tighter, the handmaiden child of Aphrodite,  the tailor for the royals hanging on your every word.

 》what is it that you don't understand, m'lady《 you blinked and pushed some of her styled hair out of her face

》no need to call me that and I just....I dont know why I'm not falling for any nobles! I mean, there's percy, who looks like a God, hazel who looks stunning, and even from the  people who aren't nobles who my parents would approve of, like lady annabeth, aren't that interesting!《 

》well, I know you've been looking at the court jester, leo, you do know he's a close friend of mine, Right?《

she finished adjusting your cosetband moved on to fixing your gown

》plus, prince nicholas-《

》He preffers to be called nico《 you interrupt

 》Prince nico is dating the local bard, William, and his parents seem to approve 《

You sigh as you push another strand of hair away from your [e/c] eyes 》well yes, but bard and jester are two different things! And Williams father is a well respected bard, Leo's dad is the blacksmith of the palace who is highly unliked for his looks, not that leo inherited any, of course! But Apollon the bard does have strong ties with King Hades, so of course nico dates him! Whereas my mother and father both hate hephastios the weaponmaker《 

Piper sighs, mildly exasperated with how dramatic you were 》well who are they going to introduce you to next, a guard?《 she makes an attempt at a joke, trying to lighten the mood

》not too far off, actually,  you know the soldier lityerses? The child of lady demeter?《 you sigh and try not to ruin your make-up by face-palming

》oooh, he's a catch! But I must say I prefer shel...《 Piper thought fondly of the village baker-girl, with whom she was absolutely smitten with

》ya know, sometimes I wish I was a commoner.....then it wouldn't matter who I'd married....《 

Piper looked at you with pity in her eyes, before subtly looking at the window, seeming to say I told you so to leo with her eyes, who was standing outside the window all along

☆le time Skippy because idk what else to put here☆

You tapped the heel of your shoe against the floor at random intervals while playing with with a strand of your hair, your cousins have already arrived, that's not what you were nervous about, but it was now time to "entertain" the royals , which means you would see leo, the favorited court jester 

》M-mother?-《 your tried to hide just how much your voice trembled, which your mother always found endearing

》w-when are the entertainers coming?《

》in a bit, my little peafowl, leodinaidas (i-i.....I butchered that, didn't I?) being the first to arrive 《

》o-okay....《 you sighed and looked out the window, seeing Piper laughing and cuddling with shel, and sighed wistfully You werent at all joking when you said you'd love to live a commoners life,  close to no responsibilities, not having to deal with potential suitors and being able to love who you wanted to love.

Nico and will were on your right, and were laughing at something,  will was nicos personal medic and bard, and they were dating which is parents did accept as will and his father were high in status.

He could date him without problems.

But you couldn't date leo

Speaking of-

You blushed hard the moment you saw leo enter the ballroom. 》my ladies,  lords and lieges! It is I, leodinaidas the court jester! But you can call me leo , and pretty people can call me love~《

zeus chuckled at that, while hera rolled her eyesYou blushed and quickly looked away, gods why is he like this...... he continued with his jester bit, making jokes and making fun of everything

Eventually,  his act died down and will started playing music for people to dance to, [I mean, they were in a ballroom] and you were just standing awkwardly on sidelines, watching your siblings and cousins dance with their partners.You sighed sadly and were deep in thought , only being pulled out when someone tapped your shoulder.

》huh?《 you looked behind you, not seeing anyone, before you felt someone take your hand in theirs 》hello gorgeous-《

 You looked infromt of you, and flushed red immediately Infront of you was, who else would it be, leo

》l-leo?!《 you breathed out

》Hi gorgeous~ would you indulge me , a humble jester, in a dance with a stunning woman like you?《 You smiled nervously and looked over to where your sister, Thalia, was standing, who was grinning and giving you a thumbs up, zeus smirking and rolling his eyes as he looks at the both of you

》y-yeah s-sure......《 you tripped over your own words

He smiled and led you out to the dance floor, putting one hand on your shoulder and the other on your waist, starting to dance a slow waltz with you

You smiled and let him lead your moves, smiling widely for the first time in a whileAfter a while of dancing, you tripped and almost fell down, if it weren't for leo catching you bending down to your level, his lips only inches from yours.You blushed and leaned closer into his lips, only a breath away from touching his lips, so close you could almost count every single freckle on his face.

》may I?-.....《 he breathes out

You nod and inched closer to him, feeling butterfly's in your stomach as his lips touch yours, him kissing you being the best feeling you've felt for a while After a minute that felt like far more than that, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours

》Pipes told me You had a crush on me.....and I thank whatever force is pulling us together because I never thought my feelings would be reciprocated.....I love you《

And without thinking of potential consequences and pushing any judgement from your parents , the words fell out of your mouth 》I love you too《

@bast-the-best26 @reyna4ever @deciduowl

[extremely-judgemental]

I haven't felt so strongly about a book for so long as I do about the ACOTAR series. The more I think about it, the more I believe it has everything to do with the writing itself than the characters.

Someone once said SJM's book are about her characters and analysing the plot for logic would definitely lead to disliking the series. I don't know about her other books, but I can say for sure that since ACOMAF, to her, the characters are nothing but carriers for her 'cool plot ideas'.

In fantasy, the appeal lies with the high-stakes, the unimaginable, and the magical aspect of the story and so makes sense that SJM focuses more on that. But on the other hand, she sacrifices her characters like lambs even for a bit of suspense or thrill.

The best example I've got is the butchering of Feyre's character. The woman in first book is completely unrecognisable after the second. With ACOMAF, I understood she went through trauma after trauma and she was healing the best she could. I was waiting and waiting for her evolution into someone who has clearer values and more defined personality.

Instead she's reduced to a character to whom the plot happens. She has no clear healing, her family bonds are more strained than ever, her friendships are more goal oriented than anything, her ruling as High Lady is nothing more than a show.

I read the fanfics first and I thought I'd give the series a try. Huge mistake! Where was this side of fandom to warn me?? I believed with all my heart that IC are good people when I began the books and imagine my surprise how quickly the illusion was shattered.

Feyre doesn't actually seem to heal. Or in my opinion, I don't see how or where it might have happened. She still is reckless and endangers lives for what she believes is right.

She's used to making herself useful and she believes that's what gives her value in life. That's confused as her love language of giving and being of service. Not denying it isn't who she is though.

In ACOMAF, her relationship with Rhys is just that initially. He throws her in harm's way again and again, and she readily does it because it makes her useful, her powers useful. It's why she doesn't feel what Rhys is doing anything wrong, and so the readers don't find it shady.

In ACOWAR, it's a personal vendetta. In both books, it's more to do with her own reasons than good of others. They are collateral, a justification of sorts.

Like she felt at home before Tamlin, before Spring Court. Her family needed her for survival. She needed to feel useful to the point that she couldn't figure out what she wanted to do when she found her family was fine.

I'd have loved if she had learned not everything relied on her and she could take a break. If she had learned she has responsibilities to others but it doesn't mean her life would end if she failed once.

Instead she has an epiphany at the last minute and was afraid of losing Rhys. Just him, not the rest of her life, all the other happiness she might be missing on. Instead we get the Feyre who realised her idea of living life is having a child and being a housewife. Instead of having a steady healing where she becomes better and better and considerate, we get Feyre who's arrogant, conniving and prying.

Feyre once said in the beginning that if her sisters were married and she didn't have all those responsibilities, she would spend her days painting. And finally when she does it, people are to assume, it was her happy ending. But it was a lame way to give closure to her character. That was young, overworked, deeply traumatised Feyre asking for a little break and compassion. It wasn't her ultimate goal in her life. Honestly, her dream was never revealed because Feyre didn't matter in SJM's books, it was her plot that she cared about.

I have so many thoughts on all the other characters and every time I get mad, I remember it was all SJM's fault.

[wannaeatramyeon]

I realized while lying in bed, I completely butchered the ask for Vin Jin OTL and realized this is super late to fix aha- So hopefully you don't mind me reasking it ; v ;

What I meant was: Could you possibly write a Vin Jin x Reader where a girl he's known since his younger days, eventually had to move away? Due to an unknown reason.

(You don't have to include this!) And the reader has heterochromia, making Vin and her relate to one another's bullying problems with their eyes.

Hi anon!! I'm a little glad you clarified because I come back to your initial ask every now and then and wonder... how the hell am I going to make Vin less of an asshole. I couldn't see him comforting you as he is now, but yes the younger days YES YES.

Vin Jin x Reader: Childhood friends

"Ok, on three?"

"Sure."

"One, two, three-" You take a deep breath and lift your sunglasses up, eyes revealed-

To find Vin pointing and laughing right at your face.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Asshole!" You slam the shades back down.

Heaven knows why you thought this would be any different to when you were kids. You thought the years apart meant he would be less juvenile and childish. Maturing was a thing with some people, but it seemed to have completely eluded Vin, pulling off the same shit he did back when you were both in Elementary School.

More fool you for believing him. You had forgotten he would never show you his eyes no matter how much you begged, only of his own accord. Guess he's still the same old Vin.

He continues laughing as you scowl in his direction. Seriously, it's not that funny. It's not funny at all.

"You stupid idiot," Vin wipes the tears of laughter beneath his eyes, momentarily lifting his own frames.

The smallest slip of three pupils.

And your breath hitches.

Seeing them again, after all these years. A throwback to your childhood together.

'Sticks and stone may break my bones but words can never hurt me' a complete lie. Your tears mingling with the rain, sobs lost in the storm. A hand reaching out to you in the downpour. You holding onto his arm as you continued to cry. The start of a friendship between two kids being called freaks and monsters. Your bare eyes met his over and over again after that wrinkle in time.

Vin smirks when he catches your gaze, hand coming up to pull harshly at your cheek, bringing you sharply and painfully back to the present.

"ACK! Vin!!"

"Dipshit."

"Go AWAY!"

One hand still tugging at your cheek, Vin leans in so close that you can see your own grimace of pain reflected back on his sunglasses.

"If anyone is still bullying you, tell me and I'll make them puke all night."

Still looking after you as he did back then too. He really hasn't changed.