#that brings up an even worse host of problems.

[snaileer]

Danny sighs. Wanting to get up and pace. But he was on the bus. And you can’t pace on the bus unless you’re a crazy person.

Which…. would not look good considering the current circumstances.

He could always just not get off. That was totally still an option. He could just keep going. Maybe ride to Old Gotham. Go get pasta or a deli sandwich.

The ‘Stop Requested’ sign dinged.

The bus looped back around to his dorm apartment anyways. He didn’t have to get off.

Ah frick this was his.

Danny’s hand pulls the bus cord against his permission. Oh ancients too late now, he has to get off or the other people will think he’s rude for pulling the cord and not leaving.

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He can do this

Danny resisted the urge to shake his hands and jump in place as he waited for the doors to open.

Pep talk. Pep talk.

Pep talk totally working. Uh huh.

The bus is leaving. Ok. Now it’s really too late.

Danny checks the google map directions again. A 23 minute walk was not bad.

If only the destination wasn’t Arkham Asylum and he wasn’t visiting the Joker with a grieving self-help book.

Really the most important stage here was acceptance.

He started walking.

It hadn’t even originally wanted to bring the book personally but apparently there was a ‘mail ban.’ The book came Jazz recommended anyways so it would have to be worth it.

Danny tried to ignore the ectoplasm thickening in the air like soup as he got closer. Oh this was totally a normal thing to do.

Just convince the megalomaniac murder clown that he’s dead and a ghost and needs to pass on and everything will come out hunky-dory!

Danny gave a fake laugh to himself as he buzzed the entrance button and was let in.

The secretary looked at him like he was crazy when he told her who he was here to see. Which… fair.

He tried to explain that, quite genuinely, he did not want to be here either. But ghosts were kind of his problem ever since the portal and even if this one wasn’t his fault… it didn’t feel right to just let him run wild when Danny knew the problem.

He winced and pretended not to notice as she pressed an alarm button before letting him through the metal detectors and towards the cell.

Yay for armed escorts.

Now here he was. Dodging a self-help paper airplane from the Joker. Danny sighed again.

Why couldn’t ghosts just stay in the Zone?

The Joker is Dead (and always has been)

Danny is attending Gotham U and gets caught up in a Joker escapade and realizes the clown is, in fact, a ghost.

Suddenly everything makes an insane amount of sense: the fact that no one has killed a psycho with seemingly human-normal abilities yet, that Arkham can’t keep him for more than a week, the obsessive behavior, the appearance.

Honestly, Danny should have clocked this before he even met the spook.

And Danny doesn’t want to step on any toes, really. The Bat and the Joker have A Thing going on. But, the Batman just isn’t equipped to really put a ghost away. No wonder there’s a breakout from Arkham every couple of months. How many other Gotham rogues are obsessive ghosts haunting the city?

Joker doesn’t display any of the usual ghost powers he associates with his own “rogues”—who’ve really become more like unwanted relatives over the years what with their dropping in uninvited, making a mess, and then ditching before they had to help clean.

It strikes Danny, as he’s being tied up by the clown-costumed goons, that maybe the Joker doesn’t know.

Huh.

How does he broach the topic in a sensitive way?

“Hey, uh. Not to be rude but… You know you’re dead, right?”

Danny winces. Not like that, probably.

The Clown Prince of Crime stops in front of him, the crazed light in his eyes dimmed slightly by confusion. He glances back and forth between Danny and the students around him who are shying away from their insane classmate. (Which is. Fair.)

A menacing giggle warbles from the specter’s throat. He leans into Danny’s bubble, that eerie grin stretching somehow wider.

“Ohhhh really?” The clown draws it out and Danny can hear the crackle of static in the high notes. Honestly. How did no one figure this out before? “And are you gonna kill me, hmm? Have I got a widdle hero in my bait tank?”

“No, no, I mean, it’s not… you’re not… like? You’re not alive,” Danny rambles, trying to clarify and failing utterly. “You’re already dead.”

The Joker tilts his head, eyes dilating and glowing toxic green. He considers what Danny said, then throws his head back and cackles like a hyena.

The ghost doubles over, even, laughing so hard it sounds like he’s gonna bust something. He puts a white-gloved hand on Danny’s shoulder for support and squeezes, just shy of hurting.

After an uncomfortably long moment, the ghost wipes imaginary tears out of his eyes and pats Danny on the back so hard he stumbles and falls to his knee.

“You’re a riot, kid! If I didn’t have a date already planned…”

He trails off and ambles away, still chuckling and muttering to himself. “And they say I’m crazy! Wait til Bats hears about this!”

Danny watches him go, despondent.

It’s always harder when they don’t know.

This is gonna be a mess.

[senseandaccountability]

the narrative that could have been

Having mulled over the game for a couple of days I have realised that the main problem for me is that Veilguard is good based on the premises they ultimately choose, but not based on the set up and promise of what was there before. I know this isn’t a unique take by any means and yes it’s all about the Evanuris and the Veil and Solas. 

Replaying really emphasises how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative. 

The game actually gives no explanation whatsoever as to why the Veil coming down would be worse than what Rook causes in the beginning and what the escaped gods then do to the entire Thedas. The entire south falls to the Blight because Elgar’nan and Ghilan'nain are let loose. The Wardens are more or less wiped out. There’s enormous political turmoil. The game gives us Solas saying “thousands” would die when he brought the Veil down, but that he had a host of spirits there to help. (Yes, I know, his sole function in this game is to Trick and Deceive so who is to say if he’s lying, HUH, but even so, THE ENTIRE SOUTH FALLS TO THE BLIGHT IN ROOK’S VERSION OF THINGS.)

The game puts emphasis on Solas's questionable methods and past horrors but it doesn't ever explain why his goals are despicable here and now. It doesn't convince us that tearing down the Veil with lots of safety measures in place and after considerations is a bad result, all things considered - save for Varric’s initial yelling about demons. (We even learned in DAI that the Veil itself creates demons because it restricts the passage of spirits, come on.) Because three games have suggested it's not, not ultimately. Trespasser especially nuances this, just as it nuances Solas’s view of this current world state. Right after his long nap he would have nuked it all, I’m sure, but the whole point of character arcs is that things happen in them and what happened to him is that he was shown layers and angles he had not considered and adjusted his mindset and ultimately his plan accordingly. That is where DAV should have picked it up. That's where the build up was headed. But, now he must serve the narrative solely as the God of Treachery and Lies which means that previous build up is washed away for the most part. (In no way do I think he is OOC in DAV, I just want to point that out so nobody thinks I’m a sappy fangirl or whatever. I think he is perfectly in tune with his inner Dread Wolf, but that is also all he gets to be, because of the narrative, and I’m always much more interested in when roles and personas clash.) Again. The main problem is that the narrative cannot explain why bringing down the Veil would be the worse option than the shit we see unfold on screen. Instead it gets a bit lost in the past.  And I have Issues with that, as well.  Like, the dumbing down of the war against the Evanuris. The war that started because the leaders of the rebellion - who previously had to carry out terrible orders so the Evanuris, the upper crust of the Elvhenan, could play gods - decided that the Evanuris was a threat to them all. And the game gives us what, a depiction of how the rebellion ended up crossing lines, too? No shit.

Like, I am fully on board with the individual theme of regret on Solas’s part and he ought to be wrecked with guilt but I wish the game could be less all over the place with what sort of things he ought to be wrecked with guilt over. Saying fuck you to the Evanuris is the best and brightest of his character, I suppose I just don't want it dragged down to the same level as him breaking the Titans. I suppose I would have wished for a narrative that also worked on a systemic level when depicting things like, you know, war and revolutions and subjugation. But we don't have that, because DAV is only about personal choices. The Lighthouse crew flippantly writing the hierarchical and violent power struggle off as being about love and betrayal is on my shitlist forever. 

No, Taash et al, it was not about pussy, it was about feeling compelled by superiors to commit heinous war crimes and being lied to about the actual purposes of your damn war in the first place. The elves shouting at Elgar’nan and Mythal in this painting aren’t driven by love and sex they have been lied to by their ruling class. It was never about freedom or ending the wars, it was always about Elgar’nan jerking off to ultimate godhood. The writing even suggests betrayal here is to be understood as Netflix drama betrayal, maybe some juicy porny plot but it’s ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF THE ELVES BY THEIR OWN KIN.  ((ETA: I would have wanted my Dalish mage to be allowed to be furious, NOT WITH SOLAS, but with the fucking Evanuris for betraying her people and being so fucking vile that the only option that remained was to create a world where she's a second-class citizen. I would have wanted the game to recognize that not all causes are equal and that Elgar'nan's cause for godhood was objectively more vile than Solas's cause for freedom because as it stands now, there are some really iffy vibes of "both sides are equally bad" and other things authorities tend to say when comparing destructive regimes with uprisings.)) I’m sorry, this shit hits me on a personal and political rage level. 

I also can’t help but mourn a game where the Trickster God fulfilled his trope’s duty and shook the stagnation apart with his actions - for good or ill, the way trickster gods are wont to do - and where Rook was tricked into helping and then, a more complex game about its consequences could have unfolded. The Evanuris could still have been the bad guys, if they wanted big villains frothing at the mouth. There could still have been numerous unplanned consequences, like all of Solas's plans have. Maybe other ancients awake as well. Maybe ancient evils who aren’t elves, who knows. Point is - the Veil should have come down, at least in some form, at least in some outcome. THAT is what they've been building up to. In this game that never was, Rook could be an actual interesting character where we could mold her as either accepting of this trickster role (which fits perfectly for a blank slate with no ties) or set to overturn it and enforce status quo, with some vanilla option in the middle. Maybe the Veil doesn’t come down until the very end of the game, ancient magic takes time after all, maybe a lot has happened by then. But ultimately, Rook’s choice in the end should not have been about siding against Solas because he’s lying to you or because he did horrible things in the past or siding with him because you want him redeemed. The narrative should have provided those options either way. The narrative should have been brave enough to suggest that hey, maybe Solas isn't wrong at all - his methods maybe, but his goal, no. If they truly wanted mirrors between Rook and Solas, Rook should have tackled the issue of actively bringing down the Veil herself, not because it's a roses and sunshine-outcome but because it might very well be the lesser of two evils. Gods, that would have been interesting. It should have been a choice about what sort of world Rook and the Veilguard wants to see in the future. It should have been about the people, the world, not how angry Rook is that an ancient elf has tricked her. 

That would have been the game I wanted to play.  This story doesn't really give anything new to the world of Thedas, which a world without the Veil would have. It accomplishes closure for our favourite trickster god and bless them for that, but as for the plot and the world-building it ends on a meh because the narrative isn't about the people unless they're brought up as being endangered. This is why I can feel satisfaction regarding the thematic conclusion to certain character arcs, the trickster becomes the healer with the bloodiest hands, the wolf submits willingly to his trap and so on and so forth, and I can have fun with the characters and their arcs but also really mourn the game that was there, in subtext and build up over three previous games and in several tie-ins.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Heartfelt Deception

Law x reader (she/her)

Modern AU, fake-dating, friends-to-lovers, like one swear word.

Summary: Law asked you to attend a charity event his hospital is hosting as his fake girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough, it’s happening on Valentine’s Day.

Words: 7.5k

Notes: For the Valentine’s Week event. I had this whole fake dating-to-hospital event idea for the ficmas event, but I scrapped it because I didn’t have much time to write it then. I’m so glad I did, though, because I think the story turned out much better for Valentine’s Day than it would have for Christmas.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Dr. Trafalgar Law was pacing back and forth in the small office of the hospital. His fingers drummed anxiously against the table as he read the charity event invitation for the fifth time, each glance making his pulse race a little faster.

The truth was, Law never liked events like this. Fundraisers, speeches, fake smiles—it all made him itch with discomfort. His introverted nature clashed with the expectations of being a ‘people person’ in the medical field, and the last thing he wanted was to attend an event where everyone would be looking at him.

A month ago, during yet another relentless round of coworkers begging him to attend an after-work gathering, Law had casually mentioned that he had plans. But instead of letting it go, they kept pressing, demanding to know why he was always declining invitations. Frustrated, he blurted out that he needed to spend time with his girlfriend. Before he could even think, the hospital buzzed with talk about his mysterious partner, one no one had ever met. Now, he was cornered into bringing his partner to the hospital's prestigious charity gala on Valentine’s Day. The irony wasn’t lost on him—his colleagues were all too eager to point out how fitting it was to host an event focused on heart issues on a day devoted to hearts.

As one of the hospital’s top cardiac surgeons, Law was expected to be a key speaker. Worse still, he was supposed to bring his girlfriend. But the problem? He didn’t have one.

There was only one person he could turn to—you.

“You want me to do what?!” you asked, your eyes wide with shock, your coffee cup momentarily forgotten in your hand.

He sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “I need you to go with me to that stupid gala as my girlfriend.”

Your brow furrowed as you set the cup down. “You're serious?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

“Why would you make up a girlfriend just to avoid gatherings?” you shot back, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed. “You could’ve just said you weren’t interested in going.”

He gazed down at the table, clearly agitated, his fingers tapping against the surface in a nervous rhythm. “It’s not that simple. I’ve already turned them down too many times. They won’t leave me alone. And now I’m expected to show up—with a date. It’s just… ridiculous.”

You leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, as you considered his words. “Why not just say you broke up recently?”

“Because it’s obvious. Then I lose that excuse for the future,” he said, picking up his cup and drinking from it.

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap your head around the absurdity of it all. “So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, just so you can avoid more gatherings down the line?”

“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

You shook your head, unable to help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’re ridiculous. When is this supposed to happen?”

“February 14th,” he replied, avoiding your gaze.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Valentine’s Day?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they thought they were being so clever with that one.”

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, is this your way of asking me to be your Valentine?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Who’s being ridiculous now?” But then, with a sly smirk, he added, “So… you’re in?”

A long pause hung in the air as you considered his request. The idea of pretending to be his girlfriend was insane, yes. Pretending to be someone’s girlfriend���for Valentine’s Day, no less—was the kind of thing you’d laugh about in a bad rom-com. But the look on his face was impossible to ignore. Desperation, tinged with just enough pride to keep him from outright begging.

Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms as if it might shield you from the insanity you were about to agree to. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this.”

“Don’t worry,” The smirk on his face widened, and you wondered what exactly you’d just gotten yourself into. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

And with that, you sealed your fate.

The day of the event had finally arrived. Law was at your door, punctual as always, ready to pick you up just as you'd arranged. He stood there, dressed impeccably—his sharp suit tailored to perfection, exuding confidence and elegance. You tried your hardest not to stare too much, but it was impossible not to notice how effortlessly he pulled it all off.

“Ready?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

“Just a moment,” you replied, your voice betraying your hesitation as you moved closer to the mirror. You needed to make sure everything was just right. You were dressed in the outfit that made you feel good about yourself and was fitting for such an event. Yet, despite all the preparation, a knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. The idea of pretending to be Law's girlfriend made you nervous, no matter how hard you tried to pretend it did not. 

He sighed when you took your sweet time. “Can you stop checking yourself out?”

You glanced at him, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry for making sure people won’t judge your taste too much…” you grumbled, half-amused, half-defensive.

He scoffed as he moved closer, looking at you in the mirror. “Like I care what people think.” Then, with a pause, he added, his voice quieter, almost… sincere, “Besides, you look… stunning.”

You froze for a moment, surprised by his words. “Really?”

“Yes,” he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His gaze softened, and you swore you saw a hint of admiration there.

“Um, thanks. And… you look amazing too.”

He cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable but trying to hide it. “Let’s just go, shall we?” 

“You're sure this will work, right?” Law muttered as he turned to face you. 

“Yes, it’ll work.” You flashed a confident grin, trying to reassure him, though you were just as uncertain as he was. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

“Well, I can’t believe you made up a girlfriend in the first place,” you shot back. “But here we are.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face again, not sure whether to laugh or groan. It was one thing to get himself into this mess, but dragging you in was entirely a different matter. The pressure was mounting on both of you. Could you really pull this off? 

Then you caught his eye. A speck of humor, a spark of something you couldn’t quite place, passed between you, and at that moment, you knew you could. Maybe this absurd charade wasn’t as impossible as it seemed.

He let out a long breath and straightened his posture, his decision made. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way, then,” you replied, your tone playful, despite the nerves you were still trying to suppress.

He gave a curt nod, opening the door and holding it for you. With that, you stepped into the venue. The Valentine’s Day theme was apparent everywhere— pink and red lighting bathed the space, heart-shaped centerpieces adorned every table, and a live jazz band played romantic melodies in the background. You looked over at him and snorted seeing his expression.

“I take it Valentine’s Day isn’t your favorite holiday?” you teased, leaning just close enough so he could hear without anyone else catching on.

Law’s gaze flickered to you, his brow arching slightly. “What gave it away?” he said dryly, expending his arm to you.

“Oh, just a hunch,” you said, slipping your hands through his arm. “You’re doing great, though. Really selling the whole ‘romantic evening’ thing.”

Law’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that told you he wasn’t entirely immune to your teasing. “I’m thrilled you think so,” he muttered as he led you through the crowd. You caught glimpses of the people who had been whispering about Law's relationship for weeks. Their eyes fell on you both with curiosity.

“Dr. Trafalgar!” one of the nurses called out, waving excitedly. Her eyes brightened as they shifted to you. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Law’s face remained neutral. “Yes,” he answered smoothly and introduced you.

The nurse let out a little squeal of delight. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed. “We’ve all been dying to know more about Dr. Trafalgar’s mysterious girlfriend.”

You smiled politely, taking the opportunity to slip into the role. “It's a pleasure to meet you, too. He talks a lot about his team,” you said lightly, with a little twinkle in your eye as you looked at Law. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

The nurse beamed. “Oh, I'm sure he does,” she said, her eyes still sparkling as she switched her gaze from you to Law. “It’s rare to see him… charming.” Her voice dropped to a playful whisper, though it was clear she wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. “We always wondered what kind of woman could put up with him.”

You gave a small, modest laugh, sensing the opportunity to keep the conversation flowing. “He’s not as difficult as he looks.” You turned to Law, giving him a teasing glance. “And I'm quite lucky he let me in.”

Law’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with his usual impassive expression. “Enough about me,” he said smoothly, redirecting the conversation. “Let’s get you something to drink.” He turned toward the drink table, eager to move on.

As the two of you moved through the gala, a sense of ease settled between you. The people who approached were friendly, curious, and all too eager to meet the mysterious woman who had somehow captured the heart of the elusive surgeon. Law, as always, seemed somewhat distant, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, as if the weight of the event was just a little lighter with you by his side.

“Well, well, if it isn't the lovely girlfriend!” Shachi grinned, giving you a dramatic bow before standing up straight again. “You look awesome.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Shachi. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Penguin let out a low, amused chuckle from behind him. “Yeah, well, Law’s been talking about you for weeks,” he added. “He was so worried about you not showing up and ruining his perfect plan. I’m surprised you agreed to it, honestly.”

You gave Penguin a knowing smile. “What can I say? Someone had to save his ass.” You winked at Law, who stood beside you, his expression neutral, but you caught the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Shachi leaned casually against the table, clearly enjoying himself, and turned to Law with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, how does it feel to finally have a real girlfriend? I mean, I’ve been hearing rumors about this for a while, but you’re actually pulling it off, huh?”

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t respond immediately, though you could tell he was trying to keep his cool. “This will be a long night,” he muttered under his breath, but his friends were far too eager to let him off the hook.

Shachi’s grin only grew wider. “I’m just curious—how’s the ‘relationship’ going so far?” He looked at Law, whose jaw was tight, trying to suppress his frustration. “Any sparks flying between the two of you yet?”

“Shachi,” Law said in warning, but he wasn’t listening. Law rolled his eyes, though there was a slight curve to his lips, as if even he couldn’t help but be somewhat entertained by his friends' antics. “I told you I didn’t need this kind of commentary tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shachi continued, entirely ignoring Law’s attempts to rein him in. “But it’s so much more fun when we do comment.” He threw an arm around Penguin’s shoulder, giving him an exaggerated nudge. “So, Dr. Trafalgar, how’s it feel having your friends finally meet your ‘girlfriend’? You seem so… happy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their behaviour. “I’m sure Law’s thrilled by all the attention,” you said, playing the part, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Law cast you a sideways glance, but there was something warmer in his eyes than before. “Let’s just get through tonight, shall we?” he said, attempting his best authoritative tone, though there was a clear undertone of amusement, as if he was enjoying it just a little more than he let on.

Just as the playful back-and-forth was beginning to die down, a loud, familiar voice cut through the chatter from across the room.

“YOOO! Look who it is!” 

Usopp’s boisterous voice rang out, and you barely had time to brace yourself before he was at your side, grinning like a mischievous cat. He was joined by Kaya, who was absolutely stunning in an elegant dress, her eyes sparkling as she waved.

Shit. How had you not considered the possibility that Usopp would be here? Kaya was a nurse at the same hospital as Law, and of course, she’d bring him as her plus-one.

“Usopp, Kaya,” you greeted with a smile, trying to remain composed despite the sudden attention being drawn your way. Usopp's loud voice had already caused a ripple of curiosity to spread through the crowd.

Usopp’s gaze darted between you and Law. “Wait a minute… what are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough for the people around you to overhear, making you feel the weight of every set of eyes now shifting in your direction.

You glanced at Law, who was now wearing a mask of calm—though you could tell by the subtle shift in his posture that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation. You quickly shot him an apologetic look, trying to keep things as casual as possible. “Isn't it obvious — I’m with Law,” you said with a playful shrug, hoping your tone would deflect any suspicion and begging to whatever higher power that Usopp won't blow your cover. 

Usopp blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief, as if you’d just dropped a bombshell. “With Law?!” His voice jumped an octave, loud enough to draw even more attention, and you felt the heat of a dozen curious stares. Your stomach churned as the pressure mounted.

“Well yeah, we’re dating,” you said quickly, trying to offer him a pointed look that screamed for him to lower his voice. You didn’t look forward to clearing that lie later, though.

“What?!” Usopp exclaimed again, louder this time, and you fought the urge to physically drag him into a quieter corner.

“Oh, for fuck's sake, don't be so loud,” you hissed, resisting the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth. You just needed him to stop.

Your words earned a sharp exhale from Law, who was now standing as still as a statue, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with irritation. Though his face remained unreadable to most, you could detect the flicker of unease behind his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Usopp sharp eye for detail and relentless curiosity meant he was undoubtedly piecing things together in real-time, and the last thing you needed was for him to say something he really shouldn't.

Kaya, sensing the tension, stepped in smoothly. “Usopp,” she said, with a small but knowing smile, “maybe we should let them enjoy the night.” She gently nudged his arm, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s good to see you both. I hope you’re having a good time tonight.”

You nodded, relieved by her intervention. “We’re managing,” you replied before gesturing toward her. “And you? How’s the night treating you so far?”

She laughed. “Oh, it’s been lovely. Usopp keeps insisting he’s the best plus-one anyone could ask for.”

“Because I am!” Usopp interjected, puffing out his chest.

“Nah, I'm way better, right, darling?” you asked playfully, turning to your date. 

Law let out a quiet, measured sigh, his eyes narrowing at Usopp, who was still watching far too intently for comfort. Recognizing that all eyes were now firmly on the two of you, he shifted gears seamlessly. 

Without missing a beat, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you a fraction closer. His hand rested lightly yet possessively against your side as he glanced at you with a smirk.  “Obviously.” 

The gesture—and his confident tone—left Usopp momentarily speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Even Kaya seemed surprised, her eyes darting between the two of you before a knowing smile tugged at her lips.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, both at Law’s quick thinking and the way his response had effectively silenced any further speculation from Usopp.  “See?” you teased lightly. “Told you.”

Usopp opened his mouth, ready to say something outrageous, but Kaya quickly stepped in, tugging on his arm with a bright laugh. “Come on, Usopp. Let’s grab some appetizers.” 

“This isn’t over,” he commented, but he allowed Kaya to steer him toward the other end of the room.

“That was close,” you muttered, glancing up at Law. His hand was still resting lightly on your waist.

He tilted his head down toward .you, “You call that close?”

“Oh, come on,” you whispered back with a grin. “You’ve got to admit, Usopp almost blew it.”

Law’s lips quirked upward. “Almost,” he conceded. Then, lowering his voice  even more and murmuring into your ear, he added, “But I don’t mind setting the record straight when needed.”

The way his voice dipped sent a small shiver down your spine, but you quickly composed yourself, stepping slightly closer to him under the pretense of hearing him better.

“Well, you handled it like a pro, Dr. Trafalgar,” you teased softly, leaning just enough to let your words reach his ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed noncommittally.

Before you could respond, the event coordinator’s voice echoed through the hall, announcing the upcoming speeches. The room shifted as the crowd began to find their seats, murmurs of anticipation filling the air.

“You’re up soon,” you reminded him. Reaching out, you placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You’ve got this,” you said confidently.

He glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a beat, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe just the comfort of familiarity—before he nodded, a small but grateful gesture. “Thanks.”

As he made his way toward the stage, you couldn’t help but watch him with a sense of pride, your heart swelling with admiration. Even surrounded by the polished elegance of the event and the watchful eyes of so many people, he carried himself with an unshakable determination.

When he reached the podium, the crowd fell silent. He cleared his throat, taking a moment before launching into the speech. He spoke about the advancements in medicine, the importance of community support, and the life-changing surgeries that the hospital’s team performed. But when he mentioned his team and thanked everyone for their hard work, his gaze subtly flickered toward you.

For a moment, he dropped the cold exterior. “None of this would be possible without the support of everyone here,” he said. “And a special thanks to my friends and…my better half, who has been my constant rock. It’s easy to get lost in the hospital. But she keeps me grounded.”

The sincerity in his words was unmistakable. His eyes lingered on you for a fraction of a second—long enough for you to feel the weight of his gratitude—before he looked away, the professional composure sliding back into place effortlessly.

The applause that followed was thunderous, but you barely heard it over the warmth blooming in your chest. As Law stepped down from the podium, his expression was back to its usual stoicism, but the slight flush to his cheeks and the quick glance he shot your way told you everything.

As the applause slowly died down, Law made his way back toward you, weaving through the clusters of guests who offered him brief nods and congratulatory remarks. His posture was relaxed, but you could see the faint tension in the set of his shoulders—a clear sign that he was bracing for your inevitable teasing.

When he finally reached you, you wasted no time, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “For someone who wanted to ‘get through the night,’ you sure know how to captivate an audience,” you teased. “And what was that about ‘the one who keeps me grounded’? Are you getting sentimental on me?”

He stopped in front of you, hands sliding casually into his pockets as his eyes met yours. “Don’t start,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone. “I said what needed to be said.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “So, I’m just ‘what needed to be said’ now?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dipping to a hushed tone meant only for you. “If you’d prefer, I can take it all back.”

“Not a chance,” you shot back, unable to keep the playful edge out of your voice. “It’s on record now. Everyone here knows I’m the one keeping you grounded.”

Before he could respond, Shachi and Penguin appeared, clearly having caught at least part of the exchange. Shachi was grinning ear to ear, while Penguin’s expression held a more subdued amusement.

“That speech was something else,” Shachi said, clapping Law on the back with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Especially that part about being grounded. You’re getting soft.”

Law’s glare shifted to Shachi, though it lacked any real venom. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” he asked, his voice dry.

“Not when you’re providing this much entertainment,” Shachi shot back without missing a beat.

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t bother responding, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, he turned his attention back to you. “Are you enjoying yourself yet?” he asked

You pretended to consider his question, tapping a finger to your chin. “Hmm... between the impromptu Usopp interrogation, the surprise shout-out during your speech, and Shachi’s relentless commentary?” You grinned. “Yeah, I’d say I’m having a great time.”

Law exhaled sharply, but there was a brief twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Good,” he sighed. “At least one of us is.”

Just as you were forming your response, the event coordinator approached the two of you. “Dr. Trafalgar, your presence is requested for some photos with the donors,” she said, her gaze flicking to you briefly. “And, of course, your lovely girlfriend is welcome to join.”

Law hesitated, his eyes narrowing. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons of dragging you into yet another spotlight moment.

You decided to save him the trouble. “We’d be happy to,” you said smoothly, looping your arm through his. “Right, darling?”

The look he shot you was nothing short of murderous, but you only smiled sweetly, patting his arm as the coordinator led you both toward the photographer’s setup.

After the photos, you wandered back to the main room, weaving through the crowd. You spotted Usopp and Kaya near the dessert table, Usopp animatedly telling a story while Kaya giggled beside him. Heart-shaped chocolates and delicate pastries adorned the table, and you decided to grab a couple of treats before heading back to your corner of the room.

“Here,” you said, holding out a piece of chocolate to Law as you both settled near the bar.

He eyed it skeptically. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate,” you replied, popping one into your mouth. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re supposed to eat chocolate. It’s practically a rule.”

Law sighed, but he took the chocolate from your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly in the exchange. He bit into it. “It’s good,” he admitted after a moment.

You smirked. “See? Valentine’s Day isn’t all bad.”

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

Despite the occasional hiccup—like Usopp’s not-so-subtle attempts to sneak more information out of you—it was hard to deny that you and Law actually did have a great time. The whole evening felt surprisingly natural, even with the added touches and pet names that came with playing your part.

But as the night went on, the carefully constructed charade began to blur, leaving you to wonder if there was something genuine simmering beneath the surface. A fleeting warmth in the way he looked at you, a brush of his hand that lingered just a moment too long. You quickly shook the thought away before it could root itself further.

“You know,” you started, breaking the silence, “Usopp already texted everyone the news.”

Law’s brow furrowed as he glanced at you. “What news?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

“Oh. Right,” he said, the realization dawning on his face.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, crossing your arms. “I had to turn my sound off completely—the group chat went insane.”

Law let out a quiet groan and reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with a resigned air. He turned the phone toward you, revealing a string of increasingly enthusiastic messages from Luffy:

This is amaizing!!!!

I'M SO HAPPY!!!

GOOD FOR YOU!!!

WHEN DID THIS HAPEN??

Tell me evrything RIGHT NOW!!!

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as you read the flood of texts. Law pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how ridiculous Luffy was, but the small, reluctant smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Looks like someone’s excited for us,” you teased, still laughing.

Law rolled his eyes, though the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks. “Luffy’s always excited about something. This’ll blow over. We will explain it later or something.”

You swallowed your disappointment and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that today was not as real as it seemed. Your eyes drifted forward just as the band started playing a slow, romantic tune, and couples began rushing toward the dance floor. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down, the atmosphere practically begging for you to make a move.

“Well, darling,” you said, extending your hand toward him with an exaggerated flourish. “Care to dance?”

Law stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between incredulous and amused. “You’re joking.”

“Not even a little,” you wiggled your fingers at him. “It’s Valentine’s Day. What’s a fake relationship without a dance under the romantic lighting?”

He let out a quiet groan but took your hand anyway, his grip firm and steady. As he led you to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt.

For a moment, you both moved hesitantly, as if testing the waters. Law wasn’t one to engage in things like this—public displays of affection, no matter how fake, didn’t exactly come naturally to him. Yet, as the rhythm of the music settled between you, his movements became smoother, more confident. You matched his pace, the two of you falling into an unspoken synchrony.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a great time.”

You chuckled, your fingers instinctively tightening their grip on his shoulder. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re surprisingly good at this.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Surprisingly?”

“Well,” you said with a smile, “you don’t exactly scream ‘slow-dance enthusiast.’

Law huffed, but there was no real irritation behind it. He was paying more attention to the way your body moved in sync with his, the way you shifted your weight with each step.

The scent of his cologne was subtle but intoxicating, and the way his eyes stayed locked on yours made it impossible to look away.

“This isn’t so bad,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” you said, your thumb gently brushing the fabric of his suit jacket.  “I know this isn’t exactly your scene. Thanks for humoring me.”

For a moment, something shifted in his expression. The guardedness that usually defined him seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, something unspoken. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer, and the distance between you narrowed until you could feel the subtle brush of his chest against yours.

“You’re doing all of this for me, the least I can do is survive dancing for your sake,” he answered in his usual manner, and yet, it sounded somehow warmer. Then he added teasingly, “darling”

You tried to diminish how much you loved that nickname coming from his lips.

As the music faded, applause broke out around the room, snapping you back to reality. Law stepped back a little, his hand falling away from your waist, but the warmth of his touch stayed. He looked at you for a moment longer, his gaze searching, before he cleared his throat and glanced away, the mask of composure slipping back into place.

“Let’s get off the dance floor,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. But there was a faint flush to his cheeks that you couldn’t ignore.

“Not bad for someone who doesn’t like Valentine’s Day,” you teased, keeping your tone light, even though your heartbeat had quickened as you followed him off the dancefloor.

Law’s pace remained steady, his hands tucked casually into his pockets as his amber eyes met yours. “I never said I didn’t like it. Just that it’s… unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” You arched a brow, tilting your head. “Celebrating love and connection? That sounds pretty necessary to me.”

His grin grew. “If you need a commercial holiday to remind you of that, you’re doing something wrong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness. “Touché,” you admitted, the moment feeling strangely intimate despite the dozens of other couples around you. He put his hand on your back and gently led you to sit down in the corner. You sat in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“So, are you enjoying the night yet? Or are you still counting down the minutes until it’s over?”

Law let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m surviving,” he replied dryly, though the corners of his lips twitched as though he couldn’t fully keep the amusement from showing. “If I’m being honest, it’s… not as bad as I thought it would be,” he sounded sheepish as he added. “Your presence makes it more bearable.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned in slightly, your cheek brushing his shoulder. You felt him stiffen for a split second, but then he relaxed, putting his head on yours.

“I didn’t think I’d be… enjoying it,” he continued, his fingers brushing through your hair as if absentmindedly. “But I think I might’ve been wrong.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, finding his gaze already locked on yours. There was no mask of indifference now—just a rare moment of vulnerability, one that you hadn’t often seen. It was disarming. His hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers.

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly, and you were unsure of what to say, or even if you should say anything at all. The quiet, unspoken understanding between you was enough.

“Well, well, well! Look at you two, all cozy!”

It was Shachi, followed closely by Penguin, and some other colleagues of Law from the hospital.  You froze for a split second, pulling away from Law just as his hand dropped from your cheek. Both of you turned toward the intruder, finding a group of Law’s colleagues standing a few feet away.

One of the surgeons, a tall man with a broad grin, chuckled as he shook his head. “Honestly, Law, I didn’t think you were the type to be so… affectionate.” 

Law’s face immediately shifted to that calm, composed mask he wore so well, but you could see the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. He scoffed. “What did you expect? For me to keep five feet away from someone I care about?”

“We’re just surprised,” the nurse you spoke with first today, smiled softly at the two of you. “But it’s nice to see you so… relaxed. We don’t usually get to see this side of you.” Her tone wasn’t mocking; instead, it held a kind, almost approving quality.

It was clear that they all weren’t just teasing for the sake of teasing—they were happy to see him like this. This side of Law, the one who didn’t always hide behind his usual walls, was a rare sight for most people.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Law muttered, trying to keep the situation under control while simultaneously not looking entirely displeased.

As if she couldn’t resist, one of the younger doctors, smirked at you and asked, “So, come on, how did you two get together? Law didn’t want to say a word about it.” Her grin widened as she leaned in, waiting for some kind of juicy story.

You chuckled, glancing at Law, who raised an eyebrow at you as if daring you to come up with an appropriate response.

“Of course he didn’t.” You nudged him playfully. “He’s never been the type to spill the details, has he?”

“Come on, Law,” Shachi prodded. “We’re dying to know the real story.”

“Well,” you interjected. “If you're looking for something juicy, I’m afraid I have to disappoint. We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.” It seemed like a story that could be real, that would suit you both, and what kind of people you are together.

“That’s actually a pretty decent story, considering how tight-lipped you’ve been, Law,” he remarked.

Law shot him a sidelong glance. “I’m not in the habit of sharing my private life with everyone.”

The woman with long hair, delighted by the revelation, nudged Shachi playfully. “Well, it’s good to know Law isn’t entirely immune to matters of the heart. Who knew?” she said with a wink, enjoying the rare opportunity to see her usually composed colleague looking so flustered.

“I never said I was,” Law replied, though there was a faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now. His fingers brushed briefly against yours as he shifted, the touch so fleeting it could have been accidental.

You beamed at him, savoring the fact that, despite his usual reticence, he hadn’t shut down the conversation.

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” you turned to the group, “any more questions?

“Not if you want to keep your secrets,” Shachi teased. “I think we’ve learned enough for tonight.”

“Although…” Penguin started, his grin widening as he rubbed his chin in exaggerated thought.

“Alright, alright,” Law interjected, probably scared that more question may blow your cover. “You’ve had your fun.”

The playful banter continued for a few more moments, with the group lightheartedly poking fun at Law, but without pushing too far. It was clear they were genuinely enjoying seeing him in a different light. Even you couldn't help but express delight at how the evening had turned out.

“Alright,” you said, nudging Law lightly with your elbow, “I think we’ve officially survived the interrogation. How about we grab some drinks and escape before they start asking for our love story in full detail?” you whispered.

“Fine by me,” he stated, standing up and offering you a hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

You took his hand, your fingers curling around his with ease. He led you both to the bar and ordered your drinks. When you took them, you found seats nearby.

“They have a point, you know,” you commented, leaning back in your seat, sipping your drink. “You’re surprisingly sweet with me.”

“Don’t start,” he warned, though there was no bite to his words.

“I’m just saying, the way you act tonight—” you paused, letting the words linger in the air, “it’s… kind of adorable.”

“You’re walking a fine line,” he murmured, his tone just low enough that only you could hear, and there was that familiar spark of challenge in it.

You grinned. “I think the real question is, why do you make it so easy for me to tease you?” You leaned back again, propping your elbow on the armrest, your eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Maybe I’m onto something.”

“You’re lucky I don’t have a stronger reaction to you, or I’d make sure you regret that.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the hint of seriousness in his voice. “Oh? Is that a threat, Law?” you asked, half-challenging, half-curious.

He leaned in just slightly, his gaze softening but still intense. “Only if you push your luck too far,” he replied. It was supposed to be a warning, and yet it sounded way…warmer. You felt the air shift between you, the playful tone fading into something more subtle.

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter from across the room caught your attention, and you noticed some of Law’s colleagues still milling about, their eyes frequently darting toward the two of you. They probably thought their glances were subtle, but they really weren’t.

“Wanna bet they’re talking about us?”

Law smirked, his eyes flicking toward the group before returning to you. “I’m not betting against something that is 100% true.”

You chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips as you watched them huddle together in hushed conversation, clearly intrigued by the dynamic between the two of you. The whole thing was both amusing and oddly satisfying, considering how little effort you'd actually put into keeping this charade together.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence with a light tone, “what now? Do we stick around and continue surviving this ‘unnecessary’ holiday, or do we make our grand exit?”

“I think we’ve done enough, surviving for one night,” he declared, standing and offering his hand to you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

You took his hand, your fingers wrapping around his with the familiar ease. “I like the sound of that.” 

As you made your way toward the exit, you said your goodbyes to everyone, your eyes catching a few lingering, amused stares from Law's colleagues.

“Well, I think we’ve both survived tonight, haven’t we?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing look, trying to gauge his mood as you stepped outside.

“I suppose we have,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Though, I’m not sure what’s worse—the questions or your teasing.”

You laughed lightly, squeezing his hand gently. “I think you can handle both.”

���Apparently,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a gesture that was almost imperceptible but undeniably intimate.

Instead of calling for a taxi, Law started leading you toward the nearby park. You certainly didn’t mind the extra time with him—after the whirlwind of the evening, the peaceful solitude of the park felt like a perfect escape.

When you reached a bench by a small pond, Law sat down, and you followed suit, the two of you settling next to each other. For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It felt like the perfect continuation of the night—no more questions, no more performances, just the two of you.

“Thank you.”

You gazed at him, surprised by the unexpected gratitude in his tone. “You're welcome,” you replied casually, the corners of your lips lifting just slightly. “I had fun.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” you answered, your grin widening a little. “Did you?”

“I did actually.”

“Good” you said simply. “You know now that they’ll just bother and tease you about me, right?” you added teasingly after a moment.

He gave you a side-glance, his expression unreadable at first, but something in his gaze softened as it lingered on you. “I can survive that.”

You sat in silence, the quiet comfortable, with your hand still intertwined with his, even though there was no one around that you had to pretend for.

After a while, Law spoke quietly, “That story…” 

“Huh?” You blinked, trying to recall what he might be referring to.

“About how we apparently came to be… you made it quite believable.” You suddenly remembered your words from earlier: We were just good friends for quite a while before it just clicked that there’s more and there’s no running from it. So, with a kiss, we sealed the deal, and are together just like that.

“Well…um, it sounded plausible, did it not?” you said, as you tried to brush off the nerves creeping up.

“It did.” Silence fell again, but this time, it felt different. You wrecked your head as to what to say. You looked at him, hoping for something to break the tension, and found him already focused solely on you. The intensity of it made it harder to find the right words.

But you didn’t have to say anything—his lips found yours in a tender kiss, slow and gentle, as if testing the waters for something deeper. The world around you seemed to fade away as you leaned into the kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. The moment felt suspended in time, perfect in its simplicity.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting against your cheek, you noticed a subtle smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was the kind of smile that made your chest tighten, the kind that carried a quiet promise, and the warmth that spread through you was more than just the remnants of the kiss.

“Well, that solidifies that it was all true.”

You heard the familiar voice of Usopp. The sudden intrusion snapped you out of the trance the moment had put you in.

You rolled your eyes, not even glancing in his direction, your focus remaining entirely on Law. “Get lost, Nose-ya. Now,” Law muttered, his voice stern, his gaze unwavering from yours.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Usopp chuckled, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your moment, not when it felt so real, so raw. You kept your focus on Law, and for a few seconds, there was just the two of you again, the world falling away once more.

“So, is my story true then?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, his voice steady but carrying that quiet confidence you’d grown accustomed to.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Can’t believe it happened on Valentine’s Day, after pretending to date for an event.”

“Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all,” he said, the words almost an afterthought. And you couldn’t help but agree as you tugged him closer, your lips finding his in a kiss that was even more intense than the first.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you looked into his eyes, and something settled in your chest—this was just the beginning of something, something you both weren’t willing to let go of. It was there in the way he looked at you, the way he held you close. You could feel it in your bones that whatever this was, it was real. And it was only just starting.

“Maybe you’re right,” you whispered, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Valentine’s Day might not be so bad… when it ends like this.”

He smirked at you. “We’ll see if you still feel that way next year,” he said, the challenge in his voice playful, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his words.

“You wanna fake-date me for Valentine’s Day next year too?”

His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his gaze replaced by something more tender as his hand brushed gently across your cheek. “No,” he responded quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “I want to be with you—for real.”

[targaryenoceans]

ABOUT A GIRL

modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader

notes: based on the song about a girl by nirvana. i don’t know what else to say, but enjoy!! also if you have a request i can do it! and should i do a part two?

summary: you were helaena’s best friend, ever since you guys were little. you were basically apart of the family. but then her brother aegon knocks on your door crying.

warning (s): sad boy aegon, alicent is a bad mother in this, reader is in college, so is aegon & helaena. parent issues, it’s pretty wholesome.

masterlist.

You heard banging on your front door, you sat up groggy looking at your phone to see what time it was.

2:23am

you we’re currently home alone, your parents had taken their much needed vacation, away from you? you didn’t know.

you got out of bed, putting on some shorts and walked downstairs as the frantic knocks on the door began louder and louder. you looked into the peep hole and saw a crying aegon, that was odd.

you were his sister’s best friend, helaena ever since elementary school. the targaryens were a very wealthy family, everyone knew that. you used to have a massive crush on aegon until he began not caring about anyone, throwing himself into smoking, girls, and etc.

you were now in college with helaena, you were majoring in music, something you’d loved since you were little.

aegon had majored in business something his mother had forced him into, following in the targaryen family ways.

helaena’s other brother, aemond was a freshman in college, he mostly kept to himself and you didn’t really see much of him. though you’d seen him bring only one girl home, alys rivers. he had lost one of his eyes due to an accident with his nephew which caused that side of the family distance themselves away.

daeron the youngest brother, was still in highschool. you didn’t know much of him as alicent had sent him oldtown with her side of the family.

you didn’t really have a problem with alicent, you knew she was trying her hardest, especially with aegon. she’d constantly yell at aegon for him for slacking off at school, when he should have been focusing on school.

then their father viserys, like daeron you didn’t really know much of him. he’d been sick and isolated for as long as you’d remember, you’d only see him in events or parties the family hosted, but he seemed to look worse each time.

you wouldn’t say you were distant from aegon, yes you tried to distance yourself from him but he seemed to pop up everywhere. the two of you would bond over music, mostly nirvana as that was his favorite band.

you opened the door, “aegon? what are you doing here? are you okay?” you asked him, seeing his tears and how he struggled to breath.

“can i come in?” aegon gasped out, sobbing even more that he saw your face.

“uh-y-yea..” you nodded, you were still half asleep. you let him in, the man nodded.

aegon walked in and shut the door behind him, wiping the tears from his eyes. he was breathing heavily, almost to the point of having a panic attack.

he walked himself to your kitchen, sitting on one of the stools and putting his head into his hands, he was a wreck. you knew it was probably alicent fault, per usual but it was never this bad.

you let out an exhale and followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter, staring at him cry into his hands.

“i-im sorry for coming here…i-didn’t know where else to go.” he spoke between sobs, his voice was shaky.

you let out a silent yawn, “no, it’s fine..”

after a few seconds aegon’s sobs quieted down, into sniffs. he looked up at you, his eyes were bloodshot and their were visible signs of tears on his cheeks.

“what happened…” i slowly walked into him, hugging yourself, you hadn’t even realized that you were in a tank top and shorts.

aegon let out an exhale, looking down at his hands, which were picked at: a habit he had gained from alicent, helaena had told you. “i-it’s alicent..she found out…i failed first semester of one of my classes….i-she got mad-and yelled at me..and called me a disappointment to the f-family and i was u-useless..that was i was n-no so-son of her-” he stopped mid sentence, sounding as if he was about to cry again.

“aeg….” you whispered, stepping closer to him.

“it-its….she’s just so fucking mean…” aegon let out a sob again, burying his hands in his face again.

you looked at aegon sobbing again. you were almost going to call helaena but she’d probably be sleeping. you’d never see aegon like this ever. you’d normally want to distance yourself away from him, but you couldn’t: not that he was like this.

you stepped to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “it’s okay….” you rubbed his back, trying to give him comfort that he seemed to long for.

aegon didn’t lift his head up, but his sobs got more louder, he was not used to this comfort, his siblings would try and comfort him but that was different.

the comfort with you, he felt a actual comfort with you, he never admit it but…..he liked it. he didn’t want to go back home, he felt safe with you.

“it’s okay…” you whispered again, this time aegon didn’t care if he overstepped it with you, he hugged you, loosely wrapping his arms around your waist.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

aegon had stayed with you that night, slept in your bed. he’d asked to sleep on the couch, but you denied, you felt bad for him and the both of you slept in your king sized bed. you felt guilty almost, helaena was your best friend but you shared a bed with her troubled brother, whom she’d lost many friends because of him.

you opened your eyes, feeling your phone going off. you picked up your phone and saw helaena calling you, you were looked at the screen before you answered her, you knew that aegon hadn’t come home last night, and they probably were asking around.

“hello?” you asked, your voice filled with sleep.

“hey, mom and aegon had a bad fight last night. he left and isn’t back home..do you know where he is?” helaena’s soft voice spoke out, her voice filled with distress, worried for her sibling.

you stayed silent, helaena knew your silence was her answer, you’d been best friends with her for too many years to count. “he came crying to my door last night…” you told her, you couldn’t lie to your best friend, especially not helaena.

there was a sigh of relief, “he’s there? he’s okay?”

“yea…he’s okay.” you sat up, looking at the man on the bed beside you, his eyes were slightly puffy and red around them.

“mom is worried. she thinks he’s dead in a ditch somewhere….can i talk to him?” helaena asked, her soft softer and less distressed.

“he’s asleep, maybe you should come to my house.” you spoke, getting off the bed, and leaving your bedroom.

“i’ll be there in a few.” helaena spoke and ended the call.

you were left in silence again, walking to the living room and sat on the couch.

after a few minutes there was a knock on the door and it opening, helaena had a key to your house. you stood up and walked to her and hugged her.

“i was worried something bad happened to him.” helaena spoke, her face buried in your morning hair.

“i was worried last night, i’d never seen him so upset.” you pulled back from the hug, looking at her.

“yeah…can we go see him? i assume he’s asleep.” helaena spoke, already walking upstairs to where she assumed he was.

you followed her, the stairs creaking as they walked up it. helaena opened your door and saw aegon still asleep, a little drool falling on your bed.

helaena let out a sigh of relief as she saw him and walked to the side of the bed, she shook his shoulder, “aeg?”

aegon groaned in his sleep, and opened his eyes, his eyes slightly red but better than last night, “hel? why are you here?”

“we were worried, we thought something bad happened to you…” helaena sat on the bed.

“i was fine..” aegon sat up, his shirt twisted from sleeping.

“we called you, texted you, even emailed you!” helaena raised her voice, angry and annoyed at him. you stood from the doorway looking at the both of them.

aegon glanced at you, before looking back at his sister. “my phone was dead.”

helaena let out a huff, before hugging her brother. “don’t you ever run away like that again!”

aegon was a little startled by her hug but, hugged her back, closing his eyes.

you watched the siblings hug, you were happy, helaena was the most caring out of all the siblings. you were just worried about what alicent would do or say to him.

[moonsgemini]

don’t delete the kisses - college!rafe

summary: Rafe loses all his confidence when it comes to the girl he’s been pining after for years but maybe her plan to be alone with him will help give him the push he needs. Or maybe the guy that flirts with her and doesn’t take no will be his final straw.

warnings: MUTUAL PINING, fluff, self doubt, alcohol, friends to lovers kinda, college au, semi creepy guy, fem reader, she/her

wc: 4.3k

an: HI FRIENDS!!! guess who’s back fr this fine. I started a very new chapter of my life recently & kinda went through a little depression but I’m doing much better now & much more adjusted. I missed writing sm but I’m a little rusty so uh sorry if it's bad LOL

p.s I turned 23 last week. ik my bio already says 23 but I lied & was 22 but now I’m 23. LOL. also I’m not a gemini but I have a gemini moon.

Rafe was confident. Some would say he was a little cocky, but he never saw it that way. He saw it as knowing what he wanted and never stopping until he got it. Whether it be being the best at soccer, taking out the hottest girl, or getting a 4.2 gpa. Rafe’s charming personality always got him far in every aspect in life. Parents loved him, teachers admired him, girls practically threw themselves at him. Of course he had no problem talking to girls, it was almost what he was best at.

Except when it came to her. She made his words get stuck in his throat, all his thoughts leaving his head when his eyes would meet hers. Whenever she was in the room he couldn’t function, something their friends had started to notice. Rafe’s sophomore year y/n started coming around with one of his friend’s Wren. She inevitably integrated with the group. Y/n would go to the frat parties at the boys frat and Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Yet never once did he attempt to flirt with her.

Ever since Wren had introduced her to them he was gone. Her shy smile and wide excited eyes had reeled him in. She was sweet and a constant ray of sunshine. Which makes it an even bigger mystery as to why he can’t talk to her. It’s not like she’d be mean or reject him, but somehow he can never get any words out. Always turning into a clammy, awkward, stuttering mess.

Now that it was his senior year attending frat parties became less frequent and going to bars was more common for them. This just made his problem worse. Because now at bars guys would hit on her and he couldn’t do anything. He’d watch with a glare as some guy clearly not good enough for her tried to get her number. She’d always say no, he wasn’t sure why but he was definitely glad she never gave anyone the time of day.

Y/n was sick and tired of never having Rafe’s attention. She’d see him effortlessly talk to Wren and the other girls they were friends with but when it came to her it seemed like he tried to avoid conversation. He would make up an excuse to leave the conversation or would only give short answers. She figured it was to get her to stop talking to him, but she was not giving up that easily.

She wanted his attention because he was just so Rafe. He was smart, athletic, kind, and funny. Maybe he didn’t talk to her but she was always listening to him. When they went on a road trip last summer she sat in the back seat happily in silence because Rafe was talking to Mason almost the whole ride. Plus he is so handsome she swears he could be a disney prince. Y/n had a plan to get to spend some time with him. She wanted him to like her so desperately it was starting to hurt.

It was a Friday night and they were all going out to the bars and she had so graciously offered to host the pregame at her apartment. Everything was going according to plan as her friends all said they’d be there and said what alcohol they were bringing. Even Rafe had sent a text in the group saying he’d be there and that got her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Of course she had the perfect outfit to hopefully impress him and get his attention.

She was setting out shot glasses and solo cups when the first guests knocked on the door. With a giddy smile on her lips she walked over and opened the door. Of course Wren was a part of the group to first arrive.

“Y/n! I’m so happy you’re hosting!” Wren exclaimed as she hugged her. The other three behind Wren took their turn greeting her with a hug as well.

“What you don’t like our place?” Tyler, one of the guys she came with, asked.

Wren gave him a sour look, “Not really into houses with four boys who don’t clean after themselves.”

Kelce gave her an offended look, “Hey we do clean before you guys come over.” They all gathered in the kitchen around the breakfast bar starting to look at the different alcohol options.

“I wouldn’t call wiping down the counters with baby wipes cleaning,” Mariah rolled her eyes at the pair of boys. Just then another knock came from the door.

Kelce who was closest to the door went over to open it. Topper walked in first dapping (an: I cringed too) up Kelce. Behind him followed Mason and Jasmine who all took their turns greeting everyone. Then last but certainly not least Rafe’s tall frame walked through the door way. He smiled brightly as he greeted Kelce and moved on to everyone else. Once he got to y/n who was the last one left his wide smile turned into a closed lip grin. Instead of giving her a side hug the way that all the guys did and the way he did to the other girls he just gave her a small wave. She couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt her but it wasn’t going to deter her from her plan.

Rafe had been a nervous wreck ever since that text she sent inviting them over. Kelce had turned to him knowing his best friend would be looking as pale as a ghost. Rafe didn’t know if he was excited or mortified. The hours before the pregame he had been trying on different outfits and making sure his hair looked okay. Why do I even care so much? is all he kept thinking as he finished spraying on cologne.

He cared so much because he was going to y/n’s. Every time he went in with the mentality that it would be different. He would be his usual self and be able to talk to her. But then when he’d see her all his confidence would disappear and he’d be trying to get away from her as soon as possible. He hated the effect she had on him, he hated feeling so defenseless.

After he chickened out of giving her a hug when he came over he lost complete hope for the rest of the night.

They were going to be leaving for the bar soon and all he had been doing was stealing glances at her every five seconds. She was sitting on her couch with a couple of the girls talking about who knows what. He knows that whatever it was it was making her smile big. She was glowing and radiating so much light he almost couldn’t look away. He loved how she blushed whenever talking about something she was passionate about, something he noticed she did. He also noticed how she constantly touched her hair when she was nervous.

His grip on his cup tightened as he thought about her. He wished he could be the one to brush her hair away or hold her hands when she felt nervous. He sighed and looked away, trying to pay attention to whatever story Topper was telling.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully while smiling, “It’s a good plan guys! I’ll ask if he can stay behind to help me clean so then we can finally be alone together. God I hope he doesn’t say he’ll leave.”

Wren looked at her friend with sympathetic eyes, “This man has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“You’re going through all this effort for the biggest player at this school,” Jasmine reminded her.

Y/n shrugged a shy smile on her lips, “But it’s Rafe. We know him, he’s-he’s a good guy.”

“She’s not wrong. He is a good guy,” Wren agreed.

Jasmine laughed, “Well let’s hope he actually tries to pull a move tonight. I’m tired of seeing you reject every guy for him.”

Y/n sighed, “If nothing happens tonight then I’ll give up and it means he really hates me.”

Wren put her hand over hers, “He doesn’t hate you babe. I promise you he doesn’t.”

“Ladies I think it’s tiiiime to head out,” Mason said as he walked over. The buzz he had clearly showing.

The three girls looking at each other before standing up. Y/n cleared her throat, “I-I think I’m gonna stay behind a bit.”

“Dude what? No you’re coming out tonight,” Topper said as they all walked into the kitchen.

“I’m coming out tonight Top. I just wanna stay back and clean a bit,” she gathered all the courage she could, “Uh Rafe could you stay back and help me?”

Rafe turned to look at her with furrowed brows. His kind was racing with reasons as to why she would want him to help. He was also fighting with himself to say no.

He looked over at his friends who were all smirking at him. He huffed a dry laugh, “uh yeah yeah sure.” He gave her a tight lipped smile. As soon as he saw her play with her hair and that smile form on her lips he knew she deserved a million yes’.

After everyone left Rafe and y/n started silently cleaning the kitchen and living room. Rafe glanced up at her every so often, catching her eyes a few times. A subtle heat would creep up on her cheeks when his blue eyes met hers.

She brought over a few beer bottles to the kitchen to recycle as she cleared her throat, “so Rafe how is uh soccer?” She needed something to talk to him about, the silence was killing her.

He looked up at her from where he was wiping the counter. The light buzz he had was making him feel a bit more like himself, “It’s good, season finally starts next week.”

She leaned against the end of the counter, “That’s good. I expect big things from you Rafe, you won the championship last year.”

He chuckled nervously, “Now I really have motivation to do good.”

She smirked, “well you’re like insanely talented so I regardless you’re going to kill it.”

“I will if you come to some games,” The words left his mouth faster than he could stop them. But he was glad he couldn’t stop himself. The blush on her cheeks and the way she looked down fighting a smile made any embarrassment he felt worth it.

“Of course I’ll be there,” She smiled at him, “thanks for helping me clean Rafe. I really didn’t want to come home to a messy apartment.”

“Anything for you,” He shrugged with a small smile.

Her heart was pounding in chest as she spoke, “One more shot before we go?”

He chuckled, “let’s do it.”

She looked around for shot glasses, “Uh I think we used all the shot glasses.” Her suspicions were correct when she opened the dishwasher seeing them in there.

Rafe’s stomach twisted at the idea that popped into his brain. He rubbed his hands on his pants anxiously as he spoke, “I can just pour it in your mouth like a couple of freshman.” He tried to joke hoping he didn’t make her uncomfortable with his suggestion.

Her eyes lit up mischievously feeling like a genius as her plan was going better than expected, “Only if you let me doing it you.”

He nodded laughing, “Fair enough, so what’s your alcohol of choice?”

“hmmm tequila,” She smiled.

He picked a bottle from the counter opening it and looking over at her with a smirk, “Ready?”

She chuckled nervously, “uhhh you first.” He handed her the bottle.

She looked up at him, his tall frame towering over her, “Okay you’re gonna have to lean down or something Rafe you’re too tall.”

He walked around to sit at one of the stools. His knees pointed to her, long legs spread. Without thinking she stepped towards him. Practically standing between his legs, “Get ready Cameron.” She smirked hoping to hide just how dizzy he was making her feel. She’d never been this close to him and it was overwhelming.

He tilted his head back opening his mouth. Her face felt hot as she started pouring the liquid in his mouth. She shouldn’t have been as attracted to it as she was. She pulled away after a few seconds. When Rafe was done drinking he looked at her with a smirk, “That was more than a shot.”

She shrugged feigning innocence, “Oops.”

He let a breathy sigh, a smile still on his lips. He couldn’t find any words to say because when he looked at her for too long he got nervous.

“uh it’s your turn,” He stood up taking the bottle from her hands. It was then he realized how close she was. She smelled so good he wanted to lean into her. He wanted to push her hair back and tuck his face into her neck, kiss her pulse as he breathed in her perfume.

Y/n opened her mouth and tilted her head back a bit. Rafe’s hands moved before he could think. He placed his hand on the side of her face, his thumb going under her chin tilting it up gently. Her mouth opened wider on it’s own accord, something in her wanting to do exactly whatever he wanted. Rafe noticed it too and his jaw clenched as he thought about her in ways that aren’t very gentlemanly.

She couldn’t even taste or feel the alcohol starting to go down her throat as she stared at him. Rafe looked incredibly hot as he stood over her. His lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrated not spilling all over her. The few seconds felt like minutes when he was this close. Rafe pulled the bottle away. As she closed her mouth swallowing the remaining liquid Rafe’s thumb wiped away a drop from the corner of her lip before pulling away. She quickly took a drink from the soda she had opened, trying to get the tequila taste out of her mouth.

He cleared his throat as the tension in the room was palpable, “So uh we should um catch up with everyone?” He said as a question because he didn’t know what to do from here. He wanted to do whatever she did.

Y/n wanted him to bend her over the kitchen counter. But she kept her composure nodding her head, “Uh yeah yeah.”

She stepped away from him instantly missing the closeness as she grabbed her purse. He waited by the door as she walked over. His eyes watched her every move. He held the door open for her as she walked out. He never once looked away as she turned her back to him to lock her door, he enjoyed this view of her. The skirt she had on could barely be considered a skirt, it made his pants suddenly get tighter.

He shifted between his feet as she turned around, a tight lip smile aimed towards her. Of course she returned a toothy grin with a short laugh, he was so cute she couldn’t get enough.

Y/n thought her plan was working, she felt like she was really getting him to open up to her and like her. But whenever she felt like she was getting somewhere his awkwardness would return and that feeling in her gut started blooming. The one that made her doubt herself, what if she had come on too strong back inside and that’s why he was being awkward?

-

Rafe watched her from where he stood by the pool table. She was waiting for the bartender to finish making someone their drink before ordering her second round when some random guy went up to her. From what Rafe could see it seemed like she wasn’t really enjoying the guy’s company.

He gripped his beer bottle in his hands as the guy stepped closer to y/n. She was giving him polite smiles and nods as he went on about who knows what.

The walk to the bar was mostly quiet between the two. A somewhat comfortable silence that was filled with small talk. Even after the moments they had pouring liquor into each other’s mouths they couldn’t be normal around each other. Especially Rafe. Anytime his shoulder would brush against hers he’d step over a little not wanting to make her uncomfortable. When in reality she wanted him to wrap his arm around her because she was cold and because he smelled good. The tequila hadn’t had much of an affect on him anymore so any confidence he had with her was diminished.

“Dude it’s your turn,” Topper nudged him trying to get his attention.

Rafe turned to him trying to act as if he’d been watching him try to get the ball in the pocket. He rolled his eyes, “Eager to lose Top.” Topped chuckled shaking his head not wanting to call out his best friend on his staring problem.

He set his beer down and slightly leaned over the pool table as he aligned the stick with the ball. He still had a clear view of y/n, of course he was still looking up at her every second as he adjusted his position. He pulled the stick back as before pushing it forward between his fingers he looked up and his heart rate picked up.

The guy that has been bothering her had put his hand on his girl. He had put his hand on the small of her back, his body pressing against her side as she uncomfortably shifted away from him. It was clear she didn’t want him near her and he wasn’t getting the hint. What made if even clearer was when y/n’s eyes met his from across the room, a desperate look in her eyes.

Rafe could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he grew more angry. He dropped the stick onto the table not bothering to say anything to Topper or anyone else. He took long strides over to them not wanting her to be in that situation any longer. He bumped into a few people on the way but he didn’t care enough to apologize, his eyes zeroed in on her.

Once he was standing behind her Rafe shoved himself between her and the creep. At first y/n was worried it was another creepy guy but as soon as she smelt the familiar dior cologne she knew it was Rafe. The whole time this guy James was talking to her she had been hoping Rafe could read her mind of her pleading him to help her. She had seen him watching them and for a second she felt a sense of pride as she saw a hint of jealousy in his eyes. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that.

Then the guy noticed that she wasn’t too into whatever he was talking about and decided to touch her to get her attention. Y/n had been leaning on the bar watching the bartender make her drink not full turned to him to hint that she wasn’t interested. When she felt the hand on her lower back she tried leaning away, him thinking that means he should get closer. Panic filled her eyes as she felt helpless, usually ignoring them or politely turning them down would turn guys away but not this one.

Before he could get even closer is when she smelt that amazing dior cologne. Rafe gave the guy a shove, not too hard to where he’d draw attention. He didn’t want to make y/n more uncomfortable by getting the whole bar’s attention by starting a fight.

“Hands off my girlfriend,” Rafe said his voice laced with venom. She stepped to the side but still behind Rafe to look at the scene in front of her. Her eyes widened at his words, cheeks beginning to feel hot like she just took another shot of tequila.

James scoffed putting his hands up in defense, “Dude she was the one coming on to me.” Y/n scoffed glaring at him in disgust.

She was opening her mouth to say something when Rafe laughed mockingly, “Yeah I doubt she’d give you the time of day even if she was single. Go the fuck away now.”

Rafe turned around to her, barely any space between them. His brows furrowed in concern as he took in her glassy eyes and pink cheeks, “Are you okay?”

He looked even more handsome when he was worried about her. She wasn’t even thinking about the situation she was just in all she could think about was Rafe. Maybe her plan had worked.

She cleared her throat trying to find her voice, “uh yeah. yes. Can we actually go outside?” The room had started to feel too hot and stuffy, or maybe her body was just over heating from their closeness.

He nodded, “Come on, follow me.” He grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd. His much taller and wider frame creating a path for her.

Once outside she felt like she could breathe again until Rafe turned to her again and her eyes met his. He was so beautiful it hurt her to think about how maybe he just said what he said to help her. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. She wished he would just talk to her like he talked to everyone else and flirt with her like he did with every girl or like he did a couple hours ago in her kitchen.

“Y/n are you okay,” He asked her again letting go of her hand not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He immediately regretted it and wanted to reach for her again. Rafe wanted to move her hair out of her face and stroke her cheek.

She gave him her best smile even though he could see a sadness behind her eyes, “I’m fine Rafe, I could have taken that guy. It was just hot in there.” She tried to play off.

“You’re lying,” He said softly, “why do you seem sad? I can go back in there and punch the guy.”

She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “I’m not sad about that.”

“Then what is it? I can help.”

She huffed not really wanting to tell him but knowing she had to rip the bandaid off at some point, “Rafe why don’t you like me? Well I think you like me now. But before why was it only me you never talked to or even any ounce of attention to? But then you like step in and save me from a weirdo and act all concerned so I’m just confused.” She felt like a weight lifted off of her shoulders finally getting what’s been bothering her off her chest.

Rafe stood dumbfounded and feeling the world’s biggest dick. He didn’t think that she had noticed how weird he was around her and now he’s finding out she thinks he hates her. He should be punching himself. It takes him a few seconds to find the right words to say.

“Y/n you’ve always had all of my attention. I-I am always looking at you, in the least creepy way possible,” He sighed finally confessing, “Whenever I’m around you I-I can’t be that Rafe everyone expects of me because you make me nervous. You’re perfect. You’re so nice, funny, beautiful, the smartest person I know, and gorgeous. I was afraid I’d do something stupid or mess up and you’d think I was just some dumb jock.”

She stepped closer to him leaving no distance between them. She put her hands on his chest and looked up at him, “Rafe I’ve liked you since I met you. I-I have been dying for you to do something for so long now, please don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

How could Rafe say no? Her big eyes staring up at him with her warm palms on his chest that were now sliding up his shoulders to wrap around his neck. He grabbed her waist firmly bringing her impossibly closer. That nerve racked Rafe was gone as soon as he heard her say she liked him. He felt like himself now, moving with confidence as he walked backwards pressing her against the side of the bar.

At the same time that her back hit the wall he leaned down and connected his lips with her soft plump ones. She let out and soft moan at the feeling she had been craving since she saw him for the first time. Y/n didn’t even care that her back and hair were pressed agains the dirty wall because one of Rafe Cameron’s hands were sliding up her body and wrapping around her throat gently.

He kissed her with fervor trying to make up for lost time. And oh boy was Rafe already planning on just how he was going go make up for it. After a few minutes they pulled away breaths mixing together as they stayed close to each other.

“Wow,” She whispered before a giggle slipped past her lips. She had finally kissed him.

He laughed with her feeling the same giddiness she did. He reached up brushing some strands of her eyes, “I’m sorry I’ve been an idiot. Let me take you home and make it up to you.”

She nodded shyly. Suddenly not knowing how to act around the Rafe she had been praying to see, “Yes please.”

He smirked leaning forward and pressing a kiss below her ear. He nudged his nose against her ear before softly saying, “Please? Well aren’t you a good girl.”

[sometimesanalice]

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you are frantically fluttering and huffing around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and rich vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends are bringing were going to go, but there were worse problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right, the scalloped white one with gold rim.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. 

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. He’s pretty sure Casey still might have a little crush on you, but Bradley can’t blame him. He’d have a hard time getting over you too, so it’s a good thing he’ll never have to.

On newsletter day, Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

You are his wife. And Duck is his dog. Ridiculous name and all.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations.

Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby. Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please?”

Bradley takes in a couple measured breathes with you, and feels the moment your body relaxes into his.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach and enjoying this moment of calm with you.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.   

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

You hum in contentment, your finger lightly tracing over the shiny gold band of his wedding ring.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as the two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his palms can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see him round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by early this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kid?” Mav asks. A soft, knowing grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who helped raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their wives show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Twins.

Bradley sometimes still couldn’t believe it. When the tech has announced that you were cooking not one, but two future Bradshaw’s, his heart had nearly burst from his chest from the shock and joy. A gift from his late father’s side of the family.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Wren Bradshaw and Millie Lark Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part Four  / Part Five P 1 YOU ARE HERE / Part Five P 2 

As always I own my soul to @chalkysgarbagefire and Hayley for helpin out with this one! 

The problem with D&D games was that the drama room was only available on specific days.

As in, the days Hellfire was scheduled as a club for, much to said club’s distress. 

This led directly into the second issue Hellfire faced--finding a place to host them all when they wanted to do something as a group outside of the main campaign they played. 

(At least anything D&D related, with all of the screaming, ranting, and frantic dice rolling that came with it.) 

Gareth knew Eddie had been lying through his teeth when he'd try to pitch Steve's house as a Hellfire hangout. Accepted that they’d never get to use all the sweet, sweet space Steve was known to have as much as he’d accepted Steve himself. 

It was a lot, after all. Particularly when Eddie’s one-shots were known to last a good chunk of the day. 

Once again, Steve had proved them all wrong. 

(“We can use my house.” were five words not a single person at the table had ever expected to hear out of Harrington’s mouth, and it showed in the shocked silence that followed when he actually spoke them. 

“What?” Steve asked, as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Space is the problem right? So my house is the perfect solution.” 

“Are you sure dude?” Grant asked hesitantly. “You know this one-shot isn’t gonna be a like, two hour thing, right?” 

To their surprise Steve just gave him a flat, almost dead-eyed stare in return. “I’ve hosted the kids at my place before. Believe me, I am well aware.” 

“As long as you’re absolutely sure…” Jeff had added, and could only roll his eyes when he got a sassy response from Steve. 

Gareth of course, caught the way Steve kept seeking out Eddie’s eyes, as if hoping to make their oldest friend smile simply by offering up his house. 

He didn’t even need to look to know it was working.) 

It had taken some creative thinking (and a few wild excuses) to finangle things so that he could show up to Steve's literal castle of a home before anyone else without alerting Eddie but he'd managed it.

It was in fact, looking to be the highlight of Gareth's month. 

Possibly the year, if they managed to pull off the little plot he had cooked up. 

“I still don’t get how this is a prank.” Steve said, as Gareth prepped him before the others arrived.

"Trust me. If Eddie is anything, it's a jealous bitch." Gareth replied, seated on one of the countertops. "We dethrone him and he's gonna make an ass of himself for the next week. It'll be hilarious." 

"I fail to see how that's different than usual." Steve grumbled as he bustled about. 

Upon arrival Gareth had found him elbow deep into making cookies and what appeared to be  themed cocktails, among several other bowls full of snacks of all kinds. 

There was even little finger sandwiches, the kind that absolutely looked homemade, and Gareth would have teased him about that except he’d instantly stuffed two in his mouth.  

("I won't be able to host since I'm playing, so I just want everything done before anyone comes over." Was Steve's explanation, when Gareth did manage to get out a few teasing quips.  

With the proud lack of manners so many teenage boys possessed, Gareth talked right through his mouth of food. "God you’re a dork. How the hell did you get popular?"

"Shut up Emerson, you're wearing two jackets." Steve snipped in response, as if he didn’t look like the poster boy for Nordstrom.) 

"Don't bring logic into this." Gareth continued, as he tried to snag some cookie dough. 

 Steve smacked the back of his hand with a spoon. 

"Get a bowl and a spoon if you're going to eat the dough!" Steve grumbled at him, already bustling to get said bowl and spoon himself. “God you’re worse than Eddie. And the kids!” 

Gareth waited until Steve turned before he stuck his tongue out at him. "Whatever you say, mom." 

He got an over exaggerated eye roll in response. 

 "Anyway, the point is you're gonna witness something we'll get to tease Eddie about for years." Gareth said, as he watched Steve dole out some dough. 

"You get to watch the little hamster on the wheel that powers Eddie's brain lose its shit and cause him to do something really stupid.” He made grabby hands for the bowl and spoon, and tucking in delightfully the second Steve handed them over. 

Steve himself treated the entire exchange like he was feeding a particularly vicious and wild animal, making a show of yanking his hands back like Gareth might just go for his fingers. "I just don't understand why the thing you wanna fight about is cuddling."

"Bragging rights. The jokes we can make. The fact that your thighs look like they were made out of clouds, take your pick man.” Gareth counted off, in-between bites of dough. 

"Clouds?" Steve asked, tilting his head. 

“Big muscley clouds, Harrington. Also Grant’s here.” 

Steve blinked. “How do you-” He asked, right before the sound of a car with an engine far too loud pulled into his driveway. 

“He drives an absolute piece of crap. You ride in that thing one time and you’ll be able to hear it coming for the rest of your life.” Gareth explained, as Steve peered out the kitchen and down to his front doors. 

(Plural, because he had two.

Gareth had never felt more judged by slabs of wood in his life than he had when he’d walked through them.) 

"Last chance to bail, Stevie.” Gareth teased. “I won't hold it against you if you call it off mid-show though." 

Steve didn’t answer for a moment, too busy disrobing from his baking apron—a bright yellow and red garment that practically swallowed him whole, complete with an embroidered ‘Claudia Henderson’ over the right breast. The embroidery gave rise to a few questions but Gareth decided to save them for later. 

"No, something this fucking weird has to have a story behind it and I want to witness the fallout.” Steve finally replied, before rushing out of the kitchen. 

He ripped open his front door, right after a knock echoed loudly throughout the house. 

“Shit! What the hell man, were you just waiting to do that!?” Stewart yelped, prompting Gareth to snicker quietly and Steve to apologize. 

Like the wealthy housewife he’d been no doubt raised by, Steve went through a whole spiel as he ushered Stewart and Grant in, pointing out bathrooms, letting them know where the game was going to take place (the giant fuck off table that looked like it should be hosting some kind of high-stakes negotiation instead of a bunch of nerds) and where they could put their things (into a closet dedicated to just guests.) 

The trio of Eddie, Tiffany and Jeff arrived next, the latter two having been roped into helping Eddie haul his “D&D To Go” bags around. 

Steve started his little host speech over, much to Gareth’s amusement, fluttering about and entirely forgetting about his cookies until the oven dinged, causing him to swear and rush back into the kitchen. 

“Dude, breathe.” Gareth told him, almost done with his bowl. “It’s a D&D game, you don’t gotta go full out for us.” 

“I just want to make sure everyone has a good time.“ Steve said with a shrug. Like none of the effort he’d gone to, was a big deal. 

“Careful Harrington, say stuff like that again and we’re going to start thinking you enjoy hosting us.” 

“Shut up Gary.” Steve said, setting his cookies on a cooling rack. “And put that bowl in the sink!” 

Gareth jumped off the counter, trying his best to remove the shit eating from his face.

He failed entirely. 

xXx 

As far as pranks went, this one required quite the set up. 

They couldn’t do it in the beginning of the D&D game--too obvious, and too easy for Eddie to call bullshit. 

Doing it at the end wouldn’t work either. Eddie would know they were trying to rile him up and would no doubt find a way to ruin it. 

Years of being Munson’s best friend had afforded Gareth the knowledge that this was going to have to be split in two parts, and the first part, the setup, started now. 

Slowly. Methodically. 

In a way that wouldn't spook Steve, or trigger Eddie's sense for trouble. 

Gareth began by selecting a seat as far away from Eddie as possible, knowing his lovestruck idiot friend would be pulling out all the stops tonight in order to impress Steve (and get him to keep playing, of course.) 

Sure enough, as soon as Eddie was done setting up he crooked a finger in Steve's direction.

“Harrington you’re here, next to me.” Eddie flashed him his most award winning grin, the one that said he was up to trouble in that charming, ‘aren’t I just a charming ol’ rogue?” sort of way. 

“I made you a human fighter, just to start you off." He continued, as Steve took the seat next to him. "You can always make your own character later if you don't like playing this class, but I made this set up as straightforward as possible.” 

“Human fighter huh?” Steve said, glancing down the sheet. “Okay.” 

“You have any questions, you just ask. I promise I won’t bite. Not for your first time anyway.” Eddie winked, dipping in and out of Steve's space as he did so. 

“Dude, I am begging you to please stop saying shit like that.” Jeff said with a long suffering sigh. 

“No.” Eddie replied promptly, sticking his tongue out. 

Steve just ducked his head to hide his smile. 

A harsh clap halted any further response, as Eddie settled back into his seat and dipped into his DM narrator voice. 

"Alright my little adventurers! Are we ready to begin?"  He looked around as everyone looked towards him, the energy shifting instantly in the room. 

Eddie grinned gleefully. "Perfect. You all wake up at an Inn, with no memory of how you got there…" 

A story was quickly spun, one of mysterious memory loss and a sense that the group needed to stay together. Introductions were given once everyone came into the tavern of the inn, cut short when they were interrupted by a lone barkeep.

“Is the barkeep a human?” Steve cut in. 

Eddie paused, temporarily thrown, but nodded encouragingly. “Yes, he is actually!” 

Grant and Jeff both went to open their mouths, no doubt to tease, but Harrington beat them to it. 

“Okay, I roll to fight him, or whatever.” Steve said.

“I--what?” Eddie asked. 

“I roll to fight him.” Steve repeated. “Oh and my character screams “Death to humans!” before he attacks.” 

He sat back with a smug little grin, and watched as Eddie froze in surprise, while Grant and Stewart's jaws promptly hit the floor. 

“Harrington, you menace.” Tiff cackled, delighted. 

Eddie just threw his head back and laughed. 

It set the tone quite nicely for the rest of the one-shot. 

xXx 

“Grant, why are you looking at me through a fork?” Steve asked, about thirty minutes into the game. 

“I’m pretending you’re in jail.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Grant, whose character had to physically carry Steve's fighter out of two altercations he started,  just gave him a flat look.  “It’s spiritually healing.”

"Hey Jeff." Gareth asked quietly, as banter was traded. "I'm catching a hell of a draft over here." 

Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?" 

"Switch me seats?" 

Jeff rolled his eyes, but gave in easily enough. 

"Fine."  He said. 

Gareth did his best to keep his grin off his face. 

Step one, complete! 

xxx

"You come upon a door." Eddie said, sitting deep in his seat while steepling his fingers. "It's a normal door, unremarkable in every way except for two things." 

Groans filled the room, startling Steve. 

"Oh god, not again." Stewart moaned, raking his hands through his hair. "I can't do this again!" 

Eddie's grin merely grew. "The first odd thing you notice is that the door has been put into the wall at a tilt." 

"I'm gonna kill him." Tiff snarled, writing something frantically in her notes. "Munson is a dead man walking." 

"What is happening?" Steve asked, glancing around. 

"The second thing is that you recognize this door." Eddie's grin was Cheshire cat-esque, smug in the chaos he was causing among his friends. "It's the same door you saw at the beginning of this adventure, leading into the room the Innkeeper asked you to stay away from." 

"We're boned." Grant announced, throwing himself dramatically back against his chair. 

Gareth made his own dramatic, frustrated noise, banging his fist on the table. 

The full glass of soda next to him wobbled dangerously. 

With a cough, he made another loud "ugh!"  smacking his fist down a second time, closer to the glass. 

As intended, it spilled all over Tiffany. 

"Dude!" She exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and jumping up. 

"Oh shit Tiff, I'm so sorry!" Gareth gasped. 

It was hard to keep a straight (albeit very sorry, least Tiffany hit him with her papers) face, but he managed. 

Barely. 

"You got my shirt wet you dick!"

"Here, switch it with this."  Gareth stood, unwrapping the red and black checkered sweater from his waist. He offered it up with an apologetic face as Tiff snatched it out of his hands with a glare. 

"I'll switch you seats too!" He called as she stormed off towards the bathroom. 

Jeff and Grant both stared at him with raised eyebrows as Gareth quickly shuffled his and Tiff's stuff around, taking her now sticky chair. 

"Maybe we should take a break?" He suggested, trying to act embarrassed when he was anything but. "This whole area needs to be wiped down."

"Five minutes." Eddie conceded. "I wanted one of Stevie's delicious cookies anyway." He stood, putting his arms up in a lazy stretch. 

Steve stood with him, leaning over to examine the mess Gareth had made. “We can wipe this down but this wood’s kinda funny, it’s gonna be wet for a bit no matter how much we dry it.” 

“Well shit.” Gareth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the table man.” 

Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, the kids spill on it constantly. You are probably going to need a different chair though unless you’re fine with your ass getting wet.” 

“Do you have another chair somewhere, Stevie?” Eddie asked, making a show of looking around. “Cause I’m not seeing one. Not that I care if Gary-Berry sits on the floor.” 

Steve had several extra chairs in fact, but he and Gareth had hidden them all away before anyone else had arrived. 

“I used to, but Mike broke two.” Steve said, and Gareth found himself insanely impressed by the improv on display. 

He hadn’t thought Harrington had that level of acting in him. 

“If you’re okay with sharing though, the chair’s are big enough that we can kinda squish together.” Steve continued, completely ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes about bugged out of his head. 

“Only if you’re sure, man. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” Gareth put on his saddest, ‘I dun fucked up’ face, and shuffled his feet a little, just for dramatic effect. 

This was the performance of a lifetime and Gareth wanted his Grammy after it, because he and Steve had planned the entire thing right down to the shared chair bit. 

“You’re not, Dustin does this constantly.” Steve replied easily. 

“Or we could just put down a towel.” Jeff said, with a look on his face that said he thought everyone in the room was a fucking idiot. 

Gareth could’ve strangled him. 

“That’s probably a smarter idea.” Steve agreed, like the traitor he was. “I dunno if that’s gonna work for your papers and shit though, so you can just hedge into my space.” 

Which wasn’t what Gareth wanted, but he had to give Steve props for the quick thinking. 

At least it was just a minor setback. 

“I’ll get a towel.” Jeff continued, and at least they all got to witness the look that graced Eddie’s face upon realizing that Jeff of all people, knew where Steve kept his towels. 

xXx

"What the hell else can we do to try and open the door!?" Jeff snarled a while later, slamming his pencil down. 

They'd tried multiple different approaches and so far nothing had worked to set off whatever trap Eddie had set up. Something that made their DM absolutely delighted, while frustrating everyone else. 

"I still don't get why we can't just try to turn the knob." Steve complained, staring in confusion at the absolute riot Eddie's "completely normal" door had caused among the rest of his party. 

"Do not touch that door Harrington!" Grant bellowed, pointing at him. 

Steve raised his hands in the air placatingly. "Easy, easy, I was just making a suggestion." 

Gareth, wedged as close into Steve's space as he could get, tapped his fingers on the table twice. It was the little code he’d come up with to alert Steve that he was about to do something to piss off Eddie related to the prank (mostly, so Steve had a heads up Gareth was about to touch him, not that Gareth had spun it that way when he’d explained it) before patting Steve’s shoulder, hooking his elbow on it and leaning over. “Not gonna lie man, it’s not a bad idea. We’ve tried right about everything else.” 

He could feel Eddie's eyes burning a hole in his skull from here and he delighted in it. 

“Do not encourage him.” Grant said through gritted teeth. 

Gareth leaned his face on the arm perched on Harrington, his hair tickling Steve’s cheek as he tried to look as angelic as possible. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean, Grantman.” 

He was flipped off in response. 

xXx

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Stewart howled, and even Gareth’s jaw dropped when Steve finally gave in and tried to turn the knob--only to succeed and swing the door open. 

“Well Munson? What happens to him?” Tiff said, having refused to call Eddie anything but his last name since the door had first appeared. 

“Nothing.” Eddie practically purred. “I told you, it’s a totally normal door, and the only weird thing about it was that you recognized it and that it was put into the wall a little tilted.” 

“Fuck you dude.” Stewart practically growled, balling up the piece of paper he’d been doodling on and flinging it towards their DM. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck. You!” 

“No thank you.” Eddie replied cheekily, twirling a finger in his hair. 

“We spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to open a regular door.” Jeff said, clearly processing. “An hour.” 

Eddie just shrugged, shit eating grin plastered across his face. 

Gareth once again tapped his fingers twice against the table, waited a moment, before banging his head gently against Steve’s shoulder. “I hate him.” He groaned. 

After a long moment, Steve gently, if not a little awkwardly, patted him on the head. 

“There, there, Gary. We defeated the door in the end.” He said calmly. 

Gareth laughed, absolutely delighted. His head jerked up and a grin crossed his face as he immediately looked to see what Eddie made of that. 

Pure murder, going by the face Eddie poorly tried to cover. 

Perfect. 

xXx 

“With his last few moves, Sir Carrington-” 

"I refuse to let that be my character's name.” Steve interjected, as he had every time Eddie brought up the name they’d apparently argued over. “If I have to figure out how to change it legally in your dumb game I fucking will."  

Eddie didn’t even look in his direction. 

“--Sir Carrington leaps into the air, swinging the sword of truth. It cleaves right through the Innkeeper, revealing him to be the dastardly villain you’ve heard so much about, Tareth the Trait. He’s gained an unusual amount of power after stealing the Inn from the former Innkeeper--” 

“Really bro?” Gareth said, sending Eddie a flat look. “Tareth the Trait?” 

“--With this final blow, Tareth collapses to the ground, dead. The Inn returns to its prior form, a safe haven for adventurers, instead of a trap.” 

“Shut up guys, we did it!” Stewart said, throwing his hands up in a victory pose. 

“Not gonna Eddie, I liked the twist.” Tiff complimented, a rare thing from her. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Eddie stood up, sweeping an arm across his chest as he bowed. “Give yourselves a round of applause as well, especially for our dear Steven, who just completed his first D&D game!”

A cheer went up, causing Steve to flush red. 

Gareth pretending to drum, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s much the way he had seen Eddie do as Steve sent an embarrassed smile around the room. 

“We should celebrate.” Jeff said, as the chaos finally died down. 

“I conquer, Jeff the Chef!” Eddie hollered, putting his foot on Steve’s chair. “Stevie-boy, you gotta have some good stuff around here for those big basketball wins!” 

“Get your foot off the chair, Eds.” Steve groaned, but stood up (forcing Gareth to get up as well considering how far he’d been leaning into Steve’s space.) “And yeah we can order like pizza.” 

“Pizza and beer?” Grant suggested.

“Oh my friend. I can do better than that.” Steve replied, a flash of his old, charming self coming through. “Allow me to raid my father’s liquor cabinet.” 

“Hell yes!” Grant yelled, pumping his fist. 

Tiffany rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and neither Gareth noted, did anyone else. 

Which was exactly what he wanted, because he hadn’t managed to land the perfect ending he and Harrington had planned. 

Gareth would make it into Steve’s lap tonight, even if it killed him.  

(Or worse, even if Eddie got there first, a thing that may very well happen considering Eddie was clearly annoyed with how Gareth had been hogging Steve. 

Just as intended.) 

SOME NOTES: I don't play d&d so writing it always requires a lot of research. Several pieces here (like the human fighter bit) are based off of/stolen from memes, videos or stories I read. If I fucked it up thaaaan idk squint and pretend its right LOL. 

This one doesn’t have a bonus because I had to split Chapter Five into two parts. This is Part One, it’ll be one chapter on A03.  It just kept going.

Also Adopt a Jock is officially going up ON A03 so I will no longer be accepting tags ( Ch. One is already uploaded I’m just struggling with the summary lol. I will make a post and link it to my pinned post when it’s up.) I will still be updating here since I am only updating chapters on A03 as fast as I can edit them, which is not fast at all, so I imagine the next few chaps will be here before there but eventually shits gonna even out, so those who did not get onto the tag list can subscribe to the A03!  

Finally, Sorry this took so long, I have a prior ongoing medical issue and getting laid off fucked up my insurance. Had to cram in some procedures before it ran out. Long story short all I've done is sleep, go to a doctor or rant about one of the two lmao. Legit slept 18 hours yesterday ahaha k i l l m e 

[siren-141]

45 with Ghost 🙏🏽🙏🏽

warnings: sex, a tiny bit of angst, hurt/comfort. have fun :) summer sleepover

roses - awaken I am

“Cheers,” everyone raised their glasses to the center of the table as Gaz spoke. “To the 141 and to my best friend for hosting this lovely dinner for us.”

Everyone clinked their glasses with one another, taking a sip of the crimson wine in the glass. The boys had just finished up a successful mission and had gotten back, and you couldn’t help but offer to host them for a night. After all, they deserved a nice home-cooked meal and some well-aged wine.

You looked around the table, smile only faltering when you met eyes with Simon. You knew things would be awkward when you had told your childhood best friend, Gaz, to tell his team about the dinner, but you figured you’d just have to get over it.

“Oh no John, you don’t have to get those,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder above you. He had already taken his place in front of your sink, sleeves rolled up and ready to wash the dishes when you stopped him.

“Please, it’s the least I could do,” he said. Somehow you were able to talk him down, telling him it wasn’t even that many dishes and you’d grab them after everyone was gone. Moving back to the living room of your cozy apartment, he joined the rest of the men and put his jacket back on, gearing up to leave.

“Thank you so much lass, we really enjoyed the food and the company as always,” Johnny leaned down to give you a customary kiss on the cheek.

“It’s no problem at all, you’re all welcome any time,” and with that, the men all said their goodbyes and left. You sighed, locking the door behind them. It wasn’t that bad, you thought, It could have been worse.

Lighting a candle in the living room, you went back to the kitchen to start on the dishes. You got two plates in when you heard a knock on your door.

“Simon..?” you opened your door to be met with the large man, hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. “Did you forget something?”

“No, no. I just…wanted to talk, I guess.”

Welcome to worse.

You hesitantly let him in, watching as he sat on your all-too-familiar couch. Bringing the wine bottle back over, you sat down a few feet away from him, pouring some in each glass and handing it over to him.

–

A few hours had passed since Simon had come back. The two of you caught up after a few months of not talking, not really being in each other’s lives anymore. You talked about your jobs, about school. About relationships. That’s where it all went downhill.

“It was never gonna work out, Si,” you said, voice beginning to raise. You could already feel the tears begin to spring to your eyes.

“I tried,” he responded, pacing the room.

“You were always working-”

“They needed me at my job, I can’t exactly walk away whenever I want to, you know that.”

“I know that Simon, but I needed you too!”

It was silent for a while, both of you letting your words sink in. He brought his hand up to his face, grimacing and rubbing his eyes for a sense of clarity, trying to find the calm in this storm. When he turned around, he was met with a sight that made his heart drop. You were still sitting on your couch, glass of wine in one hand and your head in the other, facing the opposite direction. He saw your shoulders and back rise, and realized you had begun to cry.

Simon walked over, sitting back down next to you. He took the glass from your hand and set it gently on the table in front of you, and took your hand in his. He whispered your name, and you looked at him, a single tear running down your cheek as you tried to gain composure.

“Please don’t cry,” he said softly, thumb brushing the tear away. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost smiling. “It’s fine. We’ve been over all of it already, we’re past it-”

He leaned in and connected his lips with yours in a soft kiss. He could feel you tense at first, but soon after you relaxed. When the two of you separated, he stayed close, lips almost touching yours still.

“Please. Let me make it up to you,” he spoke in a whisper, heart racing, hoping that he could just have one last chance with you. In that moment, he knew that there was a God as you nodded your head and leaned back in.

The second kiss was more passionate, months of heartbreak being poured into it. He cupped your face in his large hand, deepening the kiss. His tongue moved languidly across yours, missing the way your lips felt on his.

As he moved his hand to your waist to pull you closer, you whimpered into his mouth, and he pulled back. You were about to object when he stood up, guiding you up with him, and leading you to your bedroom.

The two of you stood in your room in silence as he slipped your dress over your head slowly, letting it fall to the ground as he kissed you again, backing you up until your knees hit the bed. You sat down on the edge, and he kneeled in front of you.

“I’ve missed you every day that we’ve been apart,” he breathed as he kissed your neck, trailing kisses down to your chest.

“Can barely concentrate,” he unclasped your bra with expertise, just like he used to all those months ago. He let it fall to the ground on top of your dress. He kissed the apex of your breast, hand squeezing at the other as he listened to your breath hitch.

“My head’s a mess when you’re in it,” he kissed down your stomach, hands squeezing at your waist. He gently pushed you to lay down, raising your hips to pull your tights down your legs and slip them off completely, kissing down your thighs and legs until he had shown your whole body the love he knew it deserved.

He rose from the ground, undressing himself, never breaking eye contact as you laid there, propped up on your elbows.

“Simon,” your soft voice rang in his ears; you were like a siren to him. You could have said anything from anywhere, and he’d abandon ship just to hear you again.

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you as he placed a kiss on your forehead. His fingers trailed down until they met your core, and you opened your legs up willingly to him, missing his touch more than anything. He began to rub your clit in small, slow circles, already feeling the wetness accumulate on his fingers. Pushing two of his fingers in, he worked you open, swallowing your soft moans.

Gentle waves rolled over you as he brought you to your first climax. Nobody knew your body as well as him; he was able to make you cum with ease, remembering everything about you as if he had blueprints he had studied for ages.

“Please,” you breathed out. He repositioned himself, lining his thick cock up with your entrance, pushing to the hilt until he was fully sheathed inside you. Electricity sparked within you, his cock hitting all of your pleasure points that your toys had missed every time you used them in his absence. He groaned at your wet heat, stilling inside you as he refocused.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling out and slowly pushing back in. “Feel so good wrapped around me, sweetheart.”

Simon set a slow but powerful pace, hips driving into you deep as you left light scratches along his back. Your room sounded of deep moans and whimpers, both of you having to break from your kiss every time he hit an especially sensitive spot.

“I love you, I never stopped. I never will.” He could feel you clench at his words as he let out another moan, his thrusts starting to move a little bit faster.

“Oh- Simon, baby-” you held him tighter, head thrown back as the pleasure shot up your spine. “Please, please, please…”

He could tell you were close, your pussy tightening around him as he had found just the right angle and pace. “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that- you’re takin’ me so well. Always been a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you became overwhelmed with his admissions and pleasure. You gasped as he hit your sweet spot continuously, whining and writhing underneath him.

“There you go, I’ve got you. Cum f’me sweetheart, I’m right here,” his words shattered you, your vision going white as your back arched off the bed. “That’s it, go ahead love.”

Pleasure continued to ripple through you, blood rushing through your ears and white-hot ecstasy running through your veins as Simon continued his pace just as it was, just as you liked it. As soon as he saw you begin to come down from your high, his thrusts got sloppier, hips stuttering as he breathed out a fuck in that baritone voice of his. His eyes squeezed shut as he came deep inside you, pushing himself as deep as possible. He pumped himself in you a few more times as he came down himself, finally pulling out and rolling on side of you.

You both laid there for a while, waiting for your heavy breathing and racing hearts to calm down. He pulled you to the side of him, holding you close. You could hear his heartbeat return back to normal. The two of you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a couple of minutes.

Simon was the first to break the silence.

“I meant everything I said,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing circles onto your back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You both laid like that for what seemed like forever. He was just about to fall asleep, drift off into another world, when you turned onto your side and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Love you too, Si,” you murmured, eyes already shut.

[ender-cloud]

NEW UPDATE AND OH OK UM ONE MOMENT THERES A LOT TO UNPACK HERE

Tgs spoilers undercut

Ok, ok, ok! Im currently ill so my minds a little bit scattered and I woke up really late today because I needed the rest, so im posting this a little late but oh my hod!!

Ok, ok ok ok! So!

Hyde is having the same problem Jekyll did before he passed out and I think this could mean 2 things.

When Jekyll was having this issue Hyde was going into the back of the mind, which is exactly what Jekyll is doing right now trying to erase himself, does this truly make it so Hyde will die with Jekyll?

Now now, Lyn wonders if Jekyll is wanting to kill Hyde but I don’t believe he does. I think Jekyll wants Hyde to suffer but he made his intentions seem very clear. He wanted Hyde to go mad without him as he is sent to Jail because of the crimes he’s committed in the past. Also I don’t think Jekyll knows that he’s possible of killing Hyde.

Fritz beought up that Sage said that if Hyde dies then Jekyll will go back to normal. But that might not have the same effect on Hyde.

Hyde stems from Jekyll and the only reasoning why Jekyll was affected before was because Hyde was pulling him down. Forcing Jekyll to go with him which Jekyll isnt trying to do to Hyde.

Thank you lyn and Fritz for what you found out while I was asleep

Hyde isnt an organic human, but just a product of Jekyll, and it brings up if the host (Jekylls body/Jekyll) dies then what will it do for Hyde’s life. Jekyll most likely dosent know he’s killing Hyde by killing himself but it is just a side effect

But I would also argue that it might not be, for one, when it was happening to Jekyll it was way worse, he was grabbing his chest in pain and was barley even able to stand, Jekyll is the host body who wouldn’t have died if Hyde did, so shouldn’t it be 10 times worst for Hyde?

It also brings up Hyde’s anxiety, in this moment hyde is scared from being left alone and is terrified that Lanyon has found him like this. The pounding of his heart could be a start of a panic attack instead of a sign that Jekyll is killing him.

Either way, a full blown Panic attack would be an interesting thing to see Hyde experience in front of Lanyon and show how more of an exposure to to the real world is effecting him. If Hyde is going to die from Jekyll, I dont think it’s happening just yet

Ok ok! Now to the dialogue

Hyde trying to still show he’s tough even though it’s obvious in his face he’s lost, scared, panicked. He’s keeping up his persona but he looks like he is going to break soon.

He is just as emotionally vulnerable as Jekyll and he needs his reputation as much as Jekyll desires his

ALSO LANYON TREATING HYDE AS A PERSON FINALLY???? He seems to have accepted that Hyde and Jekyll are the same person, bringing up a memory he had WITH JEKYLL while saying YOU to hyde.

While Jekyll and Hyde arent the same people, it is a start. It’s almost like he’s trying to reach out to Jekyll in Hydes mind, but Jekyll may be far to gone

Haha, oh Jekyll would, now now, before we get into the story it makes me wonder if Lanyon thinks this was Jekyll’s Hyde showing which is why he brought it up, he dosent exactly know what part of Jekyll he was always talking to.

Woah, Jekyll not wanting to lie to the people who have been nice to him, crazy Idea! /j I just giggled at a stupid joke

I do find it interesting how Jekyll has changed from back them, not fully, he was still desperate to get people to aprove of him, a people pleaser at heart. Yet now, Jekyll is a lot more willing to let a “little” lie slide under the rug if it means he can still keep his reputation up.

He is still a people pleaser and seeing it when he was younger shows why he decided to remove Hyde from himself.

Also jekyll is literally on his knees begging for this simple chance that Lanyons parents wont even find out about, he is truly just desperate to be liked and accepted.

Lanyon is really smart, as seen, but is holding himself back because he wants it to seem that he dosent need his fathers approval or attention but is instead is proving how much his father floods his mind.

He’s not doing this for himself, he is doing it to spite his father, trying to go against Him, not because he dosnet care about school or what people think, but instead Because he cares too much. He is trying to trick himself into thinking it dosnet Matter but it does matter to him what his father thinks.

Also Jekyll being so scared of being called a monster shows how even from the beginning he didn’t like the hyde part of himself and how he really just wanted to be accepted, he doesn’t want to be perceived as a monster even after all of these years he just wants to be liked

This story of the past dosent seem to be over yet so we’ll have to wait until next week for the rest

[ultimate-simp-10]

front man/in-ho x fem/reader

it ended up being the one part.

cw: Squid Game s1, reader inspo is from Pearl, In-ho x fem!reader, reader is tiger mask vip's daughter, reader is death-obsessed, player 69's death with too much detail, reader helps front man with jun-ho inflicted gsw

words: 1634

You step out of the helicopter, clad in a slinky dress with a heavy animal-based gold mask strapped onto your face. Your father had insisted that you come with him, promising that you would enjoy the trip. It was eyebrow-raising, to say the least. There was little that you enjoyed and even less that made you happy. But he was so sure that you just followed along, allowing him to pick out a dress and drag you along to South Korea.

A guard, one with a mask with a square, leads you, your father, and the other VIPs inside the hidden building fortress. The place is ginormous, from what you can see. You're escorted into an elevator and the guard hits the button for the penthouse.

Waiting for you at the top is a man wearing a black jacket and mask, faceted like a jewel. One point to your father: You're intrigued, but it fades quickly.

"Greetings," the man with the black mask speaks. "I hope your long trip here has not been too difficult." His voice is deep, but his words seem overly formal. It's clear that English is a seldom used second language. "I am the Front Man, who operates and oversees all matters here. It is a true honor to welcome you."

You're bored. Your father made promises, and so far, he had not delivered. He had not told you the nature of the trip, and you would much rather be at home, watching the clock tick down until the next game began. It was hours away, but even that was better than this.

One of the VIPs asks about 'the host', but what catches your attention is the games. The Front Man seems sure everything will go as planned and that you won't be disappointed.

"Well, I hope not," your father starts. "Listen, I'm willing to give anybody some slack. That's not a problem. I just have to say I'm a difficult man to please. And my daughter here is worse than I am. I hope you won't disappoint us."

"Shall we?" The Front Man leaves little time to make any rebuttals, quickly turning to lead you down to the end of the hall, where the door opens to reveal a hidden pathway. He brings you to a lavishly decorated room. The walls are painted like a rainforest, and plants litter the room. There are several couches on short platforms with underlighting. And near each couch is a person, or people, meticulously painted to match the patterns.

Your eyes find a large television on the far wall. Your eyes light up at the sight as your father shouts profanities at Player 69 as if the contestant can hear him through the screen.

The Front Man suggests that you all get some rest before the next game, but you only hear the blood rushing in your ears as the player tightens the noose around his neck. He scoots himself to the edge of the stairs.

He watches as you get closer to the screen, eyes locked on the player. Finally, 69 crests over the edge, and the noose tightens. In-ho expects you to turn away, to gasp, to cry out, anything. But you don't move a muscle, watching as the player jerks as he suffocates.

Paralyzed with fear, he thinks. You couldn't look away. It was the only explanation.

The player finally stops moving. He can see how you grin at the player's death. You weren't afraid. No, you enjoyed it. You liked watching as the player died. You become acutely aware of him watching you, then you realize that the VIPs have gone.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Mama says I'm obsessed with death," you say. "Says it's unnatural. But it's one of the only things that makes me... I don't know."

"Is that why you're here? The death?" Why is he interacting with her? He hates the VIPs. More often than not, they were disgusting, vile men. But here was this woman, studying the corpse of the players like he was made of gold. And he was talking to her.

"Yeah. Daddy knows what I like, I'll give him that. The first game was magnificent, all the terror. I could practically taste it."

"Well, tomorrow's game will be enjoyable for you, I have no doubt."

The next day, you and the VIPs are brought back into the main room. Just like in the player dorm, "The Blue Danube" plays over the speakers. The men are each clad in silk robes and slippers and are quick to drape themselves over their chosen couches or prop their feet up on the painted slaves workers. You've picked a different dress, this one a deep red, and go to take a seat with your father, but are directed to a wide brown leather chair with a low back. It's not on a platform like the couches, but it does have a square side table on the left side. Some of the VIP areas seem to have been shifted to allow for it to sit near your father.

The Front Man watches you closely as you sit in his chair. He'd had it brought down shortly before you were brought out so that you could have the VIP experience. You sit stiffly as the men talk about their bets. He sees you decline every drink that the waiters offer.

Then, your father demands to know about the next game and one of the men agrees. The Front Man gives in, and a square guard removes the cloth that covers a small bridge. The bridge stands high above the floor of the model. 16 little glass chess knights are neatly arranged on one side.

The VIPs speculate about it as the screen changes, showing the players as they all pick numbered vests. When they're done, the Front Man announces the beginning of the game and the screen rises from view. The dark curtains open, revealing a large version of the model bridge.

You roll your eyes as one VIP exclaims "It's bigger!" as if you weren't all seeing it. In-ho explains the rules as the players step onto the platform and 96 finally steps up. He jumps onto a glass pane and you deflate a little. The guard standing by the model copies the movement. He jumps onto another pane and falls.

The Front Man watches you scoot forward a little, eyes lighting up. The player follows shortly after. In-ho can see that your mood is affected as more and more players drop, especially when 212 pulls 101 with her to their deaths. He has to step away to help with the intruder but comes back to see you standing by his chair. The other VIPs are also standing, but you clap more enthusiastically than the rest.

You turn to the stairs when you hear him speak, and he can see just how widely you're grinning.

Things only become more complicated when he has to leave again, and even more so the next day when he finds himself standing at the edge of a cliff, a bullet lodged in his shoulder, staring at the water that has just embraced his brother.

You're still sitting in the large room when a guard steps in front of you. He says nothing and holds out a walkie-talkie. You raise an eyebrow but take the device.

Before you can do anything, In-ho's voice comes from the speaker, "You have some medical training, yes?"

You press the button. "A little."

"Get anything you have that can treat a wound. Follow the guard. Don't ask questions." The guard says something you can't understand, and he takes the walkie-talkie from you. Then, he walks off. Intrigued, you follow the man to your room to dig through your bag. Finding your tweezer kit, some sewing supplies, and a small light, you step out of your room and go back to the darkly decorated hallway. He stops by a door for a moment before walking off to the elevator.

You knock on the door, and In-ho opens it.

"Y/N, come in, quick." He grabs your wrist and pulls you into the dark bathroom.

You realize that this is the Front Man. Gone is his gray jacket, leaving him in his slacks and a black wifebeater. You see that he's holding a towel to his shoulder. A bottle of alcohol and a tray full of bloody gauze lie by the sink.

"Were you stabbed?" There's no concern in your voice.

"Shot," his voice is rough. "I can't get the bullet."

"Are you trying with that?" Your voice is flat, but you frown at the knife that sits on the tray.

"Can you help or not?"

You roll your eyes, taking off your mask to lay out the tweezers and thread a needle to suture him up. "It won't be pretty. You should probably get some real stitches before long." After setting up the light, you douse everything with alcohol and then pull the towel from his shoulder. He doesn't reply, and you don't bother to keep talking.

In-ho stays deathly still as you pull the bullet out. It was just a flesh wound, he was lucky. The round drops into the sink with a clink. You press some clean gauze onto his shoulder. He tore himself up trying to remove the bullet, but it doesn't seem to be bleeding much. He's trembling now, and you glance at him when he flinches, looking at the mirror.

You move to grasp the needle and thread, but he grips your wrist. His eyes are stone, staring you down. You stare back, barely breathing. In-ho snaps out of it, letting go of your wrist. You get to work and four sutures later, his shoulder has been wrapped.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

[storiesaplenty]

Bridgerton: Christmas 2024

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: fluff.

WC: 672

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Christmas light divider made by: @strangergraphics

"Be quiet now Benedict." You shush your husband.

"Why must we be here?" Benedict complained quietly in my ear.

You just gave him a look, not believing that he is truly complaining about being here.

"Because my dear Mr Bridgerton, this is your sister's Christmas eve party, and as such we need to be here for this." You reminded him.

"Is there a problem, dear brother?" Asked Daphne, who had one eyebrow raised, when the two of you looked over at her.

"No, no, nothing at all." He said to her, with a forced laugh.

He knew how she would be if he told her what the two of you were really talking about, this was her Christmas eve party after all.

"Hmmm, it seemed like the two of you were in a deep conversation, while ignoring the rest of us, Benedict." Anthony inquired, with a playful smirk upon his face, his own wife shushing him, and reminding him to behave himself.

"I didn't want to bring this to everyone's attention, but I am just feeling a bit under the weather." You said, trying to stop another Bridgerton spat.

"Are you feeling alright dear?" Violet asked you, a concerned look came over her face, but you could also see some glimmer of hope.

She has been waiting for you and Benedict to be with child, but that just hasn't happened yet.

"I am sure I am just tired. Been trying to make sure everything is set for tomorrow." You told her, and the rest of the family.

You and Benedict will be hosting Christmas dinner, and you just want to make sure everything is perfect.

"Well, I hope you are well enough to stay for the after dinner festivities." Simon asked, as he took a sip of his drink.

"I am well, thank you, but if I need too, I will stay out of one or two if that is alright?" You lied smoothy, pinching Benedict's upper thigh as you told lied for him.

You gave him a look once everyone's attention was now off of you. He owes you big time.

As the night went on, Benedict became more and more chipper. You could see how wide is smile was as he played the games.

You sitting off to the side, holding Penelope and Colin's son as he started to cry, you instantly calming him down.

You looked down at his adorable little face, wondering if yourself and Benedict will ever have a child.

You felt eyes on you, and you looked up to see your husband, who had a strange look on his face.

You instantly became concerned when he walked over to you, taking his nephew from your arms and placing him in his grandmother's arms, who is always more than happy to hold one of her grandchildren.

"We must be going." Benedict announced as he helped you up.

"Are you feeling worse my dear?" Violet asked as she gently rocked her grandson.

Before you could even talk, Benedict spoke for you. "It is I, mother. I do believe I have one too many drinks." You didn't have to look at Violet to see a look of slight disappointment on her face.

You thanked everyone for having you, and to see them all tomorrow.

As you sat in your carriage, it was silent. You wondering what came over Benedict suddenly.

You were lost in though until he placed his lips on yours, kissing you hard, making you squeal.

"I thought you were unwell Benedict?" You asked him once he pulled his mouth away, kissing down your neck.

"Seeing you with our nephew gave me plenty of thoughts." He said against your skin, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

"Now, let's go home and have our own Christmas eve party." He pulled away, sitting up and acting like he just kissed the life out of you.

Once you got back to your home, you spent all night together, celebrating Christmas eve in your own special way.

♥︎

Anthony Bridgerton ♥︎ Francesca Bridgerton

[c-h-i-m-e-s]

eita otoya x reader

content(s): aged up characters, mentions of alcohol and drinking

another friday, another party hosted by some random person. and somehow you've been finding yourself at one for the past few fridays. not that you have any problem with that, you're having fun with it to be honest. this or the next week might be the last week you go out partying before you force yourself to lock yourself in your dorm and start studying for exams.

you didn't think of yourself as a huge party person before, but now it might have changed.

it is fun anyways. you get free drinks and it also helps you relieve stress.

you gulp down your drink before you friend takes your hand and drags you to the dancefloor. you have enough drinks in your body to not feel awkward so you dance to the music along with one of your friends that you came with.

before you knew it though, you see your friend in arms of some other guy. you let her be and turn around as you feel someone close behind you.

"hi." it is a guy that you share some classes with, whose name you don't remember. "hey there." you grin and get a better look at him up close.

ignoring the voice in your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and enjoy the music with him. he snakes his arm around your waist, holding you close. while you enjoy your time with him, you also keep an eye on your friend to make sure she doesn't leave with some random guy.

you see her drinking with the guy and before you could bring your eyes back on the guy holding you, you see him. eita otoya.

there he is leaning against the wall while he has a girl with him, one arm around her stroking her hair and holding his drink with the other. the girl is kissing his neck all while he has his eyes locked on yours.

you did not like him. you didn't want him to be your boyfriend. no.

but still for some reason, you always found yourself looking for him in a room and wanting to get his attention.

you liked the attention and he knew exactly how to give you that attention.

you don't know what you'd call what you have with it. but there's something. you know it and knows it too.

there must really be something wrong with you with you way you crave for him. you might end up catching feelings for him. and even worse, you might get your heart broken by him.

tearing your eyes away from him, you pull away from the guy and bring his ear next to your lips to whisper, "i'm gonna go get a drink."

not wanting, and not caring about his reply, you walk away from him and towards the bar to get yourself a drink. you take a sip of it as soon as you get your hands on it. it burned your throat but it felt good.

you walk to the table where you were seated at the beginning of the night and see you other friend making out with her crush. you don't wanna interfere their sweet time so you walk away, searching for somewhere you could sit.

"hey y/n, come here." you hear someone call you as you are passing by the tables. you look at the one who called you and it is annie, a girl from your sociology class. she holds out her arms for you and without any hesitation, you go into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"hi babe." you finally let her go after a minute long hug and plop yourself next to her. she has a smirk on her face as she checks you out, "damn girl you look so hot." she winks at you and rests her head on your shoulder, "just let me be for a while. had too much.."

"mhmm.. i'll be right here with you." you link your arms together and rest your head on the couch behind. just as you close your eyes, you feel someone sit besides you, "you're looking really beautiful y/n." karasu tabito.

"you literally tell that to everyone." you chuckle and take a sip of your drink. "just take the damn compliment girl." he clicks his glass with yours and gulps it all down, "are you enjoying yourself?"

"uh huh. very much." you rest your head on top of annie's. "so.." he puts his now empty glass on the table and looks at you. you turn your head to him, waiting for him to continue, "anything happen between you and otoya?"

"aren't you like this with him?" you cross your index and middle finger in front of his face, "shouldn't you know about all his doings?"

he rolls his eyes, "i'm leaving that at that." he takes the glass from your hand and before you could process what he just did and protest, he gulps it all down. you dramatically gasp, putting your hand up in front of your chest, "you clown."

"i'll buy you a drink the next time we meet. promise." he puts the glass on the table again, "you looked like you were having fun with keiji?" you knit your brows together, taking a moment to think. you memory didn't do you any good though, "who?" he lets out an amused chuckle, "i cannot believe you. keiji, the guy you were dancing with before."

"oh!" you clap your hands together, "right that's what his name was."

"not very nice of you y/n." you roll your eyes at him, "why do you care anyway? is your little someone jealous?" you flash him an innocent smile.

"otoya? yeah actually." your smile drops and you furrow your brows. you scoff, shaking your head, "yeah right. him? jealous? spare me."

he moves closer to you, "i know. i was shocked myself. but trust me. he was fuming when he saw the two of you together." you are shocked because even if you did ask him, you didn't think he'd agree with you.

"uh.. right. whatever you say." you turn away from him, still not believing him and trying to convince yourself that whatever he just said is not true. before you could ask anything more about it though, you're graced by him presence, "heya." otoya.

he is looking right at you and you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him on your own. thankfully, before the very much obvious eye fucking could get any more obvious, with karasu still being between the two of you, annie lifts her head from your shoulder, "y/n.." right on time.

"hmm?" you turn to her, waiting for her to continue. she wraps her arms around your waist, "i need to use the bathroom. take me please." she lets her body fall on you. "gosh annie, come on let's go." you remove her arms from around your waist and put her one arm around your shoulder and grab it. you wrap your own arms around her waist and get up with her.

barely two steps ahead and you fall down, brining the half asleep girl down with you. even with the ringing of buzzing sound in your ears, you could still hear karasu let out one of the loudest laugh you've ever heard.

otoya comes near you and lifts annie from top of you. "a little help here as well please." you look up at him while the other is still laughing. he chuckles and gets lower to lend you a hand since he is still holding your friend with the other. you gratefully take his hand and get off of the floor. before you could lose your footing, he wraps his arm around your waist to hold you up.

"come here dude. i can't carry 'em both." he tells his friend who is somehow still laughing. "you fucker, it wasn't even funny." you shout at him. "oh please it was hilarious. shit should've been recording." he finally calms down a little and comes to the three of you. he takes annie away from his friend's arm and holds her, keeping her up.

you are getting ready to scream some more at him but all your attention goes to otoya when he holds you tighter and brings your body close to his own. he keeps his eyes on you as he holds you hand with his free one, " you okay?" you blink, taking a second to yourself and nod, "i think i drank a little too much."

"let's get these ladies to their stop." karasu starts walking ahead and your man does the same as well, keeping his arm around you as he guides you through the crowd. as you reach the bathroom, karasu stops and turns to look at you, "here, take her in."

it feels like all the drinks you had are finally taking their effects on you because your head is spinning and even though you heard the guy and knew that you had a girl to help, you are having a hard time just keeping yourself up.

"wait, i think i need a break.." you rest your head on otoya's chest, closing your eyes as you try to stay focused, "give me a minute."

"why did you have to drink more than you could handle dummy?" the white haired guy rests his hand on your lower back while brushing your hair away from your face with the other.

suddenly, annie seems to have a rush of energy and she moves away from karasu and comes to you, linking her arm with yours, "y/n, y-you need to come with me." she mumbles out her words.

"why you.." you blink your eyes to bring your focus on her, "you okay?" she brings her hands up to keep her hair away from her face and holds her head in her hands, "think i'm gonna puke. i can literally feel it here." she points to her throat and looks at you half open eyes, "you okay enough to hold my hair back?"

you turn to look at otoya, just because, and back to your friend, "i guess so. come on, let's get your puke out."

"why do you say that as if you're popping a baby out?" the rest three of you look at karasu, not even getting where that came from. his friend shakes his head, trying to hold back his laugh, "dude what?"

"how did.. stop before i throw up all on you." you hold onto each other and walk inside the bathroom, stumbling every few steps but getting in without falling.

like ten minutes later and she has washed up and is touching up her make up, hair still a mess. you laugh looking at her condition, "damn girl, you look funny." she puts her gloss back in her little purse and chuckles, "oh shut up." you hold onto her arm, not just for her but for yourself as well and exit the bathroom.

you see the two boys there, still waiting for you. as soon as otoya notices you, he nudges his friend and you both go towards them, "trying to act like gentlemen now?" annie chuckles at them. the raven haired boy starts bickering with her while his friend comes and stands next to you, "all good now?" you nod, looking at him with a small smile, "think so."

"let's get some more drinks." annie turns to look at you with a huge grin on her face. "just for you to puke again?" karasu shakes his head but he also isn't done for the night so in the next few minutes you lose the two of them who go to get some more drinks.

you awkwardly look around, to see if you get a sight of any of your friends that you came with. but when you see none of them, you look up at otoya only to find him already looking at you, "let's get a drink?" he smirks, a playful look on his face, "you sure you can handle any more?" you scoff at him, taking his hand in yours and walking through the crowd to the bar.

one you get your hands on your drinks, he keeps his free hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the overcrowded bar. you get to a place that is a little more calm and doesn't have people just pushing each other.

it is the unofficial place for those who are passed out or who are about to pass out and those who are done for the night. there aren't play empty seats so you two stand near a pillar. he leans against it, raising his glass to you. grinning, you click your glass together with his. he keeps his hand around your waist, helping you keep up straight. you wrap your own arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest.

you know it in your head that you're so gonna regret what you are doing right now. but you blame it on your drunk self for it and ignore the voices in your head. this is a problem for the future you and you do not care about anything else right now.

he takes the now empty glass from your hand and sets it in the table and comes back to you. he pulls you closer to him, like you aren't plastered onto him right now. you could feel him everywhere on you, especially how he is massaging the exposed skin on your waist. you curse at yourself as you pull away your head, just enough to look at him and notice the lipstick marks on his neck. it must have been from the girl earlier.

you frown, getting jealous at the sigh. you put your hand on his neck, trying to act as natural as you could about it while softly rubbing away the stain with your thumb. you cannot believe you are getting mad about some girl leaving her mark on him. what has your life come to?

you hear him chuckle, brining you out of your thoughts and you look at him. he is looking at you with a sly grin on his face, catching you in the act. you frown at him, acting as if what you are doing is just very normal for you to do, "what?"

"don't like that?" he asks, referring to the lipstick mark on him. you roll you eye at him, harshly rubbing if off since he has already caught you, "doesn't look good on you." you rub the lipstick from your fingers on your black skirt. no one's gonna notice that and it's going in the wash anyways.

he puts his hands on either sides of you hips, holding you firmly, "jealousy looks good on you." you let out a chuckle, holding his jaw in your palm and bringing your face closer to his, "it looks good on you as well." he keeps his eyes on yours, slowly leaning into you and before you knew it, he is kissing you.

you instantly bring one of your hands on the back of his head, pulling him closer. he smirks into the kiss, trailing over your lips before you let him in. as soon as you open your mouth for him, his tongue slips in, tangling with yours in a heated kiss. he brings his hand up to hold your face and tilt your head.

you softly tug on his lower lip before pulling away from him. your face breaks into a huge grin as soon as you see his face. you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him to plant a soft peck on his lips, "my heels are killing me." you lets your body rest on his. he gladly, holds you, having his arm around your waist and the other on upper back side, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"let's get your pretty ass somewhere to sit, yeah?" you laugh with him and he guides you away to some other side of the place. there you see a random empty wingchair so he takes the chair, tapping on his lap, "come here, pretty."

you smirk and sit on his lap sideways, so you can keep your eyes on him. you move his front hairs to the side to get a proper look at his face, "so.." you place a hand on his chest and look at him. you try to keep a straight face but burst into a grinning mess, "i heard from a certain someone that you were not happy to see me with kenji?"

he chuckles, keeping his hands on the sides of your hips, "it was keiji, sweetheart." normally, you'd be embarrassed but right now, you're too drunk and into the moment to even care. "so you were jealous huh. i almost didn't believe him." you rest your forehead on his shoulder, closing you eyes hoping that'd help you sober up and have this conversation.

he does not say anything after that, just strokes your hair while you rest on him. a couple of minutes later, you raise your head and look at him, "i'm gonna fall asleep here like this." he smirks, looking at your lips before meeting your eyes, "just sleep then. aren't you tired?"

you shake your head, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning closer to him, "let's get out of here." he holds your face in one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, "you're just drunk y/n, you don't wanna leave with me." you place your own hand on top of his, speaking firmly, "i know what i am saying."

you look at him with pleading eyes, pouting a little. he just looks at you for awhile and sighs, "you make it hard for me to say no when you're looking at me like that." he sighs and nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses.

"so just agree with me." you tilt your head and move your hair away, giving him more access. "you wouldn't be saying that if you were sober." he works his way up you jaw. "how would you know that?" he reaches your lips and stops, barely away from kissing you.

taking a good look at your face, he sighs again, "fine, let's go." your face lightens you and your cups his face, placing a quick, soft kiss on his lips, "wasn't so hard to make you agree." you get up from his lap and he joins you, holding your hand in his and guiding you away.

as soon as you reach out, you text the group chat, letting your girl's know you're okay and leaving first. they're gonna have to wait to know who you're leaving with and what else happened or is about to happen.

"wanna go see sunrise?" he looks at you to see if you're okay with that. you excitedly nod your head at him and check the time on your phone. its's already four in the morning.

as you both reach his car, you realize something, "aren't you drunk? can you drive?" he looks at you, "i didn't drink a lot, unlike a certain someone and i don't think there will be cops this early in the morning. and if they are.." he shrugs, "guess we'll at least be together in the station."

he opens the passenger side door for you to get in, which you do. he joins you inside the car and starts the engine. "are you sure? we can just.. i don't know, walk around?" you are still not very sure about him driving, and him being so chill about getting caught.

"don't worry your pretty little head too much. i'll make sure nothing happens, yeah?" he leans into you and just as you think he's going to kiss you, he grabs the seatbelt and secures it around you.

moving away from you, he puts his own seatbelt and drives away. the roads are empty and the street lights still on, making the moment seem very peaceful.

you roll the window down and let the wind hit you, making you feel like you're having your main character moment. the car drives out the city and into a more suburb area. there aren't a lot of buildings and the ones that are standing are small ones, in distance with one another.

you turn your head to look at him while you fix your hair ruined by the wind. he has his one hand on the steering and elbow of the other resting on the window seal, blessing you with such a mouthwatering sight. before your mind could process the thought, the words fall out of your lips, "you look so hot right now."

surprised by your sudden bold comment, he looks at your for a moment before focusing his eyes back on the road, "is that you or the drinks speaking?"

you're pretty sure you would have said something no matter if you did drink or not. with the constant flirting and random physical touches throughout the semester, saying that you're confused by him would be an understatement. he picks you as his partner any chance he gets and even shows you off to his friends. then the next week, it's like the previous week didn't happen between the two of you and you both act like you don't even know each other.

soon you both reach the top of a hill and he parks his car at a spot. the chill wind hits you as soon as you get out, making your wrap your arms around yourself. he comes next to you, wrapping his own arm around you and keeping you close to him to keep you warm.

you both stand near the cliff, looking at the view in front of you. "did you bring me here to push me to death as some kind of revenge?" he chuckles, "i would never do anything bad to you y/n, and you know that." liar. he looks deep into your eyes, like he is trying to gaze into your soul.

feeling shy, you look away first, "stop looking at me like that." he acts like he doesn't know what you mean and tilts his head, "what could you possibly mean?" he smirks, holding your arms to bring you closer to him. you almost stumble and you put your hand on his shoulder, leaning close to him and whispering, "kiss me."

he lets out a soft laugh, keeping his hands on the either sides of your waist, "that's what we've been doing for the past hours." you tilt your head, raising an brow, "so you're done with me now?"

he brings his hand to hold your jaw, "i can never be done with you. i can never have enough of you." you feel your heartbeat starting to beat faster than it's supposed to but you keep your face straight, "you must have said that same thing to so many girls, eita."

he rests his forehead on yours, stroking your face, "mm.. maybe but i was very serious when i said them to you."

it could very much be a lie and you are making a fool out of yourself when you decide to believe those words and bring your lips on his to kiss him. but for now, you just wanna enjoy this moment and him.

[chiisana-sukima]

Hello, what do you think about the take, and what Dean says in that one episode, that Sam is not like John than Dean?

Hi, Nonny! Thanks for the ask!

I'm guessing the episode you mean is 04x19 Jump the Shark, where Dean says Sam is more like John than he himself (Dean) ever was. If not, my apologies for misinterpreting, and I hope this is interesting anyway.

Imo accusations in spn of someone being like John are mainly about four things: anger, stubbornness, the desire for revenge, and child endangerment. And about those, my main thought is this:

image source

I do think early spn makes comparisons between John and Sam that are intended to represent character flaws Sam needs to struggle against and overcome. Sam is sometimes angry, he's often very stubborn, and there are multiple seasons where he's driven in part by desire for revenge. For better or worse though, I don't find the comparison very compelling; mainly because anger, stubbornness, and desire for revenge are all morally neutral. The only actual bastard in that combo up above is the child endangerment, which isn't really relevant to early seasons Sam.

Anger, and even hate, don't actually lead to the dark side of the Force; maladaptive responses to emotions do. Whether one wants to go to Blackwater Ridge like Dad said to practice one's vigilante serial killing profession or search for Jessica's murderer to do the same is not the compelling ethical problem spn makes it out to be. Either option results in killing (people-like-)monsters that are killing people while being too busy to kill other (people-like-)monsters that are killing other people. And everyone who's dead at the end of the day is equally dead regardless of whether one's motive was "pure" (saving people) or "stained" (revenge).

To give spn what credit it's due, s4, where this comparison from Dean occurs, *is* the closest Sam ever comes to having anger and desire for revenge drive him into maladaptive and harmful behavior. Especially in the flashback scenes to when Dean was in Hell, Sam is at least having a really rough time of it, even if he still honestly seems to not be harming anyone (more than usual for a hunter) but himself.

Any moral dimension is significantly undercut by the fact that Sam's kill count in s4 is not especially high (Sam 9/Dean 10), as well as by the fact that the behavior Dean doesn't approve of is saving possessed hosts instead of offing them indiscriminately as collateral damage to get at the demons inhabiting them.

And this quote itself is especially weirdly vibes-over-substance in that Dean is just disillusioned with Sam because Sam is disillusioned with life. There is no actual moral element to discuss. Adam was long dead before they got there. Sam is technically on the correct end of the argument: being left in the dark--the path Dean was advocating throughout the episode, and that he's bitter in this speech that Sam disagreed with him on--did possibly factor into getting Adam and his mom killed. Certainly Sam disagreeing with Dean in the present did not. But honestly, who cares either way? None of it is relevant now. Dead is dead, and neither Sam nor Dean had anything to do with it or has anything to be ashamed of.

Which brings me to the one thing the person who did have something to do with it actually should have been ashamed of: John treated all his kids badly. Whether he was motivated by anger and a desire for revenge or by fear for their safety or the side effects of alcoholism or not being able to keep it in his pants or whatever else is really only minimally relevant in terms of how much harm his behavior caused them.

And while I'm not a huge fan of the "Dean is Sam's parent" reading of spn, there's no doubt that because of John's neglect and parentification of Dean, Dean often feels like he was functionally Sam's parent. Which is fine! Feelings are neutral! But he also conducts his half of their relationship from within that paradigm; which is not great in the show's present because Sam is an adult.

And given all that, lets get back to Dean's "you were more like him than I'll ever be". Who, by the end of the season, is endangering their "child" here? Who, in Levee, puts their own needs and the needs of the hunt above the life of the person they (feel they) raised? Who says "You walk out that door, don't you ever come back"? And how likely do we all think it is that the writers didn't do that on purpose?

[whats-she-gonna-post-next]

You take requests for Flower Husbands votes, right? Can I ask for a Flower Husbands ‘Drabble’ as you put it in your reblog? /nf

Hello, hi, yes, sorry this took so long! As an apology, have 1.5k words!

This was... originally going to be a lot angstier, then it was going to be way worse. Then I settled on this, which I will call a hopeful ending.

-

Scott never liked the idea of soulmates. The idea that someone out there is predetermined to be perfect just for him? Yeah right. Scott knew first hand what happened when soulmates weren't meant for each other, he knew how easily resentment for being trapped could foster anger, knew what happened to broken dreams and shattered promises. After all, he bore the scars to prove it.

He remembered sitting among shattered glass and splintered wood at eight years old, staring at the bloodstained skin of his ribs that hid freshly inscribed poppy red words and deciding then and there that they didn't matter. He would never meet his soulmate.

He would not turn into his parents.

-

Going to college was a breath of fresh air. Scott had worked his ass off all through high school, getting good grades, doing volunteer work, immersing himself in extra curriculars, all to insure he could get as many scholarships as possible, moving across the country to Empire Univeristy to get a fresh start. It was nice, being our from under his parents, able to do things he wouldn't have risked back home for fear of upsetting his parents. He decided to study theatre, he dyed his hair a bright cyan, he stayed out late, he drank, he made friends, went to parties.

It was at one of these parties where Scott's problems started.

-

Scott was a drink and a half deep when Skizz - an upperclassmen in Scott's program and the parties host - called for his attention.

"Smajor! Come here!" Skizz's voice was boisterous and excited, and with anyone else Scott would have assumed they were drunk, but he knew better. Skizz was just like that, and he never drank more than maybe one drink over the course of the night when he was hosting, "I wanna introduce you to someone."

Scott slid over to Skizz, smiling at the cute blond by his side who looked a little out of place.

"Ah! Perfect!" Skizz's excitement was contagious, "Scott, this is Jimmy. Top's taken him under his wing, since they're both in the architecture program, and I figured since you're both first years you could bond over that and the fact that youd been stollen by upperclassmen in your programs."

Scott laughed at his words, wasn't that just like Skizz, trying to make everyone comfortable. Turning back to the blond, he held out his hand, "Hey, how are you finding things?"

Scott had gotten introductions down to a science, always careful to keep his words generic and simple, something that could be said by anyone in any sort of situation.

"I’m pretending to be sociable, how about you?" It takes every ounce of self-control and theater training Scott has in order to not react. He knows it wasn't the case, but he swore for a moment, his hip burned.

Choking out a laugh, Scott gave him a nonsense answer, ignoring the slightly crestfallen look on Jimmy's face, and continuing on his night.

So what if his soulmate was at his college. It was a big campus. He'd probably never see him after this party.

-

Scott was wrong about that.

Suddenly it seemed like Jimmy was everywhere. Skizz hadn't been lying about Tango having taken Jimmy under his wing, and since Scott hung out with Skizz a lot, and Skizz and his soulmate Impulse was best friends with Tango, Jimmy started cropping up at a lot of their hangouts.

Not that Scott could bring himself to truly be upset. Jimmy, as it turned out, was lovely to be around. He was kind without effort, and funny, even when he didn't mean to be. He was entirely endearing, never pushing if Scott seemed to be uncomfortable, and always backing off when he realized he hit a boundary of some sort.

Scott never planned to like Jimmy, but somehow he and his sweet brown eyes wormed their way past Scott's defenses, and he figured he could live with being friends.

It's not like there would be any escalating from there.

-

Scott really ought to stop making assumptions when it came to Jimmy.

At a new years party hosted by Tango in their second years of uni, Jimmy asked Scott out.

"I really like you," He had said, words dripping with honey and a hint of vodka, "I like the way you laugh, the was you always seem to be two steps ahead, your eye for detail, and the way you light up when you are on stage."

And Scott, with a slightly rye tinged look on life at that moment, had agree.

"I like you too," the words weren't a lie, but they almost burned like one, "your sweet, and kind, and you always manage to cheer me up when I'm upset. I like your excitement over a challenging project and the way you stick you tongue out slightly when you are concentrating hard enough."

Scott didn't know why exactly he said yes, but he would hope he wouldn't regret it.

-

Scott never took his shirt off around Jimmy.

To his luck, Jimmy didn't complain about the boundary, happy to let Scott sport t-shirts and tank tops, no matter the situation, and Scott fell a little more in love with him foe it. He wanted to tell Jimmy the truth, bit fear kept it locked behind his teeth.

"I have scars," the half truth was somber, he watched his hands so Jimmy could ready the hidden half in his eyes, "my parents were soulmates, and neither of them were particularly happy about it.

"I just happened to be a reminder of both of them to the other."

And Jimmy had held him as tears blurred his vision and swore that he'd never judge Scott for his scars, but he would push if he didn't want to show him them.

Scott cried harder.

He didn't think he deserved understanding.

-

Jimmy suggested they move in together as the end of their theird year was coming about. Scott choked on the water he had taken a sip of, and Jimmy had thumped his back until his airway cleared, apologizing.

"It's just, we spend most of our time together anyways," He explained, no expectations in his voice, "and I figured since our leases are coming up, we could just find somewhere together, but if you'd rather not-"

Scott cut him off with a kiss.

Jimmy was right after all, when Scott had finished packing, two and a half boxes were just stuff Jimmy had left at his apartment over the course of their relationship.

-

In the end, it was Jimmy who ended up being Scott's downfall.

Or more specifically, Jimmy shirt.

Scott had been half asleep against Jimmy as they watched a movie, wrapped in a pair of sweats and one of Jimmy's oversized shirts that absolutely swamped him. He had slowly been slipping more horizontal as the movie played and hadn't realized the shirt had gotten snagged between them, ridding up ever so slightly more with each inch Scott sank.

He could blame Jimmy for look, especially when the bright red stood out against his skin like blood.

Scott couldn't even remember the ensuing argument. Or, well, an argument implied that Scott was fight back. He'd been jostled awake by Jimmy's sudden movement, groggy until the realization of what Jimmy was freaking out over. He'd brought his hand to cover the words instinctual as he was questioned.

"Why did you never say anything?" Everything lead back to that, and Scott couldn't answer.

"Why did you never say anything?" Scott asked himself as he sunk to the ground, undeserved tears clouding his eyes and the resounding click of the front door being closed ringing in his ears.

"Why did you never say anything?"

-

Scott almost didn't expect Jimmy to come back. A little stupid on his end, as it was Jimmy's apartment as well, and he'd need to, at the very least, collect some of his stuff until Scott was able to move out.

Still, the sound of the door opening sent relief through Scott from where he'd set up a bed in the couch.

Jimmy deserved to get the bed. Scott wouldn't take it, even if he hadn't been sure Jimmy would be back that night.

He waited for the footsteps to go the bedroom, confused when instead they made their way over to the couch.

He kept his eyes closed. Hoping maybe Jimmy would think he was asleep and leave him be.

"I'm so sorry, baby," the words were whisper soft, and Scott wouldn't have been able to keep the furrow from his brow if he tried, "You told me when we first started dating about your scars, about why you had them. I should have understood why you would do what you did, but I just yelled."

Scott cracked his eyes open, summer sky meeting milk chocolate, and he was surprised to see Jimmy crack a smile when he did.

"I'm not saying I'm not... upset," his words were careful, searching, "and I can't say this hasn't changed anything. But nothing is broken that can't be fix."

And he was right, come later there were be long talks and discussions of everything, there would be tears and apologies and fixing things would be no small feat, but they would heal.

Nothing broken couldn't be fixed.

[paper-mario-wiki]

Hi scout! First time messenger long time follower :) i am joining the art debate because I too love arguing with people for fun

I like your move of defining goodness and badness for the purpose of the argument; I'm breaking your argument down as 'goodness is something that exists objectively but that is subjectively perceived' -> 'things that are of material benefit are objectively good' -> 'art has no material benefit' -> 'art is not good' (read: art is neutral).

I like this take a lot, but I would push at the premise that 'art has no material benefit'. I would counter that art can either be materially harmful or materially beneficial. Mount rushmore is an example of, under this definition, 'bad' art; it might cause subjectively good feelings in its viewers but has a materially negative impact on its environment and on the ecosystem it was created in, it is deleterious to the environment, etc. 'Good' art, then, might be those submerged sculptures that are used as surfaces to grow coral reefs. If we are defining 'good' or 'bad' from this objective frame (earlier you used the example of something being objectively healthy while subjectively not tasting good), then we might find art that falls into either of these camps :)

Curious to hear your thoughts! Thanks for hosting debate night o7

i appreciate your interest!

the problem is this: as already discussed, art as it exists by itself, which exists as art primarily, is something that cannot be objectively good. there are things which can be artfully created which can be good (re: a children's hospital built by a genius architect), but that is something that is already good which is only enhanced by being artistically pleasing (a la the reef sculptures).

now that you bring it up, it might also be worth appending to that argument that there also exists things that can be artfully created that are objectively bad (a la your rushmore example), though that doesn't change the conclusion of the argument. in fact, we can extrapolate that any art which does not justify the means of its own creation (whether this be by the ethics surrounding what it portrays/its method of creation, or even just a movie which doesn't make up for its budget in revenue or public interest) should be considered at least somewhat worse than neutral. though i think on a small scale like "a drawing i made that nobody cared about", it wouldn't really even be considered worth measuring. it is only virtually, hypothetically worse than neutral.

[enjoythesilentworld]

Simon's Month - (Just if a little more than a) Friendship

day 17 @youngroyals-events tack<3

Simon is someone Wille regularly breaks rules for. (A just if for a minute flashback.)

read below or on ao3 (T, 2.3k)

It was odd, really, that moving into a small, barely two-bedroom apartment with Simon would be so much harder than the dorms had ever been. Their dorm room was at least a quarter of the size, only a handful of meters separating their beds, and Wille had handled it just fine. Perhaps it was the fact that their room was so small, so they usually opted to spend their time elsewhere, lounging in the common room or studying in the campus coffee shop. Perhaps it was that the first year of university was such a whirlwind, so Wille didn’t have as much time to anguish over his undying and unrequited love for his best friend. 

In their new apartment, it only took one week for Wille to realize this was going to be a very big problem. He already had a long list of rules for avoiding accidentally exposing said undying, unrequited love to Simon, but mostly for keeping himself sane. In the last week, he’d scribbled down about fifteen more rules into his ratty notebook. 

#36 Don’t stand in the kitchen while Simon is making breakfast. Too domestic! #41 Invest in an aircon unit? Hot summer + No AC = Shirtless Simon = DANGEROUS #43 Simon likes to sing in the shower. Somehow so much better worse than hearing his normal singing. Buy noise-canceling headphones ASAP!

Considering the hell Wille had been through already, he was in dire need of a distraction. Preferably a non-Simon shaped distraction. There was a party going on at their friends’ house across town tonight, and Wille had a plan.

His plan went to shit pretty quickly because Simon exited his room wearing a tight little shirt and baggy pants, one perfect inch of brown skin peaking through across his midriff. Another curse of the hot summer, and of Simon’s new personal mission to expand on his fashion choices. Wille was already crafting a strongly-worded text message to Maddie for encouraging Simon to buy that crop top.

“You ready?” Simon asked, unaware of the crisis he was causing in Wille, retrieving his keys and clipping the carabiner on a belt loop.

When Wille didn’t answer, Simon looked over his shoulder at him, then smiled, “You look nice.”

Wille glanced self-consciously down at his own, very basic outfit. If either of them were going to pull tonight, it would surely be Simon.

“Thanks. You, too,” he mumbled, trying to hide his blush by heading to the front door. “Let’s go.”

On the walk over, Wille managed to pull himself together. Chatting with Simon loosened him up and reminded him that he could be in love with Simon as long as he ignored it, because Simon was very fun to be around, and he did not want to ruin what they had. What they had was a wonderful friendship built over many years, and keeping that alive was very important to Wille, no matter his own personal dealings.

By the time they made it to the house party, they were both laughing loudly at each other, the result of some ridiculous joke they’d carried on way too long, and Wille had almost completely forgotten Simon was wearing a crop top. (Except, not really, because as they approached the front door, Simon threw his arm around Wille’s shoulder, causing the shirt to ride up a bit further, which was totally fine.)

Simon didn’t even knock, the pounding music inside an invitation enough, just opened the door and pulled Wille right inside. Not three steps in, they were greeted by one of the hosts.

“Simme!” Ayub shouted, bringing Simon into a big bear hug and causing him to release his grip on Wille. “What took you guys so long? Wille! Get over here!”

Wille, too, was pulled into a big hug, then they were both shooed off towards the kitchen where all the drinks were being stored. They ran into a few more friends along the way: Henry and Alex, wrapped up in a tense game of beer pong; Maddie and Rosh, intertwined on the dancefloor. Maddie yelled over the music to compliment Simon on his shirt, and he laughed wildly, tugging Wille the rest of the way into the kitchen. Inside, they found Felice and Sara, who immediately offered up drinks.

The rest of the night passed in a blissful blur of dim lights and sweet drinks and Simon’s laughter. Though it seemed everyone in the place noticed Simon as he walked by, glowing in the colored lamps, Simon never spared anyone else a second glance, nor did he stray far from Wille’s side. All through the evening, they hovered near each other, likely out of habit for Simon. He knew Wille sometimes got a little anxious in larger crowds, so Simon was probably doing so to keep an eye on him. It was very sweet of him, but Wille almost wished he wouldn’t, because Wille didn’t actually get nervous in big crowds; it was Simon that made him nervous.

As the drinks flowed and the music amped up, Wille relaxed further, and so did Simon. Their group of friends migrated to the dance floor and everyone smushed together, sweaty and out of breath, but oh-so-carefree in that way that’s only possible when you’re three drinks deep and young enough to still be able to ignore the problems of the world for a little while.

Wille danced with Felice, and then Maddie, until eventually, inevitably, he and Simon swung back into each other’s orbit.

Simon’s shirt had ridden up further and his hair, damp with sweat, was curlier than usual, almost reminiscent of when he’d just gotten out of the shower. His smile split his face in the most beautiful way, and he looked so joyous, and he took Wille’s hand, pulling him closer and spinning him to the music.

They danced close, mostly innocent, shouting the lyrics to every song and giggling when they fell into each other. Wille was so happy, in enough of a limbo that he could pretend he and Simon were more than just best friends.

Sometime after 2am, once things had mellowed out and people began to collapse onto the couches or the floor, he and Simon each chugged a water bottle, then tumbled back onto the street.

It wasn’t too long of a walk home, and the night was cool, and they had each other, so they wandered down the streets, still giddy from all the dancing and joking with their friends. Simon insisted he knew the way and wouldn’t hear otherwise. Wille let him lead them down a few streets, very much going the wrong way, then he managed to corral them back in the right direction. It took them twice as long than it should’ve to get home, but they were having such a wonderful time and neither of them had anything to do the next day, so it was fine.

An extra perk was that Simon got touchy after one or two drinks. They were already pretty physical with each other — even when Wille had the wherewithal to follow his rules — but they’d been touching pretty much the whole way home. Simon’s arm around Wille’s waist, or Simon’s hand in his. Neither of them were that intoxicated, they’d both stopped drinking hours ago, but something about the night lowered the walls on both of them.

(Wille was sure that, if he wasn’t so conscious of their touching and often extracting himself from Simon’s grip to avoid doing something stupid, Simon would be touchy like this all the time. As much as it had pained him to realize that, it was important to Wille to limit their physical contact, because it meant a lot more to Wille than it did to Simon.)

Shushing each other and smothering giggles the whole way up the stairs, they eventually made it back through the front door of their apartment. Simon complained about being hungry and Wille noticed his stomach felt rather empty, too, so they raided their cabinets for the few snacks they’d accumulated since they’d moved in.

“She was staring at you the whole night, Wilhelm,” Simon sighed, flopping back into the couch and sending a few pieces of popcorn scattering around him.

Wille rolled his eyes and settled down next to him. “Sure.”

“She was!”

“I’m not really interested in her, anyway.”

“Ugh! You’re so boring!”

Wille laughed and jostled Simon for his dramatics.

“What about that guy Ben, though?” Wille teased, diverting the conversation.

Simon groaned and waved his hands wildly, as if swatting away the suggestion. “No way. He looks too much like you.”

“Hey!” Wille gasped, then reached out for a handful of popcorn and chucked it at Simon.

Simon laughed wildly, swatting away the kernels and pouncing onto Wille. The bowl fell to the floor and spilled across the hardwood (thankfully, they hadn’t bought a rug yet). His hands found Wille’s wrists, trying and failing to get them under his control, but Wille had quite a few inches on Simon and easily fought back. They cursed at each other, with no real bite, wrestling for the upper hand and half giggling through insults.

Wille had fallen back to lay flat on the cushions, but thanks to his size was not disadvantaged because of it. He was about to win when he realized Simon had somehow ended up straddled over him, knees bracketing Wille’s hips into the couch. In the realization, he hesitated, and Simon used that pause in resistance to pin Wille’s wrists to the couch, too.

“Ha!” he burst out, “I win!”

He was looking down at Wille with a proud grin, though it quickly faded as he, too, seemed to notice their position.

Wille had imagined this a million times, Simon hovering over him, wide eyed, eyes flickering across Wille’s face. But, no amount of daydreams could’ve prepared him for the real moment.

Simon’s eyes flickered down to Wille’s lips, then he inched down slightly, and Wille sucked in a breath. His brain was a loud battle of two very differing sides.

Please do. Please don’t. Please do. Please, Simon.

Whether he read it in Wille’s eyes, or was simply caught up in the moment, Simon surged the rest of the way down and connected their lips in a searing kiss. Immediately, Wille kissed him back and pushed against his restraints. Simon released his wrists, hands tangling into Wille’s hair instead, and Wille brought his newly freed hands around to cup the back of Simon’s neck, to pull him closer.

They’d kissed before, under circumstances very similar to this. In the late night, in the dark, just the two of them. It always ended the same. Wille knew this time wouldn’t be any different, but he’d take what he could get.

Hands roved from twisting into hair, down to grip waists and press fingertips into hip bones. Simon moaned softly into his mouth when Wille nipped at his bottom lip, and Wille savored the sound, knowing it would be a long while before he got to hear again. He licked into Simon’s mouth, tasting his cherry chapstick, the sweet liquor from shots earlier that night, the coke he’d been drinking for the last hour of the party. Every gasp, every breathy moan he was able to pull from Simon spurred him further, pulling out every skill he’d ever learned so that Simon would never stop kissing him.

Simon’s hips remained hovering, leaving a good space between their groins, which was probably for the best because Simon did not need to know how Wille was feeling after a few minutes of kissing. Was it a few minutes? Wille wasn’t sure. It could’ve been an hour, he didn’t want to think about it because there was a time limit on this sort of thing, a line that couldn’t be passed if they wanted to remain friends. If he didn’t pay attention to the time, maybe Simon wouldn’t either and they could just—

Abruptly, Simon pulled back and scrambled off Wille, toppling onto the floor. Pieces of popcorn crunched loudly under him as he fell, replacing the loud sounds of their kissing.

Wille coughed awkwardly, “Are you okay?”

Simon stared up at him with wide eyes, still frozen on the floor, then rushed to climb to his feet, brushing the popcorn from his pants. “Y—yeah. I just— I’m gonna go to bed.”

As quickly as he’d leaned down to kiss Wille, Simon was spinning around and bolting to his bedroom.

Wille struggled to breathe through the crushing sensation in his chest.

He knew exactly what was going to happen, and yet he let it happen anyway, and would continue to let it happen because this was Simon and even if he couldn’t have him for real, he’d have him like this. In stolen moments, at the end of long nights, even for a moment. Maybe that made him a horrible person, maybe it made him a coward. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, because despite the fact that he could barely breath, despite the fact that Simon had taken Wille’s heart with him when he’d fled, Wille would do it over and over again. To taste him, to hear him, to feel him like that, a glimpse of a different version of them, in some other lifetime where Wille was braver and Simon wasn’t just his best friend.

After some amount of time, Wille managed to sit up off the couch and wander back to his own, empty, cold bed.

The next morning, he lingered in his room as long as he could until his stomach protested strong enough to force him out to the kitchen. Simon was already out there, standing by the stove, frying eggs. He gestured to the coffee pot and told Wille to help himself, like everything was normal. When they sat down together for breakfast, the only acknowledgement of the night before was a casual joke from Simon about the crushed popcorn on their living room floor.