#we have been friends and sort of hooking up for almost an year now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raven-dor · 14 days ago

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i wanna be yours

in which gwayne hightower is entranced by his sister’s best friend

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x fem!reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, obliviousness, denial, delusion, slight angst, FLUFF ENDING

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

🎶 : i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

AN: sorry for how long this is!!

“Come along, Y/N!” Rhaenyra yelled. “The flowers will still be there when we return.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She sighed, hooking her arm through the princesses. “They only bloom once a year. I am simply taking in their beauty before they wilt.”

“I understand. Unfortunately for you, I now need a chaperone to walk my own halls, as every lord in the land vies for my hand.”

“Oh, poor poor Rhaenyra.” Y/N teased. “I can only imagine.”

“Rhaenyra, Y/N!” The girls turned around, Alicent running toward them with a young man in tow.

Y/N leaned over, whispering in Rhaenyra’s ear. “It seems even your own friends are playing matchmaker.”

Rhaenyra laughed, coughing to cover it up. Alicent looked suspiciously at Y/N. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, Alicent, nothing at all.”

“Oh, never mind.” She pulled the man forward. “May I introduce my brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown. He’s just arrived for the tourney.”

Alicent’s brother was handsome: tall, with auburn hair and deep blue eyes. One could tell from a single glance he and Alicent were related. Freckles adorned his face, and Y/N could only assume it was from his ample time outdoors. She curtsied quickly, staring at the ground.

Rhaenyra smiled politely. “Ser Hightower.”

Gwayne bowed, kissing Rhaenyra’s hand. “Princess.”

Protocol regarding courting was odd and often confusing. With different social statuses came different rules. The Princess was the highest ranking of the two girls before him; thus, he would kiss Rhaenyra’s hand last. It was an honest mistake, a lapse in judgment, Y/N was sure. Odd, she’d thought to herself, she assumed that Gwayne was taught these sorts of things.

Her eyes drifted back to his, holding back a gasp as he extended his hand to her, after Rhaenyra. She placed hers in his palm hesitantly. He bowed once more, his hold gentle, like he was scared to break her. His lips were soft, and her cheeks turned bright red from the touch, eyes wide with shock.

She realized, amid her thinking, that Alicent and Rhaenyra had been taunting her, much too entertained by this simple encounter. Y/N ripped her hand away; any passerby would have thought it was on fire.

“My lady.”

She’d almost frowned. “I am no lady, Ser.” Entertaining the thought of him would only come back to haunt her, she told herself. The entire point of the tourney was to field potential suitors for the Princess, none were here for the ward of the crown, an orphaned bastard in her own right. He was attractive, there was no denying it. The way his eyes twinkled, or the way his hair fell over his eyes, or when his smile-

“Oh?” The young man frowned, his voice snapping her back to life. Her cheeks were still flushed. This avoiding business would prove to be harder than she previously thought. “My mistake. You are the very picture of a lady, I must say.”

Their spectators gasped. Y/N scoffed. “Do not think you can mock me, Ser.” She tightened her hold on Rhaenyra’s arm. “If you will excuse us…”

Not bothering to wait for a response, she turned around, dragging the princess along with her. Rhaenyra whispered, nudging her friend. “I believe he was smitten.”

Y/N shook her head. “And I believe it was all a game, most likely a way to make you jealous.” Her heart clenched at the thought. “Just a game.”

Rhaenyra’s room was a disaster, but when had it not been?

For as long as either of the Princess’s companions could remember, her suite had been covered with gowns and riding suits thrown haphazardly on the floor.

Not that either of the other girls cared, they were happy to lay on the Princess’s plush cushions, taking in the sun as it filled the room. Y/N’s head hung off the sofa, laughing as her friend ran through her closet. “If it were any larger, you would get lost inside.”

Rhaenyra stuck her tongue out. “I would be content with just my riding suit, thank you very much.”

Alicent laughed. “You know you’d rather die than look simple. You live for fine silks and designs-”

Y/N nodded, doing her best to imitate the Princess. “Oh Y/N fetch the purple dress, will you? Fetch the red dress! No, not that one. The one with the jewels. No not that one, the other-” A pillow slammed against her face, and she giggled, holding her hands up defensively. “Mercy, I beg of you!”

“You could have had all this.” Rhaenyra sat beside the girl, whispering. “If my father simply acknowledged-”

“That my mother gave birth to me out of wedlock? No amount of Targaryen blood can excuse that dishonor.” Y/N sat up, frowning. “It does no good to dwell, Rhaenyra. Besides, I am content with the life I lead, spending time with my favorite cousin.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “I am your only cousin.”

“Not true.” She laughed. “There is Daemon and-”

“My brother seems rather taken with you, I must say.” Y/N’s heart broke at the thought of Gwayne being smitten with Rhaenyra.

Why, she could not quite place. “Hear that ‘Nyra? I told you I was-”

“I was talking to you, Y/N,” Alicent smirked.

Her cheeks grew hot, her hands itching to cover her face. “You must be mistaken.”

“Do you truly think so little of him?” The auburn-haired girl reached out, grabbing Y/N’s hand comfortingly. “I assure you, he is honorable and loyal to a fault.”

“I am sure he is.” Y/N smiled. “He must be leaving soon, now that the tournament is nearly over.”

Rhaenyra smirked. “I must say, it was not as extensive as I would have liked.”

“Really?” Y/N laughed. “It has already been a fortnight since its beginning.”

“And if the Princess feels it is not finished…” Rhaenyra wiggled her eyebrows. “The Princess will announce an extension.”

Alicent giggled. “Or rather your father.”

“My lady.”

She’d almost escaped. Y/N sighed, turning around. “My lord.”

She had seen the man following her for quite a while, hoping that he was merely visiting the library. She bowed quickly. “How may I be of service?” Lord Frey’s scent could make a man grown faint. She felt the bile rise as he took a step closer, whispering.

“I was wondering if you could put in a word with your Princess.”

She nodded. “What would you like me to relay?”

“Well-” His ‘kind’ facade was cracking. If he could barely handle a simple question, she doubted Rhaenyra would enjoy him. “If you could-”

“My lady.” Her heart fluttered at the sight of Gwyane Hightower, his hair bouncing as he walked toward her. “I’ve been waiting. We agreed to meet in the gardens.”

“I am sorry.” She smiled, genuinely smiled. “I was simply talking to Lord Frey.” She looked back to the older man, urging him to continue. “You were saying, my lord?”

He gritted his teeth. “It is of no consequence. I shall take my leave.” He bowed. “My lady. Ser Hightower.”

“Lord Frey,” Gwayne replied, waiting until he had rounded the corner. “Always a pleasure.”

Y/N fought the urge to laugh. She walked past the young knight, her heart beating faster as he diligently followed after her. “Do you not have somewhere to be, my lord?”

“As I said, I have been waiting for you.”

She scoffed. “I must say, you are the very picture of a knight. Saving a damsel in distress? How chivalrous.”

He smiled, bowing sarcastically. “Thank you, my lady.”

“I am not a-”

“A lady. You have said.” He grabbed a book from the shelf, pretending to read it before throwing it over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes, walking around him to pick up the book he’d discarded. The maester would have her head if he found it lying there. “I must say, a lady has never been so-” He laughed as she opened her mouth to correct him. “So unmoved by my advances.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint. If you’ll excuse me-”

“What are you doing with the remainder of your day, I wonder.”

“Why?”

“I would like a proper tour of the castle, and my sister has been too busy as of late.” He looked too eager, too eager to spend time with a mere lady in waiting. “Would you care to show me?”

“I would not.”

“Wonderful. I will-” He stopped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, I would not.” She put the last book away, climbing up the ladder. “It is quite cruel, this game you are playing.”

“I am sorry?” He tilted his head.

“I know this is a ploy to gain Rhaenyra’s favor, to win the tourney, and possibly win your father’s approval.” She scoffed, eyes watery at the thought of yet another man using her to gain advantage. “This is by far the cruelest way, I must tell you.”

He laughed, actually laughed at her, which only angered her further, tears falling as a result. He stopped his laughing, reaching out to comfort her, frowning when she stepped back. “Do you really think I am using you for your lady’s hand?”

“I do.” She climbed back down from the ladder, ignoring the way he held it from wavering beneath her. “There is no reason for you to be interested in me.”

He shook his head as if he’d misheard her. “Are you aware you are beautiful?”

Y/N ignored that comment, facing him with pleading eyes. “Please spare me from your taunts. I understand that you may- you may find it amusing-”

Gwayne was confused, extremely, and utterly confused. He had just complimented her, why was she asking him to spare her? “I must make this clear and simple, as you seem to get the wrong impression from me. I am not interested in your lady. I am interested in-”

“Every suitor I have encountered has gone through either myself or Alicent to gain Rhaenyra’s favor. By the gods-” She flailed her arms. “Some even go to me inquiring about your sister!”

He practically growled, her heart leaping from the sound. “Then they are cowards.”

“Yes, well…” She had to leave before her resolve broke. “My lord.”

“Do you let anyone other than yourself speak?”

Y/N gasped, whipping around. “Excuse me?”

“I have been trying to explain myself to you, to tell you that-” He stopped himself. “So far every attempt has been overpowered by you.” He crossed his arms, a smirk gracing his lips. “Now…” His voice was practically a whisper. “May I speak?”

“I-” She swallowed, nodding. She did not trust her voice when he looked at her so… so longingly?

“The outing I suggested earlier, would simply be a tour, nothing more.” He took her hand in his. “Nothing untoward will come of it, I swear to you.”

He looked sincere. So sincere that she began to consider it. “We will need a chaperone. The king would not allow me to go off alone, even with a knight.”

“The king?” Gwayne was intrigued. “Exactly why would the king care?”

“Because I am a ward of the crown. I have been since I was born. My mother was a-” She stopped herself. “She was a close friend of King Jaehaerys, and he took me in. King Viserys has been gracious enough to let me stay.”

“Well, then I shall have to thank him.”

“For?”

“If it had not been for him…” He reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “We would have never met.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling herself out of his hold. “I shall see you tomorrow, my lord.”

He grinned, calling after her. “I look forward to it!”

Gwayne smiled as he watched the woman in front of him. She was glowing in this light and practically skipping through the gardens with joy. It was funny, seeing a woman he had often seen as melancholy at best so energetic. “Do you often find yourself at peace here?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded. “I was told my mother loved the gardens, I suppose I feel she is still with me when I am here.”

“Did you know her?” Gwayne inquired. “Your mother, that is.”

“She died when I was a babe.” She leaned forward, taking in the scent of the roses in front of her. “I have glimpses of her. She had bright eyes, bright hair. Her laugh was the most beautiful melody you could ever hear. At least…” She drifted off, staring at the ground. “From what I can remember.”

“I have the same.” His voice was quiet. “Although, my mother died when I was eight years of age.”

“That’s awful.” She frowned. “Alicent told me she had died, but not how old you’d been. That must have been worse, I suppose. Having known her, and then in a moment, gone.”

He shrugged. “My mother was… less than maternal. She had always been one for court and fashion rather than her children.”

“Ah.”

“Still, it hurt. Me more than Alicent, I suppose. She’d only been four years old.”

She ached to reach out and hold him. “I am sorry.”

“For?”

“Reliving the past.”

“If I remember correctly…” He plucked a nearby daisy, placing it behind her ear ever so delicately. “I found this topic of conversation.”

“Yes well…” She smiled, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. “Still…”

He leaned forward, his breath hitting her nose. “I am sure your mother would be proud.”

To that, Y/N laughed. “She was always the adventurous sort, at least, that is what I’ve gathered from the stories. She was highly admired too, beautiful…” She looked down, picking at the skin around her thumb. “I hope to be half the woman she was.”

“You are.” He whispered, holding her hand. He had noticed, much to his dismay, that she’d adopted the habit of picking at her skin. It hurt him, to see her do that to herself.

His sister did the same.

Her heart stopped, looking up to meet his gaze. He was beautiful. Staring into his eyes, she began to realize how inappropriate of a position they were in.

Where was their chaperone? She took a step back, forgetting the rose bush behind her. Yelping, she jumped forward, falling into his arms.

Gwayne laughed, throwing his head back. “Have I startled you?”

She scoffed, pushing him away. “Not at all. I simply remembered we have much more of the tour to get through.” She darted around him, leading the way out of the garden. “Now, come along.”

“Yes sir,” Gwayne muttered, mockingly saluting.

She looked behind her, a smile gracing her lips. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” His pace quickened until they were side by side. “Simply admiring your hospitality.”

She shoved his arm, rolling her eyes. “Ever the jester.”

The remainder of their day passed quickly, much quicker than Y/N would have liked. By the end, she came to realize that the noble knight was a near-perfect companion. Serious when required, a jester when the moment called for it, he was kind, and a good man.

Their last moments had been silent, soaking in the dull roar around them. Every so often, their hands grazed, neither daring to reach out. The sunset with the perfect blend of orange and pink, the waves crashing against King Landing’s rocky cliffs. It made Y/N smile, the way it brought out the red in Gwayne’s hair. She whispered, the words barely leaving her. “You’re hair is the most perfect shade. Have you noticed?” His cheeks turned red, and she smirked, taking his silence as a no. “If only it were transferable.”

That had made him laugh. “Have you just given me a compliment?”

She laughed. “We are friends, are we not?” The night was coming to an end, her door just a few paces away. “Friends compliment each other.”

His shoulders visibly deflated, but he smiled nonetheless. “Yes. Friends compliment each other.” Silence fell over them again, neither daring to speak until she’d reached for her door. His hand grabbed her wrist, holding her just so.

His voice was raspy, quiet enough the breeze itself could have carried it away. “You are perfection itself.” Her cheeks were bright red, and she grew grateful he could not see her, knowing that she would surely become the subject of his jests if he saw her blush. “As your friend…”

She nodded, smiling to herself as she pushed the door open, his hold releasing her wrist. “Goodnight, my lord.”

“My friends do not call me my lord.”

She turned around, curtsying ever so lightly. “Then goodnight, Gwayne.”

He bowed, kissing the back of her hand. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Are you not terribly tired of reading?”

“If I was tired of it, I would not still be doing it, now would I?”

Gwayne groaned, rolling over on their shared blanket, staring at the sky. “One should not confine themselves to a book when the whole world is sitting in front of them.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, setting the book down in her lap. “I will have you know I am not confining myself.”

“Oh?” He laughed, his eyes closing. “Then what exactly are you doing?” “I was trying to relax.” She murmured. “Something I can never seem to do when you are present.”

“What was that?” His smirk was growing increasingly mischievous, and she knew that he had heard her.

“I will not repeat myself. You heard me.” Grabbing her book out of her lap, she opened its pages once more. “Now hush. This is the best part.”

“Read it to me then.” He closed his eyes, laying beside her. “I would like to hear what is so interesting it has taken you away from me.”

“It was you who suggested the picnic, Gwayne, not I.” She laughed. “They are supposed to be tranquil.”

“Maybe in King’s Landing.” He muttered. “In Oldtown, they are supposed to be fun.”

“Well, I am not from Oldtown, nor are we there, which could imply why I was unaware of your customs. Which could also explain how we have reached this argument.”

His eyebrows raised. “Is this an argument?”

She ignored him, mumbling to herself. “This is fun.”

“Well, it would be.” He teased. “If you read to me.”

“You jest.” She mumbled. “Now let me sit in peace.”

He stood up, walking behind her just to sit down once more. “May I?”

“May you what, exactly?” Her cheeks felt hot, he had this effect on her.

“Alicent once taught me to plait hair, when she was young.” He smiled to himself. “I assume it was a self-serving act, but still.” He leaned forward, his voice causing goosebumps to run up her spine. “At least let me pass the time this way.”

“Fine.” Y/N could never say no to him, no matter how hard she tried. “Do not make me look hideous.”

“That…” He pulled out the pins that held her hair elegantly. “Is not possible.” Her cheeks flushed, ignoring that compliment. “Are you attending the tourney tomorrow?”

Y/N nodded. “I must. Rhaenyra has insisted I attend as her lady-in-waiting.” She laughed. “It is quite odd.”

“How so?”

“She has never required that of me before.”

Gwayne grinned. “Well, I shall enjoy knowing you are watching.”

“Really?” She laughed again. “I thought you would enjoy it more if I had not attended. Then you could recount the story as outlandishly as you pleased.”

“Y/N…” His voice sounded desperate, and her heart skipped. “If you do not wish to attend, I’m sure the Princess will understand.”

“No!” She practically yelped. “I want to.”

He smiled, his blush growing darker. “Then I shall do my very best.” His fingers grazed her neck, a gasp leaving her lips before she could silence herself. Gwayne made no comment of it, simply finishing the braid and standing up, extending his hand.

She glared playfully, standing up of her own accord. She knelt, picking up the blanket and folding it haphazardly.

“Let me.” Gwayne took the blanket and basket from her arms, carrying them back up to the castle. “A lady should never carry such things.”

“A basket and blanket?” She raised an eyebrow. “I am not weak.”

“I know.” He smiled, enjoying the fire in her eyes. “You are decidedly, not weak.”

She nodded, puffing her chest. “If we walk any slower, you shall be late.”

He groaned. “Why must I attend this soiree?”

“Because it is meant for you. For knights participating in the tourney, that is. Rhaenyra will be there, as will her father-”

“And will you?” Gwayne interrupted. “Be in attendance?”

“I shall.” She smiled brightly. “Now come along and follow after me closely.”

He tilted his head. “Where are you taking me, exactly?”

“Maegor’s tunnels.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “They were made as an escape plan. Now the servants use them to move around the castle unseen.” The corridor was dark, the lanterns doing little to illuminate the path.

Gwayne felt a chill run down his spine, and he reached out, grabbing her hand. “Are you quite sure this is safe?”

“I have used them my whole life.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “Trust me.”

He smiled, all fears of imminent doom leaving him as her skin touched his. “Lead the way.”

“You are going to break my hand.” Rhaenyra hissed.

Y/N smiled guiltily, releasing the Princess's hand. “My apologies, Princess.” She straightened the fabric of her dress, sitting tall. “I am simply excited. I love tourneys.”

“You do not. You have not been to a tourney since we were ten years of age.”

“Untrue,” Y/N muttered, looking over the edge of the box for her knight. “I am simply busy.”

“With what?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “Who are you looking for anyhow?”

Alicent sat on the other side of the Princess, leaning forward and wiggling her eyebrows. “I believe she is looking for my brother.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “Has that-” Alicent elbowed the Princess, widening her eyes.

Y/N tilted her head. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Rhaenyra muttered, holding her side. “Nothing.”

A knight approached the royal box, and Y/N grinned, waiting for Rhaenyra to stand first, as was customary. Rhaenyra smirked, looking at Alicent quickly before approaching the ledge. “Ser Hightower.” Alicent and Y/N approached second, arm in arm. Curstying quickly, she smiled at Gwayne brightly. The knight nodded his head. “Your Highness.” He turned to Y/N, his eyes softening. “My lady.”

“Ser Hightower.” Y/N greeted. “This is quite the tourney. I’m impressed.”

He grinned. “May I-” He swallowed. “May I have the honor of wearing your favor?”

Her cheeks grew bright red. “You-” She looked at Rhaenyra. “Do you not-”

He laughed. “I believe it is quite obvious I do not.”

Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. She leaned over, whispering in her cousin’s ear. “This is when you give the man your favor, Y/N.”

“But, I-” She turned back to Gwayne once more. “Are you quite sure?”

He nodded, cheeks slightly flushed. “Yes, my lady.”

She turned around, pulling her arm out of Alicent’s. As she was a bastard, her house colors were unknown, opting to simply decorate the ring with her favorite flowers.

Of course, Rhaneyra and Y/N had known, but to blatantly defy the order of the king… she locked eyes with King Viserys, who was gazing at her curiously. Her eyes darted to the floor, turning back around. “May your luck bring you to victory, Ser Hightower.”

“As long as I have you to think of…” He looked positively giddy. “I shall never lose.”

Y/N was sure her cheeks were bright red. She rolled her eyes, ignoring his compliment.

Her heart twisted, knowing that they could never marry, as who would allow their firstborn son, their heir, to wed a bastard? She pushed his lance playfully, pulling herself out of her thoughts. “Go on, then.”

“You look stunning.” Alicent smiled, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “The very picture of a lady.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “I cannot name a time I have dressed so…” She smiled. “So elegantly.”

“It is a ball,” Rhaenyra interjected. “I will not have my dear friend in something drab.”

Alicent glared, and Rhaenyra stuck her tongue out. “She knows I do not mean that she is drab. I was simply-”

“It is alright, Rhaenyra.” Y/N laughed. “I was not offended in the slightest.”

“Red is most definitely your color.” Alicent grinned, spinning her friend around.

Rhaenyra smirked. “Your knight shall not know what to do with himself.” Alicent gasped, smacking Rhaenyra’s arm. The Princess winced, glaring at her friend. “You cannot keep hitting me whenever you are disappointed.”

Y/N tilted her head. “My knight?”

“It is no matter.” Alicent stopped the Princess from blabbing anymore. “Shall we?”

The ballroom was filled to the brim with nobility from all over the Seven Kingdoms, the Hightowers, the Tullys, even the Starks had come to participate in the tourney and celebrate its results.

Y/N stepped back, watching as her friends entered. The squire stomped his cane, effectively silencing the ballroom. “The Princess of Dragonstone, Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, accompanied by the Lady Alicent Hightower.”

They looked elegant, lighting up the room as they walked. Y/N walked up to the squire, smiling lightly. “No need to introduce me, Orvyn.”

He nodded, smiling kindly. “As you wish, my lady.”

The ballroom had not paid attention as she walked, not that she minded. It was better that way, she convinced herself as she glanced around the room. She smiled, waving at Gwayne, who was already staring back at her, rather intensely. His eyes… she shivered, ripping herself away from his gaze as she curtsied before the King. “Your Majesty.”

Viserys smiled, eyeing her royal red dress with curiosity. “Y/N.”

She rose; she could still feel Gwayne’s eyes fixed on her. Sitting beside Rhaenyra, she took a large gulp of her wine. “Is Gwayne still-”

Rhaenyra nodded, laughing to herself. “He is walking over.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened, her heart pounding. “Why?”

“I assume…” She whispered, Gwayne now mere inches away. “He is going to ask you to dance.”

“He-”

“Your Highness.” The knight bowed. “My lady.”

Y/N avoided eye contact and took another large sip. Rhaenyra smirked. “Ser Gwayne, congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you, Princess.” He smiled. “Would you mind terribly if I stole your lady for a dance?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “Not at all, my lord.” She looked at Y/N, enjoying this situation too much. “Y/N?”

“What?” Y/N whispered.

“He is asking you to dance.” Rhaenyra hissed. “Now get up.”

“I-” Y/N looked at Gwayne for the second time that night, feeling as if she could faint at any moment. “I would be delighted.”

His hand waited for hers, as it had so many times before. He whispered, placing his arm around her waist as they stood on the dance floor, his touch shocking her to her very core. “Is something the matter?”

She shook her head.

“Then why, pray tell…” His voice sounded desperate. “Have you refused to meet my eyes? I have missed your company.”

She raised her gaze, falling for the trap he’d set. “I saw you but two days ago, Gwayne.”

“There you are.” He grinned, pulling her closer as the dance began. “Now tell me, what is the matter?”

“You are leaving soon.”

“I am.” He replied as if this were any normal conversation. And perhaps it was, but Y/N would not say so. No normal conversation made her heart beat as fast as this.

“And I-” She sighed. “I did not want to bother you while you prepared for your journey back.”

“Back?” He tilted his head. “And where am I journeying to?”

“To Oldtown, of course.” His eyebrows scrunched, and Y/N fought the urge to burst into laughter. “I assumed-”

“Well, there’s no good in that, is there?” He whispered. “Assuming is a dangerous business.”

“But why would you stay?” She felt entirely confused. He had won the tourney and now would go home to tend to his duties. “There is no-” His eyes sparkled as she spoke, halting her momentarily. “No reason.”

Gwayne leaned down, his breath hitting her cheeks. “There is one reason. A very compelling one, in truth.”

Her heart stopped. “Is there?”

He nodded, eyes fluttering down to her lips.

Oh.

She was the reason.

Before she could fall for his spell, she pulled back, disrupting the dance. His eyes widened, reaching out to hold her hand. “Y/N?”

She ripped her hand back, staring wide-eyed. “I am not feeling well.”

His tone was gentle, it made her stomach flip. Gods, he had to stop being so- so perfect. “Would you like me to-”

“No!” She yelped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Nobles from around the room curiously gazed at the couple. “No, I shall go alone.”

“Y/N-”

She whipped around, stalking out of the ballroom. It broke her, to walk away from his hold. She knew she could no longer be around him; she was fighting her very soul to leap up and attach her lips to his.

There was only one solution to this problem, this vexing complication - she would have to avoid him entirely. No more traipsing around the halls waiting for him to see her, no more walking by the stables or the training yard.

No, she would have to stay confined to her and Rhaenyra’s rooms.

That was the best course of action, for both her and Gwayne.

Little did she know, Gwayne would not stand for it.

“They say-” Rhaenyra spoke carefully as she addressed her cousin. “That your knight is leaving today.”

“Ah.” Y/N nodded, staring off into the distance.

“Y/N…” The Princess sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Punishing yourself because of your birth… You must stop refusing any sign of affection or love simply on the-”

“Who said it was love?” Y/N scoffed, walking out to the balcony. “Certainly not I.”

“Anyone with eyes can see it. He is mad for you, as you are for him.” Rhaenyra muttered under her breath. “Even if you refuse to admit it.”

“I cannot admit something false, Rhaenyra.” Her lips curled into a twisted sort of smile. “I am content with my life, serving you.”

“All perfectly fine with me,” Rhaenyra reassured. “But you have a chance with Gwayne. Swear to me you will not waste it.”

“I-” She sighed. “I must retrieve your dinner, my lady.” Y/N curtsied before racing out of the room. By the gods, she couldn’t breathe when Rhaenyra lectured her. It was horrible enough that Alicent had begun to look upon her as if she was a kicked puppy, now Rhaenyra had began to do the same.

She pushed open the servant's door, twisting through Maegor’s tunnels with ease. It was odd, she told herself, at the lack of maids in its halls. Normally, she was dodging servants left and right. This felt strange, unnerving in a way.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and her heart lept when a hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into a dark corner. She gasped, flailing her arms around, anything to beat this intruder off her. Gwayne’s familiar voice ripped her from her panicked cries. “It’s me! It’s me.”

She rolled her eyes, pulling her arm out of his grasp. “What possessed you to drag me-”

“You will not talk to me.” He crossed his arms, staring at her intensely. “I am sorry if I scared you.” She turned around, walking back to the hallway. Gwayne followed diligently. “My party is set to leave today.”

Y/N nodded, ignoring the way her heart clenched. “So I’ve heard.”

“I wanted to say goodbye before I left.” His voice wavered. “I will miss-”

“You’ve said goodbye.” She cut him off, whipping around. “Now you may leave.”

He closed the space between them, eyes running wild with confusion. “Why must you be like this? Have I truly upset you?”

“Will you not respect a lady’s wishes?” She took a step back, scoffing. “I thought you were a knight, Lord Hightower.”

“Don’t.”

“I must attend to my lady. Her dinner is past due.” She continued her walk through the tunnels, ignoring his overwhelming presence.

“Damn her dinner.” He hissed, walking a pace behind her as he whispered. “I have been trying, for weeks, to court you, and you’ve denied me every step of the way. Just as soon as I-”

She scoffed. “Court me? Did Lord Tyland put you up to this?”

He shook his head, laughing. “Is it so hard to believe that I am interested in you? That the very thought of you consumes me?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why?”

She could only imagine his expression, his beautiful face creased with shock. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. “I am a bastard, you a lord’s son. By the gods, your father is hand to the King, and I am merely a lady in waiting.” She frowned, eyes watering. “It is not proper-”

“Then damn propriety!” He yelled, grabbing her wrist and halting her in her tracks. Her back was pressed against his chest. “I- I am mad for you, you must see that.”

Her shoulders shook, tears falling down her face. “Gwayne, it is for the best.”

“No!” He twirled her around, his hand gently caressing her cheek. “You- you make me think, and feel, and act as none have. Your laughter- it brightens my day. Your wit makes me proud. I am-” He sighed, smiling brightly at the mere sight of her. “How?”

She tilted her head. “How?”

“How can I show you?” Her back collided with the wall, her breath leaving her, her heart thumping at their proximity. “How can I make you believe?”

“Gwayne…”

“Damn it to hell…” He leaned down, colliding his lips to hers. She gasped, eyes fluttering shut as she instantly pulled him closer. “I am not deterred by your status, nor do I care. I will have you, regardless of what the court thinks is proper.” His forehead leaned against hers, his hand resting at the bottom of her neck.

“We cannot-” Tears continued to fall down her face. “Gwayne it cannot happen-”

“Do you want it to?” He remained steadfast. “Is this what you truly feel, or merely what the lords and ladies of Kings Landing shall say?”

“Gwayne, your father will never approve.”

“By the gods woman…” He laughed. “Do you love me?”

“Love?” She choked on a sob. Her body felt as if it could burst into flames at any moment. He was standing close, closer than what was deemed appropriate. “Do I-”

“I do.” He whispered, nudging her nose with his, lips barely touching. “I love you.”

“Gwayne, just listen to me.” She was fighting every bone in her body not to kiss him senselessly. “I am not good enough for you. There are hundreds of ladies-”

“You are, you are good enough. Perhaps too good. Besides…” He whispered. “I want you. Only you.” His eyes were intense, his thumb caressing her collarbone. By the gods, he was trying to make her burst into flames. “Only you.” His lips collided against hers, her eyes fluttering shut once more.

Her hands found their way to his chest, slowly pushing him away. “We cannot.”

“Oh?” He looked around the hallway. “I do not see anyone.”

“You know what I meant, Gwayne Hightower.”

“Would you like to stop?”

“No!” Her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

His eyebrows rose, laughing to himself. “So eager.” He nudged his nose against hers. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“Why have you stopped?” Gwayne’s voice was but a murmur. “I did not know you were listening.” She smiled. “You appeared to be sleeping.”

“Merely basking in your presence, my love.” His eyes fluttered open. “I must say, you look radiant in this light.”

She laughed. “As opposed to?”

“You know that I find you impossibly perfect.” His eyes shut again. “How long has it been since you began this book?”

“Hard to say. Possibly half an hour?” She squinted suspiciously. “Why?”

“No reason.” He smirked, finding comfort in her lap once more.

“Well, there must be.” Her laughter filled his heart, his soul. “You never ask for the time.”

“May I not ask the beautiful woman, whom I love, what the time is? I simply want to know how long I have been lying in the garden.” His eyes peeked open once more, her eyebrows raising in amusement. “If you must know, I have an appointment at half past three.”

“An appointment?” She shut her book, running her hand through his hair. “Whatever for?”

“It is a secret.”

“Really?” She pulled her hand away from his hair, laughing as he sat up, obviously disappointed by the sudden lack of touch.

“Really.” He stood, extending his hand. She smiled, placing hers in his gladly. “It is with the King.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, smiling as they walked. “Has something happened?”

“Yes.”

Her heart dropped. “Is it serious?”

He nodded. “Deadly.”

She groaned. “Now you must tell me.”

He sighed, stopping by the fountain. “Fine, fine. But you must not tell.”

She nodded, interlocking their pinkies. “I swear.”

He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “I am asking the King for your hand.”

Her eyebrows crinkled. “My hand?”

“In marriage, my love.” She stood there speechless. He laughed, kissing the back of her hand gently. “I cannot be late.”

He had been halfway down the trail when she’d been brought back to life.

“Gwayne!”

He turned around, laughing at the sight before him. Y/N was racing toward him, skirts in hand and book discarded, grinning wildly. “Gwayne, you come back here this instant!”

He shook his head, running away. “This is highly unladylike, I must say!” She glared, almost tripping over a tree root, his laughter cascading through the garden. “Almost makes me rethink my question!”

taglist: @beebeechaos @i-padfootblack-things

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #fluff #hotd fluff #literature #🪩! fics

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

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Hey dude, I'm just a lil bro looking for a big bro to take care of me in all sorts of ways but all I'm stuck with is my lousy nerd of a roommate. Could you help me out?

FML: Fraternize

My roommate was… chill all things considered. I don’t know, he was just the random guy that I got stuck with when all my bros decided to move into the house and I needed someone to take the lease with. Scruffy, for sure. A bit out of shape. He said he used to play soccer in high school. Cute, but that was about it. Nowadays he was just getting his degree in English. Just a guy. But I didn’t want just another guy.

I tried to be friends with the guy, but he always just blew me and my boys off. He would just say he was too busy studying or playing some video game to come out to the gym with us or hang at the frat. I finally decided I was fed up. I needed my roommate to be more than a rando in my house. I needed a bro. And the fraternity had some resources to make that happen.

They usually keep this kinda stuff for pledges who start stepping out of line, but my buddy slipped me the files that they show to help guys get in line. I don’t remember if I ever saw them myself… what ever. It was a series of videos that promised to turn any guy into a bro in no time flat. So, one night, I put the tapes on when my roommate was home:

“Hey man, I’ve gotta watch these for class, mind if I slip them on?”

“No problem, I’ll just hang out in my bedroom.”

“Actually, it may be something you would like. You should stay. Here, you chill here and I’ll listen while I cook. I’ll make enough to split.”

I turned the first tape on and went to cook up some chicken and rice. In the other room, I heard the video beginning. It wasn’t long before I started hearing my roommate responding to the commands:

You are loyal to your bros.

“I am loyal to my bros.”

When you are around them you feel relaxed.

“When I am around them I feel relaxed”

The gym feels like your second home.

“The gym feels like my second home.”

The frat is life. You are made to be loyal to the frat.

“I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

They kept pushing him in the background while I finished cooking some food. When I walked back into the room, static filled the screen as my roommate stared into space, drool dripping from his mouth. I turned of the TV and he seemed to come to his senses.

“Hey, sup bro? Got the fuel?”

Already he was much better, “Yeah man, chicken and rice.”

“Hell yeah, gotta get a good workout in before getting my homework done.”

We ate quickly and started getting ready for the gym.

“Hey, bro, you think they are still taking new pledges? I’ve been meaning to apply to your frat!”

I was shocked at how quick the progress had been, “Yeah man. I’ll hook you up with my peeps tomorrow.”

“Sweet, let me finish getting ready and we can go.”

Dang those videos were quick. Even the way he carried himself was so different. This is the bro I needed.

The week went on and we kept working out. I hooked my roommate up with the pledge master and he quickly started falling in with the bros. We worked out, partied, did almost everything together now. I gave the rest of the tapes back to my guy who gave them to me. He said he needed them for a few guys who had gotten a little hands-y with some girls at the last party. I was fine to get them back, I didn’t think there would be any more issues with my roommate.

The year flew by until it was time for spring break. I had opted to be my roommate’s big and done all the usual hazing and shit with him. Had to keep him on his A game, I wasn’t going to go east on him. The spring break frat trip was a rite of passage for the incoming pledges. As much as I wanted to go, I had plans to visit California with my partner. We were having a great time, chilling at the beach, shopping through souvenir stores, and hiking parks. But I made sure to get updates about how my roommate was enjoying his week. It was from one of these progress reports that I got word from the pledge master:

Hey, bro. Just letting you know. Your little bro was making some girls uncomfortable at the bar. Can’t have that causing issues for the frat.

Shit man. I’m sorry. Lemme talk to him.

Nah dude, it’s good. We have a protocol for these kinds things. Just letting you know so you aren’t surprised. We’ll make sure he won’t bother any girls again.

Thanks dude. Lemme know if you need anything.

Nah bruh, relax. Enjoy your vacay.

Well as long as they have shit handled. I went back to my vacation and forgot about the whole situation. I would give him crap for it when I got back. The rest of our trip was great. I didn’t hear anything more from my bros so I assumed it all went according to plan. I was eager to get back to my roommate and prep him for full brotherhood when I got back. It wasn’t till I walked into the apartment I knew something was awry:

“Sup, bro, welcome back.”

A deep voice echoed from the balcony. He stepped inside and was greeted by a stranger. His arms were as thick as a football, his legs as thick as tree trunks. The smell of sweat, sex, and stale beer followed him into the room. He had a fresh tattoo on his arm with the number 86 boldly displayed. The stranger walked with swagger up to me, like he owned the place. As he approached, his musk only grew more intense. It wasn’t until I noticed the glasses it all clicked into place:

“Bro… is that you?!?”

“Bruh, who else would it be?”

My roommate stood proudly in front of me. He had been going to the gym steadily but no amount of protein powder could explain the progress he had made in a week. He was also easily 3 inches taller. And the smell. I don’t know how to describe it but he smelled… virile. Like just being around him was starting to get me excited. He certainly had never been like this before.

“Looking good, right? Like the new tat? Year of our chapter’s founding, 1986. After all, I am made to be loyal to the frat.”

That line made it all click together. The tapes. They said they would handle the situation, I didn’t know they would use the tapes.

”Speaking of which, dude. I can’t believe you flaked on the frat and went on a trip with your partner. You’ve got to be loyal to your bros.”

His scent, his words, my mind was swimming in a way it hadn’t in a long time. He stepped towards me, grabbing my head. I was pulled into his pit. I tried to pull back but a hand on the back of my head held me firmly in place. I felt so aroused and so scared as I was forced to huff the scent of pure frat bro. I was… fading. I couldn’t… resist… my… my… bruhhhhh.

“I think that you should sit through the next set with me bro.”

My mind was blank as he told me to sit down on the couch. Of course, I would do anything for my frat bro. He put on a video and sat behind me.

“They said we could watch this one together.”

The video whirled to life as my roommate held me in place in his lap. A flash of color and a brief intro played. It explained that it was the last in a series of videos for brothers who were trouble makers in the frat. This last one was the most extreme. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I had betrayed my brothers and the chapter. I wasn’t sure what I did but I knew it must be bad. My behavior had to change.

You will conform to the standard set by the frat, whatever it takes. You will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood.

“I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood,” we both repeated, in unison.

Good. Since you have proven you can’t be trusted with making good decisions, your brothers have decided to make those for you. You will become the ultimate frat bro.

“I will become the ultimate frat bro.”

Let’s start on the outside. A brother works out daily, at least. Strong muscles make for a strong foundation.

As I repeated the words, they became my reality. I had certainly never been a scrawny guy before, but this was something else. My muscles convulsed all at once, then seemed to shred and burst. My muscles ached as pecs, biceps, abs all were pulled out of my body. I sweat under the effort as legs bloated and toned, bloated and toned. My back stretched out and shoulders mounded on muscle.

Good bro. Now, a brother should be cocky, with a cock to match. All the other fraternities should know how superior we are.

‘Shiiit, no other frat could even come close. We threw the best parties, had the hottest girls and… fuck the hottest guys. With a bod like this, just about no body could resist.’ As those thoughts echoed in my head, there was a sharp pain in my balls as they started to swell. My cock snaked down my shorts, throbbing with newfound power and size. A moan escaped my mouth as my cock swelled thick as a beer can. Anyone would beg for a cock like this.

A frat bro with a cock like that just needs to fuck. Your libido keeps your mind so full that you hardly have time to pass your business classes.

My swollen balls began to churn as my cock came to life. As my mind was thrust into a deep sexual haze, any aspirations I had on my pre-law track were pushed out, draining right to my balls and slowly leaking out my cock. At the same time, I felt my roommate begin to shift behind me. I felt his cock press against the small of my back, throbbing as it was thrust into overdrive. He began slowly humping against my back, and I leaned back against that massive cock. I wanted to help my bro however I could. He wrapped his arms around me and slowly started jacking me off. My mind was in pure bliss as I was kicked into overdrive. His arms felt so warm and strong, and he was pushing all my buttons till I was thrusting into his hands.

The frat is a part of you. You live, breath, and sweat the frat. Everyone who meets you will know exactly what you’re about and submit to you, an alpha bro. You put the reek in Greek.

My mind processed for a second until the smell hit me from behind and I understood. My hormones shifted as sweat poured out. It was hard work being a fraternity brother, and everyone would know that. I worked overtime as the smell of straight frat filled my nostrils. The apartment changed in response, filled with leftover beers, used tank tops, and soaked underwear. Anyone who entered would fall into an immediate haze, the smell of bros clouding their mind. My mind was… so… slow. Just… needed… FUCK.

You will keep it simple, keep it stupid.

“I will keep it simple, keep it stupid.”

My head felt like it was filled with fluff. No thoughts, just instinct.

You will listen to your pledge master, follow all he says.

“I will listen to my pledge master, follow all he says.”

It was so much easier to just trust my bros. Whatever they said went.

You will live for and serve your bros, live for and serve the frat.

“I will live for and serve my bros and the frat.”

I would do anything for my bros. Gotta keep ‘em happy.

The frat is life.

“The frat is life.”

My roommate’s cock was still rock hard behind me. His grip was edging me as moaned for release. I could dedicate my life to men like him.

Thank you for your cooperation. There will be no further issues. Now cum.

And I did. Ropes shot across the floor as all the changes were set in stone. I was just another frat dude, struggling through Business classes and fucking through the night.

And with that the video ended. It took a sec for me to regain my senses. I slowly refocused my eyes and… fuck bruh my head is pounding. Musta partied too hard last night. Shit, I was drooling all over myself, lol. I mean, I’m hot but not that hot. And fuck, I made a mess. Bro, what happened? It’s already late, I’ve got to get ready to go out tonight.

I was going to throw on a polo and some shorts when my roommate put a hand on my shoulder. This man must’ve got a double dose of whatever I got. Bro, he was on another fucking level. He pulled me in tight, cupped my ass in his hands, held my chin, and slid his tongue in my mouth. All at once, my world shifted as the fraternity’s motto rang in my head, I will be entirely dedicated to the brotherhood. An aching in my balls told me that I wasn’t going to make it out tonight. I had my frat bro… no, my big bro right here. And he will take care of his little bro. He pulled down his sweatpants and a thick rod popped out from the waistband. He gently guided me to his cock, the true source of his musk. Our scents mingled as my thoughts were consumed by sex. The salty taste of pre coated my tongue as the tip slid down the back of my throat. My mind faded as the smell of the frat filled my nostrils. I was lost in bliss as my bro started pumping, pumping down my throat. Gone was the nerdy roommate I had:

There was nothing left but frat bro.

#straight to gay #bro #male transformation #fml #transformation #musk #frat bro #hypnosis

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kitnjon · 2 months ago

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Do you have any modern au fic recommendations where Jon and Sansa meet again after breaking up? Preferably nothing that includes infertility (those were the only ones I could find)

Yes!!! Some fics set after their breakup/divorce:

halcyon by @wandering-scavenger

“Is that a lightsaber?” Margaery asked Robb, attention fully on him as she reached out to touch the hilt strapped to his waist. If Theon’s hopes of hooking up with her hadn’t already flown out the window, it certainly did now. Robb cleared his throat, careful to maintain eye contact instead of staring at her breasts like the rest of the guys that walked past them to stop and stare. “Erm. Yeah. I borrowed it from my brother, Bran.” he managed to say, removing it from his belt to let Sansa’s friend hold it herself. The heiress weighed it in her hand and twisted it around like a baton before finally switching it on; the saber made its distinctive hum as it extended, glowing bright blue under the club’s red lights. “It’s bigger than I expected.” she remarked, tilting her head innocently. Jon choked on his drink then, his laughing eyes meeting Sansa’s own in a moment of shared understanding. She couldn’t count how many times they had shared that look with one another before she ruined things. Before he stopped being hers.

2. red lights mean you're leaving by @cellsshapedlikestars

"Did you need something?” he asks when she doesn't speak, and it feels like a slap in the face, though she knows it shouldn't. She showed up at his door with no warning, after five years of silence. He has every reason to be skeptical. “Your help, actually,”

3. You tend the ash, and I’ll tend the pine by @eruherdiriel

“Are we really never gonna talk about it?” Arya snaps. “We’re all gonna pretend everything is normal and happy when Sansa just got divorced?” “Statistically, it is normal,” Bran says. “The divorce rate is something like—” “It’s not normal! Not for this family, and not for Sansa. True love, forever and always, that’s Sansa.” “Jon isn’t the person she married,” Catelyn chides. “Not anymore.” — Sansa and Jon get divorced, but fully untangling their lives is impossible.

4. snow angels by @kingsansa

He finds, as the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as his heart completely fucking nosedives, that her voice is lower than he remembers, but unmistakable all of the same. Sansa Stark stands in the hallway of his shitty, hole-in-the-wall, egregiously outdated bar; unmistakable.

5. in good faith by @kingsansa

Her hand is a dancer on his back: light, graceful, and bold. “Mr. Targaryen.” She’s always been soft spoken, just a tiny hairbreadth away from shy, words inflected with a polite sort of girlish tentativeness. It isn’t, anymore. Jon doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to see what else has changed about her. “Miss Stark.” It feels wrong for them to refer to each other so formally. He doesn’t know why. They’re little more than strangers now if they had ever been anything else.

6. frozen pines by @cellsshapedlikestars

It hits Jon, then - the sharp smell of ozone. A scent that years ago, he’d become all too familiar with. The aftermath of a lightning strike, the burning of wires. Electricity heavy in the air. The hair on his arms still stands on end. The scar on his hand feels tight. His heart is still pounding. It’s just a storm coming, he tells himself. He’s in White Harbor, not Eastwatch. It’s just a storm. or, the Exclusion Zone spreads for the first time in almost fifty years, with Sansa trapped inside. Jon will do whatever it takes to get her out.

7. Beans series by @justadram

Jon and Sansa never seem to be on the same page about their relationship.

8. Hammerfall by @kittykatknits

Jon and Sansa are busy with their lives in Winterfell and White Harbor, unaware of the danger that would soon be upon them. Then, one day, Jon's friend Sam issues a terrible warning, leading him and his best friend, Robb to begin quietly making plans. As the day of Hammerfall grows closer, they are left with one problem, Sansa refuses to come home. With time running out, Jon goes to rescue Sansa before it is too late. In the horror that follows, Jon and Sansa realize that surviving Hammerfall was the easy part. It's the day after when the real work begins.

9. and now i see daylight by @theshipshipper

Sansa Stark is among the most notable celebrities in Westerosi mainstream cinema. When an ex-boyfriend smears her reputation with lies and deceit, she finds herself back in Winterfell and in the arms of her former lover, Jon Snow.

10. baby, it's you by @kit-kat21

“Sansa, please,” Jon had pled with her, grasping her hands. “I’ll tell Robb. I promise you.”

Sansa had shaken her head, pulling her hands from his and cursing the tears that had insisted on building up in her eyes despite her best efforts. “You won’t.” She said it in a whisper, but her words were strong. “I know that now.”

***

Sansa has only been in love one time during her life, but that's in the past and now, she's trying to start over - getting over a relationship that left her broken on the inside and out while trying to give her young son the best life possible. She doesn't have time to dwell on Jon Snow and pine after him. She's been over him for years now. Completely over him.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #my asks #anonymous

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imagine-lcorp · 3 months ago

Text

Having Arachnid Powers and Dating Lena Luthor Would Include...

Request

@sandwichitodemilanesa could you please write what would include dating lena, being a kind of spider woman? probably have gotten your power because of Lena's dad or brother experiments to make a superhuman but now you're trying to be a super friend and save the world . thanks you so much <3

A/N: Hello y'all, sorry for being MIA, honestly adulthood is kinda sucking my soul, but as I've said before I'm still around. This time doing this little piece that was such fun honestly, also I love sandiwichitos de milanesa so I just couldn't ignore it. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Lena Luthor x Superhero Fem!R/Arachnid Powers/Word Count: 1,388

-------------------------------------------------------

Your story starting the first time Lena ever saw you, you were on the news, stopping a bank robbery.

You were using nothing but a black hoodie, grey pants, a ski mask, and a pair of worn out shoes, and had disappeared before Supergirl could arrive.

The cameras spotted you swinging your way out through the building of National City, using what at first she imagined were hook-shots.

Like the rest of the city, she started seeing you more often on the news with growing curiosity as you helped all citizens.

The news outlets trying to come up with names for you; "The Human Spider", "The Web Slinger", "The Wall Crawler", "Arachnid Woman".

Your first close encounter with Lena was during a supervillian attack on L-Corp. The top floors were crumbling while Supergirl was fighting and you appeared, saving all the people from the falling debris, including her.

You carried her in your arms as you used your webs to pull you down to the ground, keeping her safe but leaving before she could say anything.

She and the whole DEO searching for you after that, wanting to know who you were and where you came from.

Lena investigating you but coming to dead ends, trying to understand you and your powers from what she sees in the news and DEO reports.

Losing hope after many months only for you to swing to her office balcony one night as she looked down the city.

"I believe you and your friends have been looking for me."

"Mostly me, but yes."

"What for?"

"I wanted to thank you, for saving my life."

Distrusting Lena initially due to personal reasons and avoiding further contact but slowly getting used to her as you came to her aid several more times.

"We should stop meeting in life threatening situations, Miss Luthor."

"We certainly should, and I still don't know your name."

"I guess you can call me (Y/N), for now."

Warming up to her and even visiting her a few times at her office. Always reaching her floor by crawling on the side of her building or swinging with your webs to avoid being spotted.

You always work this late, Miss Luthor?

I could ask the same.

You know what they say, crime never sleeps.

Lena noticing more and more of how your powers work, even making you a suit to help you out, leaving it on her balcony with a little note after leaving early from work one day.

Smiling at the gesture and the news making noise about your new look the next day, giving you new superhero names and such.

Going to her office more often and starting to enjoy your small conversations with her and the balcony kind of becoming your meeting place.

Finally building enough trust to tell her who you were and explain how you got your powers.

Telling her you had been very sick, almost too far gone a few years back, when her brother offered you some sort of experimental treatment for your illness. You accepted and Lex brought you to Luthorcorp.

Little did you know, her brother had been running illegal and dangerous human experiments in there.

You had woken up in a cryosleep chamber years later in a secret facility, as you had been the only survivor of his experiments and the only one who seemed to assimilate your new given powers correctly.

"I had nothing and nowhere to go but I didn't want to use my powers to take advantage of people."

Lena offering you a place to stay and helping you go back on track with your life.

Supergirl and Alex also offering you a place in the DEO but refusing as places like that bring you bad memories but offering your help back in case they need it.

Having a bit of trouble adapting your new life with the superhero gig going on but Lena helping you as best as she can with everything you need.

"What if I say I need a million dollars?"

Lena discovering your funny dorky side.

Your relationship with Lena growing over time as she helps you settle as the newest heroine of National City.

Lena helping you design your supersuit and inventing new devices for you.

"I think I need to come up with a superhero name. People are starting to call me 'The Tarantula' and 'Black Widow'."

"Mmh, maybe you would like something more classic?"

"Like what?"

"How about… 'Arachne'?"

Her choosing your new name and going along with it.

Visiting her regularly when the city seems calmer and conversing for hours in her balcony.

Developing a soft spot for her and finally inviting her to move with you through the city.

"You know I have a driver and a car, right?"

"Swinging is faster, you can avoid a lot of traffic."

Lena actually enjoying the rides with you, although only the short ones.

Lena introducing you to the Superfriends.

"So, spider powers, uh? What's that exactly? Extra eyes? Extra legs? Can you stick to any surface?"

"No extra limbs as far as I'm aware…and I suppose I can stick to anything, uh, so far?"

"Cool. And the web, does it come from-?"

"Alex, stop."

"I'm just asking. What? As if you aren't curious too."

Lena helping you train and taking the chance to analyze and help you with your own powers.

She realizing she worries about you the more you get involved in fights to protect National City, particularly when Kara isn't in town.

She being the one to patch you up at your place when you don't want to stay at the DEO.

"You should see the other guy. The other guy, in this instance, being a killer croc."

Lena visiting your place and spending more time with you outside her office and the DEO.

Putting more attention to her and her safety when a fight or battle breaks lose.

Realizing after many of those you like her more than you think and going to her balcony one night to confess your feelings.

Lena admitting the same and being happy about it as you ask her to go on a date with you.

Spending your first date with Lena watching the sunset from the highest place of the city after a rooftop picnic.

Lena making sure to leave L-Corp early to spend more time with you.

Helping each other when there are criminals on the loose and being very protective of Lena if there's any after her.

Upside down kisses.

Taking her to dates by swinging around the city and her offering her limousine from time to time as a way to spoil you.

Making it official and the Superfriends being really supportive and happy for you.

Being awkward and nerdy around each other.

Very interesting moments in bed.

Grabbing food or coffee for her any chance you can so you can visit her at her office.

Dates on her office balcony also becoming a regular thing.

Sticking upside down out of her window and knocking at it at the end of her office hours to take her home.

Enjoying swinging around the city just to keep her clinging to you.

"You better hold on tight, spider-monkey."

"Is that a Twilight reference? I shouldn't have let Kara convince us to watch those."

Lots of game nights with the Superfriends and always teaming up with Lena.

Lena being your unofficial handler and she always being on your side whatever happens on your fights and missions.

You always supporting Lena and her ideas, but knowing when to call her out when things feel out of hand.

She doing the same with you, particularly when you feel responsible for everyone.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), sometimes the hardest thing about this is you can't always save everybody."

Hugs so tight and long they feel like home.

Leaving Lena huge messages around different spaces of the city written with your web. Mostly hearts with her initial in the middle.

Being really close and intimate on your alone moments.

Always coming to aid the Superfriends when they need you or teaming up with Alex and the DEO.

Lena spoiling you with new gadgets and even making you a new suit with nano-tech.

"Like Kara's, but way cooler."

"Oh yes, but don't let her hear you say that."

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor x reader #lena x reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor imagines #lena x you #fem reader #fem!reader #female reader #one shot #request #dating would include #dating lena luthor #lena luthor x fem reader

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afyrian · 3 months ago

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Hii!!!! I love ur writing and little stories so much i was wondering if you could write a long cute story where kuroo wants to surprise you with a dinner date at home (makes u get all dressed up and hes cooking like hibachi and doing all the cute things w the food for u to watch + COMPLIMENTS TO THE CHEF 💕) i thought that ur writing would be so fitting for this short but longish story!!!

Thank you so much if you end up writing this!!!🫶🫶🫶

hibachi surprise kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 900 | synopsis: kuroo isn’t the best at surprises, but he pulls it off regardless

"how much longer do you think it'll be?" you shout into your bedroom door, pressing your ear against the wood as you listen for his hopefully positive answer.

the sound of crackling oil on a hot pan just barely passing through the wood. a light mix of music dances in the background and almost drowns out any chance for kuroo to hear your question. however, you can hear him set something down, yelling back to you, "just one more minute, i promise!"

stepping back from your bedroom door, you look towards your mirror, noticing your dress that reaches to the floor. you hadn't bought it that long ago for a wedding, kuroo taking this opportunity to convince you to wear it again. the dark green color cascades from the short sleeves down to your ankles, your white socks contrasting. the overhead light shimmers off of it, appearing beautifully under the artificial light.

the only thing turning your attention is the sound of the doorknob creaking. turning around, you spot kuroo standing in the door, a chef's hat and apron on that you have never seen. a mischievous smile graces his face as his hand reaches for your elbow. "welcome to kuroo's hibachi, bar and grill," hooking his arm through yours, he keeps his eyes on you.

"oh, i didn't know we could even get a reservation here," you reach your free hand up to your heart, taking in a mostly pretend dreamy breath, knowing he could always send your heart racing.

walking through the living room, you make your way to the kitchen. inside he has ingredients filling the kitchen’s many surfaces. from the small hibachi grill in the middle of a serving cart you bought on a whim, to the many side ingredients resting on the dining table. even a couple bottles of wine grace a small wine rack. guiding you to the table, he pulls out your seat.

“may i interest you in a table side dinner show?” kuroo raises his eyebrows, unfurling a napkin and resting it on your thighs.

looking up at him, you fold your hands together on the tablecloth, giving him a short smile. “i would love to see a show, especially from my favorite cook,” you narrow your eyes, watching as he wheels the hibachi grill over to you.

the wood inside burns slowly, a light red color flickering inside. holding a few pieces of meat over the grill grate, letting the heat within bring it to the required temperature. grabbing a few extra ingredients for your plate, you look up at your cook, “so, chef tetsuro, when did you start working here?”

“just a year ago, although i wanted to for a few months beforehand, told all my friends,” kuroo flips one of the pieces of beef over, grabbing a couple peppers and setting them down on the opposite end, “now, would you like stir fried rice on the stove as a side? i’ve learned from the very best.”

you knew that he had been running by onigiri miya more often, claiming that kenma ‘fell in love’ with the place. you had never believed him, but with each passing hint and surprise, you came to expect some sort of surprise. “of course i would, chef. may i just say that you are dashingly handsome, tetsuro?” you rest your chin against your knuckle, elbow resting on the edge of the table.

“taking compliments to the chef a little seriously, aren’t we? but i wouldn’t want to deny someone of such beauty from sending a few my way,” kuroo walks into the kitchen, messing with a wok that is already cooking up what you could only expect to be the fried rice

watching him, you notice the way his sleeves are rolled up above his elbows. the way his eyes glance back at you because he knows you’ve always been enamored with him and his sense of humor. how he somehow always brings a smile to your face, and despite his terrible ability to keep anything a secret, he makes up for it with a grand sense of mental adventure.

watching as he turns back towards the table with the wok, you wait patiently for him to pour some onto your plate and one that sits across from you. returning to the hibachi, he flips the meat again, the brown coloring nearly to the perfect tone. kuroo looks back down at you in your seat, your dress that he believes you look gorgeous in, “i love you.”

“i love you too, i hope you know that this is the best surprise anyone has ever created for me,” you take a bit of food up, nearly stuffing it into your mouth, savoring the umami flavor.

“well maybe you could even plan this sort of thing for my birthday,” kuroo keeps his eyes on yours, holding a sarcastic smile as he thinks of all the times you nearly burnt down the kitchen.

rolling your eyes, you finish chewing. holding out your hand to grab his, feeling the callouses on his fingers from the volleyball pick up games and the warmth of his fingers, you give him a soft smile. “i could definitely try, but for now, i’d like to thank you with something a little more personal,” guiding his head down with your free hand, you kiss his lips softly, letting him taste the fruit of his labor.

a/n: sorry this took forever!! but i finally got some inspo + it’s kuroo’s birthday! and thank you for the kind words <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy

#☆ fics #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfic #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou

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see-arcane · 4 months ago

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I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now. [...] I daresay it will be difficult to begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours; but I must be resolute, and to-morrow I shall keep dark over to-night's doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.

Jonathan, no, don't give into the guys' peer pressure noooo

It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I am to-day; after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier. He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of those other strong men.

[...] Well, some day Jonathan will tell me all; and lest it should ever be that he should think for a moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him, with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to read.

Mina, no, you have to communicate now, in the present, you're you, you can un-acquiesce, you can break the curse, just talk to Jonathan now, noooooo

GOD this is masterfully infuriating work, Bramward Stokerbroker. Here we have on paper just how much this new status quo--the 'proper' status quo--grates against both of them. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth with the effort to keep smiling and nodding through this unanimous* decision. They know it is For Mina's Sake that they are doing this. Sure, they both hate every second of it and it breaks a loving rhythm they've shared for years together, BUT THEY KNOW BETTER NOW :)))

(Lucy is screaming in the afterlife. Renfield has his head in his hands.)

But all that aside, a thing I'm hooked on this read-around is the fact that, hey. We are reading this. Spoiler, but the entirety of Dracula is actually compiled together by Mina after the story closes. These are all written documents we're reading that the entire group has laid eyes on already. With everyone (bar Art and Quincey for some reason, thanks Mr. 3 Lines Allowed and Mr. Laconic :/, Jack is just talking and waiting for Mina to transcribe now, augh) on duty in some way to record the progress of things so that they can be read later as reference...I have to wonder now.

How honest are these pages the Harkers are putting down now versus what they wrote before joining Van Helsing's Scooby gang? Neither one is writing in shorthand. It's all plain English.

I had a class once where one of the assignments was to keep a daily journal. One page filled out every single day, about anything. Anyone want to guess how many personal secrets or honest feelings I put in those pages for the guy grading my class to read? If you said anything higher than 0 you're wrong.

The Harkers have an audience to worry about right now. An audience of Prof. Et Cetera, Dr. Asylum Director (whose asylum they're currently living in! the kind of place where Jonathan could've ended up and innumerable women have been imprisoned for being women the Wrong Way! whee!), Incredibly Wealthy and Empowered Lord, and Mr. Likewise Rich 'We Should Do Guns About It' American. Who all seem to like them, fresh-from-the-lower class, industrious and Dracula-confronting sorts that they are. Fast friends, all of them.

(Jonathan is still only Harker to them. Simultaneously the Man Who Survived Castle Dracula and the gofer guy doing the footwork and the paperwork/property hunt while Van Helsing hits the library and the others...well, I'm sure they're doing something. Other than re-reading the first half of Dracula.)

(...Which was compiled and transcribed by Mina. Who faced down Dracula in her jammies. Unarmed. At night. For Lucy. But she can't handle your scary stories about the houses full of dirt boxes, let alone join you on the hunt she was explicitly prepared and eager to help with. Can't risk it, little lady, off to bed now.)

This is where they are now that they've ~joined forces~ with Van Helsing and the Suitor Squad. After all they've done, all they're still relied on to do, the Harkers are with allies who have had their acquaintance for less than three days. And now, to appease those allies and their opinions and to keep everything placid with these nice, outnumbering, socially and monetarily endowed parties, they do what they've always done when faced with the fact of their being perpetually on the low rung of the ladder.

The Harkers accommodate. Including in their own diaries, as these too are now deemed forfeit important to the Cause, should the gang need to comb back through it all for clues.

That's why the Harkers are the only ones writing it down--because they already were. They're the kids in the group project who can be trusted to do the work. So just let them keep doing it. Keep an accurate record now, kids! You do such a good job of it, we'd only be getting in the way, ha ha. Remember that we can and will read everything you put down in the future.

Hence: All of what we read today. And will read in the dates to come.

The Harkers are writing under a (friendly) gun right now. They can purge some feelings, but not all of them. And not completely. And not in any way that certain doctors and upper class people of power they barely know might misconstrue as ungrateful or mad in any sense. The Harkers are good people. The Harkers are helpful. The Harkers are team players even if that means no longer being a team themselves. They chafe a little at this, but it's all so new to them! It's alright. God's will and Van Helsing's be done. They know better now.

With all this in mind, it makes much more sense why Jonathan chooses to use shorthand for a Very Particular Entry we see coming up. An entry that Mina alone could read and decide to enter in the distant future, after the storm had passed.

And why, in light of all that happens, he cannot trust himself to put more than a vignette's worth of lines down as time goes on. Not if he wants to keep himself from laying out some actual honesty for everyone to read. Mina's entries will be weightier things, while she still has the capacity to write--carefully. Always carefully.

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 2 years ago

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Imagine helping Benn get away to see a 'friend'

Benn: *trying to slip off the ship during dinner for the third night in a row*

Shanks: *notices he's gone almost immediately* Where's Beck?

Lucky Roux: *counting the money Benn bribed him with to keep quiet* I dunno

Shanks: *Runs out on deck to find Benn trying to sneak over the side of the bot* Where we going?

Benn: we aren't going anywhere, I'm going to port by myself.

Shanks: You're leaving the crew! *Starts to tear up*

The crew: *piles out when they hear Shanks' caterwauling* You're leaving! Without even saying goodbye!

Benn: I'm just leaving for the night, not forever...*realizes no one is listening to him* oh my gods, FINE! Fine, I'm not going anywhere.

Crew: *cheers as they herd Benn back into the mess hall*

An hour later

Benn: *finally manages to claw his way out of the impromptu game night to take a breather out on deck*

You: *watches him lean on the railing, trying to light night cigarette* Need a light?

Benn: *jumps in surprise and drops his lighter into the bay* You scared the shit outta me!

You: *hands him your lighter and leans against the railing*, so why were you trying to sneak off?

Benn: what's it to you?

You: maybe I could help if you have a good reason.

Benn: I wanted to go see a friend I always hook up with when we make port here. She knows I'm a pirate, but not what crew I'm apart of.

You: and you don't want us to meet her? Are you shamed of us?

Benn: *no hesitation* very...Nah, nah, it's just she's a sweet gal and rather timid.

You: and you think she'll be scared off when she finds out you're the emotional support idiot to one of the four emperors?

Benn: yes...Wait, I'm no one's emotional support idiot.

You: In order to stop Shanks from pouting you had to let him curl up in your lap.

Benn: so?

You: You looked like you were burping him, like a baby, when he's a whole ass grown man.

Benn: *purses his lips because he knows you're right, so he elects not to respond*

You: Anyway, you want help sneaking out?

Benn: No offense rookie, but I don't think you can help me. They're a group of seasoned pirates, and you.... You've only been in this life for what? Three years?

You: You're forgetting that they're also just a bunch of dudes who are children at heart.

Benn: what are you getting at?

You: What I'm saying is sneaking out will cost you.

Benn: how much?

You: Take me shopping tomorrow and we'll find out.

The next night

Benn: There's no way this is gonna work.

You: Boys! Benn bought you some stuff! *Presents them with a 10,000 + piece Lego set of the Red Force (I'm making Legos cannon for a plot device), a dial set of Uta's newest album, and twenty barrels of booze*

The Crew: *move like a wave, taking up the gifts*

Shanks: What brought this on?

Benn: Just thought we could use a new activity for tonight, you've all been working so hard lately and all.

Thirty minutes later

The crew: *absorbed in sorting Lego pieces and reading the instruction manual*

Benn: *also absorbed*

You: *elbows him* aren't you trying to get laid?

Benn: but Legos.

You: You really gonna pick Legos over pussy?

Benn: but what if they finish it without me?

You: I'll make it have an accident, so they have to start all over. Now get out of here.

Benn: I can't believe that your plan worked.

You: yeah yeah, get outta here before they notice you're gone

Benn: You're the best *kisses your forehead and flings himself off the side of the ship*

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

List of Up-and-coming works

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #benn beckman #benn beckman x reader #red hair pirates #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #red haired pirates #lucky roux #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #7/28/23 #no beta we die like men

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kitchenisking · 4 months ago

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September Fic Rec

History in these Streets by orphan_account - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 3,988, sterek)

Its Derek's birthday and now that Stiles doesn't have Malia, he misses Derek even more than before. Fortunately Braeden is back and gives him a way to contact Derek. In doing so however, old emotions resurface and grow as the two talk on the phone almost everyday. Derek says he probably won't come back though, and that hurts Stiles more than anything.

Or Stiles misses Derek so they talk on the phone but will Derek come home for him?

(We both failed each other in a way) by hellodickspeight - (Rating: T, Words: 742, sterek)

"Why are you laughing ?" he asks through his teeth.

"Are you actually hearing yourself ? Me, cheating on you ? That's like reverse day. If someone did the cheating, it would be you--""

In which Derek thinks Stiles is cheating on him.

Say You Love Me by sunnydalewerewolf - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,540, sterek)

“Say it,” Stiles repeats, kissing him on the lips again.

“If I say it too much it might lose its meaning,” Derek jokes.

“If you never say it at all it will definitely lose its meaning.”

Derek sighs. “Why don’t you say it?”

“I asked you first.”

AKA: Stiles and Derek have sex and say I love you a bunch of times.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 17,389, sterek)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly.

The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection.

“So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’

In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

No Stones in Heaven by DothTheRaven - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 9,652, sterek)

Derek knows the moment he meets eleven year-old Stiles that he’s found his mate. Of course he doesn’t tell the boy this, because he knows that would be creepy and would probably get him arrested. So he bides his time, and befriends the boy and falls in love and waits for the day when Stiles can be a part of his life, forever.

And really, in the end, it’s all Derek’s fault.

Stiles will become a more permanent part of Derek’s life, just not in the capacity he’s been hoping for. Not in the capacity he needs.

It’s because Derek wanted his privacy. It’s because Derek lied to his family. It’s because he wasn’t paying close enough attention.

It’s about happiness and sacrifices and loving your family and doing what’s right, even when it feels like the worst decision of your life.

The Same Old Blood Rush (With A New Touch) by rainsoakedshoes - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 29,564, sterek)

“Friends with benefits,” Derek stated. “I just happen to be in a position to provide a few more benefits than your usual hook ups.”

***

Derek was an Alpha with a pack and a multi-billion dollar company to take care of. Stiles was a college kid with assignments and student debt to worry about. Neither of them were looking a serious relationship. A one night stand turned into an easy no-strings-attached arrangement. Although nothing is ever as easy or as simple as it first seems.

Cause I Built a Home (For You, For Me) by noneedforhystereks - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 59,719, sterek)

Mechanic!Derek and Daddy!Stiles

Derek Hale is a mechanic in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills, where he has lived all of his life. He spends his day in a simple routine: wake up, fix cars, go home, sleep. It's what he's good at, and it keeps things simple and uncomplicated. Derek doesn't let people in and remains emotionally distant from everyone except his sister, Laura, and her daughter. This all changes when Boyd tows in an old blue Jeep that needs a lot of work and Derek meets the owner of said Jeep.

Because once Derek meets Stiles and his kids, he can't stop himself from caring. And he doesn't want to stop.

my wings a hurricane by kellifer_fic - (Rating: T, Words: 20,322, sterek)

Stiles had been like any other kid growing up in the era of dragons. He'd watched the cartoons, the news stories, had the lunch box. When his screening at Beacon Hills High had come up negative, he'd been disappointed but unsurprised. His positive results were returned three years too late for it to be in any way convenient or cool.

Or, the one where they ride dragons.

Becoming Yours by dbeaux - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 46,688, sterek)

As a dom and owner of Stockholm Syndrome, Stiles takes pride in providing a safe place for people to scene. After a bad breakup, he's not looking for a sub, isn't sure he wants a full time sub again.

College student and curious sub Derek needs a full time dom but hasn't found anyone willing to take him on so he spends as much time at Stockholm Syndrome as he can, pairing up with various doms willing to take him on for an evening.

When their worlds collide, can they find what they need in each other?

Beacon Hell by alikatastic - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,693, sterek)

It had been easier than he thought to talk himself into the field to save Derek's furry ass. The raid was over, and, hell, he couldn’t believe it went as well as it did. Stiles had lost his job, but they hadn’t sent him to some supernatural jail, so he would take his wins where he could. Except, Stiles wasn’t ready to go home. He’d just gotten away; he was free.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

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say-al0e · 2 years ago

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Home Run

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your friend for years, a constant in an ever-evolving life. You’ve always harbored a small crush on him. All it takes is one night to change everything. | Ft. “Are we on a date right now?” requested by @xlostinobsessionsx and “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” “You’re getting shy on me now? Really?,” and “Kiss me. Like you mean it.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Baseball, mentions of anxiety, mentions of deployment, mention of parent death (Goose is mentioned but it’s blink and you miss it), mentions of family issues. I think that’s it but let me know if you see anything else!

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!Reader (call sign Angel)

Word Count: 9k (......sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Bradley Bradshaw sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs opposite your desk, coffee in either hand as he spared you an expectant glance. Though he shouldn’t have looked so comfortable, at home amongst the stark white of the medical office, he’d become a near permanent fixture since returning to Top Gun.

Years had passed, several of which with only sporadic contact shared, but Bradley had barreled back into your life as if it had only been a matter of days. With the aviators he wore so often hooked into the collar of his undershirt and cheeks tinted pink from the California sun, you could almost believe it - convince yourself that you were the same twenty-somethings you’d once been - as you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Good morning, Bradley. I’m doing fine, how are you? Gee, the weather sure is nice, though I heard it might rain,” you drawled, tone decidedly unimpressed as you glanced away from your chart to fix him with the blandest look you could muster. The lack of greeting was something he found himself guilty of often - it was nothing for him to drop into a conversation without preamble, leaving you scrambling to catch up - and you had a habit of calling him on it. However, when you were met with little more than raised brows, you allowed yourself a quiet laugh. “Manners, Bradshaw. What, were you raised in a barn?”

“I was raised in Virginia,” he reminded you, shrugging as he did so. “And spent four years in a fraternity. So, do with that what you will.” It took a great deal of effort to conceal your laughter, despite your amusement being his ultimate goal, as he swallowed his own with a sip of coffee. “Anyway,” he redirected, look pointed, “Saturday. Plans?”

With a sigh, you exchanged the pen in your hand for the coffee he slid across the desk - only slightly awed he still remembered your order - and provided Bradley with your full attention. It was clear he was a man on a mission, unbothered by the limited time to waste until training, and wouldn’t leave until he had an answer. So, you settled into your chair.

“Nope. I’m free.” It was clear that he had something in mind, an adventure of some sort he deemed you worthy of joining, but weeks had passed since you last spent quality time together. It wasn’t uncommon but you wanted to tease him, make him spell it out, so you hummed thoughtfully. “Nat’s sister is in town, Bob’s back home on leave, Mickey’s binging Star Trek in chronological order - which I’ve already done -, and Jake’s, well, Jake. So, I figured I’d just go to the beach or something. Why?”

Bradley frowned, an unexpected twinge of something akin to hurt clouding his otherwise bright eyes, as he lifted his own coffee. “I’m not on that list,” he pointed out, brows furrowing as he fixed you with a look you’d been on the receiving end of far too many times. “Why?”

The reaction was a little more serious than you were expecting and it was your turn to frown. One glance at Bradley told you that his inquiry, while uttered as teasingly as he could muster so early in the morning, was genuine. A brief flash of hurt crossed his face, darkened his eyes for a split second, before he hid his frown behind a sip of coffee.

A small pang of guilt needled at your skin. Though you’d meant it to be teasing, a joke, you never thought Bradley would take it as anything else.

“I just figured you’d be with Mav again,” you explained, only a little guilty. It was accompanied by an uncertain shrug as you stirred your coffee, though you knew Bradley could tell how bad you felt. “You’ve been with him the last few weekends and I didn’t want to interrupt the bonding.” When Bradley made a face, brows furrowing as he attempted to recount exactly how much time he’d been spending with Maverick - and when you last spent time together - you laughed quietly. “I think it’s nice, Roo,” you insisted, shooting him what you hoped to be a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along. And now that we’re stationed together again, we can hang out whenever. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s very thoughtful and I appreciate it,” he declared, slipping his foot under the gap in your desk to nudge yours, “but call me out when I get distant. You’re important to me.”

Though your entire body grew warm at the weight of his declaration - the sincerity with which he spoke, the earnest look in his eyes, the soft gravel of his voice - you swallowed the butterflies threatening to escape and shook your head.

Bradley Bradshaw was one of your closest friends and had been a part of your life for much of your adulthood. You’d seen him at his best - and at his worst - and knew what it meant to love him. He had a tendency to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake, unintentionally as he’d always been charismatic yet emotionally unavailable, and you’d spent the last ten years determined not to be one.

Instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the feelings you’d realized last time you were stationed together, the feelings you’d spent years questioning and rationalizing and compartmentalizing; instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the warmth, then the chill of realization that he couldn’t mean that in the way you so desperately hoped, you shook your head.

“There’s a difference between being distant and making up for lost time, Roo.”

Bradley waved a hand, dismissing the idea even as his gaze dropped to the cup in his hands for a moment. “Anyway,” he redirected, lifting his gaze once more after a moment of silence. “There’s this new place downtown. It’s a bar but it’s got an arcade, go-karts, mini-golf; all kinds of shit.” He paused, for dramatic effect, you were sure - he’d been spending too much time with Fanboy, you decided, though you managed to keep from rolling your eyes. “There’s also a batting cage.”

The foundation of your friendship with Bradley was built on a handful of shared interests and experiences. You’d both had difficult upbringings, marred by tragedy, and both went to a traditional university rather than the Naval Academy. And, in the pursuit of your degrees, both spent years as student athletes. So, if the grin threatening to lift the corners of his mouth was anything to go by, Bradley knew he had you with the mention of the batting cage.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Fritz took his girlfriend there last weekend. She said it was nice.” Even before her confirmation, you’d seen it online and placed it on a list of ‘to-visit’ spots. There was no question that Bradley would be the perfect companion to enjoy all the bar had to offer but you continued to play coy. “Apparently, they’re working with that brewery, that one with the nice taproom we went to a few months ago.”

For a brief moment, silence settled over the corner of the medical office you called yours. Bradley waited, just until you returned your gaze to his, before raising a brow at you. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” His amusement was obvious, laughter badly hidden behind his coffee cup as he awaited your confirmation, but he wasted no time giving in to you. “Do you want to go with me, check it out?”

“It’s only fair, since you’ve been avoiding me.” The unamused look Bradley shot you nearly made you break, laughter bubbling in your through - regardless of the pang of guilt you felt earlier, you knew he wouldn’t take offense - but you bit your tongue and nodded. “Yeah, alright. S’long as you don’t pout when I embarrass you at the batting cage.”

A scoff left his lips as he stood from his seat, mission accomplished and ready to finally begin his day. “We were both pitchers, Angel,” he reminded you, rolling his eyes as he gathered his coffee and waited for you to do the same. “Neither of us can bat for shit.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, Bradshaw.” You followed his lead, gathering the items necessary for you to begin your rounds, as you offered him a saccharine smile. “I was a cleanup hitter.”

The word ‘bullshit,’ disguised with a purposefully awful cough escaped Bradley’s lips. When you rolled your eyes, amused at his disbelief, he laughed. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. I swear I’ve told you this before, but look up my stats, frat boy,” you implored him, not bothering to hide your laughter as you rounded the desk and headed for the door with him close behind. “You were day drinking and I was in a batting cage. We were not the same.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken by the sounds of the medical staff beginning their morning shift, as you ambled down the hall with Bradley close by. Finally, after a beat, he hummed thoughtfully.

“Guess we’ll see on Saturday, then.” He brushed past you to hold the door, body close enough for the scent of his cologne to overpower the antiseptic and cloud your thoughts, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as he glanced down at you. Still, you swallowed the butterflies beginning to swarm in your stomach as he proposed, “Fewest hits buys dinner?”

“I’m an expensive date, Bradshaw.” The taunt was nowhere near as strong as you intended, nowhere near as sharp, but if Bradley noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply shrugged as you both paused just shy of the exit.

“So am I, Angel.”

Then, for just a moment, Bradley studied you. Those warm brown eyes raked over your skin, rapidly heating from the weight of his attention, as that amused grin never faltered. His eyes, however, softened considerably as you blinked at him. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, some witty quip that would make you laugh, but before he could speak, the door opened and a handful of nurses streamed into the hallway.

The group, who you knew well and worked with daily, all bid you both a good morning - though you could see from their not-so-discreet stares that you’d be answering questions about your relationship, or lack thereof, with Bradley later on - and the moment was broken.

Bradley spared a glance at his watch, seemed to realize the time, and reached for the door. “I’ll see you Saturday.” And with that, he stepped outside, off in the direction of the hangar, leaving you to shake your head.

Spending time with Bradley was something you’d always adored, regardless of what it meant and where you ended up - whether it was at the Hard Deck, surrounded by the group of pilots you’d been accepted into without question, or out on the beach, alone as you watched the waves roll in. Though you had a tendency to tease, to give him a hard time, you were glad to accept any invitation to make up for lost time.

And while plans made at the beginning of the week always seemed so far away, especially plans made with Bradley, Saturday seemed to roll around far quicker than you expected.

Between new students - some losing the battle against the California sun, others losing the battle against a bottle of tequila - and yearly appointments all seeming to fall within the same few day span, you barely had time to breathe, let alone think about your weekend plans. Bradley was also kept busy, pulled in one direction or another as he prepared for yet another special mission, and your paths only crossed briefly throughout the week.

Though communication was limited - only a handful of words shared in passing, along with a text or two to confirm plans hadn’t changed - Bradley still arrived at your place at six on the dot.

Bradley made it halfway up the sidewalk, ready to knock at your door and greet you with a grin - some witty quip on his lips about how nice you cleanup - before you stepped out onto the small stoop with a bright grin of your own.

“Ya know, I was kind of expecting you to be fashionably late, Roo.”

While he’d never been late for work - Bradley understood the importance of time management, valued his job and wanted to make a positive impression on his superiors - he had a habit of making a grand entrance elsewhere. Most nights, he sauntered into the Hard Deck fifteen minutes after everyone else, dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans that always hugged his thighs just right. He nearly always showed up to Sunday brunch with a hangover, twenty minutes after the agreed upon time, and already nursing a hangover.

But the thing about Bradley’s habitual lateness; he’d never been late for you.

If you made plans, agreed to spend quality time together without the rest of the Daggers, he made it a point to show up. Hungover, exhausted, burnt out from a long week - it never seemed to matter. Bradley had never left you hanging and you’d long since stopped wondering when that day would come. Instead, you thanked your lucky stars that Bradley Bradshaw deemed you worthy of his time and attention and grinned at him as you approached the Bronco.

Bradley caught the teasing lilt to your voice immediately, saw the glittering amusement in your eyes, and laughed himself as he shook his head. “I figured I got lucky enough getting you to hang out with me. Didn’t want to push it by being late.”

“Very thoughtful.” In true Bradley fashion, he opened the Bronco door for you, aviators slipping down the bridge of his nose as he took in the outfit - casual, but still nicer than anything you’d wear to the Hard Deck - you wore. You ignored the warmth creeping up your chest at the weight of his gaze, swallowed it in hopes of drowning the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach, as you shook your head. “And chivalrous, too! It’s a wonder you’re so painfully single, Bradshaw.”

The roll of his eyes was playful, unbothered by the teasing jab at his relationship status - something that had become a running joke among the Daggers by this point, anyway - as he rounded the Bronco to join you. “It’s the emotional unavailability,” he defended, shrugging as he turned on the vehicle. “Or something like that.”

“At least you’re self-aware. That counts for something, I think.”

Occasionally, you wondered if the jabs at Bradley’s lack of a love life - or, rather, lack of a committed love life, lack of a steady love life, as he’d had his fair share of flings over the years, though they’d slowed to a complete stop since his return to Top Gun - ever bothered him.

Jake started it all a few months after the Daggers’ friendship became real, shortly after that first mission ended. He made some stupid joke about Bradley’s lack of commitment after he found himself committed to a pretty bartender and it was true enough. Bradley hadn’t had a steady partner in years, not one that he deemed worthy of introducing to his friends, anyway, and you all took turns playing armchair therapist to rationalize why.

Still, Bradley seemed to take it all in stride.

As he always seemed to, Bradley shook his head and laughed quietly as he pulled away from the curb. Instead of arguing, carrying on with the bit as he sometimes did, the conversation fell into a natural lull as he allowed his usual playlist - comprised of eighties throwbacks and the occasional song from his days as a frat boy - to fill the cab of the Bronco.

While it should’ve been uncomfortable, silence with Bradley never was. Even in the beginning of your friendship, back when you were both bright-eyed and overwhelmed with the seemingly endless possibilities your futures seemed to hold, Bradley was was comfortable. And even back then, when your heart seemed to skip a beat every time he smiled at you - every time you were certain your skin would remain permanently on fire, every time you were certain your giddy laughter would give you away - it was always easy.

No matter how much time seemed to pass, no matter how many miles separated you, Bradley had always been a constant. And it seemed that no matter where in the world you found yourselves, when you reunited, there was an overwhelming feeling of returning home.

When you stopped to think about it, that comfort - that feeling of home, that stability - was what kept you from risking your friendship with Bradley.

Though you’d harbored an ever-growing, seemingly never fading, crush on him since the day you met, pushing for anything more came with a risk of losing him for good. Acting on those feelings, acknowledging them outside the confines of your own thoughts, meant risking everything you’d built.

The friendship you shared survived distance, months spent oceans apart; it survived seemingly endless stretches of time with limited communication; it survived deployments, periods of discomfort, moments of doubt, and everything in between because there was no pressure.

With Bradley, there were never any expectations.

Bradley had always been comfortable because with him, you felt the freedom to just exist. He never expected you to be anything other than yourself, accepted you for the person that you were, and saw the beauty in that. He never judged you for saying the wrong thing or having a bad day, never thought less of you for needing a shoulder to lean on. He never made you feel less than.

There was never a fear of fucking it all up but you knew the moment you crossed that line, the moment you allowed yourself to give in and fall completely in love with Bradley Bradshaw, you were opening yourself up for a heartbreak you’d only had nightmares of.

Before you could spiral further, fall into a pit of despair so deep it would take the rest of the weekend to climb out of, Bradley’s voice cut through the din inside your head. That voice, rasp a balm for your suddenly aching chest, rang in your ears as he declared, “Hate to interrupt your attempt to solve all the world’s problems, but we’re here.”

A cursory glance out the window confirmed his statement and you blinked as you took in the sheer size of it all. “Fritz really undersold this place,” you said, sparing Bradley a quick glance before eying the packed parking lot. “It’s massive.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think it was this.”

A hum of agreement was all that seemed necessary and even that was lost to the ether as Bradley parked and shut off the engine. While you were entranced by all the bar offered, eyes wide as you scanned the patio just to the side, he was quick to round the Bronco and open the door for you. He grinned when you shot him a look, eyes sparkling with a sort of mischief as he awaited your teasing comment about chivalry, but you both remained quiet for a moment as you crossed the parking lot.

The bar itself looked like something plucked from your fondest childhood memories; a clash of past and present with an arcade facade, a mini-golf course, batting cages, and a go-kart track out back, all accompanied by a few bars scattered around, and you were struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia as gravel crunched beneath your feet.

Bradley seemed to be, too, as he gestured to the course with a grin. “I think every mini-golf place I ever went to growing up had one of those bridges.” He pointed to an awkward length bridge, covering the short distance between holes split by a trickle of water meant to represent a river, and you laughed.

“At least they’re useful.” At that moment, a small group climbed single file over the bridge - when they could’ve easily just stepped over - and you hummed. “Well, sort of. All the ones on the Gulf Coast have random alligators.” Bradley’s laughter was cut short as he raised a brow, question of whether you meant real alligators or statues - or maybe both - but you only shrugged.

Though you hadn’t been stationed together in years, you’d kept up with one another. Any time you moved, packed it all up and traded this coast for that one, you shared the details with one another. Bradley had been sent photos from Florida - pictures of alligators and Disney and stormy beaches - while you were sent photos from Virginia and, after the fact, the middle of the ocean.

The only time either of you kept your relocation a secret was his initial return to Fightertown as it came after yours and he’d wanted to surprise you.

That line of conversation and the following contemplative silence didn’t last very long as Bradley spared you a glance. “What were you thinking so hard about on the drive? Thought I saw smoke coming out of your ears.”

Bradley was often direct with you, asked questions you would sometimes prefer not to answer, but there was no chance you intended to share your line of thinking. He would get it, you knew that, but the conversation was unnecessary as you were doing just fine hiding it all. So, you shook your head and offered him your best smile. “Doesn’t matter. Just a long week.” That wasn’t technically a lie, it had been a painfully long week, but he didn’t need to know that all thoughts outside of him ceased to exist the moment you stepped out your front door to see him waiting for you. Instead, you attempted to redirect by gesturing to the batting cages. “We starting or ending there?”

There was a look in his eyes that made you fearful he would continue his line of questioning, one that said he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to think better of pushing. “I was thinking we end there,” he reasoned as he glanced over and offered you a half-smile. “Build the suspense, you know?”

“Or get enough drinks in that neither of us will be up to our usual.” It was playfully accusatory, teasing in a way that felt so natural with Bradley, and you felt a small sense of triumph as he laughed.

“You were in a batting cage, I was day drinking,” he reminded you, snickering as he repeated your quip from earlier in the week. When you cut your eyes at him, his smile seemed to double in size. “A beer or two won’t have any impact at all on my batting average, Angel.”

“I’d like to say that I’m surprised,” you sighed as you stepped through the front door, “but I don’t think I am.”

Bradley rolled his eyes fondly as he followed you inside, close behind to keep from being separated. “C’mon,” he urged, “first round’s on me.”

Knowing Bradley, every round would be on him. He’d insisted since being reunited, declared he was making up for lost time when he dragged you out on nights he knew you’d rather be in bed, but you knew better. Bradley was better with actions than with words - small gestures, such as buying a round or completing an annoying to-do list task - and used them to show that he cared.

This was a conversation you’d had a dozen times before, a fight he never let you win, so you made no effort to argue as you headed for the bar.

The entire building was impressive, decorated to match the overall theme of childhood nostalgia with neon signs and patterned carpet. The walls were lined with old games - Pac-Man, Space Invaders, pinball machines - and it seemed that everywhere you turned, there was something new to discover.

Little conversation was shared at first as both you and Bradley were too busy marveling at the sheer size of the space. It was almost overwhelming, too many choices in one building, but soon, you were wandering through the vastness of it all in search of your next activity.

Much of the night passed in a blur of bright colors and loud noises. The games themselves were fun, easy enough when you had a drink in your hand - though you and Bradley both kept it light with only one drink each, too busy having fun to return to the bar and wait. Bradley’s presence, however, made it all the better.

Bradley kept you close as you weaved through the crowds, one hand at the center of your back - respectful, but still enough to have your breath catching in your throat with every press of his fingers as you felt the warmth of his palm through the material of your top.

While you opted against the go-karts and mini-golf, you’d already formulated a plan to return with the rest of the Daggers in tow. You and Bradley mapped it all out between games of skee ball and Crazy Taxi - you’d begin with go-karts, before the group started drinking, and end with the pair of you showing everyone up in the batting cages. It was perfect, silly and fun, and you found yourself forgetting everything that wasn’t the immense joy you were experiencing.

Hours passed in a haze of giddy laughter and jokes traded at the others’ expense before you finally made your way outside. With his hand still at the center of your back, slipping lower with every step, Bradley guided you to the batting cages with a grin.

“Alright, slugger,” he teased, eyes bright and glittering in the overhead lights as he gestured to the rack of bats. “Lady’s first. Show me how it’s done.”

With a playful shake of your head, you stepped away from Bradley and reached for a helmet and a bat. There was no doubt that he believed you - he believed nearly everything you said, whether he should have or not - but he was once a pitcher, too. It was an experience you shared, one few people you saw daily understood, and you knew this was less about you proving yourself and more about finding something you had in common and celebrating it.

The entire night was a way to spend time together doing something you both loved, something you rarely got to indulge in these days, and you were grateful he’d suggested it. Even as you stepped into the batting cage, weight of Bradley’s gaze heavy against your skin, you felt nothing but the giddy excitement you’d been experiencing since stepping foot into the bar.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve felt nervous. The teasing, the playful jeering as you took a few practice swings, might’ve made you afraid of looking stupid. But this was Bradley. While he could be competitive, it was always playful - with you, anyway. This was fun and you knew he would cheer you on regardless, so you nodded when he asked if you were ready to start.

When the first ball came flying toward you, speed at the max setting, you inhaled deeply before taking a swing. The ball whistled as it soared high, a resounding ‘ping’ echoed through the cages and earned a few glances from passersby, and you felt a sort of relief as it flew into the net before bouncing back toward the return.

Laughter, amused and a little awed, rang out behind you as you caught Bradley shake his head from the corner of your eye. “You weren’t joking.”

“You almost sound surprised, Bradshaw,” you teased, though he didn’t - not in the slightest. “This one’s going to the left, top corner,” you informed him as you shifted your hips and waited for the next ball.

As it flew high and left with another sharp ‘ping,’ Bradley leaned against the barrier and folded his arms over his chest. “Where are we goin’ for dinner?” The question was asked with a smile, bright and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Your choice since I’m clearly going to be paying for it.”

“It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Even as you spoke, words interrupted by a huff of effort as you took a swing, Bradley seemed unconvinced. And, if he’d been as honest as you, he had every reason to be. With a laugh, you offered, “I was thinking about that place by the beach, the one with the cool patio.”

“Sure.” Bradley would’ve allowed you to choose regardless - and wouldn’t have let you pay for him, even if you proved to be an awful batter - because that was the kind of friend he’d always been. The restaurant on the beach was a shared favorite, however, a staple that you visited at least once a month, and you knew you would’ve likely ended up there, anyway. So, you felt little remorse about your choice, even as he continued. “You’re only two balls in but you win,” he relented, laughing as he lifted his soda to take a sip. “Where’s this one headed?”

“Straight up the middle.”

Between pitches, you spared him a glance over your shoulder. You expected him to look bemused, pretending to be put out by your ability, but there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was fond, brighter than you expected, and you almost convinced yourself it was pride that had his shoulders set a little straighter as a passing pair praised your ability.

Even the brief notion that Bradley was proud of you, impressed by your ability in a way few others had been, was enough to warm you from within. Heat flooded your veins, much as it did every time he spared you a wayward compliment, and it took a conscious effort to keep yourself from preening under his scrutiny.

“Why am I not surprised you’re a place hitter?” His question was punctuated with another resounding ‘ping,’ followed by a ball flying into the net, as he shook his head once more. “Starting to think you were grown in a lab, Angel.”

It was clearly teasing, a soft jab accompanied by laughter, but you couldn’t help the bashful shrug as you readied yourself for another ball. His jokes about your perfection had become more frequent, accompanied by soft laughter, and though you knew he’d witnessed your flaws, it still made your skin prickle any time Bradley saw the good in you.

Still, you swallowed the warmth and tightened your grip on the bat. “Told you, batting cages while you were day drinking.” There was a brief pause as you took another swing, this hit a line drive to the left, before you admitted, “Softball and nursing school didn’t leave much time for fun or friends so, batting cage it was.”

“We would’ve been friends,” he declared, certain in a way you wished you could be - though you were grateful to have met him later in life. You knew yourself well enough to know that you likely wouldn’t have been able to handle the schoolgirl crush you’d formed almost immediately after meeting him, not then. But Bradley didn’t give you much time to dwell as he hummed, “We could’ve been day drinking and hitting the batting cages together.”

“I don’t know if I would’ve befriended frat boy Bradley.” Though you offered him a teasing grin, laughed when he rolled his eyes, you knew that you would have. You were half-certain that you would’ve found Bradley in any life and fallen just as hard, no matter the circumstances of your meeting. But you kept that realization to yourself as you teased, “His idea of fun sounds like it could end in an ER visit.”

“Would’ve given a student nurse some real life experience,” he reasoned, smile growing into something brilliant when you laughed. “But at least you admit it sounds like fun.” Bradley tipped his head then, brows furrowing as he watched you take another swing. “Why’d you play, though? Nursing always sounded hard enough without being an athlete, too.”

Over the years, you’d had more conversations with Bradley than you could count. There were very few topics that hadn’t come up as you shared nearly everything - your career, your friends, your hobbies, your interests, your hometowns - but family was one of them. And, in a long line of similarities, your reason for playing softball and his reason for playing baseball was rooted in family.

Bradley once mentioned that baseball was originally deigned something to do, a task that got him out of the house and incorporated him into the community when he and his mother moved to Virginia after Goose’s death. He once shared that it was something his father loved as a child, an alternate life path he could’ve taken, and indulging in it made him feel a little closer to the father he missed. He admitted that it made him feel weightless - long before he experienced true weightlessness in the cockpit of a jet - but he’d never asked you why.

It was just one of those things that went unspoken until it didn’t.

“Family,” you revealed, not bothering to turn even as he made a noise of understanding. “My grandmother played. She got married and had kids really young. Sports weren’t really a thing for women in her time, anyway, but there was a rec league in town. She was amazing; a switch hitter, place hitter, a damn good pitcher. If she’d been born a little later, she could’ve made a life for herself playing. But she wasn’t and she couldn’t. My mom tried to take after her but she never really got the hang of it. I was the only one who did, so, I guess I figured I had to be the one to live the dream for them.”

The weight of your rationale was not lost on Bradley, you knew that, but he was never one to push for more. That was enough, enough vulnerability for a batting cage in the middle of a crowd, so he shifted. “Do you still play?”

Once upon a time, after a handful of drinks and a few stories about the Naval Academy from the Daggers, Bradley shared the things he missed about college. Baseball was one of them as he hadn’t played since graduation. He’d been asked, a handful of times, to join in on the odd pickup game here or there but it wasn’t the same and you knew that. There was little a pickup game could do to recapture the feeling you’d experienced on a field with teammates but Bradley seemed to realize that you’d at least swung a bat since graduating.

“Sometimes,” you confirmed, finally sparing him a sideways glance. Those brown eyes followed your every move, every shift of your hips or flex of your foot, and you felt your skin prickle under his scrutiny. You shrugged, returning your gaze to the machine, and took a deep breath. “I join local leagues when I can, if I hear about them. It was easier when I was working at a hospital with civilian nurses but most of the time, they don’t really want me joining in. I can never promise I’ll be around for a whole season or that I can make it to everything. I get it, though. They want someone who’s going to be there.”

When the machine finally shut off, you turned to face Bradley. There was a look on his face that you couldn’t read - something contemplative, softer than you expected - as he declared, “Their loss. They’d be lucky to have you, Angel.”

Bradley’s sincerity was obvious, almost achingly so, and you felt your heart clench at his declaration. It meant more than you knew it should but before you could dwell, consider exactly how it made you feel, Bradley headed for the controls.

“Wait,” you called out, before he could press the ‘start’ button. “Don’t you want to bat? I feel like I’ve been in here forever.”

“Don’t mind me.” He smiled, this one real and bright, as he gestured to you. You stood, still inside the cage with a bat clutched in one hand, and lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A storm of butterflies filled the pit of your stomach. Your skin heated, your heart thumped just a bit too hard in your chest, and you had to tip your head to hide your face as you shook your head. There was a slight edge to his voice, a deeper rasp that you’d only heard used at the Hard Deck - locked in conversation with pretty girls you watched him take home instead of you - and you were almost convinced you imagined it. However, before you could question it, Bradley laughed.

“Oh, you’re getting shy on me now? Really?” As desperately as you wanted to make some sort of witty quip, return his teasing with some of your own and hope that your voice didn’t shake, you could only attempt to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest as he pressed the button. “I’m having plenty of fun watching you, Angel. Keep going!”

There was a warmth to Bradley’s comment that seeped into your bones, warmed you from within. Bradley complimented you frequently, sought to make you - and other friends, including Natasha - feel proud, but this was different. There was a weight to everything he’d said throughout the course of the night you’d never felt before.

The weight of his statement, the softness with which he spoke, had your voice catching in your throat as you waited for the machine to start. Your heart continued to thunder in your chest, cheeks heating, but you attempted to disregard the feeling of Bradley’s gaze burning into your skin.

When you finally found your voice, heart still beating just a touch too fast even after the first hit, you shook your head. “One more round,” you relented, “and then you’re up, Bradshaw.”

If Bradley heard the waver in your voice, if he noticed the slight heave of your chest as you fought to even your breathing, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he nodded easily. “Of course. We have to end the night with a laugh,” he reasoned, poking fun at his own abilities. “You gonna be my relief hitter when I strike out?”

“It’s a batting cage, Roo.” It was meant to make you laugh, meant to ease the tension you knew he could see in your shoulders, but it worked as you leaned into a swing. “There are no strikeouts.”

Before he could counter, make some joke that would keep you laughing and fully ease you back into the moment, a passerby - who’d definitely had more than your one drink - yelled, “Damn, man. Your girl’s killing it!”

“Yeah, she is.”

Three words, a simple acknowledgement of a drunken compliment, and you nearly missed the next pitch that flew toward you. It likely meant nothing to him - he likely hadn’t even noticed the man call you his girl - but if you weren’t careful, you knew this moment would play on a loop in the back of your mind.

It was intoxicating, the idea that someone else saw you as Bradley’s girl, but you made a herculean effort to stay focused on the task at hand as you took swing after swing. A handful of passersby continued to cheer, drunken words of encouragement rang out with every ball you sent soaring, but Bradley kept quiet as you flew through the remaining pitches on the machine.

There were no witty quips, no jokes, and you were grateful for the relative silence as you allowed the repetitive motion to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Finally, when the machine reached zero and you’d reached a state of semi-normalcy, you turned to watch as he grabbed his own helmet and bat.

Bradley approached with a smile, though it was softer than it had been all night - gentle, almost timid in a way you’d never seen him - and brushed your shoulder with his own as you passed in the entryway. Though it was far from the first time he’d touched you, a jolt of electricity flew through your body at the contact and you struggled to inhale deeply as you offered him what you hoped to be a teasing grin.

“Alright, frat boy,” you hummed, voice quieter than you intended but still playful enough, “show me what you’ve got.”

The quip made Bradley laugh, even as he shook his head at the nickname. “Prepare to be woefully underwhelmed, Angel,” he teased, offering you a grin as he settled into his stance.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

With a nod from Bradley, you pressed the ‘start’ button and watched as the first pitch flew toward him. And, with that very first swing, you knew he’d been telling the truth.

Bradley’s first attempt ended in a foul ball, right off the tip of the bat, and the second fell just a little too close to his hands. His third was a complete miss, though he made a decent effort, and you lifted your hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter.

There was no telling how much of this was an act - playing up his lack of ability to make you laugh, to make you feel better about your own prowess - but you couldn’t help yourself as you winced when he dropped his shoulder and missed a third ball.

“Nevermind. You really are a shitty batter, Bradshaw.”

“Funny, that’s what every coach I’ve ever had said.” When you laughed, shaking your head at his self-deprecating joke, Bradley took another swing. With another miss, he spared you a quick glance over his shoulder. “This is why I was a pitcher,” he acknowledged, glancing at a ball that rolled past his feet. “Next time, we’ll go to a field somewhere and I can redeem myself.”

“No redemption necessary. I believe you’re a good pitcher,” you promised him, laughing as he jolted away from a ball spiraling too close for his comfort. “Pitchers aren’t supposed to be able to hit.”

Bradley made yet another attempt and you nearly clapped as this one connected and flew into the top right corner. With it, Bradley laughed. “That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he declared, smiling as he spared you another glance. “Press stop for me, Angel?”

With a laugh of your own, you pressed the ‘stop’ button and waited a moment for Bradley to exit the batting cage. As he stepped out, returned his helmet and bat, you took a moment to study him.

Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. Though you kept your feelings for him a closely guarded secret, everyone knew you found him attractive. You weren’t the only one who thought so, especially on those nights he wore the jeans that hugged his thighs just right to the Hard Deck - especially on the nights he wore his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned, collar of his undershirt weighed down by aviators and exposing a sliver of sun kissed skin - but you were always struck by just how pretty he was up close.

Though you’d never been much of a fan of the mustache - a commonality on every base you’d ever been stationed at, especially among pilots - it worked for Bradley. It suited him and you were glad he hadn’t been talked out of it yet.

Even on the toughest of days, Bradley always offered you a smile. He made it a point to be honest with you, to tell you when he felt rough or when he’d seen better days, but he always left having shared at least one smile. It was always encouraging, always there when you needed it, and you were grateful that Bradley deemed you worthy of his smile.

And those eyes - warm and beautiful, always so expressive whenever he regarded you - never failed to make you weak in the knees. With every gaze you shared, with every glance exchanged, you found yourself falling deeper into a hole you knew you would never be able to climb free from.

However, as Bradley turned to you, you felt the air escape your lungs as you began to realize that you were alright with never being able to climb free.

As afraid as you were that the comfort you found in Bradley would be lost should you allow yourself to fall completely, you realized that he would never allow that.

Bradley had been a part of your life for years, there for you through the best and worst moments of your life. No matter what happened, he’d proven to be a constant - a home for you to return to in even the most troubling of times. There was never any doubt that he would remain in your life, even if you learned what it was to love and lose Bradley Bradshaw, and you began to accept that.

In a stunning moment of realization, you came to the understanding that should you choose to give this a try, should Bradley want you in the way that you wanted him, he would do everything in his power to be there for you regardless. And should he not want you - though, as you finally gave yourself the space to consider, you wondered if the things you rationalized as friendship actually meant more to him - he would never leave you out in the cold.

Even if everything that could go wrong did go wrong, even if a relationship happened and ended in heartbreak, you were confident that Bradley Bradshaw would remain constant.

After years of stability, years of love and patience, there was little that could push him away.

“Angel?” Bradley’s voice broke through the haze, drew you out of your thoughts and back to reality as you blinked at him. He frowned, concerned, and took a half-step closer as he studied your face. “Are you okay? I lost you for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” With a smile, you gave Bradley a nod - hopefully convincing him that you were, in fact, alright - before gesturing to the mini-golf course. “I think we played everything inside but there’s always mini-golf, if you want to keep playing. But I’m good if you want to call it a night.”

“I think my pride’s taken a severe enough hit,” he teased, expression relaxing slightly as he glanced toward the parking lot. “Let’s get you home. It’s almost past your bedtime, anyway.”

Though you rolled your eyes, you shook your head fondly as Bradley fell into step beside you and began heading slowly toward the Bronco.

The question you’d wanted to ask for a long while - whether Bradley wanted the relationship you did, whether he saw you win the same light - lingered on the tip of your tongue. After years of wondering ‘what-if,’ you finally allowed yourself to ask the question aloud.

“Bradley?” Warm brown eyes met yours, soft and still slightly concerned, as he hummed his acknowledgement. “Is this…” You weighed your words for a moment, considering, before you finally settled on a question. “Are we on a date right now?”

A soft, half-smile lifted the corner of Bradley’s mouth as he reached into his pocket in search of his keys. It was almost bashful, the way he ducked his head, and you swallowed to keep yourself grounded as you waited.

“I wanted it to be,” he admitted, voice quiet as the din of the bar began to fade. “I was going to really ask, make it obvious that’s what I wanted, I just…”

Bradley’s hesitation felt familiar. His shrug, noncommittal and questioning, was the same thing you found yourself doing whenever Natasha questioned why you refused to make a move. There was a tinge of fear in the pink dusting his cheeks, in the set of his shoulders as you approached the Bronco, and you held your breath as he shook his head.

“I like being your friend. I’m happy to be your friend,” he stressed, coming to a stop at the passenger side of the Bronco. In the dim light of the parking lot, Bradley’s eyes glittered as they met yours. “I haven’t spent this long being your friend as some sort of consolation prize, worried you didn’t like me back. This isn’t settling and I don’t see our friendship as less than a relationship,” he assured you, soothing a worry you’d buried deep - one he likely sensed all along. “I just… I always knew it wasn’t the right time, we were both trying to establish ourselves. But when we were apart, I thought about you all the time. I missed you all the time, more than anyone else.”

Knowing that Bradley valued your friendship first, believed it to be important - worth as much as romantic love, not something he simply settled for in place of something he’d rather have - made your chest ache as you reached out to place a hand on his bicep.

“I missed you, too, Bradley.” When his eyes met yours, smile soft and gaze so reverential it nearly stole your breath, you couldn’t help but take a half-step closer.

Bradley remained quiet for a moment, as if considering his words, before he smiled bashfully. “I’ve always thought about this,” he admitted, hand lifting to cup your cheek. His palm seared your skin, warm and heavy and a comfort you’d wished for for years, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued.

“Why now?”

It wasn’t a question you needed an answer to, not at that moment - not under the buzz of a streetlight and in the view of drunken strangers - but it seemed important as you struggled to focus on anything other than the warmth of Bradley’s skin pressed to yours.

“Mav. He got his second chance with Penny,” Bradley reminded you, voice soft. “We never lost touch but this was another chance. I couldn’t let this one pass me by.”

“Kiss me.” Bradley smiled then, clearly pleased by your request, and leaned in. He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a chaste peck, and you nearly laughed at the feeling of his facial hair brushing your skin. His lips, slightly chapped, were warm and you lifted a hand to the back of his neck as you mumbled against his mouth, “Like you mean it, Roo.”

With a half-step, you pressed yourself impossibly closer and released the years of longing you’d suffered into the kiss. Fireworks popped behind your eyelids, blood simmered in your veins as heat engulfed your entire body, and you wondered if every kiss would be this wonderful as Bradley’s free hand fell to your waist. His fingers pressed into your hip, lips working against yours, as everything around you ceased to exist.

Despite the heat of the night, the dimness of the parking lot, you would’ve been content to remain there for the rest of the night. All that mattered was Bradley, his body pressed to yours as years of longing were swept away, but all too soon, a loud cheer broke through the blissful haze.

A group of drunken passersby cheered, whistled and encouraged you both as they wandered through the parking lot to meet an Uber, and you pulled away from Bradley with a laugh. As you tipped your head to hide your smile, mild embarrassment heating your skin, you decided that the moment still couldn’t have been better.

Bradley seemed to agree as he grinned and brushed a thumb across your cheekbone. “I can’t bat to save my life but I think tonight was a home run,” he teased, laughing as you groaned at the pun. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“Please. Before I decide I’ve had enough of the awful jokes and leave you hanging.”

Years had passed in which you suffered through Bradley’s awful jokes with a patient smile and a disbelieving laugh. There was little you wouldn’t do for him, even less he wouldn’t do for you, but you were still left giddy by his rolling eyes. “There’s no getting rid of me now,” he promised, laughing as he started up the Bronco. “We’re in it for the long haul.”

It was a promise, one that you hoped he’d be able to keep, and you felt a surge of hope for the future.

There was no expectation for the rest of the night, no pressure as you made your way back to your place, and you were content with that. Neither of you said much on the drive, simply allowed yourselves to exist together, and for the first time, you had no worries about ‘what-if.’ Instead, there was only the thought of ‘what could be.’

A deeper conversation had to be had, you both knew that, but there would be time for that later. There was an entire future awaiting you both.

And instead of wishing it to arrive so soon, you focused solely on the moment at hand.

As Bradley walked you up the sidewalk, palm warm in your own, you made no effort to wipe the smile from your lips. The giddy feeling in your chest made you feel as if you were walking on air, excited for the possibilities that now seemed endless.

The unknown was always terrifying and there was no guarantee for the future - no guarantee for anything more than the moment at hand. But Bradley Bradshaw had always been a constant. He’d been by your side for years, steady and true and loving. He was home, a light in the dark, and he was right; with him, you’d certainly hit a home run.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: It has been a Shit week. I’m going to go rewatch Top Gun and lay in the dark for a while. Enjoy the friends to lovers fun.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt, @dakotakazansky

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick imagine #top gun one shot #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #v's fics

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imaginecolby · 1 year ago

Text

Friends with Benefits || Part One - The Hook Ups

your relationship with colby was nothing that you ever saw for yourself. you’d always imagined yourself with the perfect partner, getting married, starting a family, living in a beautiful home. never once did you ever imagine that you would’ve found yourself in a “situationship” of sorts, and especially not with someone who you briefly saw a future with.

you’d told colby about your feelings for him, but he was never sure that he saw himself committing to a relationship. he laid out boundaries for what he wanted, promising to not let it become anything more. you begrudgingly agreed to them, no matter how much you wanted something different. you just wanted anything. you just wanted him.

you never wanted to be a side piece, or a one night stand. you especially never wanted to be a “friend with benefits.” yet, that’s exactly where you found yourself. keeping your feelings at bay was hard at first, but you did it. you kept telling yourself over and over that this was something you wanted.

"anything to be with colby in any capacity. regardless of the circumstances." was your motto at this point.

it started out as every once in a while, which then progressed to monthly, then weekly, and was now almost daily. your hookups were more frequent the more stressed out about work (or life in general) either of you were, and coming up on the end of the year, you both had pretty full plates. you were practically living with each other, with the number of nights you spent together. but the sex was great, and neither of you had any complaints.

"are we still on for tonight?" colby text you one afternoon. you were just getting off work, ready for the extended time off you were about to have. the holidays were coming up, and you’d been saving up your PTO to have a decent vacation.

"yeah! im on my way home now, if you wanna come over a little bit earlier." you replied.

"i just might. i had a terrible day today." he text back.

"alright, i’ll see you later."

once you got home, you showered and straightened up your living room and bedroom. colby text you once he arrived at your complex and was making his way upstairs. after you read his text, you went around and lit a few candles in your bedroom. just as you finished, you heard a knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his knuckles rapping against the door. you took a deep breath before moving to answer, concerned that you were as nervous as you were. you never had butterflies before when he’d come over. that can’t be good.

you finally answered the door, colby leaning against the door frame. his eyes met yours and he flashed you a smile, and it took everything in you to not fall to the floor.

"hi." you said softly, inviting him in. he followed your instruction, and you watched as he placed bags on the counter.

"i brought us dinner. i figured we’d work up an appetite in no time." he said with a smirk, moving closer to you. his hands found their normal place on your hips, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. as your lips met, he let out a low moan. “mmm, i’ve missed you.”

"it’s only been two days." you giggled as his lips traced down your neck.

"two days too many." he said with a muffled voice. you leaned your head back, allowing for more space on your neck for colby’s lips to explore. you moaned softly as his lips reached your sweet spot, and he began sucking. you rolled your eyes, knowing he was going to leave a hickey, but you didn’t care. you were off for the next three weeks, and you were ready to let him leave marks all over you. his hands made their way down your back, stopping right in the middle. he pulled away from the kiss, and raised a brow at you.

"no bra? naughty girl." he said, his hands roaming up your shirt and stopping right at your breasts. the tips of his thumbs barely brushed against your nipples, but they sent a shock wave of pleasure up your spine.

"okay, i can’t wait any longer." you said with a sigh. you jumped into colby’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. his hands spread out across your ass, and he gave you a tight squeeze. he held you tight as he made his way to your bedroom, lips not leaving from yours as he moved. he laid you down on the bed and kissed you hard before standing up. you looked up at him with doe eyes, watching fondly as he undressed in front of you. he glanced around briefly, another smirk flashing across his face as he noticed the candles.

"nice touch." he huffed a laugh. before you had a chance to respond, his lips were against yours again.

in the moments that followed, everything was as perfect as it always was. the way your body meshed with colby’s was something more than you could’ve ever dreamed. he treated you as if you were a goddess in his hands, and you treated him the same. you both made sure that every need was met, and every inch of your bodies was taken care of.

colby’s hips began stuttering against you, telling you he was close to finishing. you were almost there yourself, so you began grinding against him.

cursing through gritted teeth, colby’s pace sped up the closer he got. with one final thrust, the two of you groaned in unison, your names leaving each other's lips in harmony. he collapsed on top of you as silence filled the room. you laid there quietly as you caught your breath, colby finally moving to lay next to you. you whined quietly as he pulled out, feeling empty.

colby spent the rest of the night with you, eating dinner, and just hanging out. it had been a long time since the two of you hung out as friends, given your arrangement, but this was a nice change from the norm. colby was someone that you'd always had strong feelings for, platonic and romantic. colby never alluded to having romantic feelings for you, but you would take the platonic ones for as long as you could.

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader #fwb

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 year ago

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Here's a challenge: platonic x reader who hates monkeys with a passion (you could do it with phobia or irrational hatred). With Wukong, Macaque, and Mk.

Pithecophobia

Yandere MK, Sun Wukong, Macaque

(Fun fact 1- prunes are not their own fruit! They’re just dried plums.)

“I’m just saying,” he starts with a scoff, “it’s really silly that you’re expecting me to play along with this. Especially when I don’t get anything out of it.”

MK turns around to face the demon monkey, frowning. He folds his arms and walks backwards to keep eye contact, hoping that his mentor would watch his steps for him.

“Uh, you are getting something out of it, though? Y/N spent all day cooking for us so we could celebrate the new year together! They even made extra in case we wanted to bring someone else! That’s like… super nice of them!”

“Oh, I might get some maybe decent food, is that it? And all I’ve got to do is pretend to be a powerless mortal all the way through a probably mediocre dinner, huh? Just because this weird friend of yours is scared of monkeys?”

Sun Wukong; who had eyeing the sky for early fireworks more than he had been looking out for his student’s safety, finally chimed in. “To be fair, I think that mug of yours would scare anyone away!” A second later, he ducks down to avoid Macaque’s incoming tail, leaving MK to take the brunt of the relatively harmless blow.

MK stumbles backwards and almost into the street, only stopped when his mentor’s tail wraps around his waist and pulls him back onto the sidewalk. “Whoa,” the Great Sage mocks, setting MK safely back down, “someone’s in a bad mood today! Maybe… you’re just mad cause no one except us wanted you over for the new year?”

Macaque snarls and lunges at Wukong, ready to brawl. It’s only when MK swiftly moves to stand between them that the near fight is averted. “Guys, come on! Can’t you get along for just one day?!”

The “NO!” that they shout in perfect unison is just about what he was expecting, but he’s still a little disappointed about it. They both try to move past him to grab at one another, barely impeded by his physical position.

A thunderous bang echoes across the sky, a brilliant bloom of sparkling red painting the blue horizon. Macaque hisses and recoils, his arms quaking as he moves to clap his hands over his ears. At the exact same time, Wukong jumps up in delight, cheering and hollering at the sight. MK takes his chance to separate them, hooking his arm around Macaque’s, pulling the pained monkey demon along much quicker than he was moving before.

“Come on, come on! The food is gonna get cold if you two don’t hurry up! And! Y/N told me that there’s something special just for the two of you! Cause, y’know… when I asked if I could invite you both, they asked me what sort of stuff you liked, and I told ‘em about the whole ‘peaches and plums’ thing…”

Bringing up food seems to have been a decent enough distraction, as both of them choose to start moving along instead of fighting. Your house is already on the horizon. Now he just has to hope that another fight doesn’t break out between the rival demons.

As usual, life dashes his hopes of peace being anything more than a temporary lull.

“Yeah? Like how peaches are just about the best thing ever? And how everyone that isn’t crazy likes ‘em one way or another?”

“About how sweet-toothed meatheads can’t help but shovel them down whole? Those sort of people don’t have the brain to enjoy plums. Peaches are just sweet. Plums have a subtle astringent skin that mixes well with the flesh’s mellow sweetness.”

“Sure thing, old man. Go home and eat your prunes if ya like ‘em so much.”

“They are NOT-“

“Guys! We’re here!” Before they can argue any further, MK releases Macaque’s arm and rushes up to the door of your house. “Hurry up and come inside!”

He takes a moment to consider knocking, then grabs the doorknob and impatiently starts rattling it instead. To his delight, it’s already unlocked. A quick glance over his shoulder shows that both of his companions remain in their transformed state, tails safely tucked into their clothing.

He throws the door open and races inside, leaving the monkeys in the dust.

Just barely remembering to take off his shoes before he tears through the halls of your house without hesitation, he throws them aside near the door in a still-tied heap.

He follows a practiced path straight into the kitchen, finding you just as you remove a plate of pork-stuffed spring rolls from the oven. You set them down on the countertop to cool, then turn to face the very-expected intruder. You might’ve been surprised, if it wasn’t for his excited footsteps echoing through the house.

MK runs into your arms before you can even pull the oven mitts off, wrapping you up in a warm hug. For just a moment, it gives you the same feeling as coming home after a long day, cozy and inviting.

Then, his grip grows tight.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice quiet and low. “Invite me over more often. Or come to Pigsy’s and visit me, at least. Please.”

His grip tightens further.

And then he lets go of you, turning to face his two companions, neither of which you recognize. He waves them into the kitchen and moves to set the table.

Politely, you offer the first one your hand. He’s decked out in shining gold and exuberant red, like a brighter and flashier MK. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m glad you came to celebrate with me. Come and take a seat!”

He snags your hand between both of his own, giving it a firm pump. “It’s great to meet ya, bud! Thanks for having us!” He heads to the table and bounces on his heels, snatching up a seat for himself before anyone else gets the chance.

You smile and turn to MK’s other friend, the one dressed in a billowing black and red shroud that concealed most of his face and body. You offer him your hand as well.

He shrugs and walks right past you, sitting down at the opposite side of the table- probably to keep away from his colorful and loud companion.

MK frowns at his friend’s behavior, but turns back to you with a wide and rather forced smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just… not used to this.” His voice drops to a low whisper as he adds: “And his ears have been hurting all day. I think he’s getting grumpy.”

“I can hear you, kid,” the irritated man says from beneath his shroud. “There’s a reason that I’m called the S-”

“The SUPER SENSITIVE hearing guy, I know! The thing that all of your friends call you,” MK clumsily tries to lie, his ears and cheeks darkening to red with his poor attempt at deceiving you.

But before you can question him on it, his golden-clad friend pipes in with a snide: “He’s certainly sensitive, I’ll give him that.”

Outright chaos is only abated by the sharp click that sounds when you set a porcelain tray on the polished quartz surface of the table.

“MK told me about your favorite fruits, actually! So I stayed up late to make these for all of you,” you cheerily announce to the trio, lifting the delicate lid to reveal three plates of sticky-rice pudding. Each one is delicately drizzled with syrup sugar and studded in tiers with sweet fruits.

Your friend jumps forward, his palms hitting the table as he stares at you with wide-eyes. “Y/N! You made Eight Treasures Rice for us?!”

“Well, it’s more like ‘One Treasure Rice’, haha. It’s really only got the fruit in it, actually. I didn’t wanna put anything you guys didn’t like in there, so I decided to play it safe. I hope that’s not disappointing!”

“Not at all, bud! Not at all!” Several of his aureate accessories glint in the light as the man reaches eagerly for the peach-filled rice pudding.

You pass it to him with a smile, then give MK his own, stuffed full of tangerine slices. With only one left, you push the plum-packed dessert to the shrouded stranger, who seems to slightly brighten up at the sight of it.

Before anyone can say anything, you remove yourself from the table and hurry around the kitchen, gathering plates and utensils for the trio. You put them out quickly, then pile all the dishes you made in the morning onto the table.

“Good kid,” Wukong whispers to Macaque, picking bits of peach from the pudding as you arrange two plates of dumplings on the table. “And good food. Still regret coming, ‘Super Sensitive’?”

“…the kid’s alright. Jury’s still out on the food, though.” He pauses, taking a quick moment to think of something to criticize Wukong for. “And keep your tail under control. I can see the tip flicking back and forth in your pant leg.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

A tray with a whole braised chicken is set between them, and a platter of steamed rice flour cakes after it. Finally, you take your own seat, next to the shrouded man and across from MK.

It strikes you then that you haven’t even learned the names of your guests.

“I’m Y/N, by the way! I’m sorry for not asking your names earlier! What should I call you?”

“The name’s Sun, bud! And that’s Mac, sitting in the edgy robe.”

“I like the robe,” you compliment politely, looking at the concealing garment. “The cloud embroidery is a nice touch.”

“It’s a cloak… and thanks.”

MK jumps forward in excitement and strikes his palms against the table, rattling the bowls and dishes.

“C‘mon! Let’s eat, everyone!

———————————————————————

“I think everything went well, today. You think so too, right?”

You set the knife down, turning to face ‘Sun’. As you cut up the leftovers, he’s sorting them into separate containers for everyone to take home. (And giving himself larger portions when you weren’t looking.)

“Definitely! I think my, uh… friend was pretty impressed. I hope we can do this again, Y/N! I don’t really have anything scheduled this time of year…like, ever.”

Except for watching fireworks from the top of his mountain, far away from company and civilization. Again and again, over and over, thinking only of his long-passed friends and companions.

“…we are going to do it again, right?”

“Oh, um, sure. I don’t see why not. My family doesn’t really come and visit, so I’ll probably have the house empty again next year. So, um… yes! I’d be happy to have you over!

He hums softly, nodding his head to your words.

“Sounds good, bud. I’ll be there. And… I’ll see if I can wrangle Mac into coming, too. Maybe just to see him jump at fireworks again, though.”

“He seemed interesting,” you graciously offer of the cloaked man, in spite of his admittedly poor behavior through dinner. “I enjoyed his stories.”

“Pfft! I could’ve told them better- I was there for most of them!”

“Well, the two of you should come again- MK seemed happy- more than usual, even. Honestly? I think he’s been stressed out lately… I’m glad he could have a day to relax. I really do need to visit him more often.”

“Huh. Guess it must be a little hard living so far from the city, bud. Any reason you’re this far out?”

“Oh, that’s… I inherited this house- and the orchard outside- from my parents, actually! I take a lot of pride in it, really. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if the work is a little lonely.”

“…I think I will come visit, then. And I might sample a few of your fruits, too,” he teases, lightly elbowing your side. “You think you can handle that, bud?”

“…you know what, Sun?” Sun, what he had informed you his name was. It fits him well. He’s bright and exuberant, and never stops smiling. He seems like he’d be a good friend.

“That- that sounds really nice. Come by anytime you’d like.”

Your words sound kind right now. They feel right to say. The Great Sage thinks so too.

And he’s certainly not going to forget about them. Neither will Macaque, listening in from the shadows beside your tangerine trees.

Why would they ever let go of this kindness?

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Macaque #Monkiefam

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