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caffeinewitchcraft · 4 months ago

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AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

#my writing #aita reddit parody #third person #original fiction #supernatural #halloween #aita parody

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bravesaboteur · 10 months ago

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The more I think about it, the more Laios and Falin's different perceptions of their parents are a case of "same parents, different childhood".

Whenever someone asks Laios about his and Falin's family, he comments on how they treated Falin but never comments about how how their childhood affected him - in fact, he kind of glosses over it. It's Falin that everyone is rallying to save, it's Falin that's Marcille's friend, it's Falin that everyone has a positive opinion of - he's just the weirdo brother that gets to share some of her light sometimes. He's the one who's only tolerated when he's useful in a dungeon. Falin's treatment is a large part of the reason that he left, but it's the symptom of a larger issue.

When we see Laios' thoughts of his parents in his nightmares, it's all about the expectations that he's supposed to live up to: the expectation to stop being "childish", the expectation to get married (to who his parents picked) and have children, the expectation to take over from his father as the village chief, the expectation to adapt to something that he isn't able to be in the way that people want him to. And these are all things that he has had to be told in some way: he had to be told that Shuro didn't like him, he had to be told that told that the gold-peelers were taking advantage of him - these aren't thoughts that just appeared on their own, these are all failures that someone has explicitly pointed out to him and they haunt him. Some of the things he considers his biggest failures are his failure to provide for and protect Falin and those have very tangible examples he can point to.

We get a glimpse of what happens when he fails to live up to his father's expectations when Falin is born. He expects a certain reaction from Laios and when he fails to give that reaction he physically puts him down, dismisses him, and underestimates how much he understands.

And that's something that's shown to be a bit of a sore point for him - people thinking that he doesn't understand something because he doesn't express himself like people expect. The few times we see him snap at people are because people think he isn't understanding something because he isn't reacting "normally".

On Falin's side, the expectations seem to be a lot different - she's the younger one, for one, she's a girl, and she was so young when the fallout from her having magic happened. She too had an arranged engagement, but that was broken off when she was sent away to magic school and since then, their parents only seem to be passively involved in her life. She's mostly been freed of the expectations that their parents had for her in her village - she won't be coming back after all. She understands why they sent her away, she wasn't completely oblivious to the villagers treatment of her and it was, arguably, for the best so she is at peace with what their relationship is for now. But she still wants to go to her hometown and see for herself with adult eyes because she has never really had the space to do that.

I don't think their parents are inherently evil people - the truth is probably somewhere between Laios and Falin's version of the story, Laios' side tinged by too much cynicism and Falin's by too much naivete.

It just strikes me that when he tried to provide the "normal" way he failed, but given the space to do something similar to what people expected of him, but in his own way, he succeeded. He isn't perfect but his efforts are ultimately fruitful and he is able to carve out a place for himself, Falin, and others who had been ostracized like them to call home.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #laios touden #falin touden #i have a lot of touden feelings #i'm not letting mama and papa touden off the hook that easy #dunmeshi spoilers

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pedgito · 2 months ago

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↝ ALONE, IN MY MIND (14k words)

Summary: So what if Eddie Munson had a really pretty face, it was just too good not to admire. So what if you liked to draw him in your free time, he definitely didn’t mind. Yet somehow, tutoring him still felt like the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done.

↝ OUR LITTLE SECRET (1.7k words)

Summary: Tardies were becoming a regular occurrence and you couldn’t handle another day of boring detention, but Eddie couldn’t resist the chance to worship you in every way possible. Just be quick, no one had to know.

↝ RENTALS & RECORDS (11k words)

Summary: Eddie can’t hide the fact that he’s sort of obsessed with you, but you can’t deny that you might be secretly obsessed with him too.

↝ FORBIDDEN FRUIT (series — 1, 2, 3, 4)

Summary: You find yourself torn between the idea that even though Eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

↝ DON'T HANG UP (mini-series — 1, 2, 3)

Summary: Eddie’s got a late night bone to pick with you; only one minor sexual inconvenience in the way, but that doesn’t stop you from picking up his call and Eddie doesn’t want to hang up either.

↝ TAKE IT SLOW (3k words)

Summary: It wasn’t your fault your dealer liked to give you special treatment and kiss you in private, those were just the perks of being a very loyal customer, aside from the fact that he was probably falling in love with you.

↝ SCREAM MY NAME (15k words)

Summary: Summer of 96’, fresh off the anniversary of the tragedy that took place one year ago—you and your friend are ready to enjoy your last few days of freedom and fun, but someone has other plans in mind and everyone is fair game.

↝ FAKING IT (12k words)

Summary: Your career was built on luck and fortunate circumstances, but that was bound to run out at some point. Enter Eddie Munson, rockstar extraordinaire, the reason for your life being thrust into chaos—but, fake it til you make it, right?

↝ CAMERA SHY (mini series — 1, 2)

Summary: Eddie’s a popular camboy, along with your best friend Steve. one lucky introduction manages to turn your life upside down, arguably, for the better.

↝ GET YOUR FIX (5k words)

Summary: Adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and Eddie was insatiable when it came to you.

↝ SIMPLE RULES (unfinished series – 1, 2)

Summary: Eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. Sll he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.

OLD MASTERLIST, INCLUDING REQUESTS (1 & 2)

NOTE: I've written like 80+ things for this dude and most of my posts have broken links so this is an attempt at fixing broken links on multiple series that I posted over two years ago, I'm too lazy to go through the process and figured this is easier lmao.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #joseph quinn #eddie munson x f!reader #giving him a spot on my masterlist finally #back to regularly scheduled programming

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queers-gambit · 6 months ago

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Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

title citation: Hamlet

prompt: similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: The Truth Will Out collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 18.3k+

note: SLUTTY ANGST CLUB, COME GET Y'ALL JUICE!

warnings: not edited. heapings of angst, hurt and no comfort, fuck your feelings. tweaked timeline, cursing, Bridgerton influenced, Aemond's both a bestie and an outstanding, fucking asshole - so is this vilified Aemond? eavesdropping trope, nicknamed reader, insecurity, insults, betrayl, abundance of ye ol' misogyny, self destructive tendencies; a single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure. there's men being men, men being gossipy little bitches, and the most random Lord of the Rings quote that kinda breaks the fourth wall?

Bridgerton - available to watch on Netflix 🍒 this fic was written before season three premiered

Jacaerys Velaryon version: coming soon

Tonight was a celebration that echoed across the entire Realm. Lords and Ladies alike with their service maids, House guards, any available singletons flocked to King's Landing for the courting season. They did this annually. Three solid months for eligible singles to make a match and attempt to secure their bond in matrimony.

Ladies wore layers of multicolored fabrics. Lords dressed in embellished tunics. Ladies tied on tight corsets to push their breasts to their necks. Lords shaved their facial hair, appearing "cleaned up". Ladies smelt of exotic perfume and Lords stood in shiny boots. All wore sparkling, gaudy jewelry.

While the Starks of Winterfell and the Umbers of Last Hearth traveled over a month to reach the capital, your family, the Tyrells from Highgarden, had a much more comfortable commute. Greyjoys and Mormonts sailed in from the Iron Islands and Bear Island, Tullys from Riverrun, Royces and Arryns from the Eyrie. Single, available, eligible Hightowers returned under Queen Alicent's sponsorship, Lannisters prowled in from Lannisport, and select few Martells arrived in gorgeous, gloriously golden carriages from Dorne.

Everyone who was anyone descended onto the Red Keep, eager to earn King Viserys' stamp of approval - being that he only granted one couple his presence at their ceremony. It was the highest of honors, a prize to be won, a chance to show off and show out; giving the two bonded families bragging rights until the next season. Plus there's a superstition that all weddings the King attended were prosperous, healthy, and long lasting marriages. There was a buzz in the air, a static of excitement and mystery; tension brewing when the members of court arrived and sized each other up for that first week. You thought they were silly for this energy, akin to strutting peacocks, treating their own like competition, treating bloodlines like currency.

You never realized how many purists there were.

While the other Houses had to travel, you were most lucky to already host residence in the Red Keep. Your uncle, Evin Tyrell, had once been in line to assume lordship over Highgarden, but after losing his son to the War of the Stepstones, Evin turned away from his inherited responsibilities; forcing it onto your father's shoulders. You had several siblings, both younger and older, and eventually got lost in your bustling, busy, arguably large family. Evin had no more children, wife long departed from this life, and was excited by the prospect of being a guardian; insisting you come with him to King's Landing, where he accepted a tutoring position for the King's children and grandchildren.

You were absolutely romanced by the idea of existing among the royal family, telling your father it was your one chance at a decent, higher education - an opportunity to study under the Targaryens being once in a lifetime. Truth be told, you're not entirely sure Lord Tyrell even processed your words, approving with a distracted grunt and a wave; gone by the next morning without even breaking your fast with your family. Evin hooked both your beloved horse and one of your father's young stallions to a wooden cart you shared, using the journey to King's Landing to prepare you for the life you were soon to live.

You had always been a little wild child, so, Evin felt it necessary to remind you of your manners; brushing up on your etiquette, quizzing you on members of the Royal Family, explaining what would be expected of you now that you were a guest to the royals.

For well over a decade, you were the single wildflower blooming through dragon fire, earning the moniker Rose of the Realm; living under Queen Alicent's good grace. She seemed to like you well enough, going as far as to invite you to family events after noticing the bond between you and her openly favorite son, Prince Aemond. Years ago, when you were fresh and new to the Capital City, your uncle brought you to attend Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral on Driftmark at the King's invitation. You already had a friendship with the young royals; keeping Helaena company, trying to sneak Aegon's chalices of wine out of his grip, and when the time came, rushed off over the sandy dunes with your best mate after he told you his plan to lay claim on Lady Laena's dragon, Vhagar.

After the King's heir, Princess Rhaenyra's (rumored) bastard son, Lucerys, slashed Aemond's eye from his socket, you became incredibly close. Impossible close. Like unbelievably close; being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, magnetically pulled towards one another before clicking into tight place. You were his pillar of support, his anchor to reality; and he was your salvation.

You realized you were in love with him when you turned ten-and-six. It was something strange, the two of you studying together in the library and when you looked up from your book to meet his eyes, you just understood. Something in your brain clicked, heart cemented in knowing, guts twisting in sudden realization, words caught in your throat and only letting out an inaudible gasp. Ever since that day, you were acutely aware of anything the Prince did; from the way he would caress the back of your head at each embrace, to his eye darting to look at your lips during conversations. From how he took almost every meal with you, to the way he insisted upon your invitation to family, public, and / or royal events. From the way he absorbed your secrets and opinions, to the way he shared his own - getting back what you put forth, forever mutual.

Being friends - best mates, even - with Aemond was easy. So easy, in fact, that nobody ever batted an eye when they saw the two of you unchaperoned. Your friendship was wholesome, endearing, supportive, enlightening, and pleasurably challenging in the sense that Aemond liked pushing your envelope; testing your boundaries. He set new standards and helped lift you to meet those goals, made you think harder, consider new points of view, expand your humanity.

What more could anyone ask for?

About half way through the current season, your uncle sent for you to join him for afternoon tea in the gardens. "Do you recognize these?" He asked when you arrived at the pavilion he sought shade under, admiring the bushes of florals surrounding the bannister.

"Of course," you smirked, hands behind your back as you stood at his shoulder, "they're honeysuckle."

"Native to only Highgarden, just like I called you in your youth," Evin added, plucking a bloom to admire. "Do you know why they're planted here?"

"I imagine through pollination?"

"A sound guess, but no," your uncle handed you the flower. "These were imported years ago, but have only bloomed now."

You nodded, sucking the bud to extract its honey-sweet taste, asking through puckered lips, "Imported by whom?"

"Do you remember your 17th nameday?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess, it was only a few years ago. You weren't here, you were on some diplomatic matter, right?"

"Inna way. After I concluded my affairs, I returned to Highgarden. You see, Prince Aemond confided in me how he wished to do something special for your birthday and knew you missed home. He asked me to bring these seeds back."

"Aemond asked you to plant honeysuckle?"

"Specifically here," Elvin grinned, "so they were within easy reach."

"So why have they only just now bloomed?" You tried to keep the jittery excitement out of your voice; baffled yet giddy from hearing about Aemond's kind gesture.

"There's an old legend," Evin gestured you to the patio table and chairs that was dressed for your social visit. "It's said, when the honeysuckle is gifted from lover to lover, they will only bloom when love surrounds them. I believe they have come to life this season as a portent to an impending match to be made."

"You spend too much time with Otto, Uncle, you're starting to sound like him - veiling your words and talking in riddles. Tell me why you called me here, Uncle, I know it's not for a botany lesson. Out with it, please, for the sake of my sanity."

Evin chuckled, watching you lean forward to pour two mugs of tea. "I was wondering, sweet niece, what the nature of your relationship is to the Prince Aemond?"

"Oh," you blinked, adding a sugar cube to your brew before stirring in a bit of milk, "well, I hate to disappoint, but I don't know what to tell you, Uncle. We're friends, nothing more or less."

"You seem real chummy."

"We're close, yes."

"Romantic?"

You scoffed, "Uncle, please - "

"Tell me the truth of it."

"Nothing inappropriate or unseemly nor nefarious has occurred between us, Uncle, I promise you. The Prince and I are just friends."

Evin sipped his tea, nodding slowly, "Well, humor me. If I asked who you would marry, who would you choose?"

"Well, as of right now, I'd choose myself since I don't know the men at court yet, only rumors and whispers."

"And if the offer of marriage presented itself, would you marry the Prince?"

"I would do my duty to our House, no matter the suitor."

Evin nodded slowly, "If I said I had struck a pact with the Queen and Hand, what would you say?"

"That despite what I've just said, if you marry me off to Aegon, I'll pitch myself from a window."

Your uncle's head tilted back as he belted short laughter. "I would never condemn you to such a fate, honey girl! Have more faith in me. I speak of Prince Aemond - it's why I asked about him."

"Uncle, speak plainly. Have you attempted to make such a match between the Prince and I?"

"Pending a few logistics, the Crown's interested in the match."

The words echoed in your mind on an obnoxious repeat for the weeks to come, surely living a dream. The longer you dwelled on the impending match, the giddier you felt; a secret smile brightening your features, small spring in your step, an air of positivity hanging around you that even the tiresome Rogue Prince wouldn't be able to taint. The One-Eyed Prince has long been your best mate for a decade, surely, this match would've been offered sooner or later; it was a smart choice, the definition of compatibility.

Some might've referred to this elation as "cloud nine", though you'd say it was cloud 10, 11, 12, 100! You were flying high, feeling good, and mistakenly allowing your hopes to heighten while imagining what marrying your best friend would be like.

You prepared for that evening's courting session with a dreamy, dazed look in your eyes. Even your ladies-maid picked up on your joyful spirit; questioning through her smile, "What's got you so distracted, my Lady? You've been staring off into nothing with that smile for an hour now."

"Huh?" You met her eyes through the vanity mirror, the woman standing behind you to intricately braid your hair. "Oh, no, no, nothing, I'm only lost in thought."

"Which thought?"

"It doesn't matter, it's just a thought. When it becomes a notion, I'll tell you, my friend."

She repeated with a grin, "'Yeah? When's that? Are you expecting good news?"

"Perhaps."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," she playfully tugged your hair. "Do you know which dress you'd like to wear tonight?"

"The lilac one," you answered, lips stretching your smile.

"You mean the dress that matches Prince Aemond's eye perfectly?"

You both giggled girlishly.

When you arrived at the Throne Room, there was already more than 75% of guests in attendance; getting a jump on their mingling. You greeted several familiar faces, locating your best mate standing at the side with his arms crossed and shoulder leaning on a pillar. "Well, you certainly look happy to be here," you teased when at his side, leaning on the other side of the intricate column.

"It was Mother's idea, Rosie, you know I do not dance," he frowned. "She's not given up the hunt to make me a match. She's adamant this is the year."

"Perhaps if you participate, you could organically meet your future wife."

"Hmm," his eye rolled, thin lips quirking in a smirk; gaze turned on you, watching you scan the room.

There was another 20 minutes of mingling before dinner was called, laid out on tables that stretched the entire length of the Throne Room. Naturally, like every single day, you and Aemond took side-by-side seats together at a risen table that hosted the royal family which provided an incredible view of those in attendance this eve. With your elbow, you nudged Aemond's bicep, making him lean over instantly so you could speak in his ear quietly. "Looks like Lady Fell and Lord Blackwood are gonna jump each other's bones," you mused, smirking, adding, "though I heard she's already hiding a growing belly and is trying to nab herself someone more mature in age with the intent to trick the Lord into thinking she's having his baby."

"No," he scoffed in amusement.

"Yes!"

"That's diabolical. Blackwood's the father? Truly?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"Good for him, good for Blackwood - didn't know he had it in him." He paused to take a pull from his goblet of wine, continuing, "Hm! Look, look," he grinned coyly, "do you see what I see?"

"It's packed in here, so... No, I don't see whatever you're seeing."

He snickered, "Lady Mormont looks smitten with Lord Greyjoy, looks like she wants to eat him."

"I thought he was romancing Lady Redwyne?"

Aemond hummed in amusement, "Perhaps he is considering options, courting more than one lady. Are we taking bets this season, again?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Lay out the criteria, what're the parameters?"

After thinking a moment, you answered, "The pairing and timeline of impending weddings?"

"The stakes?"

You just shrugged, "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," he tisked.

"Fine, uh, how about... 10 Gold Dragons?"

"Both our families have enough money."

"Then you decide the rewards."

He lowered his voice, ensuring his family couldn't eavesdrop, "If you win, I'll go to Highgarden with you next time you visit. But if I win, you have to come flying with me on Vha - "

"No," you snapped instantly.

Aemond smirked, "Those are the terms, my Lady. Do you accept? Or will the Rose of the Realm shy away from challenge?"

Well, when you put it that way...

"Fine," you relented. "You're eager to lose so bad, let's do it. Who do you think will couple first?"

"Does it count if I get at least one correct? Such as, if I predict Lord Umber and Lady Lannister, but Umber marries Lady Tully, does it count that I still predicted Umber?"

You mulled his idea over, humming, stabbing a piece of roast goose from your plate to place in your mouth and chew thoughtfully. "Hmm, no, no, you gotta get the couple completely correct."

Aemond nodded, accepting your terms, "You really don't wish to go flying, do you?"

"What gave me away?"

Sharing a chuckle, Aemond finished, "All right, Rosie, bring it on."

When dinner concluded, once more, patrons were allowed to mix and mingle; dancing to the live band, drink spiced wine to their heart's desires. Like the common wallflowers you were, you posted at the side of the room with Aemond, content to watch the sea of vying adults trying to establish and rush courtship. It was the most comfortable you could be at these events, being anxious in judgmental crowds and seeking salvation from Aemond's domineering aura.

"Lady Tyrell," Jason Lannister purred as he approached you with his chest puffed out, "I was hoping to hold your ear tonight. Your father was telling me about your love to ride horses."

"Oh, my father said that?"

"That's who he said he was - "

"My father's in Highgarden, my Lord," you corrected, knowing for fact that Evin always described himself as your uncle.

"Ah, well, right," Jason cleared his throat in embarrassment. Did this pompous arsehole just lie about talking to your father to give the illusion he was an honorable man? That your father approved of the golden headed Lannister? "Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?"

"Perhaps not," Aemond cut in sharply, bringing the tension to focus.

"My Lord," you distracted, on behalf of Aemond's anger, "uh, thank you for asking, that's very kind of you. Though I'm afraid, I'm all, uh, danced out. I won't be on my feet much longer."

"Means fuck off, Lannister," Aemond growled, appearing positively murderous at the honey blonde's audacity.

Jason eyed Aemond, stiffly bidding, "I see. My Prince, my Lady, enjoy your evening."

You bid the older widower the same, Aemond chuckling the moment the lion was swallowed by the crowd. "As if you'd ever dance with a Lannister, let alone court him," he mused, looking down at you. "But he had the right idea, you need to dance at least once. Shouldn't waste this dress standing on the side with me."

"I'm quite comfortable here with you," you shrugged off, seeing your uncle at the royal banquet table exchanging hushed words with King Viserys and his Queen, Alicent.

"C'mon," he held his hand in offer, palm up.

"What? No, no, Aemond, I'm not dancing - I've two left feet!"

"You can break every toe on my feet and I'd still ask you. Just one dance. With me, Lady Tyrell."

"You don't dance!"

"Perhaps the mood has taken me. C'mon, petal."

Your head turned from left to right as if looking for someone spying on you. The moment your hand laid daintily in his, you melted right there on the spot, not having any coherent recollection about how you ended up in the middle of the overzealous contenders. You realized you'd follow this man anywhere.

Beating off your immense anticipation and overwhelming excitement to join The One-Eyed Prince for an intimate activity, you kept your composure amongst everyone else. But, my Gods, did you want to scream in delight the moment he placed one hand on your waist and the other clasping yours to raise in the air at your side. But in this position, you could feel the ridges of his stomach - making you briefly feel embarrassed, wondering how you must've looked to the members of court.

"You sure about this?" You whispered nervously, but you had a feeling that was due to the intense concentration he pinned you with.

"We'll be fine, Rosie, just breathe and follow my lead. I got you."

So launched your dance with Prince Aemond Trgaryen, second son of King Viserys. You couldn't divert your gaze from his porcelain, angled face to save you from overthinking your dancing skill - or lack there of. A few times, he'd smirk and whisper how good you were doing, mind flashing to an image of you and he, married, tumbling in bed sheets together while he praises you. Everything he did became sinful to you; every touch, every glance, every smile, every private studying session setting your skin on fire and heart to beat rapidly.

It was a longer song, string instruments creating a pleasant, ideal, slow-paced, soft environment. Yet you couldn't hear the music, too focused on Aemond's single piercing eye and quirked lips. It was as if the two of you existed outside of time and reality, forgetting the people packed in the stuffy room. Aemond told you softly, "See? You're not so bad at dancing - you just need the right partner."

You wanted to be partnered every single dance from now until your death with Aemond.

"I thought you couldn't dance?" You coyly questioned.

"I said I don't dance, not that I couldn't."

To your idle shock, Aemond gave you a few twirls that made your hair and dress fan around you in an angelic motion. Dare you say it, you even laughed with mirth when you found yourself enjoying the courting season more than ever before - all thanks to your best friend and hopefully, soon-to-be intended. You were acutely aware of his hot and heavy hands holding your flesh, knowing this feeling would burn into your skin to remind you of his closer-than-close proximity. To remind you of his gentleness, to remind you of this dance and the way he gave you his complete and undivided attention.

When the musicians concluded the song, you were grinning authentically while joining in the applause to show appreciation towards the artists.

"Gods," you panted, "that nearly winded me. Think I'm out of shape."

"And you said you had two left feet," he mocked with a scoff, head shaking, but the smirk on his lips told you he wasn't serious. "You're a natural, Rosie."

"You're not such a bad dancer yourself, my Prince," you complimented, the applause subsiding as a new song began. "Though you'll have to excuse me while I get a drink."

You parted way in search of two empty goblets and one of the servants carrying decanters of spiced wine. After being served, you rocked on your toes to try and gaze over the heads populating the room. You were unsuccessful, so, you backed up to the edge of the crowd and moved around the involuntary empty loop along the wall, behind the pillars. There was no reason finding the white haired prince with an eyepatch would be this difficult, yet, you got more than halfway around the room before finally locating him.

Once again, he was leaning on a column, but he wasn't alone. No, there was a gaggle of Lords around him, all exchanging chatter about the Ladies they had to choose from this season.

"Well, c'mon, what about you, Aemond?" Cregan Stark pondered. "Things with The Rose look like they're escalating - congrats. Are wedding bells on the horizon?"

Hearing your name, you quickly scurried behind the same pillar, just out of sight but able to still listen. Look, eavesdropping was highly frowned upon, you knew it was bad manners, but if you heard men gossiping about your name, you would've done the exact same!

Aemond scoffed in pure amusement, "Come off it, Stark."

"No, c'mon, mate, I saw you two," Cregan continued, "dancing together, pressed all close."

"You two make a handsome match, logistically speaking," Paxtan Florant labeled. "Could marry someone abundantly worse, I think you two are quite the pair."

"Handsome and logical as it may look, there's no possibility I'd court the Lady Tyrell, let alone marry her," Aemond declared with a chuckle, your heart stalling and brows wrinkling together. "The Tyrells only just obtained their name in court, they're still too low born for a prince to entertain. Peasants like that are uneducated, prominently not intelligent enough to be my counterpart; uncultured, unwise, unable to retain most information we study during lessons."

You blinked in shock. If anything, you were Aemond's ONLY intellectual counterpart!

"So, she's not as smart as you, mate, so what?" Cregan cocked his head. "You don't need smart, you need fertile and capable."

Though he was attempting to defend you, Cregan's words made your skin prickle. How could they think you weren't intellectually on their level? Was it because you were a woman? You read the same books, attended the same tutoring sessions, was questioned on the same material they were and hardly ever answering incorrectly! And yet now you're reduced to your reproduction system?

The Prince scoffed, "Think about it, if I married a Tyrell, their lowly standing would taint the Targaryen bloodline."

"So, it was all an act?" Paxtan snickered, "C'mon, mate, you two looked dazed, all enamored with each other. Can't convince us there's nothing there, not after that."

Aemond chuckled, "You want the truth?"

"Lay it on us."

"I shared a single dance with her because I pity her. Don't any of you? The way she all but repels suitors? Surely, you've noted her dresses as well? They're terribly revealing, unlike anything a proper lady would don. No self respecting woman nor future princess of mine would wear something like that. It's as if she's so desperate for attention that she has to flaunt her flesh just to get a man to look at her since her personality surely doesn't reel suitors to her."

The men laughed, your mouth dropping open in offense. You're not chasing men away - look what happened with Jason Lannister! It was Aemond who told him to fuck off! After years of friendship, was this truly what Aemond thought of you? How did it come to this - the man you loved, the man you considered your best mate, slandering your name to any able ear willing to listen? How could he speak such calamities about you? Was this entire friendship a folly, just a cover for his pity? Was he only your 'friend' to entertain his own selfish boredom?

Was everything just in your head?

"I don't know, I like how she dresses," Tyler Lannister mused, the teenaged son of Tyland Lannister, Jason's twin brother.

"None the less, I find desperation unattractive in a woman," Aemond rejected, tears gathering in your eyes to silently stream down your cheeks. "Besides, Lady Tyrell isn't my type, she talks far too much. Truly, there's never a moment of silence, I cannot even hear my own thoughts when she's prattling - and it's never anything of substance, just useless nonsense. It's as I said, it was a pity dance, I felt sorry that she has little to no suitors."

"Seriously, mate, have you considered the reason she has no suitors might be because of her proximity to you? They might stay away because they feel threatened by your friendship, thinking she's spoken for - and trust me, no man here would dare compete against a prince for a lady's affection," Cregan scoffed, mildly disgusted by Aemond's choice words.

"The courts know there's no affection shared between Lady Tyrell and I. We are simply friends - no more or less - and that's as far as our relationship will ever progress."

Cregan hummed, nodding his head sarcastically. Then his curiosity questioned, "Answer this: are you attracted to her?"

"Truthfully, I just don't think she's... Attractive enough to be my wife. She's a pretty lass, I'll admit, but if she's called the Rose of the Realm, I fear to learn the appearance of other ladies from Highgarden." A few lads chuckled. "Additionally, there will be public outings I must attend, and as my wife, the people will expect to see someone alluring - someone qualified and fit for the position as a princess of the Realm. Someone stunning and worthy of the title, able to fulfill royal responsibilities."

"Gods, why're you so against this match? You're being terribly superficial, judgmental, and defensive - she's your friend, after all. Wouldn't this be a love-match? Do you know how rare those are?" Luras Arryn snarled, sounding genuinely distraught and jealous.

"And if you're so against her, why do you constantly escort her to formal events?" Arnas Blackwood tacked on. "It creates the illusion that you're courting, my Prince, surely you're aware of that."

"As I stated, her blood isn't pure, but she's also criminally clingy. She's always lingering around and I feel awkward not inviting her to royal events - since she's right there, all alone, in front of me. I only invite her out of obligation. Again, I take pity on the girl, knowing when she leaves the Red Keep, she'll never experience this life again."

"Well, if not the Rose of the Realm, who do you have your sights on?" Luras Arryn asked stiffly.

Aemond's smirk was clear as day, answering swiftly, "The Lady Floris Baratheon is appealing enough."

The lads obnoxiously cheered in supportive approval, directing the conversation in a new direction about how bloody gorgeous Floris was - one of them even mentioning she deserved the nickname, Rose of the Realm.

You heard enough, more than enough, more than you ever wanted to know in an entire lifetime; rightfully insulted past belief and violently nauseated, feeling cold and mechanical. As swiftly as you could, you rushed to set the goblets down and speed walk towards the doors, shoving past both individuals and couples; not wanting to linger where you're clearly not wanted. Where you were apparently not welcome. After making your inconspicuous getaway, tears fell faster than earlier, mind replaying Aemond's words while sprinting to your chambers.

Describing you as clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Dubbing you an improper lady who lacked self respect. Thinking you talk too much - that you prattle nonsense. Labeling you unworthy and unqualified to be his wife or assume the title princess with all the relating responsibilities. How he pities you and doesn't ever want to be more than your friend; thinking you're uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Declaring House Tyrell peasants who would taint his family's pure bloodline. How you 'have' to flaunt your flesh to attract suitors - since your personality did you no favors. Marking you a friend out of obligation...

Were you even friends? Did you even understand the definition of a friend? Have you been operating in a delusion this whole time?

In the words of King Théoden: how did it come to this?

Feeling utterly humiliated, you ran away from your peers; lungs heaving, huffing and puffing, panic ready to overflow. You burst through the wooden door, fully sobbing by now, engaging the iron lock and dropping to lean your weight against it.

Most, if not all, of your insecurities were aired out like soiled bedsheets for all eligible bachelors to know. Aemond might as well have hung a painted wooden sign around your neck: DESPERATE AND CLINGY LOSER - DO NOT ENGAGE.

Nothing about this situation felt normal, it all felt terribly impossible; absolutely heartbreaking and vile, like it was some kind of bad dream. But everyone woke up from dreams. You'd never wake up from this, you'd be forced to remember and relive it day after day. Tonight would haunt you, cast a dark shadow around you as if a thick, temperamental, torrential storm. Yet every storm eventually breaks, but tonight, there was no remedy, no shelter, no protection - you had to weather this alone.

It felt foreign, enduring anything by yourself. For years, Aemond was your partner, always at your side, level headed, insightful and wise; supportive, protective, calming, and something like a safety net when you faced trouble. Now, he's left you devastatingly alone; where after tonight, the very idea of being in the same room as him made you nauseated and anxious, fearful and small.

In that moment, your brain screamed that you were no longer welcome in the Red Keep - Uncle Evin's position be damned.

You sat on the stone cold floor for the better part of half an hour before your bottom turned painfully numb. After sluggishly hiking up your dress skirt, you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, standing to swollen feet to unhook your jewelry and place everything in their safe and proper place. Then, a particular necklace made of red rubies set in a thinly crafted Valyrian Steel chain caught your eye and mocked you. It was Aemond's gift on your ten-and-eighth nameday, laid in a plush velvet case for adequate preservation. This simple piece of jewelry was your absolute favorite in your collection, a treasure beyond words of appreciation that you greatly admired, now rusting in salty tears.

Being gifted this necklace had once convinced you Aemond might've felt the same for you as you do him. You remember even trying to rationalize it as a sign that the One-Eyed Prince was at a loss and didn't know how to confess his feelings. That he was shy, perhaps afraid to ruin your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Angry tears of betrayal fell like acid over your cheeks, gritting your teeth, clenching your jaw as you snapped the velvet box closed and with a barbaric grunt, hurled it (with impressive strength) across the room. You felt so confused, so lost; deceived, lied to, and puppeted - and then the anger flared again when you realized what family you were angry with.

Why bother being upset, emotional, distressed? You had no right because your feelings truly didn't matter - not in the grand scheme of things. Nobody cared about your trivial feelings! You were just a Tyrell and by comparison, a peasant nobody who never deserved, earned, warranted, or was bestowed respect. In fact, to the Targaryens up on their mounted pedestals, none of you mattered - not a citizen in all Seven Kingdoms.

In fact, it was almost treated as a curse to not be a Targaryen. Some kind of punishment for daring to exist amongst the privileged royals as a lowborn - which, despite your family's newly established status in court, you were still characterized as. In their eyes, anyone NOT a Targaryen was lowborn; deemed unworthy to the white haired bloodline, being merely tolerated for the sake of politics, strategy, and reproduction. It was a sick game, and the Targaryens always won.

They do what they want, when they want, with no consideration towards other people's safety, emotions, wellbeing, stability, or comfort. The Targaryens were always stationed above everyone because, after all, they were closer to Gods than men; entire family spoiled, entitled, narcissistic, holier than thou, avoidant of any and all consequence.

They're legendary. Untouchable and worshipped.

And you? You're just a Tyrell, the tiny beetle trampled under the God's boot. Beetles were essential to any ecosystem, similar to the Tyrell's providing to the Realm productions of wheat, grain, barley, and corn. Similar to your family, beetles are also disposable - meaning the Targaryens might tolerate you, but they never need respect you. They could stomp you into the ground whenever they wanted because where one beetle died, three more takes place. Where one House might falter and fall, become doomed, eradicated, or subcomes to tragedy, others step up in an effort to establish their usefulness; prove their House's necessity to the Realm's ecosystem, attempt to diminish the threat of being razed to the ground by dragon fire.

Why be so upset with the Targaryens when they can do no wrong? What right did you have? And how could you ever think a Prince of the Realm would remotely be romantically interested in you?

You felt delusional and pathetic, crying over a man who was never in your league. Yet betrayal gutted you like a fish, a bright reminder that your friend would expose you like that; offer loud disrespect, speaking hatefully, to finally voice hidden malcontent. It felt impossible to stomach that your first friend, your favorite person, secretly hated you.

Because how could he not? You did not love anyone you could speak so lowly of.

Sobbing harder, you yanked pins out of your hair, working at break-neck speed to strip from your gown, then freezing when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looked distraught with exhausted red eyes; glowing in defeat, in a desperate need for a long, hot soak in the washtub. With shaking hands, you tossed a spare blanket over the mirror, despising the sight of yourself as Aemond's words continued to ring on a loop in your ears.

Clingy, desperate, unattractive, not his type. Improper, lacks self respect, talks too much, lacks suitors. Unworthy, unqualified, pitiful, never desiring to bloom past friendship - which is constructed around obligation. Uneducated, uncultured, unwise. Unfit, tainted, lowborn blood with a lowly personality. Revealing, tempting dresses.

Your mind, heart, and head screamed that no matter how hard you hoped, prayed, and tried, you'd never have a place among the Targaryens. Yelled that Aemond's right: you're ugly on the inside and out; damaged goods, undesirable - all because you were not born amongst fire and blood. Bellowed about your lack of quality, purpose, contribution. Reminded you that the one person you trusted unconditionally never truly wanted to be your friend; that he spoke horrendously on your name when absent, didn't value who you were - and never did.

He took every insecurity you confided in him and weaponized it; used it against you, made it into a joke with people you didn't trust nor want to know about you...

You sunk into the bath water, submerging as if to hide from your own thoughts.

The knock at your chamber door didn't surprise you. Servants and your uncle had been coming and going since you first refused to leave the morning after the ball. You figured Aemond would come around eventually, too curious for his own good and still under the impression he had to play "friend", thinking his deceit was unknown to you.

Aemond called your name through the door, asking, "You awake? Could I come in?"

You didn't answer.

He sighed, "C'mon, I know you're there. You haven't been seen in four days, you have to eat. You should get some air, feel the sunshine."

Silence.

Aemond frowned, "When you're ready, come find me, petal. I'm worried about you."

You wiped the tears off your cheeks, pulling your knees to your chest. For four days, you couldn't stomach the idea of running into the Prince, just wanting to avoid anyone or anything that would remind you of what Aemond said. You understood there were several decisions left to be settled, lost in an endless rampage of confusing emotions, maids bring you full trays of food and removing them with more than half still left.

Humiliation knotted in your chest, the harrowing thought of punishing yourself for being so stupid something you couldn't fight. All you registered was the feeling of betrayal, something that inked into every single thought you had, but with it came sinking realization that you were done. Simple as that.

On the sixth night, you sat with Uncle Evin, forking through your full plate and blurting, "Don't do it."

He paused to finish the bite in his mouth, "Do what, honey girl?"

"Don't - Don't make a match with Alicent and Otto. Don't make the arrangement with Prince Aemond."

Evin nodded slowly, washing his bite down with a mouthful of wine. "There a reason for your change of heart, love? The Queen thinks it's a handsome pairing. Just before, you seemed content with the match - dare I say, you seemed pleased?"

"Things change, Uncle," you spoke evenly, "and I can't shoulder this responsibility. In fact, I... I do not think I'm capable of making my own match. I will be stepping away from courting for the time being."

Your eyes seemed distant and dark, proving serious. So Elvin agreed easily, allowing you to withdrawal from the current season officially. He understood something was deeply amiss and didn't want to make worse whatever turmoil you teetered in. He didn't want to upset you and make things worse - you obviously had enough going on.

Aemond knocked again the next day, "Petal? You awake?" But you didn't answer. He sighed, "You've been missing lessons, love, and I just... I brought you some books. Thought maybe you'd like to catch up?" When there was no answer, he ended, "I'll just leave them here for you, petal... I'm not sure what's wrong, but I hope you're all right in there... I miss you."

You scoffed quietly, wiping your tears.

Ten days after withdrawing from the courting season, you left your chambers for the first time. But it wasn't like anything changed - it was still as if you were invisible, like a ghost. Losing your best mate turned you silent, refusing to attend lessons and since Aemond was your source for solace, had turned to seeking shelter at the Sept. It was the easiest way to avoid everyone - mostly Aemond.

He had shunned the religion the older he got, though respected his mother's devotion to it in trying times. He couldn't remember the last time he was in the Sept... So, it was perfect for you; a safe space.

You were no longer seen in the library - a once daily occurrence. If you ever wanted to read, you sent your ladies maid to collect content for you; but the drive to learn and read had abandoned you as swiftly as Aemond's loyalty. The stables grew cold in your absence, refusing to ride; something that troubled your uncle gravely. No longer did you take meals with family or Aemond, always seeking solitude to eat alone in your room or the physical kitchens; the Red Keep growing dark over your lack of sunshine - that had shone so brightly in the previous weeks. Even then, when you ate, it was in small quantities to only sustain yourself; mostly feeling nauseous when food was put on your stomach.

The first time Aemond saw you, you were returning from the Sept in a dress that reached close to your pulse point of your neck. He tried to get to you, but you slipped through the cracks of the Keep and disappeared when he dodged around a set of Kingsguard. Yet it was still a comfort to him to know you had left your room finally.

He knocked on your door about half an hour later, but like usual, you didn't answer.

"Rosie?" Aemond called, sighing. "I know you've not been feeling yourself, but, uh, tomorrow's Helaena's nameday. We're having dinner for her on the terrace..." He waisted, not hearing a single thing from within your chamber. "You're invited, as usual, petal. Your uncle said he'd attend, wanted you to know you're always welcome at our table."

But you didn't show up, you couldn't bear to see any of them.

You didn't eat that night, you were far too anxious and spiteful against yourself that you refused to allow yourself to indulge in celebrating your companion.

Despite withdrawing, you still heard rumor of all the matches being made and the courtships established through your ladies maid. A cord struck in your gut when you heard the couples you had bet upon were public and engaged, but so were Aemonds... Which meant you both won; and if things were different, would mean a flight on Vhagar to visit Highgarden. On nights of merriment, you would sit alone in the Godswood sometimes; attempting to connect to the Old Gods, but they never spoke back. They never connected with you.

Tonight, you were under the blood red leaves in earnest curiosity; quiet, just as you had been since the day you found out Aemond's betrayal and discouraged your uncle from making a match. It was there Elvin found you, frowning as he took a seat beside you in the grass.

"The Old Gods do not speak to me," Elvin offered softly.

"Nor I," you whispered.

"Yet I always feel at peace here," he nodded, sighing deeply. "I must ask you something, honey girl."

"Hmm?"

"Do you... Do you wish to depart? From King's Landing, I mean?" He questioned. "I ask because I intend to ride for Highgarden, your father's nameday nears. Your mother intends to throw him a grand celebration, since turning 50 seems such a milestone."

"You ride for home?"

"Tomorrow morning."

You paused, then answered, "I would like that... There's nothing left for me here."

Aemond's words had done irreparable damage, making you feel worthless and alone. Bitter. Damaged and unworthy of any such match; forever worrying if your best friend could harbor such ill will and hatred for you, surely, a husband would as well. Yet you were not new to being a woman; you knew the role you were to play, how marriage was strategic and calculated. Political. You could be a wife, you were so sure of it; but would you ever feel worthy of love? You feared you never would.

"We will stay a few weeks."

"I don't know if I would like to return, Uncle."

He offered a sad smile, "I figured as much. But should you want to, feel able to, you may return. You, my sweetling, are always welcome at my side."

You leaned into his shoulder, sighing softly. "I should thank you," you whispered in the wind.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me all these years," you lifted off him to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to, but you wanted to... And you've shown me a father's love when I thought it gone from my life. Thank you, Uncle."

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, humming, "Don't tell the others but you were always my favorite. I consider it a great pleasure to raise such a gorgeous young lady - and I mean that, honey girl. Inside and out. Now," he pulled back and found his feet, offering his hand to you, "come, we've packing to complete."

"Of course."

However, while in the midst of packing, you felt a jolt in your heart. This had been your home of a decade or more; these people were who you grew and learned with. Who influenced your life in the best and worst of ways; they did not deserve to read your praise and thanks for friendship in a letter... So, you swung a cloak on and ventured out of your room.

Otto was first since he was the easiest to say goodbye to. He was gracious of your parting words of thanks; telling him how much you appreciated his wisdom and riddles.

Aegon was next. He insisted you share a last goblet of wine together - since you did not intend to delay your parting. It turned into a bit of a drinking game with his mates, but you didn't mind; far too used to the company of these debaucherous lechers. Dare you say, you enjoyed yourself.

Helaena was after, your words harder to say as your emotions strangled you. She was a sweet girl, an endearing companion, constant and dependable, albeit a bit strange and unorthodox. But you loved her all the same and cried tears of sadness when hugging her tightly as a last ditch effort to convey your gratitude for her authentic and generous friendship.

You only offered Ser Criston Cole a soft, "Farewell."

Alicent was perhaps hardest to say goodbye to. After Aemond, you were probably closest with the matriarch and found her wisdom and lessons a privilege to learn. She was kind to you; usually with a stern hand, but that was because she could recognize the little girl you once were who missed her mother tremendously. She introduced you to religion, another common bond. She encouraged you, supportive and curious; sharing affinity for the histories, often reading to one another for moments of peace.

Saying goodbye to Alicent hurt. You both shed tears of sorrow, the Queen wishing you the very best and insisting you return for her nameday and other celebratory events. She told you to write, told you to keep in touch; insisting if and when a match was made, to invite her since she would love to attend your wedding. Truly, Alicent considered you one of her own and to know you were departing in pain wounded her.

King Viserys was last. He was already in bed, half-asleep, a Maester at his side; but still, he accepted your audience. You thanked him for his hospitality and kindness - especially to your uncle. You thanked him for hosting you, for allowing you residence at the Keep and the for the years living under royal privilege. You told him you'd not forget his generosity.

You returned to your chambers after that and finished packing. You didn't sleep.

When morning broke, you stood in the courtyard with Elvin; packing the wagon you would use, your horse tacked and waiting as you both intended to ride. Alicent and Helaena came to see you off, hugging you tightly one last time before the Queen offered you a handheld velveteen case. "Just a little something to remember us by," she smiled lightly.

"Oh, as if I'm in a hurry to forget you?" You mused. "My Queen, this is too much, I cannot accept."

"You have not opened it."

"I do not need to, I know you," you smirked. "Your leadership these years is enough gift, my Queen."

"I'm not taking it back, you might as well accept it," she insisted. "Helaena and I picked it out together..."

You lifted the case lid, blinking in shock and gasping lightly. There laid a gorgeous chain necklace of Valyrian Steel, a dragon pendant dangling from front with gems of bright emerald - surely a representation of the Hightower side.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Princess," you breathed, closing the case and caressing it to your chest. "It's more generous than I deserve but will treasure for the decades to come."

Queen Alicent nodded and pecked your forehead, leaving you alone with Helaena to speak with Elvin. The moment her mother was gone, the Princess asked, "Did you say goodbye to Aemond? I'm surprised he's not here."

"No," you spoke softly, "I cannot, Helaena, it is too painful to even look at him - let alone share words of parting. I have nothing left to say, no more words for him."

She frowned, "You know... I don't think he meant what he said. He says things he does not mean when anxious or feeling as if he's cornered."

Your head cocked, "What? H-How do you know what's been said?"

"I saw it - in one of my dreams."

You sighed, "I know you mean well - "

"I just do not wish for you to think that is his honest opinion about you."

"If it wasn't, he would not have spoken so loudly for so many to hear. Your brother has never sounded so sure, Helaena, I do not wish to relive it."

She sighed and nodded, "Will you write?"

"Every week," you promised, the two of you meeting foreheads and breathing as one. "Take care of yourself, Helaena."

"You, too, Rosie," she smiled, letting you depart. Alicent clipped your new necklace in place and gvae you a final hug, watching you mount your horse, stare at the pair for a moment longer, then follow your Uncle Elvin out of the courtyard.

As you rode down the streets, Aemond came sprinting out of the Keep in a blind panic after running into Aegon in the hall. Normally, Aemond wouldn't have bat an eye at his hungover brother, but he had said something about you drinking him under the table and demanded to know what Aegon meant. Upon hearing you had "left", Aemond sprinted to your bed chambers and didn't even knock - just burst in.

Never before had the Prince felt such anger as when he learned you had left King's Landing without saying goodbye. Without a single word to him - as if the past decade+ hadn't meant anything! He needed to know, Aemond needed to see for himself the truth because surely, someone was mistaken. His brother, surely still drunk and misremembering because there was no possible way you could've left! Not without Aemond! Not without a word! He refused to believe it.

He panted, tears gathering in his eye, finding your room bare and stripped. Aemond's breathing picked up in panic, hands shaking as he stepped into your room; looking, desperately, for any sign of life. But there was nothing... Nothing, save for a letter addressed to him left on your table with the ruby necklace he gifted you for your 18th nameday.

Gingerly, Aemond reached out and plucked up the necklace. He frowned, petting the jewels in disbelief; noting the way a few were missing, some loose - evidence of your anger. Slowly, Aemond sunk into a chair and with the necklace still in hand and his heart hammering in his chest in a rattle, opened your letter.

Aemond ― I know you'll be the one to find this, of that, there's no doubt. Sooner or later, you will learn of my departure and come looking, and for that, for being unable to say anything in person, I am sorry. Though this might come as a shock, it shouldn't as I would hate to give you the satisfaction of being right by burdening you with a desperate goodbye. I would hate for you to think I am clingy, even after our friendship died. So, I figure a letter is better than nothing. Goodbye, Aemond. Though all a lie and dedicated ruse, thank you for the years of friendship. You made time in the Red Keep pleasant enough. ― Rosie

Aemond sprinted to the courtyard, flinging open doors and shoving past patrons; desperate to find you, understanding you overheard him all those weeks ago and needing to apologize. He needed to explain himself, the confirmation now that Aemond was the cause of your pain and reclusion? His heart was about to burst. He skidded to a halt in the dirt, turning left and right and in a circle as he realized the gates were open and you were not in sight.

"Aemond?" Helaena questioned softly, Alicent taking to her side. "Brother?"

"Wh-Where is she?" He panted. "Rose - Rose - Rosie, where is she? Where is she!?"

"She's gone, Aemond," Alicent frowned, shaking her head slowly; startled by his desperate tone, "gone with her uncle back to Highgarden."

"When? When? When did they leave!?"

"She's gone, brother," Helaena snipped, sending him a look of disappointment; ears ringing from her dream, repeating what he had said to you.

Aemond swallowed harshly, asking his sister, "She heard me, didn't she? I know you know, Helaena, please, tell me. She heard me?"

The Princess nodded and walked away, the One Eyed Prince turning to his mother in desperation and for the first time in 10 years, perhaps more, he collapsed in her arms. Emotion clawed at his chest and into his throat, starting to tremble, sniffing heatedly; his mother's arms tight and comforting.

"I love her," he whispered.

"I know," Alicent answered, "but she should've been the one you told." A pause and her hand lifted to caress the back of his head, just like when he was a child. "It's too late now, Aemond. She's gone."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

does this count towards the Clingy Baby collection? since Aemond technically calls her clingy amongst other things?

705 notes · View notes

buckymorelikefuckme · 2 years ago

Text

cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

#avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you

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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 13 days ago

Note

May I request different first meeting + meet funny? 😘💕💕💕💕

Cos we all deserved some fluff and floof in life heheheehe

Yes, you can! I hope you enjoy this and it makes up for the sad one!

Here be fluff, a different first meeting, and some laughs:

Donut Day was sacred.

This fact had been drilled into Tommy from his very first shift at Harbor. If it was your turn in the rotation, you came to work, donuts in hand. Or else.

Tommy was no fool. He'd never let himself find out what 'or else' was.

When it was his turn for Donut Day, he left two hours early so he could hit Pete's Donuts—arguably the best donut shop in all of L.A.—grab a selection of everyone's favorites, which he had memorized, thank you very much, and still make it to work on time.

Tommy was the king of Donut Day.

Except today—

Today, some guy—some punk kid—was going to cost him his crown.

To be fair, it wasn't entirely the kid's fault. Working an afternoon shift meant stopping by Pete's after the morning rush, but before the lunchtime restock was complete. Tommy thought he'd arrived early enough, but the shelves were looking pretty sad.

Which would have been fine if this guy hadn't made it through the door before him, securing a place in line ahead of Tommy, and seemed intent on buying out the place.

Nevermind, it was all this guy's fault.

Him and his...legs...that seemed to go on for days.

"I'll take that last Oreo one, please," the guy said and Tommy huffed under his breath.

Sorry about your luck, Jenkins. You're going to have to live with your second favorite—

"And that last strawberry shortcake one, too."

"Seriously?" Tommy whispered to himself, cursing his bad luck.

"Ooh, and that last triple chocolate one—"

"Oh, come on!" Tommy exclaimed, the words bursting out before he could stop them. Because really? Even the triple chocolate?

His favorite?

"Dude, what is your problem?" The guy whirled around to glare at him and Tommy felt it like a punch to the chest.

Because the donut thief was gorgeous.

Forget the legs for days and the muscled back and the equally muscled chest and arms—good god, the arms—how could Tommy focus on any of that when he was faced with the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen.

And pouty lips on a mouth that had dropped open ever so slightly as the Donut Day interloper stared back at him.

"My problem?" Tommy asked, tearing his eyes away from the pouty lips back to the beautiful blue eyes that had gone wider when he took a little step closer. "My problem is you're going to get me fired if you keep buying up all the donuts. Or at least have a whole crew of hungry firefighters calling for my head."

He sent the donut thief a rueful smile. "Think you can help a guy out?"

"Y-you're a firefighter?" The guy said and if Tommy thought he was gorgeous before, he'd clearly misunderstood the meaning of the word. The grin that stretched across his face lit it up so brightly, Tommy suddenly understood why moths made such poor life choices.

He took another step closer. Drawn in by the light.

"I'm a firefighter too," the guy exclaimed. His face fell suddenly as he looked between Tommy and the display case of donuts. "It's my turn to bring the donuts too and if I don't bring the right ones, I'll never hear the end of it. Chim really likes those Oreo ones and Hen loves the strawberry shortcake—"

"Wait." Tommy laughed, shaking his head. "Are you at the 118?"

Of all the coincidences...

"Y-yeah, how did you know?" Blue Eyes grinned and this time he took a step closer.

"I used to work there, with Howie and Hen and everyone," Tommy said. He stuck a hand out. "Tommy Kinard."

"B—uh, Evan," Blue Eyes—Evan said. "Evan Buckley."

"Well, Evan Buckley, let's see if we can figure out a donut arrangement that works for everyone, yeah?"

The next ten minutes were spent playfully haggling over their choices—even going so far as to ask the very patient counter employee to cut a few in half. Tommy was pretty sure she'd been Instagramming most of their exchange so he didn't feel too bad about it.

Finally, donut boxes in hand, he and Evan left the shop, both lingering for a moment out on the sidewalk.

Tommy didn't miss the way Evan's eyes lingered over him at the same time. Zeroing in on his chin for some reason.

"That was some pretty good trouble-shooting in there," Tommy began, shaking Evan out of his chin-centric thoughts.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Evan said, shaking his head with a little laugh. "I'm going to get roasted over those donut halves though."

"You won't be the only one," Tommy said. He could already hear Jenkins' voice ranting at him over it.

But more importantly, he could feel the seconds ticking away before he and Evan would be going their separate ways and Tommy—for some reason—really didn't want to let that happen.

"You should give me your number," he heard himself saying. "So we can commiserate later."

"O-okay," Evan said, already digging his phone out of his pocket. "A-and you should give me yours. Tell me how you like the lime and jalapeno donut."

The one he'd talked Tommy into trying even though Tommy had zero tolerance for spice.

He was somehow already a complete pushover for this man.

They entered their numbers into each other's phones and handed them back with little grins.

"I should get going," Tommy said reluctantly, not able to put off the inevitable any longer. "It was really nice to meet you, Evan."

"You too," Evan said. "Tommy."

With one last smile, one last look, Tommy headed down the sidewalk to his truck, Evan leaving in the opposite direction.

Tommy turned back for one last last look and almost blushed at getting caught by Evan as he did it—before he realized Evan caught him because he was doing the exact same thing.

And Evan was definitely blushing.

Well.

How about that?

Despite his little donut thief adventure, Tommy still made it to work in plenty of time. He dropped the donuts off in the kitchen and stepped back as the hungry masses fell upon the boxes.

"Kinard!" Jenkins yelled out a few seconds later. He emerged from the huddle holding up half of an Oreo donut. "What the hell, man?"

"It was for a good cause," Tommy said. "Trust me."

Jenkins kept cranking at him, but Tommy was already tuning him out, attention caught by a new text on his phone.

A message from Evan.

Tommy opened it, chuckling over the picture of a very disgruntled looking Howie and Hen.

They're questioning our choices, the text read.

We'll just have to do better next time, Tommy wrote back.

He chewed on his lip, watching as three bubbles blinked in and out on his screen until finally—

Same time next week?

Can't wait, Tommy replied quickly.

He was going to be doing some heavy editing of the donut rotation for the foreseeable future and everyone was just going to have to deal with it...

Because Tommy had a donut thief to woo.

(This was from this ask game!)

#ask game #asks answered #fun asks #writing exercises #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #kinley #kinley fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #buck x tommy #different first meeting #fluff #humor

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avelera · 11 days ago

Note

following up on my last ask about misconceptions, what is something in each viktor and jayce that you find very interesting/apparent that you think people shouldn’t overlook? or rather, something you wished people talked about/acknowledged more?

(i love reading your analyses/rants lol)

Thank you! I think overall for me it's Viktor's kindness and Jayce's competence which are both really almost superhuman and often overlooked.

1 ) For Viktor, I think his kindness is actually really interesting! So often, scientist characters are written as misanthropic and even cruel. I think that's why Viktor is often tarred with that brush.

But actually, Viktor is pretty scrupulously polite. For example, even while he disappoints and dismisses Sky, he's not rude or cruel about it, he's just focused on what he's doing. The meanest he arguably is to Jayce is when he quips that Jayce might be egotistical for signing his notes (implying that Jayce believes that what is in there is sooo valuable and important that he wants it to be attributed to him), but it is clearly teasing and once Jayce talks about how beautiful magic is, Viktor never teases him like that again.

Viktor is even incapable of framing an invention that could save his very much at-risk life as anything but a way to help others. He's so incapable of bringing harm to others or wishing ill on them that he struggles to ask for help and is ashamed of the idea that he could dedicate valuable cycles of their ingenuity to anything but making the world a better place, something he believes in passionately. He loathes the idea of suffering and the senseless waste of conflict. Once he has otherworldly power, he seeks out those most in need and tries to heal them, then works to establish a community of safety where everyone is welcome.

Honestly, one reason I push back so hard on cruel takes on Viktor, especially takes where he strikes people (like with his cane) or where he directs personal insults at Jayce is because he is not shown to be like that very tired scientist trope. He's arguably the kindest, most pacifistic character in the show. He reacts with anger at just the idea of scientific progress being turned towards weapons to hurt others but even when at his most enraged, he never raises his voice and he never makes attacks personal, he always focuses on the substances of the argument and keeps his discussions intellectual, even when he's deeply hurt or scared or angry himself. He's a fascinating character for this reason and it feels like a disservice to ignore this.

2 ) For Jayce, I think his competence is often overlooked. He's frequently thrown into situations that are far outside his experience but, all things considered, he succeeds far more often than he fails in a way that is almost superhuman. If anything, I feel like people should be more annoyed with him for how naturally good he is at things than how he sometimes makes mistakes!

- Jayce isn't a politician, but he does manage to broker a peace, tackle systemic corruption, and head off a potential civil war (to the best of his abilities before it all goes to shit for reasons largely outside his control) within weeks of getting the job. He has an absolutely meteoric career for the little time he spends there and the very little preparation he had. He also executes a coup against the founder of the city that is successful within weeks of getting there and regardless of how you feel about him deposing Heimerdinger just to save Viktor, that is pretty impressive lol that he managed to get a unanimous vote on it from people that just a week or so before were ready to sabotage him for his aforementioned crusade against corruption.

- Jayce invented Hextech. Viktor is the innovator and he pushes its boundaries, but Jayce is still the one who invented it from scratch (or rather, from one acceleration rune) with a dream and a box of scraps.

- Jayce (with Viktor) invented the Hexgates and championed them. He would have changed multiple industries with that move. Like, him getting canonized as the Man of Progress isn't crazy, something like the Hexgates would change the world even in our world with all its technology.

- Jayce isn't a fighter but he holds his own against Shimmer berserkers, some of the most fearsome fighters in Arcane, pretty much by just being physically gifted and knowing the abilities of his hammer very well since we didn't see him train with it or anything. On this count it's almost infuriating how lucky/good he is as something at which he has little or no practice, compared to say Vi's lifelong fighting ability. Jayce is able to watch others and pick up cues quickly.

The fact he killed a child is a tragic accident but, there he also learns quickly, realizing faster than others, even arguably Vi, where his own morals stand and taking that unwavering stance that he will do everything in his power to avoid civilian casualties from that point on. (Many people get mad at him for making weapons for Cait but, I would argue, we have no evidence that she hurt civilians outside the Chem Barons' organizations AND her strike team helped avoid a larger invasion, which would align with Jayce's goals after the death of Renni's son). Honestly, all the child-killing Jayce memes annoy the fuck out of me because of how impactful it was on him and how hard he worked from that point on to make sure it never happened again. No one gives Viktor the same shit about killing Sky even though they were similarly accidents.

Basically, Jayce is super good at almost everything he touches. He reason he's seen as less competent is because he goes outside his field of expertise more than I'd say ANY other character does in the show and even then, after some initial flailing, he gains mastery in an astonishingly short time. Jayce is actually a mental and physical genius and I think that gets overlooked a lot in fanworks that make him out to be some incompetent puppy.

#jayvik #arcane #arcane meta #jayce talis #viktor arcane

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writing-mlm · 18 days ago

Note

saw you do familial reqs? damian with an older brother figure reader would be so awesome.. bonus points if he’s also some moody bat and just kinda sees himself in damian. he used to be a sort of outcast himself, so he can empathize with damian when dame feels like he’s sort of ostracized from the other robins or bat fam members.

Annual New Robin Trip

Summary: Damian’s been Robin long enough that it’s his turn to go on the Robin Trip Pairing: Damian Wayne & Brother!reader Wc: 4.5k tags/warnings: sibling bond, both were child assassins, Bruce is bad at parenting

Dick was the bubbly, bumbling Robin. People used to say he was truly a circus kid; flipping from chandeliers and being a little terror. Although everyone is pretty sure he was definitely out for blood whenever he had the chance. He would tell the most awful puns while fighting and Bruce wouldn’t even scold him.

Jason was just happy to be there, he had everything he could ever ask for and he was taken in by Batman! Oh, boy- oh, boy! He would hide under the cape and yell boo to all the petty criminals Bruce let him fight. Until he couldn’t anymore.

Tim had the easiest life prior to donning the R on his chest. After that, he was the worst Robin. Not because he was bad; Tim was arguably the best Robin during his career but because he never got to experience the things Dick or Jason had. He was left picking up the pieces after Jason’s death, holding Bruce together to the best of his abilities. He went out on patrols alone, with no cape to hide under or any grumpy adult to hold in a chuckle.

Stephanie wanted to prove a point, she pushed Bruce in ways Tim didn’t. But in the end, she was pushed to the side. No one even remembers her time as Robin. The girl Robin, the blonde one. It was only what… seventy-five days? Why would anyone remember her? Forgotten in the murky waters of Batman’s timeline. Erased.

Damian wasn’t as fortunate. He didn’t come from Gotham or a traveling circus hiding a cult. He came from the Ra’s Al-Ghul, he came from the demon head. Born a killer, bathed in the pit— his life was cursed from the beginning. Sorrow and rot; that’s what his life was even after he put on the Robin suit. Despite being the only Robin connected to Batman by blood, he was the biggest outside in the bunch.

He couldn’t do anything right. He kept messing up— his father was constantly disappointed by him and he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. He’s doing what he was taught— the blade. He hadn’t meant to take another life— he was trying to be better. But he doesn’t realize when he’s going too far because, for him, the limit didn’t exist until less than a year ago.

You could relate to that… all too well.

“What do you want?” Damian grits when he spots you on his desk, messing with one of his countless knives. He hides his face, not wanting to show a weakness— his weakness. “I thought father threw you out.” Some time ago, maybe two months ago, you and Bruce had gotten into an explosive argument that ended with a frozen pork chop on your eye and a frozen bag of peas on his chin before he told you never to come back.

“He did,” You hum, unfurling yourself from the desk and standing tall. “I know the security system— and Pennyworth let me back inside.” You smile.

“Pennyworth shows little loyalty to father,” He spits, sitting on the bed.

“He shows plenty, Damian. He knows something that Bruce doesn’t, at the moment.” You tilt your head as you add the last part. Bruce will find out sooner than later anyway, might as well tell him.

“And what’s that?” He asks arms crossed as he glares at you. You look away and huff, rolling your head onto your shoulder.

“I need his opinion on something, something important.”

“And you’re in my room?”

“I also wanted to speak to you,” You admit. ��You’ve been here long enough for us to continue the tradition.” He pauses, hand settling on the dagger he keeps in his pocket.

“What sort of tradition?” The only traditions he’s used to are fights or death; neither of which is he in the mood for.

“Nothing like the League, I can assure you. I.. I take all the Robins on a… bonding trip after they’ve settled in.” You explain, now sitting on a chair. “I took Jason to the arcade and a library in Prague, Tim to my family’s annual barbecue and fishing, and Stephanie to this spa retreat for the weekend. It’s your turn.”

“Why would I care for this… bonding trip?” He asks, setting the dagger down. “I’m not like the others— I’m better. I don’t need some stupid trip with a rejected hero,” Shrugging, you look at the mirror on his wardrobe. You see Damian, sitting while glaring at you. You see yourself, staring at the signs of age and tiredness on your, admittedly, not old body.

“Talk to the others about it, just not Richie. He never got one.” Leaving, Damian thinks for a second before he follows after you. As quiet as a mouse, he slips into the cave after you, clinging to the darkness as he’s been trained to do.

“Is it that time already?” Dick asks when you enter with your hands in your pockets. He’d been talking with Bruce about something, but he was too far to hear. Bruce spins around, looking you up and down with a watchful gaze.

“I have news,” You roll your eyes when Dick pulls you into a hug. “About my assignment.”

“No one assigned you to it,” Bruce reminds you, guilt flashing over his eyes. You shrug and lean against your older brother, your head resting on his shoulder. He squeezes your arm, happy to see you again. He’s always been happy to see his first baby brother safe and sound; at home.

“I found their base; took them down, too.” You tell them, fighting the urge to tuck into yourself. “They were hiding out in Australia.”

“Did you kill them?” Bruce asks. Damian pressed against a rock, his small figure hidden perfectly as he watched the three of you. You don’t answer, but your eyes drift to the ground when Bruce sighs through his nose. “I have one rule.”

“I know,” You stress, pulling away from Dick. “I know! But I didn’t mean to! But they wouldn’t give me any other choice; do you think I wanted to kill them? I tried to save them,”

“Clearly not hard enough,” Bruce blinks and Damian falters in the same way you did. Bruce had said the same thing to him not even three hours ago. “You should’ve contacted me. I could’ve saved them.”

“I tried,” You stress. “I called and I sent letters. I- I— You never answered me! I didn’t want to kill them!”

“B,” Dick puts a hand on your shoulder as you sniff and look away. “You know that they wouldn’t go; he had to.”

“We could’ve—“

“God! You’d think after raising one child assassin he'd be better at this.” You spit and wipe your nose. “You’re still shit at helping us.”

“(Y/n),” Bruce sighs. “You know I love you and I love Damian, you’re my sons.” He holds your shoulder and you falter, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Hell of a way of showing it.” He doesn’t apologize, Bruce doesn’t know the word sorry but he hugs you. You don’t hug back, just pat his shoulder until he pulls away.

“I’m glad you’re home safe.” He whispers before he finally pulls away. “It’s a shame you had to kill them.” Nodding, you look at Dick.

“I had to kill my parents,” You admit, trying to keep yourself composed when he frowns and immediately hugs you. “They kept calling me and calling me, begging me to join them again. I couldn’t… I’m tired of killing. I see them when I sleep, their faces. Their blood was so warm.”

Damian looks away, flashes of the people he’s killed plays through his mind and he leaves the cave. He needs to be alone. His eyes are stinging and he’s sure if he breathes any harder he’s going to be spotted.

“Aside from that,” You clear your throat and fix your clothes. “Damian’s been Robin for… some time now. It’s nearing the time where I take the new Robin out for a trip.”

“If he agrees,” Bruce nods.

“I still haven’t been taken out for a trip,” Dick dramatically sighs.

“You’re older than me. You’re supposed to take me.”

“Can I?” He gleams and you shake your head with a smile before walking away. “Please!”

“No, Dickie. You suck at planning,”

—

You don’t spend the night at the manor; it hasn’t felt like home in years. You hate your old room, you hate how Bruce hasn’t touched it since you’ve gone; everything besides that stupid broken picture frame. It’s been swept up, and replaced with a different frame.

And somehow, the picture that was inside sits on your kitchen island.

Your current place is temporary, rented out on a monthly basis with some shady landlord you don’t truly care about. The lease is hardly a day old, so for someone to have known where you lived they must’ve been recently following you. For them to have access to the picture they’ve been in the manor. Because that’s the same picture, you know because there’s an inky, smudged fingerprint on the back.

“You were close to my father?” Damian asks as you enter the living room, still holding the picture in your loose grip.

“Thick as thieves,” You grin, although there’s no happiness or warmth behind it. Setting the table on the side table, you sit next to Damian.

“You mentioned your family's barbecue earlier but they’re assassins. Assassins don’t do family barbecues,” He should know.

“Different family,” You breathe in, staring down at him while he looks around the dingy apartment. “I… My blood family are assassins and yeah; no family barbecues. But eh… I’m sort of married,” You laugh and his head snaps to you. “Yup, I got married at twenty. Love of my life, they’re wonderful. I consider their family my own,” He tuts at the idea of love and you remember yourself doing the same thing when you were his age.

“I assume they know?”

“My spouse does, yes. Their family… do not. It’s not exactly something they’d want to hear about their son-in-law.”

“Does father know you’re married?”

“No— maybe,” You shrug. “If he does he’s never mentioned it. I don’t hide it but I never bring them around him.” He tuts and stands up. You watch with a careful eye as he struts into your kitchen and steps up to the counter, climbing to reach the cabinet and then standing to reach the top shelf to grab a cup. He rinses it out before opening the fridge.

His nose turns up at the options and you hold back a laugh, watching as he picks out the water jug before pouring himself a glass. He sniffs the water, eyeing you wearily before holding the cup to you.

God, you’d done the same exact thing to Bruce when you first arrived.

Taking a sip, he seems content when you don’t have a reaction other than pouring yourself a cup and slowly sipping his drink.

“I assume you’re from the Shadows?” He’s strutting back to the couch while you lean against the counter, holding the cup by the rim with the ends of your fingers.

“Shadow adjacent. Subsection created about fifty years back,”

“So you were born into it?” He sets the now empty cup on the table and picks up the picture, carefully examining it, and then checks the date on the back. “For twelve years before you met Father.”

“I was,” You nod. “Joined Bruce and Dickie.”

“Before you gave up.” He adds. You laugh, shaking your head before finishing your water in one big gulp.

“Damian, I didn’t give up. I was… I couldn’t live up to Bruce’s expectations. It’s hard not killing but I tried. I tried for years. But every time I went out someone died. So, I learned to use computers, I stayed in the cave and watched over everyone. I was the Oracle before Oracle was a thing.”

“You were a coward,” He corrects with a tight voice. “You gave up and hid inside of the cave when you could’ve helped people!”

“Damian. It’s not cowardly to stop trying. Because I did eventually go back, but it was under my rules. I stopped listening to Bruce’s voice, his rules, his insane expectations. Dick mentioned you like Veil?”

“I do,” He gives one curt nod. “They’re effective and father gives them high praise.”

“That’s me, Damian.” You grin and for a moment, his jaw goes slack but he quickly composes himself. “You can call Bruce. I have the suit in my closet… help yourself, I guess,” Watching as he rushes into your bedroom, he shuffles through clothes before he pulls out your suit.

“I suppose you’re not a coward.” He settles in when he neatly puts the suit back in its spot.

—

“Yes, Bruce?” You sigh, phone placed between your ear and shoulder as you’re sorting through laundry. “What do you want from me? My soul? My last piece of self-worth?”

“(Y/n),” He sighs that old man sigh he’s started doing after Jason came back and he realized he had to deal with two homicidal sons. Three now. “Damian has requested you at the manor.”

“Tell him I want to experience the Robin Trip.” You hear Damian say and you smile. “Father, tell him!” He demands and you think you can hear him stomping his foot.

“He wants you to take him on the Robin Trip,” Bruce relays.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Pack enough clothes for about five days. Nothing fancy, either.”

You arrive in your trusty mom van. It’s a lovely seven-seater with plenty of trunk space and a rack on the top. Of course, Alfred wouldn’t let you just stay in the driveway. No, it was late so of course, you had to stay for dinner and you’ll leave in the morning. Pinky promise.

“Reject is back,” Jason grins, giving you a tight hug. You hug him back, swaying him from side to side. You’d missed him when you came over the week prior; something Dick says he simply will not stop complaining about.

“Oh, hey,” Tim looks up from his dinner plate and offers a nod. You never did get too close to him; he never wanted an older brother. He wanted Bruce and you simply weren’t him. You nod back, running your fingers along Jason’s head before he shoves your hand away; chiding that he’s not a kid anymore.

“Hmph!” Damian stands between you and Jason, arms crossed as he looks between the two of you. You smile and ruffle his hair despite his protests and threats.

“Staying for dinner?” Bruce asks from the head of the table, reading the daily newspaper. Even though it’s well into the afternoon, almost night.

“At Pennyworth's insistence,” You nod, detaching yourself from Jason and Damian. “Unless there’s an issue with that.” You add.

“No,” He shakes his head while setting the paper down. “None at all, please, stay. There’s always a room open for you.”

“Aside from the times he kicks us out,” Jason pretends to whisper while Dick barrels down the stairs. You think he did trip at some point but he caught himself.

“I missed you!” He squeezes you just as tightly as you’d squeezed Jason and you cringe, patting his back. Jason snickers while Damian tuts and heads to his seat at the table.

“You saw me last week, Dickie.” You’re put back on your feet and Dick sighs, leaning away from the hug but holds you still.

“After not seeing you for months!” He adds, the smile dropping as he checks you over. This time in proper lighting. “God, leaving me here alone with Bruce. I’ve had to smile every single day with him waiting for you.” He mutters just loud enough that you can hear.

“Not like I had a choice,” You grit, eyes flickering to the table. “Dinner?” You sigh.

“Yes, do take a seat.” Alfred smiles. “I’ve prepared your favorite, Master (Y/n).”

“You shouldn’t have,” You smile at him.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Jason sighs and turns to Damian. “He has the worst taste in food.”

“Jason, not everyone likes burgers dipped in cheese and barbecue sauce.”

“Exactly,” He nods as if you’ve proved his point.

Surprisingly, dinner goes off without a hitch. There were not more than ten snarky remarks, not once did someone awkwardly fake cough to move the conversation along, and everyone’s food remained on their plates.

“Where will we be going?” Damian asks after insisting he walks you to your bedroom.

“You’ll see,” You grin. “I think you’ll like it.”

“I do not like none-answers,” He huffs, crossing his arms. “You could be leading me into a trap.”

“Bruce approved,” Is all you’re willing to give him. It satiates him for now and he stands at your door, waiting for you to go inside. “Be ready by five, we should leave early.”

“Alright,” He nods and walks away before stopping midstep. “Sleep well, (Y/n).”

“Goodnight, Damian.” He nods and continues into his room.

—

At five on the dot, Damian knocks on your door. You open it, already dressed and packed. He’s the same, with a large bag slung over his shoulders and an almost happy expression on his face.

“Head downstairs, I need a couple of things.” He hums and turns on his heel while you look around your room. Grabbing one of the first books you’d fallen in love with, you slip it into your bag and then your first-ever sketchbook.

Once you’re downstairs, Alfred hands you a metal mug with your favorite breakfast drink, then a neatly wrapped breakfast sandwich, and then a light lunch. He knows you won’t stay for breakfast and wishes you farewell. You thank him and load up the minivan, Damian sits in the passenger seat and you have to question if he should be in the back. And in a booster seat.

For some reason, you don’t think he’d take to sitting in a booster seat.

Driving off, you play calm music and sip your drink. He’s quietly eating next to you, careful to not get crumbs in the car. He falls asleep halfway into the drive, his head hanging in an awkward position so you maneuver to lower the seat for him. He stirs awake, grabbing your wrist as you’re moving away but he drops it once he realizes it’s you and slowly falls back asleep.

Eventually, you reach your farm. A lovely place in a lovely town that has flea markets every Friday and everyone keeps their doors unlocked.

Your land is sectioned off by a lovely oak fence, spreading across the eight acres, a dull red mailbox with the hand up greets you and you check the box. There’s a small package and two letters that you toss onto the dashboard.

Damian wakes up as you’re driving up, his eyes finding the cows and chickens you keep lazily chewing on the grass. He sees a wild fox, chasing a wild rabbit through the lawn, scaring a group of pigs inside of their pen in front of a horse stable.

He sniffs the air, confused. It doesn’t smell like livestock and he knows how livestock farms smell.

“Where are we?” He asks, craning his neck to look behind him. There’s nothing but open fields for miles but he can see a house in the distance.

“My house,” He turns back to you. “I have a homestead— it’s just a fancy word for living on a farm, really.”

“You do believe in botulism, correct?” He sneers, stepping out of the van. You bark a laugh and nod.

“I’m not crazy about it— I just raise my animals and tend to my crops when I’m not out being Veil.”

“Why would you decide to live here?” He asks and you notice his tone isn’t as harsh as it once was. His eyes scan over your fields with a look almost similar to contentment. He looks at the cow with a fondness you can share while you collect your bags. “You’re an assassin, not a farmer.”

“I can be many things,” You shrug. “I’m a farmer, a vigilante, a painter, a former assassin. I’m not bound by one thing. Don’t you have hobbies?”

“I have no time for such trivial matters,” He turns his nose up as he pushes inside the house.

“Ra’s is a doctor on the side. Dick is a detective. Jason takes care of the orphaned kids. Tim runs a company. I’ve seen his skateboard collection. I’ve seen Dick teach gymnastics at the local gyms. Bruce has his charities and all of his foundations. Jason has an enormous collection of books.”

“I only read informative books, anything else is a waste of my time.”

“Maybe,” You shrug. “Let me show you to your room, you’ll settle down and then meet me in the kitchen. Take as much time as you need, there’s no rush.” He nods and you show him to the guest room. It’s incredibly plain but nice. You shut the door behind you and text Bruce that you’ve arrived without any hiccups. He doesn’t reply but you see that he’s read the text and you go about your day.

You have a pair of old working boots from your spouse's nephew visiting; they should fit Damian just fine. Setting them on the bench, you slip yours on and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, walking down with careful eyes until he sees you.

“I assume I’m to wear these?” You nod and he tuts, slipping them on. “What type of training is this?”

“You’re going to learn patience and to enjoy life.” You smile, ruffling his hair before tossing him an egg basket.

“That’s ridiculous.”

—

Dick reacts with hearts as you're sending him pictures of Damian collecting duck and chicken eggs. Videos of him milking cows and cleaning out the pig pens. He’s glad that Damian is having fun, each picture and video seems to have Damian in a better mood. You send him pictures of his drawings and he remarks that he’s already talented with a pencil. You don’t tell him that he’s gotten into reading, too. But you do tell Jason, swearing him to secrecy.

You look up at Damian as he sits on your porch, an easel and canvas in front of him as he paints your backyard. It’s only been three days but you’d like to think you’ve made an impression on him. He’s woken up earlier than you to feed the animals, he enjoys talking to them and tells you that your defenses are subpar. So you took him into town to grab items to make your fence stronger.

He hated when the townsfolk would coo at him, remark that he’s such a strong boy for carrying the wood and bags while you carried the metal and other bags. You wonder how he’s going to like the flea market. You hope it won’t be overwhelming for him; you know it was for you the first time you went.

“What happens when they die?” He suddenly asks, still painting one of your cows. Looking up from your phone, you stare at the back of his head and then the painting.

“You know how I’m a metahuman, right?” He nods. “I can… see how much longer anything living has. And I can communicate with animals, so, I tell them. I tell them that they don’t have much longer. Sometimes they ask to be left in peace. To die naturally. Other times they tell me to get it over with; they’re ready. If they ask that, I’ll… take them to the butcher. They agree, of course.”

“So the meat we’ve eaten these past days…”

“That was from my chicken Mile and my cow Dan-Loop.”

“Why? How could you?” You notice that his grip on the paintbrush is tightening and you inch closer to him.

“Because it’s what they wanted. They know they’re farm animals, they know that humans eat their meat. They know. And some of them don’t care. They live happily here. And I give them the option of what they want to do. One time, one of my pigs was dying and SeaSaw told them that he wanted to be released. Travel as far as he could before he returned to the Earth. I watched that pig run and run for a while before he turned and looked at me. He thanked me and went up that hill and stared at the sunset.”

“Isn’t it hard?” He asks. “Raising all these animals knowing you’re going to outlive them.”

“It is. But I also know that I’m giving them an amazing life. It’s better than them being stuck in cruel mills. They’re seen and heard. And trust me, if those ducks and chickens were angry, your hand would be picked at for trying to take their eggs.” Damian nods, looking down at you. You’re looking at your animals, taking in the setting sun.

“Do you think father would let me start a farm?”

“Maybe. Ask him on a good day. If he does, you can take Jerry. He likes you,” Damian beams, knowing exactly which animal you’re talking about.

“Okay, thank you.”

—

“Why did you leave and come here?” Damian asks as you’re driving to the flea market. “You mentioned you couldn’t stand being around father.” The question makes you think about your years with Bruce, all the things he’d taught, and the things you spent years unlearning. Things weren’t all bad with Bruce, though. You still cherish your fond memories like the first time he’d taken you to the ice cream parlor or when he’d taken you to the Monterey Bay Aquarium after he saw you watching Nemo too many times in a row for it to be a simple obsession.

“Bruce and I have a complicated history. And sometimes, to love someone, you need to stay away. I can’t see your father too often; it’s too painful. I care about him; I’m sure he cares about me but it’s too much. We’re too different. And coming here was like…” You purse your lips. “I was finally free from what I'd become. I could live a separate life from my place in the family. I had no obligations here; I made it my own.”

“What’s your place?” He asks, sparing you a glance.

“I wasn’t the best at what I did. I was angry, a lot. I don’t know if you’ve met yet, but Mr. Fox would say I was moodier than Bruce. I was violent; I wasn’t sure of my place in any of this. I kept trying to prove myself to Bruce but I kept failing. I felt like a mistake for a long while.” He looks down at his lap, messing with his jeans before he speaks up again.

“What made that feeling go away?”

“Getting hobbies.” You admit. “I drew a lot. I made friends. I got closer to Dick and Jason. I removed Bruce from that pedestal and saw him for the man he is. Not as the man I wanted him to be.”

“What man is he?”

“He’s like us. He’s flawed and he makes mistakes. He’s not perfect and neither are we. We’re all trying. Now, come on. Your father gave you five thousand so you can buy whatever you want.”

He smiles and grabs the bag from the dashboard, leaving you in the dust while he admires the homemade objects people are selling.

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x you #batfam x reader #damian wayne x brother reader

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fallenclan · 2 months ago

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Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around

okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.

Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.

You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.

You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."

The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.

Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.

Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.

You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.

A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.

Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.

You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.

You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"

You aren't.

#RRGHHHH. RRAHGHHHH. MAPLESTAR. RHRHHGHGHH. CHEWING.#fallenasks #fallenfic #< id say this kind of counts #everyone use all your brainpower to think about maplestar #hope all this makes sense. it does in my sick little brain

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sreabhadh · 1 month ago

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Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

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

He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.

#TexAid #Keferon #Vortex POV #Thanks y'all for introducing me to this madness #Writing Jenga #Mech AU

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hockeyboysimagines · 16 days ago

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Summer Heat

Pairings: Matt Rempe x Female reader

I know I said I’d never write for him, but I’m trying something new for the new year. He’s grown on me, and I wanted to shake up my blog a little bit. Please be nice. I’m treading unfamiliar waters here.

Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Drug consumption(weed), mentions of drinking, skinny dipping, nudity, kissing, sex, references to sex

The music was pounding so loud it was making your chest hurt as you made your way through the house, sidestepping a puddle of liquid you hoped was alcohol and left the kitchen. Sweaty bodies of people you’d known for years were laughing, dancing, toasting and doing keg stands in every corner of the room and you smiled a little as you watched it.

Summer was arguably the best time of the year here at home. Everyone was suddenly free of plans and responsibilities, and parties erupted at the drop of a hat. What had started as a casual hangout with just a few people had evolved into a rager and you were having a great fucking time.

“Hey!” You turned in time to receive a giant ass slap from Darcy, your best friend as she came up behind you “I’ve been looking for you for ages. Where were you?”

“In the bathroom…” you trailed off, reaching in your pocket and glancing over your shoulder as you pulled out a joint, twirling it between your fingers “Wanna take a walk.”

“Hell yeah I do come on.” She followed you out the back door and off the deck, weaving in and out of people and heading past the rows of cars till you reached your own and the two of you huddled behind it.

You gripped it between your fingers as she flicked the lighter and lit it. The embers glowed bright orange in the darkness as you took a drag, inhaling and handed it to her so she could do the same. As she took her own hit and blew out the cloud of smoke you heard a voice.

“DEA hands up.”

You both turned, joint still in her hand and came face to face with a waist, eyes moving up till they landed on a face. A familiar face.

Matt Rempe.

“Damn. I think you got taller.” You said with a small laugh and a cough.

“Nah that’s just the weed talking.” He said with a chuckle, stretching an arm out and tapping his fingers together at the blunt. Darcy passed it to him and let out a long exhale of smoke.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She said glancing over at you.

Your relationship with him was weird. While you were pretty good friends, it had always been on the verge of something else. It would become intensely flirtatious for several days and then fizzle out. Each time it happened it got flirtier and filthier than the last and Darcy swore this time was when it was going to blossom, and then nothing happened. When he returned home, and you saw him again, both of you acted like it never happened the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even a situationship. More like a flirtationship. You’d never even kissed the guy, though you wanted to, but at this point it had been going on since highschool and it was getting a little bit old. Either he liked you or he didn’t, but days of flirting and then nothing at 22 was just annoying. After the last time, in which several photos and vulgarities had been exchanged and then he faded out of your life, again, you swore to Darcy over a Vodka Cranberry, that you were done with him romantically, sexually and flirtatiously forever. Realistically though, the three of you had the same circle of friends so it wouldn’t be possible to avoid him forever. Sooner or later you would have to see him. You had just hoped it wouldn't be this soon.

“Yeah aren’t you supposed to be in jail or something?” You said with a snarky smile. You weren’t saying it to be funny. You were saying it to be rude and Darcy knew it based on the small giggle she let out. You weren’t about to tell him you’d been keeping tabs on his season, but you had. He’d made quite the impression when he hit the NHL and it was impossible to not see him all over the internet. You would be lying if you hadn’t watched him fighting online multiple times. Even if he lost, it was totally hot.

But you would never EVER tell him that.

“Nah they can’t catch me.” He mumbled, joint between his lips as he took a drag. He blew out the smoke glancing up at the sky and then at you “So what’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in like 5 months.” He swatted an ash off the end of it before he handed it back to Darcy.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” You said crossing your arms. Darcy glanced between you and cleared her throat, extinguishing the end of the joint and putting it in her pocket.

“I need to pee. I’ll be back…later.” She sent you a small smile and an arm squeeze as she walked past you “Good to see you Matt.” She called over her shoulder as she made her way up the front yard.

“So?” He asked again “What’s up?” He was looking at you expectantly and you weren’t really sure what he wanted. He knew why he hadn’t heard from you, he just wanted to hear you say it.

You shrugged “Nothing really. Just doing my own thing.”

He frowned “So that means we can’t talk?”

“No. It just means that I’m not waiting around for your week of flirting and dirty talk and then nothing anymore. I’m too old for that and it’s getting tiring.”

He looked clueless “I didn’t know it was a problem. And what dirty talk?” He said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes “It’s not. But either you like me or you don’t at this point. And come on. How is “I’m going to bend you over and fuck you stupid” not dirty talk?”

Even in the darkness you could see his face turn red and he coughed “Do you think I would flirt with you if I didn’t like you? That’s dumb.” He said leaning down so he was almost at eye level with you.

“Nice aversion. Yeah? Then I guess I’m dumb.” You turned away, annoyed, but he caught you by the elbow, and turned you back around.

“Woah whoa whoa. Why didn’t you just like…ask me.” He was smiling a little “If you wanted to know that’s all you had to do. I thought we could talk about stuff like that.”

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you did you would have made it clearer than just random flirting now and again. You’ve been home. You never made a single attempt to get together while you were here and now you’ve just appeared at a party and I didn’t even know you were home.”

He nodded “Okay. That’s fair. Sorry I guess I just didn’t think you wanted anything out of it.”

“And if I did?” You said raising your chin “Want something?”

He glanced down at your feet and then all the way up, before his eyes landed back on your face and realization lit his eyes up like a lightbulb. Talk about dumb. You leaned forward a little bit, motioning for him to come closer. His lips were almost touching yours when you leaned your head back and stepped away from him, pulling your elbow from his grip.

“I think I’m going to go swimming.” You turned on your heel, making your way down to the lake as quickly as possible to beat him there, knowing he was following, but also forgetting he was a real life giraffe and would likely be right on your heels.

“Wait hey what-“ he called from behind you, but you weren’t waiting around for him to question you further.

You hurried down the crude rock steps, the only sound being the music as it grew more faint and the slap of your flip flops against the ground as you neared the water. It was probably terribly cold, and there was nothing sexy about lake water, but it would have to do for now. Your entire body felt hot and sweaty and you needed to cool down. Plus you had almost kissed him and then chickened out so you needed to actually go swimming now to cover it up and make it seems like you were being coy. The weed had kicked in by now and the edges of your brain felt fuzzy as you neared the water, a haze coming down over your eyes and in an instant your chi was centered and you felt relaxed enough to let your guard down.

As you reached the edge, and kicked your shoes off you turned to find him halfway down the bank.

“Hey how are we going to go swimming if-“ but the words died on his tongue as you looked him in the eye and pulled your shirt over your head and kicked your shorts off, leaving you completely naked. He stood open mouthed, frozen mid step as his eyes loved all the way down to your feet and back up.

“Answer your question?” You called as you hurried into the water, praying to every god imaginable that no one else had seen you besides him. You made it a point to only be naked in front of a limited number of people and as Darcy had seen you naked countless times, and now Matt, two people at one party was enough. The water was frigid and the only thing that kept you from screaming was the fact that your body was on fire from the near kiss and your strip show just seconds prior. What was in that joint. Whatever it was disappeared as the shock of the cold water had sent you straight back into sobriety.

You were already chest deep in the water by the time he reached the waters edge and you turned your back while he undressed, scrunching your eyes shut from the cold before turning around to find he’d paused, shirt half off.

“So you rip your clothing off and then don’t want to watch me do the same? What gives?”

“It’s not fair that you get a great view and I get an average one now is it?” You said turning away from him, legs kicking under the water.

He made a noise of indignation from the bank and then mumbled something too quiet for you to hear. You heard him wade into the water but didn’t turn around until the splashing quieted. When you did, he was waist deep watching as you swam around.

“I can’t figure you out.” He said after a moment, moving forward a little bit.

“What’s the figure out?” You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, gently moving your legs so you were almost floating. The water in your ears was drowning out the music from the party behind you, and the moon was shining down on the water, catching each ripple as it came off of your body moving gently in the water.

“Well I don’t know but you almost just kissed me up there, stripped, now you won’t even look at me. Is this a test?” He asked wading in deeper. He looked confused and for a second you almost felt bad but then you remembered your whole relationship with him was confusing and the pity went away.

“If it was you’d be failing.”

He was closer now, almost up to his shoulders in the water, circling around you like a shark “So you like me right?”

“What makes you think that?” You asked turning to watch him as he made his way in a circle. You stayed low in the water, the end of your ponytail just touching the surface, careful to keep all your vital parts covered.

He looked down at the water and then back up and smiled “I mean. You are naked under there so.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Your legs were burning from treading water and you were hopeful the slimy thing that had just touched your ankle was a fish. Playing coy naked and cold was no easy feat “Darcy’s seen me naked before. That doesn’t make you special.”

“Really?” He said appreciatively eyebrows raised “But you didn’t almost kiss her….wait. Did you?

You shrugged and made a face “I’ll never tell.” As you turned to swim away, you felt an arm slide around your waist and hold you in place. He wasp ressed against you from behind, and any chill you had was gone now. He slid a hand across your waist, and turned you to face him.

The kiss was slow, wet, sloppy and a little bit awkward as he pulled you closer, wet hands and limbs sliding against eachother as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself up to reach him. Kissing him was weird after the build up over the years. Though it was all your expected it to be, you felt like things just weren’t right.

After a moment he pulled away, and looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“That was-“

“Yeah.” You answered, arms still around his shoulders. He had a large hand on either side of your waist and he chewed on his lip.

“Should we try again? You know. For science.”

You giggled and then shivered a little but nodded “Okay. For science.”

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was like you’d figured eachother out now, mouths fitting together perfectly. You gripped the hair that was wet and stuck to his neck, as he ran his tongue along your lower lip. You felt like the water was boiling as his hands moved lower down your back, moving beneath the water to slide under your legs and hoist you up.

Your heart was hammering but before you could do anything further, a sudden breeze reminded you that you were now half out of the water and completely naked.

“Uhm. I’m committing a crime here. It’s called indecent exposure.” You whispered against his mouth. He glanced down and smiled.

“I’d say that’s pretty decent.” He set you down and glanced around to make sure you were still alone.

“Let’s…get out of here. I’ll get your clothes.”

You sank lower in the water and took a large, deep breath eyes closing.

You knew what was coming, and the anticipation of it was making you shiver, or maybe that was the water, or even the weed which you had hoped would chill you out but it hadn’t. Either way you needed a towel, a blanket and a cold drink asap.

“Coast is clear.” He motioned for you to get out and held up his shirt so you could slip your bra and shorts back on and extended a hand to pull you up the bank.

The air still had a little chill in it in mid June as you followed along behind him silently, teeth chattering for a few moments before you asked “Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure honestly” he said with a small chuckle and a glance over his shoulder “We could leave I guess. Go somewhere.”

“We can’t go to my house.” You said shaking your head “No boys allowed, and I’m not doing anything in there.” You pointed at the house behind you. You’d accidentally walked in on two hookups before he got there, once in a bedroom and one in the bathroom and while you hoped it had been great for both of them, you didn’t want to be on the other end of that.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes “We’re in our 20s. It’s supposed to be easier to find places to hook up not harder.” He turned to face you now, resting a hand on either shoulder and looked down, running his thumb across your collarbone “We can drive to my apartment, but it’s like 40 minutes from here.”

“Can you wait that long?” You asked arching an eyebrow.

He smiled slowly “No.” He said as he pinned you against the side of the car, hands everywhere as he kissed you heavily. You couldn’t breath, your skin was hot and your shorts were wet in a way that had nothing to do with the lake water you’d never dried off.

“My car. Let’s go to my car.” You gasped out pointing to it and giving him a nudge. You realized then that you were still wearing only a bra and your shorts were unbuttoned and you were standing way out in the open, making out against someone’s car. He leaned around you to look at it, a 4 door Honda and scoffed.

“There’s no way I’m fitting in that backseat.” He said shaking his head “No way.”

“Uhmmmmmm.” You looked around “What about that backseat?” You pointed at Darcy’s SUV that you knew was unlocked. She would let you use it if it meant you were getting laid and she wouldn’t get mad.

And even if she did, you’d get it detailed for her.

“Who’s car is that?” He asked as you pushed him towards it.

“Does it matter? Who cares just get inside.”

“Okay damn.” He said pulling the door open and holding it for you to leaned down and pull the seats down. You felt your shorts slipping down your legs, and you were sure the strap of your thong was hanging out the top of them, so you hoped he was enjoying the show. As you struggled with the lever, you felt him grab either side of your hips and pull you back a little so your ass was against his front. You gasped and jumped, bumping your head on the car door frame, as one of his hands splayed across your lower back.

“What is this?” You half turned to find him staring down at your lower back.

The tattoo

You’d forgotten all about the collection of little flowers that had been inked across the skin of your lower back, right above your thong line.

He glanced between it and you several times before he gave you a push “Get in the car.”

You crawled inside to pull the other one down, and he was on you before you had time to completely pull the lever. You went flying backwards as the lever released and he pushed you back at the same time. Lips moving feverishly against each others he moved over top of you as you backed yourself up to the trunk. The carpet was already giving you rug burn on your elbows. You felt something soft brush against your shoulder and pulled yourself away to glance over.

You giggled “Look at this. She even has a blanket.”

“She’s gonna be the best soccer mom like maybe ever.” He said pushing his hair out of his eyes as you quickly laid it out behind you and turned back to him. He pushed himself up, hissing in pain when he hit his elbow on the back tire casing, before heaving himself forward, foot hitting the seat. He looked annoyed as he finally got comfortable and focused his attention back on you.

He leaned forward, hand sliding over your shoulder to grip the back of your neck and pull you forward. He’s gained some confidence now and any awkwardness there was before was gone. His weight came down on you as he kissed you again, tongue pushing right into your mouth this time. He ground his pelvis into yours causing you to gasp against his mouth, and let out a tiny noise of surprise. He slid a bra strap down your shoulder, long fingers sliding pleasantly across your skin. As you leaned up to move your mouth across the underside of his jaw you were pulled immediately back down.

“Wait your on-my hair hang on-“ you said tapping his elbow.

He moved up and cracked the top of his head on the window with a loud smack “Ow Jesus CHRIST.” He growled frustratedly rubbing the spot as he fell forward, his weight collapsing on you and knocking the wind from your lungs.

You huffed in annoyance, eyes finding his in the darkness “This isn’t working.”

“Your right. We’re gonna have to find a bed.”

“If there’s one you can fit in. Move over, let’s try this.” You wiggled out from under him, taking the opportunity to kick your shorts completely off and pushed him backwards by the shoulders, swinging a leg over him so you straddled his midsection.

He leaned backward, hands coming up to rest on your thighs and glanced upwards. You raised yourself upwards a few times to ensure that your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling before your eyes moved down his torso.

“Take this off.” You breathed out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He was bigger, broader than he had been since the last you’d seen him, and you needed to examine every inch. He had always been long and lanky, but over the course of his season away muscle had started to pad his frame.

He leaned upwards and pulled his shirt over the back of his head, tossing it to the side and leaning up to kiss the underside of your jaw, mouth leaving a wet trail down your neck to your collarbone. His body felt hot against yours and he slid both his hands up your legs to your waist. You fumbled, hands shaking, with the button and the zipper on his shorts, finally springing them open and yanking them down, tossing them playfully at him. He smiled and propped himself up on his elbows to watch you as you kissed the base of his throat, and made you way down his upper body. You glanced up and leaned down, leaving a wet open mouth kiss on his abdomen, never breaking eye contact as you pulled the waistband of his boxers down agonizingly slow.

“Jesus.” He said throwing his head back against the floor of the cargo hold with a soft thump. You pulled them off, over his legs and tossed them in the front seat, making a mental note of where they landed so Darcy didn’t find them later.

“My turn.” He said snapping the band of your thong. You glanced down.

“How are you gonna get those off? You can’t sit up.”

He looked around and frowned “Fuck.” He let his head fall backwards and his hands fell to his sides “I hate this car. You do it. But do it really slow.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up and slid them slowly down your legs till they were at your knees and looked up.

He was staring at them, lips pursed, eyes squinted for several seconds before he looked up at your face “Just you wait till I get us to a bed.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wiggled them off and made your way back up.

The windows in Darcy’s SUV had started to fog up and you were glad she’d parked so far from the house because the amount of movement the car would be doing in a few minutes would be a dead giveaway as to what was happening inside.

A shiver went from your neck to your lady parts as you swung a leg over him, positioning yourself over him, You took a deep breath, pushing up on your knees before sinking down on him. The sensation of him inside you made your stomach flip sideways and stars explode across your vision for a split second. Your head fell backwards, hair spilling down your back as you braced a hand on the window. You let out a gasp, eyes closing and head falling forward as you lifted yourself up and did it again, going deeper this time. His eyes were closed, fingers gripping the skin on your hips tightly. You began to move up and down, the stretching sensation between your legs was almost overwhelming as you moved slowly. You placed a hand on his lower stomach to steady yourself and he opened his eyes to look up at you as you rocked your hips forward, the other hand braced on the window.

It was a long slow drag of friction that was almost overwhelming. The burn in your abdomen was unbearable, heat pooling in between your legs as you moved up and down. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his chest and your back as the air inside the car became thick and heavy, cold and hot, and your breath could be seen with every movement. Your legs and arms felt heavy, but you weren’t done yet.

“Tired?” He asked, sitting up slightly to palm your lower back.

You nodded and leaned forward on him, using the close proximity to thread your fingers through his hair and tip his head up to kiss you. He put a hand on either side of your waist and pulled you up and then back down, his own hips moving up to meet yours.

You let out a low moan as he did it again, hitting a new even deeper angle than before, digging your nails into the skin on the back of his neck. He moved his mouth across your chest, lips pressing lightly against your sternum as he helped you move up and down his length faster. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled your face down to his “Look at me.” He breathed as your orgasm hit you full force, you let out a strangled cry and your eyes slid closed, breath coming out in gasps.

You were spent, exhausted, and overheated, vision fuzzy as you leaned forward forehead resting on his shoulder. You could feel his heart beating and let out a long breath, looking up at him. He was smiling and reached a hand out to grip the side of your face, thumb stroking across your cheek.

“I told you I was gonna fuck you stupid.”

Your mouth fell open and you slapped his chest, kissing him on the cheek and easing off him. He reached into the front, grabbed the clothing and you both awkwardly got dressed in the small confines of the car without speaking. He got out first, glanced around and extended a hand for you to get out as well.

“I should find Darcy.” You said straightening your shorts out and smoothing your shirt.

He nodded and leaned against the side of Darcy’s car “What are you doing later?”

You pulled your phone out and checked the time “It’s 12:30.”

“And?” He said staring at you blankly.

“Nothing I guess. Why?”

“Come over.” He said with a smile.

“To do what?”

He just smiled and kissed your cheek before turning and making his way towards where his car was parked some feet away.

“Hey!” You called “Did you just come here to hook up with me and then leave.”

He smiled and shrugged “I’ll never tell. See you later.” He called as he disappeared into the darkness. You watched him leave, turning in time to see Darcy making her way over.

“There you are. Did you and him talk things out?”

“Oh. Yeah you could say that.” You trailed off.

“Have you been here at my car this whole time?” She was frowning as she watched his car pull out of the driveway and make its way down the street.

“Mhmm. So about your car…” you said clearing your throat, looking at her with a guilty expression.

Her frown disappeared and she looked at her suspiciously “You didn’t.”

“Oh we did.”

“Yeah right.” She said waving you off with a small laugh. When you didn’t say anything her smile faded “Your kidding. No? Not kidding.”

You shook your head and held back a giggle as her mouth fell open “Are you fucking kidding me? You climbed that tree? IN MY CAR?” She peered in the back to see the seats folded and her blanket spread across the cargo hold.

You blew out a long breath that ended in a laugh “After we skinny dipped.”

She gasped and clutched her heart, gripping your arm “This is the best day of my life. Is it everything I think it was? Did it live up to the dirty talk?”

“It did. Good call on that blanket by the way.”

“That’s my girl! Up top!” She grabbed your hand and slapped her own with it she grabbed your face and kissed you on the cheek. She swung an arm over your shoulder and reached in her pocket, pulling out the half smoked joint and waggled her eyebrows.

“Round two?”

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sweetkpopmusings · 6 months ago

Text

stray kids soulmate aus | y. jeongin <3

a/n: oh gosh, don't even get me started on how much i love jeongin :,-((( he has such a special place in my heart, so i hope my fellow innie girls appreciate this au as much as i do <333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 2k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!jeongin x gn!reader | requests: open

a soulmate mark appears on your body the first time you and your soulmate touch.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

jeongin wasn’t one to dwell much on when he’d meet his soulmate. he was happy with his life exactly as it was, and, unlike a lot of people, he lacked anything that hinted to when, where, or how he would meet his person. jeongin decided, that rather than falling into an existential crisis, he’d keep his thoughts glued to the present moment. everything would fall into place eventually. jeongin trusted that.

you, on the other hand, weren’t always so secure in the ambiguity of it all. lately, it seemed as though all of your friends were meeting their soulmates. you were happy for them, but the question of when is it my turn? nagged the back of your mind more often than you’d like to admit. you confided in your best friend one night about all of this, and, despite their lovestruck state after just meeting their person, they understood your feelings perfectly. everyone who knew you knew that you had a lot to offer, and they all wanted you to find someone who would tend to your heart like you deserved.

“i know there’s no way to force this kind of thing, but maybe…” your best friend trailed off, clearly considering their suggestion again before vocalizing it.

“at this point, i don’t think any idea is a bad idea,” you sighed.”

“what if you tried going on blind dates?”

“okay, i think we managed to find the one bad idea.”

your best friend laughed at your scowl, “i know, i know. no one wants to go on a blind date when we’re itching to be with our soulmate. but, if you didn’t want to feel like you’re twiddling your thumbs, maybe meeting new people could increase your chances of meeting your person sooner?”

you had to give it to them. their logic checked out. logic did not equal appeal though, so you gave them a “maybe” and a promise to let them set up the first blind date if it came to that. understanding the shift in tone, your friend changed the subject to your current content obsession. you let out a deep breath, happy to focus on something other than your incessant, endless longing to know who you were destined to be with.

a few days passed before you gave proper thought to the whole blind date suggestion. during your break, you sat in a plaza outside your office building, mind wandering with the background buzz of businesspeople.

going on a string of blind dates seemed like a cinematic nightmare, with no guarantee that you’d meet your soulmate that way. then, there was the chance that this could expedite the process. you had to admit that, if going on some bad blind dates ultimately led to discovering who your soulmate was, then the risk could outweigh the benefits. were you really that desperate though? it didn’t feel great to be one of the few people you knew without your soulmate, but wouldn’t it feel worse to be the only one dating?

“excuse me, do you have a pen i could borrow?”

you frowned slightly at a stranger’s voice breaking your train of thought. that frown melted away, however, when you saw arguably the most attractive person standing in front of you. their golden hair fell in soft waves, accentuating the sharp features of their face. when you were caught in the gaze of their bubbly, brown eyes, you couldn’t fight the butterflies in your stomach.

“oh…i think i have one in my bag,” you answered, turning your face away from the beautiful stranger.

“it’s okay if you don’t!”

their voice was like wind chimes on a perfect spring day, so you prayed that you had a pen. that was a surefire way to hear them speak again.

“ah, here it is!” you smiled and held the pen out.

they grinned, “thank you! i–AH!”

the pen bounced between both of their hands several times before landing on the ground between you two. you laughed at both the comical scene and the frustrated scream they let out.

you leaned forward to grab the pen, jumping slightly when their hand brushed against yours. inhaling, you willed the bolts of lightning in your veins to fade quickly. you couldn’t handle embarrassing yourself in front of someone this cute.

with a sheepish chuckle, they picked up the pen, “i’ll bring this right back to you.”

you shook your head, still trying to regulate your heartbeat, “no, it’s okay! you can keep it.”

their eyes went wide, and you swore you saw them sparkle in the sunlight, “oh! thank you!”

you giggled at their response and again when they offered an awkward goodbye wave at the same time you did. once they turned their back, you bit your lip in a failed attempt to hide the huge smile on your face. that smile faded once you realized you had given away your favorite pen.

by the time your break was over, you made peace with the fact you’d never see that pen again. it was almost out of ink anyway, so maybe this was a sign you should finally buy a new one. you entered your office, sighing for a multitude of reasons.

the rest of the workday passed, and you grew excited at the prospect of returning home. perhaps you would stop at a stationery store on your way back to replace the pen you lost. while you mentally ran through the list of store options, your coworker leaned over your desk.

“hey, y/n! since when do you have a soulmate mark?”

you blinked a few times in confusion, “a what?”

your coworker pointed to the side of your hand, “that, right there! it’s a soulmate mark, isn’t it?”

you lifted your hand to your face, unsure of what to expect. somehow, you had failed to notice the bluish-purple blotch on the side of your hand.

“i don’t know. maybe it’s just a bruise?”

you glanced up at your coworker, hoping they could provide some insight into the discovery they made. they shook their head vehemently.

“my cousin got one of those on her shoulder last year. it turns out the woman who bumped into her on the train was her soulmate. i swear, yours looks almost exactly like hers. just smaller,” they focused their eyes on your hand again, making you feel a little self-conscious, “yeah, that’s definitely a soulmate mark. how exciting!”

you ran your fingers over the discolored area, “huh, yeah, i guess so…”

not wanting to continue the conversation, you offered them a polite smile. when they asked you to keep them updated, you promised to, even though you had no idea when that mark appeared on your hand, much less who had touched you to cause it.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“wait…so why did you end up running three blocks to get a pen?” jisung furrowed his brow.

jeongin huffed after taking a big bite of food. it always amazed him how many times he’d have to explain stories like this.

“hyunjin’s pen broke,” jeongin pointed to hyunjin with his spoon, “he was having a breakdown because he was feeling so inspired at the café and was going to ‘lose the vision’ if he couldn’t finish his sketches. i wanted to have my drink in peace, so i offered to find a pen. it turns out, in this day and age, someone having a pen on them is rarer than a conversation without changbin flirting.”

hyunjin wrapped his arms around jeongin, “innie, you’re my hero!”

jeongin pushed him away, but hyunjin kept at it, “you saved the drawing. i don’t know how you did it, but you found the perfect pen.”

“that’s our innie! perfect as always!” jisung added in a baby voice.

jeongin groaned, swatting hyunjin away while reaching for more food. when seungmin started talking about a new game, he thought he was finally free from the attention. that dream was shattered when felix spoke.

“jeongin? what happened to your hand?”

jeongin lifted both hands to his face, unable to see anything at first. then, he saw a blue and purple mark on the side of his right hand.

“i guessed i bruised it,” he shrugged.

“no way!” chan squealed, “that’s a soulmate mark! our innie met his soulmate!”

everyone cheered about how he grew up so fast! and jeongin reassured them that it wasn’t possible. the only people who touched him today were his members, who, thankfully, were not his romantic soulmates.

hunger took over, so everyone returned to their food. in the quiet, something clicked inside jeongin’s head.

“ah! i know who it is!”

his seven members whipped their heads in his direction, perfectly synchronized.

“it was the pen person!”

hyunjin gasped, “oh my god! this is amazing! were they pretty?”

“why is that your first question?”

minho laughed, “they must be gorgeous. look at how red jeongin’s ears are.”

jeongin waved his hand in the air to dispel the subject. deep down, he appreciated their excitement–they never ceased to amuse him–but their energy didn’t exactly help him figure out how he was going to find you again.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

the fresh air that hit you the second you stepped out of the office building instantly refreshed you. you stretched your arms, gazing around the area to find the perfect spot to enjoy your break. you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the gorgeous pen person sitting exactly where you sat yesterday.

it had to be a dream, right? what’re the chances that you’d see them again?

you only realized what the chances were when you caught yourself unconsciously rubbing the bruise-like mark on the side of your hand.

the way you saw it, you had two options. one, you could avoid that spot because you didn’t feel prepared to interact with a person who is downright statuesque during your break today. or, two, you could be brave and meet your soulmate, for real this time.

you took a deep breath and walked forward. the risk of being awkward in the presence of a beautiful person now was way lower than the risk of awkward blind dates, and you had almost convinced yourself to do the latter.

jeongin, twirling the fateful pen and staring off into space, almost missed you walking by. at the last second, he looked up, thrilled to see you again. he felt his heart pound as he spoke.

“hi! excuse me?” jeongin offered you a smile and a small wave, “i don’t know if you remember, but you gave me your pen yesterday. i think we might be soulmates, so i wanted to see you again to confirm it. if we’re not soulmates, i wanted to compliment your taste in pens.”

how you stayed standing at that moment was beyond you. everything from his gaze, his smile, to his voice had you out of breath and knees weak. his confidence was astounding. while this was a bold move, you respected that he wasn’t going to waste any time waiting and wondering.

“hi! yes, i remember you,” you returned his smile, feeling butterflies when you noticed him blush, “i’m glad you like the pen. i’m y/n.”

unsure of how the soulmate mark thing worked, you offered your hand, which he naturally took into his for a handshake.

“i’m jeongin.”

you two looked down at your hands. like magic, the bruises faded away into flowers. on your hand was the outline of a violet. you understood the meaning once you saw that jeongin’s hand held an etching of your birth flower.

“well,” jeongin chuckled, “i guess that confirms things then.”

“yeah, i guess so,” you agreed, still holding onto his hand.

before the silence turned awkward, jeongin adjusted your hands from their handshake position so they were comfortably intertwined, “are you on a break right now? i’d love to buy you a replacement pen if you have the time.”

you nodded, not fighting the way your smile beamed when you looked at jeongin, “for a new pen, i have all the time in the world.”

with a charmed laugh, jeongin led you to his preferred stationery store around the corner, tracing the flower on your skin with his pinky finger. it used to feel like you were waiting an eternity to meet your soulmate, but now, with jeongin by your side, you understood forever better than you ever had before.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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the-newlymadeweeb · 1 year ago

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I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fic rec #pjo fandom #pjo fanfic #percy jackson #luke castellan #annabeth chase #lc

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folklaur21 · 10 months ago

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What would've should've been

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't truly know what love felt like until he found you. But now all he can do is sit and imagine what should've been.

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Battle of Hogwarts, use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

Before You

Theodore Nott isn't the happiest person in the world. Scratch that, he might be the most subdued, emotionally complex guy to have ever existed. Hardly anything made him smile, next to nothing made him laugh. That's just how he was, is, and how he will always be.

It isn't completely his fault. People are never born 'sad' or 'emotionless'. Theo was brought up this way. It was ingrained into him as a child, silently impacting his life forever, and he didn't even realise it. Well, that was until his mother died. At the hands of his father.

Theodore's mother was a gentle soul. Sweet and caring, she always looked after her son. She gave him everything a child needed, wanted, and then some. The one thing she couldn't provide for Theo? A stable father, who wasn't an alcoholic, abusive pig. Though she did try, the fear she had of Theodore's father never ceased throughout their marriage. She just had to try to shelter Theodore from this cold, uncaring lifestyle.

She could only protect her son so much. When Theodore was just nine years old, she couldn't take the abuse from his father anymore. So she tried to escape. From her house, from her husband, from her life. Yet she failed. And he found out. Theodore Nott Sr. was not happy with this. So he did the only thing that he thought could ease his troubles. He killed his wife. The mother of his child. The child that had heard the Unforgiveable Curse uttered from his father's lips. The child who watched the flash of green light emitted from his father's wand. The child who had to watch his own mother, the only person who truly cared for him, die.

When he started Hogwarts, Theodore wanted a somewhat fresh start. Free from the burdens of his home life, he made friends.(Arguably, they were friends who his father would have approved of. If his father even cared.) At school, Theodore worked hard, and tried to mask the emotions he had always been told to oppress. Anger. Hatred. Vulnerability. So none of his friends truly knew what his life was like. Except for Lorenzo.

Theo told Enzo Berkshire everything. It was easier, having someone understand why you were like you were. Someone who you trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets. Someone who cared about you. That's how the two became best friends. Practically inseparable, 24/7.

During You

Having a connection with someone was something Theodore didn't truly seek throughout his lifetime. Especially now, in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Apart from Enzo, he was fine with keeping to himself, keeping a low profile and staying out of everyone's way. That was, until he saw you.

"Enzo, I don't want to go."

"Please, Theo, I want you to come. I'll be lonely without you." Enzo pleaded with his friend.

"I don't want to go to the Yule Ball. And besides, I didn't ask anyone to go with me." Theodore replied, still resisting the idea.

"So? No-one really cares if you're with someone or not. It's supposed to be fun." Enzo says with a sigh as he flops down next to Theo on his bed.

Theo scoffs. "Says you! How many girls asked you to go with them? 15?"

Lorenzo turns slightly pink at his friend's comment. "23..."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exactly," Theo says, but after a moment he decides, "I will go to the ball with you Enz. Only because it's that, or sit around here or in the common room with all the first years."

So, that was how he ended up standing at the side of the Great Hall, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice, and watching all of his friends dancing with whoever they brought to the Ball. Theo didn't really mind. Once again, he was merely waiting in the wings, not really expecting anything grand to happen to him. At least, that's what he thought would happen. Until he saw you.

You were with some of your friends on the dancefloor. Laughing and smiling, you were carefree, living your life to it's full potential. Theo couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. It's not like you would have seen him anyway, with him lurking in the shadows.

After he had spent what felt like forever watching you, Enzo came to his friend's side, offering a new glass of pumpkin juice, which Theo gladly accepted.

"Who's that?" Theo asked his friend, nodding his head in your direction.

"That's Y/N. Y/L/N I think. She's in Ravenclaw. She's actually quite clever, I sat next to her in arithmancy last year." Enzo pauses for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Theo shrugs, nonchalant. "I just... don't remember seeing her before, that's all."

"Oh. Well, she's really kind. And sweet." Enzo smiles before rushing of again to resume dancing, leaving Theo to mull over his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

A week later, whilst sat in Potions, Theodore couldn't help but watch you, sitting across from him in the classroom. Strange. He had never noticed you before, but now it seemed you were the only thing plaguing his mind. He hardly took any notice of Professor Snape that lesson, watching you as you took notes with your brow furrowed, and how you twirled your quill around in your fingertips if you seemed distracted.

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott grew to know lots about you, even if you didn't yet realise it. He knew your favourite subject (Charms), your favourite sweets from Honeydukes (Chocolate Frogs, because you collected the cards). He even knew how you liked to spend your Sundays (sat in the courtyard with a book and a hot chocolate). Theo was drawn to you, for some unknown reason, and not even he could figure out why.

In the weeks leading up to your exams, you spent an increasing amount of time in the library, studying. Funnily enough, so did Theodore. He wanted to do well academically, even if his friends preferred skiving off and messing with first years. So, that was how he came to speak to you for the first time, five whole months after he was first captivated by you.

"Can I sit here? All the other tables are either occupied or slightly sticky and I don't want to mess up my books"

"Uhh, sure!" Theodore said, shocked that you had even come over to him. "No," he told himself. "She's only over here because nowhere else was free. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You smile at him, and wave your wand to get your books laid out on the desk in front of you.

"Theodore. But you can call me Theo." Theodore said, as he found himself smiling in return.

The two of you started to talk about anything and everything; school, exams, your hobbies, interests, just your lives in general. And that's how Theo realised that, maybe he wasn't such a cold, uncaring teenager after all.

A week or so later, the two of you were sat under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Black Lake, studying for, you guessed it, exams. That moment was when Theo finally plucked up enough courage to ask you something.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"What?" you replied, looking up from your book.

"I was wondering, would you maybe like to, and it's OK if you don't, I don't mind, you don't have to say yes or anything because it's completely your choice-"

"Spit it out, Theo!" you giggled, humoured by his rambling.

"Right. Sorry." Theo said, trying to calm himself down. "Umm, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? And could we possibly go to the Three Broomsticks? You know, just... us?"

Your eyes widened, before you smiled at the boy's worried expression. "Of course! Theo I'd love to."

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before returning to your book, leaving Theodore grinning as if he'd just won the lottery. Which, with you, he basically had.

After You

It had been a while since Theodore Nott had been back at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten the Dark Mark, at his father's force, he had stayed working for The Dark Lord, being a Death Eater. He hated it. It was a life his father had forced him into, a life which wasn't truly his. And now he was back at the one place which had been a home to him, but now he was here to destroy it.

Theo tried to look for you. The one person who he trusted, and the one person who trusted him. Theo wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to kill. He couldn't do that here. His safe place, where his father couldn't physically torture him. Where you were.

Before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Theo was held under the Imperius curse by his father, and the searing skull tattoo, the tattoo that would hurt him forever, was imprinted into his left arm. When school started again, he couldn't bear to tell you, his girlfriend, what had happened. But he did, because between you two, there were no secrets. When you found out, all you were was supportive. You helped Theo though his pain and anguish, but what he didn't know is that when you first found out, you cried for hours. Crying about his future, your future, angry at the world you live in for being so cruel. Crying was really the only thing you could do.

After Dumbledore's death, Theodore did what he thought would be best for your relationship, best for you.

"You can't be serious, Theodore?" you said, trying to keep your voice levelled and clear, holding back the tears.

That hurt Theo. You never called him Theodore, unless you were really frustrated. Which hadn't happened until now. "Y/N please, I have to, it's for your safety."

"My SAFETY? Theo, I couldn't care less about that right now. Please, don't do this." You couldn't hold back any longer. The tears were now streaming down your face.

"I don't want to, but-"

"But what, Theo? I love you!"

"I love you too, but-"

"Then surely that's all that matter?" you say, exasperated. "We love each other. We can run away together, and live in hiding until it's safe for us to come out, to be together."

"No, we can't, you know we can't, we'll be found and then... you'd... You'd be killed." Theo says in a small voice. "And I can't let that happen to you. Please, Y/N, just listen to me. As soon as this is over, we can get back together. We can live together, start over together. But it can't happen now. Not yet. Please, Y/N, wait for me."

You can't stop crying now, and you lean over to Theo and kiss him. "OK. When it's all over. I'll be waiting for you, Theo. You'll definitely come back to me?"

"Of course I will, Y/N. I promise I'll find you."

And of course, that's what he was currently doing. Looking for you. He had been waiting a year to see your face again, hoping you hadn't forgotten about him. However now he couldn't find you. Running through the corridors, shouting you name, dodging curses and rubble, Theo's only goal was to find you. And he did.

There you were at the top of the Astronomy tower, a split lip and wearing a torn blue jumper, you were aiming all sorts of hexes at a Death Eater. Theo was so relieved, and began firing spells at your opponent, until he was knocked unconscious. At that point, Theo kicked the limp body over the balcony, not caring what would happen.

"Y/N." Theo smiled. "I told you I'd come back."

You pulled Theo into a hug and kissed him. "Theo!" you breathed.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N." All Theo could do was look into your bright, tearful eyes, relieved that he could see you once again before-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

That fateful curse.

A flash of green light.

Your body fell limp in Theo's arms.

Your eyes lost their brightness.

"NO!"

Theo tried to pull you up, tried to hold you tight, but it was no use. You were gone. Theo looked up to see your murderer, looking him in the eyes. His father.

Your death at the hands of Nott Sr. ensured Nott Sr.'s death at the hands of his son. That was the first and last time that Theodore Nott would ever use the killing curse, and it only made sense for it to be on the person that used it on the two people who he had loved most in the world.

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, most of Voldemort's supporters were dead, captured, or had fled the scene when it was evident that they were losing. But two Death Eaters stayed behind, simply because they couldn't bear to leave the castle like this. They felt it was partly their fault. Those two Death Eaters were Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire.

Whilst everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Enzo wandered the, now ruined, corridors of a place he loved so dearly. What he didn't expect to find his best friend, leaning on the crumbled wall of the Astronomy tower, cradling someone in his arms. Not to mention the fact that his father lay on the ground mere feet away.

"Please, Y/N, you can't be dead, you can't. I came back for you I-"

"Theo?" Enzo inquired, sitting on the floor next to his best friend, who was in fits of tears.

"He killed her, Enz. He killed her so- So I killed him. I had to."

"It's OK, Theo." Enzo replied, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, and letting him cry.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, with the sound of everyone in the castle talking and grieving the loss of friends and family. The two could have been down there with them, celebrating the demise of the people who made their lives hell.

But instead, all Theodore Nott could think about is what should've been.

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