#the eyes actually took like twenty attempts somehow

[sierradee]

Cognitive dissonance who? The fact he can cast speak with animals. I stand with Seal Gaiman.

My manuscript illustration is taking longer than expected with my rabbit-holing into details, but I’ve enjoyed doing a drawing a day, so enjoy this comic of Egbert containing multitudes.

#oxventure #oxboxtra #fanart #egbert the careless #seal gaiman #mini comic #that beautiful face #the eyes actually took like twenty attempts somehow #sierradeedidit

[the-oblivious-writer]

After The Storm |One-shot (1)|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Woman!Reader

One-shot One: Vigilantes & Branzino

Summary: Tara invites you over for dinner in hopes you and Sam could get off on the right foot. But of course, things don't go her way

Warning(s): Swearing, police!Sam, & vigilante slander (?)

Notes: Here's that one-shot I promised and for quick background context the other people at the table during dinner are: Mindy, Chad, Anika and Quinn

Masterlist

“Hi.” You heard out of the blue; you looked up from your book to find Tara looking at you as you took out your headphones.

“Hi,” you replied with a small smile.

“Do you like branzino?” She randomly asked. You furrowed your eyebrows a bit, tilting your head as you looked a little confused. 

“You know, like a fish?” 

“Mhm, no, no,” you let out a small chuckle, “I know. I know,” you shrugged. 

“Well, if you want, you can come to this address at eight o’ clock?” She proposed as she wrote something down on a piece of paper, soon handing it to you. 

“My roommate, Quinn, is making branzino. She’s been testing out these, like, new recipes and stuff and tonight is branzino night so, yeah…that was a lot of unnecessary information, sorry,” Tara let out an embarrassed laugh as you only looked at her with fondness.

“Don’t be, I like hearing your voice,” you told her genuinely, now looking down at the piece of paper. Tara looked away as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. She looked back at you as she wore a bright smile.

“Oh, and it’s apartment twenty sixteen…I didn’t write that part down—I don’t know why I didn’t,” she said, growing a bit flustered. 

“I’ll remember it,” you told her, looking up from the paper and at her.

“Okay…” Suddenly she could hear her name being called from a few feet away. She looked over to see Chad, Mindy and Anika, waving at her. She waved back before looking back at you. 

“I gotta go but, uh, twenty sixteen!” She called out as she walked over to her friends.

You responded by tapping your temple with your index finger, looking at her for a couple more seconds before you continued reading. 

—

Tara was sitting on her bed, looking at her laptop when she heard soft knocks on her window. She looks up from her laptop to find you on her fire escape. A smile grazes her face as she puts down her laptop and goes to her window to open it. 

“Hi,” she greeted after sliding the window up. You reply with a loving grin and Tara can’t help but giggle. “How did you get out there?”

“Uh, fire escape. Your doorman’s intimidating,” you responded as you came inside the room.

“It’s twenty stories.” 

You looked at her for a couple seconds before saying, “Yeah..”

You were now fully in her room, standing in front of her. You looked around and wore a smile; the room felt like Tara. “So this is your room?”

“Yes, this is my room,” Tara answered, looking at you as your eyes wandered the room.

“Of course…it’s yours,” you add, pulling a laugh from the younger Carpenter.

“Oh hey, uh, I got your sister, uh, these,” you told her as you took off your backpack and took out a bouquet of flowers. Well…if they even still qualify as such.

Tara saw you take out the damaged bouquet; the flowers were bent, each one going in different directions, and pedals were clearly missing. But you somehow still made them beautiful to her.

“Oh—oh lovely.”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful right?”

“They’re beautiful.”

“They—they were nice,” you spoke before raising the bouquet to cover your face in a poor attempt to hide the embarrassed smile you wore.

“No, they’re beautiful,” she said as she looked at your embarrassed state.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized under the flowers. 

“No, it’s impressive. They actually held together very well,” Tara nodded as she spoke, trying not to laugh any more. 

“I’m gonna keep these…” Tara let out a short laugh, giving you a smile that you’ve grown to admire so much.

As you put the flowers back in your back, you heard Tara speak again. “Do you have your suit?” She asked, catching you off guard. Suit? Did she see it?

You instantly lift your head up, looking at her. “My suit?”

“It’s for dinner… Are—are you gonna wear that? A dress is fine too—” Just then the door opens and Sam's voice could be heard.

“Hey, Tar,” Sam's expression changes when her eyes meet you, clearly not expecting you to be in Tara’s room. Tara’s eyes go wide and your mouth is slightly open as you both look at the police captain. 

She makes a couple steps forward before finally saying, “You must be Y/N.”

“Sam, this is Y/N.” Tara looks over at you, silently begging you to say something.

You hesitantly look at Tara then back at Sam, not sure if you’re reading the singles right. “Hey, nice to meet you ma’am,” you finally said as you walked over to Sam with your hand raised. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam responded as she shook your hand, voice lacking enthusiasm. You ignored the look she gave, only responding with a short yet soft smile.

“Dinner’s ready,” the police captain informed, “hope you like branzino.”

“Who doesn’t?”

—

You awkwardly poke at the fish with your knife, not really sure where you were even supposed to be cutting; how the hell were you supposed to do this? 

Anika looked over at you as you struggled to figure it out. “You're having trouble there, aren’t you; the head goes on the other—Chad, help Tara’s friend with her fish,” she said, causing you to grow even shyer. 

“Oh, I uh, I have no idea” you awkwardly chuckle, putting a timid on your chest.

“First time,” Chad said with a single nod as he began to cut your fish.

“Branzino,” you heard Tara whisper at you from across the table

“Hey, Sam, did you catch that spider chick yet?” Mindy inquired, you slowly lifted your gaze and averted it to the police captain who sat by you.

“No, we haven't caught her yet. But we will. She’s an amature who’s assaulting civilians in the dead of night, she’s clumsy, she leaves clues, but still dangerous.” After you swallow the bite you took of your fish, you look at her deep in thought.

“She’s assaulting—she’s assaulting people,” you say, as if absolutely stunned by the accusation—in a way you were. 

Sam slightly furrowed her eyebrows at you but before she could get a word out, you continued. “I mean, I saw that video,” you do a slight nod, “with—with her and the car thief.” Tara watched as she knew what was about to unfold, taking a deep breath in and out.

“And—and I think most people would say she was…providing a public service.”

“Most people would be wrong,” Sam responded with certainty in her voice, “If I wanted the car thief off the street, he’d already be off the street.” 

“So why wasn’t he then?” You asked, coming off as more of a smart ass than intended. Tara let out an awkward laugh as she felt the tension thicken with your response. 

“Let me illuminate, you see, the car thief was leading us to the people who run the entire operation. It's been a six month long sting. It’s called strategy—I’m sure you’re aware of the term strategy? You’ve probably heard about that in school?” 

You nodded along to the police captain’s words before answering with a quiet, “Yeah.”

Tara looked over at Quinn with a look that read “You’re kidding me, right?” Quinn tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Well, obviously she didn’t know you had a plan,” you suddenly add before taking another bite of the branzino.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this case; you know something we don’t know? I mean, whose side are you on here?” Sam’s voice slightly raised as she spoke. 

“No, I’m not on anyone’s side; I saw a video on the internet–”

“Oh, you saw a video on the internet. Well, then the case is closed.”

Tara ran her hands down her face as Chad and Mindy watched with amused expressions.

“Well, no I’m just sayin’ that if you watch the video—maybe I can send you a link. It looks like—it looks like,” Sam slightly raised her hand to you, not wanting to hear anymore of this. “She’s really trying to help you.”

“Yeah, sure on the internet she must be made to look like some sort of masked hero or something.”

“No, no, no, I’m not saying she’s a hero, I don’t think she’s a hero at all–”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying she’s tryna’ help, but it looks like she’s trying to do something maybe the police can’t.”

“Something the police can’t?” Sam’s expression somehow grew even more frustrated.

“I don’t know.” You responded, hiding behind bites of your branzino.

“What do you think we do all day? You think we just sit around, eating donuts, with our thumbs planted firmly up our asses?”

“Sammy,” Tara sighed, putting down her utensils. Quinn gave Sam an unimpressed look as she said, “Sam,” in a firm tone. 

“Up your what, Sam?” Mindy asked, earning her a light slap to the shoulder from Anika as Chad did a terrible job of containing his laughter.

“I think she stands for what you stand for, ma’am,” you finally say. “Protecting innocent people from bad guys.”

“I stand for law and order, kid. That’s what I stand for, okay? I wear a badge; this chick wears a mask like a—like an outlaw. She’s hunting down a bunch of criminals that all look the same, like she’s got some personal vendetta. But she’s not protecting innocent people, Ms. Y/L/N.” Sam’s words came crashing down with each one she spoke.

Suddenly, Tara puts her fork back down and pushes her chair back to stand up. “Let's get some air, Y/N.” You mentally curse yourself for screwing up dinner.

“Sam, we need to talk.”

“Yes we do,” Sam replied before taking a sip from her glass.

“Thank you for having me. I’m sorry if I insulted you—it was not my intention,” you apologized before getting up from your seat.

“You're welcome.” Sam replied before harshly placing down her cup.  

“The branzino was really good, thank you,” you complimented, earning a smile from Quinn. “You're welcome,” you heard Quinn say as you walked away from the table, following Tara to wherever she was leading you.

—

Your hands were in your pocket as you followed Tara closer out on the roof. “Well that was something,” Tara finally spoke, earning a timid chuckle from you. 

“Sorry…you know I thought she was gonna arrest me at one point?” You both looked over the edge, looking at the city streets below you.

“Nah, I wouldn’t let her arrest you.”

You quietly sigh, leaning forward and resting your forehead. Tara looks at you, thinking to herself before asking, “What happened to your face?”

“I wanna tell you something,” you immediately reply.

“Oh,” Tara lightly laughed. “Okay.”

You both turned and faced each other, now getting to admire the other’s eyes. You exhaled, struggling to muster the right words to tell her. How do you tell the woman of your dreams you’re Spider-Woman?

“I’ve been bitten.”

Tara couldn’t help the love struck smile that grew on her face as she softly responded, “So have I…”

Once you realized what she meant you let out a light, “Oh,” and smiled. She slowly leaned closer and you did the same but stopped yourself once you remembered what you were doing. 

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay—I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell this one thing, I gotta tell you this one thing, and it’s about the—the vigilante and the car thief, alright?” Tara’s expression turned to disappointment; the conversation wasn’t exactly what she had hoped it would be.

“Oh, okay,” Tara backed away a bit.

You slightly furrowed your eyebrows at her. “No, no, no, no, no,” you repeatedly said as you shook your head and waved your hand. “No, no, don’t–”

“Okay.”

“Okay, no. Forget that. I’m not gonna talk about that. I’m gonna talk about me, okay?”

“What about you?”

“It’s… I wish I could just,” you gestured to your mouth with your hands, “I can’t. It’s hard to say.”

“Just say it,” Tara said, giving you a comforting look. 

“No, no, no, no…” You turned over, leaning to look over the edge.

“Just say it…”

You only responded with a deep exhale, not being able to spit out the words.

“What?” Tara leaned over to you, and you turned your head to look at her before shaking your head and turning back. 

Tara lightly rolled her eyes, “Nothing, forget it,” she let out defeatedly as she began to walk away. 

In a split second decision, you impulsively shot a web at Tara and pulled her back to you. She landed in your arms, holding onto them as one hand held onto her waist and the other reached up to her neck. 

She looked at you with a stunned expression but before she could get a word out, you softly pulled her in by the back of her neck and your lips made contact. Your other hand reaches up from her waist to cup her jaw. You both melted into the kiss as it grew deeper and deeper with each second. 

You both pulled away to catch your breath. “You’re–” 

“Shut. Up.” You interrupted before pulling her back into the kiss. 

Tara smiled into that kiss and held onto your collar, pulling you in as close as she could. Your hands moved down to her waist as her other hand moved to wrap around your neck, pulling you in more.

“Tara?” Somebody called out, but you both were too distracted to notice.

“Tara–” You both finally heard, pulling away as Mindy stood at the rooftop door.

“Uh, Sam wants you to come inside—right away.”

“Okay…”

Mindy looked over at Tara when she realized she hadn’t moved at all, “Tara, come on. You can make out later.”

Tara rolled her eyes as she felt her cheeks heat up. “I’m coming,” Tara sighed, moving away from the rooftop’s ledge as Mindy went back inside. 

Tara and you shared a single look before she let out a laugh of disbelief, clearly not expecting this to be the night she finds out you’re Spider-Woman—or any night for that matter. 

You start to follow her when suddenly your senses go off, causing you to turn to your right and look out at the city. A city that needs you.

Tara stopped and turned when she realized you were no longer following her. She saw you looking out at the city as police sirens rang. You took a few steps as your eyes never pulled away from ahead of you. Then suddenly, you jumped off the roof as if it were nothing. 

Tara lightly shook her head as she watched this.

“Oh, I’m in trouble…”

-----------

A/N: The way I genuinely laughed when Pete said he'd send Captain Stacy a link 😭

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x spider reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter x spider!reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #spider!reader #scream fanfic #after the storm au

[girl8890]

JK | Cabin in The Woods

word count: 6.7k

Summary: Everyone knows to stay out of the forest, but through a dare you ventured in… you just never came out. Meeting a wolf that says he needs you to survive, and you have no one else to give your love to but the animal that uses you every night.

Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Genre: yandere, supernatural!au, horror!au, smut, angst, some fluff (if you squint)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: bullying, disfiguration of body parts, breaking of bone, mate bonding, possessiveness, implied murder, blood, eating of people & living animals, implied/attempt at rape/non-con, vaginal sex, cream pie, cock warming, pussy sniffing & kissing, jk is horny for reader 99% of the time, kinda stockholm syndrome-ish, easily manipulated reader, dom!jk, sub!reader, lonely!reader

A/N: The best way I can explain this fic is that jk has actual wolf tendencies. He’s more wolf than man, so you’ll find that he relates more to a wolf in this fic than to his human half. I had a dream about this, probably should see a therapist, but here we’re instead! I hope you enjoy, my yandere lovers! 😌

。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。 。・°°・°°・。

You don’t know why you agreed to the dare. It was stupid to even think nothing would happen to you.

All you wanted was to make some friends, so when some people in your hometown asked you to come to their party, you were all for it. When you got to said party, it wasn’t what you were expecting. Everyone’s eyes were on you, and the peer pressure was to the max. Somehow a game of truth of dare started, and now your here—alone in the woods because you were one of the few daring people at that party.

You weren’t daring, though, and the dare wasn’t random. It was pointed at you by a couple of college kids that wanted to pick on the loner girl. You realized this after the hour in the haunted forest definitely went by, and no one came to save you.

North became south, and west became east. Any direction you pointed yourself in, you would find yourself trailing deeper and deeper into the woods where too many tourists and even a few locals never came out of.

You swore the forest was even playing tricks on you. Swearing that each tree looked the same, and the fog got thicker with each step you took. You didn’t stop your hurried walking, to try and get out of the forest as quickly as possible, until you heard a snap of a twig from behind you. Slowly turning your head, something you never thought in your twenty-two years of life you would ever see was standing right above you on a rock.

It was a wolf.

Not just any wolf. A snarling, big, yellow eyed, and black furred scary looking wolf that still had animal carcass from an earlier dinner hanging out of its mouth. And you had a feeling it wanted you for desert. You, for some reason, thought if you stayed still that it wouldn’t see you. Like all the movies about predators not being able to see their prey if it stayed still. Well, you very quickly realized this is not Jurassic Park and the wolf lunged at you.

You screamed, sliding somehow just out of the way from the wolfs attack, and then booked it. Running as fast as you can, and screaming as loud as you can. You claimed this day to be the worst one of your life because even as you ran like hell, the wolf still followed closely behind. Four big paws hitting the ground way faster then your two feet were.

You think you may have run a mile that day just trying to get away from the wolf. When you finally decided to look back and see the beast, you were finally able to skid to a stop when you see it’s not behind you. You breathe out a sigh of relief… but that relief didn’t last long.

Just as you turn back around, the same beast as before springs out of the shadows and tackles you to the ground. The beast hunted you. It made you think it left and had you let your guard down. Stupid mistake because now your done for. 

The beast growled in your face, and pinned your entire body to the ground. It’s sharp, huge teeth dripping with drool right on your face. This was it. This was going to be the end of your life, and you were going to be apart of the many that ventured into this forest and never came out.

Tears streamed down your face, and because you felt desperate you even begged the wild animal. “Please… I-I’m not ready to die.”

In that moment, you thought you even heard the wolf laugh. A heavy chuckle coming from its snot. But in that moment, when the beast was laughing at your pathetic pleads, it sniffed the air around you and then it’s pupils dilated. The wolf inhaled again, this time pressing its snout right against your neck, and making you shake with fear when you thought it was going to bite you.

There was a moment of silence, the wolf keeping its nose against your neck, and then it retracted it’s snout away from you. Everything happened so fast after that…

The sound of bone crunching was the first thing you heard, but it wasn’t your own. The creature above you backed away a messily bit, and it was only because the head of it was melting away. It’s then you realize it’s body was transforming into something you’ve never seen before. Body parts coming out of its skin, and constant sounds of broken bones snapping as each piece of the wolfs limbs melted away into one of… something else.

When the first limb that was being created out of the wolf became whole, you realize it was one of a persons. A man’s hand attached to a whole arm as each piece of him clicked together. It was a gruesome and slow process to watch. One that would of had you gagging if you weren’t so focused on the once wolf turning into a man.

When each bone finally clicked in place, a man that would of had you swooning by his looks alone any other day was kneeling above you. His hair was close to hitting his shoulders, and to the opposite of what you would expect from a creature like him, his skin was smooth to the touch except a singular small mole under his lip. His lips were pink, chapped, but plump and they were above a jaw line that most women would compliment as being sculpted from the gods.

It’s then, as more silence stretches on and you’re now staring into two brown eyes that were once yellow, that you put the pieces together of what creature us standing before you. Of what creature—this very muscular, and very naked, creature of a man has been doing in these woods too. Making countless people disappear, and having too many people afraid to even step foot into these wood because of it. Because of him.

“Werewolf,” You say at the same time the beast above you says, “Mate.”

And that was the day your life changed forever.

———

Nobody missed you. Nobody went out searching for you. You assumed everyone at the party thought you died, so that was the end of loner girl y/n. Probably didn’t even have a memorial like all the other forest disappearances.

You had no parents to worry about you. Your mom died over a year ago from complications, and eventually your father died soon after from a broken heart. No siblings or other close relatives to wonder about you, so you were stuck. Stuck in the woods with the only person—being, wolf, whatever—that actually showed he… cared?

You’ve be in a small cabin in the woods with him for three months now. It was a cabin that if an people passed by—not that they would venture in to the woods or get that close to begin with—wouldn’t think twice about it being abandoned and nothing worth exploring. But on the inside was everything a girl like you needed.

A somehow working bathroom, a small kitchen right in front of the door, and a queen sized bed (that’s more of a mattress on top of a old bed holder) that was pushed into the corner of the small cabin. With a blanket and two pillows on top of it. One pillow that ironically had a picture of a wolf sewed into the fabric of the pillow case. Everything a girl like you needed to survive was in this small space.

And everything the werwolf needed, Jungkook you found out his name was the day you met him, was you and what was in the last door of the cabin. The door that opened up to a set of steep stairs, and held nothing but a steal cage in the middle. That’s where he held you the first week you stayed here. Trapped and forced to endorse his ritual of claiming you as his. Teaching you how to be the perfect little submissive human to his dominate wolf.

He never took you as a an actual wolf luckily, but he did take you that first meeting in the woods. On the ground, with your clothes ripped apart, and you crying and screaming for him to stop. It wasn’t until he bit into your neck, forever claiming you as his mate, that it felt like your whole world shifted.

Suddenly it was like you could do nothing but submit to him. You still had resolve, though. And that’s why he kept you in the cage for so long. A week may not seem like much, but it did for you. Especially when he—allegedly—left you down there at night. He didn’t let you out until you promised never to leave, and after three months you’re still here.

You’re currently washing a dish in the small sink in the kitchen. You just ate lunch of what you assumed was rabbit, Jungkook being the one to hunt for yours and his food, and once your done with cleaning it you put it on a towel to dry. You look up from the sink at the same time Jungkook as a wolf came into view of the small window in the kitchen above the sink. You can see he’s holding in his mouth what looks to be a deer, and you grimace as you think about how he killed it.

You open the cabins front door when he gets close enough to the house, and move off to the side so the big wolf can squeeze himself into the house. Shutting the door behind him, he came in into the kitchen area and dropped the dead deer on the floor. You crotch onto the floor in front of what you presume to be dinner, and you aren’t scared of the wolf’s fangs as he continues to heave out breathes next to you.

You haven’t been scared of his wolf for a long time.

“Poor Bambi,” You say as you pet the deers snout. Earning a growl from Jungkook as you touch the dead deer so tenderly, and then he pushes his own snout in between your hand and the deer so you can then pet him. “Stupid wolf.”

You smile as the wolf laughs. A husky chuckle of a noise you remember used to confuse you when you heard it, but now you know it as him laughing in wolf form.

He then backs away from your hand after a few scratches, and you look away as he begins to transform into the man you were forced to love. The only person you love.

The sound of broken bone came from your right, but it wasn’t until you feel a human nose against you cheek that you turn to see a hairless faced Jungkook. His hair is still a bit long, but you convinced him to cut it a little shorter and even chop a part of it completely off. Making it look like he had a buzzed portion of a quarter of his hair. He’s currently naked, but you ignore that fact. Being very used to his naked form by now.

“Hello stupid wolf,” You say in greeting with a small smile, and you watch his own smile twitch up for a second. He then pushes his face forward, and you let your eyes drift shut when you know he’s about to take in your smell. Something he always does when going into human form and being in front of you.

He first presses his nose back onto your cheek, it wiggling a little as it touches you. Then he moves his nose to your own, and glides it next over your two eyes. Sniffing and inhaling every few seconds. It isn’t until he goes to your lips that you allow your eyes to open half-lidded.

Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but he senses you staring at him so he opens his own eyes. Two pools of brown looking back at you as he slowly presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you know his eyes are still open. It’s a small, barely any pressure type of kiss and you always think he’s doing it more for you then for him. He knows he doesn’t need to kiss you to earn your love, to own you, but he kisses you anyway.

After a moment of the soft pressure of his kiss to you, he detaches from your lips. You flutter your eyes open, and you hear a quiet growl rumble from his chest. Making your eyes flicker down to where you believe it sounded from.

“Hello… Y/n,” Jungkook says with a broken up voice. You think he’s never talked in his human form until he met you. At least not for a long time, so hearing his voice now is a rarity but you can’t help yourself and smile at him as he practices speaking.

“Yes, I’m y/n.” You press your hand to your chest. “And your Jungkook.” And then you press that same hand onto Jungkook’s naked chest right above his slowly beating heart.

You watch the corner of his lips twitch up again into a small smile, and you wonder what it would look like for him to actually smile. With teeth and all.

“Yes,” Jungkook says simply as he nods at you. He then takes his face away from so close to you, and aims his sights on the bite mark he left on you during the first day you met. You softly gasp when you feel his finger touch the surface of your neck. Gliding his fingers around the jagged teeth marks that will never go away. He then says with a mouth full of clenched sharp teeth, “Mine.”

And you’re his. He’s drilled it enough into your mind and body that you’re his. That he needs you to survive because a wolf without his mate is futile. Just like how your father died without your mother, Jungkook would die without you.

He may have brought up the situation in parts, and started this relationship in a terrible way, but he’s been alone and stuck in his wolf for a very long time. He didn’t know what “no” meant, and everything humans learned about consent and taking things slow into a relationship was nonexistent to him. So, he did what he does best when he wants something, he took it. Took you right there on the forest floor, and came deep inside you as he bit against your neck hard. Claiming you to him and his wolf forever.

Jungkook then slowly departs his finger from your neck, and wraps his arms around your arms and back. Your arms are sandwiched in between the two of you, and you’ve come to learn he likes to hold you this way. Having you safely protected in his arms, and he can easily bring his whole body on top of you so he can scent all of you at once. You pull your legs to your chest, knowing he’s going to scoop them up after he’s done sniffing your hair.

With one last whiff of your hair, he rubs his nose on top of your head. He then, just like you thought, scoops your legs up with one arm and supports your back with the other. Picking you up bridal style, and looking down at you as he caries you to the bed.

Your cradled and squished against him the whole ten steps there, but the whole way feels so safe. You would think a wolf like him that has such animal tendencies would be the worst place for you to be, but overtime you recognized it as the safest place for you. No one could touch you as long as your with him.

But that just means the big bad wolf would always have the ability to touch you.

———

Some time later, when your clothes are stripped off of you and your stomach is being pressed against the mattress, Jungkook drives his cock roughly into you from behind. It’s a rough, hard, and rocky affair every night. That’s right, every night.

The only times he doesn’t take you is when you’re on your period, and that’s because he hates the smell of blood on you. Keeping his distance and staying in wolf form the whole week, so he doesn’t temp himself in his human form.

Your hands are holding onto the front of the mattress in a tight grip, and his hands are clamped on top of yours as he continues to drive into you on repeat. Your moaning so loud it sounds like a scream, and each time you feel his hips press against you to go as deep inside you as possible you arch your back as a quivering sensation goes off in your stomach. Indicating you’re going to cum for the first time that night soon.

Jungkook grunts above you in a animistic way when he feels your pussy clench around his length. Making the teeth of his wolf elongate when his peek gets closer. His cock continues to drill into you at a fast pace as he brings his mouth down onto your neck. He doesn’t bite you, but he does apply a soft pressure of his teeth onto the bite mark he left there three months ago.

He doesn’t need to bite because he knows you know he already owns you. He owns your body, and he knows it so well by now that he doesn’t need to repeat the hurtful mark again. Just laying the sharp teeth across the ridges is enough of a reminder to what you are to him.

With a few more thrusts, banging his hips against your ass, your cumming along side him as he groans into your neck and you moan into the mattress. You lay there, heavy breathing going off from the both of you as your highs decrease. Jungkook takes his teeth off of you and then licks the surface of your neck. A little blood trickling down it since his orgasm was so harsh he bit down on you a little.

When he’s done cleaning your neck, whimpering a little to say sorry for making you bleed, he flips you over without pulling out of you and starts up his thrusts again. Caging your head and arms underneath him, with his arms holding himself above you next to your head. It’s like he didn’t just cum and reck your whole head space as he begins fucking you again. You expected this, though. It’s never just one round, not even two!

He continues to fuck you over and over again, placing you in new positions that keep you surrounded by his body after each time he cums deep within your clenching walls. Not a single time he’ll speak, either. Only you moaning and crying out your pleasure can be heard aside from his occasional grunt as he finishes inside of you. But the faces he makes are enough to have your mind going dirty besides doing the act itself.

When you get a chance to see his face, it’s so sexy it makes you clench around him. His mouth will be wide open in bliss, and his eyes squeezed shut. It looks like he can’t take how good you feel, but he still chases the feeling every time. Wanting to make you cum just as much as he wants to cum.

He fucks you so many times that it gets to the point tonight that you lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and as he was placing you sideways to thrust into you again you felt yourself drift into unconsciousness.

———

Waking up was a start. The sun was blaring from outside the window, and you blink your eyes open to see it. Your body wasn’t sore since it’s gotten used to how rough he is on you over the months you’ve been here, and you look down to see his arms wrapped around your naked middle. You bite your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way you could get out of his hold without waking the softly snoring Jungkook behind you.

As you wiggle in his grasp, staring to remove yourself from him gently, you realize there was no way to get up without him noticing. And that was because he’s still inside you. Still hard too, which was unexpected. You turn slightly around to see the handsome wolfs face, looking innocent as ever as he sleeps.

Softly, you reach out and cup his cheek with your hand. Trying to coax him awake with a few rubs of your palm. Instead of waking up, though, he rubs his face into your hand like a puppy. Wanting you to continue what you’re doing even as he sleeps. You hold back your laughter as Jungkook begs for your rubs, but you drop your hand altogether.

Instead of waking up from the lack of rubs, his face starts trying to find where the amazing sensation went. It isn’t until his nose gets buried in your hair, him sniffing up a big whiff of your small and gripping you a little tighter in his grasp, that he blinks his eyes open.

He pulls his face out of your hair, looking down at you like he didn’t realize it was for a second, but then the corners of his mouth are switching up when he sees it’s you he’s holding.

“Goodmorning,” You whisper to him with a smile. He hums his own version of saying good morning, then he wraps his other arm around your middle and pulls you flush again him.

You cry out when his cock that’s still inside you impalas you deeper, and then he letting go you altogether when he hears your cry. He must of not noticed he was inside you until now, gently taking his slowly softening cock out of you, and he looks at you frantic when he thinks he hurt you. Hovering his hands above your arms and looking strained as he tries to push out the word, “Hurt?”

You swallow, pulling yourself together as the rough pain to your dry pussy lessens, and you shake your head and smile again at him. “Nope, just surprised me.”

He looks at you unconvinced, and because he doesn’t know what boundaries mean, he pulls your legs apart and inspects you himself.

“Jungkook!” You scream as you try to cover your core from him. He’s scene it plenty of times, but besides to aim his cock at you he’s never directly looked at it before. He still pulls your hands away from you, pinning them against your one leg as he pulls your legs wide apart. Your beat red in the face and chest now as he just stares at your core so closely. “S-stop it.”

He looks up at you, and his eyes say more then any words can. Matching with his pointed frown, his big doe eyes look up at you saddened. Even though he’s been rough with you many times in the past, using you every night for his own pleasure even if he coaxes your own in the process, he hates the thought of you hurt. That’s also why he hates you bleeding because blood means hurting, and hurting means pain, which should never involve itself with his mate.

Looking back down at you pussy, he slowly places a singular kiss onto your slit. You clench your eyes shut at the press of his lips on you. And then your full on grunting when you feel and hear him smell your pussy up close. You know it’s just him saying “I’m sorry I hurt you,” since you taught him kisses could help when someone is hurt, and the smelling is so he can check that you’re not bleeding. But out of all things, your pussy should not be getting kissed and smelt this way!

After a few more embarrassed wiggles from you, Jungkook finally clears that you’re okay and lets you go. You pout at the wolf that looks confused at why you’re upset, and you roll out of bed. As you start getting changed, you hear the cracking of bone behind you. Within seconds Jungkook is back in his wolf form, and pressing his snout against your clothed back.

You sigh, turning around and looking down at the wolf who’s staring up at you so apologetically, and you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah you stupid wolf.”

You pet him in between the ears, now seeing a smile on the wolfs face and you return a human smile of your own. One with a lot less drool. Then you head for the door, stopping when you realize the deer from last night is still on the ground from last night and look an accusing eye at the beast who brought it here. Jungkook crocks his wolf head at you, not understanding the look you’re sending him.

“Did you really just leave that thing on the floor?” He looks to where you’re pointing, and his ears perk up. Walking up to the fly swarming carcass, instead of throwing it away or putting it in the fridge, he starts to eat it whole.

You grimace as you watch him a second too long, never getting use to seeing that happen in front of you, and then you head out the cabin to start your day.

Your day usually consists of tending to the small garden behind the cabin. It’s nothing incredible, but enough that you won’t be eating dead deer or rabbit everyday. A few tomatoes and cucumbers that you were able to syphon from plants near by, and TaDa! Your own personal garden.

Besides this garden, you don’t usually stray too far from the cabin. For one, even though the monster that haunts these woods lives with you, you’re too scared to find out what else could be found lurking in these woods. And two, anytime you accidentally travel too far from it, weather it be just to walk around or to try and find more seeds to grow, a huffing wolf named Jungkook will come and coax you back to the cabin. There’s been times he’s legit dragged you by your shirt to get home, but that’s just because you were so close to finding new seeds and you didn’t want to leave yet.

You know it’s all out of protection—and maybe still out of fear that you may leave him—but he likes having you close by enough to smell you. His wolf nose being able to track anything from a mile away, so that’s how far around the cabin you’re allowed to go before he loses scent of you. Stopping your wondering just before your scent crosses over that mile mark.

Today, after you put the veggies inside the fridge, you take one of the books that Jungkook “found” for you and go walking into the woods to find a place for you to sit. Just before you cross the tree line, you see on the opposite side of the clearing you’re in that Jungkook is walking into the woods too. Probably to go on a hunt or scoot the area even.

You walk for about a minute into the woods before you find a rock and a tree you can sit, and lean against. Opening up your book, you frown when see the small pool of blood on the title page. You try to ignore how it most likely got there, and keep flipping pages until you find the first page.

It’s just when you get to chapter two, that you hear a twig snap close by. You grin at the knowledge that it’s most likely Jungkook, and call out, “Come to read with me, stupid wolf?”

“No, but I would definitely like to do more then just read with you.”

You gasp, jumping up from your spot and dropping your book on the ground in the process when you hear a human voice that’s most definitely not Jungkook’s. It’s a man with long brown hair, a beard thats unkept, and one of his eyes looks screwed shut from loss of sight.

Your body starts shaking immediately. Since you’ve got here, you haven’t seen a single human. You always thought no humans were stupid enough to wonder into these woods—unlike you, but you were lucky enough to be the monsters mate and not die. You know not a single person is going to be that lucky if they come across a hungry Jungkook. Or just him in general!

“I-I, what are you doing here?”

The man raises a fluffy eyebrow at you, and you continue to stare at him wide eyed. “I just thought I would wonder these woods that so many claims is haunted. I just didn’t think I would find myself such a sexy specimen like yourself in here too.”

You swallow thickly at his sultry words, backing up from him as he starts to move forward. “Tell me, girly. Why are you out here all by yourself?”

“I-I’m with my boyfriend.” Your referring to Jungkook, but if this man some how got past him there’s no way he can save you if this man tries something. You watched Jungkook go the opposite way of you, so you have no idea how long it would take for him to rescue you even if you scream.

The man looks both ways, stopping in his tracks with you. “Don’t see no boyfriend.” The closed lip smile on the man’s face disappears. “But I am hungry.”

You open your eyes wide, and clutch onto the skirt of your dress. You look all around the area your in, thinking up the best route to get away from this man. “I-I don’t have any food. So you should p-probably go looking somewhere else.”

The man laughs, showing his blackened teeth as he does, and then he looks at you with a pair of disgusting eyes that only mean one thing. “Oh, darling… that’s not what I’m hungry for.”

Right when his words register to you, you run as fast as you can in the direction of the cabin. Your not far from it, and you can only hope that maybe Jungkook stopped his travels early and came home. You hear heavy footsteps behind you, and you’re suddenly aware of what this chase of cat and mouse reminds you of. The difference between that day with Jungkook and you and right now is that you thought Jungnkook was going to eat you. While the disgusting and vile man behind you doesn’t want to actually eat you, but taint and ruin your body. Ruin your soul, even.

You push forward as you spot the clearing up ahead. Dodging tree branch’s and jumping over rocks. Just when you’re about to step foot into the clearing of the cabin, a heavy body pins you to the ground. You cry out as the man that was chasing yous heavy weight falls on top of you. Screaming once again when you feel a hard erection press against your ass through his jeans.

He’s not as big as Jungkook—not that that was your main concern—but just knowing it’s there and not Jungkook’s has you starting to cry already.

“Oh, shut the fuck up you whore!” The man above you yells. Maneuvering himself so he can pin your arms against your back with his knee, and you hear the start of him unbuckling his pants and belt.

You think your done for. That you’re about to be ruined beyond repair from the man above you, and never want to face Jungkook again. Even though Jungkook did the same to you once all those months ago, there was still pleasure for you being brought to the table. It wasn’t selfish, but a need for him to mate you. This man, on the other hand, won’t give a shit if you like it and wants to use you because your just there. Not because he loves you, or wants to hold you in his arms forever. Keeping you safe and making sure you’re never in pain.

This man wants to bring you pain, and you shut your eyes and cry out one last time before you think you’re about to be ruined forever. “Jungkook, help me!”

It happens so fast after that… but not what your thinking.

One second the man is pushing up your dress to reveal yourself to him, and the next he’s being ripped off of you. It doesn’t register to you that you’re no longer being pinned to the ground until you start to hear screaming, growling, and the sound of bones breaking. Breathing heavily against the ground, you stay completely still until the screams stop out of no where and the smell of blood is in the air.

You blink back your tears that are still falling, and on shaking arms you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Before you could be brave enough to stand up entirely, a hand is being pressed into your back. You jump away from the hand and turn around to see a bloodied face Jungkook crouching in front of you.

Although your eyes are being blurred with tears, you can see his extremely upset face as he takes in your form. You don’t waste any time. You leap into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He makes a ‘Uph’ sound and stubbles back, but he catches you nonetheless. He’s always there to catch you.

Jungkook buries his face into your neck to smell you, while your face is against his neck to cry into. He growls against your neck when his nose processes the now dead’s man smell on you. You let him scent mark you, and the whole times he’s keeping you strapped to him. Not letting go of you for a single second.

By the time he’s down scenting you, and your crying has simmered down a little, you pull your face out of his neck to face him. The same deep frown and saddened eyes look at you, and you know it’s because of what almost transpired a few moments ago.

He swallows, pushing out a, “Hurt…?” You open your mouth to say no, because even though it scared you the man didn’t hurt you exactly. But then Jungkook is pushing out more words, “Try. To… Hurt. You?”

Your lip wobbles, and you can’t speak. Feeling your chest crumble from knowing the answer to his question is not positive, and instead of you speaking you nod your head since it’s too hard to speak right now.

Jungkook’s upset frown turns into an expression you haven’t seen yet on him. You know what he looks when he’s happy (flick up of the corners of his mouth), and when he’s sad (deep frown and drooping eyes), but this is different… this Jungkook is angry.

His sharp wolf teeth extend from his gums, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle and twitch as he thinks about what that man would have done to you. If it wasn’t for Jungkook being back on his way to the cabin at that second, it would have been too late. The man’s smell didn’t even register to him when Jungkook did an air check to smell where you were. All he smelt was something dirty, and he registered that as the part of the woods you were in smelling weird.

Never again. Never again will he ignore weird smells around you, or think your alright even if something seems off. He’ll drop everything for you. Even if he really wants to go claw some more at the dead man’s body right now, he picks you up as you’re now, wrapped around his body, and starts carrying you in the direction of the cabin.

You keep your face against Jungkook’s shoulder the entire time. Not letting go even after he puts you on the bed. You don’t remember how you got here, or even him closing the door behind you, but once your in bed and safe you still don’t let him go of him. And Jungkook is okay with that.

He puts you against the wall, making sure your caged in between his body and the wall so nothing can harm you. Even if someone were to look inside the cabin right now, all they would see is Jungkook’s naked back and ass.

Trying to be a good mate, he hums what sounds like a lullaby as he runs his sharps nails up and down your clothed back. When you finally begin to relax, calmly pulling your arms off of him so they can be sandwiched in between the two of you, you whisper a quiet, “Thank you.”

Jungkook stops humming, and stops rubbing your back. Looking down at your shameful looking face with wide eyes.

“Why?” He asks.

“Why, thank you?” He nods his head pointedly. “For saving me.”

Jungkook won’t take that. He won’t take a thank you for this. Your his mate, and he wasn’t there to protect you. He doesn’t deserve your thank yous or even you at this point. Pulling your face out of his chest with his two hands, he stares into your eyes as he tries to communicate how he feels. “No. No, thank yous. Don’t… Deserve… Thank yous. Or… You.”

Now it’s your turn to look at him wide eyed. You grab onto his hands on your face and shake your head. “What are you talking about? Yes, you do. You deserve me because I’m your mate.”

Jungkook’s shakes his head. “Not enough.”

Your lips part, and you see the sadness in Jungkook’s eyes as his hands fall off your face. This is the first time he said something without breaking the words apart, and out of all things it was him saying he’s not enough for you. Well now, your not going to take that.

You grab onto his face, making him face you and feel a little pleased with yourself when you see a surprised look on his face. You pull his face forward and smash your lips against his. He’s surprised, at first, but then he’s groaning into your mouth and wrapping his arms around your middle again. You moan when you feel his length begin to grow against your thigh, moving it slightly to allow him some friction. He growls when you do that, and you detach your lips from his as you look at him determined to make him understand just how you feel about what he just said.

“You do deserve me, Jungkook. You deserve me because I’m your mate, and you’re mine. And I-… I love you so stop being stupid and just claim what’s yours already!”

Jungkook blinks, registers your words a couple times in his head, and repeats, “Mate?”

You roll your eyes and say, “Yes!”

“Love. Me?”

You swallow, taking a moment of hesitation but then replying again, “Yes.”

Then that’s all Jungkook needs to be convinced. He smashes his lips against yours the same way you did, and you’re moaning up a storm by the time he rolls you underneath him. You take your clothing off as fast as your arms can do it, and then Jungkook is thrusting into you the second your pussy is presented to him.

Both of you making noises of pleasure as he enters you, stretching and rubbing at your walls just the way you like it as he roughly pounds against your core. As always, Jungkook fucks you rough and hard, but right now you need it. You need it just as much as him, and when you both cum at the same time, you’re scratching at his back to go another round… and another… and another.

As always, you lose count of how many rounds you both did, but this time you’re both out of breathe by the time you both decide to stop. His cum is leaking from you because you’re so filled to the brim with his seed, and you revel in it. Feeling his cum drip on your leg, and feeling his soft lips peeper kiss your face as he sandwiches your body against his and the wall again.

You love it all! But most importantly, you love your mate.

And he loves you more than you could ever comprehend.

-

-

-

The End

#jungkook #jk #jk bts #jungkook bts #bts #yandere #yandere jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #werewolf!jungkook x reader #werewolf!jungkook x human!reader #yandere werewolf jungkook #human!reader #jk smut #cabin in the woods #yandere jungkook x reader #bts yandere #horror!au #horror jungkook #happy halloween

[uyuartik]

promises, promises

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

warnings:nothing actually, just fluff, aaron is barely there tbh, but it makes sense no worries, suggestive themes

A/N: first time posting on tumblr and first time writing about criminal minds! i made this in a hurry, and it's been a while since i used this format, so feel free to correct any mistakes you see. likes and reblogs are very much encouraged, i can't wait to hear your comments. hope you like it!

hope you like it, @eveningserenityyy

crossposted on ao3

When you both returned home from a hard case, all you ever wanted was him. 

You didn’t care how late it was, or how exhausted you two were. Unfortunately, like the last couple of days didn't consume your every waking hour, you weren't totally free once it was over. The flight was long enough to leave your hands itching for a touch, your legs bounced with the urge to carry you to his side. Your eyes were fixated on him, ogling his broad shoulders and strong arms that were pronounced even under his suit. Not to mention the fact that with the effect he had on you would remain unsolved for some time, you couldn't just use this time to take a nap. You'd surely dream, or talk during your sleep, and reveal what should remain private. He was kind enough to show his interest by placing a hand on your thigh during the car ride, though that somehow made things worse as it stayed in the same spot, leaving you to only imagine all the things you’d do once you got home.

But, being the Aaron Hotchner he is, with all his previous cognizance and secret smiles, now he didn’t seem to share your amusement. Not immediately. 

Because when he closed the door behind his back (carrying both of your small suitcases, gentlemen as ever), you were quick to cage him against the same door, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with the accumulated lust of the previous week. He didn’t reject the initiation, kissing you back with probably half of your enthusiasm, but it was enough to make you moan, and cause him to smile, which you felt more than actually see. One hand was wrapped around your waist, the other in the process of depositing the luggages safely against the wall, but then the now free hand didn’t find its way to you, so you pressed your bodies, reaching in for another kiss. It was in this moment that he held your chin, and said the words that crushed your spirit.

“Take care of yourself, and then I’ll come and take care of you.”

You huffed and whined, grinding on him harder and attempting to convince him with your lips, all fallen to deaf ears as he peppered a kiss to your wrist, and unhooked himself from it, leaving you to stand there. Seeing that you were actually stunned, he called your name with a look that emphasized his words. There was a certain authority to his voice, but the type solely reserved for the ones he loves, a warning that comes from wishing the best for you. Now, it was also laden with a subtle neediness. If you were a little less tired, you'd have been more adamantine in your venture, and you'd succeed, an undeniable probability. Who was he to resist, if you fell to your knees here-

So, with an exaggerated sigh, you stripped out of your jacket, purposely throwing it to the nearest surface. Aaron laughed(you can swear it echoed in the house, the warmth of it bouncing off of the walls and finding its way inside your belly), taking in your attitude as you carried yourself to the kitchen for a handful of snacks and a big glass of water. The next stop was the bathroom, where you brushed your teeth under the tired gaze of your reflection. What was the point of having a shower if you had to take another in a few hours? 

Okay, that was a little gross, but considering the somnolescent effects of the hot water, your battle on the verge of being lost and that irritated you beyond reason, to say the least.

After all that (which took no more than twenty minutes thanks to your work habits, yet it felt so much longer), you opted for his favorite t-shirt and a pair of panties. The t-shirt was another attempt to get him mad, because you knew he'd choose this one in this particular night, and now he couldn't. However, you quickly realised it was not the case, as he finally made his way to bed. You didn't open your eyes, just feeling the dip of the mattress as he settled behind you, pulling you towards his very naked chest. The newly changed sheets (subtle bastard, he was) crinkled under your movement, a sensation you ravished, especially since he was there too.

“You’re too late.” You slurred, too tired even to react when his wet hair rubbed against your skin. His scent was intoxicating, and it was all you could breathe while he buried himself into your neck, starting his sweet assault. His fingers slithered up your leg, creating a tingly route. You squirmed under all the affection he showed, for it was a lot for your poor nerves to handle, and somehow, found yourself pressed to him even closer. Your breathing picked up, and this time, he let himself mirror your reaction. He groaned, his hand now just below your breasts, under his t-shirt. Damn, you were cute with your eyes closed and brows scrunched, weakly holding onto his arm yet strong enough to wriggle your hips against him.

“You’ll see I am a man of my word.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #hotchner x reader

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Katniss feeling insecure one random afternoon after seeing Peeta interact with some pretty girlies and asking him later that night all quiet if he thinks she’s pretty 🥺

I meant for this to be funny and then it turned out... not funny. Oh well. Enjoy some post-Mockingjay not fluff but not really angst??? No warning tags on this one.

“Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Catching Fire, Chapter 15 “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” - Mockingjay, Chapter 16

It takes me longer than usual to finish trading with the new butcher. She’s originally from Ten and came here after marrying a soldier from Thirteen. She refused to live underground any longer and he tried living in Ten, but felt too exposed and jumpy in the flat plains of that district. Twelve was their compromise. But I haven’t had the chance to build the kind of rapport with her that I had with Rooba.

Rooba. I make a mental note to ask Peeta to draw her for the memory book tonight. We’ll both have memories of her that need to be recorded.

When I finish with the butcher, mostly satisfied with the cuts of deer meat and the coin I walk away with, I make my way over to the bakery. Usually I’d help Peeta close for the day. I got lucky catching the deer so close to the fence, but it still took time for me to bring back enough help to drag it to the butcher.

Surprisingly, there are still a handful of customers in the bakery. Unusual, this late in the day. I hasten my steps, thinking Peeta might want some help getting rid of the chatty customers, and seeing me after a hunt usually does the trick.

As I reach the window, though, I slow my pace. It’s not just any customers. It’s the Lassiter girls. They moved here after the war with their father, who used to be the head foreman at a perfume factory in District One. Apparently someone thought his skills would translate well to running a medicine factory, because that’s what his job here is. And his five daughters -- Neroli, Dior, Ambrette, Clary, and Opal -- aged twenty-four to sixteen, spaced two years apart down the line, are each just as beautiful as the last. Gossip holds that they each have a different mother, and while there’s been no confirmation from their father on that point, they’re each so strikingly different in looks and coloring that it wouldn’t surprise me.

They’re currently clustered near the counter, a bouquet of undoubtedly sweet smelling flowers. Their dresses a rainbow of eye-catching hues in expensive looking fabrics. All I can do is snort as I think of how dull and dingy their clothes would’ve been if they’d lived here when there was still a coal mine. But their hair, although different shades, all gleams in glossy waves and curls and curtains of shimmering silk in the bright lights of the bakery.

I hear Peeta’s laughter then, followed shortly by the twittering chorus of the Lassiter girls’ giggling. Ugh. They cannot be serious. Not my Peeta.

None of them are married yet, and there’ve already been several District Twelve men turned away from their front door step with dazed looks in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually dared to propose to one of the Lassiter girls. And while this group ambush of my Peeta gives me an idea of what sort of partner they might be looking for, it’s unacceptable.

I push through the bakery door and attempt a smile. Neroli sees me first. The oldest, and by far the smartest of this bunch, our eyes meet and her lips curl in a smile. She’s dressed in a dark, forest green dress. Her dark, almost black hair swept to one side, into a long, sleek ponytail. There’s no denying that she’s stunning. Long, sooty black lashes frame her pale eyes that I’ve never been able to decide if they’re blue or gray. Some part of me knows that if I were somehow more beautiful, I might look like her.

Neroli glances at Peeta, then back at me. She inclines her head slightly towards me, and I’m not certain what she means until she speaks.

“Father will be wondering what’s keeping us,” she announces to her sisters. “Come on. Get your purchases and let’s leave these two turtle doves alone.”

She still pauses to say something to Peeta before she and her sisters clear out, but the glance she throws my way before shutting the door behind her makes me think that maybe Neroli and I might’ve been friends under different circumstances. When I finally manage to look at Peeta, he’s head down in the cases, cleaning them out.

“Lock the door for me? How was your day in the woods?”

“Not bad,” I tell him as I throw the bolt. “I got a deer.”

“That’s great!”

“Put this in the cold storage while I sweep?” I hand him the package from the butchers and he hands me a broom across the counter. It’s one of my usual chores and it isn’t long after that we’re headed home. But all through dinner, I can’t get the image of the flock of Lassiter girls twittering around him out of my head. 

I distract myself after we clean up the kitchen with the memory book, telling Peeta about the deer today and how things went with the new butcher. We share a few memories of Rooba while he sketches her and I write them down in draft. We manage to finish her page and seal it into the book before it’s very late.

And while Peeta showers with me, and stands next to me while we brush our teeth and get ready for bed, he somehow feels distant. As I lay down and watch him as he carefully removes his prosthetic, I can’t help but think again about the Lassiter girls.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmurs as he turns to me, slipping his legs under the covers and cupping my cheek in his palm before kissing my lips once, softly.

“Goodnight,” I respond and blink when he turns out the light and lays down.

But I can’t get comfortable. And behind my closed eyes, I see a still ravaged Peeta, the hijacking reversal barely even begun. His knuckles pale as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him and restraints holding him down, safely away from me.

“You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty.”

I huff out a heavy breath and jam the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, trying to push the image out of my brain. He’s laying right here beside me. He kissed me and called me his love just minutes ago. What Peeta and I have puts the stars in the sky and the poets’ words on the page to shame with its depth and significance. That’s far better than some superficial beauty.

And yet the words still slip past my lips.

“Peeta,” I whisper, and he hums in response so that I’m not sure if he’s fully awake or not. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

There’s a few seconds of silence and then I hear the sound of the sheets rustling as Peeta turns over to face me.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just a question,” I say and smack my hands down onto the bed, right at my sides. They’re still clenched into fists and I try to hold back the sudden, ridiculous tears welling up in my eyes. Because his hesitancy to answer tells me what I need to know. How stupid of me to ask.

“Katniss, honey,” he breathes and moves through the dark, pulling me into his arms. “You will always be as radiant as the sun to me,” he tells me and I snort, wishing I’d never told him that phrase or how I’d once used it. “No, I’m serious. Katniss, you take my breath away.”

“But I’m still not particularly pretty. At least not as pretty as Neroli Lassiter, am I?” I poke and I can feel his frame stiffening besides me.

“No. Oh no, no, you can’t believe what I said that day, Katniss.”

“But you were right. I’m not very big.”

“And we both looked like shit that day because we’d been through too much shit. That doesn’t mean I meant it, Katniss. You have to know I was… I was trying to hurt you that day. Hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. Because I thought you’d used me, chosen Gale and the rebels, and left me to die or worse in that arena.”

“I know,” I say and finally manage to turn over into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he caresses my back and whispers a hundred apologies for his careless words. I inhale his scent and let his hands soothe me.

So when he slips his fingers beneath my chin, I let him lift my face to his. I close my eyes and savor the brush of his lips against mine.

“You once told me that I had a weakness for beautiful things,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

“Real,” I answer without pause. I can smell the horses and feel the warmth of Cinna’s glowing ember costume. I can see Peeta in front of me, radiant and beautiful, and smiling in amusement at my assessment of him. “But you don’t have a weakness for beauty. Only an eye for it,” I remind him.

“So yes, Neroli Lassiter is a beautiful woman--”

“And her sisters?” I prod and I can feel Peeta smiling against my lips as he kisses me once.

“And her sisters are, too. But you’re the only beautiful person I have a weakness for. No one else has left a lasting impression the way you have.”

I can’t help but smile stupidly at the repetition of his words from the cave. The reminder that somewhere amongst the acting for the cameras, we always had at least a sliver, a taste, a fraction of or at least the roots of something real.

“I’m still a goner for you, Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?” he whispers, and I already know the answer. I know what he wants me to say, because it’s true.

“Real.”

#words are peetas thing not mine #everlark fanfiction #everlark #post mockingjay #i don't even know what this is #but here you go anon #enjoy #anonymous #look at that ask

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I shouldn't have to say it, but Rhaenyra should not be held responsible for the actions and consequences of the grown ass men around her.

It amazes me when I see people trying to argue that Rhaenyra is somehow responsible for Criston Cole killing Joffrey. This argument that well if Rhaenyra hadn't have slept with Cole making him break his vows he wouldn't have been so distraught that he then killed Joffrey, as if Cole wasn't a full grown man capable of making his own decisions and choices, no it must be Rhaenyra's fault. Cole had more than enough opportunities to stop before sleeping with Rhaenyra and breaking his vows, did you see how complicated that armour was, it had to be removed piece by piece, this wasn't a rush of throwing off clothes caught in the heat of the moment, it took time and thought to remove his armour, he could have stopped it at any moment if he wanted to, it was clear that he didn't want to stop. There's also this argument that there was a power imbalance between them because Rhaenyra was a princess and so Cole might have felt like he couldn't say no. I might surprise some here by saying that actually I agree that there was a power imbalance between them because of Rhaenyra's station being higher than Criston's. There was another power imbalance in that Criston was a adult in his mid to late twenties by this point who had previous sexual experience and Rhaenyra was a 19 year old drunk virgin. A lot of relationships have some kind of power imbalance especially in a world based on a medieval time period, the important part is how they are portrayed, in this moment there was nothing to suggest that either Rhaenyra or Cole were using these power imbalances to manipulate the other into having sex with them. Rhaenyra did not order Cole to stay, Cole didn't attempt to seduce the less experienced Rhaenyra, it was made very clear that this was a consensual act between the two of them. As for Cole possibly feeling like he couldn't say no, well my answer to that is that he had no issue saying no to Alicent, the Queen, when she demanded he take a child's eye out, so that's kind of a moot argument. Point is just because Cole got upset and felt guilty about breaking his vows, just because he was hurt that Rhaenyra didn't want to give up literally everything to run off with him so that he could save himself from some of that guilt, doesn't mean that Cole's sins and crimes are now Rhaenyra's responsibility. If he couldn't handle the consequences of his actions then that is his problem not hers.

Another one I keep seeing Rhaenyra get blamed for is Otto getting fired. According to some people its Rhaenyra's fault because she lied about still being a virgin and poor Otto lost his job, as if Otto wasn't scheming and plotting the entire time he was hand of the king. Let's be real here, Otto got fired because his scheming caught up with him. Viserys had a moment of clarity and realised that Otto would always put the interests of his own house and blood above that of the King's, that's why he got fired. Just because Otto then told Alicent that it was Rhaenyra's fault doesn't mean you are supposed to take his words at face value, that was him plotting some more, it doesn't actually make it Rhaenyra's fault.

Call me crazy but sometimes I feel like antis can't find any legitimate reason to criticise Rhaenyra so instead they find ways to blame her for the actions of the other characters in the show instead, its nonsensical.

#hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #team black #anti team green #anti criston cole #anti otto hightower

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I hope life hasn't been too terrible for y'all while I've been gone xD. While on this little vacation, I realized I have Computer Vision Syndrome (CVS). I know that sounds silly, but it actually really fucking sucks. When I write for a long period on my laptop screen (like 5 hours), I get awful eye pain, headache, migraines, blurred vision, vertigo, and nausea. I've learned different tips and tricks to help with it, so I'm doing much better. Thank y'all so much for letting me enjoy my break, and happy reading! 

P.S. Updates will still be Sun/Mon.

Chapter Warnings: 0-100 real quick but with sexism, extreme anti-bastard language, minor ableist language, panic attack.

"My blood is red and unafraid of living, beginning to end.

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too,

And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime.

I'm at my highest peak.

I'm ripe, about to fall, capture me."- Liquid Smooth, Mitski.

Surprisingly, life had proceeded smoothly after your tumultuous reappearance at Kings Landing. You expected more hardships to come, but astonishingly, they had yet to arrive.

However, becoming used to Aegon's advances took time. Following like a lost puppy everywhere you went, never far from his beloved little Princess. Much to your chagrin, people began to group you and the wastrel prince as a pair. Where one was, the other was sure to be.

Queen Alicent had dubbed you Aegon's keeper, ensuring he was not frequenting the Silk Streets and gambling houses as he once did. Playing the role of the Prince's Mother wasn't enjoyable at first, but you understood how much of an advantage this was, and a part of you grew to like it. It was the only sturdy aspect in your life, comforting and tending to Aegon's needs like a nursemaid, and should questions arise from your frequent sightings within the eldest son's apartments, the Queen herself would explain the rumors away.

Alicent prayed to the Seven that providing close contact with Aegon would convince you to see her reasons behind the line of succession and sway you to believe them. Even if that didn't work, she still found a way to control her scoundrel of a son and keep the blanket of shame from lying upon their backs. The Queen did not worry herself about the idea that her son might attempt to corrupt you. She was sure that if Aegon tried anything, you would physically overpower him and that her son's poor, borderline misogynistic words he called flirting would not work on a sensible woman like you.

Alicent had yet to inform her father of the schemes she concocted, and Lord Otto Hightower grew wary of the Bastard Princess and the Drunken Prince's time together. He knew of your loyalty to your family and how you believed with your entire soul that destroying centuries' worth of tradition and precedent would better the realm. By putting Rhaenyra on the throne, a girl he watched grow into a woman uncaring of duty, you would somehow prove yourself better than your worth.

But that was not how things were. That was not how dynasties secured their reign for millennia.

Upon reflecting on the situation, Otto realized he couldn't separate Aegon from you, for he was permanently attached to your hip. He needed someone under his thumb that you deemed trustworthy. Perhaps a knight that you respected and felt a familiarity with?

Otto summoned Ser Arryk to his study during the moment of realization. He tasked the Kingsguardmen to become your protector in the Red Keep regarding your newly appointed status as Small Council member. Lord Hightower knew it was a lie, and he understood you would too, but was comforted by the notion that Ser Arryk would accept this task with duty, honor, and integrity and would not fail him.

Yet, Arryk's reports back to him were trivial. He gave the Hand information he already knew and, at moments, even made him doubt putting the White Cloak to the task. The only thing that sparked Otto Hightower's interest was how many letters departed from the Rookery. At one point, when the Lord was genuinely desperate, he opened a letter addressed to Dragonstone, hoping to find something, anything that would give him that edge, but was greeted with a language he didn't understand and hot embarrassment for having been caught by the newly appointed Grand Maester Orwyle after the death of his predecessor.

But it was no matter, the Hand told himself. He learned how to wait. Otto Hightower spent many years playing a game no one else knew they were in and had not failed yet, for his daughter was crowned Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, and his grandson was in line to inherit the Iron Throne. Otto Hightower had to be patient, as he always was, and everything would fall into place.

***

The eldest Prince's head rested in your lap, his violet orbs following the shapes of the white cotton clouds in the afternoon sky. You watched Princess Helaena search for bugs on the underside of leaves, quietly humming to yourself a song Rhaenyra had sung to you on many occasions.

You had just finished picnicking with him, Helaena, and her children, the tots handed to a nursemaid after little Jaehaerys fell asleep in your arms. It was a request by Aegon to his sister-wife to have them all for lunch. An idea you planted in his head that initially did not include a third person, but upon Aegon's manipulation Helaena allowed you to come—explaining something about how good you were with his son and that it would be practice for when you made the eternal sacrifice that was the act of raising children. Helaena immediately brightened at the notion of you possibly bringing more babes into the Keep and agreed immediately.

A nuzzling sensation on your stomach stole you from your contented trance, looking down to see Aegon pressing his nose into the crevice where your stomach overlapped the apex of your thighs. He continued the movements as you glanced over to Helaena, ensuring she was still distracted by the pair of mating green beetles she found.

"Aegon," you chastised, cocking a brow at the burrowing Prince. "Your wife is standing ten and five paces from us."

"And?" he prompted, nipping at the thin golden fabric of your natural waistline.

"And she could suddenly become disinterested in the pair of breeding insects and see her lord husband burying his face into the navel of another woman," you snapped, slightly curling your lip as your fingers glided over his scalp.

"Helaena would not care. She is my sister," Aegon flippantly retorted, his words muffled by your gut.

You rolled your eyes, the ring of purple shimmering in the Spring daylight and momentarily distracting Aegon. "She is your wife by law and the divine. 'Tis an insult for you to be so openly disrespectful of your ties," you answered cooly.

The Prince groaned, the noise muffled by silk and flesh as he moved his hands, swiftly palming at your breasts before he sat upright.

"Your observations are always appreciated, little one, but I believe those skills could be put to better use," he teased, giving your tits another squeeze as you stifled a squeal before separating to a proper distance.

"Rotten prince!" you whispered heatedly to Aegon, glancing at Helaena again.

He snickered in response, taking a swig of the imported strawberry mead from Drone to hide his smirk. "I seem to remember you calling me a different name last night." He gulped down the drink, releasing a satisfied exhale. "What was it again? Good boy? My sweet Prince?" He feigned forgetfulness, gazing into the blue sky with a stubby digit tapping his chin. "Oh, that's right! I remember now! 'Twas-"

You launched across the patterned blanket the servants had placed and tackled Aegon, covering his mouth with your fist as he squealed like a captured piglet. He wriggled like one as you attempted to punch his cherubic cheeks, legs straddling his torso.

Suddenly, your name was called, startling you and causing your hands to move from Aegon's body and rest your weight fully atop his waist. You feared the worst. Helaena, furious at you and storming over to have you escorted from Kings Landing for your scandalous actions, destroying your plans.

"Please, don't hurt him too badly," Helaena said, still focused on the beetles. "I am certain whatever caused this isn't worth murdering him over, but if you must..." She trailed off, turning her hand over as the emerald bug crawled across the back of it. "I have not seen anything."

It took a few blinks to realize she was jesting. Her monotone, almost dreamy voice did not indicate if she was. A hint of a smile graced Helaena's thin, peony lips, a devilish glint within your eyes as you bent your knees to attack.

"Devious women! Evil women, the lot of you!" Aegon cursed in faux protest, wrestling his arms with yours as a grin split your face.

And that was how Ser Arryk found you, straddling the eldest son of the King as you rolled over the top of each other like fighting wolves, kicking the large wicker basket to his feet on accident. He cleared his throat as he reached you, Aegon using the distraction to his advantage as he flipped you over onto your stomach, mouth centimeters away from your neck.

"Princess," Ser Arryk interrupted awkwardly. Aegon deflated against you at the sound of his voice, resting his forehead on your shoulder in defeat.

"Good afternoon Ser Cargyll," you chirped, trying to control the blush that crept across your cheeks. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Arryk's gaze flickered to the protruding flesh of your bosom before swiftly averting his eyes to the blooming shrubs. He cleared his throat again, the notch bobbing as he swallowed.

"The Hand has ordered a meeting of the King's Council, your Grace. 'Tis an urgent matter," he answered, his back ramrod straight.

You sighed in acknowledgment, using your palms to arch your body and shove Aegon off, his short nails catching on the embroidered beads of your dress. He groaned in annoyance as he flopped onto the ground dramatically, reminding you of Jaehaerys during one of his tantrums.

Righting yourself, you smoothed the golden fabric of your gown, which Helaena commissioned for you as a Maiden Day gift and finally felt appropriate enough to wear. You nodded at the Kingsguardmen, walking a few paces before turning to face Helaena and Aegon, the latter pouting like the spoiled boy he was.

"I apologize that our picnic must be shortened, my Prince and Princess. I'm sure we could meet for supper if that is feasible," you offered with a tilt of your head.

Helaena nodded, strolling over to her sulking brother as she nudged him with her slippered foot.

Arryk observed the interaction as he waited, his eyes trailing to places of sin. The way your flowing silk dress hugged your skin, the white pearls on the neckline complimenting your intricately styled ebony hair. Bronze beads were sewn on the gold fabric in a way that reminded him of a weeping willow, the same little balls threaded into your thin sleeves in a swirling pattern. His gaze danced over your curves next, your hips, waist, arse, anything he could see before you faced him once more, a brilliant smile on your lips.

Shame ran hot through his veins as he made contact with Aegon, his eyes dark and stare piercing. Arryk had only seen looks like that from men set to battle, hardening themselves for imminent slaughter. He knew of the Prince's quick anger, a secondhand source of it from his brother. Whatever Aegon was thinking, or more so planning, Ser Arryk didn't want to be a victim of.

He quickly turned, making his way towards an entrance of the Keep without regarding the sole reason he came. You watched Ser Cargyll's retreating form, throwing a perplexed look at Helaena and Aegon before following him, the string of pearls around your waist swaying with the movement.

Once you both were far enough away from the Godswood, you stood in Arryk's pathway, hands on your hips.

"Why did you leave so abruptly? 'Tis hardly proper as a member of the Kingsguard to turn your back on his kin," you interrogated.

"My apologies, Princess," Arryk bowed, muscles tense.

Your face soured, cringing at the emotionless sound of his voice. "None of that," you waved your hands, dismissing the subject. "Twas odd, is all. I've never seen you act in such a way before. It concerns me." You paused, pursing your lips as you glanced at the cracked red stone floors, moving closer to him. "Did Lord Hightower inform you why the meeting was called? Is that the reason for your callousness?"

Ser Arryk swallowed the lump in his throat that formed while watching your concerned face scrunch, the violet in your eyes becoming larger as your pupils shrunk in the daylight. He couldn't answer your questions truthfully without knowing your relationship with Aegon, redirecting the conversation to something more comfortable.

"I am unaware of the reason," Arryk answered instead, his posture still tense as he spoke. "It's rather unusual for the Hand to do this, no?" He noted the brief scowl that pulled your mouth, tucking your lips in to nibble at them.

"Yes. You are correct, Ser Cargyll," you nodded, pivoting on the balls of your feet as you proceeded with your journey. "It unnerves me greatly if you do not mind me speaking freely." You glanced at him in your peripherals. He encouraged you to continue, following a respectable distance. "The last time something like this happened, Grand Maester Mellos passed, and Mother encouraged me to have her Maester put forth. 'Twas humiliating when Lord Hightower said it was the Citadel's decision, not the King's."

You pinched the bridge of your nose at the memory, shame, and regret burning your ears to this day. Ser Arryk chuckled at your recollection and, without thinking better of it, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as a friend or companion would. He recoiled faster than a striking snake once he realized, clenching his fist behind his back in abashment.

You peered at him curiously with a raised brow, assessing the situation. The knight had forgotten himself, acting more of an acquaintance than a protector. Some of you wanted to dismiss what happened and brush it off as a mistake anyone would make when spending nearly every waking moment with someone. Still, the other more intellectual side saw the opportunity that had just presented itself, and who were you to ignore it?

In your hopes that it was amicable, a grin crossed your face, hooking your opulent arm with his armored one, encouraging him to keep walking and that you weren't offended by his actions. You continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, explaining to him more times that you made a fool of yourself during court and your anxiety with the impending Lords you were about to face. Arryk listened intently, offering consoling words each time you finished, eventually loosening his flexed muscles. Once you were a few paces away from the Council Chambers, you parted from Ser Cargyll with a polite smile, asking him to wait outside the doors until the meeting was done. He, of course, agreed, finding a spot alongside the wall as you entered.

Insecurity flipped your stomach as the few Lords stared at you, each of their expressions one of shock. You gazed back at them, unsure of the reason for their behavior, as your nails dug crescents into your blanched palms. Alicent was the only person with a neutral look, hiding the faint smile on her plush lips between her hands as she sat in the high-backed chair at the end of the long table.

Lord Tyland Lannister smirked as you signaled Aemond to pour a glass of wine, needing the courage the firewater brought. You followed the direction of his eyes, realizing they were on your outfit, glancing between the pearl dragon earrings and necklace to the shimmering gold of your gown. You understood it was something you would have never chosen yourself, more comfortable in your red and dark day-to-day palette, but it was a gift from a princess, and you weren't expecting an impromptu meeting. It would be best if you had changed before attending, you nervously thought.

Lord Beesbury was the last member to join, rushing in with a flurry of robes and parchment, the scrolls tumbling out of his arms. You rose to help him and gathered the fallen documents, ignoring the impatient groans of the men above you. Lord Laymen gave you a grateful smile, dropping the scrolls in a pile on the oak table before seating himself.

Otto Hightower broke the thick silence with a sigh and clap of his hands.

"I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting, but I have news regarding aid to the Stepstones," he announced uncharacteristically cheery. "We have received the shipments requested earlier than initially thought, and our Master of Coin's secretary has counted everything himself."

You couldn't hide the annoyed tick of your jaw for not knowing this news first. Lord Laymen was told to come to you regarding when the imports arrived. He was the Master of Coin, and a portion of his duties lay in the imports and exports of Kings Landing. You felt a sense of betrayal at the man, your usual cordial look towards him replaced with an icy one.

"This is wonderful news," Lord Lannister replied boisterously, a smile hidden underneath his beard. "Mayhaps we'll finally be done with this Triarchy nonsense, and Lord Corlys will prevail." The Master of Ships raised his half-empty cup, everyone except for you mimicking his actions. "A toast," he hollered, looking at everyone at the rectangular table as you swiftly lifted your drink to match them, "to the Bastard Princess for finally ending this Gods forsaken war."

"Hear, hear," rang out in the room from all the men, only the two women posing across each other, keeping their mouths shut. You downed the entire contents of the blood-orange wine in one go, swallowing the biting insult that threatened to spill from your mouth at the namesake.

"Thank you, my Lord Tyland, but we shouldn't partake in any victory celebrations yet," you said, false appreciation in your tone. "I would like to see the shipments myself if that is all right with you, Lord Beesbury? 'Tis not that I don't trust your secretary; this project is something dear to me, and I would feel at peace if I were there to ensure it in person."

The older Lord nodded almost ludicrously, "Of course, Princess. We shan't proceed without your approval."

Tossing a saccharine smile to the gentleman under your dark lashes as Lord Jasper chimed in. "Princess, I would like to accompany you in the process. As the Master of Laws, I must ensure they have the required documentation to sail to Dragonstone. We have increased our naval patrol over Blackwater Bay, and I would hate for the goods to be confiscated. If they were, it would be out of my hands then."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow at Lord Wylde, unable to hide the look of disbelief on your face. It felt like an unnecessary request of Lord Jasper, and it insulted you to have him think he could get away with it. "They got here fine, did they not? Refrain from troubling yourself with such trivial tasks. I would be surprised if those men could even read," you quipped, forgetting the courtly tone excepted of you.

Suddenly, the room went noiseless, the joyful feeling replaced with something else.

"Many would say the same about a woman like yourself—a bastard from the slums of Flea Bottom sitting on the King's Small Council. Most people would think you suited elsewhere," Ser Jasper sneered, slighted by your remarks.

Your face grew scalding, your hands balling into fists on your lap. You couldn't contain the following words, the inherited rage from the Rouge Prince boiling to the surface. "Why? Are you looking for another wife? Gods rest her soul."

Gasps filled the room. Everyone, even the One-Eyed Prince, was stunned at the venom that had just spewed from your lips. It had only been a month since the passing of Lord Jasper's wife, not yet through the mourning period. You wanted to take it back as soon as you sounded it. Not because of how vile it was but because it cracked the mask of righteousness you wore with pride, showing how much you were truly like your reckless father—the man who slaughtered the innocents of Flea Bottom over a decade ago.

"It would fit you better," he snapped, "wailing in pain while you served the only purpose a woman like you is good for."

You shot out from your chair, nostrils flaring and lifting your skirt before thinking better of it in an endeavor to unsheath your dagger.

"Enough!" The Queen shouted, stopping you from doing something you wouldn't survive to regret. "The Princess shall survey the shipments without company. This meeting is finished."

Each member left the chambers like frightened deer; even the Hand himself left in such a hurry that it shocked Queen Alicent herself. You could feel their lingering stares as they went, putting your cutlass back in its proper place before flickering your glare to the only occupants still brave enough to stay. Aemond stared at you with regard of what could only be interpreted as amazement, his one purple eye wide and bow lips parted like a suffocating fish would—Alicent, still seated, staring at her raw cuticles, a shadow cast over her heart-shaped face from her forearms.

You left with a succinct curtsy and newfound gratefulness for the Queen, pushing the hair that had fallen over your shoulders behind you and meeting the bewildered gaze of Ser Arryk. He would undoubtedly heard the loud screech of your chair as you nearly pounced on Ser Jasper Wylde, and you could see the concern etched in the fine lines of his skin. You disregarded his outstretched hand that wishfully asks to link arms again, the skirt of your dress nearly causing you to trip from your brisk pace. Arryk swallowed the bitter discomfort that formed in his throat at the denial and caught up to you with haste.

"Your Grace, are you well?" The knight oppugned.

"Quite well. Thank you, Ser Cargyll," you gagged, swatting away a strand of hair that blew into your mouth. Arryk's armor clanked with his swift gait, his white cloak billowing behind him.

"Are you sure, my Lady? I heard a commotion moments before the meeting adjourned," he prodded, hoping you would answer his unasked question.

"I tripped Lord Larys, and he fell into his chair, finally putting the poor cripple out of his misery," you snarled, unsure of your destination as you continued moving. "Is that what you want me to say, hmm?" You stopped abruptly, whipping your body around to face him. "That the wildling bastard Aegon Targaryen found in Flea Bottom is an eel like everyone else? Mayhaps I should go back and live amongst my fellow leeches."

Ser Arryk stared at you in stunned confusion, shock, and befuddlement about where your frustrations and sudden outburst originated.

"Princess-" He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, lips curling and uncurling as he tried to find the proper expressions. Arryk finally gave up, his cerulean stares closing as he straightened his posture, becoming the impersonal Kingsguard he trained to be.

Even in your rage, Arryk still found you beautiful. Your inklike mane was braided skillfully in a half up half down style, golden pearl pins framing the soft features of your countenance. Immediately he buried the thought, a blush dusting across his pale cheeks. He desired desperately that moment he had his helmet covering the pink. You soughed, realizing your anger was misplaced, and crossed your arms, the bronze beads of your dress catching one another.

Before you could apologize, you caught a blur of green in the distance, the Queen Consort walking purposefully towards you, a firm yet serene expression on her soft face. The knight took note of your gaze, no longer on him, and turned, his posture impossibly more tense than before.

You both bowed in unison as she halted, dismissing Ser Arryk with the wave of her emerald and peridot jeweled fingers. Eyeing her curiously, you fell beside her, assuming she wanted to talk privately. Queen Alicent hushed as you trekked the long winding hallways of the Keep, waiting for the palace's inhabitants to thin before speaking.

"Twas unbecoming of Lord Wylde to speak in such a manner. I want to apologize on his behalf Princess," she said, causing your stomach to tighten.

The Queen never apologized; not once could you recall a moment where she indeed had. High-borns never sought remorse for their actions from those beneath them. They believed themselves above such things, especially a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You were just a princess, not even in line for the Iron Throne should something tragic happen to the people before you, and yet Alicent was seeking forgiveness. Not even for her actions!

"I believe your apology is unwarranted; you've done nothing wrong. I should hear this from Lord Jasper and not you, my Queen," you replied, flicking a brown and purple eye at her.

Alicent clasped her hands together, a position they seemed never to leave as she nodded grimly. "Yes, I agree, but he would never wound his pride like that. 'Tis the only thing men like him have."

You couldn't hide your disbelief, trying not to bring attention to your reaction lest she decide to rescind this brief moment of peace between you. While her mocking slightly disarmed your caution, you still trod carefully, not adding anything to what you thought of "men like Lord Jasper Wylde." When Queen Alicent saw you would not further her chaffing, she quieted, the delicate grin on her plush lips fleeting.

"It was sad, what he said," Alicent continued thoughtfully, "about your lineage." You glanced at her from the corners of your eyes, not indicating your thoughts. "It's unfair that you're the only bastard who receives nothing."

You quizzically raised a manicured brow at her, willing your mouth not to scowl. "How so?"

"Your adopted brothers. It is no secret that their father is not who Rhaenyra claims to be." You didn't hide the distaste from your look, ceasing your pace alongside her.

"Careful where you tread, my Queen. Some might think what you're implying is treasonous."

Her nude lips pouted, her aureate viridian earrings swaying as she followed. "I know you believe it to be true. I trust that there is comfort in numbers, I suppose. The more bastards in the House, the more likely one would be willing to accept their claim."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, continuing the direction Alicent had set, yet not knowing where it was to be.

"Truly, I do not understand where this hate of bastards comes from. Men have them more than legitiment ones; why is the Heir not held to the same standard?" you griped, ignoring the Queen's unhurried footfalls to catch up to you.

"Because men do not give their bastards titles. They are not set to inherit what their father has, just as you're not."

You stopped striding again, storming to Alicent like an orange flame emerging from a dragon's throat. "I do not need more titles or gold. My worth is not defined by a piece of parchment or coin like yours." Your chest heaved, the necklace resting upon it, glinting with each breath. "Your implications of my brothers' birth will not be so easily forgotten as the King. My Mother will hear of this, and I-"

"The same Mother who refuses to give you what her sons of equal lineage have?"

The urge to strike her was powerful, your mind a raging inferno of acrimony, anger, and a cold draft of hurt. You quickly shoved it away, focusing on the two you could feel clawing at your ribs to escape. But before you could put your emotions into words, a door opened, a short curly white-haired head peeking out.

Aegon's curious amethyst eyes flitted between you and his Mother, attempting to discern what your clenched fists and red face were about, holding a chalice in his hand. You looked back at Alicent in a mix of malice and disgust for having been so worked up that you didn't realize she had led you to her son's door. Alicent's face was schooled, her back straight and neck high, appearing the ever-regal Queen her father groomed her to be.

"Princess, come," Aegon called, his speech lightly slurred, "join me for a drink. You look like you need one."

You hid the sigh of defeat from Alicent, facing her son with a placid smile. "I do not believe it would be proper of me to join you in your chambers without a chaperone," you countered, though you desired greatly to run into his room and lose the ire of the day.

"You are family, Princess," the Queen chimed in, eager to have you distract her eldest son from drinking too heavily and inevitably embarrassing her.

You glared. She knew of Aegon's unkinship-like desire for you, yet, she was content with practically throwing you into his chambers unsupervised. Every expletive you could think of wanted to be thrown at her, but you held your tongue.

"If her Grace is all right with it," you curtsied, hatred beaming as your voice displayed the opposite. "I shall join you for a drink."

Aegon smiled joyfully, taking a swig of his chalice before opening the door wider as you entered, but not before throwing Alicent a nasty look, the Queen's face unchanging. 

You stormed over to the table in the middle of Aegon's greeting room, dragging the simple wooden chair on the stone floor as it screeched. Placing your head within your palms, you huffed, relaxing your constantly tense shoulders as the tipsy Prince sat across you.

"I wasn't lying when I said you look like you need a drink," Aegon teased, furthering his jesting with a slow sip from his cup.

Dismissing him with a shake of your head, you leaned back in your seat with your legs outstretched and face pointed to the ceiling in an unladylike position. You had already drunk an entire bottle worth of alcohol today, and it was only a handful of hours after midday, and waking up the next morn with a cotton mouth and a pounding headache did not seem like a pleasant idea.

"Perhaps I shall make you come, then, for a change." In response, you tilted your head down, your chin tucking into your chest, eyes in incredulous slits. "You always take such good care of me, little one. Let me return the favor."

You couldn't deny that the idea was appealing. It had been ages since you dove into the soothing water that was pleasure, always preoccupied with Aegon, social events, and politicking. The only moments you ever felt that insatiable need the spoiled Prince seemed to have was with him, but more important things were at hand during those moments.

Your pleasure was not a priority, only his. He was the one that needed to become smitten with you. When he finally was, you would give him a choice, stay with his little Princess under the warmth of your bossom, drinking wine and eating all the sweet cakes he could stomach, or die seated on the Iron Throne as your dragon's flames melted the swords into his flesh.

"I do not need tending to, Aegon, but your offer is much appreciated," you replied, standing as you walked toward the open balcony doors.

The air was sweet, filled with the pollination of flowers and trees, the temperature mild, not too hot, nor too cold, a light-sleeved gown sufficient. Aegon quickly followed after you, resuming a mirrored position from the table on the railing, following your gaze to the southern side of Kings Landing.

He wished so ardently for you to give in to your human desires. It had been months of you living within the Red Keep, something Aegon had prayed to the Old Gods and the New since you left him. He spent countless sleepless nights buried high within his cups and deep within women's cunts to cope with his misery, going so far as to request particular whores with the same dark hair as you to bleach a strand to match yours. Nothing worked. It was never enough, never you.

Until now.

The most you had shown Aegon of the cunny he dreamed of was a glimpse on one secret night where his Mother had been particularly cruel with her words, something or other about spending time with his children. You had comforted him with a soothing ballad of kind words and lifting your skirts. Aegon came with such a force that he thought he saw the Stranger. He finally understood why they were called little deaths, for if he had spent like that every time, he would be dead by now.

Aegon perked at your sigh, watching your dress glitter in the sunlight as you crossed your arms. You looked like you belonged to him then, adorned in the same gold and opulence he loved to wear. He imagined then what life would have been like if you became his wife and not his dreamy-eyed sister.

How many children would you have now? Would he still have the twins? 

Aegon chuckled at the thought, catching your curious stare as he quieted. No, most certainly not. He would never leave you a moment unswollen if you wed. You would have sired at least six children if your body and the Gods allowed it. Your breasts would weigh heavy on your back, and Aegon, the ever-doting husband, would heal you from that pain. He would fuck you until the babe's head dropped, and you could see its lanugo hair. He would stay by your side through every moment of your birthing despite the impropriety of it. Then, after that, Aegon would care for the wounds his child caused, dabbing at your tender womanhood and applying the ointments the Maester prescribed.

A thumping in Aegon's cock tore him from his fantasies, reeling him into the present. You unmarried and babeless, him a piss poor father for his current children and neglectful husband to his real wife. He brushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to fall into the home that was his self-loathing. You were right across from him, deep into your head. He could give it to you now, what he desired, and see how your little deaths would rake through your whole body.

"I can sense you staring," your voice struck like the water he fell into at Blackwater Bay this past winter, "and why you are doing so. You will not make me come, Aegon. I've no want for it."

"Is that a challenge, little one," he teased, pushing off the red stone banister and sauntering towards you.

"No," you answered, facing him with a steeled expression. "It's a command."

"Awe, but Princess, the look in your eyes says differently."

You guffawed, your brows shooting to your hairline as you tilted your head. "You must be drunk then, for you are seeing things. Come now, let's sober you up."

You signaled for him to follow as you walked back inside, only to be stopped by Aegon's deft hands. He moved you more forcefully than possible, dragging you back to your former spot and caging your legs between his.

"Aegon, be serious," you declared, attempting to move his limbs but failing. Despite his lack of training, Aegon could be relatively strong when he wanted.

"I have waited years for you to return to me. I have cried, alone at night in my chambers, praying that the Gods bring you back." You watched him with a look of surprise and sympathy, reaching your arm out to stroke his cheek, something you knew disarmed him, but he swiftly snatched it. "But they did not answer. Now, I have you, and I shall never let you leave."

Aegon's lips crashed against yours without warning, his pink tongue making its way to tangle with yours. You were frozen at the sudden foreign sensation, leaving your jaw to hang loosely open before he shoved a knee betwixt your thighs. The beads of your dress created harsh pinpricks of pleasure on your pearl, causing your mouth to open and your body to slacken, Aegon deepening the kiss instinctually. Your back arched over the stone railing, the Prince's hold being the only thing to keep you from tumbling to your death, digging your fingers into the fabric of his doublet for leverage. If you were to fall, you would ensure the unspoken heir would do so with you.

Aegon's mouth left yours, taking the chance to regain both your breaths before he dove back in, sucking and nipping at the expanse of your neck. His hands began to explore downward on your body, his nails catching on the metal orbs sewn into the fabric, treading lower, lower, and lower until he bunched the fabric of your skirt in his grip.

"Aegon." You tried to sound firm, but the word became a whimper. Squirming in his grasp to leave, you only became weak, the steady placement of his knee rubbing against that sacred area, turning your muscles to mush. "Stop."

He shushed you in response, nuzzling his nose behind your ear, inhaling the welcoming smell of lavender and dragon. "It's all right, little one. I'm here. You deserve this," he cooed, snaking his palm across your navel and down to your heat.

He felt the hair there, more plentiful than when Aegon last touched it, brushing over the coarse strands before entering a finger between your lips. You cried out at the coldness of his digits against your sensitive core, trying to heat his touch before venturing further.

"You're soaked, sweet girl," he purred into your ear, nibbling at the decorated lobe. "Why do you deny yourself so? You do so much for the kingdom, for your family," Aegon paused, parting your damp lips and sliding a slick finger over your bud as warmth shot through you, "for me." Your leg hitched at his touch, moaning loudly as his pad drew circles.

"I don't-" you wept, cutting yourself off as you felt a coil in your stomach form.

"You don't what?" he mocked, pressing firmer and causing a spark of ecstasy to bolt through you. "Don't want it? No." Aegon shook his head, answering for you. "You don't deserve it? No again. You do more in a day than my wastrel father did during his entire reign."

Aegon went faster now, his finger rubbing harder than before and making you leak onto your thighs. "Don't... talk about your father," you said breathily, your head leaning on his.

You felt the vibration of his laugh in your skull, giving you a momentary peck to your jaw in apology as his other hand dropped the skirt of your gown and wrapped it around your waist to grind into his touch. Your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, the wire inside your abdomen rapidly tightening with each refined movement.

"You deserve this. You know you deserve this," Aegon repeated, using your moistness to go faster. "I want you to say it. I want you to say it when you come," he haughtily commanded, his voice thick.

His fingers were too focused, his touch too good, and you were so, so deprived of intimacy. With a few more circles, rubs, and kisses, you felt the words tumbling off your lips, the coil wound too tight as your neglected cunt soaked his fingers with appreciation.

"I deserve this!" you shouted into the cerulean sky, Aegon's digits working you through your climax. "I deserve this, I deserve this, I deserve this," you rambled, your body having a mind of its own.

"You do, little one," he praised. "Let them hear it. Let them know your worth."

"I deserve this," you mewled one last time, nodding your head against the side of his resting on your shoulder, looking like the many cats of the Keep marking their scent. Aegon peppered you with kisses as you inhaled gulps of air. Your legs twitched, and you struggled to stand as the aftershocks subsided, held by only the Prince's strength.

It was impossible to think clearly, to fully grasp what had happened. The months, perhaps even years of negligence you spent with self-pleasure, finally coming to a rearing head, clouding your mind. The consequences of your actions failed you. Your only thoughts of how Aegon slowly dropped to his knees, pulling your skirt higher as he looked up with a mischievous yet admirable look in his violet eyes, his mouth latching onto your puffy cunt with a grin.

"One more," he murmured, his moist breath tickling, "I just need one more."

***

Aegon had lied. He did not only pry one more climax from you but three in total. Once on the terrace, back draped over the railing, your hair hanging over the ledge. The second time underneath the caring disguise of wiping away the slick from your core, only to be met with his middle and ring finger inside your tight velvet walls, and finally, the third, with a combination of his tongue and digits.

You knew you shouldn't have trusted the boy. Aegon was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms for having an appetite that no amount of whores, food, or wine could satisfy. You didn't realize it extended to another's pleasure also. Your bones were made of the Apple Muse you adored by the end, your muscles so weak from the rapid tensing and untensing as he ripped those little deaths from you. 

When all was said and done, the whore of a Prince took great care of you, ensuring your throbbing cunny was clean from both your fluids, and servants brought a pitcher of water.

You were drifting asleep, an action you knew was unwise to do with Aegon around. The possibility of waking with the intrusion of his cock inside your wall was at the forefront of your mind. That fear was the only thing that kept you from drifting off when your body all but screamed for it. You took to speaking with him to distract yourself from rest, reminding him with mumbles that you promised Helaena that you would dine with her tonight. Aegon would have to play the husband's role again and see his children.

It was always difficult to return to Helaena knowing what you had done with him but not the guilt an adulteress would have. Yours was different. Shame that you were playing a game with her husband, knowingly partaking in these acts of scandal towards a goal and not for the pleasure of it. You did not know which was worse.

You were sure that Helaena would not be upset for your actions as a typical Lady Wife would, for she didn't love him like one. You supposed she would be grateful for what you were doing, keeping him away from the Silk Streets, gambling houses, and fighting pits. Ensuring there were no more bastards than there already were running around in Kings Landing. Well, that was what you convinced yourself, at least so you could look at the People's Princess without your sins written across your face.

The timber of Aegon's voice tickled your ear, snapping open your eyes that you didn't realize were closed. "I had the maids tell Helaena that we shall dine in my rooms tonight," he chuckled to himself, pecking you on the cheek with a grin, "since you are in no shape to make the journey to her's."

You nodded, unable to protest, and pushed yourself against the headboard to make yourself more alert. Aegon scooted into place beside you, resting his head on your shoulder while he played with the rings on your fingers. 

You still couldn't process what happened; disappointment was the only thing you could feel. The heavy-weighing claws of it tugging on your heart and dragging it into a bottomless dark pit, constantly carrying, pulling, weighing down on you until you felt the searing pricks of tears in your eyes. 

You had let yourself down and succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh that had ruined so many great men in history. You promised to focus only on Aegon and his desires, and wrongfully, you thought it would be easy. You had anticipated that the Prince was like all other men with sex, only seeking their release, and hadn't planned for him to seek yours out. By all accounts, Aegon had been just that. 

This was the first moment he had wanted you to reach ecstasy during your entire stay. The most Aegon ever begged for was a glimpse of your tits and cunny, working himself in his own hands during the process. Where had the sudden urge to pleasure you emerge from? 

Perhaps the plan was going better than you thought. It's only natural for a man to desire a woman's warm embrace eventually. Still, you hadn't realized it would come at the unreciprocating hands of Aegon the Drunk and only for him not to want something in return. You had long ago made peace with the fact that you would endure the tearing of your maidenhead by him and expected nothing more to bear but this... Aegon had opened something locked tightly inside of you, and your mind could not understand it, so it found the only thing it did: hatred. Not hatred towards the eldest Prince but toward yourself. 

You loathed yourself for what you did, what you allowed. You would understand the reasonings behind the act if it was only once, but you had allowed Aegon to take, take, take from you, willingly, knowing your morals. It was your fault for what happened. There was no one to blame but yourself. 

You searched desperately for anything to justify what happened. Did it bring the unsung heir closer to you? No. You would've had the same results if you had just let him rape you. It further helped make Aegon realize he wanted to be with you more than having riches? No. The climax after edging him ten times would make him learn that. What was the justification? 

You hadn't realized your chest began to pant, alarming the Prince beside you to look over in concern. You felt sick at the sight. His perfectly chiseled marble face staring at you with his amethyst eyes twinkling with rising worry, and you rolled off the bed, stumbling. Your body shook, shoulders tensed to your ears as your fists trembled, pacing aimlessly across his room. Succinct gasps left your quivering lips, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. 

Aegon watched with horror as you ran back and forth across the length of his bed chambers like a caged animal. He had no idea what to do, trying to call out to get your attention but receiving no response. Your hands go to your ears, trying to block out the sounds of a near-silent room as you hiccup. 

Suddenly, the ground beneath Aegon shuddered with a bone-rattling shake, quickly glancing down and then up to see the dust from his ceiling falling to the floor. An ear-bursting roar boomed through the entirety of King's Landing, causing the filled cups of his room to vibrate in their place. He felt the stone floor shake again with the moving of the dragon's footsteps, no doubt belonging to Cannibal. 

Aegon ran to you swiftly at your dragon's second room, seeing the edge of orange flames and smoke rising in the sky from his opened balcony doors. He knew of the bond a rider and their mount possessed, having witnessed it with his own Sunfyre when he too was upset, but never at this length. Cannibal was wild and still barely tamed, unaware of the social norms humans had that the others of his species understood. More roars sounded, but softer this time, as if they were in the distance. Aegon ignored them, focusing on trying to pry your digits that had wound themselves into your braided hair, your scalp blanched and roots nearly showing. 

He said your name first, attempting to gather your attention from where it had run off, but that didn't work. Nothing worked. No amount of cooing and soothing, as one would do to a child, made it past your deaf ears. Aegon began to narrowly mirror your panic, his eyes wide as he searched desperately to find a way to calm you down. He had never seen you in such a state, nor anyone else for the matter, and felt the sting of tears gather in his eyes. 

"Please, speak to me," he beseeched, voice thick with fear. "I've no clue how to help you." 

Your pacing ceased when your slippered foot caught on the misplaced leg of a stool, falling to the ground with a strangled yelp that Cannibal seemed to mimic. Aegon took this time to fall onto the floor next to you, gathering you into his arms as you flailed and booted like a lamb stolen from its Mother. Before he could think better of it, Aegon slapped his hand over your mouth, recalling how he saw a stableboy do that with a spooked colt. 

You squirmed and wriggled like a wounded rabbit caught in a snare, screaming like one into his palm as your blunt nails scratched across his cheek. Aegon ignored the stinging, using every ounce of strength he accumulated from training, brawling, and fucking to hold you down, nearly escaping him twice before he laid you underneath him, arm wrapped around your stomach on the icy stone floor. He pinned you there until your struggling ceased, the rapid flaring of your nostrils coming to a halt. 

When Cannibal's midnight wings flapped in the air, Aegon knew you were calm, feeling secure enough to release you with the gentle draw of his hands. He let you rest there for what felt like ages, scrutinizing every involuntary twitch of your muscles lest he have to repeat himself. The call of Arbor Red was firm in his veins, but he disregarded it, shuffling until his back hit something to rest on. 

The first words out of your mouth were not what he expected, sounding so small and defeated, causing him to pause before he understood briefly. "I must fix my hair before Princess Helaena arrives. Do you have a brush?"

Aegon silently nodded before he realized you could not see him, your cheek still pressed into the floor and facing away. "Yes," he answered aloud, bumbling over to his rarely used oak vanity. 

He handed the silver brush as you sat upright and took apart your maids' handy work, fixing the style into something more straightforward and placing the pearl pins accordingly. Aegon observed with caution, keeping at least ten paces from you as if you were a rabid beast. You didn't fault him for it, nor dislike it, simply too numb to feel. 

"Is it all right?" You startled Aegon, him taking a moment to realize that you were speaking. 

"Of course," he nodded eagerly though you couldn't see, and you hummed in assent. 

"The servants should be near done setting the table. We should wait for Helaena and the children there," you stated blandly, rising from your kneeled position and smoothing your dress. 

Aegon agreed noiselessly, leading you to his solar as cautiously as he could, watching for any sign that he might lose you again, but there weren't any. Ony the cold countenance of apathy that he had only seen once before when staring at the severed head of your kin. The expression haunted him to this day, guilt rising in his throat like the burning feeling of acid, taking an armchair a respectable distance away. 

Masterlist of Series

Once again, I'd like to thank you for your patience during my break. I lived in my George R. R. Martin era, but don't worry; this series won't take 27+ years to finish XD. For some reason, this post won't let me upload my full taglist, so I did it as a reblog in case you wondered why it's different. According to my idea chart, we're a little under halfway through the story, but honestly, it doesn't even feel like it. There are so many things ahead. It's just mind-boggling. Like, there's one point where shit hits the fan, and it's like, "whaaaat". I want to spoil it because it's crazy, but I shall keep my lips sealed. Anyway, thank you so much for reading this chapter and continuing this journey with me!!

Also, did you like my Miss Congeniality reference hidden in there? XD

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon the second #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen #aegon ii smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii fic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #arryk cargyll #helaena targaryen #game of thrones #hotd alicent #hotd helaena #alicent hightower #his love fanfic

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Stowaway Cloak (2/3)

Characters: Stephen Strange, Reader - platonic

Warning: None.

Summary: You return to visit an old friend but find that something has hidden itself in your suitcase.

Miniseries - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

The party seemed louder than any battle that you had fought and you somehow had found yourself in the circle of the Mayor who was chatting up a storm about scientific funding. You had been trained in the mystic arts and knew how to hold yourself in a situation of torture but you weren’t prepared to endure an endlessly boring conversation that was undoubtedly wasting your time.

Having been feigning interest and politeness for a good twenty-two minutes, you excused yourself and engaged in conversation with another circle of elites who talked about cellular regeneration which slightly peaked your interest – completely deafening you to the loud thump that came from the room above the party hall.

The Cloak of Levitation had promised to stay put but when a shimmering red spark turned into a portal, it peered through the hood of the suitcase and watched quietly as a pair of black-dusted boots landed on the floor with a loud bang. 

The intruder treaded carefully to a corner of the room and as their back was turned to the door, the cloak silently slipped out of the case and under the thin crack.

“It’s highly theoretical at this very moment but we’re close to achieving an actual scientific break-through.” One of the scientists said back at the party and was appraised by his circle of socialites. 

You nodded with the others and raised your glass of champagne. “I’ve heard of a place that’s already achieved such a feat.” You chuckled, causing the group to fall quiet in the hopes that you’d further an explanation.

Just as you realised what you had just insinuated and thought about how to fix this conversation without revealing secrets, a bright silver gleam hit your eye. Looking over to where it came from, your heart stopped when you saw the Cloak hiding behind a wall.

“You were saying Y/n…?” Another doctor wondered, forcing you to snap back to the circle of people who were still waiting for you to speak.

“Oh, I was saying that I’ve heard of a place but the reporter on the story was said to be fired the very next day due to it being false.” You covered with a shrug. “Some people will do anything for a story, right?”

The merry band of men and women raised the glasses and laughed at your comment in agreement, resuming their drinking and topics of medical breakthroughs while you set your glass down on the nearest table and excused yourself.

Making a mad, yet subtle, dash over to the Cloak, you sighed once you were out of ear-shot and sight. “I thought I told you to-”

You were unable to finish the scolding as the red fabric coiled around your wrist and pulled it up the staircase and back towards the room.

You were just a little way away from the door when the cloak stopped you in your tracks and tapped over where you had hidden your sling ring on a chain around your neck.

Putting the pieces together, you knew that something dangerous had set foot in the home and that the Cloak was attempting to protect the lives that laughed beneath them.

You slipped on the relic that allowed you to open portals and took in a deep breath. You stepped forward but instead of touching the wooden floor panels, you were lifted into the air by the Cloak as it carried you to the doorway like a magic carpet, despite being slightly crooked and unstable.

You raised your hand to the door handle and turned it as you swung the panel open and instantly summoned the mirror dimension. The decision turned out to be a wise choice as you were met with a zealot who followed in Kaecilius’ mad plans of destruction.

The zealot turned and tossed the book he held on the floor. “Where is the cloak?” He demanded.

You stepped off and brought the cloak up to be displayed. “Right here.”

The zealot took a step forward and you forced the cape behind the wall of the Mirror Dimension for its protection, sealing it out.

“Give it to me.” The zealot demanded which only made you laugh at him.

Clearly, he didn’t know what you were capable of. Taking a step forward, you ignored the banging on the invisible wall by the cloak and smiled at the enemy.

“If you so much as touch a thread – I’ll end you.”

The zealot smirked at the confidence and leapt forward, summoning a red-axe almost instantly and swinging it at your head. You anticipated the attack and created a gold shield that had started to show streams of white to keep you from being torn in half. 

Once the axe hit the shield, you exerted enough energy to throw the zealot backwards into your bookshelf. Hopefully no one was missing your absence below.

Miniseries - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #theladyofmanyfandoms #gif is not mine #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor stephen strange imagine #doctor stephen strange x reader #dr strange imagine #dr strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #sorcerer supreme imagine #sorcerer supreme x reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

[thewulf]

Hi! Not sure if you accept requests for celebrities but figured I’d send it anyway!!! Would you be able to do a miles tellers reader where they meet in San Diego while he’s filming but she doesn’t recognize him at all and doesn’t know he’s in a relationship and is having issues. But they somehow end up together??

Thank You Kind Stranger || Miles Teller

A/N: This was a fun one! Def made me step out of my comfort zone. Sorry it took so long. I have a class that just started up, so I’ll be posting a bit slower. Hopefully you enjoy 😊

Pairing: Miles Teller x Y/N

Word Count: 5,500+

Stepping out of your apartment you took a deep breathe in, enjoying the salty air you had come to love. You weren’t originally from San Diego, but a job offer and a few years of living in the city you had officially called it home. You had always dreamed of living near the beach. Growing up, your family would take a beach vacation to somewhere new every year. You grew to love these vacations and associated the beach with some of the happiest times in your life. Always seeing yourself on the coast you never dreamed of ending up in San Diego, nonetheless you loved it.

You found yourself an incredible group of friends. It took a while, but you weaseled your way into their group. They took you in like the stray you were.

Your only issue with the city was how crowded it always was. You thought you knew what you were getting into moving to a tourist destination, but you were sorely mistaken. Places that should be five minutes away take at least twenty to get there. It was an adjustment. One you were still trying to figure out.

Your solution to this problem was to do your weekly errands at the weirdest times. That’s how you ended up in a grocery store at 11 PM on a Saturday night shopping for your weekly essentials. Headphones in you started browsing up and down the aisles only grabbing what you needed.

Everything was going smoothly up until you made it to the flour. Frowning, you realized the only flour left was on the top shelf all the way in the back. One of the drawbacks of shopping at this time? The shelves were never fully stocked. It was a give and take but for your sanity it was worth it. You needed that damn flour too. It was in almost all of your recipes for the week.

Looking up and down the aisle you made sure the coast was clear. Your first attempt was to jump and reach which ended in abysmal failure. Huffing you took a step back trying to reevaluate the situation and come up with a better solution. You realized your only two options were to either climb the shelves or to find an employee. You certainly weren’t going to go find an employee to ask, that defeated the whole purpose of shopping this late.

So, you opted to scale the shelves. Carefully you stepped on the bottom shelf making sure not to crush any of the food in your way. Still, you were too short to reach. Just before you were about to take the next step up you heard somebody clearing their throat from behind. Shit. You’ve been caught.

Realizing you probably looked like an idiot standing frozen on the grocery store shelf you slowly peeled yourself away. Gaining courage, you finally turned around seeing a strikingly handsome man standing there looking at you with an amused expression.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Smiling sheepishly at the man you rubbed the back of your neck out of sheer embarrassment.

“No?” He questioned before continuing, “It looks like you were trying to reach the flour?”

You continued smiling at him, this time your eyes going wide, “Well, it’s exactly what it looks like then.”

“Need some help?” He asked walking closer to you. He towered over your shorter frame. Damn, he smelled good too.

“Actually, I prefer to climb the shelves.” You wanted to continue the conversation, something very unlike yourself. That was why you were here at 11:30 at night, avoiding people.

He snickered, “You sure about that? Didn’t look like you were going to make it.”

“I’ll have you know…” You paused seeing how far back the flour was, you’d have to climb to the fourth shelf to get it. You needed his help. He had almost a foot on you, “I was definitely not going to be able to get it. I would love some help.” You grinned trying to play it off as cool as possible.

You finally got a good look at him when you turned back to admit defeat. He really was quite handsome. With dark curly hair topped with a pair of aviators he nodded, still chuckling at you, before going to get the flour for you. Curious, a pair of sunglasses this late at night. You wondered about the mustache, wasn’t too often a guy your age had one. It worked for him though.

It took all of your willpower not to ogle him as he stretched to reach it. You swallowed hard seeing how fit the man was. His arm muscles contracted as he brought the sack of flower down from the shelf, you tried looking away but were sure you had gotten caught staring. It wasn’t every day you came across a kind and handsome stranger man, your stupid brain just had to stare though.

He handed the flour to you with a smirk dancing on his lips, oh he definitely caught you staring, “Thank you kind stranger!” You gleefully took the flour from him ignoring the obvious tension, “You saved me from starving this week.”

He looked at you curiously when he handed it to you, not responding to your casual conversation.

“Well, thanks.” You tossed it into your cart getting ready to walk away, you never knew how to keep these conversations going.

“I’m Miles.” He stuck his hand out to you looking almost hopeful. Like he too wanted the conversation to continue.

Nodding you took his hand gently, “Y/N. Nice to meet you Miles. What brings you to the grocery store this late?” You asked, attempting to keep the conversation light. You were never very good at flirting with guys. Feeling stupid when they never flirted back with you, you often just simply opted for regular conversation.

Growing up with a house full of boys didn’t set you up for the success you thought it was. With two brothers and all of your cousins being boys, you didn’t have the girls needed to balance everything else. So, you grew up a true tom boy. It was the only way you knew hope to cope growing up around all boys. You constantly got shit for liking girly things, instead of dolls you opted for Legos. You just wanted to fit in with them.

You loved your childhood though. You were truly carefree, having the best of times running through neighborhoods like the hooligans you were. It was a blessing and a curse though. You were comfortable around men you just didn’t know how to flirt with them. Something you thought you’d pick up throughout the years, yet it never seemed to come naturally to you.

“Y/N.” He repeated under his breathe continuing to observe you. It wasn’t intense but you noticed, he was watching you for something, “What do you do?”

 “I’m a zookeeper. Work at the San Diego Zoo.” You answered him without skipping a beat.

“Really?” He perked up, fully peaking his curiosity now.

You nodded excitedly, “I work with the big cats. Mostly the lions, sometimes the jaguars and cheetahs.” People often found your work interesting, but Miles looked fascinated.

The two of you began walking down the next aisle, immersed in the conversation that had just begun, “Super casual.” He spoke admiring how calm you sounded about it all.

You shrugged picking up a box of cereal, “They’re gentle giants. I think my kitty at home is more of an asshole than the cats at the zoo.” You grinned thinking about your kitties. You loved them, more than people most of the time. They really were gentle giants, big sweeties.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

You laughed this time, “House cats are rude. But so funny. I wouldn’t ever dare live without one.” You stopped grabbing some oatmeal realizing he wasn’t exactly shopping like you were, “I’m sorry Miles, you don’t have to shop with me. You don’t look like you were prepared.” You pointed to his basket instead of a cart.

“Don’t sweat it. This is the first interesting conversation I’ve had in a while.”

Smiling you continued, not letting your self-consciousness stop you now, “Alright, what do you do?”

He paused for a brief second looking a little panicked, “I work in the film industry.”

“What?” You stopped looking him up and down, “Now that’s cool! Not that cats aren’t cool. They’re really actually quite neat animals. But that’s… cool.” You wanted to facepalm yourself for your inability to flirt.

“Shoot, I’d argue taking care of a lion is far cooler than what I do.”

“They don’t talk back which is nice.” You answered nonchalantly wanting to know more but he clearly wasn’t willing to share. You were thrilled he thought you were interesting enough to talk to though. You did not want to push him, so you decided not to dig.

He gave you a genuine smile, a beautiful one at that, “But they could eat you.” He countered.

“You’re not wrong about that one. My cats are far too lazy to even try it though.” You stifled a laugh thinking how Izu, your male lion, made you bring him his dinner the other day instead of going to go get it. They’re pampered, spoiled rotten babies but you love them with your whole heart.

“Your cats?” He questioned. He was digging for more, maybe you’d try a little harder later when he wanted to share.

You hummed in agreement with him, “Izu and Mallie. Brother and sister. We got them a few years back as cubs. I got to bottle feed them and all. Their mom was killed in an accident, and they needed a home. I’m just closer with those two than I am the others. I got to bond with them when they could sit in my lap.”

Miles was an attentive listener letting you ramble on about your job. To be fair, he had asked you a million and a half questions about the job. And you sure did love talking about it, so he let you. He found you extraordinarily fascinating. Even more fascinating to him was that you seemed to not have a damn clue who he was. He found that refreshing, so damn refreshing. You were talking to him like he was just another guy off the street.

You were pulling him in, and you hadn’t even realized it. By simply treating him like a normal human you had broken down a long standing wall he often never let crack. Miles couldn’t believe how normal a conversation with a pretty girl could be.

Truth be told. His ‘relationship’, if that’s what you could even call it, was in utter shambles. He started hooking up with a coworker on set from a previous film with no intentions of actually dating her. His publicist caught wind of his plans and essentially tied his hands and made him maintain a relationship with the woman. She wasn’t terrible she just wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted to be himself though and that wasn’t happening with any woman in Hollywood.

He wasn’t ever sure he would even be able to settle down now that his name had grown tenfold over the last few years. He was once in a long time relationship, but it blew up after never being able to see the poor girl. She broke up with him after the fiftieth time he had to cancel. He dated around here and there but was never able to find the one. People just used him for his fame and money. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to form a genuine connection with anybody again, people always wanted something from him.

So, chatting with you? It was absolute euphoria to him. He wasn’t lying when he said talking with you was the most interesting conversation he’s had in a while. Sure, being on set he was able to goof off and have fun with his coworkers turned friends every now and then. He knew there was no ill intent with the crew. He just craved an ounce of normalcy every now and then, which never seemed to come.

“Wait, you got to bottle feed lion cubs?” He asked. He thought you might just be the neatest girl he’s met in a long time. The way you described what you did for a living and the way you seemed to love it made him want to know so much more about you. He needed to know more.

“Mhmm! Let me show you a picture. They’re so precious.” You cooed scrolling through your photos to find them. Sure enough you found about a thousand or so pictures of the cubs, “That’s Izu and the pipsqueak beside him is his sister Mallie. She has stayed pretty small for a lion.” You pointed to the cubs grinning from ear to ear.

Miles could feel himself being sucked right into you. He knew he needed to make a move before you finished your shopping. He was sure he hasn’t smiled like this in a while, shooting was grueling.

“Why are you here so late?” He asked you the same thing as you had earlier.

Laughing you continued, “There’s a reason I’m a zookeeper. I try and avoid people. Most people don’t go grocery shopping at 11 o’clock on a Saturday night.

He laughed with you now, “You’re smart. I get to argue with people all day, every day.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a few apples, making sure to find the best ones, “God bless you for it. I’d lose my mind.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“You’re allowed to. That’s human.” Your eyes continued scanning the produce looking for the bananas, “Do you like what you do?” You questioned him this time, it was his turn. You were hoping he’d be more open to sharing now that you divulged half your life to him.

“I do. I really do. Love it actually. Most days are great. Just been a shit week.” He sighed, shoulders deflating a bit. He looked tired, exhausted even.

Forming a tight lipped smile you nodded, “I get it. Want to talk about it?” You questioned cocking your head to the side.

Shrugging he looked at you, “Do you really want to hear about it?”

“I do. You had me yapping this whole time, I’d like to know a little bit more about you Mr. Miles.” You responded while looking for the best bananas, finding it easier to converse when you weren’t staring right into each other’s eyes.

He liked you. He also knew he could grow to like you even more. You were beautiful, seemingly kind, and easy to hold a conversation with. You were kind of exactly what he was looking for. So, he let it go, letting you know just a little bit more about himself, “You know that saying, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong?”

Nodding your head, you turned to look at him, “Murphy’s Law!”

“Yes! That one.” He half smiled at you, admiring your excitement even though it was so late, “Every stunt went wrong this week, a guy almost fucking died. We lost an entire plane, poof up in flames. One of the actors got violently ill. I couldn’t perform…” He stopped his rant suddenly eyes wide realizing he would be giving away what he did, and he didn’t want to do that, not yet anyway, “I couldn’t perform my job because of all the mess ups. Filming is delayed already so that leaves us here in San Diego for who knows how long. Just a week from hell.” He groaned feeling a little relief offloading everything to the pretty girl he’s been talking to for the last forty five minutes.

You gave him the most bewildered look, “What the hell are you filming?” You paused realizing how insensitive that question was after he dropped all of that on you, “Sorry, that sounds like… a lot. That sucks Miles.” You were never great at giving advice. Especially when you had absolutely no idea just how massive it all was compared to your everyday simple life, “But on the bright side. More time in San Diego isn’t the worst. It’s a great little city!” You gave him your biggest and brightest smile hoping it’d cheer him up a bit.

“You’re right.” He admitted, “It’s not the worst. It’s actually pretty great. The women here are really pretty too.” He winked at you sending a fiery flushness to your face.

You tried coming up with anything to say. Something. But your mind went blank. It was like you had forgotten the entire English language in a millisecond. Your lips opened and closed making you look like a fish out of water.

“Thank you though,” He smiled sensing you inability to form a sentence, “Believe it or not, it’s nice to hear that sometimes.”

“Anytime. Glad I can help. Even just a little.” Words finally came back to you. 

Miles was sent into a mild panic realizing you had finished up your task at hand, you were walking towards the registers. The two of you had barely chatted for an hour but he didn’t want you to disappear off into the night. He wasn’t dumb, there was something there.

“Do you want to grab a drink or something?” He broke the silence between you.

“Right now?”

He shrugged, “Why not?”

You bit your lip contemplating his offer. Why not? You didn’t have anything to lose. You weren’t tied down to anybody and it wasn’t often a beautiful man asked you out.

“There’s a bar right by my place. Let me drop all this crap off at home and I can meet you there?” You felt exactly what he was thinking. He was so handsome, and he wanted to get to know you. There was certainly something there, why not give it a chance.

You exchanged numbers. He waited with you while you checked out not even grabbing what he came in here for, deciding he’d just do it tomorrow.

He walked with you to your car. You knew you shouldn’t put this much trust into a stranger but you decided to throw caution to the wind, fuck it.

“Rosa’s at 12:30, got it?” You asked slamming your trunk shut after loading up the groceries.

“Got it ma’am. I’ll see you soon. You really are beautiful.” He cracked a smile as he sauntered off towards his car.

You were thankful the cover of night hid the blush that encapsulated your entire face.

“Now this is a dive bar.” Miles chuckled taking in his surroundings.

“I didn’t say it was a nice bar.” Grinning you looked around at the hole in the wall. Having so many incredible memories with friends you couldn’t help but to adore the place, “I love it here.” You clapped your hands in excitement, definitely not planning for your night to end up like this but enjoying where it was heading. You were fully expecting to go sit on your couch and watch a movie or something when you got home. This was a nice change, a welcomed one. Your life had gotten so boring and monotonous, he was something different and exciting.

“Is it the beer all over the floor or the mold growing over in the corner that does it for you?”

Almost choking on the beer you were sipping on, you shot him a look, “Hey!” Laughing you composed yourself, “Film boy too good for Rosa’s?”

Shaking his head, he leaned closer to you in the booth you were chatting at, “Never too good.”

“That’s what I thought.” You shot him a wink feeling more and more comfortable the longer you spent around him. You too leaned into the table feeling exactly what he was, that pull, “So, what’s your story Miles?” Leaving the question open for ambiguity you hoped he would divulge even just a little to you.

He thought about telling you exactly what he did. Knowing full well he was playing with fire by not telling you. Luckily, the cover of night and your strategic choice of dive bar was keeping him well hidden from any recognition. He fully knew he’d have to tell you sooner rather than later because he certainly planned on seeing you again.

“What would you like to know?” Raising an eyebrow, he flipped the question back to you.

You eyed him as subtly as you could, so curious about this mysterious man, “Well, how’d you get into film?” Starting off with an easy one you took a long, slow sip of beer hoping he’d just give you something.

Clearly reminiscing he smiled thinking just how he got into it, “Honestly?”

You nodded waiting for him to go on.

“The drama teacher at my high school was fine as fuck.”

For the second time in a span of ten minutes you almost choked, not expecting that answer, “You know, that’s the best answer I could’ve gotten.” You didn’t stifle the laugh that came out. He was just getting better and better every time he said something.

He joined in on your laughter feeling elated. There was something about the way you presented yourself that eased him, he felt like he could be his full honest self with you. He didn’t feel like he needed to be prepped when it came to conversing with you.

He had a big problem though, the coworker turned fake girlfriend would be rather hard to explain to you. He was fully aware of just how unfair that would be to both you and her. He didn’t hate her at all, quite the opposite actually. They had grown close as friends, deciding they would rather suffer through it together. Each time they had to go out as a couple though it got harder to fake the lovesick eyes.

Knowing you were rather frazzled he thought it best not to bring it up tonight. Maybe on the next date. Definitely on the next date.

He smiled at you, quickly getting addicted to your laugh, “She was a fox,” He shrugged continuing, deciding to give you the vague details, “And she was good at her job. I got accepted into NYU and graduated with a BFA. I got lucky though and broke into the industry right after school.”

Nodding your head, you took everything he said in. He seemed like he was still not telling you everything which was fine, you couldn’t expect everyone to be as open as you were, “I think that’s amazing. I don’t know many artsy people. Everything is so technical when it comes to animals surprisingly. And all my friends here are either zookeepers or engineers. The conversations can get really thrilling.” Sarcasm was dripping off your voice as you spoke.

“And smart people intimidate me, touché.” He held his glass up waiting for you to cheers with him. You obliged laughing softly at the man who was absolutely riddled with one liners. He was so subtly funny you knew you would be laughing constantly if this were to go further.

“I didn’t say I was smart!” Feeling all too joyful your cheeks were starting to hurt from the smile you’d been holding for a while, “I just have a bunch of smart friends.”

“I don’t think you can do what you do without being a little smart.”

Shrugging you responded, “I just like big cats. Would I know anything you’ve worked on?” You changed the subject back to him. It’s not like you didn’t like receiving compliments it’s that you didn’t know how to receive them. You clammed up getting all awkward. The best way to avoid it was to change the subject.

He bit his cheek suppressing the smirk that so desperately wanted to come out. No, of course not or you’d recognize him instantly. He knew his time was running up, it was a good few hours of normalcy. You were just too curious to let it go, “Don’t think so. I’ve worked on more obscure films.” Lie, a little white lie.

“I’ll be honest with you Miles, I’m not the biggest movie or tv person. I don’t think I’ve been to a movie since I lived at home with my parents like 10 years ago.” You admitted. Of course, you watched a few movies every now and then, but you never got into it like others did. Only going to see the blockbusters you certainly weren’t going to see obscure movies. You liked the big blockbusters, but you could never get into them like the Harry Potter or Marvel fans could.

He nodded understanding you a little more now, “Nothing wrong with that, lots of great films out there though.”

“I’m more of a book person but I believe you. What’s the biggest movie you’ve worked on?” Again, changing the subject back to him.

“Are you going to go watch it?” He leaned even further into the table, your hands nearly touching.

“Of course, I am.” You answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He pondered for a moment. Knowing that if he continued his lie you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. His time was up. Which one did he want you to watch though? Divergent was a little cringy, meant for teenagers. Whiplash was intense but one of his favorites. The Spectacular Now was easy but again, meant to teenagers. He was surprised you hadn’t seen any of them.

“Have you heard of Whiplash?” He finally answered you.

Shaking your head back and forth, “Nope. What’s it about?”

“A drummer.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t want to give away too much.” He looked sure of himself.

“Okay,” You paused taking another long drink of beer, “I’ll watch it tomorrow. And what was your part in it?”

There it was. He could no longer dance around the subject. He had to tell you. Whatever this was, was likely over. He enjoyed every second of it though, the pure normalcy of it all though, “That’s a great question Y/N.” He delayed the inevitable for a few seconds.

“Chock full of them.” You grinned hoping he’d answer you.

Sighing he set his beer down taking a good long look at you, “Full disclosure. I’m one of the leads.”

You weren’t sure what your face looked like. If there was one thing that you would change about yourself it’s how expressive your facial expressions are. You were your emotions right on your face. The bug eyed look you were giving him surely wasn’t the cutest, “Like as in lead actor?”

The slightest nod and the smallest smile confirmed your question, “Yes.”

“But you said film. I thought you meant like an operator or something.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes. How embarrassing. You were less concerned that you spent the night with one but more so that you had no idea who he was.

He noticed your reaction. How you leaned back into your seat, pulling away from him. How you tensed up so slightly. How you wouldn’t look at him, staring at the bartender instead.

“I left a few details out.”

“A few?” You finally looked back to him not really believing you had managed to find yourself in this situation. It suddenly clicked as to why he was acting to weird and vague. He must’ve been a lot more famous than you initially thought. Fuck, why you? Why couldn’t he have just been an insanely hot man that found you interesting?

“Small details.” Cracking a small smile, he thought you were handling this remarkably well. Way better than he would’ve if he was in your shoes.

Realizing how insane the whole situation was you spat out the first thing that came to mind, “What are you filming here then?” It was still hard to meet his gaze. As comfortable as you felt with him earlier, it’d all vanished. Feeling insecure and slightly embarrassed you played with the water rings your glass was leaving instead of looking to him.

“It’s an action movie.”

“A secret?”

“Afraid so.” He didn’t take his eyes off you. Desperately wanting you to look back at him, even just for a second.

“Cool,” You took a deep breathe finally working the courage up to look at him, “I’m sorry… I.” You paused again tripping over yours words.

Cocking his head to the side he studied you. He wasn’t expecting you to apologize, “What for?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you…” You were in your own head. Completely frazzled. Why would he take his time and spend it with you, a random girl in a grocery store?

He rapidly shook his head, “No, no don’t apologize. Please don’t apologize.” He reached for your hand confusing you some more, but you let him. Your brain wasn’t processing anything at normal speed, “Y/N. This has been one of the best nights I’ve had in… forever. Since I’ve started doing this.” He admitted to you not wanting you feeling guilty in the slightest.

His hands were soft you noticed as he played with your own. You didn’t think your heart could keep up with what was going on. A combination of nerves and realization was sending you into a frenzy. Weren’t you just complaining about having a boring life? This certainly spiced things up.

“Okay,” You gulped looking back to him once more, “I take back what I said earlier. Your job is definitely the coolest then.”

The breath he was holding in finally released in the fit of laughter you had sent him in. He felt the relief wash over him. Maybe you wouldn’t run away just yet.

He squeezed your hand in his sending a slight shiver down your arm, “It has its perks. And its drawbacks. But I don’t want to talk about that.”

“No?” It finally clicked as to why he didn’t want to talk about it. You realized he probably liked not being recognized, not being treated like a god walking on water. You bullshited around with him like he was a random man in a grocery store. He wanted to spend time with you because you treated him like a normal person.

“Nah, let’s talk about something else.” He left it up to you. Maybe he shouldn’t have though, you were back in your head. What the hell were you supposed to talk to a famous actor about?

“What’s your favorite animal? You know mine, I never asked yours.” You too timidly spoke to him. Nervous you were going to do something wrong.

His smile told you otherwise though, “A monkey.”

“Interesting. Favorite sport?” You continued feeling like he had finally given up the mysterious act. Everything was in the open now.

“Football, is this twenty questions?”

“You left it up to me! So yes Miles, it is twenty questions.” Scrunching your nose, you were starting to relax again, feeling oddly normal around him even after he dropped that mini bomb on you.

He chucked, “Fair play. What’s yours?”

“To play, volleyball. To watch, football.”

He eyed you again curiously, “You like football?”

“Mhmm, can’t grow up in the Midwest and not love it.” You smiled thinking of the good old days. Your dad would cook up a feast on college football Saturdays and on NFL Sunday’s you’d all eat the leftovers. You cared far too much about games you couldn’t impact but you loved it. You loved the shit talking it inevitably led to between your family. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Favorite team?”

“Unfortunately, the Bengals.”

He gave you a look of pity, “That is unfortunate.”

“Rude.”

The two of you continued your bickering conversation throughout the rest of the night, never seeming to miss a beat. You forgot who he was in the midst of it all, falling back into the most casual of conversations between the pair.

Feeling terribly disappointed when the bartender called for last round he could sense your hesitation. You weren’t sure what the next steps were. Did he want to see you again? Did you want to see him again?

He walked you to your apartment in a comfortable silence, bonus of only being five minutes away from the bar. You unlocked your door turning to him, “I had a good night Miles, really.”

He took your hand for the second time that night, giving it another squeeze, “I did too, really.” He repeated you sending your heart rate up a bit, “Busy tomorrow?”

You were excitedly surprised he wanted to do this again so soon, “I do have a movie to watch.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Eight it is.”

#miles teller #tgm #tgm fandom #tgm cast #top gun #top gun rooster #miles teller x reader #miles teller x y/n #miles teller x you #top gun maverick #dagger squad #top gun fiming

[sea-owl]

Back to the Back from the Dead au here's part one if you want to read. Link

Violet's old friends are all so confused about how twenty plus years have passed. According to them, they were only gone a year. The ship they were on had crashed. They were the only survivors and had been stranded on an island. They said they learned to survive.

They ask Violet about their siblings. They had tried to find them when they got back to London but no one told them anything of use. Finally, they asked about her, which led them to the Bridgerton house.

Violet could only stare sadly. "I'm sorry, but they've all died."

A mixture between acceptance, shock, and horror strung across their faces.

But now Violet has come to a new realization. With the death of their siblings, this puts Simon as the new Duke, and should something happen to George Crane or John Stirling, Phillip and Michael's nephews, this marks them as heir to their families. But who would believe that after twenty years the lost siblings have come home and never aged?

"We'll need some help from what to do here," Violet said. She sends four missives out. They should all be in London and can meet at the Bridgerton house tomorrow. "For now you eight can stay here."

She tells Cook of the last-minute additions for dinner that night. Now the next challenge will be Violet's children.

"My children are all the same age as you," Violt tells them. All eight of them make a face. To them Violet was just the same age as them a year ago, now her kids are their ages? They all glance from themselves to Violet. "We'll have to come up with a story."

They settle on them being there is a not subtle attempt from Violet to match make her children. Their eight guests are all relatives from Violet's friends who are new to London and just came back from a Grand Tour.

Violet's jaw drops when her children show actual interest in their guests.

She's had to grab her three oldest boys by the ears at almost every ball to get them to even dance with some of the girls there. Anthony is pulling out every move he has learned from being a rake on Kate, who is talking to him like he was her old corgi. Benedict has somehow managed to sneak a sketch book into Violet's dinning room and has been not so secretly sketching Sophie as monopolizes her attention on him. Colin is hanging off every word Penelope says, the girl's shyer nature slightly took over so she brought out a journal to help with conversation. Colin's eyes sometimes drifting from the journal to Penelope's chest.

Violet's oldest three daughters are no better either. Daphne has not taken her eyes away from Simon since Violet introduced him. Eloise has started her own way of flirting by asking Phillip every question she can think of when it comes to plants. Francesca has never giggled as much as Violet saw when she was talking to Michael.

The only two of her children who were not outright flirting was Gregory and Hyacinth, and even then Violet thinks it has more to do with their age than anything else. Because the way they are looking at Lucy and Gareth there is no other way Violet can interpret it besides her babies' first crushes.

Violet has no idea what to make of this situation. Her children are finally showing an interest in potential courtships, but why did those potential courtships have to be Violet's old but still somehow young friends? She's conflicted, on the one hand Violet knew these people when she was young, on the other hand they are still young with the bodies and minds of people much younger than Violet's current age. What to do what to do? The other ladies needed to hurry up and get here so they can plan.

#poor violet #she needs help #bridgerton #kathony #benophie #polin #saphne #philoise #franchael #grucy #hyareth #back from the dead au

[allefendra]

Chapter 1

Although the bonfire roaring in the town square obfuscated the sky, the sparkling array of the galaxy was still clearly visible to the sharp eyes of Dema Simondred. Her distinctive eyes reflected the warm glow of the flame with an inhuman, almost predatory shine, which only served to make the mustard-colored rings around her irises more apparent, but her skin, deep as coal, seemed to swallow the light. As a subservient canine might, she bared her vulpine grin to any passerby who glanced in her direction, earning her at best a muted scowl and at worst an unconcealed glare. The crumbling cobblestones beneath her bare feet felt cool despite their proximity to the flame. She wiggled her toes in a feeble attempt to draw warmth to them. 

Something hard and sharp struck her between the shoulder blades and she pitched forward, windmilling her arms instinctively to keep her face from plowing into the ground. Her numb toes bent and flexed against the edges of the stones, and she thanked the stars her feet had already gone numb. With an involuntary grunt, she straightened, pretending not to be bothered by the now throbbing wound on her back. Slowly, she turned to face her assailants, aware already that she could do nothing to prevent their assault.

A group of children, none of which was old enough to be off their mother’s apron strings, giggled mischievously as she raised a rounded brow at them. One clutched a rough chunk of stone in one hand, a slingshot in the other, but dropped the rock nervously as soon as she directed the full force of her glare upon him. On the opposite side of the square, adults mingled with mugs of ale or spice wine in their gloved hands. None took notice of the scene unfolding. 

Dema estimated the oldest of the bunch to be of maybe nine or ten winters, a wiry child wearing a pair of shoes riddled with holes and a dress stained with myriad colors. The girl held her nose much too high for one of her station, though Dema’s own station couldn’t be said to be more than slightly superior. 

“You have had your fun,” Dema growled, “now be off.”

The oldest advanced, proving herself to be the leader of her ragtag gang. “We take no orders from you, Dema the Demon!” she sneered, somehow holding her nose even higher than before. “We will leave when we feel like it!”

“Oh? You don’t fear the demon, then?” Dema replied calmly, running a hand over her bare scalp. “I could haunt your nightmares, you know. Now that I’ve had a good look at your face, your dreams would be easy to locate.”

The child blanched. “You’re bluffing! None can enter another’s dream!” 

Dema began to methodically stretch each muscle in her willowy frame, starting with her neck and going down. The children watched her anxiously, confusion plain on their faces. “Perhaps I am bluffing,” she said, a wicked smile spreading across her face, “and perhaps not. Regardless, I don’t need magic or trickery to deal with the lot of you. All I need are my two legs. I’m an honorable sort, so I will make this fair. I will give you to the count of twenty before I move. Use those twenty seconds as you will.”

The children scattered like leaves taken by the wind, a few squeaking cacophonous yelps, some down alleys, others toward the decrepit Forktongue Bridge, but all with the panic of the hunted. Dema smirked to herself, satisfied with her own ingenuity. Despite her lithe figure, she was actually a terrible runner, and she certainly wouldn’t have been able to catch even one of those children barefoot. Not only that, but she lacked the innate spark for Resonance, which was said to be endowed to no more than one in every thousand born. Demons, of course, were all born with Resonance, which is precisely why so many feared them, but “Dema the Demon” knew herself to be no demon at all. A child of foxfire, perhaps, but not a demon. Her lack of Resonance was proof enough for that.

She was still smirking when a rolling pin connected with her rump, startling more than injuring her. Knowing better than to respond, she stifled her grin and stood arrow-straight. She swallowed hard, producing an audible gulp. 

“Mother,” she said quietly, clasping her hands behind her back and staring intently at her bruised toes, “I thought you would be fast asleep by this late hour.”

“I thought the same of you,” Mistress Simondred snapped, tapping Dema again with her rolling pin. “You might be able to fool your father with a wad of hay stuffed under your blankets, girl, but I know better. I heard not a sound from your chambers this evening. Usually, by this time of night, you would be dreaming and squawking like a crow. I knew something was amiss when I heard not a peep.” She paused, inspecting Dema up and down. “And just where are your shoes? Did we not just purchase a pair of sturdy shoes from Mistress Yohan a week past?”

“Father would surely have noticed I left had I taken my shoes, Mother,” Dema said levelly, still fighting her wry smile. “This was the only way.”

“The only way to broken toes, I’d wager,” her mother grumbled, staring concernedly at Dema’s toes. “You’d best hope you can manage to work tomorrow on those feet.”

“I’ve faced worse.”

“I’m certain you have.”

The two stared at each other intently, evaluating each other in the way of two wolves. After a few seconds, Mistress Simondred sighed and wrapped Dema in her fleshy arms. 

“Oh, Dema,” she murmured, placing her free hand at the back of Dema’s head as she embraced her tightly, “you can’t imagine how I feel when I find your bed empty. I never worried so when I found your brother’s bed empty. Not until the morning I went to rouse him and the bed still lay empty. I still check your brother’s bed on occasion, when the longing strikes me too deeply and I lose my sense.” She pulled back so she could gaze into Dema’s eyes. “I cannot lose another child. I cannot. From now on, your bedroom will be warded in the evenings. I have no other choice. This foolishness has gone on long enough.”

“Mother!” Dema exclaimed, fury making her face appear even darker. “I will not accept this! I am not my brother.” “I’m sorry, Dema,” her mother said, a melancholy look in her gray eyes. “It can be no other way. These people have no sense. Today, they give you dirty looks. Tomorrow, they could give you a knife through your ribs. You trust too much.”

Dema felt a drop of something cold and wet strike her scalp. Automatically, her hand covered the top of her head, and another drop glanced off the knuckle of her middle finger. 

Mistress Simondred looked warily to the sky and shook her head with irritation. Her eyes looked wet in the firelight as she turned them to the sky. A melted snowflake, or tears? 

“Another of these snowstorms,” she groaned, and began rifling through the leather sack hanging from her belt pouch. “I tell you, this is Ribbin’s work. Who’ve heard of snowstorms in the ides of Verdance? Lucky for you, I’ve a hat for you somewhere in here. I’ll find it. But we truly must return home now before you lose those purple toes of yours to frostbite.” 

Warily, Dema tilted her head back, knowing she would see no stars and lamenting their loss. Only moments before, the stars had been strikingly bright against the black velvet carpet of the sky. Now, she could see nothing but the charcoal gray of thick, raging clouds. 

“Just a moment ago…” she began, but let herself trail off as she realized her mother wasn’t listening. Mistress Simondred was muttering to herself angrily, still searching for a hat in her absurdly large pouch. Large pouches had come into fashion, but no pouch around any waist in town rivaled the behemoth flopping at Mistress Simondred’s side. 

“Ah! Here it is!” she said triumphantly, drawing a black beret from the bottom of the sack. It was mildly crumpled and would need to be reshaped, but it didn’t really matter. By that time, the only villagers who might see her in adequate lighting would likely be drunk anyway. “Oh, Goddess above! This isn’t your hat! It’s your father’s!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dema replied, ignoring her mother’s hypocrisy. If she ever uttered an oath like that to the Goddess, her mother would wallop her hard with her rolling pin, or any other implement at her disposal. “It will keep my head warm either way. We’ve a long walk home and I’m getting colder by the second. Can we go, Mother?”

“Yes,” she answered, “but stay close to me. There are brigands afoot this time of evening.”

As soon as her mother turned away, Dema rolled her eyes dramatically. In all of Forktongue, she had encountered not a single brigand, unless one counted the cutpurse who had once sliced her belt pouch. Unfortunately for the cutpurse, the pouch was merely a fashion accessory and held no coin. In the world her mother imagined, a thief schemed in every side street, a conman plotted on every corner, and a murderer waited with bated breath in every shadow. It was a wonder her mother had mustered the courage to comb the streets in search of Dema that evening. With that thought, a surge of guilt washed over her, and she almost conceded to herself that her mother had been right to set a penance. 

“I’ll fetch you a hot brick for under your covers once we get home,” her mother said softly as they stepped into a particularly dark street. “You must be frozen to the bone.”

“I’m a touch chilled,” Dema lied.

“Why are you walking in that strange way? You look like a rod has been inserted in your spine.”

Dema looked at her from the sides of her eyes. “I hurt my back when I was working today. It feels better if I stand straight.”

“A pulled muscle, is it? Well, no matter. Tomorrow we’ll have our baths. I’ll massage your malady then. There’s no pulled muscle that can withstand a massage in hot water. Not when these hands are doing the massaging,” she said cheerily, gripping her rolling pin in both hands enthusiastically. She could have slipped the rolling pin into a fold in her apron, but she preferred to hold onto it whenever possible. 

“No!” Dema blurted sharply. Realizing her blunder, she adjusted her tone. “I mean, no. That’s not necessary. I am sure it will relieve itself in the night. Sleep cures many afflictions.”

“That is certainly true,” Mistress Simondred replied, though it was clear only half her mind was on the conversation. The other half was scouting the way ahead, ensuring no threats would impede them. “Just another mile,” she said to herself quietly, as though to soothe her own frayed nerves.

“Not a mile, Mother. Perhaps half a mile.”

Changing the subject abruptly, Mistress Simondred said with renewed anger, “What were you doing this evening, anyway? What would possess you to make such a rash choice?”

“I wanted to see the bonfire, Mother. Sorzen is always speaking of it. I just wanted to see it for myself. He claimed the flames climbed as high as the Mayor’s house is tall, but I know now it was just another of his tales.”

“I ought to box his ears, filling your head with such foolishness. I should have known Sorzen inspired you to this. I’ll be having words with his mother, mark me.”

“That isn’t necessary, Mother.”

“Isn’t it? He knows you can’t travel around as freely as others, yet he natters to you day and night of all the sights and sounds and smells you cannot have. He is no friend to you, girl. You’ll learn that one day.”

In silence, they continued on together. Dema was astounded when her foot touched the silky dirt of Wayward Path. Had they not, just an instant before, been surrounded by the squalor of the city? The dirt path, just as cold as the cobblestones before it, somehow cheered her, its familiar texture acting as a balm for her injured toes. The light layer of frost over the dirt only served to magnify its soothing effect. Her mother claimed the dirt of Wayward Path was the ashes of Resonants burned long ago in the city square, but Dema had met none who could corroborate the tale. In some ways, her mother was as histrionic and imaginative as Sorzen, though Dema would never say so to her face.

In the distance, Dema could make out the faint flickering of candlelight seeping out from beneath the canvas curtain that served as the front door of her family’s tiny domicile. A silhouette crossed back and forth across the entryway repeatedly, which made the light appear to flash. She could tell by the bulk of the figure that it was her father, a man often mistaken for a blacksmith with his wide shoulders and bulging biceps. Few outside of the business knew just how much muscle a baker could develop through the rigors of his or her routine. Even her mother, a woman round and soft all over, had a thick layer of muscle beneath her plump exterior from long days kneading dough or lifting trays of hot confections. 

“He’ll be as mean as a badger tomorrow,” Mistress Simondred said, smacking her rolling pin against her palm with irritation. “I told that man to take himself to bed. Why does he never listen?”

“I don’t know, Mother.”

“Not all men are of this nature, you must know. Some are quite excellent listeners, I hear.”

“Sorzen is a good listener.” 

Mistress Simondred shot her a grimace that would curdle fresh goat’s milk. “Sorzen is a rascal of questionable character. If he cared a whit for you, he’d listen less and talk more. He’d talk you out of your harebrained schemes, at the very least.”

Dema shrugged. “I was only citing an example.”

Her mother put the rolling pin into her apron for the first time that night and whirled to face Dema. “Now,” she said, “not another word of your foolishness. Your father is not pleased. I would suggest against your usual way. Say neither a word of Sorzen nor any others among your companions unless you’d like your father to visit each personally with a loaf of bread.”

Dema shivered, and not just from the cold. Her father, armed with only a loaf of his fresh bread, could convince almost anyone of anything. She trusted Sorzen, but not so much that she’d allow him to be tempted with a good rye or a sourdough. “Mother, I am sorry. Truly. I never meant to worry you.”

“I know it, girl. It’s your father who’ll need convincing,” she said in a hushed tone, now just outside the canvas flap. With a strong hand, she yanked the canvas aside, revealing the interior of their home.

Her father stared at her wildly and wiped sweaty palms on his apron. Wisps of hair stuck out in every possible direction, giving him the appearance of a man recently struck by lightning. He was standing in the center of the room, in front of the hearth, which was as cold and dead as the soil of the Wayward Path. The only light or heat came from a solitary tallow candle burning on the dining table. An ornately carved rocking chair in the corner of the room was the most exquisite of their furnishings, while the other furniture was obviously scavenged from some garbage heap. Her parents’ bed rested against the only wall with a window, which meant it was always quite chilly under those covers. Her bed was located in the only enclosed room in the hut, a blessing for which she rarely remembered to offer thanks. 

“Thank Allefendra, you’re alive!” her father boomed in a voice that reverberated off the adobe walls. He looked to be on the point of tears. “I thought...I thought…”

“I’m perfectly well, Father,” she said deferentially, lowering her head. The look in her father’s eyes was almost too much for her to bear. “I am sorry, but I had a good reason.”

“What reason was that?”

“I wanted – no, I needed to see the bonfire.”

Master Simondred threw up his hands in exasperation and plunked down onto the bed. It creaked under his mass. “I could scarcely breathe, Dema,” he growled, “I could scarcely move because you ‘needed’ to see a bonfire? If you wanted to waste your hours staring into a flame, we’ve candles aplenty. What you’ve done is deplorable. Despicable! How could you do this?”

Dema’s throat constricted. “I can’t continue living this way. I just can’t.”

“You’ll continue living this way, or you’ll not continue living at all!” he shouted, pounding a meaty fist into the quilt. “You shame your brother!”

Her face stung as though her father had just backhanded her. Tears sprang to her eyes, magnifying their eerie glow. She maintained her steady gaze on her father, refusing to disengage. Before she could speak a word, her mother placed a gentle palm on her forearm, forestalling her.

“You’re both exhausted,” her mother said placidly, as if placating a pair of scuffling toddlers. “This is a talk better had by the light of day.” Master Simondred started to speak, but she cut him off with a stern glare. “I’ve said what I’ve said and I expect you will obey. Both of you.”

Master Simondred shook his head in disgust. “It’s past time I started work. Dawn comes quickly.” He brushed off non-existent dust from his apron and adjusted the apron strings at the back of his neck. “Dema, you’ll be no good with the customers if you don’t sleep. Stella, you’ll need your rest as well. You can meet me in the morning.”

“Do you not think it would be best to open late?”

“Open late?” he scoffed, “I haven’t opened late in eight winters. I certainly won’t do so now.”

“Paitin,” Mistress Simondred pleaded, “you mustn’t do this. Truly, you ought not open at all tomorrow. I can’t imagine many customers will be in. Not with them all suffering the grog horrors. Besides, I could hardly see past my own fingers out there. It is cold as Ribbin’s breath. You’ve no need to be risking yourself out there. Which reminds me, light the hearth, you fool man! Have you not seen your daughter’s feet?”

He stared down at Dema’s feet, squinting. The light from the tallow candle was dimming each second. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “Indeed I had not! Dema, child, tell me you haven’t yet lost your new shoes. I expected those to last at least a year.”

“She didn’t take her shoes because you would have noticed they were missing,” Mistress Simondred replied in a mocking voice. “Clever like her father, down to the core.”

Master Simondred beamed for a moment before coming back to his senses. “I see.” He grabbed his wool cloak off a peg in the wall and draped it around his shoulders. It made him look like a lumbering boulder with a head. “I’ll light the hearth, but the two of you must get to bed. You ought to get in the same bed to share some heat,” he suggested. “Clean yourself up, girl. I’ll not have soot in my sheets.” He passed her a bucket of frigid water, sloshing a few drops in the process, that had been used to collect the rain which seeped through the thatch roof. He stalked out of the shelter, almost stomping.

She compliantly splashed the water over her shins and feet, trying not to wince at the temperature. She took note of a sharp pain at the edges of a toenail. She’d likely lose that nail. As she rubbed the water over her skin, her mother fetched a minuscule nub of soap and a dingy towel. She took it gratefully.

Mistress Simondred dabbed a second towel on Dema’s face. It wasn’t dirty, really, but she continued to wipe at her cheeks nonetheless. “There,” she said softly, pushing Dema’s face up with a finger under her chin, “now I can see that beautiful skin of yours.”

Dema fought off a snort. “I am glad at least you take pleasure in my demon skin.”

“You are not a demon!” her mother replied furiously, cupping both of Dema’s cheeks in her hands. “Look into my eyes! You are no such thing! Say it!”

“I am no such thing,” Dema answered, though her mouth, pinched as it was, struggled to enunciate the words. “I’m tired, Mother.”

“As am I. Slip off your dress and get in bed. Your shift will do for night clothes tonight.”

Ice cold and mentally numb with exhaustion, Dema fell into slumber immediately. Even as her father lit the hearth, she remained asleep. Her mother snuggled up beside her, grateful to share the warmth. From his rocking chair, Master Simondred regarded his sleeping wife and child with affection, noting the similarities in their features. Notwithstanding the stark contrast in their skin tones, Dema’s face was almost an exact copy of her mother’s. He rose, kissed each on the forehead, and trudged into the blizzard, all the while making a list in his mind of each chore and task that need be completed at the bakery.

#writing #original world #oc #fantasy #wip #novel #fantasy fiction #fiction #female lead #adult fantasy #dark fantasy

[the-oblivious-writer]

Pretty Girl |5|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Five: A Soggy Picnic

Summary: Your first date with Tara doesn't go as planned

Warning(s): Swearing

Notes: Last part of Pretty Girl! I appreciate all the support I've got on this series, you all are awesome

Previous Part

You knocked on Tara’s door, feeling a bit nervous– oh who were you kidding? You were extremely nervous. You’ve been wanting to take her out on a date for a while now and you were finally doing it. You would never forgive yourself if you somehow messed it all up.

The door opens to reveal Tara in a skirt and top, she looked absolutely stunning. You couldn’t pull your eyes from her. You shake your head slightly, trying to snap out of your trance. “You look amazing..” Tara’s face lit up and she smiled at you, “Thanks, Y/N. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She was also struggling to pull her eyes away. 

“Oh! These are for you,” you revealed the flowers that you were hiding behind your back and handed them to her. Tara happily took them, “These are lovely.” She briefly smelled them before noticing every single flower you had chosen to give her were her favorites. 

“Shall we?” You held out your arm for her to take, which she did. “We shall.”

—

It was raining. Of course it was. You had planned a picnic date, laying everything out on a blanket. Just when you and Tara start to get comfortable it starts down pouring. Luckily you brought an umbrella just encase but it still sucked. Within three minutes, most of the food was already unsalvageable.

“It’s fine, Y/N, really” Tara tried to reassure you but it was no use. “I should’ve picked an inside date, like the movies or something. I checked my Weather app like twenty times and not once did it say it was raining.”

You held the umbrella above Tara, not wanting her to get soaked on top of ruining your date. “I don’t mind getting a little wet,” she said before taking the umbrella from your hand and dropping it on the blanket.

“Wait, you’re gonna get it all soak–”

“And? I already told you I don't mind.–” she pulled you down by your collar until your faces were just centimeters away “—Besides, I’m here with you and that’s all I care about.” Her lips brushed against yours as she said this. Your eyes flickered down to her lips as she did the same to yours, you both leaned in until finally your lips touched.

Tara’s eyes closed shut as she enjoyed the kiss. You both melted into the kiss, your hands moving to her hips and her hands cupping your face. Both of you felt content and relieved, having waited what felt like forever. But if either of you were sure of anything, the wait was worth it.

You and Tara pull away from each other, your hands still on her hips and her hands still cupping your face.

“You’re a good kisser...” She said as she played with your collar. The both of you were still lost in each other's eyes, mesmerized by each other. “You’re not too bad yourself.” You replied with a smile, Tara mirroring it.

You had almost forgotten it was raining until the downpour picked up. “Shit, we should probably–”

“Yeah” you both gathered all your belongings and made it to your car, absolutely drenched. You shook your head in an attempt to get some of the water out of your hair. Tara did the same before taking off her jacket. “Damn, it’s pouring out there” Tara commented as she looked out of the window.

“Maybe a picnic date wasn’t my brightest idea” you said, still scolding yourself for your decision. Tara turned to you, looking you up and down before saying,“Believe or not this isn’t one of my worser dates. It was actually nice.”

“You’re just saying that cause I salvaged your favorite snacks.” You joked and Tara playfully rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Y/L/N.”

“But seriously, I want a redo.” You stated as you pointed your finger at her. What you didn’t expect was for Tara to grab the hand you rest on your thigh and hold it. But you weren’t complaining. “You’ll get your redo. And that’s a promise.” Tara leaned in and kissed your cheek.

“Now” — she gave your hand a light squeeze — “let’s go back, I’m in the mood for a movie night.” 

“Sounds good to me,” still holding her hand you started the car. Somewhere along the drive her hand made its way to your thigh, you chose not to say anything. Enjoying the warmth of her touch as you drove.

When you both got back to her place, nobody else was there so you didn’t have to worry about any interruptions. You and Tara changed into dry clothes and put on a movie to watch. You wrapped your arm around her as she laid her head on your shoulder.

With both your feelings finally out in the open, you two had nothing to hide from each other. It gave you a satisfied feeling that you no longer had to worry about your feelings being unreciprocated.

You were falling for her and she was falling for you. Although it was a scary feeling, at least you were falling together.

-----------

A/N: Once again, thank you sm for all the support! More work is to come, I'm working on a new series that I'm actually super excited about

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #scream #pretty girl

[catsafarithewriter]

Day 4: Secret Heritage

A/N: Day 4, secret heritage! This is based loosely on the concept of the Princess Diaries, an AU that has somehow never made an appearance (afaik) despite Haru’s VA being the star of the movie.

x

There should be, Haru felt, a limit on the number of shocks one person should be expected to endure in a day.

For instance, discovering that one is the heir apparent to a crown would - and should, frankly - be quite enough for one afternoon, but Haru had also been enlightened to the fact that her waiting throne not only oversaw the Cat Kingdom, and also that it demanded marriage to a suitable spouse.

This was why she was hiding in the second-best pantry, squished between a bag of sugar and several boxes of canned tuna.

This kind of nonsense, Haru thought stubbornly, should happen to klutzy schoolgirls and chosen ones, not debt-laden librarians in their mid-twenties.

The pantry door opened and a face appeared. It was, Haru supposed, not a bad face as feline features went, with soft ginger fur and bright green eyes, but she’d seen far too many Cats in the last few hours to be anything but decidedly biased against them. “Excuse me,” the Cat said, in polite but bemused tones, “but you seem to be occupying the space where the tea should be.”

A noise rattled from the kitchen beyond and, spurred on by the thought of her newly-found uncle pushing newly-found potential suitors her way, she grabbed the owner of the face and dragged the rest of him into the pantry. It was only as the door slammed shut behind them, dropping them into squalid darkness, that she realised she’d instinctively clamped a hand over his mouth, and that aforementioned mouth was nearly a foot above hers.

The Cat, in retaliation, merely stood there, making no attempt to escape as feet thundered beyond the door.

When the noise passed, Haru sheepishly lowered her hand.

“Not fond of tea, I take it,” said the Cat, perplexingly cheerfully.

“Sorry,” Haru whispered.

“No, no, it’s my fault. I should have knocked before coming barging in,” he said. “How unforgivably rude of me.”

Haru’s gaze flickered over her accidental captive and, as her eyes adapted, noted - alongside his prim and proper speech - the grey morning suit and top hat marking him as one of the nobility, or at least someone who liked to think themselves as such, and the abrupt contrast it struck with their current surroundings.

“Who are you?”

The Cat swept his top hat off with as much theatrics as the cramped space would allow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Baron Humbert von Gikkingen, but my friends call me Baron. And you must be the elusive princess whose absence is causing uproar in the rest of the palace. What is a princess doing in the second-best pantry?”

“What’s a baron doing looking in a second-best pantry?” Haru shot back.

“Trying to make tea. And you?”

“Trying not to get married.”

Baron nodded. “An endeavour I understand all too well. How is it working out for you?”

“Fantastic, until about thirty seconds ago.”

"My apologies.” The Cat cast a curious look over her, polite but questioning. “Is it indeed true what they say?”

“Depends on who’s telling the rumour,” she said miserably. Her sudden appearance into Cat high society had ruffled more than a few feathers, and given rise to no end of catty hearsay.

“That you were raised in the Human Realm with no awareness of your heritage?”

“Oh. Okay, that bit’s true.” She sighed and sat down on the tea boxes. After a moment, Baron took a careful perch on the canned tuna. “So, it turns out my dad wasn’t actually a Human civil servant who died in a car accident when I was a baby, but a Cat prince who renounced his throne so he could marry my mother in Human form who then got hit by a lorry when I was a baby, and that I’m not actually a Human librarian, but a Cat princess who’s been living under a transformation spell all her life who only thinks she’s a Human librarian...” She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “I have a degree that I indebted myself for, and apparently I didn’t need to.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand the pantry, now.”

“And on top of that,” Haru continued, somehow unable to stem the flow of the tragedy that was her life from this poor, unlucky Cat, “apparently the King’s son - my cousin - has married a commoner, which is against some bogus inheritance law, so they had to drag me out as the next in line, and now they’re expecting me to choose a suitable suitor a day into my new career.”

She snuffled, and she caught on her whiskers as she attempted to swat the frustrated tears away.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but have you possibly tried telling the King that you have no interest in ruling a kingdom?” Baron offered gently.

“I’ve tried. It was a decidedly one-sided conversation.”

The Cat inclined his head. “Listening has never been one of his fortes.”

“Which is why I'm here, trying not to get accidentally hitched.”

“I’m curious; do you have designations beyond the pantry, or was this as far as your plan went?”

“Frankly, I’m amazed I got this far. That little tan cat who never stops smiling and always follows the King around--”

“Ah yes, Natoru.”

“--found me as I was sneaking down. I threw some line about needing to use the bathroom, and it somehow worked, but I don’t think I could make it any further than the kitchen without being spotted again.” Haru sighed once more and, without thinking about it, dropped her head against Baron’s shoulder. “On the plus side, I’ll never have to worry about rent again, but at what cost?”

Gently, cautiously, Baron’s arm curled around her shoulders and then, when he wasn’t shrugged off, settled. “Your Highness--”

“Please call me Haru. I don’t think I can stand any more titles.”

“Miss Haru,” he amended, sneakily still adding in a title of respect, albeit one Haru was much more familiar with, “it’s not a well known fact, but I oversee a small bureau, devoted to helping those in need of assistance. Unless I am grievously mistaking the situation, you would appear to be in need of just such help.”

Haru snorted, and then immediately felt bad for his jacket. “No offence, but what exactly can a baron do up against the intention of his king?”

“We have our methods. But I can promise you, we shall do our utmost best to ensure you are not ushered into any marriage you do not freely choose.”

It was at that moment that the pantry doors swung open and, silhouetted by the bright kitchen light, stood Natoru. Several leashed tracking rabbits crowded around him, noses high and twitching in Haru’s direction.

“Miss Princess. Your Highness!” Natoru cried. “How fortunate we have found you before the royal ball begins!” His eyes flickered over Baron, shoulder still supporting Haru’s head, and arm close about her. “And, oh, this is wonderful! I see you’ve even chosen a suitor!”

#tcr birthday bash 2023 #tcr birthday bash #cat writes #the cat returns #princess diaries au #day 4 secret heritage

[heygerald]

HEART MECHANICS - PART 7/9

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x oc

Matty doesn’t like change. 

Like, at all.

But when things in her life start changing faster than she wants them to with no room to argue, she realizes that sometimes change isn’t so bad. Sometimes, it’s better to finally accept that her old habits aren’t always the best habits, and that maybe, just maybe, some rules are meant to be broken. 

Read the story here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / ... / part 8 / part 9

The parking lot was empty when Matty pulled in. 

Not late, for once, not that there was anyone around to see it though.

She pulled her keys from the ignition while attempting to smooth down her flyaway hairs. A glance in the mirror proved that it was a fruitless mission—nothing less than she deserved for driving too fast down the highway with her top down—and for no real reason at all she made sure to glare at her rearview mirror sourly just to feel a little bit better. 

“At least a hot mess is still hot,” she muttered, popped some strawberry gum into her mouth, and swung out of the vehicle. Her uniform boots had been traded off for a pair of red converse that she had taken the laces out of (lost, actually), and her oil stained overalls had been replaced with a pair of jeans that were more gaping holes than fabric, as well as what had to have been a t-shirt bought in the child’s section at Good Will. 

She didn’t remember ever buying it, but one day it showed up in her laundry basket. It was a little too short on the midriff and faded with bleach in some areas, yeah, but it also had a picture of Optimus Prime with large, neon 90’s style lettering splattered across the front. And, well, Transformers fucking rocked so she gladly accepted whatever stroke of luck had placed it in her possession without asking any hard hitting questions as to its existence. Karma rarely worked on her behalf, anyways; she would take whatever gifts she could get. 

A passing parade of elderly women out on an afternoon stroll clearly didn’t agree if the looks they shot her were anything to go by. One even made a subdued comment about the recent downfall of women’s pride in the twenty-first century to her chubby walking partner. 

“Oh, it’s not mine,” she lied, a little too miffed to do anything else. “It’s, uh, a charity... thing. You know, like, I love boobies? But, um... for children. Raising awareness one conversation at a time. Pride has absolutely nothing to do with how I dress.” 

The tallest woman, the leader at the front of the pack, stuck her nose up in the air at the comment and stormed off—an impressive feat given the size of her ankle weights—and without hesitation the others went as well. They reminded Matty of a flock of flamingoes strutting past something unsavory. 

Which...

Rude. 

“It’s laundry day!” she shouted at their retreating figures, somehow feeling equal parts mortified and offended. They gave no response though; just sent her disgruntled looks over their shoulders before disappearing past the parking lot. She watched them go for a moment before letting her arms clap against her legs in defeat. “Note to self: die before ever reaching… whatever age that is.” 

Mind made up on the matter and feeling slightly better about her life, she turned around, hopped up the deck stairs, and walked inside the empty bar with a snap of her chewing gum.

“We’re closed until five.” 

Well. Mostly empty. Amelia Benjamin, daughter extraordinaire, sat at the bar. 

Matty shot her a too-bright grin and strode closer with another snap of her gum; eyes sweeping the empty restaurant for any sign of Penny. The girl took one look at her conniving grin, however, before promptly returning her attention to the textbook spread out before her. 

“What?” Matty drawled whilst snagging the empty stool at her right. “No hello, Matty, dear friend and role model, how are you? And here I thought the local diner had bad customer service.”  

Amelia sighed out through her nose. Still, Matty caught the way that her lips curled up at the side, even if she tried to hide it behind a flip of her hair. 

“I don’t work here,” she said. “And you’re not my role model.” 

“Wow,” Matty deadpanned, clutching at her heart in mock pain. “That hurts, kid. I thought we were past this, but apparently puberty can turn even the best of friends against each other.” 

The only response Amelia gave was the scrunching of her nose. “Ew.” 

“Yeah, you’re telling me. Just wait a couple of years until you’re a senior in high school, every boy you meet shares exactly one brain cell, you have to deal with both zits and college applications, and the only good beer you can get is Bud Light.” 

Amelia paused in her writing to glance at Matty. “The drinking age is twenty-one.”

“Eh, pretty sure that’s just a recommendation,” Matty said with a shrug. Amelia clearly wasn’t convinced, however, and the blonde completely ignored the look that she was getting to bend over into the younger girl’s space. “Homework?”

“Duh.” 

“Subject?”

“Math.” 

“Gross.”

“Yup.” 

Matty abandoned the elaborate equations written out in neat, swirly lettering to glance around the bar. Math had never been her thing, let alone something she was interested in having to relieve just in hopes of extending a conversation. The kitchen seemed empty, as did the Adirondacks out back, but Penny rarely left her daughter unattended at The Hard Deck. Curious, she asked, “where’s your mom?”

To that, Amelia finally leaned away from her homework. “Out with Pete,” she said, nose scrunching up once more. 

This time, however, it wasn’t directed at Matty, and she couldn’t help but wiggle her eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh la la. Are we expecting her back anytime soon or is this more of a ‘they’re in the middle of playing hide zucchini’ type situation?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Amelia said.

“Oh, well, just imagine that Pete is the zucchini, you know, because he’s got a—” 

“Ugh!” Amelia clapped her hands onto her ears with a terrified shriek. Matty grinned at the reaction, and in response the girl’s terror filled eyes narrowed into slits. “That’s disgusting, Matty! God! Don’t say stuff like that; that’s my mom we’re talking about here.” 

“You do understand the physics of how you got here, right?” Matty poked fun.

Amelia, if possible, turned an even brighter shade of red that was impossible to hide behind her sheet of hair. “I—shut up! That was forever ago and it was with my dad and it definitely wasn’t with—with Pete!” 

“Hey,” Matty drawled, eyebrows arching up towards her hairline as she spotted a nearby jar of cherries. Popping one into her mouth distractedly, she pondered, “what’s so wrong with Mav? He’s a good looking dude. Objectively, anyways. His personality is definitely off putting.” 

“He’s, like, fifty,” Amelia said, as if that explained everything. 

“And you’re, like, fifteen. Give it time, kiddo. Right now you’re probably obsessed with an age appropriate heart throb like, I don’t know, the youth’s equivalent of Mario Lopez or whatever—” 

“Don’t say the youths,” Amelia interrupted her, only to be promptly ignored as Matty chomped on another cherry with her hand waving in the air in a vague gesture even she couldn’t make out.

“And then the next thing you know you’re going to sit down to rewatch The Lord of the Rings and suddenly—wham! The old fucker who plays Elrond is all you can think about at volleyball practice. It becomes this weird obsession thing and now you can’t watch those movies again without mentally asking yourself how much of an age gap you could put up with, which, trust me, can be an upsetting question to answer. Before you know it, decades have passed and you’re no closer to meeting the man of your dreams that you were when you were fifteen, only the man of your dreams is a lot less… dreamy.” 

Amelia blinked at Matty slowly, taking that in. “I honestly didn’t get any of that,” she said. 

Matty, in turn, blinked right back at her. “...so… when did you say your mom would be back?”

“I’m not sure. Definitely by five, but that’s all I know,” she said, shrugging, sighing, staring at her homework with a forlorn expression. A wince crossed her features as she settled her chin onto her left hand despondently. “Hopefully soon. I’m hungry.” 

“Isn’t there a kitchen right back there?”

“No cook.” 

“Damn.” 

“Yup.” 

The two girls—one a slowly growing pre-teen, one an adult who still acted like a pre-teen—both leaned onto the bar with matching sighs of disappointment. Amelia tapped her pencil against her notebook. Matty watched as the clock ticked by, counting the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four— 

“So, do you want to blow off your homework and go get food or…?” Matty blurted out, self-control a record low. Amelia’s pencil paused mid-air as she gave her a surprised look. “I mean, not, like, blow off your homework because it’s still gonna be here when we get back. You know. It can’t walk on its own or anything.”

Amelia’s gaze narrowed. “Can I pick?”

“I suppose.”

“And you’ll pay?”

“What am I, Make a Wish?” she scoffed.

To that, the girl gave a nonchalant shrug and slowly swiveled back to her homework. “Well, if you’re not going to pay, then I suppose I can wait until Mom gets back. But it’ll probably be awhile. You know how Pete can get when he has his motorcycle. I think he took her to some little café up the coast; said they’d be lucky to get back before —”

“Okay, Jesus,” Matty gave in, arms thrown up in the air. “I’ll pay. If I don’t die of boredom, first. But we’re not going anywhere expensive. I’m not made of money, you know. And there’s, like, a recession going on. Pretty sure, anyways.” 

“Trust me, I know,” Amelia said, sliding off of her stool to give Matty a pat on the shoulder. Then, as if that wasn’t dramatic enough, she gave Matty’s outfit a look full of pity and commented, “I’ve seen your phone, Matts. Maybe you should consider writing to Make a Wish.” 

Matty’s jaw was on the floor when the pre-teen sashayed towards the front door. 

She paused only to shoot the blonde an impish smirk. “Are you coming? I’m starving.” 

Then, she promptly stepped out of the bar and made her way towards Matty’s jeep. Another relic that she eyed with a pitying look. In response, Matty took a moment to pick her jaw off the floor before she was exploding out of the building like a bat out of hell.

“There’s nothing wrong with my phone! ” she shouted. “It’s a classic!”

Amelia, already sitting in the passenger seat of her jeep, glanced up from what she was holding in her lap—unfortunately for Matty what she was holding in her lap was the ten year old sleeve of CD’s that was typically clung to the visor. “NSYNC? Seriously? Talk about old.”

“Alright kid, new rule,” she chirped, snatching the CD out of Amelia’s hands. With a glare, she shoved it into the CD player, swung her sunglasses low onto the bridge of her nose, and turned the volume dial to max. “Driver picks the music; passenger shuts her pie hole. Yeah? Now, stop talking, and let me teach you everything there is to know about teenage hormones.” 

Amelia shook her head with a laugh; from the stack of junk that was scattered through Matty’s car, she managed to find a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses that she settled onto her own face. “Just don’t get a speeding ticket, okay? Technically, Mom told me that I’m not allowed to ride with you after the last time.” 

“That was a total fluke,” Matty argued as she pulled out of her parking space. NSYNC was just starting to bump her stereo and, when Amelia glanced down at her phone, Matty took the opportunity to crumple up the stash of parking tickets that were currently stuffed into the cupholder. When Amelia looked back over at her she just gave an innocent smile. “Besides, if anyone is upset about that it’s me. Everyone goes fifty in a twenty-five.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Amelia said as they peeled out onto the road. “But I think you should spend less time with Pete.” 

Matty just laughed. And, when Amelia started singing along to the third song on her CD, she was in a good enough mood to even buy Amelia an extra-large milkshake along with her dinner. 

---

Turns out, music and food was the key to any angsty child’s heart. By the time they made it to In N’ Out down the coast, Amelia was singing along to the catchy, timeless tunes of the quintessential boyband. And after they got their too-large orders of fries, burgers, and milkshakes, Amelia had even insisted on taking a couple selfies with Matty in what she dubbed “golden hour” lighting of the afternoon. One of the pictures even made it onto her Instagram account—not that Matty had been paying attention—while the others just cluttered up her phone. 

More than that, but once she had been fed, she had been in a good enough mood to let Matty take a quick detour to the nearby surf shop so she could peruse some boards that she definitely couldn’t afford. The downside of that interaction was that even when well fed, Amelia made sure to point out the issue she took with Matty spending money on hobbies when she couldn’t even be bothered to upgrade to a smartphone. 

“I don’t need a smartphone,” Matty told her primly. “When you’re as stunningly hot as I am, Amelia, you have to learn to live in the moment. This body isn’t going to last forever.” 

“You’re not even thirty yet,” Amelia shot back incredulously.

“And I’ll be lucky to make it to then with how stupid the mechanics are on base. Total morons. All of them.” 

Amelia cocked a hip, heart-shaped sunglasses low on her nose, and gave Matty her best impression of Regina George. “You are a mechanic on base.”

“No duh,” Matty had shot back just as quickly while running her hand over a neon green surfboard that matched the writing on her t-shirt a little too well. Karma who? “The problem here is that, while I’m not an idiot, I’m in charge of a fuck-ton of idiots. Idiots who don’t like to be yelled at or called teenie-weenies when they need to be knocked down a peg. How long do you think that shit is gonna last before one of them murders me?”

“You could just try to be nicer,” Amelia said with such innocence that Matty couldn’t help but throw her head back and laugh. Glen, the owner of the store who—on more than one occasion—had watched Matty verbally berate local gym bros that tried to mansplain what surfboard wax was used for laughed as well. 

And he was all the way on the other side of the store. 

Amelia frowned, not understanding how what she said was wrong. Matty, now wiping tears from beneath her eyes, didn’t bother to explain it. Just simply pat the girl on the back before ushering her down the next aisle. “Come on, kid. Let’s be realistic here. Now, do you like the blue wetsuit better or the white? I accidentally shrunk my last one in the dryer.” 

Their aimless wandering lasted long enough for Matty to buy a new bikini that definitely wouldn’t be practical to surf in. It was cute though; not to mention half-off. At that point Amelia had ended up corralling them back outside before it got too late. Matty wouldn’t have minded spending a little bit longer talking with Glen about his latest shipment of boards, but Amelia was stronger than she looked and Matty hadn’t wanted to risk her arm being pulled out of socket. 

Fine enough; they made it back before traffic could get too horrible. Unfortunately, the bar was already open by then. Not full, though, and Matty managed to pull into the same parking space as before with a satisfied smile. Amelia didn’t seem to care any which way. 

“Can I keep these?” she asked as they made their way inside, poking the sunglasses in question back and forth on her face. 

“They’re not mine,” Matty shrugged while surveying the faces in the bar. A few frequents stood out to her. None that were Penny. “Keep ‘em.” 

Amelia, not even bothered about her mom’s presence (or lack of), frowned over at Matty from beneath said glasses. “What do you mean they’re not yours? I found them in your back seat. Did you steal them or something?”

“What? No! Of course not. Why is theft the first thing you think of?”

“Well if you didn’t steal them then...?”

Matty paused. She remembered the sunglasses vaguely from a night out with Claire a couple months back. The girls started drinking mimosas early that particular Saturday morning saying that they were going to go easy and relax after a long week. However, one mimosa turned into two, and ten hours later they found themselves in downtown San Diego at a drag bar with a bachelorette party that they had somehow been invited to. The women were nice, more than happy to bring two new girls into the mix, and they all had matching outfits of pink and red and white. Actually, if Matty squinted hard enough she could envision a blurry bride in a red sparkly dress with a pair of equally red sunglasses that looked sorta like—

“You know what? Keep them! They were a... gift.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yup,” she popped her ‘p’ with a poignant smack of the lips. “They look better on you, anyways.” 

Amelia grinned. Matty, not wanting to even consider the circumstances in which she had obtained such glasses, just patted the girl awkwardly on the head before catching sight of Penny over her shoulder. Relieved, she pulled Amelia towards the other end of the bar. 

“Penny, there you are,” she started. “Have you seen—?”

“Where on Earth have you been, Amelia?” she cut Matty off with a cocked hip and the most motherly glare the woman could possibly produce. Matty froze in her shoes at being on the receiving end of it. This was the look that drunks typically got before being booted from The Hard Deck. 

Matty promptly cleared her throat before shoving Amelia to the battlefront with a fake cough. She couldn’t see the glare—you know, because of the sunglasses—but boy could she feel it. 

“We, um, went to get food,” Amelia started, now feeling her mother’s ire a little bit more.

“Food?” Penny deadpanned.

“Yeah. Didn’t Matty text you?”

Penny pulled her phone out of her back packet with a pointed look, before reading, “Stole your daughter, be back by…” she trailed off. Then, as if to punctuate the point she was making, she shoved her phone towards the pair to show that the text was exactly as she read it. “You didn’t even finish the text.” 

Matty rubbed the back of her neck with a wince. “Right. I was going to, and then… um. I got distracted. Guess I sent it without spell checking.” 

Penny arched her brow. “I called you twice since then. I thought the rule was to always answer the phone, Amelia,” she told her daughter. Her facade of anger was cracking a bit as it gave way to acceptance. 

“Oh,” Amelia faltered. “Our music was kind of... loud.”

“Your music?”

“It was NSYNC if that makes it any better,” Matty added. Penny said nothing. Just shot Matty a dry look. “Yup, nope, the band wouldn’t really matter. Got it.” 

The stare off continued for another moment before Penny finally relented. Probably more to do with the fact that they hadn’t been doing anything wrong per say, and less to do with the fact that Matty was trying to offer up her saddest wounded dog impression. 

Actually, yeah, it had nothing to do with that. Matty was never very good at looking innocent. 

Whatever.

What was important was that Penny wasn’t too mad. Sighing, she just tossed her dish towel over her shoulder before waving her hands at them. “Alright, fine. Just go finish your homework please, Amelia? Sarah is coming in at seven and I can drive us home then.” 

Amelia’s shoulders sagged with relief. Then she grinned. “Great. Thanks!” 

She moved to walk away without saying anything else, and Matty, not being able to help herself, cleared her throat as pointedly as she could. In turn, the pre-teen paused. 

“Okay, fine. NSYNC isn’t that bad I guess,” she said as if that was the most important thing. Then she disappeared down to where her homework still sat. Matty watched in disbelief as the girl gathered everything up and promptly moved to the back deck where it wasn’t nearly as loud.

Scoffing as dramatically as she could manage, she turned to Penny, and told her, “I bought her, like, twenty dollars worth of food! I mean seriously, Pen, she just wouldn’t stop eating! And gave her a pair of sunglasses for free.” 

It seemed that she was complaining to the wrong audience. Penny had no sympathy to give.

“Ugh, whatever,” she muttered. “I guess it’s a thankless job or whatever.” 

“Kidnapping my daughter?”

“Ministering to the youths.” 

Despite her earlier mood, the absurdity of the statement cracked a laugh out of Penny. It almost always did—the woman could hardly ever stay mad at Matty. She liked to think it’s because Penny understood who Matty was on a spiritual level. In reality, it was just because Penny couldn’t believe someone with a trainwreck of a life like the Neven’s could still manage to function. 

It was pretty much free entertainment. 

“I think the idea of you ministering anything to my daughter is more concerning than the kidnapping.”

“It was hardly a kidnapping,” she joked, sliding onto an empty stool. “Other than teaching her about NSYNC, Amelia did most of the talking. Did you know that Abby told Kasey that she was only allowed to invite two girls to her birthday party but then Mary G. found out that she was actually just lying because she was still mad at Kasey for kissing Aidan when she knows that Abby still had feelings for him after they danced together at the Spring Fling?”

Penny, both impressed that Matty had been able to retain that sort of information, and bewildered by everything she had just said, asked, “do you know who any of those people are?”

“Not a clue,” she admitted. Shrugged. Snuck another cherry off the bar before Penny could swat her with the dish towel. “I think that milkshake had too much sugar in it. Lesson learned.” 

“Well, I’m glad that you two had fun. Is there a reason that you decided to take her out to dinner?”

“Actually, yes, thank you for asking. I came looking for something. When we were here the other night I think I forgot my—” before she could explain herself, Penny withdrew a pair of shoes from a shelf beneath the bar with an amused smile. “Shoes. What a wonderful surprise. Thank you, these cost me twenty bucks.” 

“I’m more worried that you went home without shoes than the fact you paid twenty dollars on those shoes,” Penny snickered.

Matty blew a raspberry. “Mock all you want. These babies have seen a lot. They were worth the money.”

Penny raised her hands and leaned back onto the bar. “I don’t even want to know.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” she agreed, grinning. “Not that I would tell you half of the stories. State secrets and all that,” she exaggerated while setting the shoes aside with a loving look. The look shifted a bit when she glanced back up at Penny; this time, she was the curious one. “Speaking of state secrets, where have you been all evening? I heard that you were out on a date.” 

She didn’t even flinch. “It wasn’t a date.” 

“Rendezvous, an afternoon romp, a tryst, whatever you want to call it,” she supplemented without missing a beat. Penny grew more exasperated with each word, much to her amusement, and as she stuffed another cherry into her mouth she raised both brows. “How’s Mav?”

“None of your business.” 

“Ooh, that good huh?”

Penny hit Matty with her towel, forcing the blonde to lean back off the counter and away with the cherries. She laughed as she did so, however. “We had fun. But, maybe you should talk to him.”

“About his sex life?” she deadpanned, making a face. “No thanks.” 

“About his work life,” Penny said with a pointed, if not, amused look. To this, Matty settled down a bit. She hadn’t been expecting the change in conversation, but any gossip was good gossip when it came to the life of Maverick. “Cyclone is pulling him out of Top Gun.”

“What?” she cried. “That’s ridiculous. Why?”

“Ice isn’t here anymore,” Penny told her, serious for the first time since they started talking. And, fuck, if that wasn’t a bitch of a sentence to hear even if it was true. Matty just hadn’t thought that things would change so quickly since the funeral. Hadn’t wanted to think about it, maybe. “Yeah. Cyclone doesn’t think he’s right for it anymore.”

“And what does Mav think?”

Penny was quiet for a long moment. Matty didn’t really need an answer. 

“Where is he?” she asked. And, when she got an answer, she didn’t hesitate to go looking for him. Even if they weren’t best friends, even if he wasn’t her godfather, she still owed him a conversation at the very least. Penny appreciated that; was happy to see it too.

And when Matty had pulled out of the parking lot with intent and Penny saw that she had left her boots on their stool, she could only shake her head with a sigh. 

“Note to self,” she muttered, stuffing the shoes back to their hiding spot beneath the counter, “don’t ever buy that girl anything expensive.”

---

The traffic on base was relatively nonexistent as Matty cruised through. Most people had gone home for the day, and the ones that hadn’t were slowly easing themselves along the roads without much hurry. It made her lift her foot from the gas pedal a little bit. It worked out well in the end; driving slowly kept away the MP, and it also gave her the opportunity to spot Mav on the opposite side of one of the training fields doing sprints. 

She parked, took the keys out, but didn’t approach just yet. Instead, Matty propped her shoes up on the dashboard, threw a stick of gum in her mouth, and started twiddling with the Etch N’ Sketch that she kept in her car for moments like this. 

Okay, well, really it was in her car because she never cleaned, but whatever. 

By the time that Maverick finally took a break from his self-imposed torture, the sun was low on the horizon, the air had a bit of a stickiness to it, and Matty was halfway through doodling a two headed dragon. Well, if you squinted. She wasn’t all that much of an artist. Still. 

“Did Penny send you after me?” he asked her, slowly making his way in her direction. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, his back, his legs. She grimaced at the sight before tossing him a half empty water bottle. He gave it a glance over before sipping on the lukewarm water tentatively.

“No. I was just on base, saw you running. Thought that you might throw out your back before the night was over. Didn’t want to miss the spectacle of you being shoved into an ambulance,” she lied seamlessly. Mav chuckled; she wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he didn’t call her out on it anyways. “Why would Penny send me after you?”

He squinted into the sunset. “They’re kicking me out of the program.” 

“They can’t do that.” 

“They can,” he said, blinked in a moment of thought, and then added, “I’m a little surprised that it took them this long, actually. I don’t think teaching is really my thing.” 

Matty rolled her eyes. “That’s a load of bullshit.” 

Mav, not quite expecting such bluntless, glanced at her. “Come on, Matts. You don’t need to coddle me. I’m a disaster in the classroom; I knew that twenty-five years ago when I tried this the first time around.”

“No shit,” she deadpanned. His lips drifted down into a frown, eyebrows furrowing into a tense line in the middle, and she tossed her Etch N’ Sketch into the backseat with a sigh. “Mav, obviously you’re bad at teaching in a classroom. You’ve never exactly been the sort of guy to sit down and read a textbook.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Oh, shut up, I’m not done,” she told him. The conviction in her voice was purposeful, the eye roll wasn’t. “Just because you can’t lecture well doesn’t mean you can’t teach. You have, like, decades of experience. Good experience doing things that no sane person would ever do. Bradley told me that he had never seen someone fly like you did during training exercises.” 

The light moved on Maverick’s face as he shifted on his feet, glancing at her in abate curiosity. “He said that?” he asked. Her mouth tightened into a scowl, however, and the conversation moved on with a cough. “Cyclone knows that I have experience. It was one of the reasons that he didn’t want me here in the first place. My file isn’t exactly…” 

“Short?”

He scoffed. “You could say that.” 

Matty shrugged, waving a hand around vaguely as she tucked her sneakers under herself. “What does Cyclone know anyways?”

“A lot,” Maverick said. “Being a Vice Admiral and all.” 

“Vice Admiral or not he doesn’t know everything.” 

Maverick finished the last of her water thoughtfully. As he glanced around, down at his foot, out into the sunset, Matty could see the age lines deepening on his face. It was a bittersweet thing; oftentimes, she liked to think of her Dad and Maverick and all the other pilots as relics, sure, but also as untouched by time. They were so lively, so fun, so young and bold that it could be difficult to acknowledge that they aged like real people. Changed. 

Got sick. 

Died. 

She cleared the weight in her throat awkwardly. “Look, believe it or not, I didn’t come out here to give you a pep talk. You know what you’re capable of, and you know what this job requires. But…”

He lifted a brow. “But?” he asked pointedly.

“I’ve never known you to walk away from something.” 

The lines on his face tightened, the age deepening by a decade. Maverick tossed her empty water bottle into a nearby trash can with a beleaguered sigh. “Penny said the same thing, but some things are out of my control.”

“Since when?” she scoffed. “Ice told me that you ended up here because you crashed going Mach 10 over the desert.”

“Crashing wasn’t exactly my goal,” he told her dryly.

“Yeah, well, there’s consequences to everything. You know what you’re capable of. I guess you just need to figure out what consequences you can live with and which you can’t,” she said. It was oddly poetic, and maybe one of the most sensible things she had ever told anybody in her life. Maverick seemed aware of this as his mouth lifted into a smile. Cheeks reddening, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “now seriously are you going to put a shirt on or what?”

To that, he laughed. Glanced down at his bare chest, then to her, and then laughed again. 

“You know,” he told her while stooping down to pull his shirt out of the discarded bag on the ground. When she caught his gaze over the crook of his shoulder, his eyes were sparkling. “I bet if I was Rooster you wouldn’t mind so much.” 

“That’s—that’s not even—” she spluttered, mortified, horrified, and a little bit scandalized. “Shut up!” 

He made no promise, and by the time that he was climbing onto his motorcycle, Matty made sure that her volume dial was turned back to max so that she wouldn’t have to hear him if he didn’t. 

---

“I think I’m going to quit,” Matty declared suddenly as she flopped back onto the damp sand. It’s a declarative statement spoken loud enough to garner her friend’s attention, but oddly enough, not a single person believes the statement itself. To that, she stuck her nose up into the air. “I am! I’ve had it with this life. My back hurts like a bitch and I’m tired of never having a manicure last. Plus, I’d rather spend all my time at the beach like this.” 

“Sure, Sheila,” Boomer deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he catches a bright orange football that he and George have been tossing around to pass the time. Earlier, the group had indulged in a short game of flag football that had resulted in Matty getting knocked on her ass one too many times to count, but now it was just the pair entertaining themselves as they waited for sunset. Though the group had gotten to the beach around dinner to find themselves a little piece of sand, the rest of the beach had slowly but surely gotten fuller as night set out. It was the first annual night surfing event of the year—with the weather deemed good enough and the midnight swells tall enough—and the air crackled with anticipation as locals showed up. “I’d reckon you’d last all of two days before you come back to work.”

“Don’t think I can be a lazy body?”

“Think you’d run out of money,” he snorted. 

The others laughed and, as Matty considered it, she figured that he was probably right. Matty had a history of being bad with money. Not so bad that she was always paying off gambling debts like Boomer, mind you, but bad enough that she liked to treat herself when the moment struck.

“I’ll just marry rich then,” she said after a moment of consideration. Upon reaching that conclusion, Matty threw her head back into Claire’s lap—smiling when the brunette arches a brow down at her in challenge—and gave a wistful hum. “I don’t think I’d mind being a trophy wife.” 

“You’d have to be a trophy to be a trophy wife,” Claire chirped.

“Please. Men practically drool when they see me.” 

“And you’re so humble too,” Nick snarked from her side. He had busied himself with setting up a campfire before the night got too dark. Typically, that was Frank’s expertise, but he had elected to go out of town that weekend for a camping trip with some buddies, and so it was up to the young blood to do what no one else wanted to do. “Might have to work on that if you want to keep a guy around.” 

Matty blew a raspberry. “I’d rather work for the rest of my life than dumb myself down for some richie-rich loser.” 

“Two minutes,” Claire announced. “It took you two minutes to come full circle.” 

Matty rolled her eyes up at her friend as Nick laughed under his breath while adjusting the logs just the right way. She knows it’s all in good humor, though, and doesn’t feel particularly aggressive any which way so she just lets them get away with it all. 

“Do you need some help?” she asked him after a few minutes of watching.

Nick arched a brow at her. “Do you know how to build a fire?”

“Well, no, but I’ve seen Frank do it before. It can’t be that hard.” 

Nick and Claire shared a look. She shook her head first, deciding that she was too close to Matty to say anything, which left him to think up some sort of bullshit excuse as to why no one wants Matty to get her hands on a pack of matches. He’s too nice, however, and maybe takes too long because soon enough George rather boldly told her, “I’d rather be cold tonight than have you attempt to build a fire.” 

“Um, excuse me. Rude much?”

“I’ve seen what you can do with a wrench and a can of oil, Mats,” George deadpanned. 

To that, she flapped her hand around at him, vaguely annoyed that he was involved in the conversation at all. “That was one time, and I apologized already. Plus, Cap made me sit through that stupid fire safety course afterwards. I think I’m probably the most qualified here to start a campfire if we want to get all technical about it.” 

The entire group shared a look.

“Listen, I’d love nothin’ more than to watch you bend over the campfire,” Boomer started. She immediately huffed at it, rolled her eyes, already considering smacking him for whatever bullshit he was about to spew, but he steamrolled on without even noticing. Nothing ever seemed to shut him up, really. “But you were just talkin’ about wantin’ to be a trophy wife, yeah? Let little Nicky handle the fire and you can just keep lying there lookin’ pretty for us all.” 

Matty feels mildly offended at everyone’s distrust in her skills, but does realize that Boomer has a point. She would have to get up off the ground and actually try if she wanted to follow through on her proposition. Lying prone in the sand sounded like a much better option. Still, Matty hated admitting defeat. 

“Sexists.” 

“Don’t loop me in with them,” Claire said as she nudged Matty’s head with her knee. “I’d like to see a woman show up a man any day. Just, you know, not you with a campfire.” 

Matty’s pout deepened. “I hate all of you.” 

“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual,” Claire shot right back. It takes nothing more than for Matty to arch a brow in prompting to get an explanation. “I still can’t believe you invited some of the Top Gun idiots out with us tonight. Talk about a betrayal.”

“I didn’t invite them all,” Matty argued. It was true. She had invited Bradley earlier that day when they had run into each other at the mess hall. And by extension she had also invited Natasha and Bob because they were standing right there with him eavesdropping on the entire conversation. She hadn’t intended for anyone else to hear about the shindig, but he had shot her a text about an hour earlier warning her that a few more of the knucklehead pilots might be tagging along. “It’s hardly my fault that Bradley can’t keep a secret to save his life. Besides, it’s not just us here. It’s a community thing.” 

“Sure, but since when are the pilots part of our community?” 

Matty doesn’t let her interrogation go very far. Pointedly, she reminded Claire, “last I recall, you got along with the pilots just fine. I’m pretty sure you would have spent the entire night with Natasha if you hadn’t been dragged away. It was almost adorable how cute you two were together, all huddled up in the corner booth, drinking your beer.” 

Claire is unamused at Matty’s point, but doesn’t argue it. Although no one outrightly said anything about it, the motor pool had their suspicions that Claire might have heart eyes for Phoenix. 

“Whatever. It’s the fact of the matter. Just because you want to bang Bradshaw doesn’t mean we should be stuck with the others as babysitters.” 

“I don’t want to bang him.” 

“Fine, marry, whatever.” 

Matty shoved off of Claire with a glare to which the brunette grinned, pleased to have won the argument. She doesn’t get to say anything else about it though. Before she can, a crying whoop catches the group’s attention, and they turn to watch as a group approaches them from the parking lot. 

Fanboy and Payback are at the front; barreling across the sand, shoving one another on the shoulders, as they race to see who can make it into the water first. They spray sand over Matty and Claire, but are gone before they can be reprimanded. She doesn’t care to see who wins—though, if the way they are wrestling one another, she suspects that neither wants to admit to a loss. Behind them the others trail at a slower pace. Natasha ambles along with Bob, a cooler dangling between their hands. Bradley has a surfboard tucked beneath each arm, jean shorts this time traded for a more appropriate pair of low hanging swim trunks. Behind him, Hangman saunters forward with a beer already cracked in hand, looking much too smug for her liking. Coyote lingers in the far back as he struggles to pull his sweatshirt over head. 

“This isn’t much of a party,” Jake chirped smugly at them. 

“Well it was before you showed up,” Matty shot right back. She catches Bradley’s eye next, and he has the smarts to at least offer a shrug in apology for the blonde having somehow wormed his way into the invitation. She finds that she doesn’t mind all that much though. So long as Seresin watched his attitude. “Ever heard of being a party crasher?”

“Nah.” 

“Course not.” 

“Every party wants me. I’m part of the experience.” 

Matty can’t help but roll her eyes as the others join the group. Claire and Natasha share warm smiles. Bob seems timid as always, but he still offers the pair of women cold beer from his cooler that they accept with appreciative smiles. “Whatever. Maybe you can keep Booms’ attention, huh? The pair of you two are so cute together. Like little best friend puppies or whatever creepy box you came out of.” 

This time it’s Jake who is rolling his eyes. But… 

Well, when he catches Boomer’s eye and realizes that the man has a football in hand, he’s instantly more interested in whatever that might entail than he is in trading barbs with Matty. He splits from the group without saying anything else, and somehow he manages to round Payback and Fanboy out of the water without much prompting. Coyote trails after them as well as Bradley takes a seat beside Matty. 

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” 

“Long time no see.” 

“Oh, sure. It’s been a whole, what, four hours now? I can’t imagine how you could have survived going that long without seeing me. The withdrawal must be getting pretty bad by now.”

“It’s been hard, not gonna lie,” he teased. Smiled when she pokes her tongue out at him. “Pretty excited to see how bad you are at surfing if I’m being honest.”

“I’m amazing,” she told him.

He clearly doesn’t believe her touting. “Really?”

“You better believe it, Bradshaw. You’re going to see some real talent tonight out on those waves. If you can even keep up.” 

His gaze brightens at the challenge, but also at the way that her voice has adopted something—dare she admit—flirtatious to it in all of five sentences. She’s almost surprised at herself, really; even more surprised that she really doesn’t mind. In fact, Matty is simply happy to sit there talking with Bradley about anything at all. She’s starting to worry that it’s his attention that she can’t get enough of and not the other way around. 

“Yeah, yeah, well I think I’m finally getting used to your smack talk, Neven. It’s not nearly as scary as you think it is.”

“God, say it ain’t so. I must be going soft around you, Bradshaw.” 

“The horror,” he joked.

She smiled, he grins, and in response something happy and soft opened his features up even further. She has caught glimpses of the expression before—in the parking lot when he brought her coffee, at her house when she finally talked to him about her past, on the beach when they were eating tacos in their own little world—and she marks it down as something that she likes seeing. Likes being the cause of. Likes knowing, at least a little, that it’s for her. 

Matty opened her mouth to say something back, to try and tease the expression for a little bit longer, when she came to the horrifying realization that she is surrounded by her friends while falling into some sort of mystified trance. It’s all so high school, really. The way that she seems to forget everything else when Bradley smiles at her. 

Clearing her throat, she turned to find that Claire is already watching her with an all too smug look. Matty arched a brow at her friend sharply. “Don’t you want to play football with the boys?” she prompts. 

It does nothing to scare her off. 

“Nope,” Claire tuts, popping the ‘p’ for extra emphasis. The smugness has gone and grown a head of its own as she slides her gaze towards Bradley. She even makes a show of stretching her legs out in the sand. “I’m plenty comfortable right here. What about you, Nat?”

Natasha, having now joined the group on the ground, seems to understand that she’s in the middle of something. She doesn’t seem to mind though. “All comfy, cozy,” she chirped as well. Her own gaze darts to Bradley. He rolls his eyes at her from behind his beer, but says nothing at all. 

It’s Nick who—once he finally gets the fire going—provokes the group of four from their silent standoff. 

“Anybody feel like playing cards?” he asked them. 

They all peer at one another for a moment. Matty at Claire, Claire at Natasha, Natasha at Bradley, then Bradley over at Mats, before coming to the same conclusion. 

“Yup,” Matty chirps as Claire says, “why not?”

Nick knows nothing of the war that he’s just stepped into. Neither does Bob who somehow manages to plop himself down right between Claire and Matty. When he catches the looks that both women are shooting him—as well as Natasha’s mute look of disbelief—he frowns. 

“Did I miss something?”

----

The water is cool against Matty’s skin as she dangles her legs on either side of her surfboard. She’s sitting far enough out from the shore that she’s no longer in anyone’s way but not so far that she’s at risk of being swept out. It helps as well that someone had been smart enough to pass out glow sticks in mass. There’s a bright pink one wrapped around her neck, as well as a dainty blue one on each wrist. She likes to watch as they leave behind luminescent trails in the dark with each movement of her arm. 

Mesmerizing, like the ocean that gently sways her. 

“Given up?” Bradley calls towards her. She has to squint her eyes to see him. The pilots only brought two surfboards and had been taking turns; it seems that he had handed his off to Coyote and instead was swimming out to hers. 

“Just watching the show.” 

He treads closer until his movements set her board swaying a bit. Matty narrowed her gaze at him, but she doubts he can see it in the dark. She can see only a swath of his features from the moonlight and the orange necklace he’s wearing as is. 

“You shouldn’t have swam out here without a board,” she chides when he’s close enough that she doesn’t have to shout. 

“Why?”

“Pretty sure it’s unsafe.”

“It’s plenty safe,” he chirps. She knows there’s something else coming before he moves, and Matty barely manages to keep her balance as he climbs onto her own surfboard with a grin. It shifts beneath them—threatening to throw them both over—before they manage to find their balance. He sits as a mirror image to her on the other end. Close enough to touch, though, if she tried. “See? We can share. It’s not like you’re using it, anyways.” 

“How presumptuous of you.” 

“That I thought you’d share?”

“That you don’t think I’ll drown you for touching my board,” she says.

He shakes his head with a laugh. She wonders how he would have reacted to something like that a few weeks ago. After they had met at the bar but before they had come to any sort of reconciliation. If he was smart, she supposes that he wouldn’t have even approached her in the dark. But Bradly Bradshaw never struck her as a coward. 

“Come on, Mats, we both know you like me,” he teases.

To this, she arches a brow. “Oh, I do, do I?”

“Definitely.” 

Matty hums as if the whole thing is a conspiracy, but she also flounders a bit. She’s hardly ever spent time in a relationship. Usually, she was more of a fuck-em and dump-em kinda girl. When that was the case, she didn’t have to worry about what sort of thing she might say. She just needed to be confident enough to win their attention. Then, the next morning, she would sneak home and never have to worry about it again. 

But with Bradley…

Well, she found that she didn’t necessarily want that sort of thing. She liked having inside jokes with him, liked having him come back to her, liked the attention. More than that, she wanted it to continue. 

It left her stranded in unfamiliar waters. 

Literally. 

“Whatever, Bradshaw,” she says, sticking her nose up in the air with as much feigned disinterest as she can manage. It was neither convincing nor mean. Awkward in her own skin, she throws her wet hair over her shoulder with a huff. “Okay, so I guess you’re not as horrible as I thought.”

He clutched a hand to his chest. “That might have been the nicest thing you ever said to me.” 

“I could still drown you,” she points out, narrowing her eyes at him. There’s a glimmer of something amused in her gaze that she can’t manage to shake, though. “Besides, that hardly means what you think it means.” 

“You know, despite what I first thought, you’re a pretty horrible liar.” 

“Um, I am not!” 

“And you get offended at the weirdest stuff too,” he added. She scoffs, rolled her eyes, twisted on the board a little too quickly and then went ramrod stiff when it threatened to topple them both over. He seemed amused at all of this. Flustered, Matty glares at him until he gets on with the conversation. “Alright, fine, fair enough. You’re the most brutally honest person I met. Is that better? A compliment for a compliment.” 

She considers it, then nods. “I’ll take it.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding. She nodded back once more, feeling pleased, until the moment that he opened his mouth again to speak. “Then I want you to be brutally honest right now and tell me that I’m imagining things and that you aren't interested in me. At least a little bit.” 

Well. Fuck. That backfired spectacularly. 

How had she let that happen?

“What are you drunk?” she blurts, not really sure what else to ask after hearing a declaration like that. 

“I’m not drunk. I’m being totally serious here, Mats. Look, I know how you felt about pilots and all of that, and I get it, I do, but I’m leaving soon and I’m tired of ignoring this thing between us—whatever it is. I want you to be honest with me. Alright? Just once, right now.” 

“I—” she hesitated. It was dark, but the longer they sat there together, the more details on his face she could make out. Like the way he arched a brow at her in challenge, or the way that his eyes were wide and earnest, or the way that there was a little dent between his eyebrows like he was nervous to hear what she had to say. “I don’t—I don’t date pilots.” 

The earnest expression gave way to something exasperated. “I didn’t ask if you would date me, I asked you to be honest about how you felt about me. Because I’ll be honest with you, Mats, alright? I like you. A lot. I like that you’re honest and open and not ashamed of who you are.” 

“Bradley—”

“And I like that you are hard-working, that you don’t let people push you around,” he continued. She licked her lips as he didn’t show a sign of stopping, eyes darting around as if looking for some way out, but it seemed that he was smarter than she gave him credit for. Cornering her on a surfboard with no way back to shore but an embarrassing swim as one way to go at it. She would have commended such a bold strategy if, you know, she wasn’t on the defensive side of it. “And I like that you understand me.” 

Matty latched onto that as quick as she could, not sure what else she could do. “See, okay, that’s the thing. You don’t like me, Bradley. You just like that I know about your past, that I went through something similar, alright? What’s the saying—misery loves company or whatever.” 

“That’s not it and you know it.” 

“It is,” she said, but, if she’s being honest, she’s not really sure anymore.

He fixed her with a look. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel, Matts.” 

“Come on, be serious,” she pleaded with him, slapping her hands in the water. His shoulders tightened a little bit at it. Her eyes drifted, unwillingly, to his bare chest, before she reminded herself that there were more important things to worry about. “I’m a horrible person. Okay? I am.”

“You’re not.”

“You just think that I’m fun. It’s happened before. I’m quirky and honest and whatever but pretty soon you’re going to hate that about me. Pretty soon you’re going to leave and you’re going to forget me and that’s—that’s okay. That’s how these things go,” she said. 

But once she said it she came to the startling realization that it’s not okay and it shouldn’t be how things go. Matty realized, stuck out on that board with him, that she didn’t want him to forget about her. She liked the idea of being known to the core by someone—known for all her misdeeds and deeds, for her history and her family name—yet not judged for it. She liked not having to worry that someone might be into her because of the ties of her Dad or Iceman brought with them. 

Fuck it. 

She fucking liked Bradley Goddamn Bradshaw.

“Come on, Neven,” he prompts. “Talk to me about this. Don’t shut me out.” 

“God, you’re such an asshole,” she said without thinking. 

That surely caught his attention, though, and this time when he sat back even further, she could make out the hurt that flashed across his features. Somehow, it spurs her on. Frustration tints her voice as she finally, at long last, is exactly what he wants her to be. 

Honest. 

“I have a rule about this kind of stuff, okay? Everyone jokes about it all the time, makes fun of me for it, but I’m serious. You think that I made the rule because it was funny? Or that I just didn’t want to follow in my mom’s footsteps? I don’t want to like someone that’s just going to leave, okay? That’s it. That’s the truth. You wanted me to be honest so I will. I don’t want to feel like I do about someone like you because you’re just going to leave me behind.” 

He blinked at her, silent.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you happy? Yes, I like you. Yes, I feel something here too. But…” 

“What?” he prompted her. “But what?”

“When you leave, I’m still going to be here. So what’s the point? Why even bother at all? So we can go out on one date, fuck, and then never talk to each other again? I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s worth it.” 

“You think that I would do that to you?”

Matty hadn’t expected that question. When she caught him staring, bewildered almost, she gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know, yeah, I guess. We barely know each other. I’m not saying that you’re a bad person or anything for it. I just think it’s normal.” 

Bradley was silent for a long moment that felt like an eternity. She didn’t like pensive silences, didn’t like stewing in her own thoughts. It was one of the reasons that she talked so much. Matty felt powerful when she had attention on her because it meant that people weren’t sitting there thinking about all of the reasons that they didn’t like her. Okay, so what if she wasn’t the super confident person she pretended to be all the time? Is that a crime? Everyone had things that they weren’t proud of or things that they wanted to pretend didn’t exist. 

Matty Neven was a lot of things. Constantly striving for approval was one of them. Struck with the fear of being abandoned was another. Big fucking whoop. It wasn’t the secret of the century. Hardly a secret at all for anyone who had an inkling of training in psychology.

Bradley didn’t have that sort of training. That’s why, just as she was considering drowning herself in the ocean, he was stuck on one single thing when she had already gone on three different downward spirals. “You really think that you’re so forgettable?” he asked her, dumbstruck. 

“Um... what?”

“You said that I would just forget you,” he pointed out. It seemed that her own lack of awareness astounded him. But, like, sue her. There was a lot going on right now. “Do you really think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe... Yes? Look, I’m just going to swim back to shore—”

“Matty,” he interrupted her with such exasperation that she snapped her mouth shut before she could say anything else. Probably a good thing too because if she got back to her car she most certainly was going to break several different speeding laws that night in her desire to run away. “You are probably the most unforgettable person I’ve ever met.”

“Right, stunningly gorgeous and all that,” she muttered in a poor excuse of a joke. 

He didn’t seem to hear it. Just steamrolled on ahead. “I’m sorry that there’s been people who make you feel like you’re not worth remembering before, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get you out of my mind even if I wanted to. Which, to be clear, I don’t.”

“You… don’t?” she hedged nervously, almost scared of the answer either way.

He shook his head so violently that it shook the board they were sitting on. “Fuck no, I don’t want to forget you. What I want is to take you out on a date, and then another, and then another one.”

She had never considered that option. The one where he didn’t forget about her or get bored of her. That’s why her response was nothing but a dumb, “oh.” 

“Yeah, oh,” he reiterated. She blinked at him, then at the water beneath them in thought. The ocean rippled around them as their board twirled listlessly in the ocean. She had never been so bewildered before. “I like you. Okay? That’s that. You can tell me to get lost if you don’t like me, and I’ll respect that. But I don’t think you want me to leave you alone. So... let me take you out on a date. A real one. Not just coffee in the parking lot or tacos outside The Hard Deck.” 

“That’s different. We were just hanging out.” 

He gave her a weird look. “Do you think I woke up at six am because I just wanted to talk to you for five minutes in a parking lot?”

“Well, I mean…” she trailed off, not even sure what she had thought. And as he watched her beneath the moonlight it was obvious to them both that she wasn’t any good at this sort of thing.

“Just say yes,” he instructed her, a proverbial life raft in the waters. 

She swallowed. Cleared her throat. Tossed her hair to the left and then to the right. “...okay.” Bradley had a look pinched halfway between excitement and annoyance that she couldn’t even do that right. “I mean, yes. Yes, I will go out on a date with you. A real one. One where you can pay and hold the door or whatever guys do.” 

He grinned. Sighed. Then bent closer. “Good. I’m going to kiss you now.” 

“You’re what—?” 

Bradley stifled whatever pot of emotions that threatened to boil over with a warm, sound kiss. It had all thoughts evaporating from her mind like drops of water beneath the sun. And, oh, if it didn’t make everything better to have his hands shift around her bare waist as his mouth slanted against her mouth. It silenced everything she had going on inside her rat’s nest of a head—she could admit that her mind was more like the scene of Spongebob where his mind workers caught everything on fire and then started running around with sirens blaring than anything organized—but Bradley Bradshaw seemed to bring order to the chaos with nothing more than his touch. Goosebumps pricked up along her bare legs as she kissed him back, and when their teeth clacked against one another, they weren’t above it all to laugh. 

She giggled into his lips. He smirked against her mouth. 

And then, in a swift movement, something tipped their board over from underneath and the pair was promptly dunked under the water. She swallowed salt water as she blubbered, confused, and half afraid that a shark was about to eat her right when her life was starting to get interesting.

When she surfaced, spluttered like a drowning fish, and push the wet streaks of blonde hair out of her eyes, however, she realized that the reality was much less exciting as she spied two heads with neon necklaces in the near distance. It was dark, but not so dark that she couldn’t make out the matching grins that Claire and Natasha wore as they howled with laughter. 

Nat paused when she met Matty’s eyes. “Oh, shit, she looks pissed!” 

The girls turned tail and paddled as fast as they could towards Claire’s surfboard that had been abandoned in the water not too far from Matty’s. They giggled as they went, though, and she figured it wouldn’t be all that hard to frame their drownings as accidents. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” she shrieked after them. 

“You have to catch us first!” Claire shouted back. 

She would. She wasn’t even that fast of a swimmer, but she would. Before she got the chance to take off after them, however, something latched onto her wrist and tugged her in the opposite direction of the shore.

A few soaked curls flopped on Bradley’s forehead as he smiled over at her. 

“Um, excuse me, they’re getting away!” 

“You can kill them later,” he said.

“But—” 

He kissed her again. It was sloppier as they were now both treading water, and she was pretty sure that she swallowed even more salt water in the mess of it all. This time she didn’t care nearly as much.

*** taglist (thanks for asking!)  @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado   @shanimallina87  @luckyladycreator2 ​ @olivethenerd16  @the-winter-marvel33 @hiddleless @momc95 @alanadetigy​ ​@obsessedasusual  

Okay, i kinda can’t believe how this story basically ran so far off course my my original idea, but i love where it’s ending up. i’ve been feeling less enthusiastic about writing just bc it’s taking me so much longer to update this story than it did to update old habits die hard but then i realized that this story is so much longer, with so many more scenes, and i’m very proud of that. hope you enjoy! 

one more chapter to go xoxo

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #heart mechanics #rooster fanfic

[gendervapor14]

two fights for freedom ~ teaser for chapter twenty-seven: a give and a take

plugging away at writing and organizing!! i've got drafts for chapter 27 and 28, so this week, i'll bring you a chonky teaser of chapter twenty-seven, with some cora & bell domesticity and backstory exploration :D

enjoy!! ♥

“Hey, hey, wait.” Bell-mère eyed over from the pot of rice she was preparing. “Don’t cut like that.” Before he could question her, she eased in and took the knife away from him. “That’s how you cut yourself. You have to tuck your fingers in.” She demonstrated after setting the blade down. “Like this, see? Hold the stems like that.”

“Doesn’t seem very comfortable…”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you. I have all reason to monitor your knife skills, or lack thereof.” She joked, keeping a watchful eye on him while he attempted her method. “Yeah, good. Just like that.”

“Where’d you learn this?” He asked, “Your parents?”

For half a second, Bell-mère froze photo-still. Then resumed tending to her rice. “My parents weren’t around when I was young. I learned on my own. Trial and error, baby.”

“Guess that makes two of us.” He mused, “I—I think I already mentioned that, though.”

“You did. Weirdly enough, it’s one of the reasons I figured you were somewhat dependable. At least you know what it’s like.” He watched her eyelashes flutter from where she stood over the steamy pot, stirring a rich, chicken broth. “I think it’s funny too, how…we almost seemed to compensate for that, don’t you think?” She grinned at him, but there was something inquisitive there. “You with Law? Me with the girls?”

“Compensating…?” He paused his slicing, “What, like…we’re standing in for the parents we didn’t have or something?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Ever feel that way?”

Rosinante scraped up a handful of chopped greens and carefully dumped them in the soup pot. “Not really, to tell you the truth. I’d really love to say I’m the image of my parents but…” He took his time returning to his post. “They were the sweetest, gentlest people I’ve ever met.” A little self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, they’d probably be disappointed by my temper. Tell me something like…you must appreciate the challenges in life or…something like that.”

Bell-mère watched him wave the knife around as he lost himself to his imagination. “You remember a lot about them?”

“My parents? Yeah, yeah. Er—well, I like to think I remember a lot about them, but…” A little sigh. Back to dicing. “They died when I was eight, so I don’t remember much. Enough to honor them, to think of them fondly, but not enough to really know who they were.”

“Can I ask what happened to them?”

His knife felt as if it gained a ton. He felt the kick to shut down or lie, something easy, something quick, but there was a gentleness to her request. There was consent. There was that conversation earlier in the day. They’d take things slow.

It was okay to take things slow. He didn’t have to overthink this.

“Another time, maybe.” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t like to…to think about it, or discuss it. Sorry.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I get it, trust me.” She wiped her hand off on a dishtowel before passing him the actual carrots. “I understand the difference between something you don’t want to discuss due to unpleasant memories, and something you don’t want to discuss because you think you shouldn’t share it with me. Big difference.”

Rosinante decided this was somehow both.

title: two fights for freedom rating: M category: F/M, gen content warnings: graphic depictions of violence status: incomplete, twenty-six chapters, 77,420 words relationships: rosinante/bell-mere, cora & law, rosinante & hatchan, bell-mere & rosinante & law & nami & nojiko, rosinante & genzo, bell-mere & genzo characters: rosinante, bell-mere, law, nami, nojiko, genzo, nako, hatchan, arlong, arlong pirates additional tags: canon divergent, fix-it, everybody lives, pre-arlong park, angst with a happy ending, angst and feels, fluff and humor, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes, sexual tension, limes (yes i'm bringing limes back), eventual smut, romance, slow burn, financial issues, broken bones, references to depression, alcoholism, mental health issues, canon backstory, mentioned doflamingo, non-canon backstory (giving bell-mere a backstory), found family, medical inaccuracies, blood and injury, trafalgar d. water law is a little shit, developing friendships, past child abuse, nightmares, self-harm, fake marriage, selective mutism, PTSD, more tags to be added later summary: freedom for one means adventure. exploring all the world has to offer, while avoiding the occasional haunting. freedom for another almost costs an arm and two daughters. a home, a village. perhaps freedom is best sought back-to-back. {a cora and bell-mère lives au}

♥

#genwrites #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #arlong park #bell mere #bell mère #bellemere #donquixote rosinante #corazon one piece #corabelle #corabell #two fights for freedom

[stranger-marauders]

fractured

twenty: the return of billy hargrove

chapter summary: After Eleven reunites with everyone at the Byers' house, the group comes up with a new game plan to close the gate for good.

chapter warnings: language

word count: 3.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

AFTER KATE AND her father had explained that their cabin would be the safest place to take Will to fix him, Steve and Nancy had gone outside to dig through the mountain of objects that sat in front of the Byers' shed. The goal was to find anything that could possibly produce heat to give to Jonathan and Joyce to take with them.

At first, the two had done their jobs in silence again. They didn't know what to say to each other, really—it had been extremely obvious that they were both completely distracted by other people, not interested in one another in the slightest. Besides, after Nancy had seemingly broken up with him at the Halloween party, after Steve had walked away from her the next morning during basketball practice, after she'd run away for a few days with Jonathan, after he'd physically gone to break up with her (the only thing stopping him was the fact that she hadn't even been home)—after everything, it was extremely obvious that they didn't belong together anymore, and they never had in the first place.

"You should go with him," Steve said, finally breaking the silence between them.

"What?"

"With Jonathan."

"No, I'm…" Nancy scoffed. "I'm not just gonna leave Mike."

"No one's leaving anyone." He walked over to her, eyeing something that looked like another space heater. "Kate and I've got it, okay? I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but… turns out I'm actually a pretty damn good babysitter."

He handed the heater to her, but she only stared at him. "Steve…"

"It's okay, Nance. It's okay."

"I…"

Before Nancy could say anything else, like she could say anything else that would change his mind, Steve walked away.

Kate walked out the front door and onto the front porch to find Mike and El inches away from a kiss.

"El… Come on, let's go. It's time," Hopper said, making the two pull away from each other.

Kate walked toward them as fast as she could, pain shooting through her body with every step she took. "I'm coming, too."

"The hell you aren't," her father replied before she could even start walking down the steps.

"I'm going with you!"

"Kathy," Steve said, putting his hand on her arm, making her stop in her tracks. He nodded toward Hopper as he threw his arm over her good shoulder.

Her father nodded back once. "We're coming back, Kate. Just stay here and rest, okay?"

"But—" Before Kate could even begin to protest, Hopper and El had both already gotten inside of the SUV. She sighed, leaning into Steve once they, as well as the Byers and Nancy, drove away. "It's not even that bad."

"What?" he said, pulling her closer into him. "Not that bad?"

She sighed again, not wanting to move. She'd been completely sidelined. Even if she was still hurt, she could've helped somehow. That was the only way she could make it up to Joyce, to Bob. She had to do something.

"Nancy and I broke up. Officially, anyway."

Kaet turned her head to him sharply. "Did she—?"

"I did." Steve stifled a laugh. "I mean, I was actually going to do it after you left my house yesterday, but that obviously didn't work out."

"Shit, Steve, I'm so sorry," she said, looping her arm around him and leaning her head closer into him. It was her best attempt at a hug, and for now, it would do the job.

At that moment, even though they wouldn't have admitted it, everything seemed to have started to fall into place.

Kate had stolen a shirt of Jonathan's to change into for the time being. She knew he wouldn't mind, and wearing the sweatshirt with the rips in it had been driving her insane, even if it was Steve's.

She and Steve had changed the bandages on her wounds once again. As they tried to wipe the additional blood she'd lost since the last time they'd changed them, they realized how much blood she'd lost, how much she was still losing. Neither of them brought any attention to it, neither that nor to how she'd almost turned green she was so pale.

After she'd cleaned herself up as much as she could, at least for the time being, she lay on the couch, trying to rest her eyes.

Steve and Kate had assigned the other kids to start cleaning up the house as they waited for the others to return. Kate thought it would be nice for Joyce to come back to a somewhat clean house, even if the paper vines still remained. While Mike, Lucas, and Max cleaned, Dustin and Steve cleared out the refrigerator, and very loudly at that.

Eventually, Kate gave up on trying to rest. She sighed, sitting up on the couch and adjusting herself upright. "Could you please keep it down in there?"

"Sorry, Kathy."

"Sorry," Dustin called. He turned to Steve, who carried the dead Demodog that El had launched through the window earlier in a towel. "It should fit now."

"Is this really necessary?"

"Yes, it is, okay? This is a groundbreaking scientific discovery. We can't just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It's not a dog."

"How many times have you said the word Demodog tonight?" Kate asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

Steve's face grew with worry. "Kathy, please go lay back down—"

"I'm fine."

While she sounded much better than she had before, she still certainly didn't look fine. She'd gotten better at standing on her own two feet, but her walking was still poor. She was able to move around on her own, but not as well as she could've been. Steve was absolutely sure that she was purely running on adrenaline and nervous energy. With that being said, she certainly wasn't well enough to constantly be on her feet, especially when there wasn't any reason for her to be.

Steve sighed, turning to Dustin. "You're explaining this to Mrs. Byers, all right?" Whenever he started to cram the carcass into the refrigerator, he already struggled making the Demodog fit into such a small space. "Christ, help me out."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Get the door, man. The door."

"All right, I got the door."

"Ew, Jesus—"

"God—"

Kate couldn't help but laugh at the two of them as they struggled to cram it inside of the refrigerator. Whenever they finally got the Demodog inside, slamming the door shut, Steve ruffled the hair on Dustin's head, the hat on top of his hair, of course, before he tried to move next to Kate. He had almost gotten his arm around her again before she took a step back. "For the love of God, please wash your hands after that."

Steve pressed his lips together whenever she laughed again, walking over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

"How much convincing did that take?" she asked, moving next to him and leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Oh, not much," Steve said, turning the water on. "Just threatened my happiness and wellbeing, so…"

Kate stifled a laugh. "He's literally thirteen years old. What's he gonna do?"

"Okay, in my defense, you were horrifying when we were thirteen."

"I mean, yeah, but that's because I had special cause," she explained. She counted out the reasons on her fingers as he washed his hands. "Cop kid, violent streak, bitch. It adds up."

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, turning the water back off before he grabbed a kitchen towel to dry his hands. "I mean, you're not wrong, I just meant you were scary in general."

She scoffed, trying to act offended. "Are you seriously calling me a bitch, Steven?"

"No, no, no! I didn't… It's not like that—!"

Her giggling had been the thing to cut him off. "Oh my God, I'm kidding. I'm self-aware."

Before he could reply, however, both Steve and Kate picked up on the argument that erupted between the four kids in the living room. They both quickly exchanged glances before joining in on the conversation.

"Mike, would you just stop already?"

"You weren't in there, okay, Lucas?" Mike said. "That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs."

"Demodogs!" Dustin shouted.

"Listen, the Chief will take care of her," Lucas said.

"Like she needs protection," Max muttered aloud.

Steve finally decided to step in. "Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?" He still held the kitchen towel in his hands, drying them off still.

"Okay, first of all, this isn't some stupid sports game. And second, we're not even in the game. We're on the bench," Mike retorted.

"Yeah, right, s–so my point is…" Steve cut himself off, hesitating to go on. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to finish. Even Kate was watching him closely—she knew how he could give the absolute worst advice. "Right, yeah, we're on the bench, so, uh, there's nothing we can do."

As Steve threw the towel he used to dry his hands over his shoulder, Dustin said, "That's not entirely true." Everyone turned to look at him before he continued on. "I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away."

"So if we get their attention…," Lucas started.

"Maybe we can draw them from the lab," Max said.

"Clear a path to the gate," Mike added.

"Yeah, and then we all die!" Steve interjected.

"Well, that's one point of view," Kate retorted.

Steve turned to her, staring at her in concern. "Seriously? How are you agreeing with them?" He shook his head as she put her hands up in surrender. "No, that's not a point of view, Kathy. That's a fact."

"I'm sorry, I'd rather not have both members of my immediate family die at the same damn time."

Before Steve and Kate could continue bickering, Mike walked behind them, moving into the kitchen. When the kids had followed him, Steve and Kate followed, too. "This is where the Chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel. So…" He ran off to another spot in the house. "Here. Right here. This is like a hub." He moved to where they'd found Hopper, standing on top of the cluster of papers. "So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…"

"Oh yeah? That's a no," Steve interjected.

"The Mind Flayer would call away his army," Dustin said, ignoring him.

"They'd all come to stop us," Lucas said.

"We circle back to the exit," Mike continued.

"Guys," Steve said, but the kids and Kate continued on like he wasn't even there.

"By the time they realize we're gone…"

"El and my dad would be at the Gate," Kate finished.

"Hey, hey, hey! This is not happening," Steve said, clapping his hands with every "hey."

"But—"

"No, no, no, no, no! No buts. I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here, on the bench, and we're waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand?"

"This isn't a stupid sports game," Mike said, giving him a disgusted look.

"I said does everybody understand that?" Steve replied. "I need a yes."

Kate rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mom."

As the kids tried to stifle their little laughs, Steve's face grew red. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, an engine revved from outside.

Max ran to the window first, but all the kids looked out the glass to see who it was. Without having to move, Kate sighed, exchanging glances with Steve. She could tell who had arrived outside just by the sound of the engine.

"It's my brother," Max said, almost fearful. "He… He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me. He'll kill us."

"I'd like to see him try," Kate replied.

Steve only looked out the window as he watched Billy pull into the driveway. "I have an idea."

Steve had told Kate and the kids to stay inside while he dealt with Billy Hargrove. While the kids watched from the living room window, Kate had placed herself behind the door, leaning against the wall just in case something Steve's plan went to shit. From where she stood, she could hear almost everything going on outside. Almost everything.

From the porch, Steve watched as Billy stepped out of his car, taking a drag on his cigarette. "Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?"

"Yeah, it's me, don't cream your pants."

Billy took off his jacket as he slammed his car door shut. "What're you doing here, amigo?"

Steve and Billy met between the car and the house. "I could ask you the same thing. Amigo."

"Lookin' for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here."

"Huh, that's weird. I don't know her."

"Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch, just like your little Blondie."

Steve held his tongue before he could punch him just for the comment about Kate. He knew he couldn't hit him. Not if he wanted his plan to work. "Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry, buddy."

Billy took the cigarette out of his mouth and sighed. "You know, I don't know, this… this whole situation, Harrington, I don't know. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

He took another drag of his cigarette. "My thirteen-year-old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger's house, and you lie to me about it."

Steve chuckled. "Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?" Billy laughed, blowing smoke in his face as he continued. "I don't know what you don't understand about what I just said. She's not here."

"Then who is that?" Billy asked, pointing to something in front of him with his cigarette.

Steve turned around to find all four kids peeking out the front window. Whenever the kids realized they had been seen, they all four jumped back down behind the couch.

"Shit! Did he see us?" Dustin asked.

Kate looked over to the kids, seeing their newly adapted location. "If you guys were looking over the couch, then yeah, definitely." She quickly turned her head against the door again, trying to listen to what was going on outside. When that wasn't much help, she looked through the peephole of the door, hoping she could possibly see them a bit better or something.

Steve felt a pit in his stomach whenever he looked back at Billy. "Oh shit. Listen—"

Before Steve could say anything else, Billy pushed him to the ground with a slight shove. "I told you to plant your feet." Without another word from him, he kicked Steve hard in the chest, trying to ensure that he wouldn't come after him. 

"Shit," Kate whispered, backing up from the door as it swung open. She stood in front of the kids, trying her best to look as defensive as possible. She had no idea what he'd done to Steve to get through the door, but it had obviously been enough to where he hadn't come back yet.

"Well, well, well," Billy said, his eyes landing on Max. He slammed the door, moving closer toward Kate and the kids. "Lucas Sinclair, what a surprise."

"Leave them alone, Billy," Kate warned, but it was no use. She even sounded weak when she spoke. 

"You're here, too? What're the odds of that?" Billy said, moving closer to her. Kate shivered—Steve needed to come back now. For every step Billy took closer to her, she took a step backward toward the wall until eventually, he had her where he wanted her: close and cornered by him. He moved closer to her, and Kate tried to move away from him. She could smell the cigarettes he'd recently smoked on his breath. "Damn, you look like hell. He hurt you or something?"

"Get out of here," Kate said coolly.

"He do this to you?" 

"Billy, I said get out."

He got closer to her face. "Not unless you and Maxine come with me."

She scoffed. "You serious?" Whenever he didn't back down, she spit directly in his face. "That answer your question?"

Kate almost immediately regretted her decision as he threw her to the ground, moving on to his next target after he'd wiped his face off as the kids called her name. When her head hit back against the wall, then the floor, she lost consciousness for only a second, her ears ringing whenever she made impact with the ground. When she opened her eyes again, her vision was fuzzy, and her wounds started to burn in pain again.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max," Billy said, moving toward the kids again.

As things started to escalate inside the Byers' home, Kate's ears rang, and she still couldn't quite comprehend what was happening around her. Even if she couldn't truly comprehend what was going on, she tried peeling herself off the floor. The kids, the kids, the kids—

"Billy, go away," Max replied. She almost seemed as if she was trying not to cry.

"You disobeyed me," he said, ignoring her. "And you know what happens when you disobey me."

"Billy…"

"I break things." Before anyone could react, he took Lucas by the jacket and shoved him against the wall of Joyce's chain cabinet. As the kids called for Billy to let him go, Kate still fought to get off the floor, watching as Lucas struggled. It almost seemed to be of no use—the little strength she'd gotten back had just as quickly been taken away from her.

"Since Maxine won't listen to me, maybe you will," Billy said. "You stay away from her. Stay away from her! You hear me?"

"I said get off me!" Lucas shouted, kneeing him in the crotch. Billy let him down, an instinctual release because of the pain.

Before Kate could pick herself up off the floor, someone, seemingly coming from nowhere, lifted her up, trying to get her back to her feet. At first, she wasn't able to process who it was or what they were saying to her, but whenever she heard the name "Kathy" (of course, after being followed by many apologies and such), she knew exactly who it had been.

As she got to her feet again, she only watched as Billy gained his balance again, but now seemed even angrier than he had been before. "You're so dead, Sinclair! You're dead."

Steve had moved toward him since helping Kate up off the floor, pushing Billy to face him. "No." A pause. "You are!" Before Billy could reply, he punched him square in the face, knocking him back.

Kate leaned up against the wall, just beginning to process the situation. "Steve!" She knew he couldn't win a fight to save his life.

Billy laughed as he came back from the punch, his nose bleeding. "Looks like you got some fire in you after all, huh? I've been waiting to hear about this King Steve everybody's been telling me so much about!"

Steve put two fingers to his chest, pushing Billy away from him. "Get out."

Billy stared at him for only a moment before throwing a punch of his own.

As the two began to punch each other, Dustin shouted, "Yes! Kick his ass, Steve!"

Kate only stared like a deer in headlights. She only hoped he'd make it—if Steve couldn't even win a fight with Jonathan, there was no way he would be able to win a fight against Billy Hargrove.

Billy only laughed maniacally as he smashed a plate against Steve's head, making him lose his balance for enough time to let Billy pin him to the ground and to start beating the absolute shit out of him.

"Stop! You're going to kill him!" Kate shouted, running to try to tear Billy off of Steve. However, it was no use—Billy wasn't even fazed by her in the slightest.

That was when Max came over to them with a syringe, one that Mike had grabbed from Hawkins Laboratory, and plunged it into Billy's neck. He stood up and stared at Max, who now stood next to Kate, pulling the needle out of his neck.

"The hell is this?" he said, moving closer to the two girls.

"The paralytic," she said, turning to Max. She had never been so thankful for someone to steal something before.

"You little shit, what did you do?" Billy asked, stepping toward them. With every step forward he took, the girls took another step back. Before he could get to them, however, he passed out on the floor. He wasn't unconscious, however—he was laughing.

Kate moved to the floor next to Steve, trying to get him to do something, anything. She looked at his face, her breath hitching in her throat. He looked even worse than she did now with his face completely coated in blood, his nose crooked, both of his eyes black, his lip busted—she had never seen him so beat up before. He was almost unrecognizable. "Steve. Hey, Steve, talk to me. Can you hear me? Steve—"

As she went on, trying her best to bring him back to consciousness, Max picked up his bat, holding it defensively in front of Billy. "From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?"

"Screw you," Billy muttered weakly.

Max slammed the bat down right in between his legs, landing on the floor, but inches away from his crotch. "Say you understand! Say it! SAY IT!"

"I understand," Billy muttered.

"What?" Max asked again, raising the bat again. His almost inaudible muttering had obviously not been enough of a response from him for her. 

"I understand," he repeated, pushing himself to be louder.

Max threw the bat to the floor as Billy finally fell unconscious. The girl belt down and reached for his keys, holding them up and shaking them once she'd gotten them off his belt. "Let's get out of here."

next chapter

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