#{ boys mock each other while having a casual conversation. more at 8 }

[tcthinecwnself-a]

@lets-get-dxngerous​ from [X]

“You’d be doing your world a favor, not mine.” A hand goes up to flick his counterpart’s beak. People in his world adored him, worshiped him even. He had everything under order by having everything out of order. What would they do without him? “Why even bother with sidekicks, Dark? Doesn’t that lump of meat slow you down? I’ve seen it happen.”

[boxofbadaddiction]

A Reason to Smile

Fred Weasley x Reader

This Story is inspired from a request of my Movie Lines Prompt List.

Prompts: 4, 10 & 16

"Let's put a smile on that face."/"Go ahead, make my day."/"Yippee ki yay, Motherfucker."

Warnings: Swearing. Umbridge.

Y/n woke up in a foul mood. With less than 3 hours sleep after having spent the whole night in detention with Umbridge and just can't seem to find a reason to smile. Even the thought of spending the day with her best friends, Fred and George, fills her with somewhat dread.

She doesn't want to see anyone. Do anything. Or go anywhere. Which is totally unideal for a Saturday. If things were to go her way she'd just roll over and stay in bed.

But she's starving so there's just no avoiding the inevitable.

Begrudgingly she pulls herself from her bedsheets and readies for breakfast.

As she arrives in the Great Hall she keeps her eyes trained to the floor, bee-lining for a place far enough away from the other students in her House to simply eat in peace before disappearing back to her dorm for the day.

But of course, with Fred and George as your best friends, how could she have possibly expected that to go to plan?

"Hey, y/n/n!" One of the Twins shout as they made their way over to her House table for breakfast. Their typical peppy demeanour mocked her, as it seemed impossible to draw herself from her current bad mood. Unable to even muster a fake, courteous smile for the sake of conversation.

"What happened to you last night?" spoke George as they sat either side of their dishevelled appearing friend. "Popped out to hand in some homework and we never saw you again. What'd you get lost?" He teased, nudging her shoulder in the process while his brother chuckled at the remark.

"I'm sorry I disappeared but please guys not today. I'm not in the mood."

"Woah, what's with the tone, love? And not in the mood? Please! You're always in the mood for us" Fred goaded pulling y/n into his side by her waist. A guesture which would usually have her leaning into his touch but not today.

She shook herself from his hold with a huff, leaning onto the table she propped her head up by the palm of her hand.

Neither Twin knew how to react, she'd never been so put off by them before. "Y/n...are you okay?" Fred asked sincerely. Both boys were eyeing her concernedly.

Y/n avoided eye contact, staring fixedly at her, now cold, bowl of porridge as she stabbed at it with her spoon. That's when Fred noticed it. The pink discolouration on the back of her hand. His heart dropped at the sight. She'd obviously been with Umbridge last night.

"Y/n-" his voice was firm as he spoke, drawing her and Georges attention immediately, his eyes flicked briefly to hers before focusing solely on the forming scar. "Your hand."

"It's nothing." Y/n straightened herself tucking her hand into her lap with a slight wince as the fabric of her clothes caught the still tender surface of her wound. Her other hand came to grip at its forearm to distract herself from the dull throbbing pain which now coursed through her hand.

"It's not nothing!" Fred snapped harshly, but as a whisper so not to draw too much unwanted attention.

George delicately reached across her lap lifting her injured hand into the light, his own eyes near shaking as they searched desperately between hers and his brothers expressions before inspecting the words she'd been forced to carve into her own flesh all night.

"I will obey the rules" he read the words aloud, the very phrase causing a sick bile to rise in each boys throat.

"I was busted on my way back. She told me I need to 'be more aware of the company I keep' less something like this happen again" y/n mumbled with distaste, her eyes locked determinedly onto the tables edge.

There was a moments silence between the three, all seemingly afraid to speak, before George stood abruptly, storming from the hall. An action which caused y/n to close her eyes tightly, drawing a sharp breath in, attempting to distract from the tightness that'd formed in her chest in knowing the effect her words had on the pair.

She never intended on telling them about the detention. They'd surely blame themselves for her being out past curfew as it was their idea to meet up in the first place. But it's not like she didn't understand the risk of what she was doing when she did it.

They knew those few words all too well. Umbridge had spoken them to her before, countless times by this point.

The first time, the Twins had been pestering y/n in the courtyard when she approached. They were lounged about one of the concrete benches under the courtyards largest tree. Freds head was in Y/ns lap, as she read, poking her cheek in an attempt to gain her full attention whilst George sat on her otherside, all his weight pressing against her as he sighed boredly.

Umbridge had deemed their behaviour 'not school appropriate' and 'not in compliance' with Educational Decree Number 31; as Boys and Girls are not permitted to be within 8 inches of each other.

The Brothers had laughed at her, a poorly timed 'you're kidding' thrown her way as Fred swung his legs off the bench now sitting upright. A few more cheekily placed comments landed the pair in detention for the night.

She highly disapproved of y/ns relationship with the Twins and had no issue voicing the fact and so before parting she'd issued that very same warning to y/n, stating matter-of-factly; "You should be more cautious of the company which you keep. Such a promising young witch, it'd be a shame to see your talents go to waste or future be tarnished for that matter by the carelessness of others whom are less gifted." She'd uttered the words with sharp glares thrown down her nose to the two Weasleys.

From that moment it'd become somewhat of a catch phrase for her everytime the threesome caught her attention.

Y/ns head dropped, mumbling a soft "I'm sorry, Fred."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, love." He rubbed small comforting circles on the lower of her back before pulling her waist as he had done so earlier. Inching closer so their legs were pushed flush together as he rest his chin atop her shoulder nestling into her neck. A touch which, this time, she did not shy away from - rather craning her head back to rest against his.

"I just don't think I'm someone you'll want to be around today." She admitted sadly, "I can't bring myself to enjoy anything."

"Well that just won't do" Fred pulled his head back to look into her eyes with a cheeky knowing expression. But even that wasn't enough to bring a rise to her saddened features. "Come on," he nudged her shoulder, "let's put a smile on that face." He spoke with a smirk.

"Reckon you can?"

"Of course!" Fred nodded with a tone of absolutely certainty.

"Well go ahead, make my day." Y/n challenged, which brought an excited smile to Freds face. He jumped from his place at the table holding an expectant hand out for her to take which she accepted a little hesitantly.

"Should we go find George? See if he's okay?"

"Nah, he'll be fine. Besides, this way I get you all to myself." Fred squeezed her hand a little tighter as he all but dragged his friend from the Hall.

A few hours had past and Fred were still relentlessly determined to make today one of the best days possible for y/n. Surprisingly he'd started off small with a just few well timed jokes and casual strolls around the Castle simply trying to keep her occupied on anything other than those toxic thoughts that kept her from enjoying the day.

As lunch approached he'd upped his game. Grabbing a few snacks from the kitchens and taking her down to her favourite place by the Lake where they spent the time talking together; sharing various stories while Fred told countless jokes to make her laugh and spoke of their newest inventions for the joke shop.

Y/n was sure she hadn't stopped smiling since the moment they'd left the Hall. Fred just had that effect on her but with every small guesture and tender smile thrown her way there was just no stopping the butterflies that erupt in her chest or the warmth that spread to her cheeks from his flirty comments and kind words.

By this point she'd nearly forgotten the whole reason he were so determined to make today so memorable.

But Georges absence and the light stinging in her hand was a nagging little reminder at the back of her mind which stopped her from falling wholly into the moment.

"Alright, Miss." Fred shot up from his place on the grass, dusting his hands on his jeans as he did so. "Onto grander things!" He held his hands out for her to take, pulling her giggling figure from the ground. "What could you possibly have planned now?" "Oh just a little mischief." He grinned as his tongue grazed his bottom lip before threading itself between his teeth, eyeing her closely. Y/ns eyes narrowed at his words untrusting of whatever plan his brain had suddenly cooked up. There were no time to question however as she were promptly being pulled to the Castle as the Sun fell below the horizon.

"You dragged me back to the Castle like a man possessed for dinner!?" Y/n questioned as they entered the Great Hall alongside countless of the other Hogwarts residents.

"Well yes and no. Yes; because you need to have a proper meal today aside from a couple sad mouthfuls of porridge and a dozen sweets. No; because for my next trick we will in fact be needing our beloved Georgie." "Do you think he's okay?" "One way to find out isn't there? OI! George!" Fred pushed through the dawdling individuals in the aisles between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, pulling y/n along behind him to where his Twin were currently seated for dinner.

"Hey Georgie" y/n began in a sad tone as she sat beside him. "Are you okay?" She stroked his arm reassuringly as she spoke. "Yeah I'm fine. Sorry I took off this morning I-" "ah-ah!" Fred piped from her otherside, "no morning talk. Look you're ruining all my good work!" He commented pointing to the concerned frown which were now upon y/ns features. "What?" "Dear Freddie here has been spending the day trying to get my mind off things." "Right right...Ginny mentioned something about Fred dragging you around the school all day." "Yes, and until now it'd been working so just...perk up. Which shouldn't be hard once I tell you my plan" Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Plan?" "Know that thing we've been dying to try but haven't had the occasion?" he stated vaguely which had concern growing in the pit of y/ns stomach. Concern which only worsened as she watched how Georges features shifted swiftly from one of slight disinterest to immediate excitement. "Really? You wanna do that tonight?" His smile was wicked and a little frightening in y/ns opinion as he questioned his brother who merely hummed in response. "Reckon I can name a few select members of a certain 'club' who would make excellent guinea pigs." Continued George in a whisper over top of y/n "You've read my mind." Fred took a sip from a drink y/n had just poured, for herself mind you.

Y/ns focus was shifting worriedly between the two brothers who sat on her either side sharing an unspoken understanding.

"Stop doing that you're freaking me out!" She snapped which caused the boys to laugh, George mumbling a simple "You're in for a treat" as he turned his attention back to his dinner with a sly grin.

Y/n looked back to Fred hoping for some kind of hint or reassurance but he just smiled, wrapping his arm round her waist and pulling her into his side as he began to eat.

"You really think you're going to get away with this?" Y/ns voice rang throughout the empty corridor. "Only one way to find out" Fred wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The pair were currently hiding around the corner of the 7th floor main corridor. It were past curfew as the Twins plan fell into play.

"Explain to me again what exactly these things are?" Y/n asked as she fiddled with a small cylindrical canister. "Paint bombs." Fred answered excitedly. "Similar to Dungbombs just-" "with paint?" "Pretty much, yeah. You pull this little tab, then you have about 7 seconds before it goes off. This one in particular is my favourite so far." "And whys that?" "You'll see" Fred smiled brightly down at her before the sound of approaching footsteps put an end to their conversation.

George barrelled down the hallway, throwing himself into the pair very much out of breath but with a smile as wide as Fred's had been moments ago.

"All set?" "Yeah. They should be coming through any minute now." The three craned their necks around the walls edge, waiting for their unsuspecting victims. It didnt take long before the sound of several pairs of agitated feet came stomping through the corridor.

Filch followed by a handful of the Inquisitorial Squad were huddled together in shared annoyance by the antics of George which were leading them directly into their trap. Various curses and angry grumbles could only faintly be heard over the distance between them.

"Right" Fred whispered as the three ducked back behind the wall, he gave George and y/n a quick nod before tearing the small tab from it's place. "Yippe Ki Yay, Motherfucker." He spoke dramatically as he stepped out, throwing the Paint Bomb like a grenade towards the befuddled group of Slytherins and accompanying Caretaker.

Quickly shooting himself back behind the wall where all three waited with baited breaths and backs pressed flush to the cold stone wall.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret showing you Die Hard." Y/n mumbled, a comment which brought a wide smile to Freds face as he looked down to her. A few more seconds past before a loud crack and angry shouts echoed through the Castle.

Y/n looked in amazement to see the Hall covered in multicoloured, sparkling, paint as well as orange and gold confetti. There was something beautiful about it she thought. All the vibrant pinks, blues and purples caught the eye like a giant canvas painting. Aside from the ugly squabbling creature, that had once been the Inquisitorial Squad, at the pieces centre of course.

She was in tears from laughing at the sight when Fred leant down to speak in her ear "whataya think?" "I think it's brilliant!" She smiled up at him, "that's the messiest one we've got." He nodded in the direction of the chaos currently unfolding before them.

The group were slipping over themselves and wiping hands down their faces in disgust over the thick liquid which coated them all, as well as the ceiling and walls.

"It was also the only one." George scowled though clearly very amused. "Worth it though wouldn't you say?" "Absolutely."

Freds eyes turned back to y/n, admiring her laughing figure beside him.

"We'll count that one a success heya, Freddie?" George nudged but his brothers trance was not so easily broken. "Definitely" he smiled not turning away from her.

"Shit!" Y/n exclaimed suddenly. "Yeah, I'd say it's time to go." George stated as he watched the very colourful and very angry group now charging after them.

George took off in a sprint but it weren't till y/n began running, taking a hold of Freds hand as she did so that he fully registered what was going on and started to run too.

Fred and Y/n had ended up in her common room after losing George. Luckily it were late enough that not many people were still hanging about so the two pretty much had the place to themselves. Spending a few more moments just being together and reliving the day by the fire, it weren't till the clock struck 12am that Fred admit he should be getting back to his dormitory. Not that he wanted to but y/n needed to sleep after her restless night prior, he hadn't meant to keep her up this late to begin with.

Pulling her from the couch he walked her to the bottom of her dorm rooms staircase where she stood a couple stairs from the bottom to match his height.

It'd slipped the pairs notice that they were still holding one anothers hand until their joined laughter faltered and the warmth in their palms caused realisation to strike. Fred dropped the hold clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thank you for today, Freddie." Y/n smiled warmly. "Pretty memorable, aye? Told you I'd get you smiling." He rocked confidently on the balls of his feet. Y/n shook her head slightly as she absent-mindedly stroked his arm. "Don't know what I'd do without you." "Probably nag George" he joked.

"As much as I love Georgie, it wouldn't be the same" Freds eyes studied her face the whole time she spoke. He could feel his heart begin to race inside his chest. If only she knew how much he wished he could hear her say she loved him.

"Goodnight, Freddie" y/n placed a light kiss to his cheek, grip tightening ever-so-slightly on his bicep before turning slowly to leave.

His heart was thundering now. Breaths rapid as his body urges him to speak. To tell her everything.

How he's in love with her and he's sure she feels the same way.

How she's the first thing on his mind of a morning and the last thing at night. How his whole family has been pushing him to just pluck up the courage and ask her out already. How nothing makes him happier than seeing her smile. How he never wanted to go to the Ball as 'just friends'. How he smells her perfume in Amortentia. That the sight of her at breakfast this morning, so down and distraught, broke his heart. How for the last few hours it's taken near all his strength to stop himself kissing her with as much love and passion as he can to show her how much she means to him.

But how do you convey all that to someone who has been your best friend for the past 5 years? No clue. But he has to try and he knows he'll never get this kind of opportunity again.

"Y/n, wait-" he grabs her arm, taking a step towards her he pulls her into his chest. Before he can process it his hand is cupping her cheek and he's kissing her with such intensity y/n can feel the air leave her lungs as she melts into him. Her arms snaking over his body. A hand running itself along his shoulder, fingers entangling themselves in the locks of hair at the base of his neck, whilst the other wraps tightly around his torso.

When they finally break apart Fred's on cloud nine. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right. But at the same time, he's panicking. God, he hopes she truly does feel the same way and he didn't just completely misread everything about their relationship. Their foreheads are pressed together as y/ns lips form a wide smile.

"If you wanted to give me a reason to smile today...you could have just started with that."

[yvainegelinemarie]

How The MLQC Bois React When You Do A ‘Baby/Cutesy Talk’ To Them.

🖤🦋🖤Idk if anyone has done this one yet so here it goes...

𝚨𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌: ✨ ALL my writing promts are gender inclusive and promote love, kindness and fun for all! 

✨I know that each and every one of our boys would love and support each and everyone of you and I hope that my readings portray that comforting, accepting and loving nature through and through~ 

✨And with that I hope you Spookies enjoy~~

☪ 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

☪ 𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌:18+  Has mild talk about sex, mentions drinking/alcohol. 

☪ 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖙 : Quick Read, bullet points 

𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖔|10/10

He eats the baby talk up!!! And does it right back to you with so much ease!

You guys have full on conversations with just the two of you using baby talk towards one another.

And you both have no problem doing it in public and annoying all your friends with how mushy and maybe a bit cringey you two can be.

Most of your baby talk conversations is the two of you whining back and forth about wanting food.

“Aww, Kiro can I pwlese haves a snack now? It’s been a few howers pwlesee?! 🥺🥺”

“Bwut what if I want a snack moreeeee?!”

You two stare at one another intensely with large, watery, puppy dog eyes and quivered lips.

Neither one of you is going down this easily over the remaining sweet candy that you have left. 

Kiro will ALWAYS use the cute talk on you when you are trying to keep him from eating sweets as Savin ordered. But the moment he brings out the cute voice and the puppy dog eyes you have lost.

It’s just so hard to not cave in to such a cute face!!! 

But it’s okay because he can’t resist yours either.

You and Kiro’s guttonness and cutesy manipulative ways towards one another can sadly only go on for so long before the fun comes to a painful hault.

It seems that you two have indulged in a little too much of the sweet treats, leaving you both to most likely take up a very simple yet painful month of dieting. 

Which is then filled to the max with pouty expressions and W words in hopes to just get one cookie from the bakery you passed on your daily run. 

𝓥𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗|5/10

The world will NEVER know this side of Victor. 

He would probably throw himself off a bridge if anyone heard him use a cute voice towards you or anyone for that matter.

Even your future children and cute puppies will NEVER witness such a pure and child-like state with your stubborn CEO boyfriend. 

BUT surprisingly enough he has done it a few times.

You always tease him for it since he likes to make fun of you for when you try to use your cute voice to beg for pudding or a longer time for your deadlines. 

And although this tough looking CEO wouldn’t admit it, he likes seeing you pout your lip and add a W to every two words of sentence.

The one and ONLY time victor has ever used the cutesy voice on you was when you were really sick and asking for soup. 

He was caring for you for about a week now with little to no progress of your health improving. 

And aside for all the nagging you were getting from him for overworking yourself he was truly worried about you.

Now that your cold was coming to and end and with Victor in a tired state and comfortable enough to relieve himself of worry, along with being a bit flirtatious (probably from light sips of whisky he had been drinking to keep himself in motion) the cute words just kind of...slipped out...

You are in complete shock as your brain is trying to process what it just heard. 

Did Victor really just say “does my whittle dummy want some swoup?”

Trust me he is just as shocked as you are as he quickly escapes the bedroom with cheeks as red as a cherry.

He is so shocked in fact that it takes you a good three hours to get your soup so he could have some time to regain himself after the embarrassing encounter.

To this day he is still haunted by it as you taunt him every once in a while for it.

*poking his forehead lightly with playful giggles* “Aww, Come on Victor, don’t chu want to mwake me some swoup?” 

“If you have time to bother me then maybe I should consider raising your deadline to three days instead of the end of the week?” 

And with that you scurry out at lighting speed leaving Victor to wallow in his face palmed blushes. 

𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓|8/10

Lucien LOVES the shit out of your cutesy talk.

BUT is probably the only one capable of not letting you get your way with it every time.

He loves to tease you not the other way around! 

His plans would be foiled if just your cute little voice defeated him.

He will however use a cute voice in comparison to yours. 

He likes when you say little words in a cute way like tank you instead of thank you or putting a w in pretty please 

and he will repeat them back to you the same way you said it. In a mocking yet flirtatious kind of way.

After a soft chuckle Lucien looks to you. “Pweety Pwlease?” He questions as you puff your cheeks at the fact that he doesn’t seem phased by your cuteness.

His eyes however, quiver with complete delight at just how cute you are to him.

Your Scorpio boi can only hide his feelings for so long and despite his calming expression his eyes alone can only hold what is truly running through his brain. 

There are times the Professor falls victim to your cute ways but they usually end in some more...explicit moments with you. 👀

You learn rather quickly that this seems to be one of the very few things you have in control over Lucien, unlike the multiple ways he has control over you. 

Though, your ways of manipulation are nothing to take lightly either. 

Lucien seems to be really focused with work right now. Staying up all day and all night eyes glued to books or his tablet filled with words that just give you a bit of a headache.

And despite not hating Lucien’s passion and hardworking energy towards his career you are now starting to realize that it’s been almost a month since you have been close and intimate with him.

So much so that you can’t even remember what his gorgeous body looks like under all that lab coat. 

And desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Setting yourself up into cutness overdrive and plopping yourself right down and in front of your boyfriends work and onto his lap 

along with a simple tilt of your head and eyes as wide as the moon doesn’t take long for all the blood to rush to you know where for Lucien. 

And when Lucien falls victim to you he FALLS. but he’s not a man who enjoys failure. (So be prepare for one intense and intimate ride.)

His sex drive and stamina is not something to question and if you sneeze just two octaves higher than normal 

you’ll most likely be attending his lecture with wet, shaking knees. 

𝕲𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓|7/10

Also loves your baby talk and will say it back to you casually.

It is something that he only does around you though and doesn’t let anyone see.

Gavin is 100% those TikTok videos where the girls are recording their boyfriends cutesy talking to them and then instantly start talking in a deep voice the moment they see the camera. 😂

Will use it a lot when you aren’t feeling good and goes nutso bananas if you use it to reward him.( Kind of like a puppy. 😂)

“Was ywu a tood boyfwriend today? Wes. Wes you were.” *Gives Gavin happy head pats*

Gavin is also a huge sucker for your cute ways and will not hesitate to compliment you on your new hair accessory, the way you did your makeup, or how you added a new watch to match the bracelet he gave you.

He’s actually really good at paying attention to small details despite not being the romantic.

And with this you'll find him getting you cute treats and toys to cheer you up. 

And even if he truly doesn’t quite understand why you are so obsessed and squeal as loud as you can when you see pusheen he can’t say that he hates seeing how excited you get when admiring the cute and simple things of life.

One moment in particular that will always be engraved in Gavin’s head is seeing you hold the chubby grey cat plushie as much as you could in your arms

you were practically swallowed behind it, it was just as big as you were, if not more.

Seeing you walk through the store and doing your best to avoid falling over not daring to let go of the giant fluff ball of cuteness sent a pierce through Gavin’s heart.

How the hell can they be so cute?!? Was the only thought running through Gavin’s head the entire time. 

And once he regained his composure he helped guide you through the store by your arm. 

Sadly you had to part ways with the kitty plushie when a small child became just as in awe of it as you were and knowing she was the last one, handed it over kindly.

Seeing you a bit sad only put Gavin in a low mood before motivating him to an idea.

And with that; a few weeks later a new fluffy, plushie cat as big as your front door awaited the front of your apartment with a cute (is that letter blood stained???) note from Gavin. 

𝐒𝖍𝖆𝖜|-9000/10

Hatesssss! The baby talk with a passion and will not ever use it with you.

You made the mistake to use it on him once and the amount of awkwardness in his expression was overbearing.

The two of you just sat in your apartment blinking wide eyed at one another in silence.

Shaw broke the awkwardness first by just flat out saying “yeah, no.”

And with that you sulked back into your seat realizing that he didn’t seem phased at all by how cute you were.

And for a moment a bit ticked off. I am cute Shaw?! Don’t ignore me like that! UGH! He can be so nerve racking sometimes!!

Despite not being a big fan of the voice, after dating Shaw for a while you have come to find that he doesn’t mind you doing cute things with him like cuddling up together, squishing his cheeks, or rubbing your face on his ect.

Playing with his hair when he’s strumming away on his bass or latching onto his neck when his skateboard slips from under your feet are some of his favorite moments with you.

But the big eyes and pout get him ALL the time!

He will try his best not to be swayed by them especially when the tears seem genuine.

Shaw and your relationship is like when the older sibling hits the younger one and they start crying and the older one starts to freak out. That. That’s you and Shaw. 

𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖚𝖘|𝐒𝖍𝖆𝖜

When he gets drunk he uses the baby talk on you!

Will mumble on his words but tell you just how pretty and cute you are.

But you know that if you bring it up to him he will never drink around you again so you have to keep it as a little secret between you and your friends

You even have recordings and voice messages of him drunk off his ass and calling you just to say.

“Babbbyyyy, I mwissed ywu so muchhh!! Ywu are dhe pwrettiest girl I know and I luv ywu and I just want to kiss your cute wittle face!”

He’s also a very clingy and loving drunk who can’t seem to stop from covering your face in kisses.

It is most definitely a moment in time that you will happily remember for years and years. 

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖓𝐤 𝖄𝖔𝖚!!! Spookies for giving this a read and for giving me the opportunity to share something fun and light hearted with you guys about all our favorite Evolvers. 

✨ I am hoping that more writings are to come to you guys from me but this is all a fairly new and a bit out of my comfort zone to do haha  so please be patient with me. 

✨ But please be open to comment feedback you may have through this post and In my asks on what you thought about this and if you guys enjoy more bullet point writings like this or would like more of a story style. I would love to hear what you guys have to say!!! 

[readingonpluto]

16 Days of Nessian - Day 8/16

MATURE CONTENT WARNING

Just Like Her Novels 

*If you have any ideas for fanfiction or headcanons, leave them below!*

Day 1, Day 2,  Day 3,  Day 4,  Day 5,  Day 6,  Day 7

Word count: 1777

I hardly remember writing this. Have mercy.

'A soft kiss is pressed into the side of my neck, causing a moan to escape past my lips--'

A feather-like kiss on my neck snaps me out of my book. I whip around to glare at my mate as his normal smirk setted onto his face.  

"Go away. I'm at a good part," I snap at him, turning back to the words on my page. Cassian doesn't give up that easily. 

'He nibbled on my earlobe, trailing kisses down my neck until he--'

Cassian's canines gently scrape my earlobe causing a small squeak to escape my lips. 

"Stop," I hiss, pushing his face away. 

He frowns at me. "I'm trying my best here sweetheart." 

I glare at him, once again going back to the words on my page. "Good for you. Now leave."

'Brushing my hair to the side, he breaks my flesh with his teeth. Blood dribbles down my shoulder--'

Cassian scrapes his canines gently over the exposed skin on my shoulder. 

I slam my book shut, standing up and throwing it down on the couch. I pace right up to my mate, glaring daggers at him. 

"What do you want?" I question, not backing down as he steps closer to me, towering over me, letting his wings puff out slightly.

He grins. "I'm trying to be one of the boys in your novels." 

I stare at him blankly. "By annoying me?"

"Haven't you noticed sweetheart?" He grins, kissing my bare shoulder then trailing up to my jaw. 

I clench my teeth together, trying not to give into his teasing. "Noticed what?" 

"Everything you've mumbled to yourself while you read, I've done to you." He pulls back, tilting his head, studying my face like it was the key to everything. "Say the word, and I'm yours."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He grins. "Did you know you mumble while you read?" 

I glare at him. "You've mentioned it before." 

"He nibbled on my earlobe. A soft kiss is pressed into the side of my neck. Breaks my flesh with his teeth." Cassian mocks in a feminine voice, grinning at me like a cat. 

It clicks, and I stare at him. He's been doing everything I say... 

"So?" He urges, wrapping his arms around me, gluing me to his chest. 

"Go away," I order, pushing on his chest. He holds firm. 

"Come on sweetheart," He purrs, leaning down close to my ear. "You can do better than that." 

I suck in a breath, biting my lip, as Cass brushes his nose along my neck. Need pools in my core, but I ignore it. 

"I'm trying to read." I push away again, and this time he lets go. I stride over to the couch, sitting down and pulling the book back to me, flipping it open to the page I'm on. 

He lets out a small noise that closely resembles a whimper, and strides to our bedroom. I let out a sigh, continuing with my novel. 

'Carefully he wrapped my wrists in his tie--'

Cassian strides out of our bedroom. Stark naked. 

My mouth goes dry as I stare at him as he slowly approaches me, a smirk dancing on his lips. He takes a spot right across from me and pretends to flip through a book that was on the coffee table. I continue to stare at him, already feeling the need growing stronger. 

"It's rude to stare sweetheart." He drawls, keeping his eyes on the pages. 

Slowly, I close my novel, slipping it onto the small table. I stand as Cassian's eyes slide to me, tracking my movements until I'm standing in front of the coffee table, about five meters away from him.

If he wants to play. I'll play. 

Without a word, I unbind my hair letting it fall past my shoulders. I glance up at him, at what I'm doing to him, as my hands go to my back to start undoing the laces binding my dress to me. 

Cassian makes to stand, but I snap at him. "Stay sitting." His eyes pierce mine, his smirk returning as he leans back into the couch casually. 

The silk fabric of my dress slips down my body, shortly followed by my underclothing. 

I watch as Cass licks his lips taking me in. I bite my lip--something I know that makes him see red--as I stroll over to our kitchen, swaying my hips as I go. 

When I'm behind the counter, I grin at him. "Come here." 

He's up in a second, and standing in front of me in two. 

"Don't touch me," I tell him as I start to see his hand inch towards me. His eyes are glazed with lust as they burn into me. 

Once again swaying my hips, I glance over my shoulder as I take a banana out of the fruit bowl. I turn to him, giving him a full view of my front side. Carefully, I peel the fruit in my hand. 

Cass's eyes burn into me as I throw away the peel, and break the insides in two. The first half I eat slowly, making sure to take big bites, and making sure my mate is watching my every move. When I'm done, I casually stroll over to Cass, standing mere centimeters away from his bare skin. 

"Are you hungry?" I ask him, looking up innocently. 

"Very." He nearly growls. 

Silently, I hold the fruit up to his mouth. As he eats it from my hand, I didn't think my heart could beat any faster, that is until Cass started licking the leftover taste of the fruit from my fingers. 

A deep groan slips past my lips, as Cass carefully takes my hand in his own, making sure to do a thorough job of sucking on each of my fingers. 

I press against him, sliding my hands behind his neck and pulling him down to my level. "Kiss me..." I whisper.

He smirks, pressing his lips to mine, tracing his tongue along my bottom lip. I open my mouth, and his tongue plunges in dancing with my own. A small moan escapes me, as I angle my head so he can deepen the kiss. 

"My neck..." I get out between kisses. He doesn't waste any time, attacking my neck with his lips, sucking and scraping it with his canines. 

"Mark me..." I whisper, my knees going weak with pleasure. 

"Biting or sucking?" He asks against my skin like this was a casual conversation. 

"Bite--" I don't even finish my word as Cassian's teeth sink into my soft skin. I cry out and Cassian drags his tongue over the small wound, soothing it. 

"Cass..." I mumble, taking his hand in my own and directing it to my core. He smirks against my skin continuing his kisses on my jaw and neck as his fingers start rubbing circles around my clit. I moan, taking his other hand and placing in on my chest. He immediately starts teasing the nipple, and I can only wrap my arms around his neck pulling him ever closer. 

Pleasure erupts through me, but Cassian doesn't stop his teasing. 

I lightly bite his earlobe and trail my hands down the top of his wings whispering, "Take charge..."

He explodes into action, picking me up in one scoop, letting me wrap my legs around his middle. He brings us over to a wall, pushing my back into it, pushing the tip of his member against my core but making no move to push in. Instead, he sucks on my neck, marking me more. 

"Cass..." I mumble. 

He tsks. "I'm in charge now," He hums. "And I want payback..." 

I groan as his canines again sink into my skin. I moan, running my hands down his wings. He takes a sharp intake of breath and his member twitches. 

"No wings." He orders. I don't listen, running soft fingers over the membrane. His teeth sink into my neck, and I cry out, my hands instantly leaving his wings. 

He smirks at me, hoisting me up a little higher, giving himself full access to my breast. Gently, he takes one of my nipples into his mouth and bites down gently. I breathe out his name, lacing my fingers through his messy hair. He pulls away, only to move onto the next one. 

I very nearly whimper as Cass places me back on the ground, stepping away from me. 

"Stay here," He says smirking, before slipping into our room. I clench my thighs together, the need so strong now that I'm close enough that one stroke from Cass will result in me finding release. 

Cassian comes back out, his face giving away nothing, a tie in hand. I stare at him as he approaches, grabbing my wrists gently, and knotting his tie around them, binding them together. I groan, shifting on my feet. 

Cass leans in close to me. "Follow." 

He leads me to the bedroom, pushing me down onto the bed, then tying my hands to the frames. I struggle against the ropes, mumbling out his name. 

I buck my hips, as he crawls on top of me, pressing his member into my now soaked entrance. 

"What is it you want sweetheart?" He questions, grinding against me. 

I moan loudly, fighting the bonds, trying to push him into me. He grins, trailing his tongue along my peaked nipple again. 

"Cass..." I breathe, causing him to look up at me, my nipple between his teeth. "Please..."

He smiles, deeming it word enough. Sucking along my jaw again, my mate fills my needs, slipping into me and starting a steady pace. It's only when I start crying out his name, pulling against the bonds, so close to release, do his movements grow more uneven and wild. 

He moans my name as he spills into me, and I cry out his own. 

Carefully, he pulls out of me, unbinding my hands gently. Still panting he pulls me into his side. I nuzzle into his warmth as he wraps the blanket around our shivering bodies. 

"Was it just like your novels?" He asks into my hair. 

I glance up at him, giving him a soft smile. "Better," I hum. "It was with you, and not some random guy I met in a café."

He smiles back claiming my lips again. My hand trails up his chest, right over his wings. He groans, eyes filled with a new kind of lust. 

"I have one last command..." I mummer, running a hand down the most sensitive part of his wing. 

He shudders, scraping his canines over my skin again. "What is that?"

"Do it again."

[krsnbgirl]

Fly High! || Kageyama x Fem!Reader || Part 8

Summary: Tensions are high between Hinata and Kageyama during their time in Tokyo. You can’t help but be on the sidelines and only step in when it’s necessary. Kuroo checks in with you and tries to help you relax during one of their breaks. Also, you show Kageyama that you’re going to be there for him whenever things get tough and he appreciates you for being by his side. 

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Fem!Reader

Genre: Rom-Com, Slice of Life, Sports

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist:  @misnmatchedsox​ @monviemoo​ @love-beyond-words​ @bbecc-a​

Author’s Notes: Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this update~ Anyways, how are you guys doing? Today’s been a little rough, so writing helped me escape reality for a bit, haha. As always, it will be cross posted on AO3 and I hope you guys have a great day today! Taglist is still open <3 

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 5.5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Masterlist

You purse your lips as the following day of training camp went into full throttle. The boys were finally up against Nekoma and while taking down notes for the team, you began to notice the shift between Hinata and Lev. An unspoken conversation had gone down between the two players and the gut feeling you had the day before was finally coming into existence. Hinata’s goal to become one of the best players was growing stronger. He had always made it known that he wanted to be at the top. He’d show anyone just how serious he was to be able to be just as amazing as the Tiny Giant. As the game slowly progressed, you could see the new expression on his face as he continued to play. Biting your lip, you took note of this in your notebook to bring up to Shimizu and the adults once their game was over. 

You winced as everyone watched Hinata go for the ball that was clearly meant for Asahi to spike and held your breath as they collided. As everyone tried to calm down the situation with Ukai and Kageyama reprimanding him, there was an underlying tension in the air. You bit the back of your pen and glanced across the court to see that Nekoma’s coach had also realized what was happening to your team as he smirked to himself. He was a perceptive coach and the smile he showed proved that he had figured out what you were meaning to share when the next time out happened. 

Everyone finally settled down and returned to their original positions. You looked at your boys and sighed in relief when it looked like things were going back to normal. They had concentrated looks and were slowly getting back into the rhythm of things. You hoped that there wouldn’t be anything else that would disrupt the match. Just as you were about to relax and go over your notes, you were proved wrong when the orange haired player turned to say something to Kageyama that had Karasuno react in surprise. 

“The quick that goes like whoosh...I’ll stop closing my eyes.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself as Kageyama’s face deadpanned when everyone heard what Hinata had to say. Biting your lip, you squeezed the pen that you were previously twirling  in hopes that things wouldn’t escalate more than it already had. 

“I can’t stay like this,” he continued, “I can’t keep hitting quicks that are set just for me.” 

“You can’t, and that’s why we learned normal quicks. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but if you have something to say, I’ll listen to it later. But if you’re gonna do that right now, I’m not going to set to a guy who I know will miss.” Kageyama retorted. 

With the blow of the referee’s whistle, you let out the breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Setting your elbows on top of your knees, you focused on the game, silently thankful that nothing else had come out of that short conversation. Shimizu sighed beside you and you looked up at her. You two shared a look and while stretching your arms, the older girl sighed. Readjusting her glasses, Shimizu hugged her notebook closer to her as you continued to watch the boys play. 

“That wasn’t just me who noticed the tension between the boys, right?” you murmured. 

Shimizu agreed and voiced her own concerns, “Ever since the collision happened, the rest of the boys are all on edge.” 

And before you knew it, the game was over. The other teams dispersed to their areas and the boys were doing their punishment once again. As you gathered the stray balls that littered the court, you couldn’t help but notice the looks on the boys’ faces as they dove across the floor. 

The tension in the team was obvious as some gritted their teeth, others had their eyebrows scrunched up, and some glanced at Hinata to see that the boy was in his own world.

Taking in a deep breath, you knew that the boys were finally realizing what you had come to realize: Hinata’s greed kept growing and no one wanted to be left behind. You laughed when you noticed that Hinata had messed up on his dive and smiled to yourself. While rolling the cart of balls off to the side, you were glad to see that the boys were slowly realizing that this camp was the perfect time to grow. The teams from the city are hard opponents and it was finally time for Karasuno to level up. So, once the boys had gathered around to listen to what Takeda and Ukai had to say, you breathed a sigh of relief and mentally thanked the teacher for his poetic words. Out of the four of them, Takeda always had the right words to tell the team. 

“You guys are the weakest team out of all the teams here.” 

You sweat dropped as you took in their faces when he said that, but smiled warmly as he continued. “If we were to have an official match with any of these teams, they would be a troublesome opponent. Are we going to view them as mere opponents or teachers that we can absorb techniques from?” 

You found yourself mentally agreeing with everything that your teacher was saying and as he wrapped up his speech about having more room to grow, you were glad to see that the boys’ expressions changed to being refreshed and determined. There was this refreshed aura around them and you straightened up, knowing that you had a little less to worry about. And as the boys were let on a brief break before their next match, you bit her lip when you noticed that Kageyama, Hinata, and Sugawara went outside to talk. 

“Oi~ chibi-chan!” Kuroo called.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he jogged up to you and you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one of your legs. 

“What do you want this time, you freakishly tall giant?” 

He leaned back and laughed. You playfully rolled your eyes as he pretended to wipe a tear away from his eyes. 

“You do know, everyone is basically a giant to you here right?” 

“Yeah and what about it? You’re the only one who’s annoying me right now.” You chuckled and playfully swatted his stomach. “Now what do you want Tetsu?” 

He shrugged and said, “I just wanted to check up on you after noticing the change in the boys during the game. You looked stressed and worried. Your leg kept bouncing up and down while you did that scrunched up look on your face whenever you began to overthink.” 

Your eyes glanced towards the entrance that the boys disappeared to and sighed. “I’m not sure what went down between Kageyama and Hinata, but hopefully they’ll be able to fix it. As for the team, the boys have been doing alright overall and I think Shoyo realized what they need to be doing at this camp. I just hope Kageyama will be able to hear him out.” 

Twirling the volleyball you had taken out of the team bag, you purse your lips as different scenarios played in your mind. Kuroo sighed and lightly bonked the top of your head. If there was anything he learned about you through the years he’s known you, it’s when you would begin to overthink something. You glared at him and he snickered before resting an elbow on top of your head. He looked down at you as you tossed the ball back into the bag. You groaned as he playfully added more of his weight onto you. 

“You don’t gotta stress, (Y/N)-chan. Knowing those two, they’re gonna hash it out as always and everything will be fine. You gotta believe in those two because you know that they’re going to always pull through in the end, alright?” 

You looked at him with some doubt and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. Leaning into his comforting embrace, you wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” 

“I know. And think about it this way, if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate.”

You immediately looked up at him in disbelief. “Did you really just try to squeeze in a chemistry joke?” 

He casually shrugged and said, “Yeah and what about it? I’m trying to cheer you up. My jokes always work on you.” 

You shook your head and laughed. “Only you, Tetsu. Only you.” 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!” he exclaimed and stepped away to tower over you. 

“Take it as you will, you big nerd.” you chuckled and didn’t back down, his glowering having no effect on you. 

The coaches yelled faintly in the background that it was almost time to resume the practice matches. You  watched as Kageyama finally returned and your eyebrows scrunched up as you took in his expression while Coach Ukai made his way outside to see what was going on.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll help you with your team since this is a training camp chibi-chan.” Kuroo said.

Your eyes widened in surprise and he laughed at your expression. 

“You’re kidding.” 

 “Nope, I’m totally serious. The players have free time after the matches for their own practices. A couple of us were planning on helping each other with our strengths or just having mock games. Well actually Bokuto and I just wanted to play against each other like old time’s sake” Kuroo laughed and ruffled your hair. “If any of your boys come by, I’ll help them out.” 

You couldn’t help yourself as a bubble of excitement rippled through you and threw your arms around Kuroo. He laughed and lifted you up into a spin before setting you down. You continued the conversation and walked towards Nekoma with Kuroo to quickly exchange pleasantries before the break ended.

Over to the side, Kageyama clicked his tongue as he watched your exchange happen and clenched his water bottle tighter. 

“Oh? Looks like someone’s trying to swoop in King.” Tsukishima snickered as he took note of what Kageyama was looking at. 

“Shut up, you don’t know anything.” Kageyama rolled his eyes before walking away. 

You managed to walk up to him before he reached the bench and he looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. Meeting his gaze, you tugged on his practice jersey when you noticed that he was tightly clenching his jaw. 

“Hey Tobio, are you alright?” 

Asahi, Daichi, and Nishinoya choked on their waters as their head snapped in your direction after hearing your voice. Kageyama could feel his ears burn as you looked at him in concern and Nishinoya screamed. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get over her calling me by my name with her voice.’ He thought and you poked him in the stomach to get his attention.

“TOBIO?! YOU GUYS ARE ON FIRST NAME BASIS NOW?! SINCE WHEN?!”

Daichi and Asahi held him back and you glared at him to shut up before turning back to Kageyama. He sighed as his mind flashed back to Hinata’s words and tried to keep his annoyance at bay. That was a problem that could be addressed later when these matches were over. In the meantime, he’d just need to focus on whoever they faced next. Ruffling your hair, he set his bottle next to his things and began to make his way back to the court.

“There’s nothing you need to worry about, for now.” 

With a sigh, you could only trust Kageyama’s words as the rest of the boysgot ready for their match against Fukurodani. 

--- 

The last day of the weekend training finally came to an end as everyone loitered in the parking lot as members packed away their belongings. You wiped away the sweat on your forehead as you tossed the last bag of volleyballs into the storage unit. The boys were all saying their goodbyes before getting onto the bus. Then seeing as Shimizu and Takeda-sensei were already in the vehicle, you took this as a chance to get a window seat on the way home. You also wanted some peace and quiet before the boys came onto the bus to start your nap and took your place on the bench that Kageyama and Hinata would usually sit in. 

‘They wouldn’t mind if I stole their seat just this once, right?’ you thought and mentally shrugged. You plugged in your earphones to drone out the noise as the boys began to slowly file into the bus and closed your eyes in hopes that no one would bother you while trying to relax.

Just as you were about to nod off, a light tap was felt on your shoulder. You jumped in surprise when you saw Kageyama looking the other way. Your eyes went over to the single seater row across from you and noticed Hinata had already taken a seat, looking out the window. With a silent understanding, you stood up and grabbed your bag from the empty seat next to you. He raised an eyebrow before taking your previous seat and you nonchalantly shrugged as Takeda-sensei started the bus. 

“Window seats are better to help clear the mind.” You murmured before sitting down and took out the last of your homework. 

He grunted at the sight of the assignments he still had to do once he got back home and you softly giggled at his response. After getting situated and the bus was finally on the highway back home, you nudged him. Kageyama looked down at the earbud you were offering and then back at you once again. You simply grabbed his palm and put the wireless bud in his hand before tapping the one you already had in your ear. 

“It’ll help you keep your mind off things.” 

Before he could say anything to you, the volume of the song playing was turned up and you started to work on your homework. He stared at you in surprise to find one of his favorite artists playing and sighed before relaxing in his seat. Resting his chin on the top of his palm, he looked out the window. Catching your reflection behind him, his eyes softened as he let his mind drift, thankful that you lent your support in a way he was comfortable with. 

-- 

You let out a yawn as you sleepily made your way out of the girl’s changing room and shouldered your backpack to prevent it from slipping off of your shoulders. Tilting your head to the side, you noticed that the light in the gym was still on. With a shake of your head, you had a good feeling as to who was in there. You couldn’t help but pinch the bridge of your nose in hopes that your gut was wrong. Peeping your head through the door, you let out an exasperated sigh to find Hinata and Kageyama in the gym with a basket of volleyballs near them.

“Shouldn’t you guys be heading home?” you asked as you stepped into the gym and crossed your arms. 

Hinata smiled sheepishly and said. “(Y/N)-chan, if you don’t mind, could you throw us some balls?” 

Your eyes shifted over towards Kageyama and he shrugged before tossing one of the balls at you. Huffing to yourself as you caught the ball, you dropped your bag by the door before joining them onto the court. After tossing them the ball for a couple of moments, you groaned when you  felt the tensions rise once more. Hinata was trying to keep his eyes open and you noticed that he wasn’t jumping at his highest point anymore. You knew that Kageyama noticed after several tries and you were debating if you should try to stop them. The frustration was growing evident on both of their faces and you bit your lip as Hinata asked for one more time. 

“Instead of practicing an attack we’re not sure you’ll be able to do, you should be working on the attacks we’ve been using, as well as serving and blocking!” Kageyama snapped. 

You held your breath as their conversation got more heated and before you knew it, the boys were at each other’s throats. While waiting for the right moment to step in, Kageyama grabbed a hold of Hinata’s shirt and he was thrown onto the floor in seconds. You began to worry because this looked a lot more serious compared to the previous fights they’ve had. So, taking a deep breath, you were about to yell at them to stop fighting, especially once Kageyama refused to set for him, but things seemed to happen too fast for you to keep up. You froze as Hinata jumped back into his feet and tried to tackle Kageyama to the floor. Knowing that the two were too blinded by their emotions for you to intercept, you ran towards the clubroom to get someone to stop them. 

“Ryu-nii!” you exclaimed when you spotted him at the bottom of the staircase.

He jumped at your alarmed expression and tugged on his arm, pointing towards the gym.

“What’s the matter?” 

You turned back to him with worried eyes and said, “Shoyo and Tobio are fighting!” 

Without a moment to waste, Tanaka rushed towards the gym before yelling at the two to stop it. You winced when you witnessed the two of them get punched by their upperclassman. Knowing that it was the perfect chance to help diffuse the situation, you got a hold of Kageyama while Tanaka held Hinata back. 

“You guys need to calm the fuck down, right now!” you exclaimed. 

The boys paused when they heard you and Kageyama looked down when he finally realized that you were holding him back. He noticed the frustrating and disappointed look on your face and gulped. With more awareness of his surroundings, Kageyama felt your hands slightly trembling as you held him back and he immediately tried to relax his body. It was hard for him because Hinata seemed to not listen to anyone and there wasn't enough time for him to master the new quick. With a sigh, you let go of Kageyama and made your way towards your backpack to take out the first aid kit you always carried for emergencies.

“That’s enough. I know the both of you have different opinions right now but we all just got back from camp. We’re all tired and you idiots might be getting way too heated because of the exhaustion. Take a moment for yourselves and really think about what each other have said, alright?” you hissed before approaching your friends. 

Tanaka proudly smiled as he watched them obediently listen to you and ruffled your hair as he made his way out. He knew that there weren’t going to be any more scuffles with the way the boys looked at opposite directions as you bandaged their bruises and cuts. 

“You got this from here, (Y/N)-chan?” Tanaka asked. 

You hummed in response and waved him off while you concentrated on putting a bandage on Kageyama’s cheek. “You can go home Ryu-nii, thanks for breaking these two idiots apart.” 

He laughed and waved goodbye. Pausing at the doorway he glared at the two before threatening, “You guys better make sure she gets home safe or else Noya and I will make sure you’re going through hell the next time we see you.” 

“Y-YES SIR!” they exclaimed and you rolled your eyes while walking to your bag to pack up your things. 

Glaring at the two of them with your bag slung onto your shoulders, you went towards the basket of volleyballs to put it away. 

“Go get your things, we’re going home.” 

--

You and Kageyama walked in silence ever since Hinata darted off once you locked up the gym. The three of you usually went home together but knowing that they needed to cool down, you understood why Hinata decided to separate himself for now. You sighed to yourself after noticing that Kageyama never stopped frowning and his eyebrows furrowed deeply together. He was in deep thought, probably trying to analyze why things weren’t going right, and you just needed to find a small distraction to help him get out of his head. As you approached an intersection, you threw your hands behind your head. 

“You know, you’re going to get wrinkles faster with the way you’re always frowning.” you said.

“Huh?!” he asked as he glared down at you and you looked at him from your peripherals, unphased by his reaction. 

Without thinking, you reached up and pressed the spot between his eyebrows, causing his face to relax. He rolled his eyes at you before swatting away your hands and continued the way home. 

“Whatever, you’re annoying.” 

“I know you’re worried, but you have to realize that Shoyo is right to some degree.” you said. 

He clicked his tongue but let you continue what you had to say. 

“It’s true that your guys’ special quick attack is something that no one else can do, but your opponents are now being more attentive towards you guys.” you said as you came to a stop, waiting for the crosswalk to turn white. 

“You’re also not wrong that there isn’t enough time and that you guys should be fine tuning the weapons you already have, but I believe in you two.” you finished softly and tugged on the strap of his bag. 

He turned to see what had caught your attention and it was a kid’s volleyball flyer. You shrugged and said, “Maybe going back to your roots could help you realize what he sees and needs you to do.” 

Kageyama sighed as the light changed for you guys to walk and silently continued to walk in front of you. You stared at his back while lost in your own thoughts for a bit. Hinata and Kageyama were complete opposites, yet they complimented each other’s play styles. You simply hoped that after this fight, they’d bounce back twice as strong. So for now, you were just going to do whatever you could to help them. Shaking any worries away, you matched his pace and stuffed your hands into the pockets of your team jacket. For the rest of the way back, the two of you were lost in their own thoughts. Once you reached your house, he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and told you that he’ll text you once he gets home safely. With a defeated sigh, you prayed that things will slowly get better for the two boys. 

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |12|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts:  | 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |11| 

So this will be the penultimate chapter :)

Hope you guys have enjoyed the series.

Words:4600

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSM themes, Sub Yoongi, Slight exhibitionism maybe, squirting, pegging) Swearing, alcohol comsumption. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff  @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment 

I’ve done some Domme reader stuff that I haven’t done before so please comment on how i did :P

//

It’s been two months since Yoongi heard those three words slip past your lips from your lips in the hotel room. He made love to you that night like you couldn’t believe. He didn’t let you lift a finger because you were exhausted, especially after the performance and the emotional drainage loaded onto you that day. He worshipped your body, like the goddess he truly believed you were. Everywhere your body liked to be touched received his lips in the form of a kiss or light nip. Your body was subject to wave after wave. You were left a wrecked, exhausted shaking victim of his tongue technology.

//

It had been a week since Yoongi had heard you mutter those words in person. You’d been in the in the States. You’re reunion was going to be at a house that you knew pretty quickly you’d wanna excuse yourselves from. The … had been gently stroking at your walls since you left the airport. You were slowly getting needier and needier and every bump and damn pot hole was making it worse. If Yoongi had been good and done what you’d asked then he would have a smooth silicon butt plug making him just as needy.

Why do I do this to myself

-How long are you going to be?-

-Missed me huh? :P-

-Is it a crime? And besides Tae keeps trying to get me to dance and linking arms with me…help-

-Lol, I will pay extra to see this. I’m here anyway-

The bass could already be felt through the lit porch. The wide white door with gold embellishments; the window to the party inside. The house was extravagant, so says Greek god of music Apollo posing for the stone fountain you passed on the way to the porch.

“About time you showed up, pretty sure Yoongi is swamped with Tae affection and needs you” Lee chuckled welcoming you inside.

“I’ll make sure I take my time getting a drink then, thanks for inviting me by the way”

The annex floor war marble, the black pattern laced in the white marble resembled mosaic, this room was clear but the noise flooded out through the open living room door.

“Oh please, how much have we worked together these past two years. You basically lived in my here for two months this year” He wasn’t wrong he’d near enough help you produce most of your last album.

“Alright! I was just being polite jeez!” he slid your coat off your shoulders storing in in the cloak room large enough to be a childs room.

You followed him through to the king sized kitchen. The flurry of people drifting in and out, in addition to the smalls groups conversing conveniently next to the generous snack table the kitchen appeared to be much more cramped. You responded to a few smiles and waves in turn; there was a fair share of Idols around; as well as dancers, producers and various other roles from the music industry. All the alcohol bottles were shoulder to shoulder along the back of kitchen unit.

“Mixers all in the fridge, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah” you were already eyeing up the different flavour gins. His only response was a thumbs up and he merged seamlessly through the people and out the back sliding doors.

Mid pouring the lemonade arms wrapped round your front and you were squeezed tightly, all with added sound of a high pitch squeal.

“Oh my god I’m soo glad to see you” Sophie squealed. When you were released you turned to find her and a couple of the hair stylists from your company equally brimming with slightly drunk infused glazed over eyes. Karen was already handing you a shot. Sambuca! The worst!

When your sambuca disgust face twitching stopped you followed the girls outside. The sun was low in the sky, ready to pass the illumination baton on to the tall lamps dotted around the pool. The swimming pools lights were already glistening below the calm blue as perfect yellowy ovals. The calm blue was disturbed by a couple of splodges of green, white and pink; an inflatable dinosaur and unicorn ring were happily bobbing on the surface. Untouched, for now at least. You didn’t need to scan the mass of smart casually dressed people around the pool for long until Hobi’s laugh pierced through the music yanking your gaze to where your legs were now taking you.

Of course, it was right next to the music deck. Underneath the permanent veranda. ….. had moved his music deck outside, as far as you could tell there was no one actually manning so the music must be from the speakers with just the option to mix. You clapped eyes with Tae, a grin and an amused shake of your head greeted him. He chuckled, Yoongi’s hand captured firmly under his arms. You shushed him. You wanted to enjoy every miniscule reaction up close. Yoongi was naturally trying to pull away from affection to find solace in the chairs in front of him. When you were easily within range Tae let go stepping behind for you to come darting behind Yoongi wrapping your arms around him.

“Seriously, I swear to god I will end you!” Yoongi warned, blind to the more feminine hands at his waist. The other boy’s mouths dropped which hastily got covered to shield their amusement.

“Rude!”

His body stiffened before fighting in your grip to turn and face you

“Babe.. I’m so sorry I thought you were Tae” You kept your face straight for as long as you could to enjoy the panic washing over Yoongi’s face. It was a mere and feeble few seconds before you erupted into a giggle. You could feel eyes migrate onto you; as much as you were amongst your own industry and there were no paparazzi the two of you were still pretty big news.

“Hey” the saccharine low voice melted into you like butter on a hot crumpet.

“Hey” you replied, his hands dropped to envelope yours into a squeeze. His lips were screaming to you, begging for yours to comfort them but you were not a huge PDA fan. Yoongi who seemed more than happy using you as an excuse to go sit down and out of the zone of dancing Tae; who’d now moved onto Jin who was much more pliant.

“You look nice” Yoongi spoke plainly clambering through the glasses on the table until he reached his wine.

“I look nice?” You mocked teasingly

“You haven’t seen me for a week and you just say I look nice?” you goaded further. His eyes rolled, smile twitching at his lips.

“God! you’re sooo demanding what do you want me to say?” he whined sparkle glinting in his eyes.

“I missed you, can’t wait to have what nice clothes you are wearing on the bedroom floor while I fuck you until your begging me to stop”

The remainder of your mouthful of drink sprayed onto the stone, darkening Infront of you. Your glance quickly scanning your immediate surroundings for potential heard ears. Your core clenching around your toy. The dampness of your underwear becoming mildly uncomfortable.

Did he just?...out loud? Where has my shy Yoongles gone

“Well… I mean that’s certainly more… interesting”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, not bad, if it was me though I probably woulda said… missed you can’t wait to have my mouth round your cock drinking down your cum”

“Ooof touché. Now no more otherwise you’ll start giving me…issues. Where’s Sophie and Karen disappeared off to?”

“Well we wouldn’t want that would we” pecking him on the cheek.

“No doubt to get me more shots to catch up, has Lee played your track yet?”

“Not yet he’ll, he’s got my memory stick”

“You trusted him with the password? Bitch you don’t even give that to me!” you whined.

“Damn right I don’t last time I did you put our private videos on there, I don’t need that kind of distraction when I’m at work”

“Not my fault you have no restraint”

You were right. Sophie and Karen had fought their way back over to you each with two glasses in their hands. Jaegerbombs.

“The hot tubs freee and has our name on it…” You’d packed your bikini in your overnight just for this. You wrote some of your favourite tracks from your last album in that hot tub.

“You saw Lee wave at Yoongi flagging him over

“You guys go I’ll be like 5 mins, got to hear what my boys made”

“Babe, you’ll hear it wherever you are, you go I’ll catch you in a bit” The kiss to your forehead signalling finality

“Fine!” you huffed squeezing his hand off your waist

“Sure it’s not just because you want me in a bikini quicker?” you teased out loud.

“You flatter yourself way too much” He countered acting disinterested; the glint of insincerity clear as day through his eyes. The hand he’d refused to let go now slid from his grasp.

The appeal of the hot tub was it was embedded into the floor. You stepped down into the shimmering warmth. A square area immediately around the circular pool the floor matched that you’d find in a sauna. You’d be on your knees on the seat of the tub, relaxing undulation of bubbles swarming your skin while you’d be writing lyrics on the wood, elbows growing sore with how fast your ideas were flowing out. The biggest appeal was the one-way glass, you could see the pool and if the patio pool area was free of swarms of people you had an aesthetic view of the skyline. The blanket of lights from the sea of buildings of Seoul.

The flow of water was circling and bubbling away, diffusing weakly into your tired muscles. The condensation had made the room soothingly stuffy and warm. The one-sided glass leaving the three of you in a tranquil heat filled space. You’d initially packed an overnight bag as you weren’t sure if you’d be staying at Yoongi’s or yours. You’d packed a few… extra things for Yoongi which you made sure were coated underneath the pyjamas.

The music filtered through the speakers in the top corner of the room, your ears alert for Yoongi’s new music that he’d refused to share with you. You’d tried every legal blackmail your mind could possible to torture Yoongi. When it came to music you’d very quickly learned he was as stubborn and private as you. You’d only hear it when he was happy for everyone to hear it; the only way you’d hear something before was if you were actually collaborating.

“Don’t you think Kihyun is looking damn good tonight” Karen cooed.

“You’d eat that boy alive” you chuckled

“How do you know I haven’t already?” she challenged from the side of the hot tub, the thin waves of steam failing to cover her deceptive smirk.

“Oh come on! you know Wonho would have told me” triumph filled the air. The three of you shared amusement

“You still talk to him then?”

“Not as much, but we’re still close”

“Well that’s hardly surprising most of your messages were absolute filth.”

“Well, there is that” you laughed, Sophie blunt as always.

“Anyway cheers girls, you bitches are the best” Glasses klinked, the beat of a song you’d never heard before started seeping into the room

“Oooh this must be it” you buzzed, the lower tones and bars of music ringing true of Agust D.

Your heart thumped to the bottom of your stomach, lead weighted. Blood plummeting southwards leaving your face drained. The sounds reaching your ears unbelievable.

“Well that’s erm different” Both girls eyes on you to gauge your reaction, you’d not moved. Face frozen eyes stuck wide.

“Wait…that’s not you…is it?” Your stiff expression face obviously confirming. The whole intro of the song he’d mixed in was the unmistakeable sounds of your moans. You completely blocked out anything when the lyrics started.

“I’m going to kill that asshole” Your shock morphing into pure anger out of embarrassment and self-preservation from m completely falling into tears.

“That’s a fucking dick move, he didn’t even ask?” mouth falling into a O.

“Would I want to hurt him if he did? I mean Jesus how could he, that’s so humiliating”

“He’s an artist right, you guys get soundbites from everywhere, people won’t even think it’s you. No one would expect Yoongi to do something like that. And it’s remixed pretty good, it’s pretty sexy actually”

“Don’t you even dare support this”

“I’m just saying” Karen shooting to defensive mood

“And anyway, that’s beside the point! How could he do that to me”

He is going to learn the full meaning of in dog house back home and he’d be a fool if he didn’t know that already.

When the songs was at its end the crept open. As soon as you saw his face you made sure you gave him daggers, right now you hoped they were primed and sharp. His hesitant movement into the room, sheepish aware of the wolf’s den he knew he was sacrificing himself to. Swim shorts over his shoulder.

“We’ll just go” Karen elbowing Sophie.

//

“What the actual fuck Yoongi! Your joking if you think you’re getting in” you seethed. He took a small step forward but no further. The barrier of your blood boiling giving him no choice but to choose wisely and come no closer.

“I’m…sorry, it was a complete accident, please let me explain” He rushed.

“An accident?” you scoffed.

“You don’t make a whole fucking song by accident, I don’t even wanna hear it. Do you know how embarrassing that was?” His head drooped low, eyes regretful looking up desperate at you.

“No one knows it’s you…I”

“You don’t know that! That’s besides the bloody point, you used something private without even asking for permission” He slumped himself down on the wooden bench that ran along half the room.

“I know I’m sorry, it wasn’t meant to be played”

“Oh the song you’d made that Lee Asked if you could play at his party you mean?” you snapped.

“I made two versions!” his voice never even raised but it strongly spoken.

“I thought I’d removed that one off the memory stick, he obviously played the wrong one” You churned the fact that actually he’d never meant the song to be heard through the grinder of your thoughts.

“Please forgive me I never meant to…” he pleaded

Fine!

“You know what fine! If you didn’t play it on purpose… just get out I’m too angry, I need to cool off” he stood without a word of contest. He knew by now how hot blooded you were. Eyes never leaving the floor, the now wounded sheep made his way towards the door. His face wringing the anger from your body as quick as it had flared. Leaving you empty with just guilt for company.

“Yoongi wait”

“Want to make it up to me?” He recognised your tone, he recognised the devilish smirk slowly creeping across your face.

“I’ll do anything you want” Instant submission.

Good boy

“Well that’s exactly what I want, lock the door, get changed and come in”

He joined you in simple black swim shorts, his V-lines more prominent than the last time you saw him. As soon as he settled you straddled his lap. A spring recoiling in his arms looping round your waist to hold your hips. He shouldn’t get to touch you, you wanted to pin them but you’d missed his touch too much to argue with yourself. You let it be, for now.

“You need to stop working out” You delayed his reply

“Wh..y” you went onto his lips, hard; catching his bottom lip between his teeth with just a much force. You heard the soundless exhale, a soft breeze from his lips. The growl was stuck in his throat but your hand felt it where it was resting loose on his throat.

“You can’t be hotter than me. Now are you ready to be a good boy and do exactly as I say?” his amused smile switched to an open mouth whine; dragging his hair back in a short tug.

“Well that’s impossible and yes I am yours to use” to hear those words roll off his lips was just…

“Sit up on the side I can’t have you make me cum with all this water” You clambered off him to resume the same position.

“I’ve missed those hands and I know how much you like to use them but to make it more of a punishment I won’t be moaning for you or calling your name” Your ability to do this was partially his fault, when you’d stay at the dorm with the others Yoongi actually wanted to keep things quiet from his brothers. You would always make sure you’d seduce the fuck out of him so he couldn’t refuse. You’d test how quiet he could be and he did the same. So in short it was actually mostly your fault.

You pulled at the bow at the back of your neck, the top flawless in the way it fell from your skin. You held it up biting your lip letting it fall from your hand. Yoongi pulled at the tie just below your hip, bottom lip also disappearing becoming victim of a bite. The lustful coffee swirls of his eyes focused on yours waiting for approval before he removed it from your glistening skin.

The grip of your hands tightening on his shoulders, his hand dipping, tracing his fingers from your neck down, your chest rising under his touch, through the valley of your breasts. His palms flipping up when they reached between your thighs. Pursing the heavy breath through your lips, dissipating the moan in your throat. Both your foreheads pressing together eyes challenging each other in a battle of unbridled lust. Throwing your white flag back with your head when his finger pressed to the front of core, too quickly finding the precious velvet wall. The double hit being in this position his palm was also pressed against your even more precious bundle of nerves. Your neck quickly succumbed to a wave of open-mouthed wet kisses; each igniting a different line of nerves rerouting them between your thighs. Your chest pressed to him your back arched in a perfect crescent. He tilted you back slightly leaning further to you. His fingers could go that much deeper. His palm pressed to your clit with just more pressure. Before your head buried in his neck the unknowing hustle of the people received such an arrogant devilish smirk before a harsh thrust of his hand had you clamping down on his shoulders. He was trying to make you lose your own game. All your moans you made sure were caught in your throat.

“Fuck this is infuriating without you moaning” Yoongi breathed in your ear. His fingers pumping harder.

You could support less and less of your own weight; you became heavier in his hand and lap. He knew he had you.

You fell completely apart, your legs tensed so hard convulsing around his thighs. His fingers still pressed hard to the front of your walls; palm still snug on your clit. He hooked his finger harder inside you, the next pulse of your muscles with the pressure of his fingers right there caused something deeper to release

Your cry flooded past your lips, the moan and expletives loud and breathless in Yoongi’s ear. If his shorts weren’t wet from the hot tub, they’d definitely be soaked with you.

“Did you just?” he asked through heavy exhale, smugness caked on his face.

“I did just”

“That was…so fucking sexy”

“Great punishment” he toyed like a brat.

“Oh babe I’m not done” The glint in your eyes made sure he knew. You tugged his hair dragging his head so your mouth was next to his ear

“I’m going to fuck you from behind while you look out at everyone. I want you think how much of a good boy you are”

“What? You can’t?” you’d already got yourself out of the hot tub.

“And why not?” You challenged, fully prepared for his response.

“Don’t you need…”

Yes I do you thought to yourself holding the harness in your hand

“You brought that to a house party?” the wideness of his eyes briefly sheltered the mischievous creases that built in the corners of his lips.

“Well I was hoping I’d be coming to stay at yours”

“But seriously…here?” he still challenged

“Oh so you don’t mind making me squirt like that, but fucking you is a bit too far?”

You butted in before the guy had a chance to respond

“Now stop being a brat, I want those off and you bent over the side of the tub” The lack of smile and piercing eyes dissuaded any more backchat.

The gold metal buckle lightly pinched the skin at your hip as you stepped into the pool. Yoongi’s head already resting on his arms. He exhaled through his teeth, your hand gently reached around and wrapped at the base of his cock.

“Are you so hard it hurts yet?”

“Getting there” he admitted, the colour fading back into his knuckles when you let him go

“Well you’re not going to cum from this” you warned.

“That’s never not happened” The complaint coming through a low echo with his head weighted on his hands

“You’ve been doing sooo much better. You’re just going to try extra hard for me today. Promise I won’t make it too difficult”

“If you do then you’ll just have to go without making me cum for a month. And you know I’ll make you watch when I do it myself”

“Ready?” hand slick with raspberry lube stroking the thin purple silicone shaft.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry for playing that song…ugh!” If he was going to say anymore, he didn’t with you teasing

“Thank you, now ask for it. Ask for your punishment like a good boy” His head took a quick glance up soaking up the view. He couldn’t deny it had definitely become quite a kink. The danger and the audacity of it just ruffled his feathers in all the right ways.

You deemed the silence too long. Fingers skipping up his spine, twizzling in his hair. Sharp tug.

“Ugh!”

“I’m waiting”

“Fuck me…please… I won’t cum…I don’t deserve it” His words hitting you like honey, sweetening right in between your thighs

“God, you drive me crazy when ..” Your leg propped up, hand resting at the base of his neck. Another hand tight on the masterpiece of his ass.”

His head dropping, groans deep in his throat. Hips slow pressing into him.

“Head up, look straight” Knocking your hips in a jolt against him

“I want you looking at all those people while I fuck you”

“Do you think they’ll be surprised to know how much you love it when I have you from behind” You leaned as far forward as you could, slithering your words at the top of his spine. Feeding into his love for you dirty mouth.

He was attempting to choke his moans away, half conscious of the open space of the room. He was struggling to hold himself together. When he’d whine a certain way, you knew he was close so you’d stop and give him a moment to control himself. You weren’t feeling cruel enough to actively try and make him fail.

Your hips had slowed now, and the long drawn tortured moans you were rewarded with. Oof. You could have quite easily stopped and wrapped the mouth he loved so much around his cock and given him the release he so desperately needed. You didn’t.

“I…can’t…anymore” he panted, exhausted. You still inside him pushing your hips to meet his ass once more

“Say please”

“Fuck please!” he cried. The desperation calling your punishment satisfactory. The top half of his body collapsed onto his arms. A beautiful panting mess of your own creation.

“Now I’m so hard it hurts” he breathed, muffled. Buckles undone, harness carried to the bag. Satiated smirk solid on your lips. You made no attempt to hide it when you re-joined him back in the tub. He shuffled round and slid fluidly onto the seat. The creases around his eyes glistening with tears. You swept them away with a gentle swipe of your thumb.

“Such a beautiful boy. Such a mess for me”

“I’ve been good, please…let me cum…Babyyy” Oh god the whine was sounded so perfectly with need and beauty. You were actually impressed he managed it. He’d normally come undone pretty quick.

“Fine, you can cum but… you have to tell me, and you only get my hand” His hands excitedly grabbing your hips as you sat on his lap; gasping when you most definitely on purpose guided his cock through you as you lowered yourself.

He really was desperate.

He breathed a curse as your thumb rolled over his tip. Eyes automatically firing warnings your way. Inhaling your bottom lip between your teeth, the evil smirk responding. You are still in control and you are not done.

Back arched into his chest, hand spread at the base of his neck. Lips dangerous, finding that spot he loves you to clamp down on.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long” he breathed already flushed trying to contain himself. The small bulge of his adams apple bobbed underneath your lips, his legs stiffened in between yours. You kept your hand movements slow and deliberate. Wanting to drag each long groan past his lips that you could.

“Is that nice baby?” Asking the obvious you knew but you wanted to hear it.

“Mmm so…” his words choked as your hand worked faster. His fingers locked tighter onto the outside of your thighs, head dropping back mouth agape stuttered soundless whimpers. Your hand constricting the side of his throat coaxing him to just topple off the edge.

“I’m going to…” Your hand abandoning his cock before his hips started spluttering. Even though you still had pressure on that beautiful milky throat of his. The sweet exasperated groan and breathy curses tweaked the sides of your lips up. His tortured pupils looking so feebly at you, devastated you’d just ruined his climax that he was gagging for. The water settling around you, your arm dragging droplets round his scapula, rolling down his chest perfect little drops.

Wet hands toying with the bottom of his hair line.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that” his chest still rising and falling in rapid undulations beneath you.

“And you know you can’t get enough of it” you countered pressing an adoring kiss on his plump lips.

“Babe you seriously gotta stop trying to leave me like this” it was a weak tired plea more than being a brat so you forgave him. If you ruined him just right, he’d stay hard; giving you plenty of extra play time. You retrieved your bikini halves from where they were shamelessly dropped.  Facing the gap in the wall towards the changing area wringing out your hair; your ass a full spectacle to him to enjoy.

“Well I won’t because we’re not finished and you’re going to come and fuck me against the wall”

He followed you through into the changing rooms like the absolute love-struck horny puppy you know he is and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “From Instep to Heel”, Part 10

Rated Explicit.

“From Instep to Heel”

Chapter Ten: In Pieces

"In pieces does it go.

He may collect them bit by bit – he may clutch them tight to his chest, settle them side by side hoping for them to slip into place like jigsaws, but they will always stay as pieces.

This is how longing goes." -

Jon and Sansa. Like the curve of the horizon, when the moon breaks from beneath its bow.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 fin

* * *

"I hope you are enjoying Winterfell, my lord," Catelyn says with a nod Jon's way, eyes warm about the hall as their guests dance. Three days after he and Sansa's arrival, the Tyrell procession had made its way to Winterfell as well, and the festivities had begun in earnest. Amid the flood of bodies engaged in the hall, Robb twirls Sansa around merrily, and Lord Stark dances with Lady Margaery, while the rest of the Starks watch on from their places at the head table.

Jon raises a cup to Lady Stark in his seat beside her. "You've all been very welcoming, I thank you, my lady." Not that he would expect a Targaryen prince, even a bastard one, to ever be turned away. The Starks are too honorable for that, and too keen to the North's already shaky relationship with the crown.

Catelyn smiles shrewdly at his compliment.

Jon catches the motion, and thinks perhaps she understands better than any of them.

"You haven't even been to the training yard yet, Jon," Bran bemoans, picking at his meal.

Arya raises a brow at the casual address. "Oh, 'Jon', is it?"

Catelyn sends a reproachful look Bran's way. "That isn't proper, Bran."

"Well, he's our brother now, isn't he?" Rickon asks around a mouthful of food.

Catelyn tuts at her youngest's manners, a sharply raised brow sending the boy scrambling for a napkin to cover his mouth, a sheepish look adorning his face.

Jon chuckles beneath his breath.

"He lets me call him Jon," Bran argues, turning to him then. "Don't you, Jon?"

Jon leans back in his chair, setting his wineglass back to the table. "Aye, that I do."

"Except, of course, when we're sparring," Bran continues, attention turned back to his meal nonchalantly. "Then it's always 'my lord'."

"You could still do with a bit of deference, after all, little lord. And sparring requires discipline," Jon chuckles, bringing his glass to his lips when he sees Lady Stark glance his way again curiously.

"Ha! Discipline," Arya scoffs, head cocked Bran's way. "I'd pay to see that. This one has all the discipline of an ass – and the stubbornness, too."

Catelyn's chiding 'Arya' is a soft hiss of breath, and Jon wonders if this is what all Stark dinners are like. Something about it settles steady in his chest, an anchoring – an ease.

Bran glares at his sister. "Ser Jaime thinks I'm coming along well," he defends. "And he certainly knows better than your 'dancing instructor'," he mocks.

Arya's eyes narrow so quickly Jon almost misses it. The look is so strangely reminiscent of Sansa, but in a blunted, imprecise kind of way, that Jon is actually taken aback.

"Syrio could wipe the floor with your precious knight," she sneers back.

Bran opens his mouth to retort but Catelyn's voice cuts through the conversation then.

"Ser Jaime Lannister?" she asks, lips pursed tight.

Jon glances to her, watches her shoulders bunch minutely.

She wipes her hands over her skirts demurely, brushing away imaginary lint when she fixes Bran with a raised brow. "Your father hadn't informed me of that."

Bran almost looks contrite. "Jon helped me get the position. And Father did approve, eventually. Really, Mother, it's a good arrangement."

Catelyn shifts her gaze to Jon, cool and unaffected, but the lift of her chin tells Jon to be wary. "You had a hand in my son's squiring?"

Jon nods, fingers thrumming along the stem of his wineglass. "I did."

She purses her lips, hands bunching in her lap. "Ser Jaime Lannister, hmm? And you thought that wise?"

There's a current of something in her voice then, something Jon cannot identify, but it makes him no less apologetic. "It was the boy's wish," he tells her, no appeasement in his tone. Only truth.

Catelyn watches him for a moment longer, and then she offers a tight smile. "Sometimes it does to deny a boy's wish, my lord," she says meaningfully. "They do not always understand what they ask for, after all."

Jon nods, rolling the words along his tongue, before tilting his head toward her when he speaks, "The men they become understand well enough, my lady, one way or another."

A smile cracks the edges of her lips, a faint nod offered in his direction before she's reaching for her mug of ale. "I suppose you are right."

Jon takes another swig from his own drink in acknowledgement, a thrum of understanding passing between them unspoken.

"I'm not a 'boy'," Bran grumbles from the other side of Lady Stark, hardly audible.

Arya beams victoriously at him.

"I thank you all the same, my lord, for your attentions to my sons," Catelyn says, her shoulders easing somewhat as she settles back in her seat, her heavy mug held surprisingly delicately before her lips. "It was not them you were wed to, after all." She releases a graceful chuckle with the words.

Jon allows a small smile in return. "No, but," and he looks at Bran then, face softening, "They are my brothers as well now, are they not?"

Rickon beams around another mouthful of food. "Hear that, Mother? I'm brother to the prince!"

"You're an animal is what you are," Arya laughs. "Come here." She wipes at Rickon's cheeks with a napkin, shaking her head at him. He only takes another forkful, eyes bright as he watches her tend to him. She rolls her eyes and gives up, napkin thrown to the table, though she's trying desperately to hide her own amusement at his antics.

Jon watches the youngest Stark girl, her impulsive mothering of Rickon at strange odds with the snappish, forceful young woman he's seen of her thus far. It has him stilling his wineglass at his lips, gaze thoughtful, remembering –

My mother was a Tully, Sansa had told him once. Is a Tully, she'd corrected. As much as she is a Stark.

Jon thinks he understands now.

Family, duty, honor. Those were their words.

And all these last moons it's been Winter is coming. But perhaps they aren't so different.

(Yes, he thinks he understands now.)

For what does one do when winter comes?

You seek warmth. You seek each other.

Family – pack.

No, not so different. Not so blaringly apart. But Jon has been living in the in-between (between Targaryen and Stark, between Fire and blood and Winter is coming) for so long. that he doesn't know how to exist fully in either, how to be anything but split apart, a jumble of pieces. He doesn't know how to be one as much as the other.

(And maybe that is the point. Maybe they aren't supposed to exist equally. Maybe this is the choice he was always meant to make.)

Arya rolls her eyes at her youngest brother, but she's already shoveling the rest of her unfinished pot roast onto his plate. Jon notices Catelyn smiling fondly at the motion, hidden somewhat by the mug in her hand.

Jon clears his throat, squashing the tumult of emotions lighting in his chest. "You train, Lady Arya?" he asks instead, brow piqued.

Arya gives him a devilish grin, settling back into her seat now that Rickon has tucked into his food once more. "I do, my lord."

Bran scoffs, drawling his response with a fork waved vaguely at his sister. "Our father's indulgence."

"Don't be jealous," Arya says primly.

Bran shakes his head, fork tipped back to his plate. "Jealousy requires an envious subject." His eye roll is accompanied by a faint smile though, and Jon's chest aches inexplicably at the sight.

He glances to the Lady Stark to find her rubbing at the space between her eyes. "Seven, give me strength," she mumbles, barely audible.

Jon barely suppresses a laugh.

Arya leans forward suddenly, arms linked over the table, eyes bright. "Would you spar with me, my lord? I should like to test myself."

Jon's eyebrows rise into his hairline. "You wish to spar?"

Rickon looks up at the exchange with a mouth full of pork.

Arya is practically bouncing in her seat. "If you would have me, of course. I daresay I'd present a far better challenge than my brother here." She hooks a thumb toward Bran and ignores his glare, even as he stuffs a buttered potato into his scowling mouth.

Jon does laugh this time, raking a hand through his hair. "If your lady mother should approve," he grants, eyes flickering toward the Stark matriarch.

Catelyn's shoulders pull back, lips pursed at the address. She arches a brow Arya's way, only to find a pleading expression that instantly has her shaking her head and chuckling, eyes heavenward. "I suppose I can hardly decline a prince," she says with a mock sigh, eyes glinting when she looks back to her daughter.

Arya's mouth breaks into a wide grin, words at the tip of her tongue, sitting straighter in her seat when –

"After, of course, you finish your sewing lessons with Septa Mordane," Catelyn finishes archly.

Arya slumps back into her seat, instantly deflated.

Catelyn takes a sip of ale to hide her smile. "You see, my lord," she begins, eyes glancing back to Jon, "Parenthood is often compromise."

Jon is quiet then, fingers tightening over the stem of his wineglass. He thinks of his father's hands at his shoulders, along his cheeks, eyes set on his.

Not so much a compromise as a demand.

One he would have been eager to meet, before.

Before –

"Something you may learn yourself, soon enough," Catelyn finishes, a nod set his way.

And then it is Sansa's hands at his shoulders, at his cheeks, eyes set to his. The warmth of her beneath him, the spread of her copper hair along his pillows, the hook of her legs around his waist, the throaty moans she never bothers to smother, the heady flush of her pleasure at his fingertips, along his tongue, wrapped tight around his cock, the unspoken promise between them, when his hands light along her stomach and she presses flush against him, when he's spilling hot and frenzied inside her, the slow-growing hope branching through his lungs each time he spends his seed within her.

Jon shifts in his seat, throat clearing subtly. He glances across the floor for her form, catches a flash of red along the dance floor, his chest rising steady and slow with his inhale.

"'Soon' is exactly the word," Bran bemoans, his fork speared through a potato, "If what I've heard is anything to go by." He fights a grimace.

Jon snaps his gaze to the young man, heat rising to his cheeks without his bidding. His mouth tips open but no words follow.

Bran scrunches his nose. "You can only be so quiet in tents," he supplies, returning to his food.

Jon takes a long, deep swig of wine, decidedly not looking at Lady Stark, especially when Rickon bursts into laughter and Arya releases a disgusted noise.

Gods, but he could kill the boy.

Jon barely resists the urge to push from the table and never look back, or perhaps to slink down beneath it.

"Bran," Catelyn censures dryly, "You're being too informal. And your sister is a married woman now. She has a duty to her husband."

Jon's throat tightens, his wineglass stilled halfway between his mouth and the table, a grimace overtaking his lips before he can stop it, the word a visceral reminder.

Duty,

It seems a dirty thing, now. To think that anything between them could be described as 'duty'.

Not when she rests her fingers tenderly along the nape of his neck, and not when she presses her mouth to the hollow of his throat, and not when she curls into his side and rakes a hand over his chest when they are sated and drowsy.

Not when she falls asleep facing him, implicit in her trust, her openness, her wanting of him.

Not when he wakes with her bundled in his arms and the light of dawn cascading over her form and every line of her body is molded perfectly to his.

Not when she is every horizon he never dared to reach for.

Jon's eyes wet instantly, without warning. He blinks it back harshly, mouth a tight line, and when he glances back up, he finds Lady Stark staring at him, an unrecognizable look to her face. Her mouth tips open, but then –

"She likes you."

Everyone stills.

Jon blinks unfocused eyes toward the youngest Stark, watches as he shovels another forkful of pork into his mouth.

Arya raises a brow his way, patient for his explanation.

Catelyn shifts in her seat, her mug of ale returned to the table.

Rickon looks about the table, at the expectant faces turned his way after his comment. He shrugs, swallowing back his food. And then he motions to Jon. "She made it for you, didn't she? That cloak?"

Arya glances back to Jon with a perusing eye. Bran is silent as he eats, a knowing smile at his lips. Lady Stark is unnervingly still, her gaze settled on him once more.

Jon finds his hand reaching for the strap at his chest, fingers edging over the leather gently.

The wolf beneath. Just on the flipside.

Jaw clenching, hand retreating from the strap, Jon nods at Rickon. A single, swift assurance.

Rickon waits a moment, head cocked. And then he smiles – brilliant and wolf-bright. "She likes you," he says succinctly, turning back to his plate without preamble.

Jon feels the breath rake from his chest without warning. He watches the boy, throat parched, words stilted along his tongue.

Catelyn taps a thoughtful finger along the handle of her mug.

"She doesn't sew me cloaks anymore," Rickon tacks on grudgingly, suddenly sullen.

Arya barks a laugh, and it's like a crack of wind, a welcomed rush of air.

Jon feels it unwind from his chest, suddenly - a slow-thawing winter.

Catelyn sighs. "Perhaps if you stopped ruining them," she replies sagely, a meaningful look her son's way.

Rickon grins cheekily at her. Bran snorts a laugh into his fist.

And Jon is blessedly, inexplicably –

Content.

* * *

"Oh Sansa, it's beautiful," Margaery sighs beside her, trekking into the clearing of the godswood, eyes alighting the heart tree.

Sansa watches her make her way toward the ancient weirwood, a subtle smile gracing her features, following shortly after her.

Margaery glances back at her, silken hair slipping over her shoulder. "You were right. I would love to be married here."

Sansa settles along the edge of the pond just inside the clearing, a thin layer of ice already forming over the water, a gentle drift of snow layering everything. Sansa takes a deep, crisp breath, lets it fill her lungs, exhales it just as cleanly. She bundles her gloved hands before her, looks up at the overarching branches of the weirwood.

A red shadow overtakes her vision, slips of light falling in prisms through the blood-toned leaves.

It is not the temple of her mother's gods, not the sept where she falls to her knees in worship, but there has always been something ancient and intimate here, something greater than oneself. She understands the draw of it, the weight of it, the way it fills the lungs with wonder.

Margaery presses a gloved hand to the rough bark and stares at the touch. Sansa watches her from her place at the edge of the pond.

Someplace greater than oneself. It always seemed an appropriate place to marry, to become something greater than oneself. A part of a whole.

Sansa's throat tightens, her smile watery.

Would she have taken Jon for her husband here? Of her own choice? Would she have wed him in the sight of the old gods?

"May I tell you something, Sansa?"

Margaery's voice is soft, brittle in the gentle wind. It barely reaches her ears. Sansa takes a step closer. "Anything," she promises her.

Margaery's hand slips from the tree, but she stays turned to it, gaze shifting up to glance overhead at the swaying branches. "I don't think your mother likes me overly much." It's a chuckle that leaves her with the words, but it's far shakier than Sansa expects.

Her brows furrow. "Robb is her firstborn. Her son." Her gaze turns soft. "She is cautious."

"Does she find me scheming, do you think?"

Something about the words throws Sansa – the tremor with which they're said.

Margaery still will not look at her.

"Margaery - "

"She would be right," she gets out, strikingly sure, finally turning to Sansa. Her eyes are wet, her smile like glass. "She would be right, you know."

The wind seems to stop. A steady beat of silence passes between them. They stay staring at each other through the filtering snow, still and waiting – precariously close to a ledge Sansa has only ever glimpsed at from a distance.

She sucks a shallow breath between her lips. "What are you...?"

And then Margaery clears her throat, stalking back over to her, taking her hands in hers suddenly. "Sansa, I love your brother. I love him so dearly now, but I – I did not always." She shakes her head, takes a breath, looks back up at her. "Do you understand me?"

Sansa stares at her, watches the shadow of flickering leaves break across her features, tendrils of hair sweeping across her earnest face with a Northern gust. Her heart clenches in her chest.

She went for the next best thing: the heir to Winterfell.

Sansa remembers the words, even now. Hadn't admitted to the home they made in her heart, even as she refused them. That lingering doubt.

But Sansa has always taken people at more than their intentions.

Margaery shifts her eyes between hers, searching, narrowed. "You must know, Sansa. Somewhere inside, even if you won't admit to it, you must know." She swallows thickly, hands tightening over hers. "That I approached you with this goal in mind – from the very start." Her gaze breaks, her eyes fluttering down, focused on their joined hands. A heavy breath leaves her.

She understands though. She gets it now. There is no protection for women in this world but the kind you marry into, and is it a sin for a woman to choose that protection? To have a hand in it? To not sit idly by?

She is a faithful daughter, yes, and she heeded her parents' wishes for her own marriage. Her father's wishes. And perhaps she is luckier than most that her husband seems genuine in his regard for her, in his desire to protect her, but this cannot be the case for all. She sees this now.

Her own mother had no guarantee of love or affection when she married her father, but protection at least, was ensured. Her father has always been an honorable man, after all. And maybe Sansa had always taken that for granted, had always found the ease in such a marriage, never knowing the trials.

King's Landing was an awakening, to say the least.

Part of her resents that Margaery had such designs on her brother, of course, but she thinks she understands now. That resentment is more for her situation than it is the woman in particular. For the world that forces her hand so. For the cage she is just now seeing the bars of.

And yet always, her words echo in her ear.

Duty is all well and good, Sansa, but will it keep you warm at night? Will it weather the years with you? Will it grow old and grey beside you?

They each long for love, even if Margaery does not say it in so many words. They will do what they must to survive in this world, yes, but she knows Margaery has tasted loneliness. She knows she has yearned for more.

Anyone who could say such words, after all, must yearn for more.

It is not a crime Sansa finds unforgivable.

"I would be lying if I said I hadn't suspected it," she says slowly, finally, licking her lips with her trepidation. She takes a breath, lets it taste air. "But I would also be lying if I said I hadn't suspected more."

Margaery glances up at her again. The snow falls soft around them.

"I chose to believe you were more than that, and you have proven that belief worthwhile."

A sound escapes Margaery's throat, her lips parting. She shakes her head again, a sharp furrow to her brow. "Sansa, how can you...?"

Sansa steps into her. "I was right to trust you. So trust me now."

The other woman blinks salt-tinged eyes at her, mouth pursing closed, riveted.

"Give her time. My mother will see what I see. She will see the love you bear her son, and she will welcome you whole-heartedly. Family, duty, honor, you remember? Always family first." Sansa sets an imploring gaze on her, nodding, a steady smile branching across her lips. "So love my brother. Just...love him. The way I know you already do. And everything else will follow, I promise."

"Sansa - "

"You did not have to tell me this, and yet you did. I thank you for that."

Margaery wipes at her eyes, heaves a breath. She keeps her other hand firmly clasped in Sansa's. "Gods, but can you forgive me?"

Sansa laughs, short and bright – nothing incredulous about it, only warm. "I don't think you need my forgiveness, but you have it nonetheless."

Margaery nods, thumb grazing over Sansa's knuckles. She glances back to the weirwood, steady and looming behind them. The snow never stops falling, and the cold stays always in the bones up here, but it is an embrace Sansa has missed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she finds Margaery swallowing back a shaky breath, her eyes wet, her shoulders tight. Sansa uncurls her hand around the other woman's so that she may instead thread her fingers through hers.

She sighs, the air crisp on her tongue. "You make my brother happy," she says, surprised at the choke behind the words, the threat of tears lining her voice. "And for that, I think I could forgive you anything."

Margaery's free hand goes to her face, covering her sob, her crumbling features. Sansa tugs her toward her by their joined hands, embracing her before the watching weirwood, letting her bury her face in the fur at her shoulder. "Welcome to the North," she breathes into her hair, smile widening, "Sister."

Margaery curls her hands around Sansa's shoulders, sighing against her, a watery laugh leaving her.

The shadow of the heart tree stretches ever wide across their forms.

* * *

"Not much for snow, are you, my lord?" Robb jests as they ride their horses along the banks of the wolfswood.

"It is...cumbersome," Jon grumbles, hands twisting in the reins.

Theon barks a laugh on his other side. "I think the capital's made you soft, my lord," he sneers.

Jon throws him a baleful look. "And you're a Stark now, are you, Lord Greyjoy?" Jon snaps back, irritated at his presence already, and their hunt has only just begun.

"Iron and snow, my lord," Theon replies glibly. "The two go hand in hand. Takes a special sort to weather either."

"Aye, you're a special sort," Robb laughs, shaking his head.

Jon's mouth opens in retort but then Ned's horse goes thundering past. "Quickly now, boys, if we plan to bring anything back in time for dinner."

Bran and Rickon follow shortly after, taunting each other as they race, and Robb glances back to Jon one last time with a wide-set grin, before urging his horse on.

Jon sends a final glare to the smug-looking Theon before he's off as well, his horse's hooves kicking up snow and dirt. Hounds and men follow behind them, racing deeper into the wolfswood in search of game.

Jon clenches his jaw at their company. Men of the North. Some of whom have made their distaste of a Targaryen bastard, even one of Northern blood, not so hidden. Jon hardly expected a warm welcome when he'd arrived, but in some small measure, he'd hoped for it.

Perhaps it's the Starks who've made him soft.

Jon urges his horse on.

Lord Stark had made it abundantly clear that his nephew was welcomed amongst Winterfell's halls during the first night's feast, and Jon had glanced around the room at Lyanna's mention, cups raised solemnly in answer, before hearty men dipped their heads and downed their glasses in thunderous remembrance, bellows echoing throughout the hall, fists on tabletops, and Jon had never seen such a thing before.

Even when they still sent him wary glances, even when they grumbled their distaste, even when they refused to be shy about their opinions on his presence when he attempted to converse with some of the lords, even then - for all its boisterousness and impropriety – Northern court felt uniquely intimate. They would follow their lord, that was abundantly clear, but they didn't have to be quiet about it.

It almost makes Jon want to laugh.

And yet, there is no true dissension in their ranks. Ned had not bothered trying to silence them, and though Jon first took this in with a mark of concern, he finds now that he should have taken it with a mark of respect. For so long, he's watched his father silence his opposition with a ruthlessness he once admired, a single-minded vision, and consequently, he has watched their empire crumble, bit by bit, with whispers and deception, with his family's own weapons used against them. There is nothing of the sort here. Here, a man says what he means. And he says it loudly. There is no intrigue or courtly manipulation. There is no hidden meaning beneath one's words, nor hidden ambitions beneath one's actions. There is only a man and his lord. A service unto each other.

And he finds his father was right to fear the North.

"She make that for you?" Theon asks him when they've slowed to a trot, motioning to the heavy cloak adorning his shoulders.

Jon remembers the smell of her when she'd wrapped him in the cloak's warmth, the feel of her cheek against his beard, the soft curl of a smile tugging at her lips.

He arches a brow Theon's way.

"Sansa," he clarifies, though it needs no clarifying.

Jon doesn't like how he says her name, nor the casualness with which he says it. He grumbles his ascent, wondering why the Greyjoy has lined his horse with his. Up ahead, Bran and Ned are trailing the hounds, and behind them, Robb is teaching Rickon how to sit astride while pulling a bow.

Theon tips his head in thought, mouth pursed. "Figured she'd always make a dutiful wife."

"Not yours though." It's petty of him, he knows, but he can't help the words as they leave his mouth.

Theon rests his arms over the horn of his saddle, leaning forward slightly with a glint of amusement in his eye, the reins held leisurely in his hand. "No, she was never meant for me," he says.

Jon is acutely aware how the man does not deny any desire on his part though, and his hands tighten over his reins at the thought.

"Always thought she'd be a queen though," Theon continues, glancing ahead.

"Not a bastard's bride, hmm?" Jon says archly.

Theon laughs. "Your words, my lord. Not mine."

Jon leans back in his saddle a bit, watching him. "And you think you could offer her better?"

Theon glances back to him, straightening in his seat atop the horse. "Does it matter now?"

Jon clenches his jaw, teeth grinding, eyes flitting ahead at Lord Stark's hollering. The hounds have caught a scent.

Jon takes a deep breath, gathering the reins in his fist. "She deserves far better than either of us," he answers beneath his breath, before he's digging his heels in and racing after his uncle.

He misses the look of surprise on Theon's face.

Later, when they're chasing down an elk, his arrows missing by a hair's width, Robb's teasing egging him on, he's not particularly surprised when Theon's arrow hits the mark right between the eyes.

He glances across the snow-capped ferns at the Greyjoy, Bran and Rickon already bounding over to the felled beast. But Theon isn't looking at him. He doesn't look at him the entire ride back.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf is howling.

"Direwolves," Rickon tells him as they make their way back to Winterfell, nodding up toward the far hills, the sun dipping down along the horizon in a streak of red against white.

Jon glances up to where the youngest Stark motions, eyes scanning the horizon, but nothing emerges. Even still, he knows he is right. Something tells him to trust the boy.

Something tells him to trust the North knows how to bare its teeth as well as any beast.

* * *

"Ha!" Arya shrieks, her sword clashing against Jon's, before she's pushing off, twirling her sparring blade in her grip, taking a lower stance.

Jon shakes his head, smile blinding, curls clinging to his forehead with sweat. He changes sword hands, notes the flicker of unease in her eyes when he does so. "Never let your enemy read your movements."

Arya purses her mouth, a frown marring her features, and then she's lunging again.

Jon pivots away, striking out, catching her swing mid-arc, but she recovers quickly, thrusting again, and Jon barks a laugh as she pushes him back, pure delight at her enthusiasm, swift and agile as she is.

She tips left, and he catches the arc of her blade with his own, stepping into her lunge, grabbing at her other wrist with his free hand, ignoring her shriek of surprise and yanking her off balance. She stumbles toward him, sword up, but he's braced for the impact, twisting to use her momentum, letting her tumble into the dirt, his sword swift at her throat when she scrambles onto her back.

She lays there huffing, staring up at him, and Jon's chest is heaving as well, he must admit.

A mischievous smirk breaks across her face and she shoves a hand into the air, expecting his assistance without word, and he grants it, grasping her arm, hauling her back to her feet with practiced ease.

Arya dusts off her leathers, picking her sword up off the ground. "Alright, Jon, time to come clean,"

Jon wipes at his sweat-laced brow, leaning back on one foot with an inquisitive brow arched her way. "About what?"

"After all these spars, you've got to see that I'm better than Bran."

Jon chuckles, waving her over to the nearby bench. Along the yard, Rickon trains with Ser Rodrik, and on the other side, Bran is sinking arrows beneath the deriding teachings of Theon. Jon places his sparring sword back along the rack, taking up his own sword as it lays unattended along the bench, unsheathing it and laying it in his lap. Arya watches him quietly a moment, following suit shortly after. Her own blade is thin and short, closer to a dagger than a sword, and though Jon had, at first, chuckled at the sight, he sees now its value in such a hand as hers. Not all blades are made for blind destruction. Not all warriors are made for blunt force. This teacher of hers, Syrio Forel, knows more than he'd originally given him credit for.

Jon takes an oiled cloth to his blade, the motion always soothing to him after a fight. Clean. Clipped. A smoothness to the even swipe of his hand along the blade, something grounding. His heart settles back into an easy pattern quickly, gentled by the motion. Arya takes after him almost on instinct, and he smiles inwardly at the sight, watching her unsheath her blade with a reverence only a true swordsman would have for their weapon. But he keeps these musings to himself. He doesn't think his wife would particularly appreciate his encouraging of her sister's aggressions.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her own oiled cloth gliding smoothly over her blade. "It's true though, isn't it?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm better than Bran."

Jon spares a chuckle. "You're...different."

Arya huffs, eyes back on her blade. "That doesn't mean 'better."

"Doesn't mean 'worse' either."

Arya silences then, continuing in her cleaning. She straightens suddenly, hand stilling while she glances out across the yard. "You know, it took me years to convince Mother I could train as well as the boys."

Jon hums a noise of acknowledgement. "I can imagine."

Her face narrows, a scoff leaving her. "I doubt it. Men have never had to prove themselves like women have."

"No, but bastards have." He doesn't know what compels him to say the words, but they make it to air regardless, and he cannot take them back.

More than that, he doesn't want to take them back.

Arya glances at him a moment, silent and musing.

It's unnerving, he realizes. And he finds he's not particularly fond of Stark women peering at him. Makes him feel undone in his own skin.

Jon clears his throat suddenly, hand harsh in its swipe down his blade. "I mean, I think I understand you."

Arya nods slightly, a thoughtful lilt to her mouth. "Aye, perhaps you do."

"And what, you never thought to live the life of a lady? Never thought to make yourself comfortable in some man's castle?" It's not said derisively, just curiously, and he wonders at this newfound ease he finds with her.

"Is Sansa comfortable?" she asks without pause.

Jon stills at the question, shifting toward her.

Arya does not look at him, just continues the motion of her hand along the blade.

Jon swallows thickly, glancing out over the yard, eyes alighting on Rickon when he falls back into the dirt, a frustrated grunt breaking from his mouth.

A lick of his lips, his gaze flickering away, his hand resuming its motion, Jon replies, "I should hope so." It's not said with the sort of confidence he would have liked.

"Shouldn't you know? Being her husband and all?" she asks derisively.

Jon sighs, shaking his head. "Marriage isn't so clean cut, Arya," he says lowly, "Especially not in the capital."

"Then make it clean cut," she pushes.

He arches a brow at her.

Arya huffs, focus resumed on her blade. "You're pack now – to each other. And the lone wolf may die but the pack survives, so...survive. Whatever you need to do. Survive. Together." She glances at him with a dark look, the familiar grey of her eyes startlingly clear. "She can be a wretched thing, believe me, I know, but – but she's my sister. My sister. She's..." Arya trails off, glancing away from him, mouth pursed in a tight line.

Jon heaves a breath, finds the word easy on his tongue. "Pack?"

She looks back at him with a raised brow.

Jon nudges at her shoulder, turning back to the cleaning of his blade, unable to keep her eye. "You Starks aren't so hard to read," he says on a laugh, throat tight without knowing why.

Arya releases a similar chuckle, shaking her head. "We Starks, you mean."

She says it so easily, and there again, that clench in his chest, that hitch of air in his lungs.

Jon swallows back his retort, because it seems pointless now – now when he's sitting here with his little cousin, polishing blades, sweating even in the frigid Northern air, the laughter of her brothers filtering through the chill toward their ears. A great many things seem pointless suddenly.

Jon breathes deep, lets it fill his lungs, exhales slow and steady.

They continue on in silence for a time, a contented silence that Jon doesn't remember ever feeling in his own home, especially not in his own training yard. No. That place is reserved for sharpened barbs disguised as brotherly taunts, for an overseeing eye, for scrutiny in every corner and praise so hard to come by he'd beamed beneath even the faintest of his father's smiles.

Jon doesn't know how long they sit like this, only that the shadow of the sun has shifted over his shoulder, blaring bright even through the crisp winter air.

"You trained under Ser Arthur Dayne, didn't you?" Arya asks softly.

Jon is grateful he doesn't falter in his motions, nor stutter in his words when he answers her. "For a time."

"He why you're so good?"

Jon laughs at the question, even more so at the unladylike way she pieces the words together. And yet, it suits her. It suits her just fine. "He's a large part of it, yes."

"And the other part of it?"

Jon's lips thin into a tight line, his teeth grinding. "Ambition." He swallows, glances to her. "Perseverance."

She considers him quietly, returns to her blade with a thoughtful look. "I hear he was a great swordsman." The words are soft, compassionate.

Jon is grateful for it.

"He was more than that." His words are a croak, and he has to clear his throat before he continues, eyes focused on his blade lest he lose himself. "He was the greatest man I ever knew."

Arya stills her hand along her blade, watching him. "The greatest man you've ever known?"

Jon nods silently, throat bobbing.

"Not your father?"

Jon's hand halts mid-swipe, his lips parting. He turns to her swiftly.

She's looking at him expectantly, one brow raised, eyes unblinking.

Jon swallows thickly, schooling his features back to impassiveness. "My father is a king," he grinds out.

Arya turns to him more fully, her own blade forgotten in her lap. "Is he not also a man?"

Jon sends her a warning look, back straightening.

Arya seems to read the stiffness in his posture, the furrow in his brow, because she's turning away from him then, disappointment shadowing past her features, a resigned scoff leaving her. "Are you not also a man, simply because you are a prince?" she grumbles out.

Jon stares at her, mouth parting over words he doesn't know how to bring to air. But he doesn't get the chance to voice them, nor the tangle of emotion left withering in his throat.

"Targaryen."

Jon looks up to find Robb's grim face framed by sunlight. He nods for him to follow. Jon grabs for a clean cloth to wipe down his blade. "What is it?"

"Deserter from the Night's Watch," he says solemnly. "Come on. Time you saw a bit of Northern justice."

Jon stands, sheathing his sword. He glances back to Arya, who's already standing herself, sighing as she tosses her rag aside. "Not that Father would ever let me join."

"Arya," Robb admonishes, but it's with a tender sort of resignation Jon hasn't heard before.

Arya waves him off easily. "I know, I know." She sighs heavily, nodding up at her eldest brother. "I know, Robb."

Robb chucks her beneath the chin, a soft smile sent her way, before he's urging Jon after him. "Bran, Rickon," he calls across the yard. The boys look up simultaneously. Theon seems to somber when he catches the look on Robb's face. "Father needs us."

Jon follows the Starks and Theon wordlessly, Ser Rodrik sighing as he racks the sparring blades and trails after them. Glancing up, Jon catches sight of the afternoon sun hanging low over the ramparts. Even now, he can tell the snow will still fall come nightfall.

Even now, he can feel the crawl of winter.

(It is coming.)

He looks ahead, keeps his stride.

(It's been coming for such a long, long time.)

* * *

Sansa trails her hand over the hilt of Jon's sword as it lays sheathed along the rack in their chambers. She'd known about the execution earlier that day, known about Jon's presence with her father and brothers when the sentence came down. Arya had told her upon her entrance to the hall midday, where Sansa sat sewing with Jeyne, shoving a bread roll into her mouth after the news.

Dinner was a quiet affair.

Now, alone in their chambers once more, Sansa can't help thinking of it. In the flicker of firelight from the hearth, she can see the etched lines along the hilt of his blade, the simple decoration. No dragons. No flames. Nothing to tie it to its master, truly. In a way, it's settling, though she can't precisely determine why.

"There's a thought in that head dying to get out, I can tell," Jon chuckles from his seat at the edge of the bed. He drops his boot to the floor, finally free of the day's trappings, his leather jerkin laying over the back of the nearby chair, clad now in only his breeches and untucked tunic.

Sansa turns to him at the comment, a brow raised.

He quirks a smile, leaning back on his hands, watching her. "I'm not completely unobservant, you know."

Sansa shakes her head, a soft smile at her lips. "No, you certainly are not." She turns back to the sword, hand gliding over the thick sheath, contemplative.

Jon watches her in silence, taking her in.

And then she sighs, turning back to him, her hand slipping from the blade. "I don't understand Arya's fascination with it. With killing, fighting, all of it."

Jon nods thoughtfully a moment, eyes drifting to the racked sword when he asks her, "Are you sure that's what the fascination is?"

Sansa furrows her brows, mouth pursed.

He glances back to her, straightening up. "Take it."

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. "What, your sword?"

Jon chuckles at her, motioning toward it. "Aye, the sword."

She eyes it doubtfully a moment, giving him one last incredulous look, but at his expectant expression, she squares her shoulders, brushing her hands over her shift in nervousness before reaching for it. It's far heavier than she expects, and her elbows buckle slightly as she lifts it from its place on the rack, unprepared for the strain.

Behind her, Jon smothers a laugh into his fist.

"Don't you dare mock me, Jon Targaryen," she warns him with a sly look over her shoulder, hefting the sword in her grasp.

Jon clears his throat, looking abashed, though amused still, and Sansa finds it in her to smile at the expression when she turns fully to him. She grips the blade by the hilt, the other holding up the sheathed end of it. She tips it back and forth in the light, glancing down the length of it. When Jon continues his silent watching of her, she peers up at him, shoulders shrugging. "What now?"

Jon shifts so that he's leaning with one elbow over his knee, dark curls falling over his brow, and the way the fire flickers over his face, suddenly somber and focused, has Sansa heating in her own skin. "You feel the weight of it?" he asks her, low and steady.

She nods, voice lost, taken abruptly by the image of him.

"That weight means something. Something more than the killing or the fighting. It's a responsibility."

"What responsibility?" she whispers, swallowing thickly when she finds her voice hoarse.

Jon tips his head, eyes intent. "To protect what you love."

Sansa clamps her mouth shut, unable to say more.

Jon leans back, motioning toward him. "Come here," he says softly, the words a gentle entreaty. It still feels like a command though, when her limbs go to him of their own accord. He stares up at her, hands going for her hips.

Sansa continues to watch him in keen anticipation, his sword still gripped tight between them, and then he's turning her, edging back along the bed a touch, drawing her down to sit between his legs, his chest pressed to her back through the thin material of her shift and his tunic. Sansa settles the sword in her lap, throat parched as Jon drags his hands down her arms to clasp over her own hands, pulling the blade slowly from its sheath. She feels his breath at her cheek, the scratch of his beard along the juncture between shoulder and neck, and she stiffens at the intimacy of the position, her chest constricting.

Jon seems unaware of her state, continuing to draw the sword out until it pulls fully from the sheath, glinting in the firelight, and he tosses the sheath aside. Sansa draws a deep breath in, eyes fixing to his hand when he takes her free one and turns it palm up, settling the cool steel of the blade atop her palm, the hilt still held tight between their joined grasps. His fingers thread through hers, hand braced beneath hers to hold the weight of the sword.

She can't deny the sense of potency she feels with it in her grasp, the might that fills her, a dark kind of satisfaction with something so deadly cradled in her palms.

"You see that?" he breathes at her ear.

Sansa nearly jumps at his voice, so lost in the sensation she had been. She licks her lips, turns slightly to him over her shoulder. "What?" It's a breathless exhale that passes her lips.

Jon's hand leaves hers beneath the blade, gliding up the length of it, skirting the edge, just a slice away from bleeding. Sansa's breath catches in her throat at the motion.

"The sharpness of it. The thickness of the blade," he rumbles at her ear, hand treading back to hers. "There's power in such a thing. The kind of power that can end a man's life."

Sansa sucks a sharp breath between her teeth, twisting to look at him, but his eyes aren't on her. They're fixed to the blade as he settles it along her lap, dark and glazed over, lost somewhere she may never know.

"It's not a light burden, believe me. And it never should be."

Sansa stills at the words, watching him, face softening when his gaze flickers back up to hers, seemingly just noticing her attention on him, and he dips a reassuring smile to her shoulder, lips warm even through her shift.

"Jon."

"You know, today, when your father had me accompany him to sentence that deserter," he begins, stopping suddenly, licking his lips before he continues, "He told me 'If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

Sansa blinks at the words. She's never heard the like from her father, but even now, she can hear his voice in them, his solemn bearing, his noble urging. Yes, it's exactly something her father would say. She finds a warmth in her chest she hadn't thought to find before. Gently, Sansa extracts her hand beneath Jon's around the hilt, lifting it to his cheek instead.

He glances at her, their faces only a breath away.

"I think I understand," she whispers, hand cradling his jaw, and she catches the way his gaze falls to her lips briefly, before shifting back to hers.

Jon clears his throat, looking back down to the sword from over her shoulder.

Sansa's hand slips from his cheek, her fingers tingling, winded somewhat. "Where did you get this sword?" she asks in a breathy whisper, cursing her faltering voice. She winds her hand back around the hilt, anchoring it to her, anchoring him to her.

Jon unthreads his hand from hers and slides his calloused palm over her thigh, up toward her hip, settling there with ease. He sighs into her shoulder, watching the shadows that flicker over the blade. "Ser Arthur commissioned it for me." His voice grows small, his hand curling over her hip. "Years ago. Before I was truly ready for it."

Sansa leans back against him, taking a deep breath. "You miss him."

There is silence at her shoulder for many long moments, his thumb rubbing circles along her hip in some measure of comfort, she knows. And then his other hand leaves the hilt of the sword in her grasp, fingers gliding over the tops of her thighs, and then dragging back along the swell of her hips, rolling her into him, a low groan leaving his chest at the motion.

Sansa arches slightly at the touch, mouth parting.

"Aye, I do," he rumbles into her neck, nosing at her hair. "But right now," he gets out on a rasp, fingers tugging the edge of her shift up over her thighs greedily, "I'm missing something else."

Sansa hums appreciatively, head lolling back along his shoulder, as she rolls her hips in his lap, reveling in the impatient huff that leaves him. "And what is that?" she manages through her hitched breath, lip caught between her teeth.

He bunches her shift at her waist efficiently, hand dipping down between her thighs. "This," he groans out, fingers sliding over her slickness, a curse grit out against her shoulder when he finds her without her smallclothes.

Her smile curls devilishly across her lips, unseen. She arches back against him, mewling when he slides a finger into her cunt, and she can feel his hardening cock at her backside, bucking against her with a low moan.

"Sansa," he manages in a croak, lips at her throat, a second finger sliding alongside the first.

She gasps, legs spreading over his lap, eyes slipping languidly shut. "Hmm?"

"Put the sword down," he growls out, pumping his fingers slowly in and out of her, his other hand dragging her back along his cock in a steady motion.

She hums in thought a moment, turning her head so that he has better access to her throat. "I don't know," she gets out between pants, smirk rising. "I rather like the feel of it in my hands."

Jon presses a long groan into the skin of her throat, teeth baring over the flesh, his fingers digging painfully into her hip when he grinds her back along his length, hard and aching for her. His fingers curl inside her, his chest pressed tight to her back when she gasps at the touch, at his hungry mouthing at her neck. "Careful," he snarls beneath the cover of her hair. "You might hurt yourself."

Sansa blinks back the haze, one hand leaving the sword in her lap to wrap around his at her hip. "I trust you," she whimpers, cunt clenching around his fingers.

Jon's hand stutters in its motion for the briefest second, his breath catching at the shell of her ear, and then he's pressing into her, forehead braced to her temple, a ragged sigh leaving him, and Sansa feels it all throughout her, a quiver beneath her skin, an ache between her legs that thunders all the way out, to the edges of her fingertips, to the tips of her toes, to the place where his mouth stays pressed to her sweat-dampened skin.

"I trust you," she whispers again, hand leaving his to tug pointedly at the material of his breeches, lifting her hips at the motion, and his hand leaves her hip to tug at his laces immediately, already keen to the meaning, fumbling to rid himself of them, and she laughs at the motion, leaning over the side to set the sword down as gently as she can against the edge of the bed with his fingers still inside her and his breeches being dragging down over his thighs, Jon unwilling to lift her fully from his lap and lose the feel of her. "But just to be safe," she giggles, releasing the hilt and letting it fall, forgotten, jostled to the floor when he tugs her back against him, fingers driving deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp when she braces a hand along his thigh to steady herself.

"Fuck the sword," he growls out, grinding against her, panting into her neck, and Sansa laughs again, fumbling for his cheek at her shoulder – anchoring.

* * *

The night before the wedding, Ned takes Jon down into the crypts.

He'd seen the entrance before, caught sight of the twin direwolf statues standing like guards before the darkness.

"The family crypts," Sansa had told him at his side, arm in his as they made their way toward the main courtyard upon the Tyrells' first arrival. He'd slowed to a halt at its edge, her whisper still in his ear.

"And all the Kings of Winter," she'd gone on to say, something wistful about the words, and he'd turned to her, recognized the tender look on her face, that one she always donned when recounting her tales and songs, her age-long loves. He'd been unable to do anything but share her awe, and he hadn't even stepped foot in them.

And yet now, when Ned claps a hand along his shoulder, a heavy sigh leaving him, nodding toward the darkened entrance with a gravelly "Come on then", Jon finds his feet rooted in the dirty snow. He stares long down the corridor, the flicker of torchlight casting faint, eerie shadows across the threshold, and he thinks maybe some things are supposed to stay dead.

But he can't seem to stop drudging up graves he hadn't meant to ever dig, and his mother's is only the first.

He thinks Ned knows this, in some regard, in some small measure. Because he stops to look back at him when Jon does not follow, and the sharp crease to his brow, the gentle dip of his frown, it all seems terribly, terribly unfair.

And Jon could laugh at such a thought.

"You owe this to her, boy," Ned says in a rough voice, and Jon hasn't even the mind to rankle at the address. Ned softens then, a hand wiping down his mouth with a sigh. "You owe this to yourself," he finishes, and after a moment's pause, he turns back to the crypts, striding in without waiting to see if Jon will follow.

He must know he will, though. He must know.

And he would be right.

There are torches propped along the wall at intervals all throughout corridors, the heat of them bleeding into the dirt and stone, suffusing him as he stalks on, following the dark image of his cloak-lined uncle, eyes flitting to the stone statues all along the way.

He does not recognize any of the faces, and he wonders if he should. But then, stone has never done a man justice, and so Jon looks on, follows Lord Stark silently through the turns of shadowed halls, until they slow finally, coming upon a woman who must be his mother, he knows, and yet, could be anyone down here in this haunting tomb.

Jon swallows thickly, coming to stand beside his uncle as he looks up, notices the fresh wreath of winter roses placed along his stone mother's hands.

Ned releases a soft chuckle beside him, and Jon glances toward him, brow raised in question.

Noticing his look, Ned nods to the flowers atop her open palms. "Must've been Sansa," he says.

Jon's eyes prick with tears before he can stop them, his gaze shifting back to the stature with a swiftness, his throat tight when he sucks a harsh breath between his teeth. He rocks back on his heels, bunches his hands into fists at his sides, takes a moment to steady himself.

They stand staring at the statue for an immeasurable amount of time.

Jon is beginning to think it's up to him to say something, but nothing makes any sense to say, and so he stays quiet. And so, he just breathes in the dark.

Lyanna, they called her.

The name feels wrong in his mouth. Nearly as wrong as 'mother', but for none of the right reasons.

Jon hangs his head.

"You know," Ned begins, voice hoarse from disuse, clearing it before he continues, "I realized today that I'd been angry with her for all this time."

Jon looks up at him.

He's staring at his sister's stone visage, chin high, eyes blinking furiously. His mouth is a thin line, a winter's cut, and there is grief there, Jon realizes suddenly. The kind of grief that never leaves.

The kind you lay down beside your bed at night and take up again every morning, like a mantle.

"For leaving us," he says, jaw clenching.

Jon turns his gaze back to the floor. "And angry at me," he finishes for him lowly, barely a whisper.

For killing her, he doesn't say.

Ned turns his heavy grey gaze upon him, jaw still clenched. "For a time," he tells him.

Some part of Jon is grateful for the admission. Grateful that Ned does not spare him the lance of his honesty, biting though it is.

The torches flicker around them. The heat settles slow into their bones.

Jon stays staring at the ground.

"I almost lost my wife when Arya came into this world," Ned says suddenly, voice tight.

Jon licks his lips, takes a steady breath. He does not lift his gaze.

"I remember thinking," Ned begins, throat constricting, shaking his head, "'How can such a small...such a small, helpless thing, ever be a killer?'" The words are a struggle, his voice cracking with them, his hand going over his face for a blinding, breathless moment.

Jon finally looks up at his mother. She is unmoved. Everlasting. He imagines she is cold to the touch, even with the blaring heat of the torches at their sides.

Something comes undone inside him, splintering out.

"You didn't take her from me," Ned says finally, hand drawn down over his mouth. "The gods did. And for whatever reason, I cannot fathom, but – but this I know. You did not take her from me." He turns then, watches Jon in the dim shadows, eyes a harrowing grey.

Jon takes a breath, holds it tight in his lungs, uncurls the fists at his sides. He can only nod, his voice laying slaughtered in his throat. He does not trust it to air.

Ned sighs deeply, turning back to Lyanna's statue. "I know you have questions. And I'm afraid I have very few answers. I never saw her again after she left Winterfell with Rhaegar. I never...never got to say goodbye. I mean, I don't - I don't even remember what words we last spoke to each other." He shakes his head, clears his throat.

Jon finally looks to him, and when their eyes meet, he finds the tears are already hot along his lids, his mouth a trembling line, the breath raking from him in short, shallow bursts.

It's a keen sort of longing. The regretful kind.

Jon feels it curl tight around his heart and tug, splitting all those years of resentment into shards that will never fit together properly again – that will never make a whole.

In pieces, Jon realizes.

In pieces does it go.

He may collect them bit by bit – he may clutch them tight to his chest, settle them side by side hoping for them to slip into place like jigsaws, but they will always stay as pieces.

This is how longing goes.

It is never whole.

"I cannot tell you what she hoped for in leaving, or what she hoped for in your father," Ned says on a rough exhale, shoulders pulling back. His eyes return to his sister, eyes softening somewhat.

Jon is lost somewhere between them.

The shadows make for fine comfort here.

"But I can tell you this," he says, voice sure suddenly, a step taken toward him, the brush of his shoulder just barely registering to Jon, his hand anchoring along the back of Jon's neck like a ghost, "She would have loved you."

Jon blinks up at him, unable to stem the sob that tears through his exhale, nor the quiver to his lip. "Uncle."

"As fiercely as she loved any of us, she would have loved you," he tells him, hand tightening over his neck, "Above all else," he promises, eyes intent on his, head dipped toward his nephew's, the tremble to his jaw staggering Jon where he stands.

He misses her, Jon realizes. And he doesn't know how.

He misses her more than he's ever missed anything.

'Lyanna's boy', they call him.

And oh, how he yearns for it now.

Lyanna's boy, Lyanna's boy, Lyanna's boy.

Like a song. Like a promise.

He thinks he would have liked to have a mother, after all. Maybe especially her.

Ned takes a soldiering breath, drags his hand from Jon's neck. Many moments pass as he stands staring at his sister's statue once more. And then he takes a step back, glancing at Jon one final time. "Take your time," he says, and nothing more. He lays a hand along his shoulder, a gentle squeeze, and then he's gone, disappearing the way he came, and Jon is left staring at his stone mother, this silent ghost, this reminder of everything he'd never thought to want.

He doesn't know how long he stands there. He only knows that the shadows of the torches have shifted when Sansa makes her way slowly toward him. He sees her in his peripheral, has become attuned to her footsteps.

He would know her anywhere, after all.

"My lord," she greets, voice a gentle lull, and he cannot help the breath that leaves him at the words.

Like a lullaby. Like a cradle of winter wind.

Jon closes his eyes and breathes deep.

"I'm sorry if I've intruded," she says, halting just out of reach, her hands bundled tightly before her.

"You haven't," he tells her, a slow shake to his head, and the words are raspy for their disuse.

Sansa stays standing just outside his reach, watching him quietly, and he stretches a hand out toward her, eyes opening to fix once again on his stone mother.

She comes dutifully, a whisper of a promise. She takes his arm, settles against his side to stare up at her aunt, a reverent silence overtaking the both of them.

His eyes drift to the winter roses immediately, but his tongue is still heavy with loss, still unused to these words. They start and stop and start again along his tongue, only to be swallowed back with uncertainty.

Sansa stays quiet at his side, mindful of his turbulence, unobtrusive in her presence.

He grips at her arm with a need he doesn't know how to voice.

"I don't know what to say to her," he croaks out finally, a breath catching jagged and tear-laced in his throat.

Sansa tips her head up toward him, gazing at him quietly, before she brushes a loose curl back from his forehead, her hand grazing his temple in a slowness that has him leaning toward the touch, his mouth parting silently.

She settles her hand at his shoulder, her gaze still fixed to his profile. "Then say nothing," she tells him. "Or say everything – all of it."

Jon clenches his jaw, eyes blinking furiously through their salt-sheen.

Sansa sighs beside him, her hand dragging down from his shoulder, along his arm, settling against her other hand held in the crook of his elbow. "Say what you must. There is no need for more."

Jon screws his eyes shut, a shuddering breath leaving him.

Did you know all this would happen? he means to ask her, as though that is the question that matters.

Jon shakes his head, frown deepening.

And more than that –

More than that, he cannot stop the way it all comes frothing to the surface.

Did you know what you risked when you did it? Did you ever regret it? Did you wish for me, or was I simply an accident? Did you welcome me when you finally knew? Did you sing to me? Did you laugh when I kicked? Did you call me yours?

And this is where he breaks.

Did you suffer, in the end? Did it hurt beyond imagining? Did you resent me for it? Did you wish I'd never been? Did you even hold me before the end? Did you want to?

Jon sucks a sharp breath through his teeth.

And did you cry?

Gods, but he hopes she didn't. He hopes beyond anything else that she didn't cry for him. Not for him, not for – him.

Jon's head dips down, a hand braced to his mouth.

Sansa stares at him with tear-filled eyes, a soft sniffle leaving her, and then she wipes at her eyes, pulls her hand from the crook of his elbow, smoothing down her skirts in a nervous, self-conscious habit that he has grown far too accustomed to now to ever dismiss again.

"I'll not intrude any longer, my lord," she says on a shaky whisper, turning to leave him.

And did you hope, in the end? Even through the pain – did you hope? Like I have?

Jon reaches out, snatching for her hand before she can step any further.

Sansa stills in his grasp, glancing down to his touch, to the needy curl of his fingers along hers.

"Stay," Jon rasps, eyes still fixed to the statue before him, still unwavering, still tear-laced.

Sansa opens her mouth, closes it, stares at him in the flickering torchlight of the crypt.

"Please," he manages, voice barely more than a choke, "Will you stay?"

She stays watching him in the faint light, her hand limp in his trembling grasp, in his fervent grip.

Eons and epochs and the long wind of winter passes through them before she breathes again, before she steps toward him, before she turns her palm and threads her fingers through his.

"Okay," she says simply, stepping into his side.

Jon nods, unable to look at her, face crumbling, hand over his eyes when the first sob takes him. "Okay," he says, a tremulous gasp, hand gripping hers.

Sansa nods, nose pressed to the furs at his shoulder. "Okay," she says.

And so they stay.

And so he weeps.

And so it goes – in pieces.

(Bit by bit, it falls away. Bit by bit, they make a whole.)

[spookyold-saintjm]

#8 and #36 for Mayor Damien x Reader where the reader is already aware that Damien has feelings for them (from his body language and william and mark may or may not have told them) but they still want to hear it come from Damien himself. Thank you!

8: Do you want me to show you?

36: So when are you going to confess your undying love for me?

From my prompt list.

I’ve been wanting to try writing Damien so I hope I did him justice! This occurs during the events of WKM. Altered the prompts a little to fit my thoughts and it’s a little long BUT I loved writing my first Damien piece! I’ll definitely be doing more.

WKM Damien x reader

The butler stepped aside as you slowly entered the exquisitely decorated entryway of Mark’s home. A few weeks prior, you’d been sent a simple invitation to a poker night with Mark and some of your old friends and current coworkers who were all a part of Mark’s inner circle from various parts of his life. Why here, why now, you weren’t so sure, but you’d had a lot of stress sitting on your shoulders at work lately with your new position, so why not spend a night having a little fun?

You thanked the tall, dark-haired butler for the glass of champagne he handed you as you stepped further into the room and surveyed your surroundings. It had been a long while since you’d set foot in this place, but it seemed as if it were frozen in time, hardly changed at all. It seemed that some of the other guests had arrived as well; you’d run into William before you’d even set foot inside, and you soon found the detective (Abe, was it? You weren’t as familiar with him) was in the next room over, talking to…right.

You froze, as you watched Damien speak with the detective. Of course, you knew he would be there; you’d seen the invitation sitting on his desk the day after you’d received yours, when you’d gone into his office to deliver a stack of documents from your department. You hadn’t discussed it with him, but you knew he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have the gang all together again, despite the somewhat random invitation.

He must have been working late, coming straight from his office, as he was still wearing the suit you’d seen him in earlier in the day. Classic Damien, you thought with a small smile as you debated what to say when you approached him…

“So, the boy still hasn’t taken his shot, has he?” The colonel’s voice suddenly behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin, at which he chuckled as you spun around to glare at him.

“Oh, sorry to frighten you.” He held up his hands in mock surrender with a smile. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you crossed your arms and tilted your head in question, but it couldn’t mask the color tinting your cheeks.

The colonel shook his head in disappointment. He tilted his head toward the men speaking in the other room. “Oh, please. Damien’s been fawning over you, too. Ever since you had your first class together.” His eyes narrowed at you. “You do realize that…don’t you?”

Oh? You’d always suspected, or at least hoped, that Damien maybe, just maybe, would one day consider you as more than just a good friend. He was one of your best friends, actually. You had stuck by each other through so much. But when your college years had come and gone and you’d shared nothing any more romantic than drunken kisses at one of Mark’s wilder parties, you tried to put those thoughts aside.

You had never lost touch, however, and eventually ended up working for him under his then newly-appointed title of Mayor. Even so, nothing had happened since. Damien had always been someone so intensely focused on his work; his drive to improve the world around him and while being successful in his own endeavors often overshadowed most everything else, so why would the potential of a relationship with you be any different? 

Although, that would explain why he was always there to greet you when your work brought you to his side of city hall, why the usually strong-spoken and charismatic mayor would occasionally get quieter and stumble over his words at first sight of you, why your occasional, casual meet-ups for lunch always ended up lasting so long that he had to rush to get to his next meeting on time…

Something in your face must have given away your thoughts, because the colonel suddenly elbowed you in the ribs. “Ah, come now! Life’s too short for you two to keep going on like this.” He started to step away, towards Damien and the detective. “I’ll just let him know you’re here and—”

“No!” you panicked and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to an abrupt halt. He turned back towards you, your grasp on him still tight. “William! Don’t you dare!”

The colonel cocked an eyebrow at you at the stern use of his name, and used his free hand to adjust his hat that had nearly topped off his head when you grabbed him as he waited for you to speak.

“Fine. But I want to hear him say it. I want to be sure.”

William’s smile was parts smug and relieved. “About time,” he grinned. You released your hold on him, sticking your tongue out at your old friend before turning and stepping into the next room. You took in a deep breath just before you stopped next to Damien and Abe, greeting them both.

“Oh, y/n! So good to see you.” Damien’s eyes brightened as he looked to you, a broad smile crossing his face. You returned his smile just as William strolled over, calling for the detective’s attention, who excused himself to speak with the colonel. 

You glanced over at your friend with a long side-eye, and his wink and nod of his head toward Damien didn’t go unnoticed…by you, or Damien.

Thanks a lot, “Colonel.”

Damien’s smile faltered only slightly as he glanced between the now-departing William and Abe. “What was that about?“

“Oh, you know how he is.” You shrugged dismissively, hoping that he didn’t notice the faint strain in your voice as you tried to regain your composure.

Damien’s laugh was halted, somewhat nervous. “Oh, do I ever.” His eyes met yours as he reached to run his hand through his dark hair. He released a short sigh before speaking again, moving to straighten his bow tie. “Say, y/n, there’s something I actually wanted to speak with you about…” 

Damien was cut off by Mark’s voice suddenly echoing through the room. You both looked up to see him strolling down the spiral staircase, his eyes bright as he acknowledged everyone and announced the official beginning of the night’s festivities, the promise of how it would be one of the most memorable nights of your lives.

Then the poker game began. You’d attempted to sit next to Damien at the table, but Mark had pulled both he and the colonel in next to him, leaving you forced to sit on the opposite side. You and Damien would occasionally exchange glances between rounds and glasses of wine, both of you knowing there was a conversation that had been left unfinished. 

The game continued and the room became more blurry, the group’s voices getting louder, the game becoming less involved. Eventually, after entirely too much money had been passed around and won and lost and won over again, you decided to take yourself out of the game for a bit, excusing yourself to get some fresh air.

You weren’t at all surprised when Damien found you not long after.

“y/n? Are you out here?” he called as he opened the door leading out onto the second-floor balcony where you’d eventually found yourself. You stood with your arms resting on the balcony’s edge, your eyes fixed on the shimmering pool below.

“Hey now, be careful,” Damien’s voice was closer to you, pulling you gently by your shoulders away from the railing. He knew you well enough to know although you were still coherent of what was going on around you, you became a little more clumsy when you’d been drinking. 

You sent him a small smile in thanks. His hands rested on your shoulders for another moment, his touch suddenly vanishing once he realized he hadn’t yet moved. 

You tilted your head at him, getting straight to the point. “So,” you started, “you had something you wanted to tell me earlier?”

“Oh,” Damien straightened himself, finding anywhere else to look but back at you. “I, yes, well, I…” he sighed, clasping his hands together in front of him before eventually forcing himself to meet your gaze. “y/n, I’ve wanted to tell you this for some time, but it never seemed like the right time. And, well, to be honest I wasn’t quite sure what you would—”

You found yourself smiling, because you knew. You knew where this was going, he was going to tell you how he felt. 

But you found your mouth running faster than you brain, and stopped him.“Are you going to confess your undying love for me?” 

If Damien had had one more glass of wine, your words probably would have been enough to make him faint. His eyes widened, his mouth agape. Although the lighting outside was dim, you were certain of the rare blush that had appeared in his cheeks. 

“Am I—are you—you—wh-what?”

“The colonel spoke to you about me. About,” you gestured back and forth with your hand at the air between the two of you. “us, didn’t he?”

Damien’s hands dropped to his sides. “H-how do you know that?” 

“He gave me the run-around too, don’t worry.” You replied, a bit surprised at your own surge of confidence in confronting him about the matter. 

“Oh.” Damien looked away running a hand through his hair and letting out a heavy breath before facing you again. “Yes, well, It’s just, we’ve known each other for so long, and I truly do care about you very much, and��”

You raised an eyebrow at him, awaiting him to actually finish his thought. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him so flustered, which was both amusing and making your heart swell with your own feelings for him reflected in front of you.Finally, he instead just reached out for your hands, carefully, slowly taking them into his own. 

“Can I show you?” 

You nodded as you used his grip on your hands to pull him closer, now with only mere inches between you. “I would like that.”He softly pressed his lips to yours, and your eyes fluttered shut with the relief that, finally, this was happening. You smiled into the kiss and leaned deeper into Damien. It wasn’t the first time you’d both kissed, but the first time that you knew meant something more. 

Damien reached up with one hand to caress your cheek, keeping you close as your lips danced together in a perfect match. You draped an arm atop his shoulder, letting your hand rest at the back of his neck. The scent of his cologne was familiar and new and intoxicating all at once, and you hummed happily at the contentment you felt in the moment. 

Your lips parted slowly, hesitantly, but you knew you had to separate or you’d be there all night. Damien pulled you close, and you rested your head against his shoulder as his arms fully wrapped around you. You felt him rest his cheek atop your head as you both slowly started to sway to the music from the party still going on below, the sounds drifting through the door Damien had left cracked open when he’d come outside. You spent a few peaceful, silent moments just enjoying each other’s closeness.

“You know, for a thriving politician, you struggled with your words a bit there,” you eventually teased. Damien chuckled as he grasped your shoulders, stepping back so that he could meet your eyes.

"I love you, y/n. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I want to love you for even longer than that. How is that?”

You laughed, a sound that filled Damien with joy to his very soul. “A great improvement,” you replied. “I…I love you too, Damien.”

“Good,” he was practically beaming as he pressed another short, light kiss to your lips before he grasped your hand before he began to lead you back inside. “Now, I think you and I both have some words for our gossiping colonel.”

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever- Chapter 8

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

“He’s such a dick!” Peter exclaimed, flopping on his bed. You laid down next to him and ran your fingers through his soft hair. You felt him relax immediately under your touch.

“What did Flash do today?” you asked. This was a pretty common point of conversation between you and Peter. Flash always found a way under Peters skin and you were always the one to dig him out.

“He said I photoshopped our pictures together on Instagram. And he said you’d never even look at me, even if I was, and I quote, ‘waiting your table on your date with him’. He’s such a dick! You do look at me.” Peter protested. You sighed. You and Peter had been together for three glorious weeks. And each of those weeks, Peter had Flash on his back about your relationship.

“Yes I do. And I love what I see.” You assured him. Peter smiled slightly. He was too angry to fully appreciate the compliment.

“He tells everyone I’m lying about us being together. I didn’t even tell people, Ned did. And when I said I was gonna take the day off of school to spend our one month anniversary together, he said it was probably just gonna be me alone in my room reading your articles and crying because you’d never give me the time of day. I wish he would believe me. I hate constantly having to defend our relationship.” Peter mumbled. You kissed his cheeks and rolled onto his chest. Your one month anniversary was just a week away. You two planned on spending every second together to commemorate the event.

“Take my mind off of him, please. What’s new in my beautiful girlfriends life?” Peter asked. You two absentmindedly compared hand sizes before locking your fingers together.

“I have my final interview with Cletus next week. Then I really gotta finish my story.” You told him.

“You’ll get it done. You’re so efficient. When’s it due?”

“Three weeks.” You answered.

“You know what that means.” Peter said. You nodded.

“Balls to the walls.” You said at the same time he said “Pedal to the metal.”

You giggled and he laughed loudly.

“I like how I made a crude reference and you made one about flowers. It really highlights our personalities.” You pointed out. Peter cocked his head.

“Flowers?” He questioned.

“Yea. Petals. Petal to the medal.” You said. Peter burst out laughing. The whole bed shook.

“Aw baby no. It’s pedal to the metal not petal to the metal. Why would you push petals against metal?” He asked.

“I don’t know. Why would you put your balls to the wall?” You shot back.

“I personally wouldn’t put my balls against any wall.” Peter said matter of factly. Him saying something so out of character made you snort with laughter. You immediately covered your mouth and burned red.

“That was the grossest sound. I’m so sorry.” You said with hands still covering your face.

“Don’t be sorry. I love all your sounds.” Peter said as he moved your hands to plant kisses on your face. He started with kisses on your cheeks and slowly moved down to your neck. This was new territory for the both of you. You let out a soft giggle.

“I like that sound too.” Peter said as he perked his head up. You smiled fondly and it gave him the confidence to keep going. He placed more hot kisses down your neck and you let out another soft sound.

“I like that sound as well.” He laughed into your neck. His lips found their way under your ear in just the right place.

“Peter.” You breathed. He stopped and looked at you. His eyes were full of something you’d never seen before. Pure love and adoration for you. But it wasn’t the puppy love you were used to seeing with him. It was adult love. Committed love. You looked him deep in the eyes and nodded. Without saying a word, you both agreed to take the next step and solidify your love for each other.

That night, you and Peter laid awake and just stared each other. Neither of you said a word. Everything had already been said that night in his bed. You absentmindedly ran your fingers over his lips as he twirled your hair around his finger. You loved him. You wanted so badly to tell him. But Peter was a teenage boy. He just experienced his first time and you don’t want to overwhelm him with his first “I love you” as well. But from the way Peter was looking at you, you knew he knew how you felt.

“I want you to meet my boss.” Peter spoke. He had a dreamy smile on his face. “He’s my mentor and basically my father. He’s very important to me and so are you. I want us all to have dinner together. Let’s do it tomorrow night. He’s gonna love you.”

You craned your neck and smiled brightly at Peter.

“I’d love to meet him.” You said. And you meant it. Peter barely gave any details about his internship. You didn’t even know his bosses name. You cuddled in closer to Peter and felt absolute happiness all throughout your body. He felt it too. Peter Parker was over the moon with joy. He had never been happier.

The next day after school, Peter practically ran down the steps to greet you. He was still on a high from the night before. You were running slightly late and Peter stood in your usually spot and waited for you.

“Whats wrong, Penis Parker? Did Iron Man forget to pick you up today?” Flash teased. Peter turned his back to him.

“No. If you must know, Y/n is picking me up. She’s just a little late.” Peter grumbled. Flash laughed tauntingly.

“Right, Y/n. Is she gonna pick you up on her unicorn and take you on a date at Avengers Tower?” Flash mocked. Peter just ignored him.

“I can’t blame you for pretending to date her though. She’s so hot. I’d like to take her out and show her a good time. Better than you ever could, Penis Parker.” He continued. Peter rolled his eyes.

“She’s not hot Flash, she’s beautiful. She’s a girl, not a cup of tea.” Peter retorted. Flash’s cheeks heated up at Peters comeback.

“Whatever. I’d still bang her. Even if she was a cup of tea.” Flash said. Peters blood began to boil. How dare he speak about his girl that way? Peter wanted to kill Flash for even thinking about you.

“Me too. That girl is straight up glorious. I’d let her do anything she wanted to me, I swear.” One on Flash’s idiot friends chimed in. Peter shot him the death glare. It was getting increasingly harder to stand there and listen to those idiots degrade you.

“You’re disgusting. Show some respect.” Peter said lowly. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Little did Peter know, your super hearing allowed you to hear the whole conversation as you approached his school. An idea formed in your head.

A nice size crowd had gathered around Peter and Flash’s goons. Peter tapped his foot and waited for your arrival.

“Aw. Penis wants us to show his imaginary girlfriend some respect.” Flash laughed. At that moment, you pulled up on your bike and swiftly took off your helmet. Shocked murmurs swept throughout the crowd. Most stunned of all was Flash, who looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. All eyes were on you. Peter noticed Flash’s reaction and smirked.

“Hi baby. I’m sorry I’m late. I’m having trouble getting around after last night.” You said apologetically and shot Peter a wink. You had practiced it in your head. Peters face broke out in an embarrassed smile as boys began to pat him on the back. A few applauded.

“It’s alright, darling.” Peter said, stepping towards you. You smirked and gave him a big sloppy kiss. It was way more PDA than you were used to but you knew it’d give Peter enough street credit for the rest of high school.

“Let’s go babe. Bye Flush.” You called and gave Flash a flirty little wave. If he was gonna call your boyfriend Penis, he was gonna get called Flush. Peter climbed on the back of your bike and you two sped away.

“Thanks for what you did back there. I hate how disgusting those guys are. I’m sorry they were objectifying you.” Peter apologized once you were back in his room.

“It’s alright. It happens.” You shrugged.

“But it shouldn’t. And did you see how they all acted when you kissed me? Like all the sudden I was cool because you were my girlfriend? They acted like you’re some prize that I won. Don’t get me wrong, you’re incredibly hot and I’m incredibly lucky to have you. But what they don’t understand is, there’s a million reasons why I’m lucky to have you. Your beauty isn’t even one of them. There’s so much to you. So much grandeur and depth. They reduced you to a pretty face. They don’t care how smart you are, or how funny you are, or how kind. They don’t care that you’re the most talented investigative reporter in the world. They only care about what they see on the outside. And it makes me sick to think about.” Peter grumbled. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Peter, I don’t care what a single one of those bonehead boys had to say. I only care about you. You are the sweetest, most attentive and most caring boy in the world. You’re a prince among men. Those boys at your school are just jealous that you actually have a brain in your head and a heart in your chest when they don’t. Don’t let them get to you. And thank you for all that you said. I really care about you, Peter.” You said while you looked deeply into his eyes. You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you chickened out. You had only ever said it to Andy. Peter kissed you sweetly.

“I really care about you too. Now come on, let’s work on your story.”

That night, you prepared to eat dinner at Peters bosses house. You wore a casual dress and did your hair in loose curls. You wanted to make a good impression on Peters mentor. You took a cab, not wanting to ride your motorcycle and risk the helmet messing up either of your hair, to a wooden cabin near a lake. Peter knocked on the door and rubbed his hands together in excitement.

“Here we go.” He beamed.

The door opened and your body froze as your eyes landed on Tony Stark. The very Tony Stark who made you your suit. The very Tony Stark who knew you were Venom. The very Tony Stark who was your boyfriends boss.

You felt sick to your stomach. Tony felt it to. He glanced from you, to Peter, to your interlocked hands, then back at you. Your eyes whispered an apology. He looked equally as apologetic. He was sorry for how badly this would end when all the secrets were out.

“Come on in, kids. Dinners almost ready.” Tony said suddenly. Peter grinned at you and lead you inside. You faked a smile before giving Tony one last look.

Dinner went as awkwardly as you could imagine. You and Tony couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other. Peter was too excited about his two favorite people meeting to notice the tension in the air.

“Y/n is an investigative reporter.” Peter gushed.

“Is she?” Tony said, never looking away from you. You felt terrified by his stare.

“She took down Carlton Drake and soon she’s gonna take down Cletus Kasady.” Peter continued with a proud smile. He put his hand on your knee under the table and squeezed.

“Oh really? How did you do it?” Tony asked. You gulped. He knew exactly how you did it.

“I just followed my instincts and didn’t let up until the truth was out.” You stammered. Tony nodded vaguely.

After an awkward dinner of Tony and you staring each other down, he asked you to follow him into another room.

“Y/n, will you join me in the lab? I got something that might help your story.” Tony announced. You felt fear run through your body, all the way to your scalp. You nodded and got up. Your legs were shaking and you prayed Peter didn’t notice. He got up as well.

“I’ll come.” He said. Tony immediately turned around.

“You stay here, kid. I just want a quick word with your girlfriend.” Tony said. Peter sat back down with a smile on his face at the sound of someone referring to you as his girlfriend.

Once in the safety of the lab, you let out the breath you had been holding in all night. You looked anxiously at Tony. He had his back to you, and was still deciding what to say.

“Does he know?” Tony asked suddenly. You shook your head even though Tony couldn’t see you.

“No, sir. I haven’t told him.” You said.

“Do you know about him?” Tony asked, turning to face you. Your face contorted in confusion.

“Do I know what about him?” You questioned. Tony’s face fell. He realized the extent of the situation. You and Peter were in love and Spider-Man and Venom were enemies. And neither of you knew the other’s secret identity. Tony’s heart broke for the young couple. He knew how much Peter loved Y/n. He also knew how fragile Peter was. Tony wondered if the shock would hurt less if he made the teenagers confront each other sooner rather than later.

“Nothing. Here’s what I need from you, tell him the truth.” Tony stated. You opened your mouth to protest but he held up his hand.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hannah Montana. You need to tell Peter about Venom, or I will. End of discussion.” Tony said sternly.

“But-“

“What did I say? End of discussion.” He repeated.

“But he’ll hate me.” You said sadly. Tony looked at you empathically. She doesn’t even know how bad this is he thought.

“He’ll hate you more if you wait to tell him. You have to rip the bandaid off. And who knows, maybe he has secrets of his own.” Tony said. You stared at the floor, not wanting to go back to the dinning room to Peter. You wanted to avoid him, and the conversation, as long as you could.

“You don’t understand, Mr. Stark. The second I tell him, I lose him. I can’t do that Mr. Stark. I’m not ready to lose him, I just got him.” You said in a horse voice. You didn’t want to cry in front of a man you idealized but your heart was breaking.

“You don’t know for sure that you’ll loose him. You need to tell him. Now. You know where he is.” Tony ordered. You could feel yourself beginning to cry no matter how hard you tried to fight it. It was that terrible feeling of needing to cry but feeling too embarrassed too. You could feel hot tears at your waterline.

“Don’t do that. I don’t want a crying teenage girl on my hands.” Tony said in response to your watering eyes.

“But I love him.” You cried. “I love him and I don’t want to lose him.”

Tony’s attention snapped to you. You had never seen Tony Stark at a loss for words before.

“You love him?” He asked. You nodded.

“With all my heart.”

“Have you ever told him that?” Tony asked.

“No.” You said shyly. It was an awkward thing to talk about with a man you barely knew.

Tony looked angry for a moment, then disheartened.

“This is going to crush him.” He muttered.

“I never wanted to hurt him, Mr. Stark. Please believe that. But no matter how much I wish for things to be different, they can’t be. This is who I am. I am…we are Venom. That won’t change.”

“You’ve already hurt him and you don’t even know it.” Tony said. You didn’t really understand what he meant.

“Are you familiar with Georgie O’Keefe?” You asked suddenly. “He had this quote that says ‘when you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else.’ That’s how I feel about Peter, Mr. Stark. I want to give him that world. My world.”

“Venom is a part of your world.” He reasoned.

“I know. And I’ll tell him. Just, not yet. I can’t lose him just yet.”

Tony looked at you for a long time and sighed.

“Fine. I’ll give you one week. If you don’t tell him by then, I will.” Tony said firmly. You nodded sadly.

“Okay.” You said. You wiped a tear that had managed to fall. “I’ll tell him.”

“You better. Now let’s go back in there and give him the best night of his life. He deserves that much.” Tony said and you agreed.

You two went back out and ate dessert with Peter. You did your best to enjoy and decide of it, knowing your time with Peter was almost up.

Peter enjoyed his evening to the fullest extent and never suspected a thing. You’d sneak glances at Tony every now and then. He was always staring back.

“I had the best time. Thank you Mr. Stark.” Peter said as you two got ready to leave.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Stark. It was a pleasure to meet you.” You shook Tony’s hand. He shook yours back firmly, both of you knowing you had already met.

“Anytime. And Y/n, good luck. I’m rooting for you.” Tony said honestly. You gave him a thankful nod.

“Good luck with what?” Peter asked.

“My story.” You answered quickly. You ushered Peter out the door and gave Tony one last look. He nodded at you and held up one finger. You gulped. This was going to be the worst week of your life.

Tag List 🏷

@monimiin @truthdaze @honeyccoated @constellationswithapurpose @condy-wants-a-cookie @zipp0flare @vxidnik @maddie-laufeyson @bubblegumholland @the-blindwatcher @pmvelez97 @ziggyspurplehaze @grippleback-galaxy @fangeekkk

[lgbtyrus]

Two Exes on Mars

Part 2/?

Words: 2,566

Amber walked into TJ’s bedroom that night asking, “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” TJ asked her, looking up from his desktop. He wasn’t even covering the fact that he was looking at picture of Cyrus. Amber sighed and walked over behind him as he kept clicking.

“Why did you ask Buffy about Cyrus?”

“Because you won’t tell me about Cyrus.”

“It’s not my place. I worked hard to build my relationship with Cyrus, and I wasn’t going to let you throw it away.”

“I just want to know if he’s okay. You won’t even give me that much,” TJ sighed, clicking through Hanukah photos.

“Why do you even want to know, TJ?” Amber asked him. She’s always been mad at TJ for dumping Cyrus, no doubt. Especially because they both still loved each other. “You completely broke his heart.”

TJ didn’t say anything before whispering, “I’m sure he’s fine now.”

“You don’t know that, actually,” Amber said, angry at her brother. Talking about Cyrus always led to both of them fighting or both of them crying. He couldn’t guess where this was going to lead to.

“Because you won’t tell me,” TJ reminded her, continuing to click through New Years Eve photo. It was Their sophomore year of high school when someone had taken a picture of them kiss. It was one of the many pictures that broke his ribcage and punched his heart.

“You don’t deserve to know, TJ,” Amber rolled her eyes, sitting down on his bed. TJ knew this was going to take a while.

“I still think of him every day. I don’t even know if I’ve gotten any better. I somehow always hope that I could run into him at MSU or see his face when I’m walking through Shadyside during visits, but I haven’t seen him since graduation.”

“He’s in California living his best life.”

“So he’s happy there?” TJ asked her, turning to look at her. There was a photo of Cyrus with their late cat Macaroni on his lap on his screen currently.

“I wouldn’t know,” Amber shrugged.

“Don’t you still talk to him like once a week?” TJ asked her, frowning. “Why won’t you tell me, Amber?”

“I already said that it’s not my place, TJ,” Amber said. “If Cyrus wanted you to know how he’s doing, he’d respond to your messages that you are too scared to send.”

“You can’t just text your ex out of the blue and ask how they’re doing Amber,” TJ rolled his eyes.

“Me and Jonah are literally best friends,” Amber rolled her eyes more dramatically to mock him.

“That happened years ago, though.”

“Okay then,” Amber crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “wait years.” TJ glared at her before going back to his desktop, continuing to go through photos. He found one of him and Cyrus at the swings. Andi took them on a weekend she came down to visit, so they looked professional. TJ printed a few of the pictures from this day out, and they were currently in a box in the attic of his home.

“I think I made a mistake, Amber,” TJ sighed, once he landed on his all time favorite photo. It was him and Cyrus at junior prom, slow dancing in their matching tuxedos. His eyes teared up just looking at it.

“I know you did, TJ,” Amber remorselessly said. “I don’t know how you thought breaking up was going to hurt less than doing long distance.”

“Is it always going to hurt?” TJ asked her, staring at other prom photos.

“Considering you let go of the guy who was probably your soulmate, yeah. It will.”

-

Winter break came along Cyrus was finally back in Shadyside. Amber was literally holding TJ hostage in his room, not letting him leave. She stood below his chin, but his fear of hurting her was the only reason why he just didn’t barge past her.

“You are not leaving this house, Tom Jacob,” she said, holding her arms out.

“First of all, it’s not that,” TJ rolled his eyes, “second of all, I’m not going to go see Cyrus.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Thomas Jose?” Amber scoffed, looking up to give him a dirty look. TJ didn’t bother to look at her. He kept his head looking up as she continued to scold him, “You have made no attempt to leave this house the entire four days you’ve been here, but you hear me, on a private phone call with Cyrus that he’s going to come back home today and all of the sudden, you shower?”

“I shower every day, Amber.”

“You know that’s not my point, Tyler Jackson!”

“You don’t remember what TJ stands for, do you?” TJ asked her, still not making eye contact.

“Of course not,” Amber told him. “But still, you’re not leaving this house to go crush all the progress you and Cyrus have made.”

“I just want to have a conversation with him, Amber,” TJ said, trying to blink away the tears that were forming before she noticed. That would be terrible.

“About what? ‘Oh hi, Cyrus,’” Amber started to mock his voice, “’I just wanted to see how you were doing after I got your heart and dragged it through the dirt!’”

“Okay, Amber!” TJ yelled and look at her. “That’s enough.” Amber and him looked each other in the eye, and Amber was clearly trying to figure out if he was tearing up. TJ wasn’t exactly a sensitive person but certain topics like Cyrus let the waterworks unscrew.

Amber didn’t say anything else before making her way out of the room and saying, “If you want to see him, at least text him first. Give him the option to say no.”

His door shut close and TJ laid back on his bed, rubbing his face roughly. He didn’t have Cyrus on social media anymore, and he had his number still, but he doesn’t know if it’s changed or if Cyrus blocked it. He hasn’t texted him since that one time he replied to him saying goodnight. Out of all of the nights since the breakup, that was the worst one. He still loved him with his entire being that night. He probably still did.

TJ took out his phone and looked for Cyrus Goodman. He’s been wanting to this for months, but he still didn’t know what to say.

TJ: Hey

That’s it? TJ wondered. Hey is all I can say after all I did?

TJ: I know this is out of the blue. I just wanted to know how you’re doing.

For almost an hour, TJ laid in his bed, listening to music. Spotify was really the only social media type of thing he had Cyrus on, and he often saw that he would listen to music they had dance parties to or napped to. It was how he knew Cyrus was feeling and boy, was he often listening to his sad music playlist.

Cyrus: I’m fine. I just got home.

TJ’s heart beat went out of control. He didn’t know if he was going to get a text back, but he also didn’t plan for what to do with himself if he replied. He didn’t even know what he wanted out of this conversation. He wanted Cyrus, but he wasn’t sure what side of Cyrus.

TJ: Glad you’re home safe.

TJ couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Cyrus: Are you home too or??

TJ: Ya I’ve been in Shadyside for a few days already.

Cyrus: What have you been doing this whole time?

TJ: Nothing tbh. I’ve just been home.

Cyrus: Want to do something?

TJ did not think this was going to happen. TJ did not think Cyrus would even ask to see him. He was wondering if Andi and Buffy were coaching him text at that very moment. No. Buffy would kill both of us before we ever met up. What is Cyrus thinking?

TJ: They need help passing out toys in West Shadyside at the Elk’s tonight at 6. I volunteered. You wanna come with or do something else later? I figure you’re tired.

Cyrus: No that sounds fun I’m down

TJ: Okay I’ll pick you up at 5:30.

Cyrus: See you then

-

TJ had three hours to get out of bed and get ready, but he didn’t move until he only had thirty minutes let before having to pick up Cyrus. He also didn’t want Amber to see him, either, so he waited for her 5PM nap. He really couldn’t lie to her now.

He got out of bed and dressed himself in clothes that have been sitting in his closet for a while. While changing, he recognized a white shirt hanging up with a T-Rex on it and realized that was one of Cyrus’ favorite shirts. He had wanted to give him back that and a few other things after the breakup, but he never found it in him to go to him. He felt like he would just succumb and beg him to take him back. He still had no idea what was going to happen when they sat in the car for a while.

TJ grabbed the shirt before heading downstairs and going to his car. He might have not been at Cyrus’ in a while, but he definitely had the route stitched in his heart. His heart pounded faster and faster in his chest as he approached the house where so much happened. He had been wanting this for roughly 8 months, but he never thought to prepare himself.

He pulled up to the driveway and before he could text him, Cyrus was already walking to his car. Everything on the inside and outside of his body burned. And he felt like throwing up. But at the same time, he wanted to kiss him hello. TJ unlocked the car and Cyrus sat inside, the tension rising above what they were used to.

“Hey, Cyrus,” TJ said, failing to sound as casual as possible.

“Thelonius,” Cyrus said. TJ couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh as he pulled out of the drive way. “How’s MSU?”

“Fun. Exhausting. College basketball was fun in theory, but it drains me. I get a math tutor for every assignment I have to do. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. You’re going to school for free to do what you love, and this is just a small part of it.”

“I guess you’re right,” TJ told Cyrus as they passed by a park they would have dates at. It looked so shady at night with its flickering lights and thin blanket of snow. “How’s California?”

“I like it there,” Cyrus said. “I’m glad I went.” TJ’s heart felt a weird pang, and he didn’t like it.

TJ whispered, “Me, too.”

“Their theatre program is great, and I get to do a lot of writing. Still don’t know if I’m more journalism or screenwriting, though.”

“Still planning on doing a script about society on mars?”

“I’m halfway done with it. I’m thinking a two hour movie? Hopefully I use it as my senior thesis.”

“Really?” TJ smiled. Cyrus had been wanting to write a script about Mars for the longest time, he was just always busy. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Teej,” Cyrus said softly. It made TJ’s heart melt and if they had still been together, he’s positive he would’ve pulled over right now and proposed to him. “So why did you volunteer?”

“Amber and I were going to do it together because we would get toys from here when we were little, but she’s mad at me right now, so yeah,” TJ said, shrugging slightly.

“Why is she mad?”

“I kept asking questions about you, and she told me to just ask you myself.”

“Which you did.”

“I did. She does not know I’m with you right now actually. I don’t think she would’ve let me leave the house if she knew I was coming to pick you up.”

“Why?” Cyrus chuckled.

“I don’t know. I think she feels the need to protect you.” Cyrus sighed, and TJ knew he rolled his eyes without looking at him.

“Everyone thinks I need protecting like in middle school. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“I know, Cyrus. You’ve always been able to.”

-

After handing out toys to over 300 kids in Shadyside, TJ and Cyrus walked out of the event, shoulders touching. TJ knew this was the most dangerous game to play, but he’s never exactly been anti-adrenaline. He wondered what Cyrus was thinking the whole night because according to a few words he said, Buffy and Andi had told him to ignore his text message completely.

“Want to go get a breakfast dinner?” TJ asked him as he unlocked the car. Out of habit, he opened the door for Cyrus who got in without saying anything.

“Take me there,” Cyrus said before shutting the door. TJ got in the car before taking off to a diner nearby. It was barely 9PM.

“Do you still have a curfew?” TJ asked him.

“Honestly,” Cyrus turned to look at him, “I have no idea. I just told my parents I’d be back without saying where or with who I was going. They haven’t texted me. Is this adulthood?”

“Probably.”

“Where are we going?”

“Jo Anne’s.”

“Wow. I haven’t been there in maybe two years?”

“Really? Me and Amber go eat there all the time when I’m down here.”

“How often do you come home?”

“At least once a month since school started. I’d come over every weekend if I could, but basketball hasn’t really let me. Maybe next semester I might. I got Fridays off, so I could just come Thursday afternoons.”

“Isn’t it a two hour drive to and from?”

“An hour and a half if you take the cuts. Less if there’s nobody else and you speed a little.”

“You’re going to get pulled over one day.”

“It’s fine,” TJ told him, grinning.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t tell you so when you’re in jail,” Cyrus looked over at him and gave him a smile. They were walking like they did when they were dating. Why did he let him go so easily? He wanted to lean over and kiss him so bad.

When they got to the diner, they sat across from each other. The waitress brought TJ a coffee and Cyrus a hot cocoa, promising that their orders would be ready in less than 20. TJ’s leg was dancing up and down while Cyrus sat calmly across from his, his hands folded on top of the table while he looked out the window.

“Why did you break up with me?” Cyrus asked quietly.

“Cyrus,” TJ whispered, feeling his heart rip in two.

“I just want to know the real reason, TJ,” Cyrus looked at him. “The real reason.”

“There is no real reason,” TJ shook his head. “Just what I told you when we broke up.”

“Was it worth it for you at least?” Cyrus asked him. TJ bit his lip and looked down at his coffee as if it would tell him how to say.

“No,” TJ looked up at him and frowned. Without thinking it twice, he confessed, “I still love you.”

 -

Part 2!! I don’t know if I want to do a really angst filled ending or just end it on part three with what I have building up. I’ll see as I write lmao. Also thank ya’ll for reading this fun little thing. Here’s the tag list! Let me know if you want to be added or removed! <3

@istillwearyourdenimjacket @moonlightrush @luna--min @tj-looked-back-kippen @fromtheparty @bambikippen @homosexualearthworm @keylla-dunspeh @marvelous-me-always @tomohisa61896 @yeeterparkerbio (its tagging you as bio not boi?? is this you) @way-too-many-fandomss

[prehistoricalcats]

Y'all Ready For Some Griz Headcanons?

I'm gonna post my normal Jellicle Queen Appreciation Post a little later on, but I have a bunch of in-depth headcanons for Griz that need to be shared, so buckle up

Warning: Long Post Ahead

She had a thing with Jenny a while when they were young, long before Munk was born. It was a very casual, off and on thing, and they weren't exclusive. In fact, they had similar tastes and would often be attracted to the same people. They would pursue crushes together, and often shared lovers with each other. They never really officially broke up, but they had been in an "off" phase for a couple years when Griz left the tribe. But even during off phases they remained close, and Jenny was heartbroken and hurt when Griz left her and the rest of the tribe behind

She's younger than she looks. The years haven't been kind to her.

She had no idea how to be a mother and the short time she was actually responsible for Munk's care when he 6-7 she did a terrible job and he ended up taking care of her more than she took care of him

Munk is her only child, Mac and Tugger have different mothers

Tugger barely had ever seen her before that night of the Ball, but he knows who she is and what she did. In his mind she's the first in a long list of people that abandoned his poor brother (a list that includes Macavity and Tarophagus), and he hated her for it.

She would sing Memory to herself as she wandered the streets alone and broken. The Jellicles occasionally saw her, but were too busy leaving before she noticed them to pay attention to her song

She knows Demeter from the streets when they were both alone and tribeless. They didn't interact much, because Demeter at the time was too afraid and too untrusting of basically everyone to seek anyone out, but occasionally they would share a fire with other homeless Cats on a cold night. Griz was also used to being mocked and tormented by this point, but familiar faces are familiar faces, and once she was familiar enough with the younger queen to be fairly certain she was mostly harmless, she started making conversation now and then when she saw her, talking about her youth and her faded glory, which is how Demeter knows so much about her

Jemima also used to be a homeless street kitten, and also heard her singing when she was very very small, but she paid attention. That's how she knows the lyrics. When Griz hears Jem singing the next line of her song it's not just the words or the fact that Jem is clearly trying to help that moves her. It's the fact that someone listened. Someone cares.

Oof I swear I have some less heavy headcanons too

Bustopher was a good friend of hers after she left the tribe. Bustopher isn't an official member of the tribe you see, and she only met him after she went away to be a star and ended up mingling with high society Cats. He didn't judge her when she faded from grace, in fact he tried to help her. But then he learned how badly Munk had fared in her care and, well he didn't exactly judge but... his disappointment was too much to bear. She just couldn't face him after that, not even when she had literally no one else to turn to

Dammit I didn't mean that to be a heavy one too

She knew Mac's mum, who was a good several years older than her, and she looked up to her like a sister. After she died she bonded with Deut in grief, which is how Munk eventually happened.

DAMMIT okay fine it's all heavy I'm just gonna embrace it

She actually got along great with Mac. It helped that she wasn't expected to take care of him. He was 5 when Griz started getting close to Deut and 8 when they finally officially became a relationship, and 10 when Munk was born. She didn't have to be his mother, she could just be his buddy, his cool aunt, maybe his babysitter occasionally (which still made her nervous, but Mac was fairly good at taking care of his own basic needs and she just had to make sure he didn't set the Junkyard on fire, or fall into the pond and drown or something)

Then suddenly there's this helpless infant that depends entirely on her, and she just panicked. She let Deut do everything and interacted with the baby as little as possible. She didn't babysit anymore. She would still sit with boys, but Mac would be the one actually looking after the baby, and after a while she just started trusting him to be the "babysitter" and would fuck off to do her own thing.

Little Mac didn't resent her at all for this. He didn't even realize he was being taken advantage off. He was just thrilled that A) he's gets to spend time with his baby brother and B) a grown up (especially a grown up he loves and respects) trusted him with this very very Important Job. (Luckily for everyone involved he was very good at his job)

Munk was only three months old when Griz swanned off.

She would visit occasionally. She'd always show up for the Jellicle Ball, but very rarely otherwise.

As soon as Munk was old enough to speak he started begging her to stay every time she came. Finally one year at the Ball when he was six (and some other really traumatic stuff not involving Griz happened leading up to this) Munk was pawing at her and clinging to her, and wouldn't let go and wouldn't stop begging her, and she finally snapped and slapped him. Everyone went quiet. She knew she'd fucked up. Finally Munk said "If you won't stay, take me with you!" She didn't know what else to do and she knew she was already being judged so she agreed. It didn't go well, as mentioned above. Deut finally came and took Munk home some time after his seventh birthday because he learned just how bad it was going. That was the last Ball Griz came to until the one we see in the show.

She knows she's on her way out. She knows this is her last chance. Not for the Jellicle Choice, it would be nice but she doesn't expect it one bit. But this is her last chance for... for everyone. For love. For acceptance. To see her old family and friends again. To see her son, and maybe reconcile with him. She does love him, she's always loved him, she just never knew what to do with him. But she's got to see him again. See Jenny, see Deut... Shame and judgement be damned, she's gonna come to the Ball tonight, and she's gonna do her damn best!

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 16)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

She waited over a month for him to return to the house.

(He will return twice more- but only twice.)

By the second morning of the fifth week of waiting, she had stuck her hand in the sack of rice which they had kept in the corner of the shack, and her hands had found only dust.

In the garden, the sunflowers had died. The persimmon trees had been barren, their branches dark and brown and twisted. Even her spider lilies, which had loved cold damp places best of all, were long since dead. Snow had covered the garden, white and desolate, smothering all life with cold comfort. The land had been stark and empty as far as the eye could see. Nothing lived there. She could have been on an alien moon a million miles away, drifting through cold and distant space.

She had not seen another human soul in weeks and she had not spoken a word since he had left. Her last words to him still hung in the air unresolved and unanswered, as if she had left a conversation abruptly, as if she was still waiting expectantly for a reply.

The last words she had spoken, weeks and weeks and weeks ago, had been "Why?"

She had not spoken since, but she had cried quietly, and her tears had been cold on her cheeks.  

It had always been that way when he left.

She had wandered absent-mindedly through their home, throughout this room which they had shared together for so many years, and her eyes had lingered on his things, distant and unseeing, still trying to piece together why she had been left behind again, like trash on the road.

His sleeping mat, pushed against hers, where he had lain, his body cold against hers. His knife, carelessly thrown aside moments before he left. A few coins. A piece of red thread.

It had not been much to remember a person by.

Was that intentional?, she had wondered bleakly.

Cold had seeped into the house through the woodwork despite the hearth she tended. It had always been hard to keep warmth from escaping, but there had been days when she had felt that she might never be warm again, and days when it had been too hard to rise from her bed roll.

The last time she had felt like this, she had collapsed on the road, thinking that it might be for the last time and a mischievous little boy with a fox's smile had found her and taken her home.

She would not be so lucky this time.

Gradually, it had become real in her mind. This was permanent. This was forever. He had abandoned her.

There could be no reconciling herself to that.

She had not been able to understand why.

They had been happy, or so she had thought, before. They had splashed at each other in the river. They had bellowed songs together, arm in arm. They had grown their garden and feasted on fruits and seen the bees bumble amongst the flowerbeds. She had run everywhere after him, and he had never run so fast that she could not keep up. He would give her a leg up so that she could reach the persimmons on the highest branches of the trees, and he had smiled his mischievous smile to see her eat from his hand. He had dangled worms in her face and then she had smeared mud on his face, he had given her a ring, a beautiful, shining ring, and she had kissed him, and as fall had come and gone, they had been happy together.

They had been happy.

(Hadn’t they?)

She had always known that he had the capacity for cruelty. She had seen him exact it on others- the poor shopkeeper, whose girlfriend had left him, the whores in town, whom he had mocked with an offhand and casual brutality. But he had never been cruel to her.

This was perhaps the cruellest he had ever been, she thought, because she had trusted him.

She had looked at him with her bright blue eyes like he hung the moon on a string, like he was the best thing in the world, and she had been shy and tender and soft. She had told him things which she had never told another living soul, about the things she thought she remembered from being alive, about papery lined hands smoothing the hair from her face, and he had looked at that tenderness (at that love, though she had not been able to bring herself to call it that at the time, even in her own head), and it had meant nothing to him.

He'd abandoned her, and he hadn’t even left her the money to buy food.

The day the rice ran out, she had prodded at the fire, and she had made a decision.

For the first time in weeks, determination had burned in her eyes.

Someone had owed her a favour, and it was time to collect.

---

She had hated the grim, dusty expanse of the road, but she loathed it further still when it was covered with snow. They had been too poor to afford boots, and so the snow had bitten at her feet until they were numb and blue. But she had not been able to bring herself to care. She had shivered in her thin greying haori, her legs bare from the knee down, and hunger had grasped at her belly, but she had dug deep and pushed herself beyond it, clenching her jaw ferociously.

The first time she had walked to town with him after deciding to live with him, she had hesitated at the vast, open sky which had towered over her, and she had trembled where she had stood. It had only been the sight of his back fading into the distance, leaving her behind, which had compelled her to walk.

He'd had a month's head start, but she had known that he was out there somewhere on this road walking too, and the thought had filled her heart with fire.

And so she had walked.

He'd had to carry her the last mile of the journey, the first time. This time, she had gritted her teeth, and carried herself on her own two feet.

It had been dark in town by the time she had arrived, though there had been no cloud cover. She had suffered that in the last hour of her trek, with her breath misting in front of her face like a shroud, and her hands stinging as the temperature had begun to drop. Her feet had slipped in her sandals where the snow had melted when it came into contact with her bare feet, and she had stumbled and slipped because of it.

But she had been fortunate; no one had seen her as she trudged through the greying sludge and frozen mud. It was dangerous, even for a girl like her who possessed a strong, bright spiritual power, to travel through town alone. And she had been especially wary, knowing that her spiritual power could not always be relied upon. It had always been fractious and volatile, and especially so whenever she was upset. She had never known whether Gin had managed to make that leap. She had always been at her weakest when he had left her.

The town had been deathly quiet these past few months, with fear of whatever it was that lurked in the woods preying upon townsfolk keeping everyone sullen and silent, lest they be the next one to get themselves spirited off. Ordinarily, Rangiku too would have quailed with fear of ghosts and monsters, but at the time, she'd had more pressing worries on her mind.

She would have been lost even had it been day time. She had always relied on Gin to navigate them around the twisting, narrow alleyways of the town, and at night, with all its strange, malicious shadows and eerie, shuffling denizens, she hadn't stood a chance. Her heart had started to beat quickly, and panic had begun to bubble in her chest. She hadn't known where she was, hadn't known where she was headed. All of a sudden, it had seemed deeply foolish to have left the safety of home, even with starvation lurking on the horizon. She realised then, with a sinking feeling that edged on nausea, that she had no way of finding who she had been looking for, and tears had begun to prick at her eyes.

She had let herself fall bodily against a wall in despair, and had stared up at the brightening stars, aware of the way the cold cut through her clothes and her body shivered.

Her finger tips had turned blue.

Is this it?, she had thought bleakly. Was it all just a joke? Was it all just a dream? Has there ever been anything beautiful in this rotting world?

Her eyes had fluttered closed with exhaustion, and her vision had started to turn and black at the edges. She had let herself float there, miserable and alone and longing for an end to it all.

She had herself retreat into that place inside her then, a place of light and energy, where her powers lay, which had never before been so easy to access.

A strange warmth had rushed through her then, like she was meeting again with a friend she had known forever and not seen in a very long time. It had been a kind feeling, a welcoming feeling, like a cat rubbing up against her and butting up against her face with its head. Don't you dare give up, it had seemed to say. I'm here, just waiting for you.

No, she had wanted to growl. There is more. Beauty exists. Kindness exists. I’m going to find it again even if it kills me.

She had bared her teeth, and had pulled herself up from her slump.

She had stumbled and she had fallen more than once, but she had eventually found herself at the town's bar in her determination, her hair plastered by the cold snow to her face.

And there she had been, warming her fingers by the fire and nursing a bottle of the town's foulest and most virulent home-brewed rice spirit.

She could have collapsed with relief.

"Kanae-san," she had croaked. The woman had not risen to help her, and her eyes had narrowed in consternation at the sight of her. She had paused a while, scrutinising her, and with a sigh, she had slid along the wooden bench to make room for her.

Rangiku had taken a seat gratefully. Having walked almost ten miles through the snow and the freezing wind without having eaten, she had been barely able to keep herself upright.

For the first time in Rangiku's memory, Kanae's hostile glare, which she had never seen the woman without, had been absent. The look she had worn had been no softer however- it had been a pensive look, an expression which spoke of finality, of endings.

"So he's gone then? The boy?" Kanae had asked her, her narrowed eyes scanning Rangiku's face.

Something in Rangiku had crumpled in on itself. It was one thing to know something privately, in your own mind and in your own heart, but to bring it into the world and make it real by telling someone else, to expose your own wounds for someone else to see, was a far more difficult thing by far. She had nodded mutely and had trembled.

Kanae had looked into the distance, and something had tightened in her expression, though Rangiku had been too exhausted to be able to parse what it meant.

Kanae had sighed again then, and it had been a small thing, a regretful thing. "I told ya'," she had said quietly, with a sidelong glance at the exhausted, broken girl beside her. "I told ya', and ya' stayed anyway."

Rangiku had sat slumped on the bench, and had looked up at the ceiling, her eyes beginning to brim with unshed tears again. She had thought Don't fall, don't fall. I've cried enough.

"I-" she started, and her voice, thin and young and soft, had broken. "I never actually thought he would leave me. Not really."

Kanae's voice, though brusque, had not been unkind. "Then ya' were a fool," she had informed her quietly. "They always leave in the end. Or they don't come with ya'. It's all the same in the end.” She paused to take a long swig of her sake. “Ya' got any plans?"

"None," Rangiku had confessed with a fragile, desperate laugh.

"I saw ya' two brats often enough with ya' rice. Ya' have it, don't ya'?" Kanae's eyes had searched her own. "The power?"

"Yeah," Rangiku had confirmed shakily. "I'm strong. It's strong in me."

Kanae's expression had twisted then. "Don't speak of it like it’s a gift, brat," she had hissed. "It's a curse. Ya' hear me? A curse. That hunger will make you degrade yourself in a thousand different ways if it means a bowl of rice at the end of it."

Rangiku had had enough. She had walked all day through the snow. The cold had sunk into her bones. She had gotten lost and she had been terrified every minute she had been in town alone. She had been tired. "Speaking from experience, Kanae-san?" she had said bitingly, her eyes flashing.

Kanae's lip had curled, and but something in her eyes had lit in satisfaction. "Yes," she had said. "Yes I am. What are ya' going to do now that you don't have the boy to get ya' rice?"

Rangiku had sunk further down the bench sullenly, and quiet had reigned for several moments. The fire had spat in the grate in front of them, and Rangiku had watched intently, loathing all of a sudden her dependence on the woman who sat beside her.

"Why are ya' here, brat?" Kanae had asked, swilling the spirits in her cup.

Rangiku had gritted her teeth at first, and then had exhaled, and inhaled again deeply, the sort of inhalation which filled the lungs and girded the heart for pain and uncertainty.

"Once upon a time," she had said, giving Kanae her own sidelong glance, "one spring day, long ago, I found myself sitting outside the grocery shop, the only grocery shop in town. Gin-" Kanae's eyes had narrowed at the mention of his name- "Gin had pissed off the shopkeeper, because of course he had- he never met a person he couldn’t piss off- and so to punish him, he said that only one child was allowed in his shop at a time because we couldn't be trusted not to steal." Rangiku had paused, caught up in the memory. "Joke was on him, because his food was so crap that there would have been nothing worth stealing. That shop was an extortion racket, Gin always said. We grow-" she had caught herself, "-grew better stuff in the garden anyway."

Kanae's face had been impassive, and her eyes like steel.

"So there I was, that spring day. It had been my first day in town actually. I had been terrified the whole day, and it had felt like all the men's eyes were on me, roaming over my legs and over my chest, undressing me where I stood. But you know how that feels, don't you? I don't need to tell you about that. Not you. He held my hand the entire time, you know? It hurt, he held it so tightly. I had little crescent moon bruises on my fingers. But it would have hurt more had he never held it in the first place.” Rangiku’s expression tightened painfully. “When someone grabbed at my hair, he drew his knife, and they backed off. We changed his yukata for another one at the pawn shop, and it was so long on him that he had to hold the hem in one hand. He looked ridiculous. We went to buy bone broth. We walked hand in hand the whole day, and then, when he left me, you saw me sitting outside the shop that day, and you said something to me."

Kanae had been stock still, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.

"You said he was dangerous," Rangiku had said quietly. "I couldn’t believe it. Not then, not now, and not ever, I think. Maybe it’s true, and maybe you’re right. I don’t know. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to think that.” She absent-mindedly twisted the ring on her finger. “You said a whole load of creepy stuff, which I didn't believe at the time, and I barely believe now, and you said 'One favour.'" She had paused, and she had leaned over the bench and had looked Kanae straight in the eye with her own bright, desperate eyes, so much like forget me nots. "’One favour’," she had repeated. "I could do with a favour right now, Kanae-san. Help me."

The silence had stretched on for several, fraught moments before Kanae's face had taken on an odd, ugly look.

"Alright," she had said, weighing her up. "Alright. Never make promises ya' not willing ta' keep, brat. That's my first favour ta' ya'. You get that one for free." She had paused. "What do ya' want from me?"

Rangiku had been thrown, not expecting such an open-ended question. "What do I want?" she had echoed in confusion. "I don't know what I want."

"Then we might as well end this right here and send ya' packin' right back home.” Kanae had hissed. “I'm not here ta' sort ya' life out for ya'. I'm not ya' mother. Fuckin' 'Help me.' Step up and take some fuckin' responsibility for ya'self for once in ya' fuckin' life." She had gotten to her feet, as if motioning to leave.

"Wait!" Rangiku had cried. "Wait!"

Kanae had paused, and turned to look at her with loathing in her eyes.

"What? Do ya' want to stay here? Do ya' want to leave? Do ya' want ta' follow the boy out of here? What do ya' want from me?"

"I want-" In truth, Rangiku had wanted many things, but mostly she had wanted the whole sorry month never to have happened, for Gin never to have left, for the two of them to be abed and sleeping, huddled with the other against the bitterness of the winter winds. But she had known that there was no use for wishing, not in a town like this. She had taken a breath. "What I need-" Kanae had nodded in something resembling approval "-What I need, right now, is food."

"And what ya' need for food is work."

"Right. So I guess what I need... is a job?"

"Not so stupid after all," Kanae had mocked viciously.

Rangiku had ignored her. "Where can I get a job, Kanae-san?"

Kanae had gestured around. "Ain't many jobs here for a beautiful girl except the oldest one in the book." She had given her an inscrutable look. "Don't think the boy would like to know that ya' had to resort to that."

Rangiku's heart had sank, and something had curdled low in her stomach with dread. Weariness from the long walk had set in, and the cold had settled into her bones.

"I don't want to do that."

Kanae had laughed a hollow laugh. "You stop carin' after the tenth, the twentieth, the hundredth. Food is food and money is money."

There had been a beat of silence. Rangiku had given her a deep, soul-searching look.

"I don't think even you believe that. Not really," she had said quietly.

There had been a long pause, during which Kanae had avoided her eyes. When she had finally spoken again, she had continued as if Rangiku hadn't said a word at all.

"I can get ya' an interview, I think," she had said suddenly. "But ya' going ta' have to do the rest on ya' own."

"Doing what?" Rangiku had asked curiously.

"Does it matter?" Kanae had said irritably. "Like I said, money is money and food is food."

"Will it be far away?"

"Fourteenth district, West.” She had paused. “Ya' can still see the shadow cast by the walls of Seireitei when the sun is low in the sky in the mornin' and the starlin’s are flyin’ overhead."

There had been something wistful in Kanae’s words, and Rangiku had noticed it at once. She had been immediately intrigued, attracted like a moth to the flame by the thought of eking out something of the whore’s mysterious past. Heartened by the prospect of getting her life sorted out, she had found curiosity nudging at her

“I didn’t know that you had been as close to where the shinigami live as Fourteenth, Kanae-san,” Rangiku had said in wonder. “When did you live there?”

“Who said I lived there?” Kanae had spat, turning on her immediately. “Ya’ don’t get to ask me questions. I said I’d do ya’ a favour, not tell ya’ my life story. And I’m tellin’ ya’, brat, I’m livin’ to regret whatever madness possessed me. ”

Rangiku’s face had fallen, and she had bitten her lip. She had stared up at Kanae with her large eyes, and Kanae had avoided them. The whore had taken a shuddering breath then, had tilted her head back, and had slowly closed her eyes.

“It was a long time ago. It was… Not a bad place. For me. For a time.”

(Years later, Rangiku would remember her words, and the brittle kindness of this woman who had nothing, this woman without whom she would likely have never made it to Seireitei. She would imagine her looking back at the Floating Moon, lost and alone with a baby in her belly, an uncertain future looming over her head like a sword. On nights like those, she would pour out a cup of sake for the woman and take it in one shot, its fire burning her throat, and she would send thanks to whatever gods still listened that she had ever been fortunate enough to meet Kanae.)

She had sighed, and it had been a small, weak thing. “When ya’ get there, ya’ ask for Fujisawa Yuki. Tell her…” She had trailed off. “Tell her that if Kanae ever meant anything to her, she’d make sure that ya’ got a job.” She had paused. “And ya’ best give her this, just to be sure. I don’t need it anymore.” She had slipped off the fraying string bracelet she kept on her wrist, seized Rangiku’s hand, and had slid it on to hers. Her hands had been cold, despite the fire, and her hands had had a vice-like grip. “Lose this, and I’ll kill ya’. I swear it.”

Rangiku had been silent whilst she contemplated the band on her wrist. She had toyed with it, twisting it between her fingers idly. “Who’s Yuki?” she had asked curiously.

Kanae’s expression had twisted. “What did I say about questions?”

“Kanae-san, how am I even going to know which one Yuki is if you won’t tell me anything?” Rangiku had gritted out in frustration.

Even Kanae had not been able to argue with that, though her features had arranged themselves into her perpetual sneer. “Just knock and ask,” she had said, as if Rangiku was a simpleton. “Go after lunch hours, but before the sun sets. They’ll be getting’ ready then.”

“Is that it? Is that everything?” Rangiku had asked, confused.

“What more can a whore give ya’?”

“They’ll give me a job? Just like that?”

“If ya’ clever and play ya’ cards right, then yeah. Yeah, they should.”

Rangiku had blinked, the fire shining in her eyes. She had looked at the woman in front of her, struck suddenly by the weight of the favour that the woman was doing her.

For her entire life to that point, it had been Rangiku, alone, and then Rangiku and Gin. Her world had been a small thing, a private world of two, and she had never thought that she might find any help from beyond its limits.

She was overcome, suddenly, by the fact that someone might go out of their way to help her, and a wave of emotion had rushed over her. She had stared, for several moments, and Kanae had frowned in discomfort, and jutted her jaw out distrustfully.

“What?” she had snapped.

Rangiku had grabbed her hand, and the woman had flinched.

Rangiku had not known then the violence done to the women who solicited on the streets, who were not fortunate enough to have someone watch their backs and fight off violent customers, as she would do for the women of the Floating Moon. That lesson was still to come. But she had taken the woman’s hand anyway, and had looked up at her with gratitude.

Her eyes had met Kanae’s, and for the first time, Rangiku had seen unease in them, an uncertain vulnerability.

“Thank you,” Rangiku had said simply; sincerely.

Kanae had looked at her with incomprehension, and snatched her hand away as if it had been burnt; she had looked wary, wary and troubled, as if she had longed to escape.

“Yeah, well, I said it, didn’t I? That ‘one favour’.”

It had been pure and more honest than anything Rangiku had ever heard her say.

“Why did you offer to help me, Kanae-san?”

Rangiku had known that Kanae hated prying, and yet she had not been able to stop herself from asking. She could count with one finger the number of people who had ever helped her. To have that number doubled suddenly in the course of an hour had been earth-shattering, and she had wanted to know why it was that Kanae had been moved to take pity on her, when so few had ever done so before.

Kanae had risen then. As she had stood, the light of the fire had caught in her hair, and played about in the its black strands. She had seen the silver in her hair, and she had thought Kanae is growing old; it happens to everyone.

It had not made sense to Rangiku until over two years later, and when it had, it had been like divine revelation.

It had only been with her back facing her as she moved to leave that she had answered.

Her voice had been small. She had never heard this woman, a woman made of fire and venom, talk in that way, and she never would again.

“I owed him one.”

She would never see Kanae again.

---

When she had finally made it home, she had looked around the empty shack and her heart had clenched painfully in her breast.

He had not been there, but that did not mean that the house had been empty. It had been filled with the memory of him, with a thousand different days and nights they had shared with each other, a thousand days and nights and memories.

In the plainest terms, it had just been a house, a rundown wreck with four walls, walls which had had gaps that the rain and the snow fell through. It had been a wooden door which creaked and needed a forceful shove to open and which had never once closed properly the entire time she had lived there. It had been two sleeping mats, pressed seam to seam together, where two sleeping children had lain once upon a time, and that was all.

But this was where she had learnt to smile.

Over there, on his sleeping mat, she had opened her eyes for the first time on the first evening, after he had carried her in his thin arms away from the dusty road where he had found her, after he had scooped her out of danger, after he had saved her.

He had put a cold, smooth hand on her forehead, and the first thing she had seen when her eyes had flickered open had been the silver of his hair as he had inclined his head to hers. Her body had been leaden and painful with bruises and she had not been able to move.

He had cooked for her, and she had drifted in and out of consciousness. She had stolen his blanket, and he had lain by her side the whole night long, watching after her with care. She had awoken screaming, but he, this boy, this stranger, this person who had owed her nothing, had placed his hands against her shoulders and had told her that everything was going to be alright.

When she had awoken that first evening, he had teased her. He had taken the first words that she had ever said to him, "Gin... What a weird name..." and had turned them back on her. He had called her name weird. And despite the battery and the bruises, the pain and the fear, a smile had tugged at her lips.

It had been her first smile in a very long time, and it had been for him.

Over there, by the hearth, he had pricked her with his needle because she had been fidgeting whilst he sewed her yukata up. He had drawn blood, and he had been intensely angry- not at her, but at himself. She had turned to him in the firelight, and had smiled gently at him, to soothe his anger, and he had smoothed away with the blood on her skin with the brush of his thumb. He had scratched at his head and made excuses for not sewing her clothes earlier. He had lied a boldfaced lie, and said "I thought ya' were makin' a fashion statement," and she had fumed at him.

By the door, they had stood once upon a time, clutching each other for balance, hand in hand and breathless as the heavens had split apart and the rain had pelted the garden. It had been a day of dark fertile earth and laughter and shrieks of pretend outrage.

As they had stood pressed against each other, his hair plastered to his vulpine face with water and hers a mess of tangled gold, she had felt a second beat in her chest, a ghostly after echo, and she trembled in the knowledge that it was his heart, his heart beating in her chest, which he had given to her to put with her own for safekeeping.

They had been seamless and perfect, two things made into one, gold and silver, bright and dark, girl and boy, and she had wished for it always to be so, for the two of them to stand there for the rest of time, or to otherwise die because she had been certain that she would never again be happier than she was at that moment.

"The fox is getting married," she had told him breathlessly, and his eyes had opened ever so slightly, sharp and bright and beautiful. She had been overcome all at once, suddenly shy, and she had moved the topic on quickly in a bid to distract him from her own frantic heart, which had beat so hard that she had no longer been sure that it was still in her chest.

(It had been in his, though neither had known it yet.)

On the far side of the room, once upon a time, he had knelt on the floor and she had made him close his eyes. She had summoned up every inch of courage in her small body, and she had kissed him. Her body had thrummed with nervous energy, and he had been struck dumb, but afterwards, he had lain dazed on the floor, an incredulous grin stretched over his face.

All these scenes had played before her eyes as she had prepared herself to leave the house, the house which they had shared and which had seen so many of her smiles, for the last time.

She had not known even then whether she was leaving to follow him or whether she was leaving to make something of herself on her own, and even two years later, she still didn’t know. The thought that he had been out there, in the world, alive and smiling and so much himself had filled her half with agony, half with delight, and she had been torn. Would it be worse, she had wondered, to never see him again or to have him look at her in disgust?

She hadn’t known. She still didn’t.

She had packed up all her possessions in one of the blankets. It had not amounted to much- the bowl, from which they had always eaten together, the pot in which they had boiled water, the clothes on her back, and the ring on her finger.

She had sat and looked a while, preparing herself to finally draw a line under this chapter in her life- the first she had ever truly lived, with all its beauty and its sunshine and its warmth.

She could have hated him for leaving, but she would always love him for this. Ghosts of memories had played before her eyes.

And then she had left.

She had made it no more than fifteen steps from the door, past the spider lilies buried in the snow, before she had turned on her heel and ran back.

There had been ashes in the hearth. Wildly, she had torn the empty rice sack down the seams and had turned it inside out. She had taken a handful of snow, and the bite of the cold had barely registered in the ferocity of her concentration. She had thrown it into the ashes, and with a stick, she had mixed water and ash until it resembled a thick, black paste.

And with her stick, she had begun to write.

When she had finished, she had stood, biting at her lip fiercely, her eyes bright. She had picked up her possessions, walked to the door, and paused. And then she had left, her blanket made into an impromptu bag, clanging as it banged against her back.

She had not looked back a second time.

---

He flipped the sack over desperately, hoping against all likelihood that there was something written on the other side. There was nothing- just the stamp of the rice grower. He flipped the thing over again in frustration to reread it. It was such a short letter that it didn’t take long.

She had signed her letter with her full name, despite their closeness (their former closeness now? He could not say, and the thought unsettled him slightly.)

There was something funny about that- as if she had remembered in a rush that letters were supposed to have formal signoffs and had tried to achieve the lofty register despite the fact that she must have known he wouldn’t care- but try as he might, his smile was curiously hard to find

Gin, the letter read, I don’t know whether you will ever see this, because I don’t think you’ll be coming back this time, but I’m leaving. It’s still snowing.

It’s been five weeks since you left.

I’m sorry if I did anything to make you leave. I’m not angry that you left. Not all of the time, anyway. I’m just sorry that you felt like you had to.

you’re a bastard and i hope you’re miserable at shinigami school. You deserve it, you foxfaced jerk. I’ve been miserable without you. It’s hard to sleep without you. The nightmares are always worse when you’re gone. Why did you leave? you bastard

I don’t know whether I will ever see you again. Does that make you feel as sad as it makes me feel?

I thought, if I never saw you again, that I wanted you to know that I wanted to tell you something. I couldn’t tell you when you left, because you were there and gone too quickly and I never got to say it to you.

The thing I wanted to say to you is this: thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the home you gave me. Thank you for the food you gave me. Thank you for the garden and the flowers and the good times. Thank you for saving me.

Thank you for being my first and only friend, Ichimaru Gin.

Matsumoto Rangiku

A year later, Ichimaru Gin looked into the distance, his mouth a tight line. A wazikashi hung loosely at his hip.

He watched as if he could see her back retreating into the distance, and he felt a bitter irony, a mocking hatred, to be on the receiving end for once.

She was gone. She’d left almost a year ago.

She had not waited around for him.

Unbidden, a soft smile crossed his face, and he turned to face the bright, cold sun that was shining through the cracks in the heavy, iron-grey clouds. Its light played in his hair, and he exhaled softly.

She was gone. She had clawed her way out of the deep depths of their poverty, and had found the will to leave on her own two feet, by herself. The thought filled him with a strange, gentle joy, and a look of determination crossed his face. Deep down, stirring in his soul, he felt a small, strong pride. Good for her, he thought softly. Good for her.

He could imagine her- teeth gritted in determination, eyes bright, hair a beautiful tangle about her shoulders.

He could not help but feel an echo of that same determination play about his own face.

This action, this decision, it was all her.

When fear and indecision had paralysed her, the sight of him moving on had always provoked her into moving on her own. It had been so the first time they had walked into town together. It was the same now.

It must have been hard for her, he thought, but she’d done it. He could feel proud of her, for that.

He looked out, the sack the letter was written on clenched tightly in his fist and his eyes narrowed in the pale light.

Where are ya’?, he asked the world. What are ya’ doin’? Are ya’ safe, and well, and happy? How will I find ya’? How are we goin’ ta’ meet again, Rangiku?

They would meet again.

He was certain of it. He had known, deep down, even as he was leaving her, that it could not be for long.

They could no more be apart than the day and the night, the moon and the sun; they were too wrapped up in one another, him and her, their souls and destinies intertwined in some deep, unfathomable way which sent him spiralling. That they would see each other again had felt like an inevitability.

(He was right, though he had not understood it at the time.

The sun rose in the sky, and as it did, the night receded. The day shone and the morning chorus sounded, and as it did, the velvet hush of the night fell. Each was conditional upon the other, and they were part of the same thing, the grand, immortal rhythm by which the universe was bound. But the day and the night could never occupy the same time and the same place, and the sun and moon never touched except when one eclipsed the other.

Always, always, they would be bound in the same old cycle, doomed to chase each other forever and doomed never to touch.)

It was just a matter of time.

He took one last lingering look at the last place where he knew she had last lain months before. He wished that the space still spoke of her presence, that there was something of the sparkle of her eyes and the dismal braying of her singing and the chaotic, good-natured chatter which spilled out of her as she had talked to him, but there was nothing- only dust, cobwebs and the memory of the girl.

There was nothing here but the absence of her.

Conventionally, it would have been a long, wearisome journey back to Seireitei; it wasn’t for him, not anymore.

He lingered for a moment, and when he was done, he turned on his heel. His shihakusho billowed about him in a stream of black, he flickered in the air, and in an instant, he was gone.

The wooden boards which made up the walls of the house creaked. Outside, it began to snow.

---

(When he passes through that door for the next and final time, he will be dead.)

---

[winchestergirl23]

Dinner with the Boyfriend

Pairings: Sam x sister, Dean x sister

Word Count: 2k

Summary: The boys insist on having your boyfriend over for dinner.

A/N: This is kind of a part 2 to Uh-Oh. You can read it here. This can also be read as a stand-alone. Also, I don’t own any of the gifs - credits to whoever made them. Thank you guys for all the love shown so far. You really keep me going.

Link to Part 3 : Hickey.

You nervously run a hand through your hair and straighten your shirt in front of the mirror. The day you’ve been dreading is finally here. You had been trying to avoid this from happening for over a month. But you’d known it would happen eventually. You’re brothers weren’t ones to give up easily.

You had been dating someone for the past few months. Last month, your oldest brother, Dean had found out about it. As you’d suspected, he was not pleased. However, after heated exchanges that involved tears and slammed doors followed by deep conversations with you and Sam, he’d finally accepted that you were old enough to date. But this was a very difficult thing for him to come to terms with. Every time you went on a date, he’d have a ton of questions which you would patiently answer followed by many safety instructions and finally a grudging “Fine! You can go now. Be home by 8.” One would think you’re going to fight dragons or something. Not the supernatural kind but the Harry Potter kind. You’d think Dean would stop there. But no! He had been constantly pestering you to invite your boyfriend, Daniel for dinner which you knew was only an excuse for an interrogation. You knew he’d end up grilling Daniel so hard that he’d probably think you weren’t worth the effort and run as far away from you as possible. Unfortunately for you, Sam was with Dean on this one. He’d been very understanding about the whole dating thing and had supported you throughout but he too, felt that it was time for him and Dean to meet Daniel properly.

After a month of making excuses and evading dinner plans, you’d finally given in. Not just because you had started to run out of excuses but also because Dean had started to become increasing grouchy each time you said no and had suggested inviting Daniel himself next time the he came to take you out on a date. So you’d picked a date and convinced Daniel to come home for dinner, not before warning him that your brothers might act a little over protective and that they’d only mean well. You had no idea how you’d get through a dinner involving Dean and your boyfriend. The very thought of it gave you the chills.  

Taking a deep breath, you walk up to the hall where dinner is being set up. You had earlier helped Dean cook while Sam had gone to great lengths to cover up anything that was ‘supernatural’ related. He’d covered up some of the book shelves, covered up any sigils in plain sight and had tried put away all knives and guns including the gun Dean carried, much to your oldest brother’s annoyance.

“What if he’s possessed? Or what if he’s a shifter?”

“Dean, it’s going to be fine. He’s not going to be a monster. You don’t have to carry the gun on you.”

“Yeah well, I’m not willing to take that chance.”

“Dean. Come on! Just give me the gun. You’ll have an angel sword in your jacket anyway.”

They’d bickered over this for some time. Finally, grudgingly Dean had given up the gun. You couldn’t help heave a sigh of relief at this. At least now you could be sure that threatening your boyfriend with a gun would be one of Dean’s plans that wouldn’t actually happen; At least, not tonight. You’d mouthed a silent thank you to Sam who’d nodded at you. He’d done his best at preparing Dean for the dinner; making him promise not to freak your boyfriend out with threats and awkward questions. You had done your best to keep Dean on his happy side the entire week–baking pie at every chance you got, not objecting to his loud music in the impala and even begging Sam to do the same.

You check your watch for what feels like hundredth time, trying to ignore the knots forming in your stomach. You’d gone over all possible scenarios in your head and this had only made you more anxious. You tap your foot nervously as you wait for Daniel to arrive. Your eyes move from Sam who’s calmly sitting at the table to Dean, who’s sipping beer silently, mouth set in a straight line.  You check your watch again when the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” you say, swiftly walking towards the stairs as Dean gets up.

You pause, turn back and whisper with pleading eyes. “Dean. Pleaseee be nice okay?”

He rolls his eyes at you. You stand there, crossing your arms, looking at him sternly.

“Fine. I’ll ‘be nice’” he mocks, imitating you at the last bit, shaking his head at you. “Now go open the door.”

You walk up the stairs and open the bunker door.

“Hey Dan, come in!” you greet, smiling at your boyfriend.

You awkwardly hug him, turning you face the other way when he leans in to give you a kiss. A gesture you’re sure Dean’s eyes wouldn’t have missed.

“You must be David.” Dean greets as you walk down the stairs, “Come on in.”

You frown at Dean from behind your boyfriend as see Sam shakes his head.

“It’s Daniel sir and actually we’ve met before at the café once.” Daniel says calmly, extending a hand towards Dean.

You groan internally and glower at Dean as he ignores Daniel’s hand. Sam rushes in and shakes his hand, trying to dissipate the awkwardness.

“I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.” He smiles, leading your boyfriend towards the dinner table.

“Your house is amazing!” you hear Daniel say. “I mean, Y/N had told me that it’s a family home that’s been passed on from generations but I had no idea it would be this… cool!” he finishes, looking around the bunker with awe.  

You stand back as they walk towards the hall, pulling Dean’s hand as he starts to follow. You can hear Daniel and Sam conversing about the bunker.  Dean turns with a questioning look.

“Wha-”

“Dee, you promised me you’d be understanding. You promised Sam you’d be nice. I know you want to be intimidating but can you please, pleaseee at least try to be nice?”  you beg, not letting go of Dean’s hand.

He scowls at you and then sighs, “Fine! I’ll treat your boyfriend nicer.”

“Dee-” you start at his half-hearted statement.

“I mean it. I’ll be nice.” he assures.

“Hey, what are you two doing over there?” Sam calls out, noticing that you haven’t joined them.

You walk over to the table and sit beside Daniel, giving him a comforting smile. Dinner goes smoother than you expected. Dean keeps his word, trying to be nicer as he asks your boyfriend about his life and plans after school. Sam keeps the mood light, talking to him like a friend. However, it doesn’t escape your notice that your older brothers are subtly throwing in comments that indicate how over- protective they are of you.  Daniel takes your hand, under the table as you finish up dessert, discussing funny anecdotes from school.

“Y/N/N why don’t you get Daniel some of the pie you made?” Dean suggests innocuously. However, the tone of his voice is a clear indication that it wasn’t a question.

You narrow your eyes at Dean. He doesn’t even like sharing his pie with you and Sam and now he wants you to get it for your boyfriend?

“Uhh… ” you start, knowing something’s up. You feel Daniel tense beside you as the air around the table changes. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Here, I’ll help you” Sam says, standing up and clearing the dishes. You shoot your boyfriend an apologetic look as you follow Sam into the kitchen with the dishes, leaving him with Dean, who has a smug smile on his face.

You drop the plates into the sink and quickly cut out slices of pie, ready to head back to the hall when Sam puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N… Wait! Let’s finish the dishes before heading back.” He says, casually.

“I promise I’ll do the dishes after Dan leaves okay?” you say, moving toward the kitchen door.

“How about we finish it now instead? Come on. I’ll wash the plates, you can dry them.” he says, forcefully taking the plates of pie from you and steering you toward the sink.  Again, his tone indicating that you don’t have a say in this.

“Sam. Why are you stalling?” you ask, frowning at him.

“I’m not stalling.” he responds, starting on the dishes.

“Sammyyyy!” you groan.

“Look, Dean’s just talking to him, man-to-man okay? Nothing you have to worry about.”

“You can’t be serious! Dean’s going to threaten him and you know it. He’s been waiting to do this all night.” You plead with Sam.

“I’ve already spoken to Dean okay? He’s worried about you getting hurt. He just wants to speak to Dan for a bit. Don’t worry. It’s nothing. I’ve told him to be nice.” Sam says. “Now, help me, come on.”

“I’ll feel a lot better if you were out there too.” You say, solemnly. You don’t like the idea of Dean talking to Daniel alone.

“You promise to stay here for a bit?” Sam asks.

“Yes. I’ll actually do the dishes.” You stress.

“Alright. 5- 10 minutes okay?”  Sam says sternly.

You finish the dishes as fast as you can when Sam leaves the kitchen. Finally, you head back to the table, praying that Dean hasn’t gone overboard with the over-protectiveness.

“Where’s the pie?” Dean asks, making a face as you return. You’ve left the plates of pie in the kitchen in your rush to get back here.

“Actually, it’s getting late so I think I’ll leave.” Daniel says, standing up. He looks a little pale.

Your eyes dart from him to Dean, who shrugs nonchalantly, to Sam, who gives you a reassuring nod.

“I’ll walk you out.” you say, taking his hand, throwing Dean a dirty look.

“It was nice meeting you Daniel” Sam says, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You too sir. Thank you for the dinner. It was really good.” He responds, nodding at Dean too.

You walk him out the bunker door, closing it behind you.

“Listen Dan, whatever Dee said to you…. I’m really sorry okay? They get a bit over-protective at times.” you say, nervously.

“A bit huh?” he chuckles anxiously. “It was a little more than a bit but don’t worry, it’s nothing babe.”

“They just told me how much you mean to them and what the consequences of hurting you might be” he says, swallowing tensely. “But don’t worry! I don’t plan on hurting you so it’s all chill.” He smiles, though he still looks kind of spooked.

“Thank you for understanding.” You smile.

He pulls you in for a kiss. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow for school okay?” he says.

“Bye Dan” you say, kissing him again.

You walk back into the bunker smiling to yourself. Tonight’s dinner wasn’t so bad. Dean’s sitting with his feet on the table, eating pie from the pan. There are three empty plates on the table. He grins at you with a mouth full of pie. “I left you a slice” he says, in response to your raised eyebrows.

You wrinkle your nose at him, “You can finish it.”

“Dee… about what happened during dinner…” you start.

“Listen kiddo, I know I’m not the biggest fan of you dating him. He seems like a good kid and I’m trying to be cool about you and him going out. However, you are my baby sister and I don’t want you getting hurt. So I just told him what would happen if he hurt you. I don’t regret doing that and neither does Sam. As your older brothers, there are just some things we have to do. I’m not going to apologize for caring about you.” He states, with a shrug.  

“Okay” you say, frowning a little. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t threaten him with your gun.”

“I still haven’t ruled that out.” he says, in a matter-of-a-fact manner.

“He’s not going to do that kiddo. You have my word.” Sam says, throwing his bitch face at Dean, looking at your alarmed expression. Dean shrugs and starts to laugh.

“I think I’ll turn in now. Good night Dee. Good night Sammy” you say, leaning to kiss your brothers on the cheek.

“Goodnight darling.”

“Sleep well sweetheart!”

Tags: @thetallassgirl hope you don’t mind. Because you requested for a part 2!

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

What Does Being An Idol Got To Do With It?! (Jungkook x You ONESHOT)

MASTERLIST

A/N: I am currenbtly busy working on the amazing requests that I’ve been receiving . So for now  Im just gonna post this fic that I have written a few months back.I feel like this is just trash :( I dont know what I’m doing. Forgive me 😭

Summary: “I’m not just an idol Y/N. I am also just a man. A man who’s desperately in love with you,”

Jeon Jungkook has just been slapped across the face.

Hard.

At a fan meeting.

By a fan.

And the said fan is looking at him, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open. Jungkook held his left cheek, still red and stinging from the hard slap. The whole auditorium turns quiet. Even the other members are shocked by what had just happened. They have been doing this for six years and this is the first time any one of them have ever been slapped by a fan.

“Oh. My. God,” you stuttered. “I..I…I am so sorry. I..I.. saw a bee and it almost stings your face and I just wanted to hit it away and I totally forgot about your face and I…I… I’m sorry Jingkook,” you keep on rambling non stop. Panic is overwhelming your senses.

“It’s Jungkook. With a U,” Jungkook calmly replied back, his mouth is starting to turn upwards into a smile.  You slapped a hand on your forehead. Shit, you slapped the boy and you cant even pronounce his name right.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You hide your face behind your hair, highly aware of all the other fans shooting daggers at you. If looks could kill, you would be dead a million time over. This is exactly why you shouldnt have gone to a fan meeting at this age.

Jungkook wanted to say its okay but before he can say anything, a girl besides you, who is in front of Taehyung, and who Jungkook assumed is your friend, pulled you by your collar and dragged you away, hissing in your ear. You look at Jungkook one last time, sending him an apologetic look and without realizing it, Jungkook smile to himself.

/////

“Oh My God Y/N! I cant believe you did that!” your friend hissed in anger after she dragged you out from the auditorium. “You slapped Jungkook across the face! The Jeon Jungkook! God, you are going to be hated by ARMYs worldwide now,”

You hung your head low. You know you screwed up and there is nothing you can say to make you friend hate you less right now.

“And to top it off, you call him Jingkook?! Who in the world went to a BTS fanmeet and calls the golden maknae Jingkook?!” your friend screamed at you.

“Well… to be fair, you know I dont know them that well and I told you, multiple times, I might add, that I dont want to go but you dragged me here anyway!” you huffed. Its true. Being almost 8 years older than what your friend called the golden maknae, you are no longer interested in drooling over all these celebrities like some teenage fangirls. Especially idols.

Your friend rubbed her temples. “Yeah, and that was the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life. Remind me to not ever take you to any show ever again!”

You smile and linked arms with her. You know she’s mad, because unlike you, your friend is still in her fangirl phase, despite being the same age as you and she’s been looking forward to meet her favorite idols for months now. Its okay though because you know she loves you too much to be able to stay mad at you for a long time.

“I’ll treat you to dinner and ice cream okay? The event is finishing anyway. This way we wont be stuck in the parking lot, crammed with everyone trying to get home at the same time!”

“Yeah you are right. You should be grateful I managed to meet all of them before you pull that stupid stunt! And dinner will be my choice,” she smile. You laughs and nodded. Ready to make your way out and leave all this behind you.

The moment you and Jin Hee turned towards the door, two casually dressed man with a crew tag hung around their necks stops you. One of them smile and the other just eyed you from his position.

“Hello miss. I’m sorry to interrupt, but we work for BigHit,” the smiley man introduced himself.  "And if you have the time, we would like to invite you backstage,“ your eyes widen at that. So does Jin Hee’s.

"Huh?”

“Jungkook-ssi, or maybe you know him better as Jingkook-ssi would like to request your presence. He has something to say to you,” the other man chimed in, smirking at you when he mentioned the way you mispronounced Jungkook’s name. Your eyes widen even more. Shit, you are going to get it now. This Jungkook guy is so going to sue you. God, you had a wonderful career. A great life. You cant go to jail now. You really cant. You need to-

“Miss?” the first guy asks again, interrupting your thoughts when you didnt respond. You look at Jin Hee for help. She looks just as nervous as you are. The two man saw the look the two of you are giving each other, “You can come with,” he motioned to Jin Hee.

“This way please. The boys dont have much time. They have another schedule to attend to,” the non smiley man said and lead the way, giving you and Jin Hee no other choice but to follow along.

You and Jin Hee entered the back stage area and the man motioned you to go into one of the rooms. Sweating and feeling nervous as hell, you opened the door and is greeted by the seven boys you met on stage earlier. You look behind you at Jin Hee, she is staring at Taehyung and looks like she’s going to faint. Jungkook immediately stands up from his seat and smile at you. He noticed the way Jin Hee is staring at Taehyung and nodded at his hyung. Taehyung immediately nodded back and step towards Jin Hee, who you can confidently say could really faint for real anytime soon.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung. And you are?” He flashed his boxy smile at her. You felt sorry for you friend. You know how much she loves Taehyung. Her room is covered with his face. Every single inch of it, and now he is standing right in front of her. Smiling and asking her name.

“Jin…Jin Hee,” she managed to choked out.

“Well Jin Hee. I can tell you must like me the most out of these other six dorks,” he said with a smile, making the other boys groan out in protest. Jin Hee nodded fereciously.

“Ye…yes. You are my bias,”

“Well, how about we leave this two to talk and maybe we can have our own conversation?” Taehyung suggested, putting his arms around Jin Hee’s shoulder, leading her out. You grabbed her arms and shakes your head, silently begging her not to leave you with this… this Jingkook. She pushed your hand and mouthed an inaudible ‘Sorry, but its Taetae!’ and went out. You gave her one last glare, shooting daggers down her back. So much for friendship, what a betrayer!

One by one the other boys gets up from the couch and make their way out. Slapping Jungkook on the back snd grinning at him, before smiling at you and letting themself out, leaving the two of you alone. The last one out, if your memory of Jin Hee’s teachings doesnt fail you, is called Yoongi, and he smirked at Jungkook, “Take it easy Jungkook. Dont be so hard on her. Play nice,” and went off. You felt goosebumps after hearing him. Shit, Jungkook is really going to sue you. Jungkook just chuckle at his hyung. The moment you two were left alone, you turned to see Jungkook in front of you, leaning cockily against the wall, a smirk on his face and shamelessly eyeing you up and down.

You immediately clasped your hands together, as if you are begging and close your eyes. Ready for waterworks if need to.

“Mr Jungkook. I am so so so so so sorry for slapping you. I didnt mean it. I really did saw a bee. Its an automatic reaction. I’m sorry please dont sue me! Please dont press charges! I have a job that I need to keep. I have to feed my cat. She will miss me a lot if I go to jail. I have so many things to do. I cant go to jail. Please please. I will do anything. Please just dont sue me,” you rambled without stopping, you are panting, sweats starts to dot your forehead as your mind is filled with panic. You peeked open one eyes when you hear no respond from him to see him still leaning against the wall, quietly laughing.

You opened both eyes and placed your hands on your hips, feeling angry. Is he laughing at you? Is this boy seriously mocking you right now? You are apologizing to him with utmost sincerity and he is laughing at you? What a bastard.

Jungkook stops laughing when he sees how pissed you are. His face turns back into a smirk as he stepped closer and closer to you. You backed away until your back hits the wall and he stopped right in front of you, face so close your nose is almost touching.

“You said you will do anything as long as I dont sue you, right?” he asks in a low seductive voice, his warm breath fanning your face. You shut your eyes tightly in fear. You might be older, but this boy is seriously scaring you.

“Y..yes,”

“What’s your name?”

“Y…Y/N,”

“Well then Y/N. I need you to do one thing for me before I can forgive you,” you felt his hands get closer to your sides, almost touching your waist. You close your eyes and turn your face to the right, away from him.

“No…no. Please no,” you start to tremble. “Dont do it. I am your noona!” Suddenly you felt him move away from you.

“What did you think I’m asking you to do?” he asks in his normal voice. You open your eyes and see him standing in front of you, grinning, showing his cute bunny smile and waving your phone in front of you. You then realized that he had taken your phone out from your crossbody bag that is hung by your side while you were scared shitless. You felt both relieved and feeling like punching him all at the same time.

He punched in some number and you heard his own phone in his pockets rings. After finally snapping out fron your dazed, you realized he is taking you number. You cursed yourself for not putting a password on your phone.

“So Noona huh?” he grinned. “Its fine. I always prefer older woman anyway,” he winked at you. He gave back your phone and grinned at you.“Your number is the price you have to pay for slapping me, Y/N,” he leans in closer and whisper in your ear, sending chills down your body. Before you can respond, someone knock on the door and Jin Hee peeked her head in. You can hear the voice of the other boys from outside. Taehyung peeks his head beside Jin Hee’s.

“Time’s up maknae. We got to go,” he grinned at you and close the door, Jin Hee following his steps.

What a traitor!

“Coming hyung,” Jungkook yelled back and start collecting his things. Before he went off he leans in one more time, softly whispering in your ear, “And you better respond to my texts and calls, if you dont want me to claim something more from you Noona,” he winked at your surprised face, chuckled and walked out. Leaving you confuse, alone in the room until Jin Hee came in, squealing about her experience with the other members.

Jungkook cant hide his smile when they were all buckled up in the car, on their way to the next schedule.

“Got what you wanted?” Taehyung peeks his head from between the head rests behind him, startling Jungkook.

“He sure did. Just look at that smile on his face. Maknae’s all grown up,” Hoseok who sat beside him chimed in. Jungkook chuckled, waving his phone in front of hin, indicating he did get what he wanted.

“Thanks hyung. For distracting the friend,” he turned around, thanking Taehyung.

“Not a problem. She’s fun. Maybe if things work out between you two we can all hang out with Jin Hee again,” Taehyung suggested. Jungkook nodded. Things working out between you two… It has a nice ring to it.

Y/N.

Jungkook puts on his headphones and turn to the window, grinning by himself. To be honest, he was extremely shocked when his face was suddenly slapped. He wanted to get angry but when he look at how shocked you are, he didnt have the heart to do so. Instead he found it funny when you start to ramble about a bee and apologizing refusely.

What kind of a girl would try to hit a bee with their bare hands?

Most girl he knows, which he admits is not many, would scream bloody murder if they saw a bee. But you. Your immediate reaction is to just slapped the shit out of the bee.

After the boys were ushered backstage after the event, Jungkook immediately told his hyungs about the connection he felt with you. The need to know more about you and Namjoon suggest to just invite you backstage and get your number. The managers had done that for some of the boys before, so its no big deal. So Jungkook asked for help from two of their managers to fetch you, praying and hoping you havent left yet after being dragged out of the auditorium.

You never ceased to amaze him. He laughs when he remembered how the first thought that came to your mind when you met him backstage is he wanted to sue you.

Sue you for slapping him? How in the world did you come to that conclusion? He chuckled to himself.

Most girls would go ballistic if an idol calls them to go backstage. But of course, not you. Everything you did just makes him more curious. More interested to getting to know you. Even the way you call him Jingkook fascinates him. This is the first time he met a fan who didnt know his name. You might be older, but you sure do act like someone his age. He doesnt feel the age gap at all. He chuckles again and felt a hard slap at the back of his head. He turned around and see Jimin grinning at him.

“God, stop acting like a love sick puppy. Chuckling like an idiot. We are here!” he said, while climbing out from the van. Jungkook followed suit, wishing their schedule would end soon so he could start texting you.

You are trying to forget everything that happen that day by cooking yourself a bowl of steaming ramen and planning to eat it while continuing watching the half seen episode of the latest drama you are currenlt binge watching. You were only on your third bite when your phone dings. Wondering who could have texted you this late at night, you peeks at the notification.

Jungkookie  ♡

What?  Did the delusional idol seriously placed a heart emoji beside his own name? You rolled your eyes and tapped open the notification, wanting to see what he wanted.

Jungkookie ♡ [01.43am] Hey Y/N. Are you sleeping?

Jungkookie ♡ [01.45am] I’m sorry I couldnt text you earlier. Trust me, I wanted to so badly. But today’s schedule was tight I dont even have time to pee!

Jungkookie ♡ [01.48am] I guess you are already sleeping. Good Night Y/N. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight.

You decided not to reply Jungkook’s messages. How is this boy so shameless? But you do like the fact he didnt call you noona. You really hate that. It just makes you feel old. Pushing all thoughts of him aside, you continue watching the drama, all thoughts of Jungkook dissapeared from your mind.

However, unfortunately for you, for someone who is supposed to be extremely busy, Jungkook seems to find the time to text you constantly. To the extend of calling you if you didnt reply to his barrage of text messages. You just ignore him and move on with your life, which Jin Hee strongly protest, ssying the boy could be your destiny, the love of your life. You just rolled your eyes at that. There is no way that’s going to happen. Jungkook is eight years younger than you, and an idol, at that.

No. You and him? That is never happening.

You and an idol? That is definitely not happening.

Its not like you are going to see him again anyways. You dont plan in attending any fanmeets any time soon, or ever.

Well, that’s what you think.

You were minding your own business at work, briefing your team for the new project when a very familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N noona?”

You close your eyes, shaking your head. This cant be. Please no. You turned around slowly, hoping it wont be who you thought it is, but of course…

“It is you!” Jungkook smile is so bright you almost went blind. You quickly dismissed your team who is giving you curious looks as he make his way to you, telling his other members who is grinning widely and waving at you that he will be back soon. “Why do you never reply to my texts or pick up my calls?” he pouts.

“Because I dont find the need to,” you quickly start to pack your things, trying to get away from him as soon as possible. He held your arm, stopping you.

“Do you work here Y/N?” he directly asked. It always make you feel some type of way when he just calls you by your name and instead of noona. You nodded.

“Obviously,”

“Great,” he clapped his hand in glee. “Now that I know where you work, if you still keep on avoiding my texts and calls, I will just come here and find you!” he happily declared.

“No! Please no,” he quirked an eyebrow at your outburst. “Please dont come here. I will reply to your text, okay?” you pleaded. Jungkook smile happily.

“That’s great!” he said, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face. “But you do know this is a broadcast company right? I come here a lot Y/N,”

You close your eyes in frustration. Crap. Why didnt you make the connection. You work in a huge broadcast company. He’s an idol. Of course he would be here a lot. And now that he knows you are working here… crap crap crap.

“Tell you what,” Jungkook suddenly lean in closer. “I promise I wont make a scene whenever I’m here, as long as you promise to see me or maybe grab a quick bite with me whenever I’m here. Deal?”

You sigh. This is so not what you had planned your day to go. You cant afford for him to create a ruckus at your place of work. You glare at him. Why is this delusional boy so obsessed with you anyway?

“Fine,” you agreed, making Jungkook smile and you just felt like you signed your death contract.

Ever since that fateful day, Jungkook has been texting you every single day. You have no choice but to reply. As days went by, you find him not to be so annoying anymore. Despite his age, he can actually hold a decent conversation with you, it didnt went pass you that he is also funny and sweet. He came to your office about two times a week, since his group is filming some show with the broadcast station. He made sure to see you every single time, for lunch, sometimes for tea and even just a quick bite. You have to admit, you kind of like spending time with him.

But when his age and his status as an idol came to mind, you quickly pushed your thoughts aside and try to forget all feelings that might have emerged.

Sometimes, you just feel that its already too late.

Jungkook always noticed when you start to distance yourself from him. He can feel you start to give in, opening yourself up to him, and as if you had a sudden realization, you will suddenly turn back to being cold and distance with him. He cant understand it. Its driving him even more crazy because well, Jungkook is in love with you. After months of getting to know you, he has no doubts that he has fallen deeply in love with you. Your age doesnt matter. It doesnt bother him at all. He loves everything about you.  But does it bother you? He knows you feel the same way, he’s very sure about it. It shows in the way you shyly smile at him or sometimes stare at him when you thought he wasnt looking. Still, Jungkook cant put a finger on what exactly is holding you back.

“Hey you okay?” Taehyung asks after seeing the maknae running his hand multiple times through his hair, worry written all over his face.

“No, not really,” Jungkook honestly admitted.

“Its Y/N noona isnt it?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook admits, shoulders slumped in frustration. “I know she feels the same way about me. I know she loves me back hyung. I know she does. But I dont understand why she’s holding her feelings back,” he sigh. “And I hate it when I see photos of her having fun with her friends partying, out drinking coffee with her colleagues and stuff after she said she is too busy to reply to my texts. I just felt like she has a life on her own, a life without me in it, a life she didnt want to include me in. And God, I really want to be in it,”

“Jungkook, you know noona is older than all of us right? Its just right that she already have a life of her own before she even met you. You cant expect her to only spend time with you. Even if the two of you got together, she will still have a life of her own. I dont see her as a woman who will change her whole life just for a man,”

“I know that,” Jungkook sigh. “But I dont like thinking she’s out there having fun and not even thinking about me. When all I do everyday is think about her every single second, wanting her,”

“Well then, I guess you have to go talk to Y/N noona and sort things out. See for sure where the two of you stand. That’s all the advice I can give you Kook,” Taehyung patted his back before leaving Jungkook thinking about his words.

Jungkook didnt see you for almost three weeks. He didnt have anymore programs to shoot at the company, thus, no more excuses to grab a quick lunch with you. Plus, his schedule is extremely pack, not giving him time to go and see you. Its drives him crazy, not being able to see you. He tried to hold it in, the extreme feeling of missing and wanting you, but all restrain broke loose when you casually replied to his text saying you are just on your way home from a date.

A fucking date.

You barely replied to his texts or answers his calls, and you went on a fucking date?

Jungkook knows you and him never talked about your relationship. Never actually set the line. Never discussed what you are to each other. But never would he have thought you would think so little of him. Absolutely ignoring and disrespecting his feelings that he laid out bare in front of you.

Furious and cant barely think straight, Jungkook makes his way to your house, not bothering or even caring what time it is. He let out a low growled when you opened the door still dressed in the outfit you wore for the date. It angers him how you dressed up so nicely for another man.

“Jungkook. What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised by his unexpected visit.

“Did you have fun on your little date, noona?” he ignored your question and answered with his own. You can sense the jealousy seething through him and sigh. You really have no time to deal with a hormonally induced boy with his ridiculous sense of jealousy.

“Jungkook… if that is why you are here about, then you shouldnt have. Its nothing, we just went out for dinner. We are just getting to know each other,”  you acting as if going out on a date is not a big deal only adding fuel to the fire.

“Then what about me? Why dont you fucking get to know me?! Are you seriously acting like you cheating on me is not a big deal!?” you are startled. Jungkook never speak that way to you before. Although a little afraid with the furious male in front of you, you try your best to act tough.

“What about you? What do you mean cheating on you? We are not dating Jungkook! We are nothing!  Get it through your childish little head!” you answered back, not able to entirely hide the tremble in your voice . “And I am still your noona. I didnt give you the permission to talk to me like that!”

Jungkook sent you a death glare, eyes dark, making your heart pounds faster. God, why is this boy looks so hot when he’s angry? “You are right noona. We are not dating, aren’t we? I am nothing to you, aren’t I?” his voice sounded so hurt, you just want to give him a hug and tell him everything is going okay. Jungkook ran his hands through his hair and make his way to the door, but you managed to stop him in time, pulling his arms.

“What do you want Y/N?” he growled, making you take a step back.

“Jungkook,” you stammered. “Its not like that. Its not what I meant! You are just to young to unde-”

“Is this what its all about? My age?! My fucking age?” Jungkook turned and walked further towards you. “You think I’m too young to be with you? Is that it?” you can see the anger radiating off him. Jungkook is frustrated. With all the thinking he’s been doing, he never would have thought his age would be the problem. At least not to you.He thought you are different. He is sick and tired with people treating him like a kid. He is a man and he can gladly prove it to you.

“No! That’s not it!” you quickly objected. “It was never about your age,” you quietly added underneath your breath. He stopped in his tracks and quirked an eyebrow.

“Then what is it Y/N? What is it that stops you from letting this,” his fingers motioned to the two of you “happen?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to answer him. You know the reason alright. But its too petty, you are afraid Jungkook would think its stupid.

“I…I’m..”

“What is it?” he is getting impatient. “Fuck this,” he make his move to the door.

“No, stop!” you quickly grabbed his arm again. Jungkook turned to you, raising an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation before he walk out of your door forever. Its now or never, you thought.

“Its because you are an idol!”

Both of you stayed silence after that. You let go of his arm and look down to the floor. How is it that you are eight years older than him but he still managed to make you feel so small?

“What?”

“Its…its because you are an idol…” you repeated in a small voice. Jungkook let out a loud huffed and wipe his face with frustration.

“What the hell do you mean Y/N? What does being an idol got to do with anything? What does it got to do with us being together?!” You kept quiet for a moment, contemplating on the best way to explain it to him.

“I…I cant handle the thought of dating an idol. Of having millions other girls going after you, talking about you,” Jungkook’s eyes flickered in confusion at what you meant. “I…I get jealous easily. If you are mine, then I want you to be mine alone. My past relationships… some is ruined because of my blinded jealousy, but it turns out not to be so blind when most of them really did cheat on me,” your voice small. You look back to your past relationships. Sometimes you dont know if your past boyfriends cheated on you because they are tired of your jealousy or your suspicious jealousy is really spot on. What you do know is that it never worked out.

And a relationship with an idol with girls throwing themselves at him all the time? Its highly likely it wont ever work out.

“What are you trying to say Y/N? That I would cheat on you? Because I’m an idol?”

“Don’t you understand?” you looked closely at his Jungkook’s face. “You are an idol. You have girls chasing afer you everyday, fantasizing about you. Everytime you do a particularly sexy dance move or even wink on stage, I cant help but feel jealous, thinking about how you are doing it for some other girl. Its not healthy Jungkook. I know its not. I cant do that to you. I cant roped you into this kind of a relationship.I rather not be with you at all than ruin what little friendship we have now,”

Jungkook takes slow steps towards you, finally closing the distance between the two of you. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, carressing your cheek.

“Is that what this is all about? You are denying me because you thought you will ruin the relationship?” you nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in closer to your ear. “Let me tell you a secret noona,” you can feel his warm breath touched the tip of your ear, “There’s nothing that I love more than hearing and knowing you want me all for yourself,” his voice is thick with seduction, it sends shivers down your spine.

His hands starts to run across your collarbones and down to the collar of your off the shoulders dress, slowly rubbing and tugging them down.

“I will show you that you have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. I will show you how I am yours and yours alone, noona,” he whispered in your ear before he cupped your chin with one hand and kissed you, while the other pulled the front of your dress down, revealing yourself to him.

/////

You woke up when the bright sunlight of the warm morning hit your face. You tried to move but you felt something heavy constricting you to the bed. You turned to your right and see Jungkook still sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You smile and trace his beautiful face. This is the most perfect view to wake up to. You knew then that you will never get enough of this boy. The marks all over his neck and chest makes you blush, taking you back to the events happening the night before.

“Everytime you need a reminder of how I fully belong to you, remember this. Remember this moment right now,” he pants as he thrust repeatedly into you, one of his hands keeping both of yours on the top of your head. “Remember that only.. you.. can..ahh fuck.. make. me.. feel.. this way,” he said between thrust as he keeps on pounding into you. “You are the only one who can turn me to dust, not the other girls. Never them,”

“Jungkook, please, please dont stop,” you begged him.

“Remember only.. you.. will.. ever.. see me… like this. Needy and begging for you. Ahh fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he quicken his thrust with every word. “Remember that its.. only.. your name.. I’m ever gonna.. scream out,”

“Jung…Jungkook, I’m going to-” you screamed out his name as you came, repeating his name over and over again. Jungkook kept on pounding into you, chasing his own sweet release. You can feel he’s close when you felt him twitch inside of you. He leaned forward closer to your face.

“Remember…ahhh…that I love you Y/N. I love you so much, its not even funny,” he said before he kissed you deeply as he spilled himself into you, moaning your name endlessly between pants.

He rolled away from you after the two of you recollect you senses and look at you, giving you a peck on the lips.

“I love you so much Y/N. From the very first slap,” you chuckled, remembering the memory. “I promise I wont give you a reason to feel the need to get jealous or to not trust me,”

“I know Jungkook. I’m just afraid. I’ve been dating ordinary man all these while and its still a problem, I dont know if I can handle dating an idol. An incredibly handsome and talented one at that,” Jungkook push a strand of your hair away from your face.

“I’m not just an idol Y/N. I am also just a man. A man who’s desperately in love with you,” he pecked your lips. “Being an idol has nothing to do with us. I love you,” he kissed you deeper, more passionately. “Thankyou for giving us a chance, for trying with me. I promise it will be worth it,”

Jungkook made love to you four times that night, each time reminding you that it will always be you, and only you, no matter what he does in front of his fan girls. He whispered words of love into your ears, promising he will be there for you every step of the relationship, until you learned that he really loves you and no jealousy can come between it.

You smile at his sleeping figure, finally admitting to yourself that you are pathetically in love with him, the young idol you slapped when you first met. You realized Jungkook is worth it. He’s worth the try. He’s worth the fight.

“Good morning beautiful,” Jungkook sleepily greeted you, eyes half open but leaning in for a quick morning kiss. He suddenly flipped you over, laying on top of you and kissed you long and deep, his hard erection poking your stomach. Jungkook cheekily smirked at you after he broke the kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“I think…” he slowly kisses a slow trail down your jawline and towards your neck. “You should be reminded again why you have no reason to be jealous…”

A/N: This fiction is slightly based on the Othello Syndrome, or Suspicious Jealousy.Othello Syndrome is a real psychological disorder in which a person is preoccupied with the thought that their spouse or sexual partner is being unfaithful without having any real proof. Its a real psychological disorder that should be never taken lightly, along with other disorders.

[whimsymuse]

Storytelling (chapter 8)

➺ “You’re so used to following the path set for you by others, that is until a certain someone comes along and teaches you to write your own story.”

 A story in which a famous idol falls for an average college student and they both try to follow their dreams, while struggling to stay together.

A/N This is actually my first fic for this fandom, so hopefully you all enjoy it!

Masterlist

pairing: Namjoon x Reader

genre: Fluff, humor and knowing me probably some angst

warnings: strong language

words: 3,042

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ... 

     Ever since the two of you exchanged numbers, you spoke to each other almost everyday. You spoke about everything and nothing and every time you were amazed by how intelligent he was. Each conversation you shared was meaningful, even if it was simply about the weather outside. Namjoon just had a way of making everything mean something profound and you really admired that about him. Sometimes, when both of you felt like taking a break from your stressful lives, he would ask to go on walks together. That was it, simple walks around town mostly around the Han River just to take a breather once and awhile and just to enjoy each other’s company. As simple as it sounds, these little walks were the highlight of your weeks. They kept you grounded in your whirlwind of school work and work stress and you also got to learn more about Namjoon every time.

     Namjoon, you learned, didn't keep regular hours. You would often fall asleep while texting him and then wake up to a good morning message from him sent during the early hours of the morning. Every time you saw the timestamp on those messages, you would scold him and tell him to sleep more, to which he would tell you “I sleep during the day, don't worry.” That response just made you worry more. You still didn’t know what his job was exactly, but you hoped he would get more sleep nevertheless. No matter how many times he told you that he napped, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that a couple naps during the day made up for a good night's rest.

You (7:43am):

     Joon, please. Tonight, sleep early.

Namjoon (7:45am):

     I can’t tonight, I still have a lot to do. But don't worry, after today I'll be done and then I'll sleep for an entire week. ;)

     He’d been saying that a lot lately; that he was too busy to sleep and it annoyed you. How could he possibly be too busy to get some sleep? In your university experience, you learned the hard way that your physical and mental health needed to take priority over all else, or else you would internally combust.

      You let out a heavy sigh as you threw your phone onto the couch.

      “What’s wrong now? Trouble in paradise.”

      You sent Alyson a glare before you sunk into the couch beside your phone. “He just. He’s not getting enough sleep.”

       “Why don't you just go to him and tell him to sleep if he’s not listening to your texts.”

       “I don’t know where he lives.” You grumbled and how Alyson managed to hear you from all the way in the kitchen, you had no idea.

      “Then, visit his work and force him to get some sleep.”

      “I don’t know where he works either. I don’t even know what his job is.” You said into the couch cushion.

      Alyson stormed into the living room, “You don't even know what his job is?! You’ve been non-stop texting this man for about a week and a half, you’ve gone on like a million walks together and that’s never come up?!”

      You groaned, then flipped over onto your back to look at her fully. “Of course it came up. But he still hasn't explicitly told me what he does and I didn't want to pry. It's none of my business anyways.”

       “What do you mean if none of your business?! You two are practically dating and you don't know this basic information about him? For all you know, the man could be apart of the mafia, or a murderer!”

      “You’re over exaggerating, Aly. And we’re not dating, we’re just friends.”

      You looked up to see Alyson crossing her arms in front of her and wearing an annoyed expression.

“What?” You asked.

“What’s his name?”

“Why?” You dragged out the question, suddenly growing a little reluctant to give up his name.

“Um… Because I’m your best friend and I should at least know the name of the guy you’ve been obsessing over.”

“I’ve not obsessing over him!” You protested, but Alyson just rolled her eyes.

“What’s his name, Y/n?”

You groaned but then looked up at her expectant expression and gave in knowing that she would not let up until you gave her what she wanted. “Namjoon.” You said, “Kim Namjoon.”

Alyson smiled and whipped out her phone, “Thank you.”

You watched her quickly type something out on her phone and your eyes widened, “Wait, what are you doing?” You asked.

“Googling him.” She replied casually.

“What?! No!” You quickly flipped over and off of the couch, then started to reach for her phone.

You chased her around the living room, but with her short stature she easily dodged your desperate hands.

She evaded you while you chased her through the kitchen and the dinning room and as you chased her towards the couch, she quickly climbed over it and out of your reach.

          “And, search!” Alyson called out triumphantly just above your crumpled figure on the couch.

“Holy shit.” She said.

          You lifted your head up from the couch, “What?”

          Alyson pushed some hair behind her ear and rapidly blinked her eyes before looking up from her screen at you, “Kim Namjoon, right?” You nodded, “What exactly did he tell you about his job?”

        You threw your hands into the air, “I already told you that I don't know much.”

        “Okay, but what do you know.” The urgency in her voice made you concerned, but you decided that answering her was the fastest way to find out what the heck was going on.

        “He told me that he’s in a band with six of his friends.” You shrugged, “That’s it really. He didn't seem to want to tell me more, so I didn't ask.”

        The expression that you were greeted with when you looked back up at Alyson made you freeze. Her eyes were so wide that the only way you could properly describe them was bug-eyed. Her jaw was dropped so low, you were concerned that it might actually fall off.

           “Aly” You slowly approached her, “You okay?”

            Alyson just shook her head and forced her phone into your hands before covering her face and collapsing onto the couch in hysteria.

         Your eyes quickly skimmed through the search results on the screen and with every passing link, your eyes widen more and more.

         Producer, songwriter, rapper and leader of an internationally famous group named BTS, or the Bulletproof Boy scouts, or Beyond the Scene? Stage name: RM, formerly known as Rapmonster.

         “WHAT?!”

     You quickly clicked on the Google images with shaking hands and were immediately greeted with pictures of Namjoon, your Namjoon - well, not yours but the one you knew. In the pictures he was wearing much more vibrantly coloured clothes that complimented his similarly vibrant hair, but his bright almond eyes and signature dimples left no doubts in your mind. That was the Kim Namjoon you knew.

       You whipped your head up to look at your friend for some acknowledgement that this was all some elaborate and messed up prank of hers, but all she did was take her phone from your hands and nod approvingly.

       “Cute and talented?” She said, “I approve.”

       You smacked her arm, “Shut up and help me!  What do I do?!”

               “What is there to do?” She asked with a shrug, “He’s still the dorky guy you fell for from the cafe, He’s just known by a little more people than you thought.”

        You scoffed, “A little.”

        “Okay, a lot.” Alyson admitted, “But does him being famous change the fact that you care about him?”

       “Of course not.” You answer without any hesitation, “It’s just that-”

        “No, that's it. You care about him and that's all that matters. He may be famous, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a good guy or that he’s into you.”

         You rolled your eyes, “He’s not into me. We’re just friends.”

         Alyson cocked her eyebrow up and pointed at you, “You say that, but you literally just confessed to falling for him.”

         “What are you-” Your mind quickly raced through the conversation you just had.

       When did I? Oh…

       You pressed your face into your hands and groaned.

        Alyson laughed as she pat your shoulder, “Sorry, you can't control it sweetheart. It just happens.”

                You let out another groan before collapsing into the couch again, while Alyson’s laughter filled the room.

You (12:33pm)

          Hey, Joon. Can we meet up later tonight? I need to talk to you.

          After thinking about it for a long time, you decided to tell Namjoon what you knew. The problem wasn't that he was famous, heck Alyson was right when she said that he was still the same man you fell for. He was still the most wildly intelligent, the most charmingly contemplative and the most endearingly klutzy man you’ve ever met and you were not about to let him go over the fact that you suddenly found out that he was famous.

            No, Namjoon was far more than his fame and you had to let him know that you knew that.

             However, even though you knew about his band and his music, you couldn't bring yourself to watch any of their videos or to listen to any of their songs. It felt like you were betraying Namjoon’s trust; like you were intruding on a part of Namjoon’s life that he didn't want you to know about - He did refuse to tell you that he was famous afterall. You just didn't want to take more than he was willing to share, even if that meant not sneaking a peak at the music he produced, no matter how badly you wanted to listen to it.

     You wanted to be welcomed into his life at his own pace and by his own terms - if he wanted to let you in at all.

Namjoon (12:45pm)

       Yeah sure! I have a little time to spare and I’ve been meaning to ask you to dinner, so that sounds great. ^^

Namjoon (12:45pm)

        I’ll pick you up around 6?

You (12:46pm)

        Sure. See you then.

         The clock above your desk seemed to mock you. No matter how much you willed time to pass faster, the arms of the clock just seemed to slow down.

          By 4:30pm, you were already ready and were nervously pacing back and forth in your bedroom. Even if you weren't about to talk to him about his secret fame, you would be nervous. Alyson told you that it was normal to be nervous for a date, but even though neither of you explicitly called it that, you still felt like you would explode from your nervousness.

        You also didn't specify where you would be going on this outing, so you settled for a semi-casual look, leaning more towards casual. You looked down at your sweater and jeans. This is enough right? You wondered to yourself, turning around in the mirror. You’d paired the outfit with a gold statement necklace, but that was about as fancy as the outfit got. The snow outside had settled calmly on the ground, but the winter chill would only let you be so fancy before it pulled you down into its icy grasp.

                   As time lethargically ticked by, you tried to distract yourself with your creative writing assignment. Your assignment was to write a poem about being on the verge of something.

          ‘Anything’, your teacher had said with a vivacity that was far too much for an 8am class. ‘It could be about the feelings laced with the failure or with the success in achieving a goal. It could simply be about literally jumping from a high point, like skydiving! Just describe to me what you would feel.’

          You groaned and pressed your face into your notebook. It sure felt as if you were on the verge of something right now. Whether that was being on the verge of improving your relationship with Namjoon or ruining it, you weren’t sure - you hoped the former - but either way, the feelings were the same. The anxiety and the excitement that could only be felt just before an important date, spilled onto the page in front of you. You expressed your fears, your impatience and your anticipation in a chaotic free-verse.

           Just as you finished off the poem, there was a knock at your door that pulled you from your trance. For a second, you were confused as to why someone would be knocking at your door, but once you glanced up at the time and noticed that it as 6:00pm on the dot, you remembered your da- outing.

           Another knock at your door had you stumbling out of your seat. Somehow you managed to catch your foot on the leg of your chair and the next thing you knew, you were tumbling forward onto the floor.

           A few more knocks, these ones more rapid and loud then the last. “Y/n? Is that you? Are you okay?” Namjoon’s voice called out through the wooden door.

           You quickly jumped to your feet, “Fine!” You called back just before you swung open the door. “Hey.” You said breathlessly.

Namjoon looked at you with a concerned expression written all over his face, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” You said a little too quickly to be convincing. “I just stumbled a little bit, but I’m okay.” You said as you smoothed your hair down.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as Namjoon’s eyes scanned over you, as if to check if you injured anything. You prayed that he didn't notice how nervous you were because you could feel your heart rapidly beating and you also distinctly felt the heat building up in your cheeks the longer his eyes looked at you. The moment soon passed, much to your relief, as he greeted you with a shy smile. Awhile ago you thought you’d get used to seeing his smiles and hoped that maybe your heart would stop skipping a beat whenever you saw them, but boy were you wrong. If anything they only made you more flustered, but at least when he smiled his eyes crinkled enough that he doesn’t notice your bush.

        For Namjoon’s part, he was dressed handsomely, devastatingly so; in black jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that was hidden under the layers of his blazer, a scarf and a coat. From one glance you would say that he was a man that was not only confident in his fashion, but in himself too just from the way he carried himself. And although that might be the case, from the way he shifted back and forth on his feet, you could tell he was nervous as well.

       “I uh…” He scratched the back of his head as an evident blush started to blossom on his cheeks. “This is for you.”

       Your eyes widened when you noticed a bouquet of flowers being thrust towards you.

       Anemones. Your brain immediately said when you saw the large black centre surrounded by large and velvety looking petals. Anticipation, you thought, how fitting. The flowers were a beautiful shade of pink, similar to the shade on Namjoon’s cheeks and that just made you stare at them more fondly.

        “Wow, I’ve never got flowers before.” You said wistfully as your fingers delicately traced along the petals.

        “I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.” Namjoon responded and you tilted your head to the side in confusion.

         “What do you mean?”

         He shrugged, “I mean that I’m sad that you’ve never received flowers before because that's just absurd. But I’m also selfishly happy that I’m the first and only one giving you flowers.”

           His eyes sparkled as if they held all of the stars in the sky and since they were directed towards you, you felt like you were those stars and you just crumbled.

          “God damnit, Kim Namjoon!”

          “What?! Did I say something wrong?!” He started to profusely apologize, but you gently placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

          “No you did nothing wrong.” You said as you took the flowers and quickly turned, beckoning him to follow you into your apartment.

          “You just gave me a bouquet of flowers and piled on a couple of cheesy pickup lines.” You grumbled as you began your hunt for a vase for the flowers.

          Namjoon chuckled when he picked up on your words, “Was that too much?”

          “Yes! Okay no, but how can I compete with flowers and cheesy pickup lines?!” You called out from the kitchen as you placed the flowers in a small vase. They really were beautiful and you couldn't help but fall even harder for this man. It just wasn't fair how easily he managed to do that to you.

          “What are the flowers for?” You asked him as he made his way towards you,

“To thank you.” He said.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, pulling a chuckle from Namjoon. “I finished the project I was working on a lot sooner than expected and it’s all thanks to you.”

“Me?”

Namjoon nodded, “I was uh…” He scratched the back of his head and looked away, “I was working on an album for our band and you helped me finish it.”

“How did I do that?” You asked and Namjoon looked up at you fondly.

“You inspired me.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and then he turned and held out his arm. “Ready to go?”

“H-huh?” You asked, still a little thrown off by his confession, it wasn’t every day someone told you that they were inspired by you. In fact this was your first time every hearing that and you were completely caught off guard, but you quickly recovered with a shake of your head, “Y-yeah.” You said, “Let’s go.”

You hesitantly looped your arm around his and made your way towards your door. On your way, Namjoon reminded you to grab your jacket because ‘It’s pretty cold outside, Y/n. Didn’t you check the forecast?’ You swatted his arm when he said that, but still slipped on your jacket just before heading out.

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ...

A/N Hey guys! So here’s the chapter I promised to post before I leave for my trip. I’ll be flying out tomorrow and I’m not sure when I’ll have internet next, so I apologize again for my lack of activity in the near future. I’ll be back in a couple weeks, so hang tight!! I know this is kind of a cliff hanger, but... enjoy I guess ;) Thank you for all of your support so far! I love writing this story, so I hope you all love reading it ^.^

 please do NOT edit, copy or repost

[marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches]

Oh my goodness, I didnt see the link to your fanfic account! I am dumb. So ignore my previous ask and instead answer this one for the meme. 13, 3, 14, 1 and 2 for Happiness goes on? (I shall leave reviews on your beautiful fanfic soon I promise, they are good.)

(Hiii, sooo…this whole reply is late because I actually typed up ALL OF THIS last night, and then accidentally “x”-ed out of my browser and lost it all, because I am very very stupid. And then was too tired to retype it up before going to sleep. I hope I remember roughly everything, and apologies for that mistake.)

Oh! Haha! Alright then! Thank you! Don’t feel dumb at all for not realizing which AO3 account is mine or for your previous ask(which for others who are curious, said: “1 - 5 for all your fics! Just talk about your favs!”). I was prepared to choose 3 fics (including “Happiness Goes On” since that’s definitely the one I’m most proud of, so I guess that’s closest to a “favorite” right?), and go through the first 5 questions for each, though I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t have taken some time to answer.

BUUUT…since you said to scrap that first ask, I’ll answer these individual ones for “Happiness Goes On.” And your compliment and promise for a future review means SO goddamn much, thank you sincerely.

(WARNING / REMINDER: This is about my fic that deals with the subject of child molestation, and I do reference that a little bit in this reply. Don’t read further if it makes you uncomfortable, which I entirely understand and respect.)

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13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

HA! Well, American Pie obviously, for a majority of it. While brainstorming / writing / editing the epilogue? A lotta Billy Joel. ;)

The idea to use American Pie bounced into my brain when it came on the radio at the thrift shop where I volunteer, one of the rare times my own music speaker battery died. Usually a disaster, because our store radio is pretty crappy, but the sound quality wasn’t too bad that day, and I rediscovered how much I love that song and ‘Why isn’t this on my ipod again?’. Listening to the lyrics, I realized how much some of them fit the Guardians in general, and this story specifically, which I have Gamora mentally note in the fic. I was sitting and casually chatting with the manager while also thinking, ‘Google what year this came out when you get home, but I’m sure it’s the 70′s. Peter would know it, and it could be the Zune. I think it could work.’ I’m proud that I was able to reference the song so many times without actually naming it by title, but I assume most readers knew what it was, it’s just that famous. (I also couldn’t resist the light-hearted joke, later when things calmed down, of Gamora saying “This…is the longest song…I have ever heard.” and Peter smiling without even looking at her and giving a cheeky “I know.”)

In terms of using Billy Joel for the epilogue, I’m just a Billy Joel fanatic. The use of him for this story began just from the We Didn’t Start the Fire joke toward Rocket at the bar (I thought it was clever, Peter!), and later on I saw how The Longest Time fit romantically for Starmora, and some of the lyrics matched the healing themes of the overall story, and I thought ‘Maybe they’ve been playing BIlly Joel since that night; maybe that can be the joke.’ Why shouldn’t his Greatest Hits albums (at least) be on the Zune? I struggled a lot over what song should be the final one Gamora comments on before they switch artists to appease the group. I never specify which romantic Billy Joel song Peter and Gamora slow danced to during their “date night” in that six-week summary, but I like to imagine it was Just the Way You Are. I considered Keeping the Faith or Vienna for the final one, but I thought they deserved something more fun and naughty to analyze this time, so Only the Good Die Young it is. :D

In conclusion, I listened to The Longest Time, and the entire An Innocent Man studio album, a lot (as if I needed an excuse).3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

The portion in italics is my favorite line, but I’m including the entire sentence for context purposes: “She would need to grow used to him viewing Yondu as a caring parent who was extraordinarily protective of his boy, and would have hunted down this pervert to whistle a glowing arrow through her skull.”14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Ohh geez, wow, that one is tough. I don’t know if it’s accurate to say this story was intended to educate, but just to explore the idea with fictional characters. I have no expertise on the subject, and would never claim such, or talk down to those who do. I didn’t intend to create a PSA. I suppose all of the “lessons” for Peter (if they can be called that) I hope all readers already know and agree on (basically a collection of “it wasn’t your fault” and “this doesn’t define you” and “trauma isn’t a competition, someone else suffering worse doesn’t invalidate your experience” and “you should feel comfortable talking about anything without judgement or shame” etc.).

Slightly lesser scale messages, there’s also reminders about the importance of communication, trusting each other, letting the other person speak in an argument, not letting one’s jealousy/instincts/bad mood interfere with fairness, not running away from a fight or staying angry, respecting boundaries and privacy, all that healthy relationship jazz that these two are still figuring out. 1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

This post is already very long, and I could probably talk for hours about the decision-making process for many scenes (of my GotG fics, this took the longest to write and publish, over 2 months), so I’ll try to condense this to a few bullet points that probably don’t fit the “inspired” criteria.

- It was originally going to be in two parts, 4 scenes each, when I thought the epilogue would be much shorter. But as the lil’ wrap-up got longer (because we needed a fluffy conclusion, dammit!), I decided to make it a separate “chapter.”

- I think the concept probably started as one of those strange, angsty “what if?” scenarios I make up in my head at night that I still can’t believe I created into a full-fledged work. I liked the idea of Peter and Gamora having this conversation and her comforting him, but I knew if I was really going to throw it out there for other fans, it had be more balanced with happier moments, too. I just know I was always going to make the offender a woman - both because it would lead to the misunderstanding that she was a past consensual hook-up when Peter was an adult to spark some irritation and jealousy in Gamora, and because it’s realistically different from other sexual assault stories, since women can be pedophiles and child predators too, and they’re just as horrible. :(

- The fanfic idea of “Gamora accidentally starts a fire while trying to cook, and Peter falsely accuses and lashes out at Rocket” was in my head before, but there were two key differences. 1) It was the entire plot, not a light-hearted subplot in the shadows of something bigger, 2) Meredith’s letter was either fully or partially burnt as a result of the fire. By the end Gamora was going to confess it was her fault, that she was trying to surprise Peter by cooking spaghetti, and he would apologize both to her and to Rocket for losing his temper and getting so angry. I hated that idea later and found it too sad (he’s already lost the Walkman and second cassette tape, why would I want him to lose even more from his mother?), and in “Spark My Memory” (the Christmas fic I wrote for “12 Days of Starmora”) the Guardians put his mother’s letter in the photo album gift for Peter, completely safe and unharmed. I like to keep all my fanfics canon-compliant and non-contradictory from each other, so the letter is fine, no burning it.

Yet “Gamora started a fire cooking” still seemed fun to me, as I like the idea that she’s so badass and skilled and intelligent, but failed at something so domestic and simple. Kinda cute. I was so excited to insert it into this, because I think it worked on multiple levels. It’s a driving force for the plot (the reason the team go to the restaurant and they stumble upon that particular waitress), the reason Gamora was already in a bad mood during her fight with Peter, it could be used as a metaphor/comparison for Peter’s anxiety and Gamora’s guilt, it was something for the Guardians to put at a higher priority to tease and mock Gamora for while oblivious to the main story, something for Peter to just break down into giggles over once they changed the subject (because he earned a good laugh after that heartbreaking and vulnerable childhood trauma story), an excuse to give Rocket so many funny lines, an overall silly and sitcommy-style subplot to fall back on, and a sweet “victory!” for Gamora to have (sort of?) conquered by the epilogue. ^_^2: What scene did you first put down?

This is easy. I’ve written all but one (8 out of 9) of my fanfics in order, except for “Just Like Everybody Else.” So ya, I wrote the opening scene first, Baby Groot’s magic trick lesson and Peter’s oh-so-cruel “can only be seen once” deception. I needed to ease readers (and myself) into the angst and heavy shit to follow, and that cute idea had also been in the back of my mind for a while. ^_^

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PHEW, OKAY, ALL RE-TYPED! Thank you again SO MUCH for the lovely ask and wonderful questions, your actual interest and curiosity thrilled me! You see I wasn’t kidding about the incessant babbling. :P

Thank you also for the kudos you left on AO3, and take care!~