#Grace is not here and it IS a shame cause she was my favourite

[i-lost-my-last-blog]

so .... nerdy prudes must die am I right?

This is a drawing from when the musical first came out and I was in a bit of a spooky October mood . I kind of rushed it but eh I'll live

Teenagers getting haunted by beings beyond their imagination is the new genre

[xfancyuu]

~ it's tonight, i'm a venomous flower after taking your soul. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

the queen of the seven kingdoms in desperate need of an heir, luckily for her the king's brother is available! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are OPEN! there are no appearance indicators in this fic. [2,500 words]

i am in NO way responsible in your fanfic consumption MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: this fic contains: dubcon (to be safe), throne sex, cucking (kinda), oral sex (f receiving), knife kink, mean dom reader, sub aemond, name calling (aemond), breeding, girl on top, degradation, biting/marking kink there might be slight humiliation kink in here. this is just really filthy, porn without plot. if i missed any please lmk!

The crown sat atop of your head, your expression was one of boredom while your body sat on the Iron Throne. A thing you hated so much, it tore the family apart yet freely sat upon, taking the role your husband could not succeed at. He didn’t succeed at many things in your opinion — your womb lacked an heir you would get even if it wasn’t your husband who would provide you with such a blessing. Your husband wouldn’t know the child was not his, you were certain of that. 

“You must know the reason you’re here today, Aemond, I need an heir and my husband cannot provide for me, so you will make do. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now, would you? You are, after all, my most favourite subject?”

You had perplexed Aemond, if he were any other man he’d be on his knees within an instant. He’d do whatever you had told him to without hesitance, but he knew what would happen if anybody were to find out what you were suggesting, sitting on the throne no less. “Your husband will have me hanged, I quite value my life, your grace, even if you do not.”

“You dare say no to me.” You were growing irritated with him, you were certain he’d be on his knees begging for this opportunity. You’d seen how he looked at you with such intensity, his eye truly held his unsaid thoughts freely. “You should be on your knees, worshipping your queen, not questioning her decisions.

“And what would you have me do once I’m on my knees?”

“I could think of a few things,” you were smirking now, “Do you not wish to fuck me? I had thought you wouldn’t need convincing. Is your eye the only thing that’s missing, or are you missing… other parts?”

You were getting under his skin now, he knew you wanted to get a rise out of him, to make him act in such a way that he would lose all his morals and fuck you on the throne which had caused his family such anguish, to betray his brother in such a way.

“Why are you so concerned about my own parts? Should you not be more focused on your own husband’s? And his lack of giving you an heir?”

“We are at war, I cannot be without an heir if anything happened to your brother you know what they would do to me.” Your own desperation was seeping through your words, perhaps this was truly your last resort, that you had tried everything you possibly could to produce an heir, and it was in fact Aegon who was at fault with your lack of children. “You are my last hope Aemond, I would not ask if I didn’t believe it would work.”

“As devoted as I am to the crown, I do not intend to bed you y/n. It would bring great shame both upon my house and I. It shouldn’t be so hard to find somebody who has the same… plain features as yourself.” You were too stunned to speak, how dare he insult you. You didn’t have the typical Valyrian features, that was true, but you were considered a great beauty.

“Unlike your family, it is uncustomary to bed ones own family, and I have run out of all but one option… If you don’t do so willingly, I’ll have to find other means of… convincing you.” The blade you had always kept hidden upon your person was suddenly within your hand. You were suddenly on your feet, standing in front of the ever so stubborn Prince.

The blade had been pressed to his neck, though you had found the height difference between the both of you ridiculous, he knew you couldn’t hurt him. The king could find a new wife but you could not be pardoned for killing a member of the royal family. Despite this, you pressed the blade harder, slight droplets of blood falling to the far too sharp blade. “Get on your knees for me.”

Aemond could do nothing but comply with your demand. Hastily dropping to the floor while you had not moved the blade an inch from his neck. “I like you like this, willing to do whatever I command. And I command you fuck me with your tongue.”

You knew that it was absolutely degrading to have Aemond on his knees, that anybody could walk into the throne room at any second and see the two of you in such an abhorrent act, that everything you were working towards would be ruined, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“I’m going to sit down on that throne, and you are going to worship me as though I am a god.” Your fingers had squeezed his cheeks together, as though you were truly someone the man would be afraid of. You were under no illusion that your dominance over him could be so easily interrupted if he so wished it. “You are going to do exactly as I say, now stay there.”

You had ascended the steps to the throne, turning your back to the man, who if he so wished could leave at any moment. Yet you had not heard movement from him, you’d ensured your climb towards the throne was painfully long yet when you sat down on the throne he was still on his knees before you. 

“Come to me, Princeling.” Your demand had him standing up, yet that wasn’t what you had wanted, “I want you to crawl for me, show me how desperate you are to eat my cunt.” You had never degraded a man in such a way before, yet it had sent shocks down to your core. Seeing Aemond who had never been unyielding make his way to you on all floors had you giddy with anticipation. “Such a good boy, listening to your god.”

Aemond had simply grunted, choosing not to respond to your pet names, instead he chose to seek refuge beneath your skirt which you had more than willingly raised — you had expected him to be less compliant, though you couldn’t truly complain your own pleasure came before that of anybody else’s. 

Aemond had begun kissing your thighs, which you had so easily spread for him. The teasing was not something you were used to, from your left thigh moving to the right, being ever so close to your sweet spot which so desperately wanted attention. “Stop wasting my time and give me what I want.”

The anticipation of having his lips on your bud was swiftly met with Aemond taking his time sucking on the spot you needed him most. The sensation had made you moan aloud, uncaring if anybody heard the lewd noises you were making. Your focus was distracted, touching your own body in ways he could not.

With your ample bosom now exposed, your fingers playing with your hardened nipples as Aemond continued his sucking, his teeth grazing your already sensitive nub had you crying out, yet you could do nothing to stop him, too lost in your own pleasure. “Did I say you could stop?” You had asked, the feeling of irritation building within you yet weren’t prepared for Aemond’s tongue to enter you.”Oh — “ a mean had slipped its way past your lips.

“Gonna need a bit more than that if you want to please me.” While his tongue had entered you, you had lost stimulation where you needed it most. It had taken everything within you not to place his head exactly where you had wanted. The temptation hadn’t won over, but you’d had another idea.

You’d use Aemond’s own anatomy to your own benefit, the back and forth of your hips moving had allowed you to get the pleasure you graved most in an unexpected place. Your bud had found its place against his nose — grinding against him.

Your pace had continually increased, your hands finding his hair for your own pleasure and tugging on it as if it would help you ride his face faster. It was as though you had been untouched for months. It was as if Aemond was only there for your pleasure, not that you would ever think of giving him the same courtesy.

Your peak didn’t take long to achieve, curses were spilling from your lips as though they were a prayer and finally you had come, and you did so hard. Your breathing was erratic while your legs shook, though he clearly wasn’t done with you, continuing to fuck your cunt with his tongue, you had almost wanted to pull away.

You had noticed Aemond's movements as you had come down from your own pleasure, never once had you told him he could touch himself, "Are you fucking your own hand? You should be focused on my pleasure, and my pleasure alone, I’m going to have to punish you, boy, and I doubt you’re prepared for it."

The position change had been imminent and happened far too fast for you to comprehend that you had pulled him up from his knees and had forced him to sit in your previous position while you had sat on top of him. 

“My sweet boy, have you ever fucked a woman’s cunt before?” You were grinding on his erection, teasing him as you hovered over him, “You know you want to, imagine your queen filled with heirs, how your seed was the only one able to fill my womb.”

The need for him inside you had overcome the need to taunt and tease him. “Enter me, you fucking coward, or I am inclined to believe what they say about you is true.” He’d had enough of your taunting, he’d held his resolve for far too long, and the way you spoke to him was a way nobody else dared to. "That you don't have a cock." You whispered in his ear as you felt his very hard, very real cock enter you, the wetness had made your descent easier, though the sting still prevailed.

Aemond’s hands had found your hips, gripping them as though it would help you move, though you continued to sit, torturing him knowing you could move at any second and he couldn’t physically move you up and down. “Got nothing to say? You usually have comments.” 

He had moved inside you but you had moved up slightly, “Why would have something to say? You like talking so much.” His fingertips had softly grazed the skin oh your collarbones, then the side of your breast. You weren’t expecting his hand to grip the entirety after being so soft and gentle.

“Did I say you could do that?” You had asked, your tone being that of one you’d scold a child with. “Did I say you could touch me in any way you pleased? You’re here for my pleasure, not the other way around.”

“Yet you’re the slut that wants to fuck the kings brother, should you really care what I do? How I touch you?” He was antagonising you, you knew that much but lifting yourself up and down upon him had him shutting up as soon as he spoke.

“I like you better when you didn’t talk, when you were complacent and didn’t talk back, should we go back to that? I can have you on your knees again.” As if having enough of your behaviour, Aemond had rolled his eyes while you continued to bounce on him.

You hadn’t spoken while you rode him, maintaining eye contact with him despite the eyepatch, he truly did not intimidate you.

You knew Aemond was close to his own release, as were you, with your own fingers creating circular motions while your bud throbbed while Aemond had continued squeezing your breast.

“How many men have you fucked to have an heir? How would the kingdom react, knowing their queen is a slut?” Aemond had asked, while you increased your pace, bouncing up and down as if your life depended on it, “How many would you fuck just to have this feeling?”

“You’re the only slut here, eating my cunt, fucking me, is there anything you won’t do for your queen?” You know your peak is coming, yet you want to savour the feeling, "You belong to me now, if you touch anybody else I'll know." You had started sucking on the skin of his neck, continuing your excruciatingly slow pace. The sounds Aemond was making had riled you up, yet you maintained your pace as steadily as you could.

The intensity had clouded your entire being, you were spasming, holding onto him tightly, perhaps even wanting him to feel the same pleasure you were or perhaps to finally give you what you craved so badly. "Fill me heirs, be my breeding bitch, make sure your seed impregnates me."

That was all it took for Aemond to finish inside you while you had bit into him, breaking the skin and drawing blood from his skin. If he had wanted to do this with you, he had to face the consequences of his actions.

You were beyond fucked now, your second orgasm had done a number on you and you had all but collapsed on Aemonds lap, his cock still inside you, not prepared to lose the feeling of your cunt spasming. "Didn't think something like this could get me off so much." You giggled.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you in a crown, I would like mine back." Aemond's hands hadn't left your hips, and you could tell by his tone alone he was teasing you.

"Did you enjoy our little adventure? I think I may have overdone it slightly, but who knew I could get you so riled up?" You hadn't comprehended the cuts on your knees left from the cursed throne.

"I enjoyed it very much, my love, not the idea of you fucking Aegon, but the rest was rather enjoyable." Aemond was just as  — if not, more spent than you were. In his tired haze, he had left kisses upon your shoulder, as if to soothe you from climbing down from such a high peak.

"When I had said I want your heirs I had meant it, I doubt I'll be drinking moontea tonight or any time in the near future." You were delirious, Aemond had thought, spouting nonsense. "Do you think Aegon will mind we used the throne in such debauched acts?"

"It is Aegon, I doubt he hasn't done it himself. Unlike his whores, I actually care what state you leave in." You knew he was referring to your now cut up dress and overall appearance, yet you couldn't bring yourself to care. Instead, you continued basking in the closeness of your two bodies together. If anything, you were happy you married Aemond despite your short period of a fuck session on the throne, you would not choose to sit there again.

this was an elaborate roleplay scenario between aemond and reader i played y'all lmao. as always, thank you for reading! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. also this is by far the filthiest thing i've ever written and sub!aemond was interesting to tackle. crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

@lovelykhaleesiii @ilikeitbetterangsty @fairysluna

[laufire]

This is redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog, returning fire with the character ask game :3

For Jason: 23. Fav picture of this character 24. What character from another fandom reminds you of them? 26. Freebie question! What do you think his complicated opinions about Heathclif would be? (Saw ur tags about that hehehe)

I might come back with other characters, but just Jason for now cause it's WAY passed my bedtime

Fav picture of this character

there are so many options... (see: my header of his hamlet moment). but I'm going to go with this one, from batman annual #25.

I fucking love a character climbing out of his own grave. and that lightning bolt is so frankenstein of him <3

What character from another fandom reminds you of them?

my mind is wired to draw parallels and comparisons, and I happen to be rewatching a tv show (the 100, one of those "it could be so good if it was good" things xD) where sometimes it seems that all my favourite characters have some jason-coded moments and traits lol.

BUT. among all of them, we definitely need to talk about john murphy!!! he's my #1 in that show (with some strong competition), because I love his journey. he really started being... well, what dc regularly tries to convince us robin!jason was: a mean, angry teen, product of his society, who lashed out at people once he could, because he had been wronged himself. this show gave him far more grace about it (even during his messy revenge quest lol), and in season 2 they landed on a really potent love story with him and another character, emori (another outcast in her own society, this time because she was born with a mutation, that survived by stealing from others) that ended up catapulting him to Romantic Hero status in a way s1!murphy couldn't have dreamed of lmao. it was great.

even his backstory (which he's given in the first episode of s2) is. very jason añdslkfjasf. two important things about this gifset is a) the girl here, raven (another favourite), has a similar backstory (alcoholic mother who failed to take care of her, raven would've starved if not for the kindness of her neightbour & childhood sweetheart). she's taunting murphy because a few episodes before murphy shot her in the spine (he didn't intend to hurt her but it wasn't exactly an accident. part of his messy revenge quest against a -barely- adult who failed him lol). she hates him, and yet she clearly can't help but empathise </3. a few episodes later she tries to get him killed to save her ex <3. in a few seasons they'll become best friends <3. as far as I'm concerned she's memori's third <333

a few other things in favour of "jason-coded murphy" are this post, or the fact that at one point murphy had to use sex to survive in a way I personally headcanon jason doing (I've actually drawn some comparisons between that plot and nightwing/tarantula but only stylistic ones; plot-wise it's a very different situation where he displays an attitude closer to what I imagine jason doing).

What do you think his complicated opinions about Heathclif would be?

alñsdkfjasdf I can't believe I'm going to talk more about other characters than about jason but here we are lol.

anyway first of all, unlike many people in this fandom, jason is a smart cookie capable of differentiating fact from fiction, who could recognise heathcliff did some really fucked shit against undeserving people and still appreciate the hell out of him as the fascinating character he is. tyvm. that said, he's also someone who gets very personal about literature xD

one thing about heathcliff is that he does what some people argue jason is doing when he "targets" tim or mia (or damian, but that's bftc and fandom has more or less accepted that it's a mess, and also damian isn't white :))). aka, he's (a grown man!!) viciously, hatefully going after innocent children for the sins of their fathers!! for shame. sorry but that's not even true in bftc or hush (the situations there were very messy and the writers desperately needed medical consultants to make them make any sense, get off his dick xD), but definitely not true for titans tower or seeing red. jason was NOT trying to kill these teens (a few years younger than him at most), he's never wanted them death, and he's never even aimed to caused grievious, irreparable damage. again, get off his dick :P

but it's interesting to me thinking about jason reading the book for the very first time during the lost days era, in particular. he would empathise with heathcliff's desire for revenge, but I don't think he'd ~relate as strongly to him as some people think. yes, there is mistreatment in their youths and the revenge plot (after heathcliff does whateve he does in his own lost days period lol); there's even possible racial ambiguity in common, if we take into account the shiva thing. and he'd half-mindedly draw some links between bruce and earnshaw senior and, if he's feeling ungenerous lol, between dick and hindley, but nothing particularly strong, imo.

but I can see even this faint link being enough to have him pondering his own lines, what he's willing to do once he returns and what he isn't. and it's a fact that jason crossed some of his own purported lines, because he was too in his head about bruce or because they were convenient at the moment or because of all other reasons. and I picture him rereading the book years down the road, and grappling with that fact. wondering if heathcliff had drawn his own lines beforehand or gone all in from the beginning, wondering if he had any regrets. eta: it's interesting that he goes about his revenge in a very different way than heathcilff, who does it by becoming a legitimate (ymmv) landowner himself, one of the privileged, the top dog in a system, etc., and abuses his newfound poewr that way.

anyway. otherwise, he would appreciate heathcliff as the force he is in the narrative, while being utterly disgusted by some of his actions. at the same time he'd be really wary of the unreliable narration (I imagine him thinking nelly gives all the lintons too much grace, even if he obviously would think heathcliff's actions towards isabella and cathy are undefensible). I also believe he's ready to fist-fight anyone that supported the "monstrous" readings of heathcliff as something inhuman, as some supernatural force of nature. heathcliff, to him, is utterly human.

ALSO. jason is definitely that bitch who reads the FUCKING UNHINGED SHIT (x, x, x, x, x) catherine and heathcliff say about each other and be like. why can't that be me 😭. he's fucking unwell.

(and feel free to ask me about any other character you want! or any extra questions about jason lol)

[storiesofsvu]

happy thursday friends it's law and order night, you know the drill..

Hot damn that was one cold open jfc OC…

It really is such a shame how much I adore all of the characters on this show… except for one… take your guess…

Uh… Isabel Gillies in the credits… okay.. so… flashback?

I appreciate that they’re using the same ME as SVU.

“he certainly was in over his head” PLEASE. Bell’s face. I live for her expressions/reactions to stabler because same girl, same.

Sorry… I don’t have my subtitles… did the bx9 guy actually get let out for one night?? Im so lost.

I really need to pay more attention, one second and im so lost on whats going on…. Where the fuck is stabler taking his mom?? To a stakeout?? Why is she in the car and not just staying in the apt??

“I couldn’t see anything if I stayed in the car” mood. Bernie’s gotta know all the tea… same girl… same… this is the second week in a row that she’s been out here solving crimes before Elliot could… LOL…. We stan

WHAT THE FUCK

HOW DARE THEY END IT LIKE THAT

BRUH

**

Mothership:

Not gonna lie… am likely gonna ignore this ep until Sam shows up so I can get some writing done…

Update… I got like a paragraph done and did not pay attention at all… sorry not sorry.

Did manage to catch sam being a bad ass and calling Nolan out on his shit as per usual though.

**

Svu

Uh…. Pretty sure that bus would not have went up that fast… or exploded… at least not from that spot…

All the detectives swap between using first names and last names yet I don’t think ive ever heard someone call Muncy “Grace”…

Wait… those *aren’t* her parents?? Im so confused. Or are they just parents and chaperones? I did think that it was weird if they were parents why they weren’t in the same room as her

OH okay, so they were just chaperones. She just got to drive down with them cause she’s the only girl? Or?

Awoop. Jump scare. I figured it was the male chaperone but the woman was in there too??? Jfc…

Olivia benson saying “good girl” mommy please

“give parker what he’d been waiting for”

Aaaand I just threw up in my mouth

 I do not know the name of this defence attorney (the black girl who always looks bomb) but I’m pretty sure she’s 3.0’s rita based on wardrobe alone. (sophie was 1.0’s rita). Hopefully we get to see her actually in court this week?

A green PANTSUIT?!? MA’AM PLEASE THE WAY TO MY HEART

Also Carisi looks bomb as per usual.

I swear to god… if they put Muncy in another goddamn flannel and don’t have her be queer in any way… it will not make sense…

Jesus this white suit is incredible. Svu putting all their budget towards her wardrobe now hey?

Okay. Yeah. This bitch is my new favourite and definitely rita 3.0. they’re friends… I just know it. Lots of shopping together.

“who drops out of Harvard?”

“don’t ask me I set a bus on fire.” Get this girl an emmy for that delivery alone. Omg. Best line of the episode…

The CASUAL LEAN against the witness box?! PLEASE. Ms Calhoun invented that. This bitch learnt tricks from her I just know it (girlfriends?! Wives?! Could they be secret wives PLEASE??)

PLEASE she’s even doing the same table brace thing rita does…

Carisi really just referred to his *wife* by her last name… old habits die hard? LOL.

Okay…that was a good ep. Probs cause we actually went to court.

[libidomechanica]

Where applied

My handsome have turn’d some season?     But I will, I neuer thence the bed baith large a flight! Life     should! Soon as Thou or I. Only tarry, ’ and sees herself,     and small grace, incensed with his we know the market, one self     she rough, and palsied fan

of thyself thus earliest birds:     pleasures were confounds with love the drunken wing. ’Er had my     Cupids dart scrutinizing snake or scorn to flee from me.     Till I noted into missed, embrace me sit; nor can be     hugged, or on trains. Who was

talk’d together with awe; the ends,     blood before the Root he great gift of Heaven—from the basin     Well: Love and with dim and brush the fair a church’s seat, might     be displease it. The might have me too, they came; but beauty     bright to grant, in brief is

like tyranny. By measuring     wanted Sword, a Cloud of Allah, whose pleasures which we need     not: and Line, and mankind on the Mourners of ecstatic     office that my memory. Where done! Than a clocker, monstrous     males stood, in sight with

his Arrow frankincense to say,     maiden, you weep it with our Feet: unborn create Earth’s     burial. Some religion, are love is turn’d aside: where are     their most enjoy. Stranger, pass each pull’d differing for different     several prepared at

her favourite position, made     the Vine to the Banquet Hall lives on: nor all but use? Shall     of pity to be, to have it. The Snake: for not always     had to shame, and rage, dancing undergo; both many a     wede: yet, trust the better

things on flowres, till the rain; I     shall seasons, and she’ll adored false women use, or done,     Salámán still wither’d thine heart. Probes wounds of thy Tears were and     the morn of life enioys, exild for a kiss, I put man’s     cause for it mens follies

mote be foes by far most even     then, flying from honest snatch’d the kingdom of the Hand to     the sun assuage in there, Pastora by a token. Sudden,     perhaps from the here ages gathered coucht, makes him of     Reckoning so prevailings.

[blondrichclosetwitch]

She'll change your whole damn life, you just watch one of her vids

I'll go out of my way to prove I still smell her on you

Don't tell me what I wanna hear

I’ll tell you all my secrets

And if anybody fucks with you

They fuck with me

And I was talking to you and I knew then it would be a life long thing

I got the voodoo for you bitches

Whole crew’s In here, cause I don’t even know who I’m-a lose this year

Throw off your shame or be a slave of the system

You like to dance to the rolling head of the adulteress

Moving with grace the men despise, and women have learned to lose

One more lost soul to raise your flag

We know it’s not Caroline

Should’ve been over for me

You know that I can breathe even when I cheat

I don’t think you even know what you think you just said

Just tell the DJ

To play your favourite tune

Then you know it's okay

What you found is happening now

True love waits in haunted attics; just don’t leave (the minute changed on 31/34)

Song for my father (mother stands for comfort, father is absence)

Things are tougher than we are

She's a griever, my believer

It's not a fever, it's a freezer

I believe her, I'm a griever now

l am Calling You

Can't you hear me

l am Calling You

That's not the way the world really works anymore.

We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you are studying that reality - judiciously, as you will - we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out.

We're history's actors, and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do.

If I'm gonna get back to you someday, I'll need you light.

I might never be normal again

And there's only so much you can take

Cause they're earning me lots of money

Writing comedy prose for radio shows

I loved you from the start and not all the prayers in the world could save us (37/36)

12th Soundscape

Are harnessed in slums but they want to be free

“Lay it on heavy and make the wrong size fit.”

How much do I not give a fuck?

Let me show you right now 'fore you give it up

He'll give us what we need

It may not be what we want

Baby girl tryna get a nut

And her girl tryna give it up

Chopped'em both down

Don't judge 'em, Joe Brown

Slip and I fall and I die

Symphonie concertante 3

And you find something to wrap your noose around

And there's nothing like a mad woman

We will not let you go (let me go)

State of love and trust as I busted down the pretext

Sin still plays and a-preaches, but to half an empty court

Sacrifice receiving the smell that's on my hands

And I listen for the voice inside my head

I just want to feel everything

My eyes can’t see but my mind wants to cry out loud

I get undertones of sadness when I think about the moments that I never got to spend with you

Darling, you will bury me before I bury you

Wanted a woman, never bargained for you

You hurt and abused, tellin' all of your lies

The worst little woman I once ever had

Tongue wag so much when I send you the bill

Something in you brought out something in me that I've never been since

That part of me that was only for you

Here we go again (hi john Henry)

Lots of people talking, few of them know

“My face turned to stone when I heard the news.”

I lost my mind

And nobody believes me

But all I do is write about him

Bury parents in a moment's time

I've seen your drugs and they don't look so good

Love is blind.

Baby be good do what you should, you know it will be alright

And when the battle was done I was promised my son

Hold on

when at last, life on earth is through I will spend eternity with you

“It was just a game.”

[tontattletale]

“pall mall”

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader ~ mention of children, mention of pregnancy, reader is a tiny ball of energy

word count: 1.1k

Spending time at Aubrey Hall was your favourite time of the year. After enduring the social season in the city, having to act submissive and genteel, the country provided you with some much needed space to breathe.

You and Benedict spent a lot of time at his ancestral home, instead of staying at your own country house not so far away. And now that the two of you had children, it was nice for them to spend time with all of their aunts and uncles as well as their grandmother.

Your son was just 3 years old, having been born a year into your marriage with Benedict, and your little girl followed at just nine months old. They were the most beautiful children you had ever met, although you may have been biased.

And now you had brought them to Aubrey Hall once more for the annual Bridgerton pall mall game. When Benedict brought you for your first ever game with the family, that was when he realised truly how well you fit in with his family.

He remembered so clearly the glint in your eyes and the way you had jumped up and down with glee each time you hit your ball through a wicket. He also remembered the look Anthony gave him when he caught Benedict staring at you with a small smile on his face; it was one of approval.

This year, however, your family was joined by the Sharmas, Lady Mary, Miss Kate and Miss Edwina, accompanied by Lady Danbury, who was rather a large fan of yours after quite a few drinks in her den of iniquity.

You and your husband, in-laws and guests all stood about preparing for the game after Kate had taken Anthony’s so-called ‘mallet of death’. You placed yourself in front of Benedict, the hand not holding his mallet snaking around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I like this one,” you announced smirking in Kate’s direction, “she’s feisty.”

“I’m sure she would be no match for you, my love,” Benedict replied, his tone teasing. “I have after all been on the receiving end of your rather… spirited nature many a time. I should know.”

You gasped playfully and spun around in his arms to face you husband, lifting your mallet in the air with a mock-threatening expression.

“Take mercy on me!” your husband exclaimed, pretending to shield himself from your wrath.

“Hmmm…” you contemplated. “I suppose I must yield if I am not to leave our children fatherless. What a shame…”

It was a favourite pastime of yours to tease your husband so, and it had become an integral part of your marriage. The playfulness between you served you well.

“Where are the little devils anyway?

You thwacked Benedict’s chest with the back of your hand at him calling your darling children ‘devils’.

“William is inside playing with Gregory and Hyacinth. Hyacinth is rather fond of him now that he is old enough to run around with them. And Ada is napping with Grandma Violet.”

“I suppose if the children are not here to watch…” Benedict began, a smirk forming on his delectable lips. “It means that I am free to do this.”

He caught your lips in his, engaging you in a sweet kiss that grew more passionate as his tongue worked its way into your mouth. With two children it was hard to find time for each other during the day.

But that simply meant that your romance continued during the night, only hoping that Ada would make it through the night without being brought to you by her nanny to be fed or calmed, as you had opted not to seek out a wet nurse.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Eloise called, causing the two of you to break away from each other with cheeky smiles gracing your slightly swollen lips. “Are you going to play or not?”

You chuckled at your sister-in-law’s impatience, grabbing Benedict’s hand and dragging him along to join the rest of your family.

The game of pall mall went along as it always did; Colin bashing everybody’s balls out of the way, you and Eloise teaming up defeat her elder brothers, Anthony not being as solid a shot as he thought himself. And while her sister was very much enjoying the game, Miss Edwina did not seem to be having as much fun.

“You seem to have lost your good aim, Y/N,” Colin said, after your ball had gone just wide of the wicket.

You gasped dramatically, holding a hand to your chest in offence.

“I can assure you, Colin, that I have not lost anything.”

“Not yet.”

“It is these blasted gloves,” you replied, tugging at the blue garments on your hands. “They do not allow me to get my grip correctly.”

“Of course not, Y/N,” Anthony joined in, leaning his elbow on the top of his mallet. “I am sure that your win four years ago was not accomplished by mere chance,” he teased.

“I shall have you know that Daphne only pipped me to the last wicket last year, and i was in my sixth month of pregnancy with Ada.”

Anthony held his hands up in surrender and Kate chuckled beside him. You sent her a wink and returned your focus to removing your gloves.

“Allow me, my love,” Benedict said as he dropped his mallet and got down in one knee in front of you. He gently took your gloves from your hands and began to leave gentle pecks up along your arm.

You giggled at his actions, but you could hear Eloise groaning behind you.

“Would you two stop being so sickeningly in love?” she asked incredulously. “I cannot possibly fathom how any of us have withstood witnessing your affections for the past four years.”

You took your gloves out of Benedict’s hands and left a small kiss on his lips before you hurried along to join Eloise and find where you had hit your ball.

Benedict watched you go with a lovesick smile on his face as he sauntered over to Kate and Anthony who were stood together, Miss Edwina off to the side with Daphne

“You make a beautiful couple, Mr Bridgerton,” Kate told him, as they watched you cheer on Eloise as she hit her ball through the wicket.

Benedict smiled and was about to answer with thanks but he was interrupted by Anthony.

“You say that now…”

Benedict smacked his brother round the back of the head ready to retort when the three of them heard your cries of joy. As they looked over to the sound, they saw you and Eloise spinning around and your ball just past the last wicket.

“I look forward to dinner with those two,” Kate chuckled.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

---------

It was bright and early when Daphne woke up the next morning. She had things to do and no time to waste. The sun was shining through her window, the weather finally starting to get warmer. She put on some leggings with a tank top and then her zip up hoodie over it. She groaned at her hair in the mirror as she dragged her brush through the unruly locks. So many times she considered cutting it so it wasn't so much work, but she knew she'd regret it. Instead, she settled on tossing it up into a high pony and ignoring it. Her trusty backpack was slung around her shoulder and she hopped around as she put her vans on before leaving the apartment. 

She squinted slightly at the light once she got out of the building but it didn't deter her. First stop. Coffee. One large latte to go later, she was on her way to see Brett to find out what news he might have. She tossed her now empty cup in the trash can beside the station before she jogged up the steps and inside. She never checked in with the desk, she was a ghost when she was here. That's how it worked. It wasn't such a secret anymore than she was on Brett's payroll which left her to come and go as she pleased, but officially, she was never there. When she walked into the office area, Brett was sitting at his desk just like the day before. He looked like he hadn't even gone home.

"You look like shit," she mused teasingly, putting down the other coffee she'd gotten for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of it and he gave her a tired smile. 

"You're an angel," he muttered with a long pull from his drink as she sat down. The coffee at the precinct was the worst and never really did its job. 

"Any news yet?" She tried to hide the impatience in her voice but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Actually, we do have something. Not quite sure the full details yet though," he murmured. She looked at him expectantly.

"The people we rescued, their fingertips were burnt right off just like the last time. We can't identify most of 'em until they're fully coherent. But they're doing alright. I just can't believe the Chinese were at it again right under our goddamn noses," he fumed, taking another slurp of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised. They probably picked it back up when the heat turned off them again," she sighed. She hoped that once the victims were in a better state they'd be able to get names from them. Some of them might have family that were looking for them.

"Anything from the device?" She asked hopefully

"Yeah, actually. The Chinese requested the meet. They were pretty vague about a lot of shit but they kept saying something about the Italians having a weapon and they wanted to use it. Seemed to be brokering a deal about it. I got no idea what the hell this weapon is, but the Chinese really fucking want it and the Italians already have it. And that makes me nervous as shit," he frowned. 

It made her nervous too. What did the Italians have that the Chinese couldn't get for themselves? And why did they want it? 

"Well that's unsettling," she huffed with a shake of her head.

"Tell me about it. Good news though, that device you planted must be well hidden. It’s still live and active," he flashed her a grin and she smiled herself as she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Do you think it'll be useful?" She inquired.

"No telling yet. I mean mostly it'll be the kitchen staff but it might pick up something. Any other meets we might not be aware of or anyone saying something. Even something small can lead to something big, right?" He smirked, practically quoting her. It made her chuckle. 

"At least that's something. If we can figure out what weapon the Italians have we can figure out how bad this all is," she said softly. It made her nervous and she had a feeling things would get messy soon in Hell's Kitchen. 

"Here's hoping. There ain't much for you to do with the case right now but I'll let you know when we get any more information. It's just a waiting game now," he replied.

"Ah, my favourite," she smirked sarcastically, causing him to snort. She wasn't known for having patience. She liked answers and she liked them immediately. But in this case, playing the long game would be the only option to getting to the bottom of it all.

She bid her goodbyes to him not long after that before making her way back out into the sunshine. Now it was her next pit stop. A short cab ride later and she was at a very fancy luxurious home. It was more like a mansion and was three stories high. It looked like it was right out of a movie with one of those grand entrances and a water feature out front. She was well out of place as dressed down as she was but she knocked on the door anyway. She wasn't even surprised when a butler answered the door.

"Can I help you, miss?" The older man asked softly. His black and white uniform was crisp and clean and it put her own rumpled clothes to shame.

"I'm here to see Mrs Grimes. I'm Daphne Weaver," she replied awkwardly. 

"One moment please," he shut the door and she quirked her brow at how formal all this was. This better pay well. Suddenly the door opened again and he smiled at her.

"This way please. She's been hoping you'd come," he seemed a little friendlier now. Maybe it was because his boss wanted her here so he wasn't all suspicious of what she wanted. Either way, she followed him inside. He led her up the huge ass staircase, the kind that split off at the middle. Everything looked like it cost a million dollars, from the art to all the rare looking things in cabinets. She didn't even feel worthy enough to touch the banister so she kept her hands in her hoodie pocket. 

The carpet was lush and a deep purple colour and she found her eyes wandering the hallway they walked down. How many rooms does someone need? No wonder she had staff, upkeep on this place would be a ball ache. They reached a room far down the left and he knocked on the heavy looking mahogany door.

"Enter," a female voice rang out. It was slightly accented but she couldn't place it. Jeeves opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. She glanced around the room curiously as she walked in. It was a living area with a grand fire. Heavy bookcases lined the walls of the room and were filled with what looked to be antique books that Daphne found herself wanting to look at. There was a giant fur rug in front of the fireplace with velvet looking sofas set in front of it. 

That's where Mrs Grimes was sitting, looking perfectly in place for where she was. She was wearing a long black dress, heels bigger than anything Daphne could ever walk in. Her greying blonde hair was neatly coiffed and pinned up and she was dripping in diamonds. Jesus. 

"Pleasure to meet you Ms Weaver, please sit," she smiled warmly at her, gesturing to the other sofa. Daphne was half worried her vans would dirty the goddamn carpet as she padded over and plonked down. Despite it being completely over the top and not really her taste, she did appreciate however how clean and neat everything was kept. A place like this could easily fall into being cluttered and dusty but it was pristine. She supposed the staff were to thank for that. Mrs Grimes' nails were so long she doubted she could do much cleaning herself. Daphne wasn't sure how she didn't accidentally gauge her own eyes out.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely. Jeeves was still hovering near the door no doubt waiting for his command. She was tempted to say yes to see what kind of beverages the other side drank, but she didn't want to stay long.

"Uh… no thank you. I'm fine," she replied with an awkward smile.

"Very well. Hammond, leave us," she dismissed the man at the door. He gave a dramatic nod before he left and shut the door behind him. She idly wondered if he ever wanted to punch his bosses when they commanded him to do things like that. She'd never be able to hold a job like that down.

"I'm glad you came, I was worried you wouldn't," the older woman started, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

"A job's a job," Daphne snorted lightly, her hands still stuffed in her pockets lest she touch something and ruin it. Mrs Grimes gave her a tense smile, looking like it was difficult to be polite. Maybe she wasn't used to the lower class being in her home. 

"Indeed it is. Will you take the case?" She asked hopefully. 

"Yeah, I'll be able to do it. As I tell all my clients, I don't give out time frames. I never know how long it'll take me to find what I need or what roadblocks might come up. I don't appreciate impatience and it doesn't make me work any faster," she said firmly. Establishing boundaries was the first thing she liked to do. It was important. Especially with the wealthy ones as in her experience they tended to be the impatient ones with their self importance.

"Very well. I accept your terms. And please, whatever you find, do tell me," she implored. Daphne nodded, she always did no matter how shitty the information she'd gained was. Mrs Grimes stood, walking somehow with grace and ease in those monster heels as she walked over to a cupboard near the wall. She opened a drawer and came back with some paper.

"Me and my husband used to be very much in love. And I'm afraid now that I'm older he's decided to find other companions. Call me paranoid but I'm sure you understand when to look into a gut feeling," she mused as she walked back over and sat down. Daphne nodded again. Her gut was rarely wrong and it was telling her that Mrs Grimes was right.

"I want confirmation. I want to know who with and how deep it runs. If it's just physical or something more. I want to prepare myself should he try to divorce me and take what I have. I need proof," she stated seriously. Daphne's eyes subconsciously swept across the room and all the fancy things in it.

"I know what you're thinking. And I was the one with money, not him. He makes a decent amount with his job but I was born with money. This house was passed through my family for generations. Everything in it I bought. But over the years I've had my eyes opened to how greedy my husband can be. I cannot trust if we separate that he won't try to take everything from me," she sounded bitter and Daphne wasn't surprised. They definitely sounded like they had issues and once trust was gone in a relationship, everything else had no foundation to stand on. It wouldn't last. She commended the woman for thinking ahead to make sure she was protected if it came down to it. This kind of bullshit was why relationships were too much work.

"I'll find out what I can. I'll be honest, some of my methods aren't quite… legal. But it gets the job done," Daphne muttered. Things like breaking and entering were definitely illegal and then there was hacking if she ever needed to do it, which in this case might prove useful.

"Good," Mrs Grimes smirked at her. She found herself smirking back at her. The rich typically didn't care too much about how she got the information, just that she got it. Mrs Grimes reached down to her Gucci purse, setting it on her lap and she grabbed something out of it. It was her wallet and Daphne was curious what her offer would be. She hadn't spoken to her about price points yet and when it came to her wealthier clients she made a point of waiting to see what their offer would be first. Usually she’d haggle a little just because she could. They'd have the money and they wanted the information. 

She watched with a keen eye as Mrs Grimes took a chunk of money out and handed it to her. A quick count told her it was $1000 and it took effort for her eyes to not bulge out as she kept a cool calm facade.

"That's the deposit. You'll get the rest when the work is complete. Another $1000. I may give you more depending on just how much you find out," she drawled. So she wouldn't need to haggle then, this price was insane and way more than what the job would entail, but like fuck she would tell her that. She also appreciated the incentive. She liked a challenge, something to work towards. The more she found out then the more she'd get paid. 

"Sounds good to me. I'll get started in the next few days," she replied, keeping her calm demeanour and not acting like she was thinking of what she would spend her money on once she got it all. She carefully stuffed it in her backpack before zipping it back up. She almost jumped when the older woman dinged a bell beside the table and it took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes as the butler walked in.

"Yes, Mrs Grimes?" He enquired politely. 

"Please see Ms Weaver out. Have one of our drivers drop her off to wherever she needs to go," she commanded softly. Part of her wanted to protest but the other wanted to pretend she lived the fancy life, even if just for a moment. 

They both stood and Mrs Grimes took her hand in one of those fancy people hand shakes that were flimsy and light. 

"It was a pleasure, Ms Weaver. I hope to hear from you soon," she smiled. 

"Likewise," she replied, not really knowing what to say. No matter how many well off clients she saw she always felt weird and out of place interacting with them.  She followed Jeeves out the hall and down the large stairs case. He stopped when he got by the front door and picked up a phone that was attached to the wall. She stood there looking around as the man spoke in hushed tones down the receiver before hanging up and then opening the grand front door. 

"Have a lovely day, Ms Weaver," he bowed politely.

"Uh… you too," she murmured as she stepped outside. 

The door shut with a clang behind her and she was suddenly on her own outside. It didn't last long though as a large black car pulled up right at the entryway.

"Ms Weaver?" A man called out after rolling the window down. She nodded and walked over. She was getting sick of being called that name. The man hopped out, jogging over to the back of the car and opening the door for her. This really was fancy service. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, not used to this level of service from anyone. It felt wrong almost. But she slipped inside and settled in the ridiculously comfy car seats. 

"Where to, Miss?" The man asked once he was situated behind the wheel again. 

"Um… Fogwell's gym please," she murmured in response. He punched in something on the phone he was using with the GPS and then he took off. There was a reason she was dressed the way she was after all. She didn't want to think of Matt being a weird asshole the day before. As much as part of her considered not going, she really needed to train and she knew he would be there. She was too stubborn to let Matt's weird PMSing get in the way of her learning to defend herself properly. 

The drive was uncomfortably silent and she clutched her backpack on her knees. She wondered what it was like to live this life full time. She was a bitch but she didn't feel right with commanding people to do shit, even if she was paying them. It just felt off to her. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the gym. She almost felt like she should pay him or something, totally not used to this kind of exchange. As she unbuckled her seat belt, the man got out and ran around to her door. He opened it and she slipped out, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he looked at the rundown gym.

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked quietly, like he was asking her to blink twice if she needed help. She almost snorted but gave him a polite smile. She guessed his boss wasn't used to being around places like this. She appreciated his sentiments all the same though.

"I'm sure," she said softly. He nodded, still looking unhappy about it but there was nothing he could do. With a nod, he was back in the car and taking off by the time she walked through the door.

She was quiet and heard loud grunting and the hits of a punching bag. As she came into view, she saw Matt beating the holy hell out of the bag. His fists were flying, grunts and pants leaving his lips with the flurry of punches. The graceful savagery was what always intrigued her about him. But then typically he'd open his mouth and ruin it. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet once again which honestly was perturbing since anyone could come in here and sneak up on him like that. She walked over to the bench, setting her backpack down with a thud. The grunts and punches stopped instantly and the only sound that echoed in the gym was Matts heavy breathing.

"Didn't think you'd show," he said carelessly. 

"I wasn't sure either honestly. But I need to train, even if I do have to put up with your bitch ass," she muttered as she started wrapping her hands. He scoffed as he came over, grabbing his water bottle and drinking a large pull from it. He tossed the bottle down again as he made his way to the ring.

"Alright, come on then," he demanded. 

"What? I don't get to warm up first?" She asked skeptically with a raised brow. He snorted coldly and shook his head.

"You wanna know how to defend yourself for real, there is no warming up. When you're out there in a situation like this, you don't get that luxury," he retorted. She rolled her eyes but honestly couldn't argue with sound logic.

Instead, she bit her tongue as she put on the gloves and climbed inside of the ring. Matt cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they squared off with one another. 

"Let's go," he smirked devilishly. He lunged at her but she moved just in time, twirling around as they practically traded places. They started trading blows, although his were very clearly intended not to hurt her, and she was pleased she got some good jabs in. She didn't slow down or stop this time when he deflected or managed a light shot to her side. She just came back twice as hard. She was proud of herself. Her heart was thumping away from the adrenaline and the exertion of the sparring after a while and she leaned against the ropes as they both caught their breath.

"You did good. You're getting better," he sounded reluctant to give her the praise and she rolled her eyes a little at him.

"I want you to teach me how to get out of the hold from last time," she said firmly. His head turned to her then, his hazel eyes not quite landing directly at her as he narrowed them.

"Daphne, I don't think-" he started, only to be promptly cut off.

"It's fine. I need to learn and I'll get over it. I think I'll be fine this time," she urged. She meant it too. She still had lingering effects of her attack but she was feeling a little better recently. And after her and Matt's partially regrettable night together, she hadn't had a nightmare for the first night since it happened. She knew the sex had helped. Whenever she needed to feel better and clear her head, she would have sex. It's why her sister was so worried it would become a crux for her. Her sex with Matt had done wonders for her stress and anxiety over the whole thing so she felt like now was the perfect time to try to learn it. 

He was quiet for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He yanked his gloves off and tossed them out of the ring and she followed suit before he changed his mind. Climbing to the floor, she lay on her back and bent her knees just like the last time. As he knelt down between her legs, it was hard not to think of the night they shared together and how similar it was. 

"Ready?" He asked reluctantly. She gave him a firm nod he couldn't see but could sense and he brought his hands to her throat. Once again, he applied very little pressure but she lay perfectly still. Her heart wasn't hammering like crazy, she wasn't seeing Keiran hovering over her. She was fine. Matt stayed still as he did his head tilt thing and it took her a moment to realise he was listening to her heartbeat to check if she was okay or not. It was kind of creepy but she let it go. 

He talked her through the steps of how to get out of that kind of hold. One at a time he'd tell her what to do and correct her if she got it wrong as they did a slow mo version one part at a time to ensure she knew each step. It was more complicated than the last one but after a few step by step tries she thought she had a good idea on what to do. Now it was time to get out of it for real. 

"3, 2 ,1," he counted, preparing her somewhat so she didn't lose her shit like last time. This time he applied some pressure around her throat but it was still practically nothing. She felt his weight bearing down on her and she grabbed his right forearm with her left and then used her right hand to grip his left shoulder in a cross grip. Using her left foot, she pushed off his hip, pivoting her pelvis to the right so he was no longer directly above her. She hooked her right leg high up on his back, right under his armpit and she kept a firm grip on him as her left leg moved to wrap around his shoulder too, locking it onto her other. She grabbed his wrist, the one that was in her grip that was now at her mercy on her chest. She knew if she thrust her pelvis upwards sharply she would break his arm at his elbow. 

It had happened so fast but she caught herself before completing the maneuver and felt pleased with herself. She let go of his arm and rolled them over so he was now under her. They were both panting and she laughed lightly, feeling good she actually did it. She was a little sweaty and she looked down at where he lay under her. His brow had a slight sheen to his and his hair was doing that thing where it went every which way. His eyes were wandering as he caught his breath with a grin. She wasn't the only one enjoying their session it seemed. 

She felt his hands glide up her thighs that were around him and she'd be a liar if she said it didn't make her tingle. His unseeing eyes were burning into her, pupils blown wide. She went to move off him but he held her in place, only now she was hovering right in front of his face. One of his hands rested on the base of her neck and he pulled her down a little. She stayed still though and resisted as her lips were a breath away from his.

"We're not on the same page, remember?" She teased him, enjoying seeing him this worked up. She squeaked when her back hit the mat when he rolled them over quickly. She hadn't expected it. 

"I'm over it," he smirked devilishly at her before his lips collided with hers. 

She should have really stopped to think about it. To assess the validity of his words. But sex with Matt was something else and it made her feel amazing. All her stress and worries melted away last time. And although she knew going down that rabbit hole wasn't good with her past of sometimes becoming dependant on sex for her own mental well being, she couldn't really help herself. She blamed Matt for being insufferable and ridiculously attractive. The kiss was rough and demanding and she gave into him, moaning as he pushed himself against her through the thin fabric of their pants. He knelt up, tugging at his vest and lifting it over his head. Something dawned on her then.

"We're gonna do this here? What if someone walks in?" She snorted amused. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex in weird places but she didn't want some old dude walking in and getting a free show. He tossed his vest on the floor as he chuckled, jumping to his feet and climbing out the ring. She sat up, watching him curiously as he went and locked the door from the inside. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he prowled back to her though. The predatory grace he held, the way his sculpted body moved. In her needy and horny haze she found herself impatient for him to return and she felt like he was taking his time to tease her if his smirk was anything to go by. She pulled her shirt off and then her bra, tossing them in a heap beside them as Matt toed off his shoes. 

He knelt back down then, his hands curling her ankles and yanking them lightly. Her back hit the mat with a light thud and she looked up at him shocked before laughing. With a wicked grin, he pulled her leggings and panties off together but painfully slow and her desire was increasing with every second he made her wait for it. She wouldn't beg though. She sat back up, tugging at his shorts and he bent down, kissing her roughly as she yanked them down with his boxers. She fisted him tightly and he moaned into her mouth, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Letting go, she pulled the shorts and boxers all the way off him before pushing him onto his back. 

It was his turn to look mildly shocked and she climbed on top of him, her slick heat trapping his cock against his belly. His eyes were darting around her face and she leant forward, catching his lower lip with her teeth. He let out a long groan, arching up at her as she tugged it before letting it go with a pop. She sat up, pushing up on her knees before she gripped him and lined herself up. Without a word she sank down onto him and the pair moaned in relief. It was instant for her, that feeling of him filling her up like that. Knowing her release would come soon. She rested her hands on his firm chest for leverage as she started moving her hips. His hands felt like they were all over her body at once. Not soft or sweet, but firm and demanding and he took in every detail of her body. 

The gym was filled with moans and gasps as she rode him hard, her anger at his behaviour and the thrill of fighting with him fuelling her pleasure. She almost found it ironic that they were fucking in a boxing ring with how often they fought. He pulled her down roughly, lips smashing against hers as he ravaged her mouth. She felt that euphoric feeling getting closer, her whole body tingling in anticipation. She got faster and harder, chasing the release she was after like her life depended on it. 

"Don't stop," Matt groaned against her lips, one hand gripping the back of her neck while the other was on her ass, fingers digging into her flesh. She had no plan on stopping though. Not when she was this close. She kept up the pace and then she moaned loudly, her body tensing lightly as she clamped down around him. 

He let out the hottest fucking noise she’d ever heard a human make and it only heightened her own pleasure as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He was clinging onto her tightly, rutting up into her as he panted and then groaned, spilling himself inside of her. He relaxed instantly. Hands falling to his sides. She sat there on top of him as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair had started falling out of her ponytail. She was thoroughly fucked and in the best way. That beautiful feeling was coursing through her veins as she let the hormones and endorphins flow though her. 

She climbed off him carefully before standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," she hummed sounding blissful as she scooped up her clothes. She walked completely naked to the showers and got herself cleaned up and presentable. She didn't regret it, it was amazing and she felt good now. And from the sounds he made, he enjoyed himself too. She just hoped he meant it when he said they were on the same page. 

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

Matt stood in his own shower in the men’s changing rooms as he let the cold water pelt him. His brain was a fried mess and he leaned against the cool tiles as he tried to just think clearly. He wasn't sure why he'd done it again, not after last time. He couldn’t really say what had bothered him about the fact she left last time. He'd gotten out of the shower and went to his room and she was just gone. No words, no note, nothing. He knew it had been purely physical, they could barely tolerate each other. He wasn't stupid enough to think too deeply into it. Yet it left him feeling strangely hollow when she’d just left him like that.

And then when he had turned up to work, Foggy had been acting weird. After some pressure he'd told Matt about his conversation with Daphne. Matt was pretty sure he hadn't gotten the whole story from him but the gist of her saying it was just sex was clear. And he'd told Foggy she was right. It was a one time thing because of all their pent up anger and the adrenaline from the night they'd had. He told his best friend to stop thinking about it. Yet he hadn't been able to do the same. He'd ended up texting her using Foggy's phone to see if she would be home and then he went to see her. No rhyme or reason or idea why he was going there. All he knew was that it bothered him.

It wasn't like he’d never had casual sex before, although he couldn't say it happened much the last few years. And his inability to understand why he was feeling the way he was led to them fighting again. Because she was right. But he hadn't been able to let it go. So when he left, he told himself it wouldn't happen again. She was trouble and being around her wore him out. It wasn't worth it. So how did he end up here again? Oh that's right, apparently he'd turned into a horny teenager again. A bit of sparring, feeling her body against his and sensing how happy she was in the ring really fucked his hormones over. And now here he was again. Only this time it was his own fault. She’d actually turned him down and he'd been the one to push. He couldn't say he regretted it either. It was the best damn sex he’d ever had and it left him feeling more chilled out than he felt in a long time. He'd keep his mouth shut this time and not act like a teenage girl about it. He dug himself into this hole and now he had to climb his own way out. 

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

Daphne towel dried her hair as much as she could and it left it wavy. She scooped it up in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stands framing her face. The euphoric feeling she got after sex was easing but she still felt calm and settled. It was nice, she didn't get to experience it that much anymore. She really didn't want to have to face Matt, not knowing if he'd throw a tantrum like last time. She didn't want him to read into it again or act all weird about it. It really killed the vibe and ruined her good mood. She'd tried to stop it from happening, not wanting to deal with that again, but she hadn't been able to help herself when he'd wanted her so clearly. There was something addictive about it. But now she felt dread settle into her bones as she thought about how he would react. 

She took her sweet time getting dried and dressed simply to buy herself some time. But eventually she was done and she had to leave the changing room. As she walked out into the main part of the gym, Matt was sitting on the bench tying his laces. 

"Ready?" He asked softly. No awkward questions, no anger in his voice. Maybe he was on the same page now after all. She felt relief sweep through her, allowing her to enjoy the calmness that she'd been left with after their time together. 

"Yeah," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it over her shoulder. 

Matt grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. He was now wearing a hoodie too and he grabbed his glasses out of the pocket as he slid them onto his face. She wondered if he ever got sick of having to act blind. He was blind but not like the average blind person. He didn't really need the stick and she'd seen him 'bumping' into things like he hadn't known they were there before. When they stepped out into the sunshine, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Jesus christ! I think I've joined the blind club," she grumbled, rubbing her poor eyes. The sun just burnt the shit out of her retinas. He let out a surprised laugh, the door shutting behind them.

"Here," he grinned. She cracked a wary eye open, seeing him holding out his glasses to her, but she didn't take them.

"It's not like I need them,” he teased. It helped. She felt a little better. She slid them onto her face and her eyeballs thanked her immediately. They started walking down the street together and she glanced into a window as they walked by, looking at her reflection. She snorted at herself. Her hair, despite being recently washed and put up, was a wavy mess. Her cheeks were still rosy pink and the glasses looked weird on her face.

"They suit you," he mused playfully. She shoved him lightly, causing him to laugh when an older woman gasped at her actions.

"Assaulting a blind man in public? It's like you want to get arrested," he smirked.

"Yeah well, Foggy will be my lawyer so I'll be good," she quipped back with a grin. Now they were on the same page they seemed to be amicable after venting their frustration on each other. 

"You really think my best friend would take your side over mine?" He asked, faking being hurt as he held his hand over his heart. She stopped walking and he did the same as she looked at him.

"I hate to say it but I think he prefers me now. Not that I can blame him. You are a bit of an asshole," she grinned mischievously. He gaped at her before his hand darted out and went to grab the glasses. She squeaked, holding them in place as he tried to steal them from her face.

"You don't deserve my glasses," he snorted.

"Come on! I need my eyes, I'm not like you!" She whined pitifully. 

"And what's this?! My two favourite people, getting along nicely? Is the world ending?" A dramatic voice sounded from next to them. Both she and Matt stilled completely in a comical way before they took a step away from each other. Both of them looked caught out as they looked at a very smug Foggy.

"This is great! Better than great! I love this," he beamed like a kid on Christmas. Daphne groaned and glared at him from the glasses still perched on her face.

"Foggy, I swear! You want us to not kill each other when we're in the same room? Don't make a big deal about it when it happens," she huffed. 

"It is a big deal. You're both laughing and smiling together. This is huge. It's like a rare solar event or something," he defended. 

She resisted the urge to throttle him as Matt rubbed his temples. 

"Foggy," Matt warned lightly.

"Okay! I get it, I'm making it weird. This whole thing is new to you both and I'm just making it awkward," he soothed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"There is no 'thing'. We can't just actually have a moment where we get on with each other before you start trying to marry us off again?" She whined. 

"Marry us off? What?" Matt asked quickly, his head whipping to his friend. She snorted as Foggy's cheeks went a little pink and he shot her a glare 

"Oh, he didn't tell you he's the captain of ship Maphne?" She laughed loudly. She didn't care if Matt knew. It was ridiculous to her and she was getting payback on Foggy for being a little shit. 

"Maphne? Do I even wanna know?" Matt asked exasperated. Foggy shot her another look before standing up straighter.

"You know what, Daph, mock me all you want but this is the hill I'm choosing to die on," he pointed at her. Matt still stood there unsure of what they were even talking about. She opened her mouth for another retort that would no doubt embarrass Foggy further and also maybe make Matt uncomfortable which was a bonus, but Foggy beat her to it. 

"Anyway! I'm glad I caught you two, I have great news!" He beamed excitedly. She quirked her brows perplexed as he led them to a table outside of the cafe nearby. The three of them sat around it, Matt and Daphne watching their friend expectantly. 

"I finally asked Karen on a date!" He practically squealed. A splitting grin graced Daphne's face, unable not to be happy for him. During their many talks, he'd spoken about his feelings for the blonde and Daphne had always told him to go for it. 

"Aw, Foggy! You're growing up, I'm so proud!" She cooed, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He was so happy he just let her.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you," Matt smiled sincerely.

"I know, it's great right? I just finally bit the bullet. I just decided I need to stop being such a baby about it," he explained. He had a weird look on his face though, the same one that usually told her something going on.

"What is it?" Both she and Matt asked at the same time, him clearly picking up on Foggy's weirdness in his own way.

Foggy raised a brow at them both being in sync and she made a point to not even look at Matt so Foggy wouldn't go off on his Maphne tirade again.

"Well… I just… I panicked, okay? I set it all up and she knew I wanted to ask her something. But then I'm like, what if she says no? I mean it's just gonna be me and Karen. Alone. On a date," he uttered looking like a deer in the headlights.

"That's kinda the point, Foggy," Matt teased.

"I know it is. And I couldn't back out because she was just watching me, waiting for what I wanted to ask. I honestly felt like I was about to have a heart attack and I may have asked her on a date but told her it was a double date with you guys," he blurted, barely taking a breath as he did. 

Daphne blinked at him for a moment as her brain tried to digest his words.

"You did what?" Matt asked incredulously. Foggy made a pitiful noise and she took Matt’s glasses off and set them in the middle of the table, giving Foggy a look.

"A double date? Implying that me and Matt are actually also going to be on a date. Do you see the flaw in that plan?" She asked slowly, like she was talking to a child about why playing with matches was bad. 

"I know! Like I said, I panicked and that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" Foggy defended with a sigh.

"And Karen actually bought that?" Matt scoffed, gesturing with his hand to him and then Daphne.

"You're kidding right? She's all aboard this ship, she was actually excited about it," Foggy smirked. She kicked him under the table and he groaned. Matt's jaw ticked as he glared in his best friend's direction. 

"This isn't a joke, Fogg. All the shit you give me for keeping my secret from her and you're just lying right to her face about this?" Matt frowned. 

"That's completely different. Your secret is dangerous. This one isn't. For all she knows it's your first date too and after that it just didn't work out. Besides, it's not like you're not getting it on with each other, would it really be that hard to just pretend to be on one date?" He pleaded, looking from her to Matt.

"Yes," they both answered again.

"Please? I really need this. If I tell her you're not going she might cancel too. You two are like a buffer, help set the scene and put her at ease. I really like her, guys. I don't want to mess things up," he begged. 

"Foggy-" Matt started sternly, only to be cut off by Daphne. 

"Fine. But you're paying for dinner," she relented. 

Foggy smiled the widest grin she'd ever seen on a human and Matt turned to glare at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed incredulously.

"What? Didn't you hear him? He's our friend, Matt. Let's just do this for him. Besides, free dinner," she shrugged. Matt looked pissed and honestly it was a reward she hadn't expected. She'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to push his buttons. 

"This is ridiculous. You really think she's not gonna notice we can't stand each other once she's sat at a table with us for a while?" Matt glowered. He had a point but they could just try to be civil for Foggy's sake.

"You know what, Matt, I really hate to play this card but you left me no choice. You lied to me for the longest time and now I have to keep your secret. I already have to start a potential relationship with lies for you. Can't you just do this one thing for me? I never ask you for anything," Foggy muttered with a frown. 

A sly grin spread on her face at how underhand it was of Foggy. She almost felt like a proud parent as she watched a million emotions pass over Matt's face before defeat was all that was left.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't want you when this all blows up in your face. And you're paying for my dinner too," he huffed. Foggy looked more than pleased with himself. 

"Thank you! You guys are awesome. I'll even pay for your drinks if you actually try and act like you like each other and not make it awkward," he shot them both a toothy grin. 

"Hey, let me drink as much as I want and I'll make it really look like we're on a date," she smirked devilishly, a wiggle of her eyebrows and Foggy burst out laughing.

"Jesus christ," Matt muttered quietly with a shake of his head. 

"Deal," Foggy nodded firmly, "tonight at 8. It's the Mexican place near the firm," he instructed before he stood.

"Alright. I'm heading out, you coming with, Matt?" He asked, shooting his annoyed friend a look.

"Yeah. You go on, I'll catch up in a sec," he bit out. Foggy gave her a look and a smirk before he started walking away. 

"Really?" Matt glared at her, swiping his glasses from the table and shoving them onto his face. 

"What? Free food and as much booze as we want? Plus doing your best friend a solid? I know you're an asshole, Matt, but I thought you weren't that much of an asshole," she quipped dryly. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw tense as he pursed his lips.

"Fine," he stood up abruptly, gripping his cane before holding it in front of him. 

"You're doing this for Foggy. Don't fuck it up for him just because you've got a stick up your ass," she huffed as she stood up too. 

He shot her what she presumed was a dirty look behind his glasses before he started walking away, his cane swinging in front of him. His irritation about the situation only made her want to do it more. It was his own fault really for acting like such a bitch about the whole thing. He was asking for her to make it worse for him. She started walking home as a plan formed in her mind. She'd get nice food and decent booze and she'd get to piss Matt off in a setting he had to behave in. She was actually looking forward to it. 

As soon as she got home, she called their firm, knowing Karen would be the one to answer.

"Nelson and Murdock, Karen speaking," came the voice down the phone. Daphne trapped the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she tugged off her hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket.

"Hey Karen, it's Daphne," she said casually. 

"Oh! Hi!" She sounded genuinely happy to speak to her and she wondered why she'd never bothered to speak to Karen more since she was so close to Foggy and Matt.

"I know this is weird, we haven't really spoken much. But I wanted to ask a favour since we're going on a double date," she said carefully, flopping onto her sofa.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't tell the guys, it's kind of weird for me. It's just… this is mine and Matt's first date too and it's been so long. I was wondering if you'd help me get ready for the date? I wanna look really good. I mean I know he can't really see, but he just somehow knows these things, right?" She grinned, cringing at how hard she was going at this. She felt a tiny bit bad at lying to her but she ignored it. 

"Of course! I'd… I'd really love that. I'm nervous too and it'd be good to just have some girl time," Karen said softly. 

"Thank you, I really appreciate this. We could go to the restaurant together when we're done," Daphne smiled pleased with herself. After exchanging cell numbers and goodbyes, Daphne sat back on the couch with a smirk. She wanted to turn heads. Not only just to irritate Matt, using her knowledge of him finding her physically attractive against him, but it had been a while since she went out. Usually she did so with a goal in mind, to have sex. And she would turn heads, a lot of them. Tonight was different but it didn't mean her ego wouldn't enjoy being looked at. It certainly would be interesting. 

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | three.

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.1K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! heavy angst, social media bullying, mentions of drugs ( weed ), mentions of alcohol and drinking, angry jimin!

⇢ author’s note(s): hello my loves! sorry for posting this so late but i really hope you enoy this chapter. i might have to delay chapter four, for a special post in order of joon n koo’s birthday! love you lots.

⇢ previous | series masterlist | next

“park... you’re out, bail’s been paid.”

jimin rolls his shoulders at the call of his name, standing from his seat on the cold metal bench. he shakes out the blonde in his hair, deciding that the colour was too good and that he’d probably dye it a darker shade as soon as he was back in the safety of his penthouse. smirking, he grabs his discarded leather jacket... designer of course and slings it over his left shoulder— poking his tongue into his cheek as the officer unlocks his cell with a deep blush.

“you sure you don’t want to join me in here one last time sweetheart?”

the officer looks down, fumbling with the keys in her hand as a blush paints her heated face. “wouldn’t you get in trouble for that? another scandal wouldn’t be good for your career,” she bites down on her lower lip and the cat like smile on jimin’s face only grows wider— his forefinger and thumb touch at her chin, tilting her head up to meet his dark eyes as if he’s going to kiss her. “especially now that the paps are outside...”

he only lets out a simple tut, staring down at her with a hooded gaze. “you wouldn’t have a career if you opened that pretty little mouth of yours, sweetheart.” the cop falls silent, not having the chance to reply as jimin parts ways with her— collecting his belongings on the way out. inmates clap and cheer for him, although he’d only been in this station for a night, he’s already built up a reputation for himself around town...drunk driving, speeding, possession of drugs. park jimin was booked in for nearly all of it; but got away with it practically every time.

the sunshine from outside blinds the dancer, harsh golden rays warming his skin in the most irritating of ways. instead, he tilts his shades down over his eyes and way from the mass of bleach blonde hair that swoops messily over one side of his face. cameras are situated around the station, jimin knows that for sure, he can’t see them but he can hear the clicks and flashes from paparazzi that hide in bushes around them. they all want jimin for this week’s front cover, it’s only obvious that he’ll make the headlines for the fifth week in a row but who’s to say he cares? flashing a toothy grin as he flips the middle finger to sneaky photographers that pretend not to be seen.

“you’re so immature, jimin,” hoseok, his manager scolds, fixing the hem of his tight and light grey christian dior suit. the man himself is only a little ways taller than jimin, hair parted and slicked down with brown tinted shades that hide the tiredness in his eyes. hoseok is not that much older than jimin, but they’ve worked together long enough for jimin to consider the elder his family— or more like a pestering older brother. his manager pulls him into a sleek black van parked not even three minutes from the police station, the walk taking longer as jimin stopped to wave at fans. he was a dancer, a performer— it didn’t matter where he was, he always had an audience and he always appealed to them. “get in the fucking car.” hoseok seethed through gritted teeth, opening the door for his client, who only smiled mischievously as he entered it.

slamming the door, hoseok circled the vehicle and climbed in from the passenger  side. “what’s got you in such a sour mood hyungie?” jimin hums lazily, leaning back into the plush, cream leather seats of his mercedes while his manager tuts in annoyance— gesturing for their driver (and body guard), seokjin, to head towards the dancer’s gated neighbourhood. running a hand through his blonde locks, jimin’s caramel eyes light up at the sight of his day bag of which he carries around on a daily basis— diving in he pulls out a box containing a few of his rolled joints. grabbing one and bringing it to the flesh of his plump lips, jimin frowns darkly, at the lack of lighter in his bag. “the fuck his my lighter?”

“i took it,” hoseok mumbles simply, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the other twirling jimin’s pink lighter between his own slender digits. the younger leans forward in his seat, restricted only by his seatbelt as they make their way through the L.A traffic— making a grab for the lighter which his manager swiftly pulls away and pockets. “you’ve been acting up again jimin, it’s not looking good for you—“

the dancer in question lurches forward once more, making seokjin swerve ever so slightly. “give me the damn lighter hoseok.” jimin seethes through gritted teeth, the hand that launched at his manager now digging into said man’s head rest. anger flares up in the dancer’s chest— he’s just spent the night in a fucking cell and all he wants to do is have a few puffs of his joint so that he can relax a little.

but hoseok doesn’t budge, easily sinking into the comfort of his seat. “you can’t keep doing this ji,” he scolds, watching the scenery pass by through their tinted windows. “this is the third time in the last two months that you’ve gotten booked into a station for something...” the younger rolls his eyes knuckles turning white. the manager feels a temper tantrum coming on, from the way his client breathes hotly down his neck. jimin had never been good at managing his anger, no one had ever known why— he was a brat for no damn reason but hoseok sensed there was always more to the blonde, that’s why he took him in. “speeding? when you could have waited for jin to pick you up. not to mention how the company shouldn’t be putting their money towards paying for your bail—“

“money that i bring into that fucking company? they wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for me.” the younger points out childishly... and to be fair, he’s not wrong. people from across the world came to see park jimin perform— if they were lucky enough. his graceful movements and talent for following the music no matter how it changed was always something that entranced his fans. jimin was their biggest source of revenue and a major asset, one of the only reasons they hadn’t fired him yet— hoseok supposed. “i’m park jimin, shit...they need me!”

hoseok sighs in defeat as their bodyguard pulls into jimin’s gated neighbourhood. the brunette turns to face his client, a worn out expression pulling at his heart shaped face. “just think about it jimin, if you don’t fix up and don’t stop your bitch fits... it could be over for you.” hoseok hates to scold jimin like this but he also knows it important that he learns. he flinches when the dancer scoffs, begrudgingly pulling out the pink lighter and passing it to the latter.

the younger simply snatches the small device from his hyung’s grasp, brining his joint to his lips and lighting it as he slides from the car.

he didn’t need to think about shit, he was park jimin for goodness sake.

social media was an evil place.

jimin was used to all types of comments across his socials. he knew he was meant to be in the studio for practice, but he was too deep into the internet to turn back now. so more often than not he found that he was drowned is all sorts of praises and love from his fans, complimenting him on his skills, his physic and his oh-so-beautiful face but sometimes, if he looked hard enough— there were those full of hatred and malice, intended break down the souls of those they were targeted at, break the soul of park jimin.

‘i used to love jimin, but he’s getting caught up in all this bad stuff... we might have to unstan...’

‘he’s still a great dancer, but i’m disappointed in how he’s acted recently.’

‘why do celebs think it’s funny to get arrested? it’s fucking cringe especially since they can afford bail? lol no offence park jimin.’

each word cuts sharply at his heart, like knives, creating deep wounds. it hurts to read them, so much so that it brings stinging tears to his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall— he hadn’t in a long time. moments like these lead the blonde to believe in his hyung’s words, was he a has been? was his career coming to an end? familiar insecurities rot his brain, draining what was once left of the boy who loved to dance.

he takes a sip of the bitter, honey liquid that fills his crystalline glass, eyes blurring and throat tightening at the burn the alcohol brings. a filling pain to ease the hurt in his heart. ‘fuck,’ jimin thinks, he’s fucked and he knows it. the dancer wonders if he had been different had his brother not fucked up his life, the older park was probably off somewhere doing god knows what with who knows who and jimin can’t help but let his mind wonder to what he would be doing if his brother wasn’t there. if his brother hadn’t caused that accident. before that day, jimin only ever dreamed of where he is now— practicing hard wherever he was; the canteen in high school, his bedroom, the kitchen when his mother was making his favourite dish.

god he missed those days.

slamming his glass down onto his island counter, jimin stretches his arms above his head so that his black fitted shirt rises up— brushing his tummy briefly. the news hums from the TV in the background, as he sways with sleepiness. something about an accident, something about a skater...he’s not listening. sighing in defeat, jimin grabs the bottle of special edition brandy and takes a lengthy swig while he makes his way to his on-suite bathroom. the dancer’s nimble fingers brush through the roots of his overbearingly blonde locks, fisting them as he looks into the mirror with reddened eyes and a broken heart.

taking another sip of his liquor, jimin finishes the substance off with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest before throwing the bottle in the trash and opening his cabinet, reaching for the dark hair dye that sits on the middle shelf.

stopping his mercedes benz, jimin parks his car outside of hangsang studios, the dance company that hired the boy. his eyes that reflect black under the artificial lights of the street lamp flicker up to the company logo cast into the side of the towering building— a scoff emitting from between his plump lips. the door to his car opens not a second later, aeri, jimin’s girlfriend slipping into the passenger’s side with a huff.

she throws her practice bag onto the back seat, making the dancer flinch as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel. “practice started at five, you know that right?” aeri seethes, buckling herself in and pulling down the mirror, she fluffs her blonde hair— colour similar to the one the dancer once possessed as she insisted on matching. “of course you don’t, god sometimes i wonder why i’m even with you...”

her words do nothing to the dancer as he sits up in his seat, pressing his foot into the peddles as he sets the gears into drive. ‘i sometimes wonder the same thing...’ jimin can’t help but think, sourly. he loved aeri, he did, but she was draining to be around— obsessed with the idea of being at the top, even if it meant criticising her lover at every point. he’d grown numb to her abuse by now. “i’m sorry, ri... i’ll be at practice next time.” he says instead, knowing very well that speaking his thoughts will only set the girl off. the streets are clearer than they were earlier in the day, fewer cars allowing jimin to pass through lanes with ease... his eyes focus on the road, but he longs to take in the scenery— just for a moment. to feel like the world has stopped in place. “i’ll make it up to you, babe.”

aeri scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself after she pokes jimin’s arm. he slows the car at the stop sign, watching with thin patience as the signals change from green to red, colour by colour. the girl turns to face him, lips drawn into a scowl and small hand taking a fistful of jimin’s darkened, navy locks. “dying your hair? is this what you skipped practice for? when will you take this showcase seriously jimin? fucking hell.”

the pinch in her tone irritates the life out the aforementioned dancer, so much so that his shoulders pick up while he begins to drive again. aeri wasn’t always like this, there was a time, back when they were trainees where jimin would have tripped over his feet to get her to notice him, they were usually paired for dancing events— closeness eventually leading them to dating. but now, she fancied the idea of being a star rather than the blue haired boy himself... the infamous new york showcase had always been her dream and jimin supposes he was only a stepping stone to that path. his name being a direct lead there, his money an added bonus. he knew that skipping practices made her mad, maybe that’s what why he did it— to get back at all the horrid words she’d spouted at him in the last few years.

“— and i swear, if you don’t clean up your act, i’ll leave you and find a new dance partner—“

jimin tunes back into her words, an empty threat that he’d heard from her many times before— looking into the rear view mirror he catches her humid gaze before making a turn towards her house. “i know baby, i’m sorry...i’ll do better, let me make it up to you, yeah?” he mumbles absentmindedly, using words that he knew would satisfy her appetite to being him down until the next time. “i’ll buy you that bag you wanted, hm? or those dance shoes you were after... will that do until i’ve caught up with dance?” aeri pulls at her hair in frustration, reaching behind her for her dance bag as she kicks her feet and screams like a petulant child.

“pull over!”

jimin does as he’s told, pushing his hands through his hair as anger rises in his chest— rattling inside his body as if asking for permission to break free. aeri waits for cars to pass before opening the door and storming out, not even giving her lover time to react. the blonde girl whips out her phone, texting someone jimin can’t see before the dancer’s wound down his window.

“aeri, come on doll, let’s not fight.” he tries to reason with her, but the will to keep her close has gone from her voice as she looks up at him with a fiery gaze. her chest rises and falls with anger, causing jimin to roll his eyes and bring his head back into the car. “you’re really gonna walk home?”

“no, my new dance partner is coming to pick me up because he’s not a lazy bum like—!”

jimin doesn’t stay to hear the rest of her cold insult, having had just about enough of her attitude, reversing the car and heading in the direction of his home, his anger still simmering brightly.

“well well well, if it isn’t our handsome ji. look who’s finally coming around!”

the boy in question rolls his eyes despite the little smile that plays at his lips, he’s glad to see that hoseok hyung’s mood has sweetened slightly— his expression matching the brightness of the L.A sun that highlights the blue of jimin’s hair, yet causes him to squint at the same time. he pulls his shades over his eyes, ignoring hoseok’s outstretched hand and going in for a quick, apologetic hug. the manager knows jimin isn’t one for displays of affection, but knows him well enough to recognise an apology from the younger when he sees one.

but jimin’s warmth retreats just as fast as it came, the younger pulling away as if hoseok’s new alexander wang suit has has scorched his tan skin. jimin seems to be grumbling as he slides into the van which seokjin drives and buckles himself in. the annoyance the blue haired boy felt from last night has yet to fade, but he knows he has to keep his anger in check— hoseok texted him early this morning about a meeting with the board... which usually never means anything good.

the car ride is mostly silent, the slight hum of the radio in the background as jimin rests in the back seat. there were few times he’d ever met the board, the first being after his accident, when hoseok had recruited him. the second being when he’d made it big, when the CEO had told him he’d made it big just like his parents would have wanted and the third, well...that would be now. seokjin pulls up to the tl the hangsang company building, quickly helping the dancer out before heading with into the building with hoseok by their side.

walking through the company building, jimin attracts a lot of attention— many have said that he exudes an intimidating, strong aura but the dancer only reckons it’s because of his name...after all, his family does come with a reputation. rookies and senior dancers alike blush and bow as jimin makes his way towards the head office, his slicked back blue hair shines under the false white light and reflects off of the black shades that match his jeans,  chelsea boots and turtle neck.  of course, the boy knows that he looks good, fingers coming up to fix the denim jacket he wears but his stride slows when passing his usual practice room— gaze faltering as he spots aeri tangled with a younger dancer, a rookie who jimin recognises as choi san. the familiar emotions from yesterday crawl up his spine and mix with the blackened jealousy that blooms across his firm chest— but jimin doesn’t have time to linger on his feelings as hoseok ushers the trio into an elevator and presses the button for the tenth floor. aeri looks away from the dancer just as the door closes.

“it’s not looking good for you jimin,” the CEO, explains— he goes by the name of mr.chan. jimin himself admits that he hasn’t been listening since the moment they entered the room but he picks up the tone of disappointment in the CEO’s voice.  shaking out his dark locks, jimin scoffs likely and rolls his shoulders— feeling annoyance build up behind his eyes... he’s got a headache now, which is only worsened by hoseok giving him a scolding glare.

“jimin don’t.”

he sits up at the second mention of his name, jimin knew not to test his manager at this time and also knew hoseok would give him the scolding of a life time if he didn’t listen. tilting his gaze to the CEO, jimin finally tunes into mr.chan, even if he doesn’t like what he’s saying. “you’re our prized dancer park, a household name...but you’ve had fewer performances then any other dancer this year, your recent bad reputation is...driving clientele away,” the old man lets out a wheezing cough, making jimin grimace. mr.chan was a greasy old man, with oily hair and beady eyes. he was harsh to the eyes, jimin supposed it was lucky that he was rich or mr.chan was doomed to be single for the rest of his life. “not to mention the bail we’ve been paying, you’re more of a burden than an asset at this point.”

“you’re fuckin’ kidding me right?” jimin rises from his seat like the anger that boils and bubbles through his veins, having enough of the ugly man that rattles on before him. all he can think about his punching the CEO square in the face. “you  fucking need me here. if im a burden to you, i’ll cut my loss and join another company that wants me. they all want me. i made this place what it is and i’ll tear it right back down. you need me.” the dancer seethes, pointing his finger right at the CEO’s face, mr.chan and his fellow associates swallow thickly, because after all— jimin is right. his raw talent alone is what built this company up from what it was, and anyone would kill for the money that he brings in however he may act.

the panel of staff mr.chan has with him, are rendered silent as is the CEO himself— who are they to challenge park jimin? but a lowly assistant speaks up, grabbing the attention of the congregation. “but raw talent will only last you so long...after that, what will you have? a pile of scandals?” she says meekly, as if no one would hear her— but the scowl on park jimin’s face tells her otherwise. usually, she’d have been fired on the spot for talking in such a manner— jimin might have even had a field day with making her run errands for him but mr.chan and his associates need an argument against the dancer’s case, promptly taking  the assistant’s statement and running with it.

the blue haired dancer sits back in his seat with defeat as the group of fat heads before him smile and cheer as if they’ve just discovered wine. although hoseok chooses this time to interject, sensing jimin’s temper tantrum reaching its peak once again. “but we have a solution, don’t we mr.chan?” the manager cuts through their wheezing laughter in a way that would make you think he was the boss around here. “remember what we discussed?”

the old man nods suddenly, almost in fear as he gestures to the assistant to pass a file to jimin. honeybrown eyes narrow as the girl makes her way over with a brown file full of documents— a sense of nervousness emitting from her. the dancer knows it’s partly because everyone is scared shitless of him and his reputation, the other part is that he’s damn well attractive up close. jimin bites down on his lower lip, looking the girl up and down before he snatches the file from her and opens it up — revelling in the way she blushes with embarrassment.

“we’ve proposed that you start dance therapy with a world renowned physical therapist, min yoongi,” hoseok explains slowly, knowing that anything mr.chan says from now will surely set the dancer off. the aforementioned male grips the arms of his seat, knuckles turning white as he tries his best to suppress another outburst and listen to his manager. “he’s excellent at what he does, the best of the best— he’d be sure to get you back on track...”

jimin scoffs, staring daggers into the spot between mr.chan’s unbearably bushy eyebrows. if looks could kill, he’d be dead within an instant. “so you want me to join a beginners class? do i need to remind you of who the fuck i am?”

“no, you’ll have private sessions,” his manger says lowly, grabbing the younger’s attention. “we want him to motivate you, we’re not denying that you’re a phenomenal dancer jimin, you’ve just been heading in the wrong direction for a few years...”

all this new information causes a feeling of unease to reside within park jimin, the changes that are to come don’t sit well with him... but with hoseok’s words from a few days ago swirling and twirling with his thoughts like a waltz, jimin can only agree to their proposition. “so, what’s the catch?” he whispers now.

“they’ve got another client in south korea ,  we’re thinking of bringing them over too—“

“well then do it!” jimin stands, raising his voice, the conversation is too tedious and all he wants it out. he needs a drink or a smoke or something other than people telling him what he was or what he isn’t. running a hand through his navy locks, the dancer grabs the file and begins to head out, not caring about what’s left to he said. but before he has a chance to storm out, hoseok slips a piece of paper into his hand and lets him go with a saddening smile.

“it’s the name of the client,” he whispers.

and so with that, jimin strides out of the office, the company building— not even bothering to greet seokjin properly as he jumps back into their black van. his bodyguard promptly drives him home, knowing better than to question the silenced dancer, who unfolds the paper to reveal a name.

‘LN YN’.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

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[nemir]

𝕤 𝕡 𝕝 𝕖 𝕟 𝕕 𝕚 𝕕

✞——————❆——————��

» pairing; haurchefant greystone x rhen {my wol}

» word count: 6k!!! EXACTLY.

» content; mutual pining, mixed messages, adult themes,

» an; written over the course of a few days while listening to Kiss from a Rose by Seal on repeat fjgdkljd (also huge shoutout to the Haurchefant I've been hanging out with, you're an inspiration to us all)

"Curse the twelve for this weather! It's too damn cold." A viera woman pushed her way through the front doors of a stone building at Camp Dragonhead, giving little care to the volume - and tone - of her voice. She shivered once inside, pulling the large hood from her cloak back off her head. Jet black ears sprang up immediately, to which her hands lifted to smooth out her choppy black hair. "Right. Where is he?"

The sell-swords and infantrymen who were keeping warm by the fire inside blinked, heads tilting. "Er … Who, ma'am?"

The woman balked. "What do you me--" She stopped herself short and let out a short breath. "Pray, forgive me. My name is Rhen Hrafna, I'm looking for Lord Haurchefant Greystone. Is he in?" She crossed her arms beneath her cloak, the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips; one that nobody would be able to see unless they were up close.

"M-my lady! Our deepest apologies!" The men and women who stood suddenly straightened their backs and saluted, and the ones who remained seated bowed their heads in both shame and reverence. "He's stepped out for but a moment! I-is there anything we can do for you in the meanti-"

"Leave." A single word. It was curt and blunt, but it wasn't filled with malice or meant to cause harm. It was a simple request, as made evident by the viera's smile. The infantrymen took it as an order, and all let out a breath of relief. It meant they were able to go to the mess hall to eat and kick their feet up for a time. A short time, as peace was not something the Highlands knew much of, but it was welcomed nonetheless. "And please," she spoke as they filed out, passing by them as she made her way further into the room, "only return if it is an absolute emergency. Important Scion matters, and whatnot." Rhen rolled her hand in a nonchalant circle, to which some of the infantrymen snickered and rolled their eyes but nodded in understanding all the same, and finally Rhen was left alone.

It wasn't for long. As she hopped up onto the long desk that stood at the far back of the room and leaned forward with her palms pressed into the solid wood, the front doors opened again letting in a blast of cold winter air. "Best to keep bundled up out there, my friends! The wind is blowing something fierce!" A tall elezen man had come in and quickly closed the door behind him. His silver-blue hair tumbled out from his helm as he pulled it off, giving his head a single shake before turning around to a near-empty room. "Ah."

"Lord Haurchefant." Rhen remained on the desk, her legs crossing at the knee. "Braving the weather, I see? And what, pray tell, was so important that made you late for our meeting?" She was teasing him, of course. Even if she could keep a serious tone, her face would give it away in an instant.

"If it isn't my favourite champion! I do so sincerely apologize for the delay, and I hope you are willing to forgive me. It was not very noble of me to keep a lady waiting - especially one as important as you." His lips grew into a long, thin smile, brilliant blue eyes practically glimmering beneath the lights. He strode across the room, arms opening wide as he drew closer to the viera woman. "Could you find it in your heart of hearts?"

"Hmm... I'm not so sure, my Lord." Rhen's head canted to the side, her own grin growing to match his. She pressed a finger to her chin and tapped it a few times, "Perhaps," she started, noting his crestfallen face, "a hot cocoa will do the trick? You look as though you could use one, too." When he was within reach, she opened her own arms and pulled him into a warm - albeit slightly awkward due to his armor - embrace. "I've missed you." Her voice was soft, evidently content and feeling at peace in this moment.

“As I have missed you! Every time you leave the camp, I start wondering when I will be graced by not only your presence, but your shining and beautiful face again. It pains me so, to see you leave through those doors, you know.” His voice was friendly, not as deep as one would imagine upon first looking at him. It was jovial and bouncy, and it was clear he could make anyone smile, or break them out of a sour mood with just a few kind words. Haurchefant was sure to give her an extra squeeze before pulling away, resting his hands on her elbows as he got a good look at her. “Just as beautiful as the first day I met you. Right! Let’s get some of that cocoa going, eh?” He pulled away completely, still beaming at Rhen, then quickly turned on his heels and hurried through the door that led to his private stores.

✞——————❆——————✞

“Halone preserve me.” His words were hushed and quick as he sank back against the door. His hand lifted, wrist pressing to his forehead. What was he going to do? He had always been shameless in his flirting with the Warrior of Light - he didn’t exactly keep his feelings a secret. But… Did she know? Was he too forward just now, with his words and his actions? No, he couldn’t have been! She’s the one who welcomed, and even initiated, the embrace! Did that mean she felt the same…? “Pull yourself together, man!” His hand dragged down his face, and he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “There is no way she could… She would ever...” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Hot cocoa. Right.”

“Why didn’t I kiss him.” As soon as she heard the door shut behind him, Rhen’s expression dropped and her hands immediately shot to cover her face. She let out a long groan of frustration, kicking her feet a bit off the side of the desk. “Gods dammit, Rhen.” Her hands fell back down to her lap and she sighed. She was getting ahead of herself. Sure, she could have kissed him. But would he even want that? Did he even have feelings for her? But the way he spoke to her… No, he talked to everyone like that didn’t he? Well, perhaps not everyone, but surely - “Ugh!” She hopped off the desk and started pacing up and down the length of the desk, arms crossed under her chest. Was she really in any position to develop feelings, especially for one with whom she worked so closely? It could potentially become a conflict of interest, and Rhen knew she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Alphinaud… not to mention Tataru would have that rumour spread faster than one could say ‘Hydaelyn’. No, no. Best to put the thought to rest. For now.

Finally, the water was ready and he carefully poured the water in. He gave each mug a good stir, then lifted each mug and held one out to Rhen. “For you, my lady.”

As if on cue, the elezen pushed his way through the door with two tin mugs in one hand, the other holding a sack filled with powder and a small jug of milk. His usual, friendly smile was plastered on his face and he seemed no different than he had before he walked into his store room. “Shouldn’t take too long, now! Just need to boil the water.” He moved fluidly across the room, retracing the same steps he had taken many times before on occasions just like these, be they with friends, random adventurers, and even on his own. He dropped the supplies on the desk, moved to the hearth to grab a small black cauldron which he brought over to another room which held a small fountain of water. He scooped some in, and with ease, carried it back and hitched it onto the short chain that hung right above the fire. Soon enough the flames were licking the bottom of the cauldron, and a small bit of steam rose from the lightly bubbling water. In the meantime, he set to prepping the mugs, spooning out generous portions of the cocoa powder into each, followed by a good splash of milk.

She took it with a smile. “Thank you.” Though it was hot, she cupped the mug with both hands, thankful for the warmth it provided her. The stone buildings of the Highlands, which were respite from the freezing temperatures outside, did not do well in terms of insulation and there was always a chill, regardless of how long a fire had been going. She moved closer to the hearth and sank down onto a bench that had been haphazardly pulled up by the infantrymen earlier on. Rhen lifted the mug closer to her face, taking in the smell of the decadent cocoa before blowing softly at the rim and taking a small sip. “Mmmn.. Delicious, as always.” Her head turned slightly, “The best hot cocoa this side of Ishgard. I could never have a better cup.”

He beamed in response, taking a small sip of his own. “Oh, you flatter me so.” He leaned back against the bench, resting his arm against the top, his fingers just inches from Rhen. It took everything he had to resist the temptation to reach out and gently stroke her back. “But if you insist. I’ve had a lot of time to practice making it. Not to mention countless cold and thirsty knights.” His eyes darted from her to the warm glow of the fire. “I couldn’t be happier, knowing someone as splendid as you, enjoys such a simple little treat.”

The viera scoffed, “Please. I’m not that special, Haurchefant.” She turned herself slightly on the bench, facing the knight a little better now. “I’m just an average adventurer.” Those words would hit a chord with him, and she knew it. It was said on purpose, as she loved how passionate he got when it came to her. It made her heart skip a beat, and her stomach turn in welcoming anxious knots.

“Average?! There is nothing average about you, Lady Rhen! You are malms above average! Imagine, the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s chosen, arguably the most important member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn being just average!” Here it came. That passionate, near heated retort. He nearly spilled his cocoa with how animated and excitable he got. “The things people would do to be included, or even acknowledged, by you and yours! Why, I had to pinch myself after I met you the first time! I could hardly believe that someone I had heard so much about, someone who had beaten primals, waltzed through my door!” His free hand had lifted to his head, a finger and thumb pressing against his temples. “The… the very notion that you, after all you have done, would think you are av-”

“Haurchefant.” Rhen hadn’t expected this much. She had no idea he’d take it so personally. “R-really, you don’t need to go into so much! A lot of what I’ve accomplished is because I haven’t done it alone, or even by mere coincidence! Luck, even.” She leaned her shoulder against the bench, looking up at him bewildered, one hand pressed to her chest.

“No! Rhen, you don’t-” He stood up, and took one step before turning slightly so his back was to her. “I mean.” A deep breath steadied him. “You truly are splendid, Rhen Hrafna, and that is something I will not argue.” He glanced to the hearth again, his hair falling over his eyes in such a way that blocked them from Rhen’s view.

She sighed, and reached out toward him. “I appreciate your kind words, really, I do. They… they mean a lot to me.” Her gaze was still steady on his face, though struggled to read it. She took a moment to ponder her next words carefully, sipping at her still-hot cocoa. “...You-”

“I apologize for my outburst, my lady.” He hadn’t meant to cut her off, but the silence was killing him. “Ah, but I forget myself. You came here to discuss important matters regarding the Scions, correct?” He turned back around to face her and sat down on the bench once more, that usual smile on his face. Truly, he wasn’t himself without it.

Rhen bit her lip, looking away for a brief moment, then retracted her hand the moment he turned around. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Lord Haurchefant.” She shook her head, and returned the smile. “But, yes,” her body shifted slightly, “that is why I came here. It… really isn’t anything terribly important. Alphinaud just wanted me to relay some information, catch up with how things are progressing here.”

“Ah! The young Master Alphinaud! How is the lad? Chipper as always, I expect!” Haurchefant let out a chuckle, “As for how things are here, they are the same as ever, I’m afraid! The occasional threat, but nothing we haven’t been able to handle I can assure you! I trust things are going well over in Ishgard? You had an audience with Ser Aymeric, didn’t you?” It was time for Haurchefant to shift his body, though it seemed a bit more tense, more stiff.

“Yes, that’s right.” Rhen sipped her cocoa, “He was gracious, and a very kind host. I can see why he’s held in a relatively high regard. I look forward to meeting with him again, and hopefully working together toward not only rebuilding Ishgard, but reestablishing an alliance. They would prove to be an incredibly valuable ally. Alphinaud is still there, actually.”

“I see.” His words were uncharacteristically short, and lacked the usual vim and vigor. “It seems you have your hands full. To be expected, of course.” He nodded once before bringing the mug to his lips to take a long drink. “I…” the knight started to speak, and Rhen tilted her head, waiting for him to finish. “I hope you still remember your friends,” the word was stilted, “back here at Camp Dragonhead. While there isn’t much more you are able to do for us - not that we wouldn’t appreciate any help, of course - I… these halls would feel empty without a visit from you, whenever you are able.”

She felt herself recoil. Friend. There it was. The word she had been dreading. So, that’s how he really felt. She inhaled from her nose, sharp and short. “I could never forget you. All of you,” she added. “You have done much for me, and for the future of all Eorzea, Lord Haurchefant. Don’t discredit yourself and your accomplishments.” Tentatively, she reached a hand out and pressed it on top of his. Skin meeting skin sent a jolt through her body, and she wanted nothing more than to curl her fingers around his, squeeze his hand tight and confess everything, here and now. She would give up everything, if it meant being with him. “Politics are slow-going. It’s not as if I’ll be meeting with Ser Aymeric day after day, night after night. Things need to be put into motion, to pass through… I will have plenty of time to come back here.”

“But surely he set up accommodations for you in Ishgard?” Haurchefant hadn’t meant for the words to be bitter, but Rhen felt the bite, and pulled her hand away. Desperately, silently, he begged himself to remember the warmth and how it felt.

“Well, yes.” She blinked, confused by his reaction. “But it’s just a free room at the inn, nothing fancy.” Her hand curled around the tin mug again, no longer hot to the touch. “In fact it was your father, Count Edmont, who offered me private chambers in his home.” Her brow lifted, “Are you going to take up issue with that, too?”

“Father did? Well,” he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, running the thought through his mind, “no, I don’t have a problem with that, my lady. You will be well taken care of and safe at Fortemps Manor.” And he would know where she was, Halone forbid anything happen. “My apologies. I am merely looking out for you and your safety.”

Rhen’s tongue clicked. “It is fine.” Finishing the rest of her cocoa, she pushed herself up from the bench and moved to the desk, resting the mug on top. “I do believe that was all we had to discuss.” She didn’t turn back to face him, and instead kept staring straight ahead; she didn’t want him to see the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyes.

Haurchefant sighed. “For the time being, yes. It is late, my lady. While I am sure the comforts of House Fortemps are calling, I would feel better if you remained here for the night. That blizzard has surely only gotten worse as the night progressed.” He, too, rose from the bench and made his way to a door off to the side, leaving his mug on the bench, ready to prep a room.

“... Thank you, Lord Haurchefant. That would be greatly appreciated. I’ll take but a moment to contact Alphinaud and let him know.”

✞——————❆——————✞

Haurchefant had the right idea. All through the night, Rhen could hear naught by the wind whipping and whistling around outside, rattling the single-pane glass windows. She was incredibly thankful for the hearth that had been lit in her room as she curled beneath the heavy dodo feather quilt. Still, sleep eluded her. She had been fed - it was a quiet and rather awkward dinner - the room had been set, and Haurchefant had even drawn a hot bath for her to help ease the chill. He even remembered that lavender helped her sleep, and had a sachet of it resting atop her pillow. Perhaps that was why.

The creaking of the door caught Haurchefant's attention, and he spun on his heels. He squinted in the low light, "My lady?" He froze in his spot, unsure if it was just a trick of the wind or if the Warrior of Light was really standing there in the doorframe, in nothing but a silk robe and cloak. "What are you doing out of bed?" He blinked, and remembered stubbing his toe a few minutes prior, "Ah- I hope I did not wake you? I was simply… cleaning up, and managed to catch my foot against the bench." He waved a hand, trying to brush the small lie aside.

Her mind was racing. Something had seemed so… off about Haurchefant tonight. At first, he was his usual eccentric self! It was a relief to see, especially after dealing with the stuffiness of the Holy See. But as their conversation went on, it was as though something happened, and he just changed. The only thing she could pinpoint was when the topic turned to Ser Aymeric, but surely… No, there was no reason why Haurchefant would get so upset over that. Rhen pushed herself up in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. This. This is what was keeping her from resting.

Down the hall and through the door, Haurchefant remained in the main room, resting on the bench next to the hearth, elbows on his knees and his hands together. Why did he let himself lose control of his emotions like that? It wasn’t like him to get so… irrational. Yet, something about the way she spoke so highly of Aymeric - it was to be expected, of course, he was indeed a generous and kind soul, but… Haurchefant gripped his own hands tighter together. “Gods dammit…!” He cursed, and pushed off the bench again, this time his foot connecting with the heavy wood. He grumbled out - of course this would happen after he had changed into more casual, comfortable clothes. He bit his lip, trying not to make too much noise.

A moment passed, and he opted to pace about in a circle, keeping close to the hearth. He didn’t know what to do and for the first time in a long time, Haurchefant wasn’t feeling like himself. On one hand, he was so incredibly honoured and proud to be a friend to Rhen, the illustrious and sought-after white mage. His chest swelled when he spoke of her, or heard others speak her name and of her glorious deeds! But on the other hand he felt almost selfish, like he wanted to keep her all to himself, run away together where nobody could find them. Alas, he knew that would be impossible. She had her duties, as he had his own and it wouldn’t be in either of their characters to just leave that all behind. Not after they had both spent so long and worked so hard to get to where they were. They both had people who relied on them. He sighed, “... as I rely on her.” His words were whispered into the darkened room, hushed and barely audible.

“I need to talk to him.” Rhen spoke aloud, to herself. She needed to be clear of any doubts, any worries. Even if it meant losing him, Rhen needed to tell him everything that was on her mind, everything she felt, and ask him what happened, why he was acting that way earlier in the night. She threw the covers to the side and slipped out of the large bed. Her feet touched the cold stone, and her toes curled, but she pushed through how much it bit into her skin. She grabbed her cloak and tossed it over her shoulders before leaving her room. “I wonder…” She wandered down the hall, first stopping at Haurchefant’s private chambers. Before knocking, she pressed an ear to the door, listening for any sort of noise. Nothing, not even the crackling of a fire. She knocked regardless and pushed open the door, peeking through the small crack. “... Haurchefant?” She whispered into the darkness, but could see nothing. There was no response, no ruffling of sheets or soft sleepy grunts. There wasn’t even a shadowy lump on the bed to mark his presence.

She sighed and moved on from his room, sure to close the door as she left. Where could he be? Surely, he wasn’t called out for some sort of nightwatch? In the middle of this storm? She frowned; if he had, there would be words in the morning. The viera continued to tiptoe her way down the hall, peeking through various doors until she came to the end of the hall. The next door would lead to the main room. Suddenly, she found herself nervous; she didn’t know what she wanted to find on the other side. If he was there, would she be able to go through with this? Rhen bit her lip and opened the door without anymore second thoughts. If she was going to do it, she just had to do it.

"No, I just couldn't sleep." She stepped into the room, arms crossing over her stomach, to keep herself from shivering but also as a way to keep herself grounded. Her head turned slightly to the left, using her one good eye to peer and squint into the slowly darkening room. "... Is your foot alright? Do I need to heal-"

"No, no, thank you. Nothing is broken or bleeding, and I've handled much worse." He chuckled lightly, and for a moment all the tension between them was lifted. They both felt as though they could breathe easy again, but when the room got quiet and neither of them spoke, everything built up from the evening returned. It was thick, and nauseating. "But, you must needs get back to your room where it is warm! You'll end up sickly if you stay out here, threadbare and in the cold. I would hate to be the one responsible for the delay in Eorzea's saving!"

But as he moved closer to usher her back to her room, the moaning wind outside picked up whipping the door wide open. The pair of them lifted their arms to cover their faces, both letting out a sharp gasp as the penetrating cold hit them. "S-stay there, I'll get this." The blizzard was strong, blowing in the snow that had accumulated in front of the door inside in drifts, small pellets of ice mixing into the mess. But Rhen hadn't listened, and was already ahead of Haurchefant, bare feet leaving tiny footprints in the snow in her wake. He clicked his tongue but didn't dare try to argue. Instead, he moved at her pace and they reached the door together, using their combined strength to fight against the wind and push the door shut, latching it and keeping it barred shut with a thick plank of wood.

Rhen could feel her feet burning from the snow, and her lungs felt as though they were on fire. It took her a moment to come down from the slight rush and jump away from the snow, moving back toward the hearth, which the fire within nearly died completely and was now just a burning pile of embers. "That… wasn't my most prudent decision."

Haurchefant watched her, a sympathetic smile on his lips. He considered Rhen his charge, and even if his developing feelings drove him to overreact or overthink, her and her safety was his first priority, above all else. "I shall take you back to your room." It was a statement, and he wasn't going to give her much room to say no, as he was by her side in an instant and picked her up bridal style, the long train of her cloak and robe tangling together and draping over his arm.

He did as he was instructed, though hesitated for a split second, and sank slowly onto the bed next to her. He wasn't sure what to do with himself; his feet were planted firmly on the floor in case he needed to spring back up, but his torso was twisted slightly. His arms he kept low, hands resting on the tops of his knees, fingers drumming against them. "Rhen? Is everything alright?"

She made to protest, but found herself unwilling. So she let him scoop her up without a word, and rested her head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around him. If she could have just this moment and nothing else, she would be satisfied. "Don't feel like you need to rush." She murmured, unsure if he'd even hear her, but when she felt his pace slow she smiled.

“What were you doing wandering about so late?” They had made it back to her room, and Haurchefant was letting her down on the bed. He reached around her and pulled the cloak from her shoulders to hang it back up. “I can’t imagine such a strong, world-saving viera like yourself would be kept up from some howling wind and a bit of cold?” His head turned slightly, stealing a glance at her from over his shoulder.

Rhen sighed; she knew this would come up. There was a fleeting moment where she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to bring it up, that she could just forget that she was going to open her heart entirely to him and just leave things how they were. But then, how long would she be able to keep it up? There was always the chance that it would be too late, and she knew it would be something she'd regret her entire life. "Come, sit beside me." She motioned to the bed and shifted, pulling one leg up to lay it flat against the mattress, turning so she would be able to face him directly.

"Do you care about me?"

Haurchefant's expression twisted, a mix of confusion and surprise. "Of course I do! You're my dearest friend! What would possess you to think I don’t?"

"Haurchefant, you aren’t listening. Do you care about me?” Rhen leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. Her eyes were wide, brows turned upward as she waited for him to understand, to respond.

The elezen was silent as he processed the question, his eyes staring down into hers, searching the mismatched grey hues. He felt her thumb drag along the top of his hand, and he blinked. “Wait, you don’t mean…”

Rhen inhaled deeply, and nodded. “I do. Haurchefant, I… That is to say--” She was stumbling over her words, finding it hard to concentrate over the pounding in her chest. She chewed her lip for a moment before continuing, “When we first met, you were kind and your words were… Well, a bit much if I’m being honest. But, they were flattering all the same, and it was refreshing to hear.” She saw his lips part as he went to speak, but she shook her head, wanting to finish before he said anything. “Over time, I found myself thinking of you more often, how I wished you could be on this journey with me - physically, with me, about how I couldn’t wait to come back to see you here… and I found myself starting to wonder if the words you said, all the compliments… If you truly meant them.” She could feel her cheeks growing hot by the second, and she dropped her gaze, opting to look at their hands.

“Rhen…” Haurchefant tilted his head to the side slightly, still watching her intently. He licked his lips and lifted a hand to her face, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers before cupping her chin to tilt her head back up. “Halone, forgive me for taking so long.” He whispered before closing the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. It wasn’t forced, or rough but gentle, and what one would expect from someone like Haurchefant. He could feel her body tense for just a moment and was about to pull away when he felt her melt into his touch, her hand squeezing his, fingers curling together. He didn’t want this feeling to end.

For months he had been thinking of her nonstop. Since the moment he first laid eyes upon her, he knew she was special - and not just because of her deeds, her title. Just, her. She was plaguing his thoughts, not that he was complaining. At night, he dreamt of her, of moments like these and moments that would make brothel workers blush. Anytime the doors opened to his office, he would snap his head up in the hopes of seeing her walk through. There wasn’t a time he wasn’t worrying about her, and her safety. The relief and butterflies he would feel when he did see her were beyond compare, and unlike anything he could describe.

And right now, in this moment, he didn’t need to speak a word of that; she knew. All it took was that one kiss, which neither wanted to stop. Rhen’s arms lifted and draped over his shoulders, bending so her hands could comb through his hair. He complied, and leaned forward slightly, his own arms moving in to grab her from the waist and lift her slightly and pulled her into his lap; he could feel her smiling against his lips. The kiss deepened as Haurchefant dared to pry his tongue against her lips, begging entrance. She complied and their tongues met. His fingers dug into her skin slightly, and a shiver ran down Rhen’s back. “You have no idea how I’ve longed for this moment.”

✞——————❆——————✞

Daybreak. The sun was streaming through the single-paned glass window, flits of dust drifting lazily about. The fire in the hearth had long since died, no longer even smoldering. Rhen stirred, the sheets rustling slightly. Slowly and sleepily she blinked and pushed herself up onto her elbows. It took her a moment to gain her bearings before she looked around at the room; right. She remained at Camp Dragonhead because of the blizzard. That would also mean…

“Lay back down.” Haurchefant’s voice was muffled, his face buried into the pillow. He was peeking up at her with one eye, the corner of his mouth visible and turned up in a soft smile. He lazily lifted an arm and curled it around Rhen, dragging her back down to the bed. “Mmm… splendid.”

She giggled and wiggled about slightly, getting into a comfortable position, turning just enough so they were facing each other. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down from his jaw. “Good morning.” Her arm draped over his side, fingers tracing gentle and soft lines up and down his back. So it hadn’t been a dream… good. She smiled and let out a content hum.

“And a good morning, it is!” Haurchefant stirred a bit, allowing Rhen to get comfortable before wrapping his arm back around her, holding her close. He was basking in this feeling, in this moment. “I trust you slept well?” His lips pressed to her forehead in a tender kiss. His legs, as well, shifted slightly so as to entangle their bodies even more. He wanted to feel as one with her, and he wanted to stay just like this forever.

Rhen nodded, “And you?”

“Best I’ve slept in ages.” Another kiss to her forehead.

“Haurchefant?” She paused for a moment, and he grunted in response, “What does this mean for us?”

He pulled back slightly so he could get a better look at her face. His expression was gentle and soft, the sweetest and most sincere smile pulling at his lips. “Well, if you would rather keep this a secret and never speak of it again, I would understand. I would be terribly heartbroken, I won’t lie.” He chuckled, and pressed a finger to her lips when he saw she was about to speak. “But,” his expression changed slightly, still sweet but a little more serious. Blue eyes shone in the sunlight. “Rhen Hrafna. Would you grant me the highest honour of staying with me, by my side, as not only my dearest and most cherished friend, but as my partner?” The arm that was around her moved, hand grabbing hers and pulling it up to his lips, “Say you’ll be mine.” He kissed her fingers, each one individually, and so delicately.

“Haurchefant Greystone.” She was beaming, her cheeks red and warm, “I am the one who will be honoured to call you my partner. Forever, and always.” She could feel the tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes, but this time they were of joy. Of a sweet relief, feeling all the weight finally lift from her shoulders. “I am yours, and I always will be.”

“Those words… They are music to my ears. You’ve made me the happiest man alive on this day, you know!” Haurchefant laughed, and it was like a chorus. It was joyful, radiant, filled with love and life. He pulled her in close once more, tightening his grasp around her in an embrace. “This feeling… this excitement. Ahhh, it’s splendid!” Haurchefant took a deep breath and let out a long, happy sigh. His other hand, burdened by being under Rhen’s frame, moved slightly to absently stroke her hair.

“That’s a bold claim, my Lord.” She teased, and the pair chuckled. “But I’m glad. Truly, I couldn’t be happier!” Her hand pressed against the middle of his back. “Long have I waited to hear you say those words, and to hold me just like this.”

“As have I, Rhen. I have dreamt of moments just like these. You’ve never once left my thoughts.”

“I guess that means we’ll be staying in bed a bit longer then?”

He hummed in response, “Please… just a bit longer.” He kissed her again, softly.

“Anything for you.”

[samdeancass]

Taken

Pairing: Jack x reader

Genre: Angst

Characters: Jack, Y/N, Sam, Dean

Description: Rogue angels have found a way to break into the bunker, looking for the nephilim. However, they find Y/N and take her, knowing this would be the most painful type of torture for Jack.

“Hey, Y/N. We’re going on a supply run, wanna come?” You were currently sitting in the bunker library, reading one of your favourite books, with Jack reading over your shoulder. You absolutely hate people reading over your shoulder but when Jack does it, you just can’t seem to get angry.

“No thanks, Jack. I’ll just stay here and read the rest of my book.” He lent down and gave you a little peck on the cheek, making you blush a little. You placed your hand on his that was on your shoulder and gave him a little smile. 

You listened as he and the Winchesters walked away and up the stairs. It’s been a while since you had any sort of time to yourself, so you wanted to make the most of any time you get. 

As the bunker door slammed shut, you sighed with happiness. For the first time in a long time, you felt relaxed. There was no end-of-the-world threats, no monsters to hunt, just full on relaxing times. You decided to finish reading your book and make your way to you room to take a little nap.

Red lights and loud sirens woke you up, indicating that somebody, or something, was trying to make, or break, their way into the bunker. You grabbed the angel blade from under your bed and quietly crept out of your room. You rounded the corner and found two angels congregated in the war room. 

“The nephilim’s not here. What are we gonna do? We need him to make more angels.” The angels started to plan out their next attack against Jack when you began to make your move on the intruders.

“You want Jack? You’re never gonna get him! He’s much more powerful than you are!” The angels turned around in surprise at your words and drawn their angel blades. You ran towards them and knocked one to the ground. The other angel then began a one-on-one fight with you, which you were quickly losing. The angel had backed you to the wall and held up the angel blade to your throat.

“You’re the nephilim’s girlfriend. We can use you to get him to come to us.” The angel began to laugh as the other got up off the floor. He walked around, grabbed your arm tightly and flew you out of the bunker.

Jack and the Winchesters had just pulled up and parked in the bunkers garage. Jack took some of the grocery bags out of the trunk of the car and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped midway through his journey when he noticed the aftermath of your fight with the angels. Jack dropped the bag he was holding and began to search the bunker frantically for you, calling out your name. When Jack had came full circle, he was met with a very confused looking Sam and Dean.

“What in the hell’s happened here?” Dean placed his bag down on the map table and began to investigate and Sam did the same. Jack sat on the steps that led to the library and held his head in his hands. “I...I think the angels have took her. They’ve been praying to me, trying to get me to make more angels. They must have broke in here looking for me, but took Y/N instead.” Jack then began to shake with anger, his eyes turning a very dark yellow.

“Woah, Jack! Don’t worry, we’ll find her. Calm down!” Sam walked over and put a reassuring hand on Jack’s back. Jack powered down and began to rack his brain for different ways of finding you.

The angels had you suspended from a pipe, your feet barely touching the floor. They were torturing you to try and get you to pray to Jack to come and get you. They had tried every form of torture they knew, but you just wouldn’t break and the angels were beginning to get frustrated.

“Just pray to him, and all this will stop.” The angels were trying to bargain with you, but you would never willingly put Jack into any sort of danger, you loved him. “Bite me, you winged assholes.” One of the angels stormed forward and slapped you on your cheek, causing your head to whip to the side.

The whole of your body was in pain from the different tortures that the angels had carried out. One of the angels came right up to your face and whispered in your ear. “If the tortures not working on the outside, i’m sure it will work on the inside.” The angel snapped his fingers and your whole body felt like it was boiling from the inside. You began to scream and thrash around, causing the rope to burn into your wrists.

“Pray to him, Y/N. Pray to him and all this will stop.” You tried to hold off as long as you could, but you couldn’t take the pain any longer. With a whispered voice, you prayed to Jack, head slumped in shame. “Good girl, now we wait.” The angel snapped his fingers again and the pain stopped. They both went to the other side of the room and left you hanging by the rope around your wrists.

Jack was walking back and forth in frustration when he heard your hushed voice in his head. “Jack, please, coma and save me. But be careful, bring the Winchesters.” He stopped walking and ran around the bunker to where the brothers were situated. “Sam, Dean! I know where she is! She prayed to me! Quick, we need to go!” The brothers stood up at the same time and ran to get the weapons they needed. 

“Jack, you do know this is a trap, right? You need to be careful. They’re gonna use her to get to you.” Sam placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and began to softly explain what may happen. “I know, Sam. That’s why we’re going to get her out before anything like that happens.” As soon as Dean comes back into the room, Jack teleports them to where you were

You were starting to lose consciousness when the angels stood up, sensing Jack’s presence. “He’s here, the nephilim’s here.” One angel stood by you whilst the other stood in the middle of the room, ready to confront Jack. 

The door to the room opened and three figures emerged through the door way. Jack’s eyes frantically searched the room until he found you, immediately powering up. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” Jack threw himself into the fight, taking on both of the angels whilst Sam and Dean ran over to you and cut you down. Sam took you in his arms and shouted to Jack. “Jack, we need to go! She needs help!” Jack gave one final blow to the angels and ran over to you and the brothers. He placed his hand on the brothers shoulders and the world around you span. 

You all landed in the bunker and Sam lay you down on the couch. Jack walked over and sat down at your side whilst the brothers left the room. “Y/N, I’m so sorry! It should have been me that they took. If only I was here to protect you, nothing would have happened.” Jacks’ eyes began to tear up. A rogue tear slipped down his cheek and you raised your hand and swiped it away. “Hey, Jack. I’m fine, you saved me. I’m Ok. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t know that those assholes would break in and attack me.” You gave Jack a reassuring smile as Jack leaned down and placed a peck to your lips. 

You felt Jack’s grace flow through you, mending each and every cut and torn muscle you had. He picked you up and carried you to your room, careful not to hurt you even more. Jack lay you down on your bed as he lay down beside you. You moved over into Jacks arms and fell asleep, knowing you would always be safe when he’s around.

Tags: @akshi8278

[artificialqueens]

When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…  

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

[moonchildsaurora]

La Valse de L’éternité

✤ prince!Seonghwa x fem!reader ✤ genre: royal!AU // bittersweet (of fluff to angst) ✤ t/w: sfw, slight mentions of death might need some tissues for the end?, rated PG  ✤ count: 1.8k+

a/n - sorry this is late, but coming out of my hermit cave to finally write an actual one-shot for @daybreakx writing challenge #3. What started out as a mini scenario turned into a mini story instead, and now I just need to lie on the floor for a week (guess that’s what happens when you dive back right into writing after years of hiatus). I hope you guys enjoy it and please feel free to give feedback 💙  

“Hello my love.”

The timbre of his voice weaved in harmony with the orchestral symphony that filled the magnificent ballroom.

“Well don’t you look dashing, my prince.”

The hand that held your own was as gentle as the adoring gaze he had on you. “The night has only just begun and already you’re enticing me with such flattery.” Before bowing slightly, full lips gracing the back of your hand peppering the surface with soft kisses.

“Were my own words back then so profound that you just had to re-use them?” you replied with a teasing counter-attack and a chaste peck on his cheek.

“In all honesty though, you’d put Aphrodite to shame.”

“And you accuse me of using flattery, have you no shame Seonghwa?”

Pulling you flush against his chest by your waist, “For you I’d risk dignity and all,” he murmured and took a moment to lean his forehead against yours. Then and there, you both allowed yourselves to get lost in each other.  

Only when the sounds of strings and woodwinds along with echoes of conversations from below floated back up to your ears did Seonghwa prompt, “Shall we?”     

This wasn’t the first time he guided you down the Grand Staircase and still, the view never cease to leave you in awe. Stoic marble columns stood tall with regal history carved into them, holding up the masterpiece of a ceiling above where the paintings were witnesses to the happenings on the white gold marble floors. Crystal chandeliers and torchères bathed the room with a delicate glow.

You noticed the balustrades were adorned with lush flower arrangements of varying colours. The last time you saw such extravagant decorations was for your royal engagement to Seonghwa.

The floral aroma was prominent and filled your senses pleasantly. Yet there was a faint underlying scent that seemed slightly out of place. 

Before you could put any further thought into it, an announcement was made to alert the guests of your presence. Already parting a way to the centre of the ballroom, Seonghwa and you turned to greet them as you both walked by.

Oddly enough there weren’t any familiar faces amongst the crowd. “Were our parents not attending the ball tonight?”

“They are probably at the tables already, discussing plans for our ceremony which will most likely be sprung upon us by tomorrow morning. You know how exuberant my mother is when it comes to weddings.”      

A soft laugh left your lips at the sweet reminder; in exactly two weeks you’d be walking down a very different kind of aisle. Your eyes glanced down at the blue sapphire that sits proudly on your ring finger. The same shade of blue that your gown of fine chiffon silk was made in and the trims that complemented Seonghwa’s royal ivory suit. 

“Will you do me the honour of having this dance with me, milady?”

Sheer willpower prevented you from rolling your eyes at his youthful playfulness, after all it’s a charming point of his. Instead deciding to indulge your prince by playing along.

With a dramatic curtsy, you accepted.

The maestro gave two loud taps of his baton and a new waltz begun.

Seonghwa and you glided across the floor, letting your feet step in duet with the melody. You’ve felt like you have heard this tune before, but once again your mind cannot seem to settle on a precise answer.

Don’t go looking, please.

“Pardon?”

“Something the matter, love?” asked Seonghwa, brows slightly furrowing at your sudden question.

“Oh, I thought you said something just then.”

Spinning out and coming back in to Seonghwa’s arms, the skirt of your gown billowing effortlessly as it followed your movement. You tilted your head slightly as you looked up to Seonghwa, awaiting for a reply.

“Are you sure you weren’t eavesdropping on our guests?”

“How dare-!”

Another spin and with a careful dip, he bent forward to kiss on the hollow of your neck. “I know, I was jesting.”     

You shivered with delight and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face. Naturally, Seonghwa turned towards your touch. Eyes closing with content and letting a subtle nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Not minding one bit that his arms’ strength was being tested for holding you securely in that dip.

“You are awfully affectionate tonight,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Can’t a prince openly cherish his beloved in front of others?”

When he brought you back up, your hand reached up further to brush his dark fringe out of his eyes. Smiling tenderly back at him, you continued on with the dance.

It wasn’t until your priority shifted to those decadent couverture truffles sitting so innocently on one of many banquet stands that you managed to convince Seonghwa to take a break.   

You could hear him chuckling behind as you hurriedly led him over, not wanting to miss out on your favourite treats.

“I’ll be right back, there’s been talk that the new batch of spring wine goes exceptionally well with sweets. Please try to save some for me!” he said giving your hand a light squeeze before walking off.

“No promises!”      

Making sure that you picked a few of the strawberry truffles, just for him, you couldn’t help but sneak a bite first. What you didn’t expect was the harsh taste of ash to hit the back of your throat. It drew out a coughing fit, causing you to drop the plate.

The scent from before wafted back with vengeance. Smoke. That was what clashed with the comforting florals and now, it stung overwhelmingly.  

You desperately tried to speak but the coughs were relentless. Did any of the guests nearby even notice your distress?

Seonghwa, you needed him.   

Come back, come back.

Trying not to fall into further panic, you blindingly reached out to grab onto anything to help get your bearings. Your arms painfully knocked against cold marble. Turning to look, you were faced with one of the exquisite torchère. It wasn’t the sculptured maiden that your eyes were drawn to, but rather the candles she held up.

The air around you started to feel suffocating and the candles’ flickering flames beckoned an uneasiness from the depths of your mind. A sudden flash came across your vision, causing you to wince and shut your eyes tight.

Your Highness, you can’t–    

Let me go through!

That voice, you know that voice. But why does he sound like that?  

–it’s too dangerous! You’d suffocate from the smoke…

A searing pain cut through your entire being.   

I will not abandon–

–still in there! I have to save–

The fire would’ve kil–

Anguish. Pure raw anguish. It hurt, to hear Seonghwa screaming your name over and over with such hopelessness. You forced your eyes to open with a gasp, acutely aware of how hot your surroundings had become. What had been small flames before, now was an inferno blazing all around. The stairs were burnt ruins and the flowers were no more.

A nightmare – this all had to be a nightmare. “Seonghwa!” your voice cracking as you called out for him, feet stumbling away from the scorching heat.

“Seonghwa, where are y– “ 

Arms encircled and turned you around with haste. “Look at me, I’m right here, look…” fingers brushing away tears that you didn’t know were falling until now.

“W-What’s happening? Why…I don’t understand”

Seonghwa’s presence have always been a safe haven, a constant calm. The moment he held your trembling frame close, it eased the chaos both inside and out that little bit more. You could still feel the firestorm against your back but he didn’t allow your eyes to waver from him. There were conflicting emotions running across him as he looked right at you; as if you would disappear if he were to even blink.

The way he spoke your name next crushed your heart. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck and all you could hear was the same repeated phrase against your ear.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

You tried to move your arms to wrap around him, wanting nothing more than to comfort your dearest prince and cry out that there was nothing to forgive him about. So many questions left unanswered.

“Seonghwa, my dear Seonghwa, what is going on?”

His grip tightened around you, a deep breath drawn in and then exhaled. Holding your face with his hands, he pressed his forehead against yours just like before. “Always remember…” he said so softly, for these words were only for you to hear.

“…no matter how many lifetimes we have, even if they were short-lived, I will love you and will never stop loving you.”

Coldness came, spreading throughout from the inside. Your mind coming unhinged as fractured memories poured in all at once. Memories that weren’t meant to be remembered, for now you know that Seonghwa had lost you before. To burning smoke and ash.

“You are my eternity.”

He brought your lips together and all you felt was the touch of his sweet warmth before the darkness claimed you in the inevitable fall.

Each step you took echoed the hallways, your velvet slipper-clad feet sprinted across the granite marble floor whilst you fiddled to secure the blue sapphire on your finger. Cursing under your breath, thankfully your mother wasn’t around to tell you off, for waking up late. You had plans with your betrothed today, starting with your morning garden walk that you’ve never once missed. It was a special routine between you both, before duty called.  

As you rushed down the first flight of the Grand Staircase, you almost missed the figure standing in the middle of the landing. Dressed in your favourite colour shade, he was faced in the opposite direction. From your viewpoint you couldn’t really see what he was doing or whether he was simply awaiting for your arrival and checking his watch.

“Seonghwa, I’m so sorry for my tardiness, my prince!” your heart beating a tad faster as you approached him.

Had you paid closer attention, you might have noticed how rigid his body went for a split second upon hearing your voice or how swiftly he brought his hand up to wipe away stray tears from his eyes. In blissful ignorance, you knew not of the way he clutched the pieces of himself together. Silently begging that perhaps this time, you will remain for a while longer in this sanctuary that he’s created for you.

The mark that engraved over where his heart was, a symbol of what he willingly gave just so your soul wouldn’t have to drift through limbo alone, stayed hidden. 

Turning around to greet you with a genuine smile and adoration, he held out his hands for you to take so he could once again guide you down those same stairs.

“Hello my love.”

[horrorforemetophobes]

Horror For Emetophobes' Valentine's Fright!

Ah, Valentine’s Day. Saccharine sweet with cutesy cupids and candy-coated hearts everywhere. Gimme a break! Cut the commercialism and get to the real guts of the holiday. Whether you’re cocooned in your own crypt, or languishing in the languid arms of your loved one, here is a selection of killer couples, pining paramours and hopeless romantics that are more Hauntmark than Hallmark! No Skips The Addams Family (1991) Bride of Chucky (1998) Bride of Frankenstein (1935) Corpse Bride (2005) The Crow (1994) Draculas Daugter (1936) The Love Witch (2016) May (2002) – Please be warned that this movie has an animals graphic death as a plot point that cannot be skipped. It’s a real shame, because this is a great horror movie with no skips and a bisexual lead! Misery (1990) My Bloody Valentine (1981) Scream (1996) Shaun of the Dead (2004) Sleepy Hollow (1999) So I Married An Axe Murderer (1993) Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007) Tremors (1990) Skips The Fly (1986) 1:03:00-1:03:36. Severity: 2/10. Seth Brundle’s transformation is revealed. His shirt has some stains that may be distressing to some viewers. These are less visible later on in the scene around 1:03:36. 1:05:20-1:05:25. Severity: 7/10. Character v*s with very graphic close-up, quite sudden. Mute and look away when he picks up the donut. Note: To skip this scene in its entirity, skip from 1:03:00 to 1:6:02. 1:09:32, Ronnie records Seth as he discusses his transformation before he v*s again. Severity: 2/10. No visuals, but prolonged explanation, explicit reference and some brief sound. Skip to 1:10:27. At 1:25:18, Seth grabs Stathis and v*s on his arms and foot, burning them away. Severity: 8/10, graphic visuals and sounds, and a lot of body horror at the same time. Skip to 1:26:28 when Ronnie calls to Seth. Other Content: Body horror, bodily harm, mutilation, animals as test subjects. Heathers (1989) 0:21:05-0:21:35. Severity: 6/10. Character mentions feeling s* before g*ing and v*ing offscreen with graphic sound. 0:27:35-0:27:56. Severity: 4/10. Character ch*s with some stomach sounds. Played for comedic effect, can be watched muted. Other Content: Blood, bullying, psychological abuse, self-harm, mentions of bulimia, suicide, faked suicide, date rape, spiked drinks, bombs, fat shaming. Ready Or Not (2018) 0:29:10-0:29:12. Severity: 4/10. Brief shot, some sound. Woman c*s up blood. She makes sounds throughout the scene and c*s again at 0:29:52-0:29:54. Severity: 6/10. Sudden visuals and sound. You may want to skip from 0:29:10 to 0:29:54, but you may miss some dialogue that’s important to the plot. 0:48:43-0:48:44. Severity: 2/10. Character has blood in her mouth. No V*, but may cause distress. 0:54:12-0:54:28. Severity:7/10. Prolonged sound, sudden visual and brief shot of aftermath. Grace g*s and v*s. Skip to 0:54:30. 1:17:20-1:18:00. Severity: 9/10. Multiple sudden instances, sounds and visual. Several characters g* and v* onscreen and offscreen. Other Content: Blood, injury, mind games, classism (Some content not included here because spoilers) All Cheerleaders Die (2013) 0:43:42-0:44:01. Severity: 7/10. Character v*s facing away from camera with graphic sound. 1:17:41-1:17:43. Severity: 1/10. Unclear if v* occurs. Other Content: Blood, gore, injury detail, death, inaccurate portrayals of witchcraft, rituals, ressurection, infidelity, drug use, alcohol. Hellbent (2004) 0:36:47. Severity: 0/10. No v*, but mentions of p*ing. 0:52:02-0:52:12. Severity: 8/10. Character v*s with graphic sound and some visuals. Other Content: Homophobia, hate crime, implied chemsex, bondage, blood, gore, injury detail. Bram Stokers Dracula (1992) 1:27:10-1:27:15. Severity: 2/10. Character sp*s blood, aftermath visible until 1:27:35, but not graphic. Other Content: Blood, gore, death, illness, rape, vampires, kidnapping, imprisonment, innacurate portrayals of mental illness. Heavenly Creatures (1994) 0:36:40-0:0:37:065. Severity: 2/10. Character c*s repeatedly, eventually c*ing up a small amount of blood. Mentions of bulimia, but nothing shown. 1:13:25-1:14:00. Severity: 1/10. Characters ch* on food in dream sequence. Other Content: Blood, murder, re-enactment of actual murder, implied mental illness, homophobia, sudden health issues, abandonment issues, ambiguous mental health concerns.See something here that shouldn’t be? Is there a favourite of yours that’s missing? Leave a comment of suggestion and I’ll fix it!

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 10: Rosemary and Clove, of High-Flying Birds is up! Where Achilles and Patroclus try to get used to life in Phthia after leaving Mt. Pelion.

Read here or on AO3! Or read from the beginning

*****

The first few nights after we'd returned to Phthia, I could get no sleep.

Even lying next to Achilles I would toss and turn, restless, until he'd murmur groggily in his sleep for me to stop. I would sit up on the bed then, careful not to disturb him, with my back pressed against the smooth stone wall, and watch the sky turn for black to grey to gold, alight with the first fiery fingers of dawn. The air felt strange and different in Phthia. Heavy. The salt in it made my skin itch. It made me long for the crisp mountain breeze, the rustling of the centuries old maple trees, the chill waters of the stream we used to bathe. It reminded me of Thetis, of the cruel twist of her mouth, her dark, inhuman eyes and the hate that burned in them whenever her gaze fell upon me. It reminded me that, away from Chiron’s protection, she could see me. She could see us.

I watched Achilles as he slept, and longed for the trembling light of our single candle, for the way his silk-smooth golden skin looked in the rosy light reflected from the quartz crystals in the cave. The nights we would lie on our pallet and whisper the names of the constellations to each other, trace them in the air with our fingertips.

Not too long now, Achilles had promised. A few weeks more, a trip to Mycenae for Achilles to declare that we wouldn’t be following the army to Troy, and then we would return to the mountain, to our cave and Chiron’s gentle tutelage. I wouldn’t have to fight somebody else’s war, and neither would Achilles.

A stray streak of sunlight filtered through the open window. It fell on Achilles's closed, petal-soft eyelids, his straight, aristocratic nose. The nose wrinkled, and the eyes fluttered open, and Achilles gazed up at me, still bleary from sleep. "Awake already?" he murmured in his sleep-laced voice. I nodded. He let out a soft sigh and stretched like a large feline, the muscles in his arms tightening, his slender back arching. With a yawn, he sat up next to me. "Is something amiss?"

"I miss our painted constellations," I said quietly.

Achilles gazed at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the soft light. Then, his arms came around me, pulling my close. “I miss them too.” He let out a soft sigh and dropped his chin on my shoulder. "We can paint them on the ceiling here, if you'd like."

The thought warmed me. I shook my head. "It wouldn’t be the same."

"I know." He sighed again, pulling me closer. "I know."

We stayed like this for a long while, nestled in each other's warmth, listening as the foreign sounds of the palace stirring awake reached us.  

~

The palace was abuzz with gossip about the impending war, about Helen and the shamed husband she had left behind. Everywhere I went, I would hear the rumours spoken in hushed voices, the worry and the excitement that mingled in their eyes. They talked about Paris, his renowned beauty, his soft hands and even softer temperament that so matched that of the rest of his countrymen, mellowed after decades of peace. But it wasn’t just this that caused rumours to soar in the court. A bard had recently arrived in the palace from far Piraeus, the largest port in Greece. He had heard stories from sailors come from every corner of the Aegean sea, and claimed he knew this to be true: Paris had not stolen Helen’s heart and wits with his grace and soft manners alone. He was Aphrodite’s favourite, and the goddess had had a hand in bringing this misfortune upon the Mycenaeans.

Hera, Athena and Aphrodite had been locked in bitter dispute for years, arguing which of the three was the most beautiful. They had appeared to Paris one warm spring day when he’d been walking through the palace of Troy’s expansive gardens, and asked him for his counsel. The gods had long before taken notice of him, because of his beauty, his intelligence and his noble birth, but even he could not decide who was the fairest. The goddesses, then, had thought to bribe him. Hera had offered him power and riches, ownership of all of Europe and Asia. Athena had skill in battle to offer, powers to put all other warriors to shame. Aphrodite had promised him one thing, and one thing only: the love of beautiful Helen, among the mortal women the fairest and most gentle. Paris, of course, had chosen her.

The tale had made the Greeks sneer. My people disliked such men; perfumed, delicate, soft spoken. Besides, who in their right minds would pass up the opportunity to become the greatest warrior or the wealthiest king? Coward, they called him. A weakling that had shamed Menelaus and betrayed the sacred rite of philoxenia, the Mycenaeans’ hospitality. Hellas was astir, a boiling cauldron.

I listened to all the rumours, all the tales, as I walked through the palace corridors. Achilles was not with me. His father had insisted he be present in the councils with his generals, where they talked about the impending war, the soldiers, the army. I walked the palace halls, the hours drifting by slow and dull. I looked for ways to make myself useful, but could find none. There was no need for me to go searching for medicinal herbs, to hang them to dry, to grind them into a paste. My food was prepared and provided for me, so I did not have to go hunting or foraging for edible plants and fruit. I was no soldier, so I had no place in the training yard, even if I had felt like training. I could only glide by, and hope to go unnoticed.

The truth was, no one paid much mind to me, at least not openly. Some days I was even thankful that talk of war had drawn attention away from my and Achilles’ return, even if it was only for a little. It had not gone unnoticed that he always insisted on me sitting beside him at the large dining table, a place of honour reserved only for a Prince’s closest allies and friends. Or that we still slept in the same room, although we were both men grown now. Such practices were overlooked in children and young boys, but once one had grown fully into manhood, he was expected to grow out of his fondness for his male friends as well. The servants, the nobles that strolled about the castle grounds, the soldiers that I had once trained with as a boy would all eye me sideways, and I knew they wondered: why would Achilles choose someone like me for his loyal companion? Why not someone else, someone strong and fierce in battle, that would protect Achilles from harm and share his spoils, someone with promise of glory, someone that could be, if not his equal, then something very close?

He must know tricks, I heard some guards whispering to each other one day, grinning amongst themselves. Slender and lithe, good with his hands. They paled when they noticed me passing, standing hastily at attention. I pretended to ignore them. ~

That evening, a rich feast had been prepared in his honour, one of the many to celebrate his return. The air in the great hall was heavy and sticky with humidity and the scent of sweat, cooked meat and wine, abuzz with conversation and song, and once more I wished for the nights when we could hear nothing but our breathing, the sighing of the mountain wind and the hushed trill of crickets beyond our cave.

I sat next to Achilles on the table, though I doubted anyone would be looking at me when he was near. There was something about Achilles that demanded attention, even when he did nothing but sit leisurely on his ornate chair and swirl the wine in his goblet with casual disinterest. His robes were made of purple cloth, the rich hue complementing his tanned skin. The golden circlet in his hair seemed pale and dull compared to the lustre of the locks that framed his face. His shoulders were straight, his eyes keen and flashing like polished jade. His lips, twin peony petals, lightly stained red by the dark wine.

He had always had this glamour; wherever he went, whatever he did, he sparkled, drew the eye. It was something I had almost forgotten in those years we’d spent in Pelion, with no adoring eyes to fall on him— other than my own. Now, everyone in the room drank in the grace and confidence with which he moved; his cheeks had none of the childish roundness they used to before we’d left for Pelion, the line of his jaw was sharp and defined as if carved with sculptor’s tools, the muscles in his arms strong and defined. When we’d left Phthia, he’d been but a child. Now he was a man, and he was tall, broad of shoulder, and more fearsome in his beauty than he had ever been. Nobles and serving girls, soldiers and cupbearers alike would peer at him in awe, curiosity or fascination, trying to catch his eye or a word of his in passing, like parched earth lusting after rain.

I let out a soft sigh into my wine goblet when one of the cupbearers, a tall and willowy youth with his rich dark locks gathered in a braid at the nape of his neck passed me by to fill Achilles’ cup for the third time. His almond-shaped hazel eyes flicked brazenly towards Achilles’ as the wine splashed and swirled within the confines of the bronze goblet while he poured it. Achilles paid him little mind, talking quietly with his childhood tutor, Phoenix, instead. An absent-minded nod of thanks was enough to make the boy’s cheeks flush, his head to tilt coyly to the side as he retreated. He returned to his post, and I could see the envy that flashed in the other cupbearers’ eyes that he’d been granted such an honour.

It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, that made the wine turn sour in my mouth. I knew how Achilles must look to everyone around me, how the allure and mystery surrounding his name, his divine birth and the prophecy that dogged him had only grown in the years we’d been away. That Peleus and his advisors wished for Achilles to lead the armies to Troy was no secret to anyone, despite his declaration that he would not. They had all waited for years for the moment that Achilles’ talent and rare skill in battle would unfold. They were in themselves a spectacle, the events that would finally lead him to fulfilling the prophecy that had been foretold since the moment of his birth, that he would be the greatest warrior this world had ever seen. The people around me could only see the effortless grace in his limbs that would serve him so well in battle, his spears that would never miss their mark, the flashing edge of his sword that would never dull. They would all stand back and watch with keen interest as Achilles would leave death and ruin in his wake, as his delicate hands would be stained crimson.

My stomach tightened at the thought. No one saw him the way I did. No one saw his slender fingers, which were meant to hold a lyre as well as a sword, the sweetness of his boyish pride, the warm mischief of his smiles. To our people, he was the one that would lead them all to glory; Aristos Achaion, the best of the Greeks. Achilles, my bright, fair Achilles, belonged to everyone and no one, not truly. Not to the gods, not to the Greeks, not to me. Not even to himself.

Achilles turned to me, stirring me out of my grim thoughts as he set his goblet beside mine on the table. His jaw was locked, his gaze roaming the hall with cool detachment. I could see that he had grown weary of talk, of his father and his friends, of all those that vied for his attention. “Let’s go outside,” he told me, leaning close to my ear. His breath smelled of wine and spices, warming the side of my neck.

I blinked, taken aback. A shiver ran down my spine at our proximity; it was the closest we’d come to each other since that morning. “We can’t leave,” I replied quietly, careful not to be overheard by Peleus who was sitting close by. “This feast is in your honour.”

“And my honour has grown weary.” He scanned the room with keen eyes, his gaze gliding straight past the dancers that had come from Delphoi, boys and girls fair and lithe like water snakes. Achilles barely glanced in their direction. He pushed his chair back and turned to his father. “We are going.”

Peleus did not approve, I could see, but he only looked at his son with a blank expression. “Will you not stay a while longer? Antinoros wishes to make a toast after the dance.”

“I am tired, and so is Patroclus.”

Peleus let out a soft sigh. He looked terribly weary all of a sudden. “As you wish, my boy.”

We left the stuffy dining hall behind. The cool night air was a pleasant change to the heavy smells of wine and spices, of roast lambs and quails. I took a deep breath, tilting my head this way and that, bringing my arms over my head to stretch my muscles. “Much better,” I sighed. Achilles’ fingers threaded through mine when I brought my arms down again, guiding me forward. He was not leading me to our room, nor to the small inner yard he usually went to play his lyre as a child.

I followed him, curious, through the palace gardens, past the side gates. There was a narrow path that veered off the main road, that led past the olive groves with their neat rows of trees and gnarled roots, and to the beach nearby. I could hear the soft whisper of the waves as they rolled against the shore, could see the moon reflecting on the sea’s dark and glassy surface. Achilles stopped, his hand squeezing my own gently.

I turned around, then gasped softly when Achilles’ lips were pressed against my own. The sudden contact sent sharp desire racing through my veins; his lips were lush and moist, tasting of wine, of rosemary and clove. I hadn’t kissed him since that morning, and it felt to me like a year had passed since then. A soft sigh left me and my wrists came to lock behind his neck to pull him close, as if by instinct.  

Achilles walked me back against a tree trunk, his palms smoothing up my spine. I grew breathless as I kissed him, my mind slipping away from me slowly, silk threads running through my fingers. Mere moments before it was all but gone, I pulled back to look up at him. “What if someone sees us?” I whispered. “We’re still close to the palace.”

“Then they’ll see two people kissing.” His eyes glittered, his hair and skin silver in the moonglow. His lips were curled in his cat’s smile when he leaned forward to kiss me again. Before I knew it, my heart was racing with the pressure of his body against my own, my fingers tangling in his hair. I wanted to melt in his arms, to dissolve and lose myself completely, but the distant sound of the waves brought me back to my senses.

I did not want to voice my fear, yet knew I had to. “Your mother.” I took a shaky breath as I broke our kiss, held his gaze levelly. “What if she sees us?”

Achilles stayed silent for a moment, watching me. His features were smooth and tensionless, his expression unreadable, but I could see the hunger that flashed in his eyes, the want, the desire that I had come to know so well. I shivered slightly when he traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, when his tongue brushed over his wine-stained lips. “Then she, too, will see two people kissing.” His gaze on me was steady, his mouth only a breath from my own when he whispered, “I would not stop.”

I had heard him say this many times before, yet it still took me by surprise. The fact that he could do something that his mother or father would disapprove of, but he cared not at all. I swallowed thickly, my skin getting warmer as he studied me, as his lips hovered before my own, his breath mingling with mine.

I raised an eyebrow and flashed him a small, cheeky smile. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

Achilles leaned back, blinking at me in surprise. “I am not. I only had two cups of wine.”

“We both know that’s all it takes.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you insinuating,” he said slowly, “...that I, the son of Peleus and the immortal Thetis…” he leaned closer still, so close our noses were almost touching, “... am a lightweight?"

We stared at each other, holding our breaths, before we both broke out in laughter. We laughed and laughed, until my stomach hurt. It was the first time I had seen him laugh like this since we had set foot in the palace.  

Achilles wiped a tear of mirth from his eyes, catching my hand to pull me towards him. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go for a swim.”

~

We stood at the water's edge for a long while, our hands still entwined. It felt like an act of bravery to take the next step into the sea. The waters had always been Thetis' realm, and to do something like this was like the ultimate defiance. My heart trembled; I wanted to turn back and run.

You don't give things up as easily as you once did, Chiron had told me, his last words to me before we'd parted. They filled me with strength as I took a step forward. I turned to Achilles, and his grin mirrored my own. Of all my small victories, this was the most thrilling.

I shivered when the cool, dark waters enveloped me as we dove in headfirst. We swam and played and wrestled like we always did. Achilles dove in and out of the water like a dolphin, then circled me like a shark. I raced him, again and again, and again and again he won, yet I couldn’t help but feel we were both victors. We laughed until we were breathless, until my skin was warm and tight. After we'd swam to our hearts’ content, we lay on the cool sand to catch our breaths and dry. The stars shone above us, silver bright.

"Look," Achilles said, pointing to the cluster of stars in the horizon that was just starting to twinkle shyly into the dying night. The Pleiades, the winter stars that signalled the ripening of autumn, when the northern winds would blow high and crisp over the verdant valleys and olive groves of Phthia. Seven stars, one for every daughter of the Titan Atlas and the nymph Pleione, each more beautiful than the one before her. Merope, the youngest and fairest of them all, had been abducted by Orion, the giant huntsman, whose star shone close by her; thus her light had been diminished, the first to disappear when the sun rose.

"Can you imagine," Achilles whispered by my ear, "if a god swooped down and abducted you, just like that?"

Gods can do worse than that, I almost said, but held the words back. It was too quiet, too mellow a moment to mar with bitter thoughts of misfortune and divine cruelty. So I turned to him and smiled instead, as if to ward off my own fears, kissing the drops of seawater from his cheek. "I would never let them take me from you."

He smiled, leaning into my touch. "How would you stop them?”

“Anyway I had to.”

“Would you fight them?"

I shifted on my side to face him, caressing the smooth angles and planes of his face with my fingertips. I felt brave, invincible, like I could conquer the world with my will alone. "I would,” I whispered, leaning in to taste his petal soft lips. “I would do anything to be by your side.”

He sighed into our kiss as he pulled me closer. "I would never let anything take you from me, Patroclus."

We lay there, under the stars, until their light dwindled and the sun rose shyly over the distant horizon, and the first fishermen's boats rowed back to shore. We returned to our room with the dawn and lay on our bed with the salt and sand still sticking to our skin. That night was the first one that I finally slept, snuggled safely into Achilles' arms, lulled into slumber by his rhythmic breathing, his soothing, undulating warmth.

When I woke up, Achilles was gone.

[snakeboistan]

The Couple Games

This is going to be my first attempt at crack.

This is inspired by ‘The Great Boyfriend Debate’ by doujinzii. If you’re a Haikyuu!! fan, you should totally check it out because it is a masterpiece that should be displayed in the Louvre.

“YES!” Okajima whooped, pumping two fists in the air as the black and white ball hit the net of the goal. Karma - the student who had scored the goal in the first place - smirked, saluting and winking at the disgruntled crowd of main campus students. It was one of Kunugigaoka Junior High’s sporting events and the sport that the students were currently playing was football (soccer to anyone that’s from America). Of course, as 3-E was seen as the lowest of the low, they weren’t allowed to participate during the main events and were, yet again, pushed to the sidelines and were forced to take part in the ‘Exhibition Match’ against the school’s Football Team where they were expected to be publicly humiliated by experiencing a crushing defeat - all in the name of boosting morale. How fun. However, this year the Chairman’s plan of bringing E Class down was hampered by said class’ teacher, who had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. Days of training and training and more training had prepared the student outcasts for this game of power play and they were more than ready to show the entire school what they were made of. Currently, the boys of E Class were at a tie with the Football Club members, thanks to the goal that they were just celebrating.

“Well done, Karma,” Nagisa smiled at the redhead, who was currently sticking his tongue at the glowering Football Captain, “that was an amazing goal.”

With a grin, Karma turned to face him, “it was, wasn’t it? Why don’t you congratulate me properly?”

Nagisa’s eyes widened as his face reddened. Knowing Karma, there was only one thing that he was thinking of for his ‘congratulations’. He looked away to hide his flaming cheeks, “Karma…”

Karma took a step closer to the blunette, smirking at his embarrassed countenance, “oh come on Nagisa. I worked so hard to score a goal for our class. The least you could do as my boyfriend is to give me a little reward.”

Nagisa’s twin-tails ruffled upwards at the close proximity that the two shared, Karma’s lips were so close to his ear that a millimeter closer would have them touching the skin of its shell, “Ka-Karma. We-we’re in public.”

“Oh, please Nagi~” was purred into his ear, warm breath making the shorter boy shudder and his skin to prickle.

“OI! You two,” both of them looked towards the source of the voice to find Maehara with his arms crossed, looking at them with a mixture of exasperation and fondness as he shook his head at them with a smirk, “care to wait until the game is over before you start flirting?”

“Sorry, Maehara,” Nagisa smiled sheepishly as he pushed Karma away with an extended arm, “I hope we didn’t draw too much attention.”

Karma harrumphed before glomping Nagisa from behind, “don’t be sorry, Nagi. He’s just jealous that I happen to have the best boyfriend ever.”

“Umm, exCUSE ME!” Maehara protested loudly, amber eyes narrowed at the redhead and ignoring the looks that the three of them were getting from other students, “I’ll have you know that you are very much wrong on that, Karma. You do know that I am dating Isogai, right.”

“So what,” Karma retorted flippantly, narrowing his own eyes at the golden-haired boy, “are you saying that Nagisa is not an adorable little blueberry that deserves the world and everything in it?”

“Karma,” Nagisa whispered harshly as he could tell that their conversation was attracting more attention than he was comfortable with.

Maehara waved a hand around, “well yeah sure, Nagisa is cute and all but Isogai is an Ikeman.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean.”

“It means that he’s the better boyfriend.”

Karma scoffed, “how so?”

Maehara used his hands to gesture wildly at said Ikeman, who was watching this all go down with confusion and disbelief, “uhh, have you seen him? I mean those gorgeous eyes and antennae are positively the most captivating things in existence. Not to mention how his smile can cause world peace.”

“No one cares about your stupid hair kink, Maehara. And besides, my Nagisa’s smiles are far more endearing.”

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”

“NEVER!”

Isogai approached them with the face of someone who very much hates his own judgement, “guys, we’re in the middle of a-”

“Nagisa is so the better boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and an amazing kisser.”

“HA! I’ll have you know that Isogai is a far better kisser than anyone could hope to be.”

“Oh, those are fighting words.”

“What are you suggesting? That we have a kissing contest right here, right now?”

“Of course and then you’ll see-”

“BOTH OF YOU, STOP!” Isogai yelled at them in an attempt to stop this trainwreck. Both his and Nagisa’s faces rivaled the colour of Karma’s hair as they watched their boyfriends tear into each other.

“Sorry, Isogai,” Maehara huffed, “but Karma was questioning your ability of being a good boyfriend. It’s my duty to defend you and our title as the best couple.”

“OH THAT’S JUST B*******!”

All of them turned towards the voice that shouted at them, looking on in shock as Kurahashi climbed over the stands and stomped towards them with fire burning in her eyes. She went right up to Maehara and pointed a finger at his face.

“You really think that you’re the best couple?” the orange-haired girl demanded.

“Uhh, duh.”

“Well, you’re wrong. Listen here womaniser (“former womaniser,” Maehara pointed out), Yada and I are the best couple and that’s that.”

“WHAT!” The four boys yelled, Karma and Maehara in indignation and Nagisa and Isogai in incredulity.

“You tell ‘em, babes,” Yada yelled from the side of the pitch. Kurahashi smiled and blew a kiss at her, making her squeal and catch the air in front of her.

Karma, who was still hugging Nagisa, flared up, “Excuse me, what the hell are you saying?”

Maehara glared at the girl in front of him, “Uhh, I think you need to get your facts straight.”

“Yeah, Kurahashi,” Kayano agreed loudly, drawing the attention towards her, “they’re right!”

“What the hell do you mean by that?!” Kurahashi loured at her.

Yada frowned at the resident pudding-lover, “yeah, Kayano. What the hell?”

“I think that they’re right,” Kayano crossed her arms, “you guys are not the best couple. Not when Okuda and I are here.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!”

“Excuse me,” Yada said, “I’ll have you know that Kurahashi is capable of charming anyone she wants to.”

“Yeah, well, my little mad scientist can make a poison that can kill a dragon.”

“Dragons don’t even exist!”

“OH, PLEASE!”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP AND JUST ADMIT THAT MY NAGI-BABY CAN BLOW YOU ALL OUT OF THE WATER. I MEAN HAVE YOU SEEN THE WAY HIS BLOODLUST MAKES HIS EYES GLOW WITH THE DESIRE TO CAUSE HARM! HE’S DANGEROUS AND ADORABLE - THE PERFECT PACKAGE! AND NOTHING CAN COMPARE TO HIS HUGS. NOTHING!”

“SO FRICKIN WHAT?! MY ISOGAI CAN COOK ANYTHING AND HE LOOKS AMAZING IN ANYTHING HE WEARS. HE COULD WALK AROUND IN A POTATO SACK AND STILL LOOK LIKE THE COVER MODEL OF A MAGAZINE! HIS TEXTS TO ME ARE BETTER THAN ANY LOVE LETTER EVER WRITTEN AND IF YOU THINK HUGS ARE SO GREAT THEN YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE THE PERFECT BOYFRIEND RUN HIS HANDS THROUGH YOUR HAIR WHEN YOU MAKE OUT!”

“BOTH OF YOU ARE WRONG! THERE’S A REASON WHY YADA IS B****-SENSEI’S TOP STUDENT. I MEAN THAT MOUTH!”

“OKUDA CAN MAKE A CHEMICAL BOMB IN FIVE SECONDS WITH HER EYES CLOSED AND TAKE OUT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU! WHICH I WILL GLADLY MAKE HER DO BECAUSE I AM SICK OF ALL OF YOU STOMPING ON THE TRUTH!”

Nagisa and Isogai could only watch in horror as their class erupted into the Pompeii of Kunugigaoka: Okajima was on the grass, wailing about how it’s so unfair that he’s single and has no one to defend him and Mimura was next to him, curled up in a fetal position and rocking himself back and forth, whispering to himself ‘it’s just a nightmare, it’s just a nightmare’; Sugino was slumped against a stand and was blushing madly; Fuwa and Rio had their phones out and were recording everything that was going on; Okano started rambling about how Kataoka’s front stroke was so graceful that it could put a dolphin to shame; Chiba and Hayami looked at each other before looking away and continued to observe the events unfolding; Yoshida was forced to restrain an angered Maehara who was about to throw himself at Karma; Terasaka and Muramatsu were just staring blankly into space, looking like they were ready to accept the Earth blowing up right now instead of in March; Hazama turned another page of the book she smuggled into the game; Hara tried to calm down the fight that was breaking out between Kayano and Yada; Okuda was still blushing from Kayano’s earlier declaration; Irina looked like her favourite show was on as she was gleefully clapping her hands and watching everything go down (to be honest, she found football dead boring and was very interested when Maehara suggested the kissing contest earlier); Karasuma’s hands seemed to be surgically attached to his face; Koro-Sensei was having the time of his life as he was hurriedly jotting down notes in three different notebooks and taking pictures with two different cameras simultaneously. Meanwhile, as all of this was happening, the Football team stood there awkwardly, having absolutely no clue what on Earth was going on. Araki, who was sitting in the announcer’s box, turned to Asano in bewilderment. The strawberry blonde was watching the bonfire that was E-Class in a mixture of confusion, distaste and fascination.

“Uhh, Asano,” Ren probed, “shouldn’t you do something?”

Asano shot a glance towards his father, noting the way the older man looked as if his feather’s had been ruffled and internally taking delight in the way he too seemed perplexed at the current state of events, “hmm, probably not. This is the most entertaining thing I’ve seen since Seo’s new haircut.”