#That he knows better and she should know better too it’s so much
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say it again — satoru gojo x f!reader
you've been married to satoru gojo for so long, but you've kept it quiet, so you can imagine his satisfaction at finally hearing you call him "husband" in public.
You've managed to keep your marriage to Satoru Gojo under wraps for nearly two year now. It isn't that you're ashamed—far from it.
Being married to one of the most powerful sorcerers simply comes with complications, especially given his clan's tendency to meddle in everything.
So you both agreed to keep it quiet. No flashy announcements, no public displays, just you and him. Sure, it means wearing your ring on a chain under your clothes and careful planning for your living arrangements, but it's worth it for the peace and quiet.
That is, until you slip up at the most mundane possible moment.
You're both at an official appointment regarding some property documentation. The clerk has been droning on about paperwork when she asks about your relationship to Satoru for the forms.
"Oh, he's my husband," you reply absently, still scanning the documents in front of you.
The scratching of Satoru's pen stops abruptly. You look up to find him staring at you with the most ridiculous expression—somewhere between absolutely delighted and utterly self-satisfied.
"What was that?" he asks, a grin spreading across his face.
You blink, realizing what you've just said. "I mean—"
"No, no, say it again." His eyes are practically shining now. "What am I to you?"
"Satoru," you warn, very aware of the confused clerk watching your exchange.
"Come on," he says, leaning closer. "One more time. What am I?"
"We're in public," you hiss, but you can feel your cheeks warming under his gaze.
"Please?" He bats his eyelashes at you in that ridiculous way of his. "For your beloved husband?"
"You're impossible," you mutter, but you can't help the small smile tugging at your lips.
"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly perfect as your husband?"
The clerk clears her throat. "Should I... put down 'married' then?"
"Yes!" Satoru answers before you can. "Put down that I am this wonderful person's husband. Their spouse. Their better half. Their—"
"She gets it," you cut him off.
But Satoru isn't done. For the rest of the appointment, he manages to work the word "husband" into nearly every sentence. "As her husband, I think we should sign here." "My lovely spouse and I would like copies of that." "Do you need both myself and my better half to initial this?"
By the time you leave the office, you're ready to strangle him.
"You're enjoying this way too much," you say as you walk to the car.
"Can you blame me?" He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "It's not every day I get to hear you call me your husband in public. Usually it's all 'this is Satoru' or 'we're together' or my personal favorite, 'yes, I do unfortunately know him.'"
You roll your eyes, but can't help leaning into him. "You know why we keep it quiet."
"I know, I know. The clan would be insufferable." He presses a kiss to your temple. "But maybe we should tell them anyway? Can you imagine their faces when they find out we've been married this whole time?"
"They'll have our heads for this."
"Perhaps. But you have to admit, the thought is tempting. No more sneaking around, no more hiding that ring." He catches your hand, thumb brushing over where your ring should be. "I want everyone to know exactly who you are to me. And what I am to you. What was it again?"
"Don't push your luck."
"Come on," he coaxes, "just say it once more."
You pretend to consider it. "And what do I get out of this?"
"My eternal love and devotion?" He gives you a long look. "And I'll do the dishes for a week."
"You're supposed to do those anyway," you point out, but he's already pulling you closer, that insufferable smirk of his growing wider.
"Say it again, love," he says, and the way he looks at you then—eyes soft and full of adoration—makes your breath catch in your throat.
All your defenses melt away under that gaze, the one he reserves just for you, the one that makes you forget why you ever try to deny him anything.
"Husband," you breathe, and feel him tense slightly against you.
"Just like that," he whispers. "Though I prefer when you add my name to it."
"Don't get ahead of yourself."
"That's what I do best," he says. "Besides, my darling wife, I think you secretly love it when I am."
The way he says 'wife' sends a shiver down your spine—something you know he notices from the satisfied look in his eyes. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly yours," he corrects, and despite his playful tone, there's something sincere in his gaze. "What do you say? Ready to scandalize some elders?"
Looking at him now, you can't remember why you ever wanted to keep this secret. "With you? Always."
He doesn't wait for more, just leans in and captures your lips with his, and you think maybe going public isn't such a terrible idea after all.
© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.
#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk drabble#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen drabble
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farm girl- o.piastri
summary: what's a better way to a guys attention than shouting at him for being too slow?
pairing: oscar piastri x fem! clarkson farm, farm-hand!! reader
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You weren’t the biggest fan of Jeremy’s reality show, but you enjoyed working the farm, so, as per your agreement, you wouldn’t be featured in episodes as much as possible. You were so far removed in fact, that you didn’t even know that someone else was driving the tractor when you shouted for them to ‘stop being shit’ at driving it.
“Y/n!” Jeremy shouted. “Stop being rude!”
“What?” you scoffed. “I swear to god, if Finn doesn’t fucking speed up I’m going to-” you started, but stopped yourself when you saw none other than Oscar fucking Piastri in the driver’s seat with an embarrassed and guilty smile on his face. “Sorry,” you offered, internally cursing yourself. “Continue on!” you announced before turning back and continuing on with more of your duties.
Oscar looked after you as you walked, an amused smile on his face. “Who’s that?”
“Y/n, one of our farmers,” Jeremy explained, a chuckle on his lips. “She’s… fiery.”
“She’s damn good at her job!” someone from off-camera chimed in, making everyone chuckle.
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As his day went on, he caught glimpses of you. You were tending to animals, or showing someone around, or just generally being beautiful and mysterious. He was desperate to know more. He asked a million questions about you, and he was sure everyone was aware of his not-so-secret crush on you.
“You should ask her out, she likes F1,” Jeremy advised as they sat down to lunch. “You’re one of her favourite drivers.”
He still got surprised when people knew him, forgetting sometimes that he is, in fact, a public figure. “Yeah?”
Jeremy laughed. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “Kids these days…”
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When his day of hard labour came to an end, he made it his plan to seek you out, humoring Jeremy’s theory.
“Hi,” he smiled, standing just behind you.
You startled, jumping up from whatever it was that you were doing and cursed. “Fucking hell! Announce yourself!” You let it slip before you could really stop yourself, but you didn’t feel all that bad, he should have announced himself.
He laughed. “What did you think I was trying to do?!”
“Scare the shit out of me?” you scoffed. “I don’t know.”
“I’m Oscar,” he held out his hand to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”
You took his hand,shaking it quickly. “Y/n. Sorry about the whole… tractor thing.”
“Nothing but a bruised ego,” he chuckled. “So what do you do around here?”
You shrugged. “A bit of everything, I guess.”
He nodded, and you both stood in silence for a minute.
“Did you need something?” you questioned. “-Not to be rude, or anything, I just… I've got to get back to the rest of my stuff so… yeah.”
He smiled, enjoying the fact that you were as awkward as him. “Can I get your number?”
You stared at him for a second, then you broke out into one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. “Why?”
He stepped closer to you. “I think you’re really pretty,” he explained. “And I want to get to know you more.”
You nodded. “Give me your phone.”
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#mclaren#oscar piastri x fem!reader#f1 fluff#x reader#female reader#x reader insert#reader insert#x reader fic#x reader fluff#x reader fanfiction#fem reader#gn reader#f1#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#requests#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction
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Still thinking about yesterday’s post and the dynamic that fucking snatched up my brain worms in a vice grip.
Reader who is perfectly capable, has a well earned spot on her team. Who has safety net after safety net provided by the mere presence of the rest of 141. So much so that she doesn’t even remember what fear is. Living in that invincible bubble of “we’re the best because we look out for each other and we’re not going to let anything happen to each other”
And the day that bubble pops and you don’t even realize it yet. A chance encounter with a KorTac operative and you stole his kill right out from under him. Made eye contact in a shower of blood, maybe even threw him a cheeky grin, high on stims as you were.
You didn’t realize that you’d stepped outside the metaphorical bounds of your little safe zone, stepped right into the territory of a feral, untamed creature with sharp teeth and the scent of you cloying in his nose. A scent that made his blood sing a siren song of want.
It’s not just happenstance that you cross paths again. (Not that you know that). Hes been seeking you out, taking mission after mission in a dogged attempt to see you again. To see if it was more than a fluke.
And his impatience, his persistence, is rewarded with the silhouette of you, breaking a man’s neck with your thighs. (If the man weren’t surely dead, he’d wish he was for the crime of having your attention, of being smothered by your thighs, of being that close to your cunt.)
In your precious stealth gear, sleek and deadly, eyes sharp on the path ahead, not the shadow gathering behind you. He just watches you for a long while, soaking you up like a dry earth in a squall, letting you take root deep, deep within his being, in the place a soul should be. (You’re better than.)
He’s got your callsign now, whispered by one of your team members as their path intersects with yours. Narrowed eyes at the (too) friendly shake given to the hard mask covering your mouth and nose, the way your cheeks rounded with a grin beneath.
What was an interest has evolved instantaneously into an obsession. (Or devotion. Or love. They’re all the same to him, all the same kind of possession.)
He loves watching you fight as much as he loves watching you kill. He’s hard in his tac pants experiencing it this close, getting to feel each unforgiving strike in all the openings he leaves for you - invitations you always accept because you’re his good girl and you can’t resist, of course not.
He purrs when he gets you pinned to the wall, your eyes big, sparking with that animal knowledge that you’ve been bested by a bigger predator. That you’ve been won, claimed. To the victors go the spoils, and the only thing he’s lost is his restraint.
You’re panting and squirming beneath him, and he’s hypnotized, unable to do more than press closer, press harder to get you wriggling against him. Moaning softly when your heel digs a bruise into his calf, how you go still with a sort of realization.
“Again,” he rasps into your ear, “go on, pretty little hunter. Keep going. You’re so strong.”
But before you can, something over his shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes flick away from, where they should be. And he realizes that he been so consumed by you, intoxicated, that he missed the intrusion on your moment together.
In the aftermath, his gear smells like you. The place where he slipped his thigh between yours and pressed he swears smells like your cunt, heady perfume. He’s breathes it in as he fucks his tight fist, high on the memory of your strength testing itself against his.
He imagines the scent of him all over you in return. Going back to those men with his claim in your armor, wishes you’d taken the blade with you, his blood smearing your gloves, your shirt, your pants, staining your skin.
He cums to that thought, thick spurts all over a grainy print out of you from the op he first met you on, milky drops on the ink that forms your mask.
Soon, it’ll be reality.
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"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.
Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"
"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."
"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".
And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.
It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.
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warming up
franco colapinto x teammate!reader
summary: franco is determined to make his teammate feel better with the perfect warm sweater.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: franco is slightly obsessed with reader, not much franco x reader action but still cute! two mentions of ‘yn’, shameless and jealous franco.
You had seriously underestimated how cold Vegas would actually be.
It seemed like everyone had warned you, ‘Bring sweaters, it will get cold’ they said, and yet you chose to ignore them. So your situation could’ve easily been avoided.
You gazed at Liam Lawson from the other side of the paddock, wishing nothing more that you were in his position, wrapped up in a blanket sitting right next to a heater.
You sighed, imagining what you would feel like if you were in his position, you were so focused that you didn't see or hear your teammate walk up behind you.
Franco looked at you with a smile, although he frowned when he realized you weren’t giving him his desired attention, he followed your gaze over to Liam, who was in the middle of an interview.
“What are we looking at?” he whispered in your ear, ignoring your slight jump.
“Jesus Franco,” you muttered, trying to calm yourself, “Liam looks real warm right now.”
Franco nodded, rolling his eyes slightly, “Yes. Because he had a blanket. Do you not see that?”
You gave him a look, “Of course, I see that. That is the whole point. I want to be warm.”
Franco gave you a look over, keeping his eyes on your bare arms, where he could see the cold making your hair stand up, he smiled, “Ah. Are you cold?”
“I can’t feel my fingers,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes forward, on Liam.
Franco frowned, holding back on asking why exactly you didn't bring a sweater, his stomach felt nauseous at the sight of you gazing at Liam with so much want.
Now, you weren’t exactly looking at Liam, more so his body temperature, but still, Franco would give anything to have you gaze at him.
He gasped, his face brightening, if he got you a sweater, there was no way you would be staring at Liam like that, you would be staring at him like that.
“I will be right back.” he spoke firmly, starting to back away, “Do not leave.” you watched him over your shoulder, giggling as he fumbled into a sprint.
“No, too ugly…” Franco mumbled to himself as he threw the sweater behind him, he pulled another from his small driver’s room closet, “No, too blue…” He threw this one behind him as well. Not noticing it landed on his trainer.
The man in question jumped in shock, pulling the Williams-style sweater off his head, “What the..” he mumbled, turning to Franco, who held up a knitted sweater, “Perfect..” he heard Franco whisper.
The trainer stared briefly, watching Franco go back scavenging through his closet. The trainer could only roll his eyes before slowly walking out of the room.
“I should get her two.” Franco whispered to himself, “In case she doesn’t like one of them..” he nodded to himself, continuing to throw sweaters he didnt deem fit behind him.
After ten minutes of back and forth, Franco existed his driver’s room content, he was going to be your night and shining armor, and then you’ll look at Franco with all the love in the world because he was the one to get you warm and cozy.
Just as he was going to make his way over to the media pen, where he had left you, he was pulled aside by your manager.
“(Y/N) was looking for you.” she informed him, Franco grumbled to himself, “I told her to stay in place, tonta.” (dummy)
“She got cold.” The woman defended you, “You left her out there…she waited for ten minutes.”
Franco held up the two sweaters in his arm with a frown, “I got her sweaters, so she would not be cold.”
Your manager eyes him with a smirk, “You spent ten minutes finding a sweater to give her?”
Franco shrugged, “I wanted to make sure they were warm.”
The woman tilted her head, “You know we have a merch store full of sweaters, right?”
Franco turned to her in disgust, “Mierda, those sweaters are like this,” he held his thumb and index together, “They are not warm. They need to be warm.” (shit)
“So you are giving her your sweaters?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think that will make her fall in love with you?”
Franco leaned back in offense, “I do not need to make her fall for me…” he paused, “She is already in love with me, she just does not know it yet.”
The woman nodded with pursed lips, “Yeah because that’s a totally sane thing to say.”
Franco simply rolled his eyes, having had this conversation one too many times. So what if his obsession with you was just slightly worrying? It was all going to work out in the end, he just knew it. “Do you know where she went?”
Your manager thought for a moment. “She mentioned being hungry, so she probably went up to eat.”
And with that, Franco went off with a sprint.
Out of breath, and slight sweating, Franco entered the Williams dining room, eyes sweeping over the place with quick eyes. Only to feel a rush of disappointment when he didn't spot you.
He let out a deep disappointed sigh as he took a seat at the bar. The bartender watched him as he wallowed in pity.
Franco continued to let out deep, soul-searching sighs, catching the attention of those around him, the bartender walked but to him with an awkward smile, sliding over a glass of water.
“Hey Franco,” she started, he glanced up at her with a small smile, “You okay?” she whispered, leaning in, there were all different kinds of people around them, investors, fans, journalists, and no doubt searching for a bit of drama to hold onto, the last thing she wanted was for this interaction to be first-page news tomorrow morning.
“No.” Franco was blunt, “Was (Y/N) here?”
The lady nodded, “Yeah she just left actually. She got her usual–”
“Hot chocolate, whipped cream, caramel drizzle.” the two coursed.
The bartender leaned back, impressed, “You really know her.”
Franco shrugged, “She’ll be my wife one day, I need to know what she likes.”
The lady laughed, “Oh yeah? Does she know that?”
Franco tilted his head, “No sé. I don't think it's a secret that I like her.” (I don't know.)
The woman agreed; this was not the first time she’d heard about Franco being in love with you. It seemed like every time he and she talked, he managed to somehow make the conversation about you.
Now, she didn't know if the feelings were one-sided, the way you looked at Franco certainly made her think they weren't.
She hummed, “Well she took her hot chocolate to go, so I don't know where she went.”
Franco nodded, slowly moving off the chair, his sweaters both tightly secure in his clutch, “Okay then. If she comes back, tell her I'm looking for her.”
Franco was late to the fan stage, he had been so busy looking for you that he had lost track of time, and now he was being yelled at by his manager through the phone, demanding to know where he was.
It took him two minutes to run from the garage to the fan stage, he was recorded who knows how many times, and he was no doubt trending right now.
He had thrown the two sweaters in the arms of his manager when he arrived, wasting no time climbing the small steps up to the stage.
What he saw made his stomach drop, there you were in all your glory, wearing no other than a…mclaren puffer jacket. And you were talking to no other than…Lando Norris.
God, the smile on your face made Franco want to claw his eyes out, Lando had never been that funny.
Franco ignored the fans yelling his name, instead he squeezed in between you and Lando, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Hello,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on you.
Lando looked over at you with an amused smile before walking away, shaking his head slightly.
“Hi?” you questioned, glancing over to the fan’s direction weary, thankfully they seemed to be paying attention to Lando and Oscar, the latter seemingly saying something funny.
“I was looking for you.”
You winced, “Sorry but I got really cold, and then I got really hungry…”
Franco smiled softly, "It's okay…” he glanced down at your attire, “What are you wearing?”
You broke out into a smile, “Do you like it? Lando gave it to me, he said I looked cold.”
“I don't like it,” Franco stated simply, you leaned back, an offended look on your face. “Okay. Rude.”
“It’s really ugly, “ he continued, “You should change.”
You huffed, “I didn't bring any sweaters!”
Franco held up a finger before moving away. You rolled your eyes, moving back to the others on stage.
A couple minutes later you felt someone's presence behind you, you jumped slightly, feeling someone pulling on your jacket, looking back you saw Franco, a look on his face.
“Take this off,” he mumbled, you glanced to his shoulder, where two knitted sweaters lay. “Porfa?” he pleaded, seeing the hesitation on your face. (please)
Later that night, as the fan stage was wrapping up, Franco walked up to Lando, handing him the Mclaren jacket with a smile, “She didn't want it…” he muttered, “And she doesn't want you.” he added as an afterthought, shooting the Mclaren driver a smile before walking over to you.
#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#f1#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x y/n#f1 social media au
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hi <3! was wondering if i can get svt reaction to yn being completely oblivious to them flirting with her? subtle things like while she’s just ranting about her day they’d move closer to her and she’d absentmindedly put her hand on their chest to push them away still running her mouth, just completely unaware of what’s happening. and even the most obvious things like compliments or physical touch, yn is blind to it and it’s so frustrating to them
so yeah, hope you see this! ❤️
Hi! I'm sorry for being so late 😭 i've been very busy with job and housework, but it's finally here.
Svt reacts: Flirting vs clueless s/o. Who will win?
Yuin's note: barely proofread. I'ts 1 am and I'm tired.
Seungcheol. Staring at your face.
I mean, he likes to just stare at you as if he's watching the prettiest person in the world, but when Seungcheol wants to be especially flirty, he stares at you fondly and smiling with the whole intention to make your heart skip a beat, he even glances at your lips, as if he were trying to say something. Most of the time that's enough to make you really, really shy but when is not... Geez, he has to breathe in and ends up pouting a little (Probably one or two pecks will make him feel better).
Jeonghan. Teasing.
Is like his default love language, making harmless jokes to see you flustered all over him is just so fun to watch. But, is he really just trying to be a teaser, or is there something else behind? "I took the chair, but you can sit on my lap" he said one day, sitting at your desktop, with the most mischievous smile possible. But you didn't fall for his charm and as you kept your annoyed face, he stood up and sighed "Okay, all yours". And you better be ready because he's not forgetting so easy, and will keep teasing you just a little (yeah, a little) more than usual.
Joshua. Back hugging.
When Joshua wants your attention only and only for him, he goes where you are to hug you from the back, resting his chin on your shoulders and crossing his arms around your waist. Oh, he loves it so much is so tender, but he gets lowkey hurt when you don't react in any way because, how come you don't realize his intentions? Is really doing the dishes way more important than his warm hugs? Now, this is personal and Joshua won’t let you go, take it as a punishment for being so clueless (reward or punishment?).
Jun. Tickles.
For him, tickles is the perfect excuse to be closer to you. It's so obvious that hurts lol. Most of the time you melt in his touch, and you both end up laughing and sharing some kisses, but sometimes you're minding your business, too busy to realize that Jun wants to get your attention. Better get ready because you'll have a pouty little cat going around the apartment, and will NOT forget your offense unless you give him extra cuddles before bed.
Hoshi. Random "facts".
At the least appropriate time, he would come to find you. "Did you know that there is a minimum number of kisses that a person should receive per day to be healthy?" he says with a very serious expression on his face. And there you are, standing in the middle of the living room while you're brushing your teeth; your soulless expression says all. Hoshi turns around and pretends nothing happened, but in his mind, he's sitting in the corner staring at the walls.
Wonwoo. Making compliments out of nowhere.
He likes to pour you with sweet words, like how much he appreciates your homemade food, or that you did it great at work. From time to time, he thinks is fun to be a little sassy and his praises are very, very intentional. “New gloss?” he says, grinning at you “It looks good” and for some frigging reason you just start talking about how you got it? Babe, Wonu doesn’t care that much that you bought it because your favorite gloss wasn’t on stock, but now he feels a little shy to speak and just lets you tell the whole story.
Woozi. Playing with your hair.
When it comes to be openly flirty, Woozi tends to be a little coy. You rarely notice it since it's very common for him to be around you, caressing your hair and playing with the strands in complete silence. So when you get distracted he places a strand behind your ear, exposing your neck. But when he's so close to place a kiss, you jump like a scared kitten. "No! It tickles!" Woozi looks down, defeated, as you move away. "Sorry, be right back" and he locks himself in his room for the next hour.
Minghao. Holding your hand.
He thinks your hands are more than just pretty. Hao likes to take one of them when you're sitting by his side, scrolling on your phone or watching TV. He's so subtle that most of the times you don't feel how he traces your hand with his fingers and when you realize, it’s because your hands are intertwined and he’s holding his laughter. “How low you’ve been like this?” but Minghao just giggles. You end up doing the same and then resume your activity, letting him laughing low in embarrassment and biting his lips as a sign of frustration.
Mingyu. Resting on your lap.
He's very straightforward when it comes to flirting with you. Mingyu likes to wait patiently for you to sit on the couch or the bed and then he goes, at first making some (pretty obvious) questions "What are you doing?" "Is that a new book?" and as you're talking, his hands rest on your thigh, gently stroking your skin with his thumb, but you're so immerse in the topic and he goes completely unnoticed... And before you even notice, there's a flustered Mingyu resting his head on your lap, tracing small circles on your thigh as if he had been punished.
Dokyeom. Taking photos.
He already has a folder with your name and an unhealthy number of photos; Seokmin just never gets tired, you're so used to it that most of the time don't realize that he's actually trying to hit on you. "Just let me take a picture, you look so beautiful today!" And after giving him an awkward smile, you're getting back to your stuff. Seokmin is a bit disappointed but with a bunch of new photos of his precious person, so is not that bad (at least is what he says to himself trying to not lose his mind).
Seungkwan. Scolding.
I know, it may sound like a bit harsh but when he's scolding you, Seungkwan tries to make it as tender as possible, it doesn't feel like scolding and actually, he uses this as a cheap excuse to be extra lovely. "Don't sleep too late, you're getting dark circles" he says in a soft voice while caressing your checks "you're too pretty for that, don't you think?". He waits for you to take the bait and when you laugh on him, saying that he's being a little dramatic, Seungkwan doesn't hide his disappointment. "Okay, keep watching your series" he says getting up from the couch "but don't you dare to complain later!"
Vernon. Placing his arm on your shoulders.
A classic that never dies and his favorite, Vernon likes to do it all the time: when watching movies, chatting, watching videos together; is a like a very subtle invitation to get closer to him, and somehow, most of the time you’re just minding your business and leave him waiting for you to notice. And yeah, he’s very patient, but everything has a limit. "Come here, babe" then he places his hand on your shoulder and brings you closer to his chest. And don't you dare to move, because there's no way he let you go now.
Dino. Calling your name.
Usually, he calls you by pet names or your name in diminutive, reserving the use of your name for special occasions. However, it doesn't always end the way he expected. “Did I do something wrong?” you ask him just after he called you by your name, and when Chan sees your big doe eyes, his smile fades. “Is just that… I feel like you’re mad at me”. At this point his intentions doesn’t matter anymore, he just hugs you and tries not cry in his disappointment.
#seventeen#seventeen fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#seventeen headcanons#svt#svt fic#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt reactions#svt headcanons#choi seungcheol#yoon jeonghan#joshua hong#wen junhui#kwon soonyoung#jeon wonwoo#woozi#xu minghao#lee seokmin#kim mingyu#seungkwan#hansol vernon chwe#lee chan
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off the court
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
themes: angst, pining, light jealousy
word count: 3.6k
tw: swearing, talks of alcohol use
a/n: very proud of myself for finishing this as quick as i did. ngl i was so giddy writing this chapter, it might be my favorite so far! please lemme know how y’all are liking it, enjoy! 🩷
CHAPTER FOUR
paige wakes up in her bed, in the same clothes as the night before. her pounding headache is evident, and her memory is foggy. she recalls drinking far too much, but there’s still a gap in her mind regarding the last few hours. how did she end up in her dorm?
she came to the conclusion that nika or aubrey had brought her back home. i mean, they did witness her drinking more than she should on a thursday night, so it’s a solid assumption.
paige reaches for her phone; there’s three missed calls from nika, two from aubrey, and one message from coach auriemma. fuck. she’s late for practice.
the memory of azzi rejecting her floods her mind, which makes paige contempt staying in her bed for the remainder of practice.
as paige scrambles to get dressed and head out, she’s physically off balanced, still dizzy from all the alcohol she had consumed. she grabs an advil and quickly shallows out before throwing her basketball bag on and rushing out the door.
heads turn to look at paige as she strides through the gym door, already out of breath.
nika is the first to pull paige aside; “girl, where were you? are you good?” she questions, concerned.
paige fakes a smile, “i’m good nik. i just overslept.”
“you sure you’re okay? you were drinking a lot yesterday.”
“really, i’m okay.”
nika gives paige a reassuring squeeze on her shoulders, “alright. if you say so.”
paige begins to walk to the lockers rooms, purposefully avoiding coach, who calls her over anyway.
“where were you?” he asks, clearly furious at paige’s absence.
“i’m sorry coach, i overslept.”
“you should know better, paige,” he says firmly, “everyone, run 10 laps.”
loud groans come from each of the players. coach auriemma’s eyes widen in challenge, “don’t like that? make it 20.”
paige’s lips curl; she receives dirty looks from her teammates, annoyance bouncing off them. she desperately wants to run away, go anywhere but here, yet she sets her bag down and runs with her team.
practice is the slowest it’s ever been for paige. and the pounding headache she continues to have doesn’t help one bit. she remains out of sync, constantly missing easy layups and wide open 3 pointers. all she wants is for this damn practice to end so she can sleep the rest of the day away.
she’s been intentionally avoiding azzi, not meeting her eyes, building distance between the two, not even passing her the ball, regardless if she was open or not.
but when azzi throws a soft glance at paige does she meet her eye contact. azzi wears a concerned, light expression on her face, with an ounce of sadness in her gaze.
paige shoots a glare at the younger girl as she remembers the events of yesterday. azzi and paige’s bodies flush together. their lips inches apart. azzi’s rejection. azzi running away from her.
paige is first the break eye contact, going back to shooting. or atleast, attempting to shoot.
once practice comes to an end, everyone is eager to leave. it’s been a long day, and they all needed rest.
as azzi was about to exit out the gym door, paige pulls her into the locker room, quickly and swiftly.
“jesus, paige-“
paige places her hand on azzi’s forearm, “look, azzi. about yesterday,” she begins.
azzi’s cheeks flush, “paige-“
“listen, i was drunk out of my mind. i didn’t realize what i was doing or who i was doing it with. i hope you’d know i would never do that sober.”
pain hits azzi like a brick. she knew paige would regret it in the morning.
although azzi had been the one to pull away, it didn’t mean she didn’t want to kiss paige- she did. she desperately did. she still does.
“i.. okay,” azzi whispers, eyes flicking to the floor.
paige pulls her hand away from azzi’s arm, while continuing to look at the brunette.
“alright then,” she nods, “we good here?”
azzi opens her mouth, then shuts it and nods as well.
paige flings her bag over her shoulder and casually moves for the door. azzi’s not far behind her, placing her bag on her own shoulders and leaving the locker room.
the two girls walk in opposite directions, not bothering to glance back. paige closes her eyes as regret strikes her hard. she had lied to azzi. she wanted to kiss her yesterday, still wants to, but what else could she do? azzi pulled away. she pulled away. she had to at least try to act like it was a mistake.
later that evening, paige is in bed, with her phone in her hand. ever since practice earlier in the day, she had been completely worn out, still suffering from a terrible headache.
paige scrolls on tiktok for while, before switching over to her favorite app, instagram. she views her teammates stories and likes a few posts. she sees caroline posted a photo dump, and as she scrolls through the photos, observing each one, she notices azzi in the last photo.
it was a picture of her and caroline in one of their dorm rooms, arms around each other, and azzi’s lips on carol’s cheek, in a friendly manner. it doesn’t settle the blinding jealousy paige feels, though. her fingers tighten in her hands, causing marks on her palms.
god, azzi looks so good in that photo. her hair was loose at her shoulders; she had on a bright pink hoodie paired with black leggings. paige never wished more to be someone else in this given moment.
paige clicks on caroline’s photo, causing azzi’s instagram page to pop up. she quickly hits it to reveal lots of posts from throughout the years.
she scrolls through all her posts, way back to 2015, and she’s reminded of USA basketball days. when azzi dmed her about accidentally liking an old photo of hers. red covers her cheeks in embarrassment.
she views azzi’s most recent photo dump; it was a few pictures of her playing basketball and some with their teammates.
with a slip of a finger, paige likes the photo. again.
“god fucking dammit!” paige exclaims, shifting up in a sitting position while nerves stir in her stomach.
she shuts her phone off and tosses it on the bed. paige covers her face with both hands, shaking it head at her stupidity.
her phone buzzes against her bed; paige already knows what it’s going to be. and as expected, it’s an instagram dm.
i’m getting deja vu, it read. paige’s lips tilt up, somewhat pleased that azzi still remembers their interaction from years prior.
would u believe me if i say it was another glitch? paige texts.
anxiously waiting for azzi’s respond, paige fiddles with her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.
i’d say these glitches are awfully convenient, aren’t they?
a soft giggle escapes the older girl’s lips, as she swiftly replies.
they most definitely are, she sends.
after a couple minutes, azzi finally replies: sooo watcha doing?
paige arches an eyebrow, surprised to find azzi continuing the conversation.
laying in bed, what about u? she types almost instantly.
yeah same, i’m so bored, azzi’s message read.
an idea arises in her mind: same. wanna maybe come over? dorka isn’t here rn.
minutes pass without a respond from azzi. was that too much? does azzi not want to hang out with her? does azzi still hate her?
and do what? azzi finally sent.
paige tilts her head- what would they do? she hadn’t thought that far ahead.
not really sure. we could watch a movie or something, whatever you want.
seconds later azzi responds. sounds good, i’ll be there in 5.
paige scurries off her bed, frantically trying to make her room look somewhat presentable for the younger girl. not that she wanted to make an impression, or anything.
she stuffs dirty clothes in her bed, throws away old water bottles and miscellaneous wrappers before lowering the lighting to appear slightly darker.
as she replaces her current hoodie for a cuter one, she hears a quiet knock at the door. her head whips in that direction while nerves erupt in her stomach.
she opens the door to reveal a smiling azzi. she has on a simple white sweatshirt, baggy black sweatpants, with a pair of nike slides.
“hey,” azzi says, looking into paige’s eyes.
“hi,” paige replies, holding eye contact, “come on in.”
paige moves to the side, allowing azzi to enter her dorm room, cautiously. azzi observes her room better than she previously had when they were first in here alone, taking in the posters, books, decorations. it was all so paige.
paige gently shuts the door before going to sit back on her bed.
“you played really well yesterday, you know,” paige compliments.
azzi’s smile grows, revealing her dimples that paige loves a little too much, “thank you. that means a lot.”
blush reaches paige’s face, “yeah, of course. but i’m sure you already knew that.”
azzi arches a brow, “what do you mean?”
“how coach compliments your game all the time. you’re the team’s princess, practically,” paige notes.
“well, i wouldn’t-“
“not that i can blame him, though. your skills are undeniable, az,” paige cuts her off, the tips of her lips lifting.
azzi brings a hand up to cover her wide grin at paige’s compliment and the use of her nickname.
“getting soft on me, bueckers?”
paige playfully rolls her eyes, “you wish.”
paige shifts over on the bed, making enough room for azzi to sit as well. “you can come sit, y’know.”
azzi is hesitant, but regardless, walks over to paige’s bed and sits alongside the older girl. their thighs brush against each other’s, sending butterflies to azzi’s stomach.
the two girls settle on a movie, the notebook, to watch for the evening.
“want something to drink?” paige offers.
“um, water is fine, thanks,” azzi answers.
paige simply nods and walks out the bedroom, out to the small kitchen her and dorka share. while she’s gone for a quick moment, azzi decides to get more comfortable, allowing herself to lay out in paige’s medium sized bed.
paige comes back to the room and brings herself to a halt. god. azzi laying on her bed was not one she’d imagine actually happening, but is damn grateful it is.
“thought i’d get more comfortable for the movie,” azzi says, like the answer is obvious.
“that makes sense,” paige replies, breathlessly. she sets down azzi’s requested water and her own on the bedside table, while she carefully crawls in bed next to azzi, laying out as well.
the two girls bodies’ are side by side, full on touching one another’s. and paige couldn’t be happier.
“y’know, you’re a really great player too, paige,” azzi whispers, a couple minutes into the romantic film.
“thank you,” paige begins, “i thought i’d never hear those words come out of your mouth.”
azzi snorts, “yeah, well, me either to be honest. i’ve always hated you.”
paige’s lips turn slightly downward, yet is unsurprised at azzi’s comment. she knew azzi had hated her, ever since USA basketball. she hated azzi, too. well, tried to hate her.
“i hated you, too,” paige lies right through her teeth.
azzi turns her body to face paige, “do you still hate me?”
paige scoffs, because how could she, or anyone for that matter, ever hate someone like azzi? paige shifts her body, facing the brunette’s; “i don’t know, my opinion on you changes everyday,” she teases.
azzi smiles- her brown eyes roam paige’s face, then drop to her pink lips. she knows better; paige literally said mere hours ago she would never kiss azzi sober.
“i’m kidding. i don’t. i could never hate you,” paige mutters, barely loud enough for azzi to hear.
just as azzi’s about to respond, exhaustion washes over her, causing her to drift to sleep. in paige’s dorm. in her bed.
paige’s eyelids flutter open as the remnants of sleep faded. the warmth of her bed surrounds her as she was the first to wake. she glances at the body in front of her, taken aback at the sight of the curly headed brunette. her breathing is steady and peaceful, lips slightly ajar. paige lays motionless for a moment, listening to the gentle rhythm of her own heart, before carefully, slowly reaching around to grip her phone.
paige’s eyes widen as she views the current time- 3:01 am in the morning. they had been asleep for several hours at this point, right alongside of each other.
paige looks over at dorka’s empty bed and is surprised not to see her. she figures she’s staying at one of their teammates room.
paige sets her phone back on the bedside table, takes a swig of water, before returning to her laying position in front of azzi, who remains asleep. she slowly reaches her hand out to graze azzi’s cheek, then twirl a loose curl around her finger, careful not to wake the younger girl.
minutes later, with paige continuing to stare at azzi, her eyelids finally open. she stretches slightly, lets out a faint yawn, before making eye contact with the blonde.
“hi,” azzi whispers, still dazed from her long rest.
paige gently smirks, “hey.”
“we fell asleep?”
“guess so. i don’t think i watched past 10 minutes of the movie,” paige laughs.
“same,” azzi shares the laughter.
the two girls shift into a sitting position, not caring enough to move when they touch one another.
“pass me my water?” azzi asks.
paige nods, grabbing azzi’s water bottle, as well as her own.
“thanks,” azzi says once paige hands it to her. she downs the entire bottle as paige silently watches in admiration.
“thirsty?” paige teases.
“you have no idea,” azzi replies, out of breath, “can i have some of yours?”
paige’s eyebrows rise, kind of surprised at the question. “yeah, ‘course.”
she passes her water off the azzi, who gratefully takes it. she takes several sips.
“what time is it?” azzi questions the older girl.
“3 am,” paige replies.
azzi turns her head at paige in surprise, “are you joking? we slept for that long?”
“i know right,” paige says, equally as shocked.
“i should probably get going then,” azzi says, beginning to get off the bed.
paige turns her head to azzi, “what? you don’t have to. it’s the middle of the night, azzi.”
“you want me to stay?”
paige looks away, flustered, “um, i didn’t say that. i’m just saying you’re allowed to stay if you want to. dorka’s probably at one of the girls’ room, so we have enough space.”
“alright then,” azzi nods, “do you have a shirt i can borrow? i hate sleeping in sweatshirts.”
“didn’t seem to have a problem with it earlier,” paige notes, “but yeah, i do.”
the blonde rises off her bed, scrambles in her messy closet, blocking it with her body to avoid azzi seeing the clutter. she pulls out an old USA basketball t-shirt that she figures azzi would be fine with.
“this good?” paige questions.
glancing at the shirt, azzi’s lips turn up, “that’s great. thanks, paige.”
she throws the shirt to azzi, who also pushes herself off the bed, easily catching it. paige exits the room, going to get more waters for the two of them. azzi lifts off her sweatshirt, tosses it to the ground when paige quickly returns.
paige nearly drops the bottles of water at the sight of azzi’s bare back. her eyes widen, her breath hitches. she wasn’t wearing a bra this entire time?
azzi pulls on the t-shirt paige kindly let her borrow, before turning around, noticing paige staring at her with her jaw dropped.
“i- i’m sorry…” paige stammers, shaking her head at herself.
azzi’s heart is basically beating out of her goddamn chest. she smiles gently, “you’re fine.”
paige finally moves from her spot at the door and places the bottles down. she stares at azzi, wondering if they’d continue to share the bed or if one of them would move to dorka’s.
azzi stares back at the older girl, thinking the same think but not voicing it.
eventually, paige breaks the silence. “i can sleep on dorka’s bed.” she walks over to the empty, made bed, slightly disappointed azzi isn’t protesting against it.
panic soon sets in for azzi, “what? no, it’s your bed, paige. you should sleep it in.”
“really, it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she lowers herself on the bed.
“paige, cmon. i’m not making you sleep in a different bed,” azzi argues.
“okay then..” paige says, confusion setting in.
azzi plops back onto paige’s bed, moving over so there’s enough room for the older girl, “just come back over here.”
paige’s cheeks blush against her will, a smirk settling on her face. “if you insist.”
the two girls get comfortable on the bed, legs touching ever so slightly.
“night,” azzi whispers.
“night, az.”
azzi, this time, is first to wake. paige is much, much closer to her than she had been when they first fell asleep. azzi suddenly feels an arm wrapped tightly around her waist that has her pulled practically flushed against paige’s body. paige’s hand is underneath azzi’s shirt, on her bare back. azzi allows herself to admire a sleeping paige for a quick moment.
she checks her phone- 8:30 in the morning. azzi carefully takes paige’s arm and places it gently on the bed, then crawls out of the warm bed, trying her best not to disturb the blonde.
with her phone in her hand, she glances back at paige, and exits the room.
later that day, in the afternoon, the entire uconn women’s basketball team is scattered in paige and dorka’s room. there’s players on both beds, on the small couch, on the floor. azzi is planted against paige’s bed, while paige is seated on the couch.
the team had been chatting about a variety of things when kk comes up with an idea for the girls.
“guys, we should play spin the bottle!” kk announces, loudly.
“what are we, 10?” paige scoffs, rolling her eyes at the game idea.
“cmon, p, don’t be blame. plus, i’m so bored,” kk whines.
“i’m down,” nika agrees.
“same, why not,” jana says.
soon, each player agrees to a game of spin the bottle, even though paige is convinced it’s a stupid idea. they all sit in a circle, tight enough so they’re all touching, due to the size of the dorm. kk places a bottle in the middle of the circle and gives it a gentle spin.
it lands on aubrey and lou. nika lets out a soft chuckle, causing aubrey to laugh as well.
“pucker up, lou lou,” aubrey smiles before swiftly placing a kiss on lou’s lips, not lasting more than 2 seconds.
the bottle is once again spun, fast this time. it lands on nika and jana, who smirk and touch lips.
paige shifts in her seating, silently wondering if the bottle would ever land on her. she doubts it.
kk gives the bottle a good spin, making it travel faster than before. paige anxiously watches the bottle, fidgeting with her fingers as nerves take over her body.
the first spin lands on azzi. oh jesus. whoever this next spin lands on should consider themselves lucky, paige thinks. she then takes in account that azzi still is wearing her USA basketball shirt.
it’s azzi’s turn for nerves to overpower her. her heart quickens, palms begin to sweat in anticipation for whoever she’s about to kiss.
the next spin seems to last an eternity. paige swears it goes in slow motion. but eventually, it points directly at the blonde.
azzi’s eyes practically bulge out of socket. her jaw drops as she locks eyes with paige, who looks equally as surprised.
ignoring the o’s and ah’s she receives from her teammates, paige makes her way over to the curly headed brunette, careful not to show how nervous she is to kiss azzi.
the older girl settles comfortably in front of azzi. her gaze roams azzi’s flushed face, which causes paige to smirk knowingly.
there is a heavy silence, the air between them electric, both eager and tentative. slowly, paige places her hand on azzi’s hot cheek, and leans in. when their lips finally brush, it was gentle- hesitant at first- but the warmth between them quickly grew, the kiss only deepening as both hearts speed up. a soft, trembling sigh escapes azzi’s mouth while paige’s deepens the kiss even further. she slips her tongue into the younger girl’s mouth, swirling and testing the waters.
after what feels like forever but not nearly enough, paige pulls away, disconnecting their lips. she removes her hand off azzi’s waist- which uncontrollably moved there from her cheek- and crawls back to her original spot, besides dorka and jana.
she glances back at azzi, who’s lips are pluffy and a darker shade of pink, while her cheeks are a softer pink.
the room continued to buzz with energy, the laughter of her teammates echoing from the game, but all paige could hear is the steady of her own heart. her pulse quickens when azzi meets her gaze, heat and want in her lingering eyes. for a moment, the noise of their friends fade away, leaving only the weight of a shared silence between the two.
the blonde didn’t take her focus off azzi. she didn’t smile, didn’t do or say anything. just watched.
azzi clears her throat, trying to act as casual as possible, but her hands betray her, nervously fiddling in her lap. she quickly flicks her eyes to the ground, but not before noticing paige’s lips twitch softly, as she was fighting off a grin.
then, without a word, paige turns her attention back to the silly game her teammates were continuing to play, yet azzi couldn’t shake the warmth in her chest or the growing electricity still intensely present between them.
#azzi fudd#paige bueckers#pazzi#uconn wbb#nika muhl#uconn huskies#basketball#paige x azzi#fanfic#pazzi fics#paige buckets#fan fiction#uconn women’s basketball
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Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)
ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx
ೀ wc: 5k
ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.
ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!
ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist
The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think.
He can’t.
There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—
Four seconds.
He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—
He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now.
He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake.
Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway.
Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was.
Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her.
She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were.
Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?
“You’re not here.”
It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again.
Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.
A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs.
.
Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest.
Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack.
“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room.
She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl.
“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”
Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.”
Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.
“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”
Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating.
It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.
Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”
A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.
His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”
“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”
“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”
“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”
It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been.
“And now she’s dead!”
His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily.
“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”
“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”
.
Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her.
He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her.
Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality.
Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands.
Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well.
Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely.
The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair.
Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly.
He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing.
You’re the order to my chaos, hero.
“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”
A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it?
Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal.
He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home.
There’s no sleep that night.
.
Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move.
He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.
At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose.
He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be.
A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right?
His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her.
Still her.
Always her.
.
He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt.
There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away.
There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.
Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—
“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat.
A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition.
“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”
“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”
Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet.
Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled.
Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step.
“Soooo—” she begins.
“You’re alive.”
Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against.
His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving.
Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull.
“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink.
“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”
He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath.
“Woah, hero, you���re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”
Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room.
“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”
Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him.
“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”
Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”
Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her.
When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.
“No need to get shy, stud.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles.
He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.
“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually.
Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”
There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”
She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again.
“Does Vi—”
“No. No. And it’s better this way.”
“But—”
“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”
He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him.
“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”
“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says.
Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been.
She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”
There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement.
“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”
Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so.
“I… shit. Sorry.”
“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”
Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”
“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”
.
Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone.
“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets.
“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”
Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way.
Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them.
“You drew this.”
He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”
Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom.
“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”
She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”
“Then stay.”
She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”
He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”
Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”
“You tried to blow us up.”
“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”
Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere.
Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche.
She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”
And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.
.
The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had.
They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth.
They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.
“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness.
“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”
He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”
“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”
“It’s a pity, then.”
She tilts her head. “Why?”
Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair.
He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all.
Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away.
But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”
They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.
“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes.
He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”
He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close.
“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”
“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”
She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”
“Ask me, damnit.”
Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread.
“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”
Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”
A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body.
“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.
She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”
Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.
----
an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.
#arcane#ekko x jinx#timebomb#ekkojinx#arcane fic#asks#thank you for asking anon!! just a tiny 'sort of fix-it'
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Cut for Time - Moon 31
Hey guys! New things! Sometimes when we have long moons, there are scenes that I want to show you guys but I just don't have room to do so. With the suggestion of @snailstep-and-her-clan and the help of the loudclan discord I was able to bring some of these scenes to life in written and illustrated form! Enjoy, and go follow the talented artists if you don't already!
art by @mammoth-clangen
“I’m sorry.” Peakpatch tries to look down at his paws shamefully, but Jaggedtail places a paw under his chin, gently urging Peakpatch to look him in the eye.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“But it’s stupid-” tears prick at Peakpatch’s eyes.
“It’s not stupid. Don’t be sorry.” Jaggedtail’s voice is solid and comforting, Peakpatch fights the urge to melt into it. It feels wrong to seek comfort in his friend after rejecting him. It feels selfish.
“It is stupid. I like you, you like me, we should be mates! I just… I'm not ready…” Peakpatch’s tears begin to drip, and he doesn't have the will to fight it when Jaggedtail pulls him into his chest.
“I understand, Peakpatch. You don’t have to explain it. It’s okay. I’m here as your friend for as long as you need me to be. And when you’re ready to become mates- if you’re ever ready, I’ll be here then too. I’m not going anywhere. I already promised you that.” Peakpatch let out a shaky breath. He couldn't imagine a life without Jaggedtail. If keeping him at paw's length is what Peakpatch needed to do to keep him alive, then he would be happy to. He could find a way to be happy to.
art by @lurking-in-windclan-camp
Hushed voices echo out of the healer's den, but with the majority of the clan at a gathering there's no one to notice two mischievous apprentices hidden in the shadows of the cave.
“Ah! Shoot!” Dancepaw recoils from one of the piles of herbs, cradling an injured paw, “This one stings!”
Erminepaw peeks over at Dancepaw’s pile. “Hm, that must be nettle, then,” He pauses for a moment, before reaching over and gingerly sweeping it into another pile “Songpaw said that fireweed cures stings, so we’ll put those together. Oo, and the stinkweed too, since they’re both ‘weeds’!”
"What about the berries? They all look the same, so how are we supposed to tell the difference? Taste?" Dancepaw hooks a berry with his claw, raising it to his mouth before a sharp smack from Ermine sends it flying into the dark recesses of the cave.
"No! You never eat a berry that you don't know the name of! Don't you pay attention at all when Songpaw talks?" Ermine's scolding earns him an offended glare.
"Well if you know so much then you do it!" Dancepaw sulks around to the other side of the ledge, shouldering Erminepaw over to the berries.
Erminepaw bristles at the shove, but after a deep breath he begins to hesitantly sort berries, too proud to admit that the task is a bit above his level as well. Besides, Erminepaw assures himself, he's watched his mother do this a thousand times, how hard could it be?
“Songpaw better be grateful that we’re helping him out like this.” Dancepaw grumbles.
“I’m sure he will be when he finds out!” Erminepaw pointedly chirps back, trying to push the creeping feeling of unease back down his spine. If he makes a mistake the healers will fix it. What's the worst that could happen?
Art by @featherfrond
“Hey! Wait up!” Rosehiptree trots up to Kingfur as he slips past the jagged rocks that mark the camp entrance, their pelts brushing as she squeezes through the narrow gap alongside him.
“Everything alright?” Kingfur questions, on edge at the unusual attention. Rosehiptree was his sister, Sockeyepelt's, friend, it wasn't often that she paid him any mind. Perhaps his prank had inspired the pair of them, the thought sent a shiver down Kingfur's spine. His sister didn't exactly know where the line was when it came to practical jokes. He swore that he still had thorns lodged under his skin from the time she decided he needed to go swimming in a pit of devil's club. It was in his best interest to deflect for now. “Sockeyepelt is sunning back in the camp if you were looking for her.”
“I know that. I’m not looking for her.” Great, Kingfur thought to himself, watching Rosehiptree glance around at their surroundings. Had Sockeyepelt slipped out of camp ahead of them when he wasn't paying attention?
Satisfied with her sweep of the area, Rosehiptree turned her attention back to Kingfur, a wide grin slowly taking hold as ice blue eyes sparkled with delight, “I’m looking for the genius who got Juneaucliff to walk around camp puffed up like a ptarmagin with all that junk smeared on his stupid face!”
Kingfur felt pride well in his chest, but quelled it, not about to let himself fall for such blatant flattery. "You didn't seem to find it all that genius from where I was standing. I didn't think you even payed enough attention to notice."
Rosehiptree rolled her eyes, playfully bumping shoulders with the tom. "That's just cause that's what I wanted you to think. I'm not blind!" Their gazes lock for a moment, before Kingfur glances away, his will power crumbling by the second. Had her eyes alway been that blue? Was that some kind of trick to make him let down his guard? Is there some kind of herb that makes your eyes bluer?
Kingfur takes an instinctive step away from the she-cat, and she hesitates, her gaze dropping as she continues dejectedly, "Juneau's a good guy, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he'd make a great mate, but we're just not on the same page, you know? He deserves someone who's gonna make him happy, and that's not me. It's never gonna be me. But, when I say 'never' he just hears 'not now'." Her eyes flick nervously between her paws as her voice trails off.
This isn't a prank. The realisation washes over him all to late, as Kingfur searches for something to say to her, but caught off guard he comes up empty. Rosehiptree clears her throat and flicks her tail, raising her head once again, and summoning a polite smile. "Well I just wanted to uh, say thanks for getting him off my back for a while." She steps to the side, turning back to camp, and Kingfur's stomach twists.
"Hey, uh-" Having her attention turned back to him once again made some childish part of Kingfur wish he had just let her walk away. But he steeled himself, plastering a confident grin on his face to make up for the fact that his stomach seemed to be trying to climb up out of his throat. "I'm glad I could help, and..." Kingfur's brain was working overtime to find something witty. He wanted to make her laugh again. "I'm glad that you were entertained. That'll make it worth it when he slits my throat in my sleep later tonight."
Rosehiptree grinned again, circling back to his side. "Well at least you'll have died for a worthy cause." Kingfur was going to die right here if she kept smiling at him like that. Would that count as a worthy cause? The tip of his tail flicked rapidly as she approached.
Bolstered by his reciprocated playfulness, Rosehiptree stepped in front of him, brushing the length of her body across his chest, "Of course, if you needed some protection I could always sleep in your nest tonight." Her tail flicked under his chin as she started back to camp once again.
Every fur on Kingfur's pelt stood on end. If he had any brain function at this moment he might worry over his resemblance to a porcupine, but even if he had the mind to do something about it, he couldn't have, as despite feeling like his blood was being heated over a flame, his muscles suddenly seemed to be made of unmovable stone. Perhaps this was a prank, intending to leave him frozen in the middle of this trail for a returning patrol to discover.
"Catch me something while you're out. A puffed up ptarmagin prefferably!" Rosehiptree called to him over her shoulder.
“Y-yeah.” Kingfur stuttered, praying to starclan that his lungs would remember how to work before he passed out. Or at least that he wouldn't topple over before Rosehiptree was out of sight. Mediator heirs weren't supposed to do that, but Kingfur figured that starclan would understand the extenuating circumstances and take pity on him.
That's all for today folks! If you enjoy this I'll do it more! It's a great way for all you background character loving freaks (affectionate) to get some more time with your poor forgotten gays. And it also lets me expand on some ideas that are hard to fit into the comic, like Rosehiptree's complicated feelings about Juneau, which is really fun for me! She's just a heart throb idk what to say. Every man of appropriate age is falling for her. (Except Cave he's too busy being poisoned)
#if you want to have a go at doing art for the next “cut for time” scene#or see some humanized!loudclan art#or participate in something called “fish crimes”#join the discord#loudclan#clangen#cut for time#clan generator#wc clangen#wc oc#wc oc art#warriors oc#warrior cats oc#warrior cats art#clangen art#collaboration#collab
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losing my cool / aaron hotchner
part 2 to playing it cool !!! hope you like it word count: 1.6k pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader genre: angst at first, but fluff!!!!!! cw: more sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, mentions of insecurities
The smile on Aaron’s face slowly fades as he takes in your frozen stance. You’re staring at him like he just shot you in the back and worry starts to fill him, “Honey..?” waving his hand in front of your face, hoping it would be enough to break you out of your stupor.
“Hello?” Still waving his hand in your face, your eyes darted to his. Your body is in a state of shock– in your mind, there’s a tiny version of you desperately digging her way out of a landslide of disbelief. Waves and waves of doubts and insecurities hindering you from processing what is happening.
Aaron watches as your mouth moves with barely any sound coming out. Like a fish out of water, you’re scrambling, “W-what?” That’s… a bit too shaky to be good.
He pauses to think. The doubts are starting to creep up on him.
Maybe he was too rash with his question.
Maybe that wasn’t the best way to spring it on you.
Maybe he should have waited for a better time.
Maybe he should have planned something.
Maybe she isn’t ready.
Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me.
He tries hard to swallow all these dark thoughts, clearing his throat to fake the confidence that’s slowly diminishing, “I said, ‘Marry me.’” After he says those words again he stills, hoping that this time he’ll get an answer. And that.. it would be the answer he so badly wants.
But time slows down and his heart soon follows as he watches tears start to pool in your eyes. You’re shaking your head– they’re tiny shakes and you look panicked. This isn’t good. Not good at all.
He really wasn’t expecting this. It never occurred to him you’d say no. Or ..not yes. Aaron’s mind is running a million miles per hour. He doesn’t know what to do, or say. He barely even knows how he feels. And so he defaults to doing the one thing he does best (as a prosecutor at least): object.
This is triggered by your movement. You move around him, leaving the kitchen towards your living room. Your goal was to sit on the couch, craving some stability as your legs get weaker the more you’re processing what was asked, how you reacted, and how it could be coming across.
But Aaron’s legs are longer than yours. Before you even reach the couch, he’s holding your arm firmly and gently at the same time. He’s got that furrow in his brows that makes him look stern, but his eyes betray him as you can clearly see the worry in them.
“Well yes!” he says in disagreement. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t said yes, and as much as he isn’t the kind of man to ever force a lady into anything, a part of him is scared of what he’ll hear if he asks you why you’re not saying yes.
Though instead of allowing that fear to paralyze him, he allows it to control him. To bear its face because the softer, more rational part of him is hiding.
You’re avoiding his gaze, crossing your arms– you’re turning away from him. “No- Aaron, you– I don– I ca–”
You know he’s studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your face, your neck, your body. He’s taking in everything he can because you’ve given him absolutely nothing so far. And oh how you wish you could voice it all out.
You just wish it was easy to say I don’t think I’m enough for you. What if you realize one day that I’m not good enough? Are you sure? Are you sure about this? About me? What if you start to want someone smarter? Prettier? Hotter? What if you want someone who is as accomplished or important as you? What if you get bored of me? What if–
You’re broken out of your thoughts when he suddenly straightens. He looks as if he’s realized something and the next thing you know you’re hit by a gust of wind because he’s running up the stairs.
Within an instant you run after him. A dozen scenarios are running through your head, the worst being Aaron packing your things because he’s going to ask you to leave. Your heart beats faster as you reach the top of the steps. You peek into your room and see him rummaging through drawers.
Your worries quiet significantly when you realize they’re his drawers. And just when you’re about to approach him, he turns around meeting you halfway. You’re both illuminated by the sunlight that’s coming through the bedroom window you’re standing in front of.
He’s still. He’s got a serious look on his face. You take him in, trying to read him but he’s got his profiler look on– unreadable and determined. His voice rattles you, “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” Firm and devoid of any emotion.
Oh god.
You’re shaking your head, reaching to hold him by his arms. You start to cry, “Aaron please, that’s not what I–” but… he’s going down on one knee.
What?
He watched multiple emotions flicker on your face. Defeat, panic, confusion– “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. I– I planned to do it better than that. I don’t know why I let it slip out, you deserve better than that.”
Before you can process it, Aaron’s holding out a ring. He’s holding your hand in the other while tears are streaming down both your faces. You have no idea how you heard it but you guess it’s simply a testament to how attuned you are to him when he whispers, “Please, please, please. Will you marry me, honey?”
Time stops. Literally. You can feel your heart in your chest beating louder, heavier. It’s pounding as if begging to be heard. Begging to let Aaron know that it beats for him and him only. You’re lowering yourself to kneel before him. You want to see his face properly. His eyes. His nose. His lips. This is the man you love. This is the man you want to marry. Your eyes are simply capturing every angle of this moment.
You’re leveled now. Equals. You grab both his hands in yours and you stare into his brown eyes. You want him to know you mean it, as you nod your head slowly and breathe out, “Yes.” A smile breaks across his face, tears starting to stream again.
You watch him as he tries to put the ring on your finger, getting it on the first try even if his sight is slightly hindered by his tears of happiness and relief. The sun makes the ring sparkle, catching your attention and you look at it properly for the first time.
It’s beautiful. Aaron would argue that the stone screams you – grace, loyalty, peace. He catches your eye and the both of you start to smile. You start to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms snake around your waist.
He buries his head in your neck, breathing in your scent while silently thanking the heavens for granting him this. You break apart, startled to hear tiny footsteps nearing. The both of you start to stand up from the floor, straightening yourselves out and wiping the remaining tears staining your faces.
You both look to the door, waiting for the little boy to show himself. You hear a soft knock right before the door opens slowly, a head peeking in, “Daddy?”
Aaron goes to the door, opening it more for Jack to come in. The little boy goes straight to you and you pick him up in your arms with ease, resting him on your hip. You have your left hand holding him stable, and even though the little boy’s still groggy with sleep he notices the sparkling addition to your hand.
You take notice of how his little face lights up in excitement and you have no idea what about it he understands, “I help Daddy buy you that!” His voice is full of pride, genuinely proud that he had played a part in picking.
You’re confused, not fully understanding what Jack means. Looking to Aaron for an answer, you’re surprised to find him blushing. He looks shy and he’s shrugging at you but you can tell he’s trying hard to play it cool. The smile fighting its way on his face betrays him.
You decide to take your chance on the adorable kid that is now fiddling with your ring, watching in amazement at how much it’s twinkling in the light. Children are the most honest people you know anyway. Pursing your lips with squinted eyes, you investigate “What do you mean, bubba?”
“Daddy asked me what ring pop you want, so I asked you when we watched Spiderman and you said your favorite is the green one so I tell Daddy you want the green one!”
Your heart stutters and the tears start coming in again. Aaron asking Jack for his opinion for your engagement ring. Jack thinking it's a ring pop. Jack asking for your favorite ring pop flavor. Jack being proud that you got the ring you want, pop or not.
Brought out of your thoughts by Jack wanting to leave your hold, you put him down. You watch as he happily walks out of your room, presumably to go to the kitchen. You look at Aaron again, and just as you’re about to say something about what you just found out, you realize one thing. Spiderman.
You gasp. Covering your mouth in surprise, you slap his arm lightly, “That was our third date!”
Aaron laughs loudly, rushing out of the room before you can throw questions at him or even comments about how insane he is. He couldn’t care less. He was right.
a/n: just want to say thank you so much for the love and support i've been getting for my hotch fics!! as someone who's new here, it all means so much to me <33 i recently made a masterlist as i plan to write so much more and branch out to other characters i've been perpetually in love with!! leave requests of what you want to read or characters i can write about, i'd love to write for you guys ◡̈ tagging the people who wanted a part 2 for this: @pear-1206 @dedicatedfangirl2001 u guys are so sweet
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x reader fluff#aaron hotchner x reader angst#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner x reader imagine#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction#aaron hotchner x reader fanfic#aaron hotchner x reader fic#aaron hotchner x reader one shot#aaron hotchner x reader oneshot#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#jack hotchner#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x f!reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader
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Advice For The Heartbroken
: Oh? Hello, Jaune.
Jaune: Hello, Mrs... Miss Schnee. I'd offer my condolences, but I don't think you'd truly care for that.
Willow: No, not at all.
Jaune: I will say you are looking better; you, and this house seems more lively. Like a new wave of fresh air has blown in.
Willow: Yes, the oppressive aura that, Jacques carried about him has been lifted, bring life to my family, and house. Speaking of looking better; I must say I like your new outfit; Is that a, Specialist uniform?
Jaune: Ahh... yes... Yes it is. I recently became a member of the, Specialist as of, Winter's recommendations.
Willow: Oh congratulations, Jaune! That uniform suit you perfectly.
Jaune: Thank you, Misses Schnee.
Willow: Please, Jaune I already told you, you can call me, Willow. No more of this, Misses Schnee business.
Jaune: Alright then... Willow...
Willow: see, that wasn't too hard. Now then, please take a seat, I assume you're here not because of your new position. Perhaps about the odd circumstances around, Jacques's suspicious death?
Jaune: Thank you... and, uhhh no. I'm not aware of anything in regards to, Jacques's death, and the investigation. I'm a, Huntsman, not a detective.
Willow: Thought I should ask, Winter is unable to tell me anything. Something about the: 'Confidentiality pertaining to the ongoing investigation pertaining to the suspicious death of, Jacques Schnee.'
Jaune: In essence: No.
Willow: Precisely~!
Willow: Now then, since you are not here to talk about, Jacques death, what can I help you with, Jaune?
Jaune: Well... Since you mentioned, Winter... I need some help with her...
Willow: Oh, what is wrong? Did my daughter do something to you?
Jaune: Uhhh... kinda...?
Willow: Kinda... what?
Jaune: Winter likes me...
Willow: So? You are a well mannered, polite, respectable young man. There is very little to hate about you, Jaune. So of course she likes you.
Jaune: Uhhh... Winter likes me... As in like-likes me...
Willow: ...
Willow: S-Seriously...?
Jaune: She's blushed in front of me. She's laughed with me, not at me. She's smiled at me. She gave me this sash on my waist. And, I swear on my mother's life; she winked, and said 'tee-hee' at me!
Willow: Holy shit... Winter does like-like you... I can't believe this...
Jaune: Neither can I?
Willow: I picked a wrong time to stop drinking...
Willow: Okay... you have my permission.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: Wha...?
Willow: You have permission to date my daughter.
Jaune: Oh... thank you... B-But, that isn't why I'm here... kinda...?
Willow: Oh? Then what is it, Jaune?
Jaune: I have... absolutely no experience when it comes to romance. If you ask, Weiss about my attempts to, 'whoo' her, you'd whinge in shame at my antics...
Willow: Yes, I do believe I remember hearing, Weiss complaining about that.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: I... I like, Winter... I'm not entirely sure how much I care for her, but I know I do care for, Winter... If there is a possibility of us having a relationship, I want to try... I don't want to miss this chance... not again... So, I came to you to... ask for advice.
Willow: Advice? Why me, couldn't you ask one of your friends for advice?
Jaune: Ha! Ruby has no experience when it comes to love. Weiss, has poor taste in men, and we have that whole history together, not to mention it's about her sister! I can't possibly talk about this with her.
Willow: That would be an ill-advised endeavor to take.
Jaune: Nora, and Ren are out of the question. Nora is pinning for, Ren so hard she might as well become a pine tree. And, people call me dense?! They should take a look at, Ren! A woman is literally fawning over him, and he doesn't see a damn thing!
Willow: Oh, she liked him, I never notice...
Jaune: Don't even get me started on, Blake, and Yang's thing.
Willow: Oh please do, I do love gossip~!
Jaune: Oh, that's right, woman love to gossip; My mother, and sisters love to gossip too.
Jaune: Okay... Blake, and Yang are stuck in this will they won't they situation upon which I don't think they should, because dating, Blake would end up being a part of a very toxic relationship. I mean... Blake is a coward, she has a habit of running away from her problems, and dumping them on others, and refusing to take the blame. Not to mention her past dating experience is horrible! Her first lover was Adam Taurus! A psychotic race supremist terrorist! And, a fanatical lesbian who like, Adam, tried to kill her!
Willow: Oh~? Now isn't this juicy~!
Jaune: Yang has abandonment issues! Her mother abandoned her when she was a child! It would destroy her if, Blake ran away, again! My sister is a lesbian who is married. and in a loving relationship. I told them about, Blake, and Yang, and they looked horrified at the thought of the two of them dating. Not, because its a human, and faunas relationship, because they know how toxic it could be!
Willow: Oh my~! Even the lesbians are looking down on them~! Now things are getting interesting~!
Jaune: Since I don't get involved in their conversations, I just observe. And, I don't like what I'm seeing... Is there a chance they get together, yes. Is there a chance it will be a healthy relationship, maybe... But, I wouldn't bet money on it.
Willow: Ohh~! It's so much fun hearing all the juicy gossip! I feel like I'm a teenager again~!
Jaune: So... I said, I have no experience with dating, so I've come to you for advice. I know you had a toxic relationship with your ex-husband...
Willow: That's an understatement...
Jaune: But, even before that there must have been moments that were happy? Or, the very least you can tell me the does, and don'ts of a relationship. Mostly the don'ts all thing considered...
Willow: ...
Jaune: I know you didn't have a good relationship... But, of everyone I know... You're the only one I can ask.
Willow: Couldn't you ask your sister? She's married after all.
Jaune: Yeah, I ask my sister how she got together with her wife, and...
Willow: She has no idea how it happened?
Jaune: No clue whatsoever.
Willow: Wo you came to me for advice.
Jaune: Yeah, I did.
Willow: Listen, Jaune... I do not understand my daughter well enough to give you advice when it comes to having a relationship with her. I estranged myself from my children when I escaped, Jacque's abuse to the bottle. I am in the middle of trying to rebuild our relationship. I'm learning who my children are, and plan to become. So, I can't tell you what you could do to enter a relationship with her... But, if what you said is true, that if you're making my daughter laugh, and smile. Then you should be together, or at the very least, give it a chance. And, don't regret not taking the chance.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: I don't want to lose that chance again...
Willow: Again?
Jaune: Okay... for now I'll just play it by ear, and see where it will take me... hopefully somewhere nice... Thank you, Willow.
Willow: My pleasure, Jaune. I hope the best for you two. I wouldn't mind you becoming my son in law.
Jaune: O-Oh... Thank you... Now, I best get going there is work to be done.
Willow: Do, Say hello to, Whitely before you leave. He's been wanting to talk to you again.
Jaune: Oh? I'll go do that. Goodbye, Willow.
Willow: Goodbye, Jaune.
Willow: ...
Willow: I wish you the best of luck, Jaune...
#rwby#jaune arc#yang xiao long#blake belladonna#weiss schnee#ruby rose#nora valkyrie#lie ren#willow schnee#jacques schnee#friends au
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yet another JAYVIK post about the Butterfly Effect :3
also spoilers lol
So Hextech isn't invented in Ekko's alternate timeline, and I feel like since life seemed so much better without Hextech there can be a couple things to infer about alternate Jayce and, by association, our Jayce (and Viktor!) here:
this is a long one and my long posts never get notes but i promise its actually super interesting to think about so u should totally read through it 🧎🏻♀️➡️🔥
1. Intriguing:
(and also my favorite one bc its Very JayVik lmao)
alternate Jayce never pursued Hextech after the explosion: maybe too guilty over killing someone (because we see alternate Vi died from that explosion during the kids' robbery), he does what Heimerdinger advises him to: fully admitting his crimes and not mentioning the arcane. And we can assume the academy burned all his studies too becauseeeeee…
Viktor never endorsed it. Assuming the admission of guilt theory is correct- Viktor never would’ve even known about the arcane in the first place, because Jayce would never mention it in the council room trial. Viktor would never know that the arcane can be used to help cure people, which we see is what piques his interest in the first place. And like, obviously Viktor wants to cure his leg and illness lol
Which means Viktor never interrupted Jayce's suicide attempt after the trial and Jayce probably goes through with killing himself, Viktor never went to check on him. It seems the compelling force behind Viktor’s interrupting in season 1 was initially from Jayce’s journal, which he picks up while browsing all the Hextech equipment they were planning to destroy. Viktor only really looks at the notes because he was interested in the arcane in the first place, which again, can't happen if Jayce never mentions it in the council room.
Which is SO important to the plot and me that everything happened the exact way that it did for everything to succeed (which is quite literally the butterfly effect btw lmao). Because it shows how extremely important Jayce and Viktor’s partnership was to not only their own lives, but the entire future of Piltover, good or bad ie no hextech=no shimmer and peace between the cities, hextech= tons of shimmer, the corruption of the arcane, and the destruction of piltover.
Jayce needed someone there to believe in him, and that was Viktor: After the council disagrees with him, and he’s kicked out of the academy and banned from studying the arcane, he tries to find comfort with his mother. She’s the one who was saved using the arcane in the first place after all, so surely she’ll understand. But she tells him to give up on this dream, a dream he’s had almost his entire life. His own mother doesn’t believe in him.
He then goes to the Kiramman’s because “I'll find someone to believe in me,” most likely assuming if they sponsored his studies in the first place, they would still support him after the trial. But they kick him out from the Kiramman household too, as well as forbid his and Caitlyn’s friendship. And with no one left, the very next scene we see of him is as he’s deciding to jump.
The only thing that stops him is Viktor showing up. With an interest in the Hextech theory after he reads Jayce’s notes, Viktor wants to help Jayce make the Hextech a reality. Viktor believes in him, and he supports him. That interaction is what leads to their partnership forming, them sneaking back into the lab, grabbing the Hextech equipment and showing Mel and Heimerdinger that it was possible to create magic, and Mel's influence leading to the council’s support and the okay on continuing to develop Hextech together, projecting Piltover into success (and of course accelerating it into ruin, seen in s2. but I won’t get into that snowballing effect here because we’ll be here for hours)
Also, Viktor would be against Hextech if his first and only introduction to seeing it was as a tool to invoke harm (on a Zaunite especially). Which is what would drive Viktor away from investigating it, and before their theory ever even has the chance to get off the ground or evolve, it's already dead in the water for good because:
Something both of them, but especially Viktor, have been extremely against during the entire show was that their plans for Hextech WILL NOT be used as weapons to kill or harm, only to make lives better (especially in the undercity). Think about it: Viktor only adamantly opposed using the Hexcore AFTER it killed Skye.
The guilty conscience of accidentally killing another person with his own technology would not have helped Jayce’s mental state either lol. Like, think about the DIRECT PARALLEL in our timeline: where Viktor almost jumps and kills himself, after Skye's death, as a result of his tampering with the Hexcore, before Jayce interrupts him (ohhh their mirroring, it hurts me)
2. Adjacent:
If not from jumping, then alternate Jayce was arrested or exiled… I mean like, he inadvertently killed a young Zaunite girl. That's a lot more consequential to his conscience, reputation, house name AND criminal record than just the building blowing up in our timeline. It’s pretty vague if anyone died in our timeline from it, I think the most that’s mentioned is some people were injured (“Was anyone hurt?” “A building was blown to bits, what do you think?”) so it would weigh heavier on Jayce’s shoulders if someone actually died in this timeline.
Also remember: he felt so guilty about accidentally killing a child with his hammer in s1, that he gave up entirely on trying to wipe out the production of Shimmer. Once he sees how his Hextech can be used against someone, he drops all his plans because "thats not what we created Hextech for"
From that theory, I'm assuming more-so that he was exiled though? Because Heimerdinger said he was in the alternate timeline for like 3 years and couldn't find Jayce, so I don't know... plus I feel like he would have found Jayce in jail if he was there lol.
And beforeeeee anyone yaps, ik Heimerdinger actually said he thinks Jayce ended up somewhere else, and never specifically stated that he "couldn't find Jayce". BUT from the end, since we see two Ekko's before he goes back to the main timeline, we can assume that the original person's mind inhabits the other's body so that there aren't like paradoxical two people in one place at the same time.
SO theoretically, Heimerdinger actually does go looking for Jayce, and if he found the alternate timeline's Jayce, he probably would've mentioned it to Ekko when asked if Jayce was there too… right? I’m assuming he was hanging around Ekko for most of the 3 years that he was there, waiting for our Ekko to be projected into the alternate Ekko, because it's not like Heimerdinger just happened to show up right when our Ekko gets there, he might’ve assumed it would happen eventually. And when the alternate Ekko starts freaking out about being in the wrong universe, it's pretty clear that this is his Ekko now lol
But then why stick around Ekko and not Jayce? I guess he was currently closer to Ekko, calling him his current pupil, and given that he was the one who showed him the Firelights community and gave him hope. Plus I mean, Jayce literally voted him off the council from a disagreement over the Hexcore so there's some salt in the wound there lmao. Or maybe because Ekko is a lot younger and would not react as calmly or rationally as Jayce would (I'm assuming... idrk HAHA). You could argue that Heimerdinger was just visiting both of them back and forth, but again if he couldn't find any Jayce, then I think it would explain why he doesn’t mention any Jayce at all, and that's where this make the most sense, at least to me.
3. Lesser:
alternate Jayce also died in the explosion with Vi- When we see it in our timeline, he and Vi were the closest to the blast. If it killed Vi, it would’ve presumably killed Jayce too. And if he did die, then obviously Hextech would never be invented, reasons being: everything I just mentioned in the previous theories.. but like, even more simplified bc he wasn't there to begin with lol
I only say it's a weaker theory because Heimerdinger definitely would've seen a memorial for him (or at the very least a gravestone), given Jayce was in the Talis house and under the study of the Kiramman family, it was a pretty high status name compared to the average Piltovian citizen, and probably wouldn’t be silenced or brushed away…
Although to counter that, I guess since everything in the over city is super status-y, maybe the Kiramman’s wouldn't want their name being tied with the death of two people, which is a similar but obviously more significant reason to why they kicked him out of their house in our timeline after the trial, his “name is no good now.” Plus we hear in the council trial from Ximena that the Talis family is a lower house too, and their voice doesn’t hold as much weight, so maybe it wouldn’t actually have that much mention? He hasn’t become the “Man of Progress” yet either since he’d never get to finish his studies…hmmmmm idk
anyway thats all i have. if you made it this far i greatly appreciate you :3 🫶🏻 i love analyzing this show because OUGH the jayvik butterfly effect goes CRAZY HARD bc its both figurative with the theory and literal with the butterflies being in SO MUCH of their imagery UGHHHHH what the FUCKKKK
#BTW ! whether u ship them or not (this wasnt really supposed to be a shippost) u cant rlly ignore the importance of their whole relationship#nd yeah i used the jayvik word but its really (to ME and for ME) to describe them together (partners or /Partners/ bc it works either way)#the way this literally took like 4 whole hours to write omfg how do youtube analysts do this holy fuck#i just checked an this is 1600 words LMFAO ??? someone tell me to stfu#arcane#arcane season 2#arcane s2#arcane spoilers#arcane season two#arcane league of legends#league of legends#heimerdinger#heimerdinger arcane#ekko#ekko arcane#jayce talis#jayvik#viktor#viktor arcane#viktor and jayce#jayce and viktor#jayce arcane#arcane season 2 act 3#the butterfly effect#kats movie rants#hextech#arcane meta#akascane#karcane
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James Potter x slytherin!reader
Summary: His ambition was to want what he could not have. James was the greatest proof of that.
Warnings: Platonic Love, Angst
Materlist
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“How are you even in Slytherin?” Sirius exclaimed, visibly exasperated.
You sighed, already used to that same old tune. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this discussion, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. But was a little peace too much to ask? It was the last day of summer, with the deliciously warm sun shining in a bright blue sky, and a cool lake right in front of you. Surely, they could find better things to do.
“Get over it,” you retorted with a dismissive wave of your hand, taking the opportunity to adjust the hat on your head.
Sirius clutched his chest with exaggerated flair, as if your words had struck him. Always so dramatic.
“So cruel. I’m starting to worry that spending so much time in that snake pit has done irreparable damage—ow!”
He let out a yelp as you threw an empty plastic bottle at him, hitting him square in the chest and leaving a red mark blooming on his skin.
“Bloody hell, that hurt!” He shot you a wounded look. “I think I’m starting to understand now.”
“You asked for it, Padfoot,” James said, his tone dry, a subtle smirk curling at the edges of his lips.
James. Always him. Always there.
“Wow, why am I not surprised? You’re always ready to defend your protégé, aren’t you, Potter?” Sirius quipped.
You looked down, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. It was silly—you knew it was—but it was inevitable. James was your friend. Just that: a friend. And nothing more. Ever.
Sirius would never really understand, you thought, as a small, awkward laugh escaped your lips. In truth, none of the Marauders seemed to grasp how someone as sweet as you had ended up in Slytherin. But what they couldn’t see was the fierce ambition smoldering deep inside you—ambitions greater than you could bear, ambitions that burned like embers hidden beneath ashes. It was those embers that had made the Sorting Hat whisper decisively about the House of the Serpent. You’d never told them, but you knew the reason.
Your ambition was wanting what you could never have. James was the ultimate proof of that.
“Lily would love this,” James suddenly said, pointing up at the sky as he watched the clouds with a smile. “The colors, the light… She likes things like this.”
Your chest tightened. The smile on his face as he spoke about Lily was almost too painful to witness. He seemed lost in thought, as if her presence were a star he was always trying to reach, even when it was galaxies away. But you were good at hiding your feelings. You always had been.
“She really likes lakes?” Sirius teased. “How fascinating, Prongs. Maybe we should get a private one for the wedding.”
James laughed, the sound ringing out like a melody across the valley. Even when Sirius teased, he never concealed his admiration for Lily. You, on the other hand, felt every word like a needle piercing the fragile barrier around your heart.
James turned to you, smiling in that way only he could—so warm, so unassuming. He ruffled your hair lightly, a gesture he’d been doing since your first years at Hogwarts.
“You’re awfully quiet today. Something about the water spooking you?”
You shook your head, trying to mask the flush creeping across your face. He was so close, the sunlight glinting off the droplets of water on his bare chest. James had changed over the years, growing taller and broader, his lean muscles rippling with every subtle movement. He was only wearing swim trunks, and the sight alone made your heart race.
“Just enjoying the warmth, James. Unlike you, I don’t feel the need to make noise all the time.”
“She’s got you there, James,” Sirius chuckled.
The relief was fleeting, but the sense of closeness lingered in the air. You could hardly look at him directly, because every moment by his side was a silent battle between yearning and reality. He’d never know—he could never know.
Later, when you finally gave in to James’s insistence and waded into the lake, things momentarily felt lighter. He splashed around you, tugging on your arm to lead you into the deeper water. At one point, his hands found your waist to steady you, and the feeling of his touch burned into your memory. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.
“You’re looking too serious again,” he said, swimming alongside you. “I don’t like it when you get like this.”
You forced a smile, trailing your fingers across the lake’s crystalline surface.
“I’m fine, James,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. “I’m always fine.”
He looked at you, his expression softening. And there was something in that look, something that made you want to believe—just for a fleeting moment—that maybe he could truly see you. But then he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, and said with the same gentle voice he always used:
“You’re important to me, you know that?” He remained close, the pads of his fingers pressed gently against her chin, lifting her head so their eyes could meet. “Don’t forget that.” You nodded weakly, intoxicated by his closeness. Even in the cool water, he radiated warmth.
If only he knew… If only he knew those words only fed your foolish hope.
Hours later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the conversation turned once more to Lily, you drifted away. Sitting at the lake’s edge, watching the reflection of the sky shift from gold to purple, Sirius’s words echoed in your mind: “How are you even in Slytherin?”
But you knew. You knew you’d been chosen because of the ambitions that consumed you. You wanted everything, and yet you knew you’d never have anything. Because no matter how deep your yearning for love, it was just a foolish dream.
You looked at James in the distance, his laughter filling the air. And then, almost inaudibly, you whispered to yourself, as if trying to bury the thought forever:
“They were nothing but foolish ambitions.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#marauders#prongs x reader#atj x reader#atj#aaron johnson#aaron taylor johnson#writing#fanfiction
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you get me. you GET me. you get me so much i screamed when you laid down what you got. UGHHH. literally i hope to write more fics that will interest you because UGHHHHH you just get meeeeeeee its sooo goodddd
i also i too use girl as gender neutral sLAYYY.
I'm so happy you love the cargyll twins 🥺🫶🫶
The way we always see her as *herself*, beyond her ailment, beyond her concerns of putting up an act, both as a Hightower daughter and/or a Targaryen wife. She's just herself, without being worried that she's disappointing Otto or Daemon.
this is it. this is literally how i envisioned their dynamic to be yknow. when you commented on this once before i leapedddddd for joy it LEAPED really. you get me. you get meeee.
she's just a girl when she's with them. just a girl who loves to swim and pick flowers. did you actually sob cos of the scene with erryk? 🫂🫂🫂 but also... love that for me HAHAHAH.
(I don't even want to think about the fact that the last time she experienced something like this was probably in old town w gwayne when they were children)
dw. i like to think the sibs snuck out to go for a swim for the last time before she was married to daemon. to cheer her up yknow. alicent was there too <3
I love the way you portray Otto's relationship [...]
THISSSSSSSS. THISSSS. YOU JUST GET MEEEE T_T SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. I literally JUST ranted about this to my friend that everyone is like 'daemon is trying' WHAT ABOUT OTTO I WROTE HIM THAT WAY TOO AND YOU JUST 😫😫😫😫😫 FUCKK YOU GETTT MEEEEEe
[...] with the reader because he's not black and white with his motives, only using his daughter to raise his House's standing. Rather, he's a complex character with layers, he's still a father - albeit a shitty one at that.
YOURE SOOOOOO ON POINT WITH EVERYTHING LITERALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY i thought it was really important to expound on this because DAEMON IS LITERALLY OTTO TO HER!!! BUT IN A WAY BETTER BECAUSE AT LEAST DAEMON IS CAPABLE OF SOME SORT OF AFFECTION. she's like 'ok my dad treats me this way, ergo my husband treating me this way is fine' !!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is so important fr fr because we accept the love we think we deserve.
He loves his daughter, in his own twisted way. How he ensures that she's not having a fit before dropping the baby bomb on her. He worries for her, knows her ticks.
💯 no notes
But it's the way he uses his love and knowledge regarding her to get his own way and to get the reaction he wants out of her that's the most twisted.
THIS!!!!!! ok im so fucking excited i just want to tell you BUT ALL WILL BE REVEALED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER IVE BEEN BUILDING THIS SHIT UP FOR SO LONG IM SO FUCKING GLAD YOU CAUGHT ON IM GOING TO FUCKING CRY.
Also, I love how we're seeing mc slowly but surely starting to stand up for herself. WE LOVE GROWTH IM SO PROUD OF HER, I COULD CRY.
<3 but also..... who's gonna tell her (not me)
Day 173822 of begging daemon to just be normal for once in his life.
ur so me fr bestie
Honestly speaking, I was one of the few that voted for reader to prioritise herself and not go after either gwayne or daemon but ohh!!! I loved loved loved this scene.
🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯 AS YOU SHOULD. AS YOU FUCKING SHOULD. I WAS AND AM STILL ACTUALLY VERY GAGGED THAT THAT POLL WOUND UP THAT WAY. SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING TOTALITARIANISM BECAUSE THIS DEMOCRACY AINT WORKING FOR ME CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNN COMFORT DAD BOI DAEMON???????? YUCKKK i mean i get it but DAMNNNN?????
her whole arc with gwayne was rough. spolier? i dont plan on bringing him back at all so </3 if he comes back well 😬😬 shits about to go down
ALSO DAEMON YOU LITTLE RAT,
HAHAHHAHAHHAHAH YOU LIKE ME FR FR FR I TOO CALL HIM RAT HAHAHAHAH AND EVERYONE ELSE THAT FUCKING PISSES ME OFF
YOU HAVE NO RIGHT BEING MAD AT MY GIRL FOR NOT BEING THERE WHEN YOU DEGRADED HER THE LAST TIME AND NOT IN THE SEXY WAY!!!!
😬 yeesh fr.
Her telling him to speak what he wants and not twist his words is soooo real. YES GIRLL SET IT STRAIGHT WE DONT WANT EXTRA HEADACHES IN OUR LIVES!!
🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯 AGAIN AND AGAIN YOU GET ME YOU DONT MISSSSSSSS
I just remembered that she still thinks that night was a dream and I'm heartbroken again </3
dw. she'll find out it wasnt a dream.............. eventually
Pls daemon why do you have to choose aggression and rage every fucking time. Just be cute for once ugghhh.
UR LITERALLY ME FRRR HAHAHHAHHAHA
EVEN THE LINE YOU QUOTEDDDD i feared people might overlook it BUT YOU SAW. YOU GET ME. AND THATS MORE THAN ENOUGH.
I am so honored to have gotten your lovely reblog. i will 100% tag you my love. i'm glad you like my fic and my brain and my words. i love you so much. literally if there is something you want to see in this fic, just tell me and i'll make it happen for you fr fr.
Tormented Spirit | 7
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3
@arabellasleopardcoat
Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.
He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.
"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."
Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.
"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.
Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"
"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"
"HOPSCOTCH!"
A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.
"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.
You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."
Erryk's face only contorts further.
"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."
In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.
"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."
He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."
You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."
Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."
You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.
He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."
You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.
He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"
He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.
You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"
Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"
Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"
"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."
You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."
Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."
"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"
Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."
"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.
"Say what?" you knit your brows.
Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."
Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.
You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"
"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."
Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"
Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."
You feel bile rise up your throat.
"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."
You shake your head, and gather your skirts.
"As has the prince."
Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.
As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.
You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.
Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"
You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"
"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."
"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."
Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"
"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."
He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."
You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"
"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.
Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"
Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"
You stare blankly at him.
He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"
You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."
Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.
You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.
"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"
You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."
Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."
Your jaw clenches.
"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."
You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"
He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."
You whip your head to him and pull away.
Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.
"W-what?"
He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."
You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.
"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."
Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.
You try to take his hand, but he slips away.
"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.
Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.
"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.
You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"
"Perhaps you should sit down first."
You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.
"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.
You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.
"Princess, please, slow down," one says.
You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.
"Princess."
You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.
You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.
Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.
It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.
You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."
He stares at you wordlessly.
You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.
He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."
You nod, "I know."
"Go to him," he says softly.
"I-"
"Go to him!" he snaps.
You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.
Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.
"If it is your command, I shall obey."
He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."
You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."
Daemon does not move.
"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."
It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.
You stare.
"You do not want to go to him?"
Your lips part.
He raises his brows.
"I... I do."
Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.
The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.
"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.
Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.
The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.
Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"
Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.
"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.
He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.
"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."
He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."
"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.
Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.
Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"
His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."
"I'm fine."
"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.
You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."
You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"
"No."
You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,
"This is glass."
"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"
Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."
You pull your head back, "on accident?"
"On purpose," he tilts his head.
You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"
He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."
You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.
It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."
"..."
"You were not there."
You do not tear your gaze from his injury.
He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"
You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"
Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.
You continue wrapping up his hand.
"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.
"Why?"
His brows furrow.
"Why was I being a bitch?"
"..."
You spare him a quick glace.
He pulls his head back, "... what?"
"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"
His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?
You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.
Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?
You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."
Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.
"How do you feel?"
He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.
"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."
He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.
You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."
His eyes meet yours.
"I am here to care and comfort you."
He leans back, taken by the thought.
You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."
His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."
You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.
"I don't-"
"Daemon."
He stills.
You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.
He feels himself getting hard.
"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.
Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.
You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"
"I..." he starts.
You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.
"...wanted you to come to my tent."
You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."
"I want you."
You nod, "I will tend to you—"
Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.
He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.
Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.
You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."
He hums, nipping your flesh in response.
You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"
He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.
"Please, Daemon, wait-"
"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"
Your breath hitches as he sinks down.
"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"
"I- that's not-"
"Do you or do you not?"
"I... I do—"
You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.
He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.
You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.
Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.
Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.
You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.
Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.
"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.
You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.
He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.
Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.
At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.
His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.
"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.
He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.
You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.
"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."
You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."
Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."
He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.
"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."
You begin to grit your teeth.
"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.
It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.
He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.
You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.
You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.
Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"
You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."
Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.
The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."
You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."
Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"
You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"
He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"
You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"
Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."
You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"
His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.
"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."
His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"
"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."
When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decided to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.
Your heart races as he takes your hand.
"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."
You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."
He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.
"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."
He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.
He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.
"Daemon."
He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.
You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"
"I will stay."
You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."
He frowns, wiping your tears.
When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards.
"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.
He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."
#prettybiching cutie#prettybiching my beloved#tormented spirit#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon smut#you can have my heart#n my kidney
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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)
Series Masterlist | Previous episode
Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? Not proofread
Chapter 68: Mysteries and Mayhem
Friday, 14th, 1977
“I think we have to tell her,” Evan said as he threw the quaffle towards the canopy of the bed and caught it again.
“We don’t have to tell her anything,” Barty retorted. He was working on Evan’s desk and had his back to him. He always revised Evan’s essays since Evan had mild dyslexia and a tendency to confuse the names of some ingredients along with the position of TH and HT at the end of some words. Evan was brilliant at Potions, but the memoir writing had always been tricky for him.
“She would tell us if she knew about something like this,” he said as he caught the ball and threw it upwards again. Regulus’ snitch was floating around the room since it had accidentally gotten out from its chest when Evan opened it to take the quaffle. It always helped him destress to play with it, but he never bothered with the snitch, he thought it was too small and a pain in the ass to chase.
“She wouldn’t tell us shit,” Barty responded. “She doesn’t like to meddle.”
“But she has meddled, and in our favour, you know this!”
“Please stop it with the quaffle,” Barty said with a sigh. Evan stopped throwing it and placed it on the side of the bed, now rolling it around with his hand. “It’s none of our business what they do behind closed doors. And we would be outing those two if we told her.”
“How would you feel, I was cheating on you with Dorcas?”
“I’d break her neck,” Barty retorted without hesitation.
Evan wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it as a joke or not, but chose to believe he did. “Right, see? She should know!”
“She’s the dumb one for not noticing.”
“It is not something you normally expect. Especially not if you were born in the wizarding elite.”
“Evan,” Barty whined. “Why should we care? We’ve done our good deed of the century by shutting stupid Severus up about it.”
“I’m gonna tell her,” Evan said with determination.
“And you’ll just accomplish what Severus wanted.”
“I know you don’t like her–”
“You don’t like her either.”
“Well, she’s conceited and loves to rub how good she is at flying but… I never expected her to help me the way she did.”
“So what? You’re gonna go braid each other’s hair, is that it?” Evan threw the quaffle at Barty’s head, the latter got the hit unexpectedly and turned around to him as he gasped. “You’re such a git! I’m trying to check your homework.”
“You’re no better,” Evan retorted. “It’s just– I wouldn’t want people laughing behind my back.”
“Maybe she knows and they’re using her as a cover,” Barty said, although he didn’t believe it.
“Impossible. She’s for sure in love with that dick. I mean I knew he was an asshole but–”
“Not to the point of using someone like that?” Barty offered. “I think we really shouldn’t meddle. We’ve somehow reached a ceasefire, you don’t want to start shooting again, do you?”
“She helped me! Even after the fire, my dad seemed pleased at the insinuation that we– you know.”
Barty sighed, standing from the desk and walking towards his bed, the same bed Evan considered as his own most of the time. “If you really want to tell her, then I’ll come along with you.”
Evan smiled and lifted himself up to press a short kiss on Barty’s lips. As they were pulling apart the door busted open and Barty appeared a book on his lap and started saying something about a spell.
“It’s just Regulus,” Evan said as he tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t you see the busy sign on the door?”
“I did,” Regulus responded. “Decided to ignore it, though.”
“I swear it runs in the family,” Evan said with an eye roll. He liked Regulus, but that didn’t stop him from thinking he was a bit of an entitled prick, much like his brother.
And Evan himself, according to Barty. Who in turn, was also considered one by the rest of his class. Either way, they consider themselves an acquired taste, after all, Evan had hated Barty’s guts before falling in love.
“Shhh...” Regulus said as he lifted his hand. “I think I hear something?”
“What?” Asked Evan.
“The sound of two tossers who are about to go use someone else's room to make out.”
“Bitch,” Barty said as he threw the quaffle his way.
Regulus was fast enough to dodge and then noticed his snitch floating around. “For Salazar’s sake! How many times have I told you not to let the Little Star out?”
“Little Star?” Evan asked.
“The snitch,” Retorted Barty a little exasperated.
“You named your snitch little star?” Evan asked in disbelief. “Is that because you’re the big star? You’re such a nerd!” Regulus flipped his wand, the green covers on Barty’s bed slipped from beneath him and threw him on the floor. “A mean nerd.”
Fridays could have been your favourite day of the week, your first class was at 9 rather than at 7, which meant you didn’t have to wake up remarkably early, even if you were still doing practice flying with James and Sirius. And although classes didn’t end early, your last class was among your favourites, and the one before lunch was Magic Theory, which meant more time to spend playing around. The real problem was the 9 am class, divination.
You’d gotten used to Spellman, and it seemed like he had also gotten used to you. The pressure that he seemed to be putting on you at the beginning of the course had slowly dissipated, and even if you still had good grades in his class, since you’d seen most divination techniques with your previous teacher, he seemed to focus a lot more on Sybil, which you were insanely grateful for.
And unlike you, Sybil seemed to actually want to pursue a career in divination, which Spellman supported as dutifully as any good teacher would.
“Hey!” She said as you walked inside. You had a bottle of almost boiling green tea in hand since the day had been pretty chilly while flying and even after Lily cast that warming charm over your coat, you were still shivering slightly.
“Hi!” you retorted with a smile as you sat beside her. Since that one class when you’d gotten paired, you had been working together on every single class, which you thought was excellent.
Sybil’s father, Deplhus Trelawney, was an unofficial member of the order, and he’d told Sybil what’d happened at the party. Besides, it didn’t take an empath to notice how it had flipped your world almost upside down. So she avoided the basic “How did your break go?” question since she knew it would be a terrible one. It was obvious that it had gone mostly like shit. It did make her feel better that you looked like you were coping, whoever it was that you were.
“Want some tea? It’s got a little bit of milk.”
“Sure,” she said with a smile and pulled a mug from the cupboard. Those were technically for divination, but some students used them every once in a while for their morning coffee, and since that was the one thing that kept some awake, Spellman allowed it. As you served she noticed the wand you’d placed on the side of your desk. She stared at it for a second and then turned back to you.
“I can explain that,” you rushed out, almost stumbling with your words.
“I’m glad you have it,” she said with a smile. “I’d hate it if it had been lost at their hands.”
“You know about–”
“I know enough,” she replied. “We don’t have to talk about that, though.”
You nodded with a small smile, “Thanks.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” she said simply.
“How was your break?” you asked.
“We stayed home,” she responded. “We had dinner and then a small tea ceremony at New Year’s. Grandma thinks it’s the best way to start the year.”
“Doesn’t she read your star chart? Mine used to do that.”
“Oh certainly.”
“Anything good?”
“She said this might be the year my talents finally bloom,” Sybil said sceptically. “She’s a brilliant divinator on everything else, but she’s been telling me that since I was 13.”
You laughed. “My mom she–” There was a small hesitation before you continued. Still not used to living in a world where she didn’t. You’d been in boarding schools since you were eleven, and although you were relatively used to her absence, it had never been this long without a letter, or a message, or any type of contact. “She used to say that it was going to be the year I got good at herbology every year.”
“Did it ever happen?”
“Still waiting,” you retorted with a half smile. “She, on the other hand, is– was really good at it. We used to have a stunning garden, and she’d often get angry about me plucking her stuff for make believe potions.”
She was about to say something when Professor Spellman walked inside the classroom, his robe trailing behind him in that elegant manner that it tended to have whenever he walked inside a room. “This is not a picnic Miss Doxon, please put your cookies in your bag or I’ll vanish them.”
“‘M sorry,” she retorted as she placed one of the cookies in her mouth and placed the rest on her bag.
Spellman nodded, walking straight to the middle of the classroom before eying everyone. “How long have we kept this sitting arrangement?” he asked.
“Most of the year,” responded a Ravenclaw boy. “I was actually wondering if we would change soon.”
“Divination is often done better when you keep your partner, it becomes easier since you already know a good deal about them,” Sybil said.
“So we’re not changing?” asked Beth.
“Not quite,” Spellman said later. “Although we have had some wonderful pairs so far, for this class in particular it’s better to work with someone to whom you’ve never divined before.”
You threw a look at Sibyl who just shrugged. She was curious about who she’d be divining for. Hoping it wouldn’t be someone to closed off to the art, which was, unfortunately, rather common.
“What are we going to work with, Professor?” asked Tom.
“Spanish Deck,” he replied rather somberly.
You looked up at him as if you were a deer trapped in headlights. Reading someone’s cards was something you thought you’d ever have to do again. Sybil looked at you apprehensively. “Sir, can I keep working with my partner? I think we’re both quite–”
“I’m sorry Sybil, It is not possible, your deep knowledge of each other might taint the cards.”
“But we’re all friends,” said Tom. “We all have a pretty deep knowledge of each other.”
“Not in divination,” said Spellmam calmly. “Please, stand up and make two lines. The left will take runes from this side and the right from this one.”
You walked into the line in which Sybil wasn’t, but Spellman caught it and put the two of you in the same line seconds later. “I’m sorry, but you cannot be in the same team,” he said to you as he placed his hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you to the other line.
As you walked through the line, you crossed your fingers, almost begging the gods of chance that you didn’t get anyone you were close to. You took your stone, it was one of the trickiest characters in the Norse Alphabet. Two lines with an X in the middle: degaz.
“I’ve got Isa,” said Sybil, who got paired with Lily.
“I have Jara,” said Sirius, and ended up with Tom.
“It’s an R,” said Peter.
“Do you mean Raido?” asked Remus as he showed him his stone, the two of them got together.
Marlene and Mary were paired with some Ravenclaws and Beth with one of her roommates. You thought you were safe, that you wouldn’t have to read the fortune of any of your friends when James pulled his stone up in the air and asked. “Does anyone have Degaz?”
You closed your eyes in defeat, a small frown adorning your face as you opened them again. “Me,” you said as you lifted your stone.
“Lovely,” James said as he approached you with a smile. “Have you ever read the Spanish Deck?”
“Yeah,” you responded. “But I’d much rather be the one that gets a read and not the other way around?”
“Sure,” James said with a shrug and a nod. He could tell there was something that made you uneasy, and while he didn’t really care for getting his cards read, it wasn’t a huge deal for him to do the reading.
Spellman flipped his wand and the chairs changed their places, they were now one in front of the other instead of side by side. “Please take your seats,” he said. “The books on Spanish Deck will be on your desks shortly.”
Since Lily and Sybil took the chair you normally used, James and you walked towards the one in the back where he usually sat with Sirius.
“Please shuffle the cards, Madame,” he said after he dug his finger into the flap of the side of the small box, pulled them out and moved the whole deck towards you. “These are kind of worn, though,” he said as he spotted some scribblings on the side of one and flipped it back into place.
“It’s better when they are,” you said as you took them in your hands. You started to shuffle them mindlessly, not bothering to look at them while you spoke. “The more time they’ve been shuffled the more magic they’re imbued with. Of course, it’s better when the deck belongs to one witch and not the entire school, since that can make them a bit unpredictable but either way, the older they are, the better they become at–”
“How are you doing that?” James asked as you flipped the cards from one side to the other, he seemed completely enthralled by the way you were shuffling them. “Since when can you shuffle like this? Why didn’t I know?”
“Oh,” you said as you finally noticed what you were doing. “They made me read these a lot in my older school. I got fidgety sometimes. Tarot too, but you can’t shuffle them as much since they’re thicker.”
“Still they’re easier to read,” James said as he flipped through some of the pages in the book that had floated towards the table a few minutes earlier. “These all have so many different meanings. I mean the 2 of clubs means that you might travel but the third means love, and the 6 means despondency and destruction. It makes zero sense.”
“The third kind of does,” you said as you pulled out the card for him to see. Three clubs tied to each other with a thick ribbon. “Doesn’t it remind you of the ties and connections related to love?”
“I don’t know…” James responded with a shrug, “I guess it kind of does.”
You flipped the card back into the deck and shuffled it by splitting it into two smaller lots, placing them on the table, taking one end and allowing cards from both sides to fall on the table at the same time, having them entwine together, and then turning your hands and flipping them all into one single stack.
“That’s it,” James said as you handed them back to him. “You’ll be the dealer next time we play cards, no objections.” You laughed and shook your head as he looked back at the book. He placed them on the table again. “Please divide them in three.”
You did, and afterwards knocked on each stack once as you said “For me, For my past and for what I’d like to know.”
“Oh, thanks,” James said when he noticed what you’d done. “Uh… Which type of throw was that for?”
“Gypsy, that’s a 9 by 4.” You responded. “You throw them starting on the left, and when you’re done with that row you continue on the right, making a long chain, or a snake, I suppose.”
James gave you a small side smirk and started placing the cards one by one, facing him. When he was done he looked up at you, adjusting his glasses and biting the side of his cheek.
“Well go on,” you said.
“It says you can assign cards to people…”
“I’m the 8 of swords,” you told him. “I’m always the 8 of swords.”
“Why?” Asked James curiously.
“I’ve been told it represents me,” you retorted.
“Ah, it’s because you’re stubborn,” he said as he found the page with the card’s explanation.
“It’s perseverance, Prongs!”
“Perseverance, tenacity, stubbornness… they’re all the same thing in different degrees of intensity.”
You laughed as you shook your head. “Fine then, you’re here,” he pointed at the card. “And this throw is about your past, right?”
“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “At least on this technique, we’re supposed to make three throws.” You looked back at the cards. “What do you see?”
“Eh, well… you look… sad,” he said as he noticed the sheer amount of clubs beside your card. There was a 6 right next to you, and on the other side, there was a four of swords. “That means trouble, right?” He asked as he pointed at it.
“Yeah,” you said, being completely appalled and in deep sorrow was quite on par with how you’d been not too long ago.
“There’s also a– a trip,” he started, pointing at the 2 of clubs below you, and just under that there was a 6 of cups. “Cups!” he said excitedly. “Cups are meant to be good, right?”
“Not those,” you said. “It’s a trip to melancholy, sadness over bad memories,” you explained, which was also quite accurate, and not new to either of you.
“Right, but next to these swords we have a three of clubs, that means love, yeah?”
“But it’s next to the swords that indicate trouble,” you said as you pointed at the swords next to it. “It means trouble with relationships. And that 5 of swords on the other side, with the middle sword pointing straight towards the clubs? It means break up and changes.”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked in disbelief. “Is there anything good on this throw?” There was a small minute of silence before he spoke again. “This one has to mean something good, there’s a lot of gold at the top. And sixes are bad, but that’s to the top left, so it means that the bad stuff was in the past, right?”
“Yeah, 6 of gold means problems, but it’s next to an 8 that’s right on top of me.”
“That means–” he flipped through some pages. “thought and reflection, and that has a 5 of gold afterwards, which means settlement, and resolution. And… you have to hear this: The discovery of a significant emotional bond.”
“Must have been the mirror,” you said as you looked at the coins. “And the fact that I figured the whole thing out with Remus and Sirius.”
“Are they here?” he asked as he looked at the cards.
“Probably,” you responded as you looked around. “Must be these two, look,” you said as you pointed at the gold knight, whose face was turned towards you from your down left, and the knight of swords who was next to him. “See how the horses are looking at each other but they’re avoiding each other’s gaze?”
“Mhm,” James nodded.
“It’s because they’re in love, the horse represents their heart’s true desires, I think. The 4 of cups under Remus represent his… um… desire. And the 4 of clubs under Sirius represent his resistance to it.”
“You really are good at this,” he said as he stared at the throw. “You see anything else?”
“No, you?”
“Well this Ace of clubs and 9 of swords together mean something bad,” he said pointing at the cards that were beside the 6 of cubs you got at first. “And there’s a person right above them, a Jack of Gold, that represents a woman, right?”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “9 of swords and ace of clubs can mean a life-altering situation.”
“And if they’re next to a 4 of swords,” he read, “It can even mean dea–”
“Must be Nina,” you said, pointing at the Jack. “Jack of Gold often represents a fair woman, clever. Suits her, doesn’t it?”
He looked at you, apprehension in his eyes as he rolled his tongue over his cheek. “Should we go for the next throw?” he offered.
“Yes,” you said, turning back to him. “These are not the fondest of my memories.”
“You can read mine if you want instea–”
“No,” you said almost too quickly, interrupting James mid-sentence. “I mean, this is fine. I much prefer being on this side of the deck.”
“You never liked divination much, did you?” He asked as he gathered the rest of the cards.
“Not much,” you admitted. “It’s a family thing,” you said. “Nan always divined for bad things, my mum for goods, and I always get the bad stuff too.”
“Maybe you don’t look for the good?”
“Trust me, I look for the good. But for some reason, I still get the bad stuff.”
“Well then, I’ll be your seer,” he said as he passed you a bunch of cards. “Please, shuffle them again,” he added solemnly.
“You really could open your own reader stand,” you said with a laugh. “He didn’t look much like a “seer” but with the right clothing? Perhaps switching his school robes and his go-to red Converse with something like Professor Spellman’s clothes. Maybe some gold bracelets and a fake earring. He could definitely pull off the look.
“You’re staring at me weird,” he said as you placed the cards on the table and divided them into three smaller stacks.
“For me, for my present, and for what I’d like to know,” you said while knocking on the stacks and then turned to him. “I was just imagining you on a dress.”
“Why?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes on you.
“For the authentic seer look,” you said with a shrug.
He hummed unsatisfactorily in return and started throwing your cards. “You know,” he started as he placed a king of clubs, “I look delightful in a dress.”
“Bet.”
“Honest,” he said as he placed yet another card onto the floor. “I have mean calves and a nice waist.”
“Yeah?” you asked, trying not to laugh.
“Some need corsets for a nice waist, I got mine with hours of quidditch.”
“Fascinating!”
“Yes and–” he turned to you, noticing the small smile creeping on your lips. “Are you making fun of me?”
“I’d never dream of it,” you retorted.
“You ARE making fun of me,” he said with a pout, and placed another card on the pile. He was near the beginning of the third row. “Ah look, it’s you.”
“James,” you said and he turned to you while keeping another eye on the cards. “Have you ever worn a dress?”
“Yeah,” he said with a simple nod. “For Halloween, and I also once lost a dare with Sirius.”
“The two of you wore dresses?”
“Mhm, medieval stuff, Peter and Remus made us do a catwalk and we had to wear them for a whole Weekend.”
“I would pay to see that,” you said with a laugh. “Are there any photos?”
“I think Remus must have taken some,” he said with a shrug. “Okay, done.”
You turned to look at the cards and almost laughed at the fact that both Remus and Sirius were right beside you. Their horses looking at you, and right on top of the three was the three of clubs. “Well, seems like you have quite a happy relationship,” he said.
“Yeah, you said, looking at the cards. This time around there was a lot more Gold and cups around. That meant good things.
“That’s Victory, right?” he pointed at the ace of golf right underneath you.
“Indeed, and it’s next to–”
He checked the book, “–5 of gold, which means well-being and on the opposite, there is, oh,” he frowned. “A 7 of swords…”
“Those are good, actually,” you told him. “It means hope, and it’s right under Remus, so…”
“Right,” James said as he remembered, his hazel eyes almost sparkling. “It means you’ve found someone who gives you the confidence to believe in a better future.” You smiled. That was certainly who Remus was for you.
“There’s also a cup next to the love clubs,” he said as he tried to remember what that meant. “The Ace.”
“It stands for home, and family. The fact that it has the three clubs on the left and the 7 of cups on the right also means good things.”
You agreed with a small “hum” as he revised the book.
“It also says it means fullness of plenitude.” He read something and smirked. “Do you feel like your deepest darkest desires have been fulfilled?”
“Prongs.” You warned.
“I mean I’m just asking based on what I see here… Talking about cups, do you know what this one means?” he asked as he pointed to the 4 beside the nine of clubs. The card in question had 4 gold and red cups, one in each corner, and read “Naipe Color Oro” in the centre.
“Instincts,” you said almost a little too fast.
“And carnal desires,” James added with a smirk. “And this one right here,” he pointed at the clubs, “it’s satisfaction… and would you look at that, right beside you and the boys. Now I might be getting carried away, but does this not mean that you’re all giving each other satisfaction in regards of carnal desires?”
“Prongs, please!” you whined as you covered your face with your hands.
He chuckled and then raised both hands in defeat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that this one looks much better than the previous one.” He then cleared his throat. “Right at the top of this line,” he pointed at the one with you on it. “There is a 4 of gold. The fact that it’s crowning the love cubs, you and the ace of golds right at the bottom means that there is an overall wellness in your love life.”
“And the three of swords beside it?”
“I think it’s a bad card, but not with what’s surrounding it. “It’s in between two positive ores,” he said as he checked his notes. “Gratifications, success and wellness, so I think it means, in the long run, you’ll be all right.”
“Am,” you corrected. “This is about the present.”
“But isn’t this one about the future?” he said as he pointed at the three of swords.
“Not in the present throw,” you said. “It’s tricky, it can mean anything from years to days.”
“But at least for now, it does mean good stuff, right?”
“Yes, it does,” you said with a small smile and a nod.
“Could this victory also be about quidditch?” He asked as he pointed at the ace underneath you.
“I guess,” you said with a shrug. “But there’s still some time before the match, isn’t it? We’re not playing until May, depending on the sores they get in February and March.”
“Shh,” he said as he shook his head. “I’m the seer, I think it means a Quidditch victory.”
You shrugged, “Whatever you say Prongs… Just don’t write something like that on the quizzes.”
“Have you been doing the dream interpretation homework?” he asked as he continued staring at the cards, trying to find something else. But he couldn’t find anything else that would be relevant, so he started gathering them in a single stack again.
“I haven’t had many dreams lately,” you said. “Not since the darkness in the Ravenclaw tower.”
“You… you dreamed of darkness in the tower?”
“Yeah, I thought it was my imagination, but I guess it made sense… I’m making up most of the rest, though.”
“You’re making your dreams up?”
“I found this book on dream interpretation in the library and I have been using it as inspiration,” you said with a shrug.
“It’s time for the throw about the future,” he said as he offered you the stack again.
“I’d rather not,” you said as you shook your head and pushed the cards back at him.
“Things look good now, I’d rather not worry about what the future may hold.”
“But–”
“If I had gotten a throw like the one I got in the past 5 months ago, I would have been scared shitless…” you said. “You know what I mean, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe we can make something up for the report?”
“Like what?” you asked with a smile.
“I definitely see a quidditch win in your future,” he said with a smile.
“And how does that look?”
“Wait…” he said as he looked through the stack and placed the 8 of swords on the table, followed by a knight of clubs, who he then switched with a jack of swords and added a knight of ores to your right. “So that’s me,” he pointed at the clubs. “Marlene and, of course, Padfoot,” he explained.
“Aha…” you said with a smile.
He then flipped through the cards until he found the two of clubs and placed it next to himself. “I am leading you all,” he added the ace of gold right next to that. “To victory.”
You laughed and took a bunch from the stack in his hands. “This is Lily,” you said as you took the Jack of cups and placed it under him. You’re both standing over the love clubs,” you said as you raised your eyebrows at him in a teasing manner. “And look what’s above you, two of cups, you know what that means?”
“You can’t predict Lily and I having children in your future!”
“What do you mean I can’t? They’ll be my nephews and nieces, of course, I can predict that!”
James humped in reply. “Well then,” he said as he spotted Remus and placed him underneath you. Then, on your top right corner, he added the four of cups. “You and the boys are having mighty fun as well.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” you said as you looked for another card to add. Next to the victory you placed the ace of cups. “Means we’re a family.”
“And,” he placed the 5th of cups under the family, “we’ll celebrate the victory tremendously.”
“With gratification,” you said as you placed the 7 of gold underneath it.
Your little game went on until the two of you had designed a wonderfully looking future. Your friends were all around you, Beth. Peter and Tom had been added close to the celebration, and most of the clubs and swords were as far away from all of you as possible, except for the few that weren’t.
“Why are there so many cards missing? asked Spellman as he approached your table.
“Ugh… because…” Prongs started.
“It’s a celt-fae throw,” you said. “It’s a little tricky to make, and I’m trying to remember how to do it, teaching James in the process.”
“Celt-fae?” he asked with a frown.
“Yeah, my Nan taught me,” you nodded confidently.
Spellman placed a hand under his chin and hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll see if we have some books on that in the library,” he added before walking towards someone else’s table.
“You just made that whole thing up, didn’t you?” James asked you in a whisper.
You laughed as you nodded, “I most definitely did.”
“How long do you reckon he’ll be at the library looking for it?”
You shrugged and then remembered that Sirius and Remus had told you about Spellman going to the forbidden section that one time. “More than one night, at least…”
James shook his head while the two of you finished the future you’d like to have. “Does two cups mean two children?” he asked casually.
“Just means children in general,” you retorted. “Why?”
“I don’t know, I quite fancy the idea of having two of them.”
“Yeah?” you asked as you tilted your head. “Boys or girls?”
“I wouldn’t care,” he said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t mind one of each I guess. Imagine me braiding a little Lily’s hair.”
“If it’s anything like our Lily, she might not let you touch it.”
“She wouldn’t let anybody but me, touch it,” he retorted confidently. “And Lily, of course.”
“Of course,” you laughed at the way he’d added that, almost as an afterthought.
James scribbled something on a sheet of parchment and then passed it over to you. “What do you think?”
You reviewed the parchment, it was a rather detailed writing of everything that you’d done that day, he had even made some stuff up regarding the fae-celt technique that was so realistic you had to do a double take “Oh, wow,” you said. “It looks like taken from a book.”
“Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Even if he doesn’t find anything, he’ll still think it’s a thing.”
“Who knows, perhaps we’ve just made up a new way of predicting the future,” you added with a shrug.
You added just a few more details that you’d seen on the past and present readings, with some drawings of the most relevant or telling cards and looked at the page once more, pulling it back and showing it to James, “What do you think?”
“It’s great!” he said with a simple nod, and the two of you stood up and walked towards Spellman’s desk. You handed over the paper while James placed the deck, and the book, along with the rest of the stuff.
“How did it go?” asked Spellman, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Good,” you replied with a simple nod. You knew it hadn’t been his choice, but having been paired with James perhaps had been a saving grace. With his constant teasing and fooling around, and the fact that he was the one reading and not the other way around, you’d managed to escape what would have otherwise been a torturous situation.
He nodded at you calmly and told you and James that, since you were finished, you could exit the classroom. You stopped by Remus and Peter on the way out. Peter was incredibly confused as he looked in between the cards and the book, biting the side of his cheek as he looked at Remus completely appalled.
“What does this even mean?”
“May I?” you asked as you approached him, “Whose reading for whom?”
“I’m the seer,” said Remus. “I’ve told him it’s nothing but he’s worried he’ll die.”
You frowned and leaned over the cards, looking at them with a small analysing frown as you placed yourself beside Remus, your side brushing against his shoulder. “Present?”
“Future,” answered Peter. “See those two? those are death!”
“Are you supposed to be the Knight of Clubs or the Jack of Gold?” you asked as you looked at the two cards underneath the apparent death.
“He’s the Knight of Swords,” Remus said, there was a slight hint of exasperation in his voice as if he had already told Peter the exact same thing.
“But even then, not in a much better situation either, am I?” he asked as he pointed at his spot, near the top middle, leaning to the left. “I’m surrounded by bad cards!”
You sighed, “It looks like there are some weird things going on, like you’re going to have a fallout with some friends,” you said as you pointed at the Three of Cups being pointed at by an Ace of Swords from below and a Seven from the side. “That could make you or others feel dejected and upset.
“But, even if you are a little upset, or perhaps sick, it seems like in the end, you’ll be somehow fulfilled with the choice you made,” you continued, studying the cards again. It was as if they were trying to tell you something. Peter was right, there was certainly something ominous about his throw but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know either. Your worst predictions often came true, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to Peter; he was your friend.
“You think?”
“Yeah, and look,” you said, pointing at the diagonal line from his left. “It seems that you will eventually submit to something or someone, and you won’t feel too sad about the stuff that went down either, since you’ll still have a friend you consider home,” you said pointing at the King of Gold and at the Ace of Cups at the end of the line.
“That means I’ll be fine?”
You looked at the cards again. There were dark things in them that you didn’t want to think too much about, something baleful that you could feel and not quite see. If you had thrown them, perhaps it would have been easier, and although your magic had always been compatible with Remus’, readings were extremely delicate, and only the main seer could predict things with accuracy –if they were good.
“Yeah,” you said reassuringly. “You’ll be fine, Pete.”
“Told you so!” Said Remus as he rolled his eyes and wrote some things down in his notebook. “You’re perfectly safe in this throw.”
“That’s quite reassuring,” Peter said with a sigh.
“Yeah,” James said as he looked at the cards with a smile and patted Peter’s shoulder cheerfully. “See you in Magic Theory in a bit, yeah?” he said as he looked at the two of them.
“Sure,” Peter said as he started writing down the throw he’s gotten.
You smiled at the two of them, turning to Remus with slight complicity before giving his shoulder a soft squeeze and walking outside with James. It was a simple way of telling him you loved him, and you knew he’d gotten the message with the small smile he returned.
“You think I showed up on Lily’s read?” He asked as he turned back to take a look at her once you reached the doors.
You looked at the way Lily was looking at her cards, there was a light tinge of red in her cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile, “She must have.”
“That’s good,” James said as he turned back towards the hall. “You should ask what she got at lunch.”
“Why’s that?”
“So you can tell me all about it in practice later,” he said as if it were obvious. “Now that you’re dating Moons, I’m your best friend, which means it is your duty to help me.”
“I’m not going to tell you everything that Lily says about you, James.”
“I can tell you everything that Sirius and Remus say about you in exchange–”
“No thank you,” you interrupted with a half laugh. “If either of them want me to know something, they’ll tell me themselves. And so will Lily with you.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“James,” you said, turning to him, causing the two of you to stop. “Do you really think she would stay quiet if something was bothering her? Lily Evans?”
He tilted his head to the side as he exhaled. “But what if her cards mentioned about us having children? What if they told her whether it’d be a boy or a girl?”
“I think your imagination is getting out of hand, Prongsie.”
“Is it impossible?” he asked. You were now near the stairs.
You thought about it for a second. A Two of Cups plus a character person could definitely predict at least some of the basic traits of a future child, but it would be too complicated to spot, and it would require a lot of suppositions. “Well, technically it isn’t impossible but–”
“See! She wouldn’t tell me that!”
“Because then you wouldn’t stop talking about it, Prongs, so it makes sense that she–” Suddenly you were yanked by the arm from the side. Perhaps it was more like an intentioned pull, but since you were walking so intently while looking almost solely at James, it felt like a way sharper pull than intended.
You turned to look at the hand grabbing onto your arm before looking at the owner. “We need to talk.”
“Hey!” James said as he snapped Evan’s hand from your arm. “That’s no way to treat a Lady!” As if he hadn’t yanked you way harder on multiple occasions while playing Quidditch. His dislike for the Slytherin was obvious, and any excuse would do.
Evan looked at James dismissively, as if he was nothing more than a nuisance, which was a lot coming from someone who had shied away from him with one look. “Don’t meddle, Potter,” Evan hissed. He then called your last name. “We need to talk.”
He had said that last bit in such an urgent manner, that you felt compelled to listen, even if Barty leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his annoyed expression hadn’t made you any more eager to do it than you were to go back and read someone’s cards from scratch.
“Just leave us alone, Rosier!” James said as he took a step forward.
“It’s okay, Prongs,” you said with a nod. “I’ll see what he has to say.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah,” you replied confidently. Prongs stood by your side, waiting.
Evan cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” he asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.
James threw Evan a look and took a few steps backward, crossing his arms over his chest as he spotted Barty walking towards you.
You hadn’t talked to either of them since Christmas, regardless they had saved you, and since they had, you assumed the chances of them attacking you outright, were minimal. “So?”
“Hope you’re feeling better,” Evan said, as politely as he could. Then he hesitated and turned to Barty, as if he wanted his help with whatever it was he had to say. There was a rather tense silence, Barty rolled his eyes and turned to you.
“Your boyfriend is cheating on you.” You were startled by the information, so much so that you didn’t even react before he spoke again. “With your best friend.”
Evan turned to Barty, with what looked like shock. “We weren’t gonna tell her that!”
“I thought we were,” Barty said with a shrug.
“What?” Was the only thing you managed to respond.
“Remus and Sirius,” Evan said, he looked apologetic, like he thought it wasn’t right to tell you but at the same time it was the only right thing to do.
“Snape saw them, they were shagging in the Prefect’s Bathroom.”
Oh, you thought, you had been there. You couldn’t possibly tell them that, could you?
“Snape told you this?”
“And he wanted to tell the entire school, make you feel miserable in the process,” Barty said.
“You’d understand why we couldn’t allow that to happen, right? Same reason you helped me with my father?”
“I–”
“We obliviated him,” Barty said with a small proud smirk, almost imperceptible. He knew it was a complicated spell. “I didn’t want to tell you, but Evan insisted.”
“Right,” you said with a breath. “I– uh… I knew about that.”
“You knew they were cheating?” Evan asked, surprised, but in a whisper.
“No, I mean… They weren’t cheating.”
“So you’re their cover?” he asked, still confused. “I thought–”
“Not quite,” you said, before realising you could have just left them with that thought.
“What?”
Barty narrowed his eyes at you, and then he let out a breathy chuckle, sliding his tongue on the side of his cheek before looking to the side and shaking his head. He knew.
“Evan, Luv.” He said, the smug smile he had did not disappear as he spoke. “It seems she has an arrangement with them.”
“An arrangement?”
“The three of them are into each other,” Barty said confidently. And then there was another sharp intake of breath. “Now that I think about it, she was more surprised that Severus told us than about the fact that they’d been shagging.” He smiled. “Why do you think that is?”
“She knew,” Evan breathed.
“Perhaps,” Barty said as he took a step closer. He wasn’t as tall as Evan, and even Reggie was taller, but you suspected he was still going to stretch. “She was there.”
You kept your face as stoic as you could. Two more people to add to the list of those who knew, or rather, figured it out. “I appreciate the fact that you decided to tell me about it.” Barty raised an eyebrow. “And the fact that you obliviated that snake–”
Evan hissed, and Barty mouthed “careful”.
“–Severus,” you corrected. “For me.”
“You’re welcome,” Barty retorted cockily.
“It was nothing,” Evan said, much more politely.
“I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the thing that we– you know, the thing.”
“That you’re all fucking each other?” Barty asked nonchalantly and got a small slap on his arm from Evan.
You didn’t respond, just looked at him with slight exasperation. He knew how to get under your skin.
“We won’t say a thing,” Evan said with a small nod. “We’ll follow your example.”
“Thank you,” you said, looking at him and nodding slightly. He shrugged in return. You turned towards James, who was looking at the two of them with a mix of hatred and curiosity. “I have class, now,” you added as you pointed towards James.
Barty smiled. “Tell them to fuck themselves from my part when you see them,” he said as he waved. You turned to him with a rather pissed look and he smiled, adding, much lower this time, “Or each other.”
“Everything all right? What’s that all about?” James said as soon as you reached him.
“They know,” you said with a tired sight.
“They know what?”
“The details of my relationship,” you finished.
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A/N: Hey kiddos! I'm finally back! Took me some time but GC is returning with it's regular schedule at least until the middle of December. Also, I wanted to inform you guys that there is a proofreading position open for GC (Proofreaders usually get to read chapters a week in advance, so DM me if you're interested).
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nct jisung oneshot
request for anon: you have a kid without your highschool boyfriend ever finding out. sorry this request took a long while my life has been so insane lately that I haven’t had time to do much of anything besides work. Anyways enjoy ✨
warnings/headsup: light swearing • teen pregnancy • tiny bit of angst • major fluff fest • 7.8k words • female reader • light proofread • Jisung x reader kiss • melodrama • crisp autumn vibes • dad!jisung • D/N = daughters name • miscommunication • so much cheesiness
Moving On: Jisung x Reader pt. I/I
High school was a complicated time for Jisung. He was managing school, keeping up with friends, dealing with his overbearing family, and a slew of extracurriculars, all while making sure to pay attention to you; his girlfriend. Sometimes it all felt like too much, sometimes he felt like he should just quit. Nevertheless, you were always there to support him. You were constantly by his side and that’s what really mattered. Whether it was bringing him snacks in between classes, helping him study during free periods, waiting for him at the dance studio while he practiced, or just being a shoulder to lean on and a safe space to vent whenever he may have needed it you were there... Jisung couldn’t even express how grateful he was for having you around! Even with all his appreciation and love for you however, he still wasn’t aware of just how far you were expending yourself to keep him happy and healthy.
People often joked about just how close you two were, how you were like second mother to Jisung and his entire friend group, the way you were always ready and able to give them rides and take care of Jisung and all the people important to him. Jisung’s mother would have probably said the opposite. Though she was never overt about it you know she didn’t like you. She would scowl whenever Jisung left you two alone together and the smile she forced on her face whenever he brought you home was just about the fakest thing you’d ever seen. Jisung always tried his best to talk you up to his parents, but where his mother was stubborn and resentful, his father was uninterested and indifferent. He didn’t want to believe that the people that had raised him couldn’t see in you what he saw, it pained him to think about so he just didn’t. He was in complete denial most times about the relationship between your two families and the fact that you came from much lower economic means didn’t help your case. When he first pitched the idea of you being his girlfriend to his mom and dad that was the very first thing they pointed out in fact! That didn’t stop him however. He would just tell himself that they were overly protective and that you and his mom were actually quite similar. You two would have to get along at some point… at least he hoped you would…
Jisung almost never failed to point out your motherly instincts: to protect him from bad news, to make sure he excelled in everything he did, to simply keep his head afloat. Unfortunately, no one knew just how that instinct would eventually have to develop. For better or for worse that instinct might have just been the end of the life you were once so used to.
It was late spring when you started noticing a bizarre sense of dread in the air as the reality started to set in for everybody that lives were starting to shift and change, and relationships were experiencing a much different sort of ebb and flow. No wonder you felt a little sick, it was the dread in the air! Right?
Sometimes your period was late… but it was never this late... You had no idea what you were supposed to do in a moment like this! A wave of anxiety washed over you and your body as you began to feel queasy. You felt nauseous, and even a fair amount afraid. This might have been the absolute worst time in your life for something like this to happen! You were so close to wrapping up high school. Senior year was supposed to be the last year of you and your peers lives before becoming "real" adults. You were deciding which university to go to and what subjects to major in. You were getting ready to say goodbye to friends and unfortunately hadn’t yet had the sit down talk with your boyfriend about if he was comfortable going long distance or even staying together at all…
You loved Jisung, you really did, but you also loved the idea of a bit of freedom. You would never explicitly say that to him for fear of hurting him or just sounding like you wanted to complain, but you were tired. Tired of being so busy, tired of so many people depending on you, tired of always being referred to as Park Jisung’s girlfriend, tired of his family looking down on you and yours. You honestly thought that most people had forgotten your name at this point. You wanted something of your own, something to explore outside of and away from Jisung, however sweet he was. You thought that college might be time for a change! A chance to reinvent yourself apart from your high school boyfriend and the hovering hand of his mother. No matter how lovely and accomplished he was, you two couldn’t be together forever right? At least that’s what you told yourself. You thought of your parents, you thought of Jisung’s parents. You were sure that if the Park family didn’t already detest you they surely would now. You dreaded what two little lines on a flimsy piece of plastic might mean for all of that. His parents already thought of you as unsophisticated, a burden to Jisung’s future and this would not help your case. You knew you had to tell Jisung while he was still around but you just didn’t know how… but first you had to be sure what you were planning on telling him.
You sat on the cold porcelain of the toilet seat all alone but face still flushed with warmth from embarrassment. You got up and washed your hands and gave yourself a once over in the mirror. You barely recognized your own visage. The bags under your eyes had bags, and the dark circles looked more like new permanent attachments than temporary indications of sleepiness. You subconsciously prayed to whatever god was out there that your period was just late again this time. “It’s just two or three weeks” you told yourself looking back to your reflection in your bathroom mirror and plastering on your best cheery smile. It only lasted a moment but for a fragment of a fragment of a second you were almost smiling genuinely no matter the result.
You went and did a quick lap around your house to release as much pent up stressful energy as possible but also to make sure your parents really were out of the house. You peeked out through the living room curtains one last time just making sure that there were no cars other than your own parked in the driveway. You ran back up the stairs as soon as you heard the faint ringing of the alarm you had set on your phone. You couldn’t stop the trembling of your hands as you picked up the little pink and white pregnancy test you had set on the edge of the counter. You sucked in a deep breath, inhaling sharply through your nose as the sheer terror and excitement of what you were looking at created a blockade in your throat. You felt a tingling sensation all over, unable to properly breathe, only sucking in air for another few seconds before finally letting out your first breath in what felt like several minutes.
Although, it wasn’t just any regular breath, it was a laugh. Well less of a laugh and more or a low groan that slowly turned into a chortle. You practically keeled over as you fell to the ground on your hands and knees, stomach and back heaving as sloppy tears fell down on the sides of your face and almost splashed back into your eyes with the velocity at which they hit the tiled floor. You didn’t know what your reaction would be once you looked at the test but you definitely did not expect this! You were so afraid before, so worried, so adamant that you wanted, needed it to be negative! Now here you were staring at the two thin lines on the near microscopic test screen indicating a positive result and all you could think of was how you hope’d it’d be a girl.
𖦹
“So I have good news and I have bad news” you whispered to Jisung as you two sat in the back of the school library “do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first”?
“Uhm I don’t know… I guess the bad news” he said.
You screamed internally, wondering why he just had to choose the bad option first. Jisung rifled through several books struggling to pick one for a final paper, paying you little mind as he laced his fingers through yours absentmindedly and dragged you down each aisle of bookshelves behind him.
It had been about a day or two since you had taken the test and you had even talked it over with your parents. They were understandably uneasy at first when you said you planned on keeping the child but you assured them that you would absolutely keep working on your studies. You told them you would talk to Jisung yourself and figure out the rest from there, and all your parents could do was support you and whatever decisions you made, the best they possibly could. They could see the stress in your eyes as you mentioned next steps. Though your parents supported your relationship they weren’t too fond of Jisung’s family either. The pretentious nature and lack of grace when talking about their son’s girlfriend, your parent’s daughter, it made them upset to say the least. The thought of having to join your two families was the last thing they wanted to think about right now. You explained to them in detail exactly how you wanted to move forward with your life and what you planned on telling your boyfriend in the process. “Just let him down easy” your mother said, knowing how difficult of a conversation this would be, especially to have so young “don’t tell his mom… tell him.” Your mother’s voice was emotional and awkward and your dad gave you a half hearted smile and stiff hug. Their words rang in your head as you looked up at Jisung.
“Are you sure you want to hear the bad news first?” You asked, hoping that if you told him the good news was that you were pregnant, he would already be on board to end the relationship and you wouldn’t have to say what you had to say next and his mom would never have to be proven right about how messy she thought you were.
“No I want to hear the bad stuff first and just get it over with” he said reaching over you with ease to grab a book off the highest shelf. “Hey do you think this would work?” He clicked his tongue paging through whatever novel he had picked up this time.
You sighed… “okay but it’s really important so I need you to really listen!”
Jisung continued checking out books and only really half listening to you. “Of course” he said as he carried on skimming all the literature around him.
“Jisung I’m serious! I didn’t want to do this here but this is the first time we’ve been alone together all week!”
“Totally…” he responded
“Jisung look at me!”
“I am looking at you…” (he wasn’t). He kissed your hand tenderly, muttering the words on the page he was looking at to himself.
“Jisung!”
“What babe?”
His nonchalance angered you. Couldn’t he tell how upsetting this was for you? “Jisung I want to break up!” You swore you could hear a pin drop on the complete opposite side of the library. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest in the time it took for Jisung to fully absorb what you had said. Those few seconds felt like an eternity, but once they were over you already wanted to go back to before you had said anything.
“You’re joking…” he said, actively scoffing in your face.
What ensued was potentially the first and only ever argument between you and your then, now ex boyfriend. All you really remembered was how he kept asking "why". You told him all the little reasons, how you wanted space, how you couldn’t do long distance, how your families would never get along, but you omitted the most important reason... Sure those other things were true but you also just couldn’t see yourself raising a child with the first guy you had ever slept with, and Jisung had so much going for him, you knew there was no way a dance career could have him stationed in one place long enough to focus on a new family. His mother would never let him have a kid with you, you just knew it! She would think you were trapping him, his father would question you incessantly, and Jisung would eventually have to choose between his prospective future or yours. So you decided to choose for him.
“So we’re just over then” his voice was hoarse and defeated “you don’t want to see me again”…
All you could do was nod “this one should work well, it fits all the criteria for the paper”. You said, handing Jisung a hefty book of the shelf, helping him for seemingly the last time…
You couldn’t completely avoid Jisung the last few weeks of school. You both had sort of silently agreed to keep as much distance as possible, only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary. When people asked why you two had broken up you both had slightly different answers but they both went along the lines of “growing apart.” It really hurt to think about, especially all that was left unsaid but you simply had to trudge forward. The last time you saw Jisung was at graduation where you each exchanged a friendly yet faintly sour handshake and wished each other good luck. You watched the smug smile on his mother’s face as you two parted ways and the way she turned up her nose when your dad foolishly went in for a cordial handshake.
You sort of regretted not telling him about your ‘situation’ but you also felt like it was for the best! You thought you might never see him again and once your daughter D/N was born nothing else mattered. You put off school for a bit, moved to a new town and got very used to living alone with just you and your little girl. You put all your best skills to use once you had entered university. All your experience planning, keeping others organized, staying on task, and being a mother really lended itself to your field and your incredible business acumen was undeniable. You worked hard to make sure that you and your daughter could live in the best house, afford the nicest dinners, get the very best babysitters, and whatever else would make the little one’s life easier.
Obviously you still thought about him. Every time you looked at your child’s face you saw him. Every laugh, every cough and sneeze, every silly statement, every whine just reminded you of him. She never asked about her father but you wondered if she would eventually start. You sort of did want her to meet Jisung but your life had changed so much since, you wondered if after all these years if he would even care. You weren’t immune to looking him up every now and then or asking your parents if they had heard any news about him or his family. You suspected he would be angry or hurt if he found out, and he had every right to be. Despite that though, you still just wanted to see him again, even if it was just to yell at you for lying or cuss you out, even for just a brief moment you wanted to see him…
𖦹
“There’s no way… there’s no way…” Jisung muttered to himself slowly bringing his shopping cart to a halt and planting his feet firmly in the middle of the aisle. People gave him dirty looks and confused stares. He stood there, oblivious, only focused on a woman about his age, a woman he’d recognize anywhere even from a hundred feet away, a woman who nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces and broke up with him before moving across the country and becoming the most successful person from their high school by a mile. It couldn’t be, or rather it shouldn’t be!
What were you doing back in your home town? He wondered. The last he had heard you graduated college with about a million academic achievements under your belt, and were making more money than he could ever dream of at some big conglomerate. Though there you were, same put together appearance, same pretty face, same sweet voice, bending over to talk to a little girl who looked just like you. He did a double take, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses just to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. He squinted and blinked and did just about everything he could to clear his vision but nothing changed. All he saw was you.
He felt like he had to say something… if he didn’t he thought he might go insane. What kind of guy would he be to just ignore your presence. Sure you two hadn’t ended things on the best note but that was years ago, and you were just kids at the time! Maybe you’d forgiven him at this point. At one point Jisung wasn’t sure if all the resentment he once held for you was gone but seeing you in person just confirmed that it was. There was no reason to be mad anymore. He really missed you. He just wanted to talk to you again…
Was it really you standing there? The child didn’t look that old but was she really yours? Had you moved on so quickly after leaving town, after leaving him? Who were you with now? His head was spinning like a freshly oiled revolving door and full to the brim flooded with questions.
Jisung felt like his stomach did a 360 degree flip as he tepidly approached you. “Y/N” he stated more than asked hoping but already knowing it was you. Though, in case he was wrong he braced himself for a much more awkward encounter.
You almost dropped the can of food you were holding blinking rapidly and registering the person before you. “Jisung?” You said, giving him a once over. He was somehow even taller now with jet black hair and dark thick rimmed glasses slightly covering his tired brown eyes. He was as cute as ever. There he stood looking pretty much the same as he did when you left, but boy was he handsome!
“Jisung what’re you doing here?” You asked out of impulse, already knowing the answer. You acted like you hadn’t heard he was in town from your mother who ran into his folks a couple weeks ago, who proceeded to unabashedly brag about their son to her. Of course you then immediately went and stalked him on social media.
“I- I came back recently for a family reunion…” his face was a bit strained as he said it and then he trailed off, noticing the little girl who shyly held your hand once more. Up close she looked ever more like you, down to the way she looked him up and down and examined him with curious eyes. She stared without a shred of recognition on her face or in her eyes but still refused to break eye contact with the strange adult towering over her. He also couldn’t help but notice the way her cheeks rounded out the same way his did as a child and how her face transitioned into the same confused expression he made, mirroring him perfectly.
“What are you doing here?” He said trying his best to look at you and to not stare back at the little girl clinging to your side examining him like a foreign creature trapped behind bars at the zoo.
“I’m visiting my parents” you said clearing your throat a bit “with my daughter.” You raised her little hand trying to make her wave.
“How old is she?” He asked, mentally doing the math of just how long ago you two broke up.
“She’s five…” you said bashfully. You tried to run every possible scenario in your head about what the best course of action would be in this moment. Was it selfish to just keep the information to yourself, or was it better to just tell him now. Maybe the grocery store wasn’t the best place to let Jisung know that you’ve sort of been hiding a secret daughter from him for the past five years, but also the longer you hid it from him the worse you felt. You had to tell him, it really felt like now or never. You had kept her from him for so long it just felt cruel at this point. Plus, even though your daughter was young the way she eyed Jisung up and down made you feel paranoid enough that she had already figured it out herself. Maybe Jisung already knew too, maybe he wanted nothing to do with you or more importantly with her, but you still had to tell him. The words had to come out of your own mouth whether you wanted to speak them or not! You had to make up for the immature decision you made at that time. It was like you were in that library all over again...
“Hey do you want to meet up- I mean we should probably talk, it’s been a long time”. You fumbled over your words not sure exactly what to say.
Jisung perked up “I’m free tomorrow. If you wanna grab coffee!” He was happy you took the initiative to invite him out because god knows he didn’t have the courage to do it himself.
“That sounds... nice!” you said as the little girl tugged on your arm mumbling something about wanting to watch some tv show at grandma and grandpa’s.
“I assume your number’s still the same.” He said remembering all the times he meant to text you but stopped himself out of fear.
“Yeah it is.” You said. You felt the same giddy feeling you got on the first day of high school when a cute boy in your homeroom asked for your number for “study purposes.” There was that cute boy once again standing in front of you giving you the same smile he gave you when you first met. A smile you hadn’t seen in years, but healed a hurt you didn’t know you had inside instantly.
You had to chew on your cheeks to hide your smile as you drove home. You could see your daughter in the rear view mirror drumming her little fingers on the arm rest of her car seat along to the music on the radio. You would peek at her every once in a while and try to gauge her focus. What was she thinking about? Was she afraid of him? Was she curious about him? Did she even care?
You cleared your throat only half getting her attention as she sang along to the words of whatever song was playing, mostly making up her own lyrics and swaying in her seat. “So what did you think of mommy’s friend?” You asked.
She didn’t respond for a bit or even give you any indication that she heard you. She was silent for a few minutes before speaking. “He’s nice… but… too tall…” she said.
“You might be tall like that one day” you chuckled “would you ever want to meet him again?” You wanted to at least have an idea of what to tell Jisung when you saw him next. In your mind, your daughter’s opinion (though still young and uninformed) mattered the most. If she wanted nothing to do with him at this time it didn’t matter what Jisung’s response was. All that mattered was her and what her needs were.
“Is he good at playing games?” She added out of the blue.
“What?”
“Mommy’s friend... Is he good at playing games?”
“Uhm, I guess so? From what I remember he was always fun. I’m sure he’d be good at playing games.” You smiled at her through the rear view mirror a little “Why D/N? Did you want to play a game with him?”
Your daughter just looked out the window and nodded her head, soon after getting distracted. “When are we getting home? I wanna watch my show.” She huffed and grumbled almost like an adult. Almost like Jisung.
“Soon.” You said.
As you pulled into the driveway and walked into your parent’s house, your daughter was practically vibrating with energy. She practically dove out of the car as you unbuckled her seatbelt, running into the home as your mother opened the door and greeted her with a big hug.
“How was the store?” Your mother asked as she ushered your little one down the hall to go bother your father in the living room.
“It was alright… I ran into Jisung…” you walked over to the kitchen and placed a few shopping bags on the counter.
Your mother looked surprised “both of you?”
You sighed “both of us.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked to grab coffee, he actually seemed happy to see me!”
“Were you happy to see him?” Your mother asked.
“Of course I was! It was awkward but I have to tell him sooner or later. Whether he wants to be in her life or not I have to tell him.”
“-and you think the best way to do that is over coffee?”
“No!” You said. “But I might not have another chance.”
Your mother looked at you with this awkward guilty expression on her face. She started to unpack the groceries biting her lip and looking everywhere but into your eyes.
“What? Do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?”… there was silence as she opened the fridge and began to rearrange some condiments, suspiciously shaking her head as if to neither completely agree or disagree. “You think I should keep it from him? Mom it's been long enough, it would just be wrong to not tell him. D/N wants to meet him! Why are you being so weird about this? Aren’t you the one who told me I should tell him the next time I see him?”
“What if he already knows?” Your mother blurted out.
“So what if he already knows…” you furrowed your eyebrows “wait… what do you mean?”
“Nothing” your mother said.
You knew that was bullshit. “Did you tell him?” You asked in a frustrated tone. “You told him didn’t you—”
Your mother looked at you and then went back to avoiding your fiery gaze. She was never good at keeping secrets but you thought something of this magnitude would be able to stay hidden. She promised to let you tell him on your own terms, so why had she betrayed you?
It took her a while to fess up but eventually she did, sort of… “I didn’t tell him directly, it just sort of slipped out… I— I just had to say something she was so… ugh!” Your mother groaned.
“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked and took a deep breath. Your mother swallowed harshly and looked down at the floor. “I promise to hear you out, I just want to know what I’m getting into mom.”
“It was around last month… Your dad has been golfing so much lately, so he got us a membership to the country club with the money you gave him for his birthday. I don’t personally use it much but he loves it down there, and I like to use the pool, and the tennis court is nice, and every once in a while I like to just sit in one of the dining rooms with a glass of wine, and…”
You sucked in your cheek as your mom rambled knowing that she couldn’t avoid the point forever. “Yeah exactly.” You said dryly.
Your mother gulped once more “To make a long story just a bit shorter… The Park family also goes there and I ran into Jisung’s mother, and she was just bragging about him nonstop and she hinted that he was better off without you and I just remembered how much you loved that boy! She was talking about some date he went on and how great this girl was. Greater than my daughter? I doubt it! She thought her son could do no wrong! That he was so perfect and you were so not… I just couldn’t help but tell her that whether she liked it or not you two would always be connected! I- I looked at her and I said ‘ya know you may want to let your son know that you already have a granddaughter and she’s not related to that rich heiress you want him with so bad!’ That’s what I said to her for looking down on us all these years… I told her about how my daughter and my daughter’s daughter were just about the most wonderful thing in this world and she had no right to talk about you or even her own son that way.”
“You really said all that stuff?”
“Yes…” Your mother replied hesitantly.
You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes and a swell of emotion inside you. You put a hand over your mouth to stop the audible sobbing that threatened to leave your mouth. You could tell just how long your mother had been holding in those words. She was always so non confrontational but the fact that she said all that warmed your heart. You were angry at first but in this moment you realized that it didn’t matter what Mrs. Park or even your ex boyfriend thought of you. You had some choice words for Jisung’s parents as well but you knew it would create more trouble to let them out. All that mattered was that your mother loved you guys enough to be proud of you. You always felt a bit embarrassed when having to explain to others that you weren’t the babysitter you were just a teen mom, but your own mother didn’t even care. She loved you all the same and made sure that no one would let you feel ashamed of yourself. “I should’ve known you couldn’t keep a secret anyways.” You said choking up a bit. You gave your mother the biggest hug you had probably ever given in your entire life, and she hugged you right back!
“You aren’t angry?” She asked.
“Oh I’m furious” you said “but not at you. I have no idea what I did to make that woman hate me so much but I’m glad you stood up to her!”
Your mother sighed. “I know you wanted to do it on your own terms but I feel like she might’ve already told him… I just don’t know for sure.”
“It’s alright.” You said. You and your mother finished unloading the groceries, tearfully laughing at how strange the whole encounter must have been. The thought of your soft-spoken mother raising her voice at a stern and snarky lady filled you with joy. Just imagining the shocked look on Jisung’s mom’s face was enough to keep a slight smile on yours for the rest of the day.
Later that night, after putting D/N to bed, you sat on the couch with your parents commiserating about all the awful experiences you had with the Park family over the years. It had been pent up for so long that all of you took the opportunity to air out even the smallest of grievances.
“I don’t know how such a sweet kid could be related to such obnoxious people” your father said as a small ping emanated from your phone.
You couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach as you saw the first text from Jisung in half a decade appear before you.
“Wanna grab that coffee around noon tmrw?” It said.
You considered being coy and waiting a few more minutes to reply but your fingers worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it a “sure!” was sent in response.
Then there was one more ping. One more text. It was small. It was innocuous. It could have meant nothing. But to you, it meant everything. It was one small red heart, one little emoticon that hinted to you that he still might feel the same…
𖦹
The next morning was an early one for you. You spent hours perfecting the exact right image that would make you look good enough to go on what was essentially a date, but not so good that Jisung would immediately clock that you two were on a date. Sure meeting up with an old fling to talk about a secret child over coffee wasn’t the most romantic premise, but you couldn’t help but want to put your best foot forward when it came to him. It was almost shameful to admit internally how much you felt for him, but it was the honest truth. You still loved him.
The ding of the coffee shop door seemed to ring out like a chorus of hollow bell chimes in your ears as your head began spinning. Jisung was sitting at table to the far end of the cafe. You could see the rays of somber light peeking in through the window, diffused by the dusty oranges, reds, and browns of the fall leaves. Jisung fidgeted in his chair looking down at the table, and then his watch, then his phone, and back to the table. Two brown paper cups stood tall on the table in front of him, steam rising from them and collecting on the lenses of his glasses. He cracked his knuckles and gnawed at his fingernails nervously until finally catching a glimpse of you walking towards him. “Y/N” he exclaimed, clumsily getting to his feet and lightly tripping over a leg of his chair.
You tried your best to hold back laughter as he bumbled around, rushing to pull out a chair for you. You smiled and thanked him as you sat down. The rich pungent smell of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet steamed milk filled your nostrils and Jisung gently pushed one cup over to you.
“I assumed you still drank the same coffee. If that’s okay.” He cleared his throat hesitantly.
You could just about burst into tears at this very moment. After all these years he still remembered your coffee order. He was only missing one thing...
“Wait just a second…” he fumbled through his pockets for a moment and pulled out two small packets of sweetener. “I know you like to stir in your own sugar” he said.
Now it was perfect!
“Did you sleep okay?” He asked.
Jisung’s consideration for others, you in particular was always so evident. It’s like he couldn’t stop himself from making the kind of small talk that involved checking in on people. “I did.” You replied.
The two of you spent some time just sitting and catching up. You talked about school, work, old friends, tv shows, and just about everything you two would have talked about and experienced together had you been in contact for the past five and a half years. You didn’t really realize when, but the both of you had slowly transitioned to taking your coffee shop 'date' outside of the coffee shop and made your way to the park across the street. The air was cool and refreshing and Jisung couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud but the way you were bundled up with your scarf, gloved hands clutching your coffee like it might run away from you if you let it go was adorable. He also took not of how your coats subtly matched. Yours a light brown, and his a deep tan color made you two look complimentary, almost like a couple… almost.
“Did your daughter make it in time to watch her show?” He asked out of the blue.
You chuckled “You remembered that? She did actually. She even talked about you a bit after… before she went to bed she asked if I was meeting up with you soon.”
“No way!” He said and bumped your shoulder lightly with his coffee cup.
“Really I mean it! She’s so interested in what I do. She always asks about my friends.”
“Are we still friends?”
Your eyes went wide, your hands tensed up and a chill ran down your spine. “I mean- We were good friends at one point!” You choked on your words not knowing what to say.
“We were more than just good friends Y/N” he said.
“I know…”
Jisung bit his lip and you both looked at each other sheepishly, you caught his gaze and he caught yours before you both broke out into a fit of laughter. You two as a pair had a way of bringing out a silliness within yourselves that had you cackling like hyenas together but looking like absolute madmen to any onlookers passing by.
Your walk in the park was peaceful and comforting. So comforting in fact that you had almost forgotten why you wanted to meet up with him in the first place.
𖦹
“So what was the good news?” He said, taking a sip of his drink.
“What?”
“The good news! Remember before we broke up you said there was good news and bad news… the bad news was the break up and the good news was…” he giggled awkwardly “well I never got to find out”.
Why now of all times did he have to bring that up? What could you even say? You couldn’t run, you couldn’t hunker down somewhere and hide. You had to talk to him. It was now or never.
“Yeah about that… the good news was mostly good news for me”. You were internally facepalming at your high school self’s method of delivery when it came to something so important. ‘Good news and bad news’, how idiotic could you have been.
“That’s okay, I still want to know-” Jisung gently placed your hand in his, picking it up to wrap your fingers within his warm grasp. He knew it might be wrong but he really didn’t want to ask about your relationship status right now. “I was obsessed with everything you did back then, that part of me still really wants to know… Like would it have changed anything? I know that sounds stupid but it’s true…”
You couldn’t help but melt a little being in his hold once again. It lulled you in a way that made you forget the gravity of what you were about to abruptly spit out. “The good news was D/N”! You felt a lump form in your throat and you were jolted back a bit as Jisung stood there frozen in the midst of the cobblestone path. You immediately went into panic mode. Why wasn’t he saying anything? “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time and my parents pretty much told me to do whatever I thought was best! I didn’t want to push something so big on you right before graduation” You rambled on and on watching as Jisung seemed to only take in bits and pieces of what you were saying. Still you weren’t sure if he was buying your excuses or if they were going in one ear and out the other. He continued to just stand there stiff as a board tightening his hand around yours as you tried to usher him to a bench to sit down. It took a few minutes, but eventually you two found a quieter more private area of the park to talk it out. Jisung mostly sat and listened to you explain your reasoning for keeping D/N a secret from him for so long but he also acknowledged how this wasn’t information he would have wanted to receive any other way than in person and face to face.
He had always wanted to hear something like this from you but he always imagined it was going to be far in the future after you guys got married. Jisung’s thumb lightly caressed your knuckles and you thought your fingers might go numb from the prolonged hand holding. He looked down at your hand and as quiet as a mouse he laughed.
He laughed… Right there on the bench as the cool breeze swept his hair out of his eyes, he laughed. He slowly met your worried gaze, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes just as they did in yours. “Of course you went on to have the perfect life and be the perfect mother all without me.”
His words caught you off guard “Perfect? I’m like a mess ninety percent of the time, I just keep it together in front of my daughter.” You sniffled a bit “I did- I mean I still do want you to be in her life, it would be good for her…”
“Just for her” he asked playfully, tears still welling in his eyes.
“...and for me…” you looked down at the ground.
“Would your boyfriend be okay with that?”
“Boyfriend?” You felt the embarrassment return to you. “I haven’t dated anyone since you and I-” you could barely finish your sentence before Jisung’s lips were crashing into yours. His hot breath made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. His eyelashes gingerly brushed against your cheeks as he caught his breath. Exhaling through his nose he went back for more. Maybe it was because it had been so long, maybe it was because he was older and more experienced, but Jisung had never kissed you like this before. There was quiet desperation in the way your lips melded together as if he was asking you, begging you to be his again.
“Me neither” he said breathlessly finally letting you come up for air.
“I thought you had a girlfriend?”
“No way, I haven’t gone on a real date since I started college…”
“But your mother said-“
“My mother has been trying to set me up with some girl whose parents own a couple buildings downtown for ages now.” Jisung cupped your cheek affectionately. “She seems nice and all but it’s hard to go out with anyone else when all I do is think about you!”
“I think about you too.” You treasured the way such simple touches and matter of fact words could flip your worlds upside down. “I wish I had told you sooner… I really wish I told you so much earlier…” You really couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. You imagined just how crazy you looked crying on a public bench. “One second” you said reaching into your purse and pulling out a few tissues and some baby wipes. You lightly dabbed at the corners of Jisung’s eyes.
He reached over to you and used his thumbs to wipes your face simultaneously. “You’re such a mom.” He joked.
“I don’t understand how you aren’t mad at me right now?” you said.
Maybe he should have been, you wouldn’t have held it against him if he was. “Being with you is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. If that makes me crazy then so what. I’m crazy about you.”
It was hard to hide the shock on your face, you couldn’t believe he had just outright confessed his feelings to you before you even had time to process that wonderfully unexpected kiss.
“Anyways, it’s a relief that D/N is mine. If you had a kid with some other guy I don’t know what I’d do…” he planted another small kiss on your forehead.
“I think your parents would have been elated…” you trailed off.
“Who cares what my parents think! We’re not in highschool anymore!”
You couldn’t help but smile.
“I always knew we were meant to be family, it doesn’t matter how long it took. Just never keep a secret like that from me again” he laughed.
“I promise it’s all honesty from now on” you replied as Jisung pulled you into a warm embrace. He brought your body closer to his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you two took in the autumn scenery.
𖦹
It took a few weeks of coordinating but Jisung had finally come up to visit you in your home in the city. D/N was probably more excited than you. Your last couple days back at your parent's were spent watching Jisung play with your (now his) daughter in your parents living room. He seemed to have lived up to all her expectations and she had gotten over her qualms with his height one she realized how high up she could sit when on his shoulders.
You still hadn’t told her he was her father. You and Jisung agreed to wait to tell her until you two were more established. Sure you had dated before but this was now a whole new relationship. Your daughter practically leaped from her spot on the couch once she heard the doorbell ring and her dad’s signature tepid knock on the door.
You opened the door to see your boyfriend’s smiling face as he reached down to pick up D/N as she peppered him with questions. “Hey you!” He said nuzzling her nose and leaning over to give you a kiss as your daughter winced in disgust. He lugged in a large rolling suitcase with his one free hand as you ushered him through the front entrance.
“That’s all you brought?” You asked.
Jisung nodded “yeah for now… I was so eager to get over here that I only packed the essentials, I didn’t want to overwhelm you with all my stuff at once.”
“Please Jisung you’re getting ready to move in. You’re going to overwhelm me anyways” you teased.
“I’ll get the rest later! Right now I just want to hang out with you guys!” He put your daughter down and ruffled her hair. “So are you going to give me a tour?” He said leaning down to talk to her at eye level.
She just wordlessly dragged his wrist along to show him all her favorite spots in the house as you trailed along.
Much to the behest of his mother Jisung planned on having many more days like this and little did you know that the ring burning a hole in his coat pocket back in your hometown was the thing he was most excited to bring back in the next suitcase...
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