#and he thinks it sounds great so he just leaves it

[seungcheorry]

it pains seungcheol how his new girl's heart breaks at the way he looks through the window of that goddamn restaurant. maybe it's his fault afterall, he was the one to convince her to go to that place - he swore the food was amazing, and while it was far from being sitty, that wasn't the real reason why he wanted to go there.

it's one of your favorite places, the one he always took you whenever you felt sad or just a bit under the weather. in fact, the moment he walked into the lobby with his new girl, seungcheol couldn't hide the shame in his eyes as the owner's smile faltered when he didn't see you with him.

maybe part of him wanted to just reminisce you; maybe a tiny, tiny part of him just wanted to feel your presence again, somehow. maybe one of the pieces of his heart wished you to be there, somehow, somewhere.

and that little piece of his still broken heart was right, because what do you mean you're outside, laughing with your friends, apparently waiting for someone? what do you mean you're just a window away from him?

seungcheol knows, he knows he should look away, but the moment he realizes you're really there, he can't help but stare - at your face, the way you laugh, how you hair has slightly changed, your clothes that were once thrown at his bedroom floor; at you.

the longer he stares, the faster his mind races. he can't pinpoint what he's feeling, but he knows it comes with love. maybe longing? maybe sadness because you're no longer his, although he will most likely always be yours?

and in the very back of his head, there's guilty too. again, it saddens him that he's hurting someone in the proccess - and his new girl could never deserve any of that, to be honest -, but he can't help it. she's great, really funny, emotionally available and so smart, probably even more than him. she treats him just right, his dad loves her even though his mom seems like she's just polite towards the girl sometimes, exactly like jeonghan, for some reason.

she's everything - except, she isn't you.

she isn't you and she could never be you. you, who's now staring back at seungcheol through the window glass; you, who look taken aback by his presence there, and who looks from him to his girl and then back to him.

no, no, no. you're getting it all wrong. he's not over you, he could never possibly be over you. he can explain why he's there with her.

seungcheol watches as you discreetly tells something to your friend, who snaps their head back to where he is, giving you an apologetic look. you shrug it off, a tiny smile in your lips as your friend throw an arm around your shoulders and pull you closer. seungcheol's chest tings with jealousy.

he watches, powerlessly, as one of your friends he actually knows arrives. she greets everyone, and suddenly there's a shift in the mood as someone tells her something, and she also looks back to where seungcheol is.

do they hate him? do they think seungcheol hurted you somehow, that he's an asshole? do they judge him for being with someone else? what did you tell them after the breakup? do you hate him him too?

he can't do much but continue to watch, his hands slightly shaking as he sees your friend saying something and, suddenly, walking away with you still under their arm. everyone follows, leaving the restaurant's porch empty.

it kills seungcheol that you didn't look back.

"you still love her", he hears someone - his girlfriend - say. when seungcheol finally looks at her, she offers him a sad smile. there's something running down his cheek, but he's not sure when did his eyes got glassy like that.

"i'm sorry", it's all he manages to whisper, cleaning his throat as he looks down. 'i'm really sorry."

seungcheol doesn't expect an answer, and he's actually glad when it doesn't come. the sound of the restaurant is already buzzing in his ears, and he can't help but think that he had never noticed how noisy that place was, not when he was with you.

but then again, he always only had eyes for you. and that? that didn't change. it will most likely never change.

a/n: i wrote this while listening to mingyu's cover of glimpse of us. full os angst, just how i like it. (:

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ baby fever .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

⤿ after babysitting eri, bakugou develops unexpected baby fever, leading to sweet and heartfelt moments with yn as he imagines future with her.

⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .

- I got inspired by @sweeturavity story that is also called baby fever. I hope you don’t mind, I can take it down if you want to!

It wasn’t something Bakugou ever expected to feel. The mighty future Number One Hero, Katsuki Bakugou, did not get distracted by the thought of tiny humans with chubby cheeks and big eyes. Or so he told himself.

But lately, it had been hard to ignore.

It all started when he babysat Eri for an afternoon while Aizawa had an emergency. Bakugou was initially hesitant—kids were loud, sticky, and unpredictable. But when Eri reached out her small hand to hold his and gave him a shy smile, something in his chest did a funny flip. She had fallen asleep on his lap while watching cartoons, and Bakugou couldn’t stop staring at her peaceful face.

From then on, Bakugou started noticing babies and kids everywhere. During a trip to the mall with his friends, a toddler waddling around in a dinosaur onesie caught his eye. At a park nearby, a dad was teaching his little boy how to kick a ball, and Bakugou found himself watching longer than necessary.

He was annoyed with himself. He was Katsuki Bakugou. He didn’t have time to think about babies. But the thought of a tiny hand gripping his finger wouldn’t leave his head.

And then there was YN.

YN had always been the calm to his storm, the quiet presence that softened his sharp edges. She had a way of making him feel seen, understood, even when he didn’t say much. They weren’t officially a couple—yet. But Bakugou was sure she felt the same way he did.

Today, Bakugou found himself sitting on the couch in the dorm common area, scrolling through his phone. He wasn’t looking at training videos or hero interviews. No, he was watching videos of babies giggling at their parents’ silly antics.

“You okay, Katsuki?”

He nearly dropped his phone at the sound of YN’s voice. She was standing behind him, her head tilted in curiosity.

“Tch. What do you want?” he muttered, locking his phone quickly.

YN walked around the couch and sat beside him, her soft smile disarming him as always. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” she said, resting her chin on her hand. “Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Her gaze drifted to his phone, which was still unlocked on the home screen. “Were you watching baby videos?”

Bakugou froze. “No!” he barked, his face going red.

YN’s laugh was light and sweet. “It’s okay, you know. Babies are adorable.”

“I wasn’t—ugh, fine!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, okay? Ever since I babysat Eri, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” YN asked gently.

“About… having a kid. Someday,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. He refused to meet her eyes, staring instead at the coffee table. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m too busy trying to be a hero to think about crap like that.”

YN’s heart softened at his vulnerable confession. She placed a hand on his arm, and he finally looked at her. “It’s not stupid,” she said softly. “It just shows you have a big heart. You’d make a great dad one day, Katsuki.”

He blinked, startled by her words. “You think so?”

She nodded. “You’re tough, but you care deeply. You’re protective and hardworking. Any kid would be lucky to have you as their parent.”

For the first time, Bakugou felt a weight lift off his chest. He allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. “You’d make a pretty great mom too, you know.”

YN’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away, flustered. “Oh, um… thanks.”

Bakugou smirked at her reaction, feeling a rare sense of peace. Maybe one day, when they were both ready, they could tackle the adventure of parenthood together.

For now, he was content knowing he wasn’t alone in his thoughts—and that maybe, just maybe, his future wasn’t so far out of reach after all.

[tobesolonely]

untitled angsty but then sweet piece...

hello guys!! it's been like over a year lol. I was going through my google doc and found this and I feel like I never posted it? so now I am posting it. maybe this can be a part 1 but also we know I'm great at starting multipart stories and not finishing them so lets see

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

warnings: none (~1.2k words)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“You're just gonna ignore me then, babe?”

Y/N continues silently puttering around in the kitchen, going out of her way to make sure her back remained turned on Harry. There weren't many ways to get under his skin, but throughout her years of being with him she learned that being on the receiving end of the silent treatment usually made him fold pretty quickly. She was annoyed with her husband and the fact that he seemed clueless as to why made her even more upset.  

“I take your silence as a yes?” 

More puttering. More re-wiping the already clean counters. Starting the tea kettle. Washing her hands. Anything to not acknowledge Harry, really.

“I can’t make it better if you don't tell me why you're so upset, love,” he takes a tentative step toward her. “I know we've been together for ages but I still can't read your mind. Think ‘m gettin’ real close, though.”

This is said jokingly, and she knows her husband is just trying to dissipate the tension that's thick in their kitchen, making the spacious room seem impossibly small. She doesn't acknowledge his joke, doesn't crack a smile because that would give him too much satisfaction. Nothing made Harry cockier than being the reason for Y/N’s laugh, a sound so sweet she’s pretty sure he’d forbid everyone on the planet except him from listening to it because he wanted it all to himself. He always told her it was music to his ears.

The fact that he doesn't even know what he did is what finally causes her to break, muttering about how fucking ridiculous he is under her breath. It's not lost on Harry. 

“Now you've moved on from ignoring me to cursing at me?” he sounds more curious than upset, taking another step toward her. She backs away, defensively crossing her arms over her chest and she doesn't miss the way Harry’s brow furrows at the action. “Can y’please tell me what I did, Y/N? Please?” When she looks down at the ground, ignoring his please, he begs some more. He’s not above groveling, really. 

“Please, angel? Lemme fix it,” his eyes are wide and wild as he wildly searches hers for some clue as to what he did wrong. “Tell me-”

“Am I always just gonna come second with you?” 

She can almost see the wheels in her husband’s head turning, knows he's choosing his words carefully before he speaks so as not to upset her any further. 

“Okay, love,” he runs a ringer hand through his hair. “Can you be a little bit more specific?”

“We had plans this afternoon, Harry. We were gonna try that new café that just opened. I was looking forward to it,” she doesn't care if this makes her sound selfish and childish. “I know you were working and I know you how much you love to do that, but sometimes I feel like-”

“Don’t even finish that thought,”  Harry cuts her off and his tone is sharp, calloused. “That’s not true.”

“You know, at first I was worried something happened when you didn't show,” Y/N continues like she didn't hear him. “But then I realized nope, you probably just forgot or couldn't get out of another meeting. Just like always.”

A look of sadness flashes across Harry’s face, which quickly transforms to indignant anger. “Don't throw this in my face, Y/N. You know how much I hate that.” 

“So I’m supposed to be mindful of the things you hate, but you can't be mindful of the things I hate?”

“You don't get it,” he mumbles under his breath, growing increasingly done with the conversation the longer it drags on. “You're not in the industry. I can't just always leave-” 

“Then blame it on me! Make me the bad guy, Harry,” she finally turns all the way around to face him completely. “The people you work with get to see you more than I do…the fans…” Y/N trails off, letting her unfinished thoughts hang limply in the air. 

It’s quiet between the couple for no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Harry breaks it first - he always does. He inhaled a deep shaky breath, trying to call forward the breathing techniques his therapist taught him to use in high-stress situations. Right now counts as a high-stress situation. 

“You’re right, angel,” the pet name slips off his tongue easily which comforts Y/N. Harry’s not as upset as she thought he was. He’s still her Harry. “That’s not fair of me, is it?”

All Y/N can do is shake her head, lower lip jutted out. She knows if she tries speaking she’ll start crying, and she doesn't want to cry. All she wants is for Harry to understand. Harry however, knows her too well. He knows the look she gets on her face when she's trying really hard not to cry and he knows she goes silent because she doesn't trust her voice not to come out shakey. He decides to continue talking.

“I should've called you and let you know I’d be late- or told you we needed to reschedule. I’m sorry I left you hanging, darling.” He pauses, selecting his next words very wisely. Harry knows his wife is sensitive. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's blaming her for anything. “...but it seems like this is about more than me missing our lunch. Which, again, I'm very sorry about. I'm taking you wherever you want for dinner tonight and I'll make you dessert when we get home. Let's talk more about this though, yeah?”

“You also have to be in charge of picking up after Hershey for a month,” Y/N responds with a small smile on her face. Hershey was the couple’s tiny brown poodle who was the cutest puppy in the world. “Thank you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, knowing his wife was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted since she hated confrontation. Since being with Harry her communication skills have improved tremendously since he was so good at it and wanted to talk about everything, but healthy communication clearly still didn't come as easily to her. “Talk to me, angel. What’s this about?”

Harry’s in front of her now, arms wrapped limply around her waist. He walks her backward until the small of her back hits the counter then he tells her to, “jump” so he can lift her onto the counter. Once she's situated he settles himself in between her legs and places his arms back on their place on her waist. Harry looks intently into Y/N’s eyes and she knows she won’t be leaving that spot until she tells him what's bothering her, so she just says it.

“I want a baby.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in quick surprise before breaking out in a wide grin- the kind that causes his nose to scrunch up and wrinkles to form around his eyes. 

“You want a baby? W’ me?”

Y/N doesn’t return his smile, which quickly makes Harry’s turn into a frown.

“Why don’t you look happy?”

Y/N sighs, her eyes avoiding Harry’s. He gently places his index finger under her chin and pushes it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. He’s desperately searching his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out why she isn’t more excited about coming to this big decision. Harry has been ready for years of course, but he never wanted her to feel pressured.

“You’re never here, Harry. I don’t want to feel like a single mom.” Y/N looks down again and Harry doesn’t lift her chin back up this time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for what feels like a couple minutes but is actually maybe only twenty seconds, the faucet leaking being the only sound heard throughout the whole house.

“Y/N…love,” Harry inhales a shaky breath, removing one of his hands from her hip to run his fingers through his curls. “I never want to make you feel like you’re alone. Not just with this, but…with anything.” Harry gently knuckles away a stray tear falling down Y/N’s cheek. 

“I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, H. I guess it’s just what I signed up for when I married a popstar, yeah?” Harry can tell Y/N is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t like that he’s the reason for he feeling this way.

“You didn’t “sign up” for anything, love. I’m your husband and you’re my wife and we’re supposed to be there for each other through it all, good and bad.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Harry gently pinches her hip, muttering for her to let him finish. “I want a baby with you. I want everything with you, Y/N. I want to be here for everything. I’m going to be better about being here.”

“H…I love you and I know you’ll try, but you’ve said this before-”

“I’ll take a break, babe. Cancel everything,” Harry’s talking faster now, excitement about his plan evident in his voice. “We’ll focus on ourselves and start our family. Go out of the country and leave my bloody phone here, if you’d like.” Y/N giggles at that, which makes Harry give her a big, dimpled grin.

“Will it be okay? With Jeff and everyone?” Although Y/N’s sure people on Harry’s team won’t be happy with his sudden change in plans, she can’t deny how charming the idea sounds. She could already picture them at their favorite villa in Italy, the one Harry purchased as a wedding gift to her and where they spent their unforgettable honeymoon. In all honesty, she’s surprised they didn’t get a baby out of that trip.

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about buying yourself some new bikinis, yeah?” Harry places a lingering kiss to Y/N’s jawbone. “Perhaps a few things for me to rip off you too, hmm?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

hooray for happy endings :')

[buzzinrusso]

New years meeting

I'm sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice !! It's based off this request a very nice anon sent !

---

New Year's Eve had arrived, and the city was buzzing with excitement. The streets were filled with people heading to parties, clubs, and bars to ring in the new year. You, however, weren’t looking for wild celebrations. After a hectic year, you just wanted a quiet evening to unwind, so you decided to stop by a low-key bar for a drink. The vibe was just what you needed—chilled, yet festive enough to enjoy the night

But as you sat at the bar nursing your drink, an overly confident guy had started making things uncomfortable. He slid into the seat next to you, a forced grin on his face as he eyed you up.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone on New Year’s Eve?” he said, his voice too loud for the quiet setting.

You smiled politely, hoping he’d take the hint. “Just having a drink. I’m good, thanks,” you said, keeping your gaze on your glass.

But the guy didn’t back off. He leaned in closer, his breath smelling faintly of whiskey. “C’mon, I bet you could use some company tonight. We could have a good time together.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to give him a pointed look. “I’m really not interested,” you said, your voice firmer this time.

He ignored you, moving even closer, reaching out a hand to touch your arm. “Come on, don’t be shy,” he said, his hand inching toward yours.

At that moment, you felt a sharp presence beside you—someone stepping in. You turned to see a woman with dark hair, wearing a sleek leather jacket, standing tall with a confident air. It was Alexia.

“Hey,” Alexia said, her tone calm but firm. “She said she’s not interested, so you’re going to have to piss off.”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden interruption. “What?” he mumbled, squinting at Alexia as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I said piss off,” Alexia repeated, her voice unwavering. She stepped closer to him, eyes locking onto his with such intensity that it made the guy visibly stumble back. "She told you she’s not interested. Take the hint and move along."

The guy opened his mouth, but no words came out. He glanced at Alexia and then at you, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this one. Finally, he muttered something incoherent and slunk away, disappearing into the crowd.

You blinked, surprised at how easily Alexia had handled the situation.

"Thanks," you said, still a little shaken but relieved. "I didn’t know how else to get him to leave me alone."

“No problem,” Alexia said with a reassuring smile. She glanced at you, her eyes softening. “Some people just don’t get the message. Glad I could help.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension start to leave your body. “That was exactly what I needed. I was about to lose my patience.”

Alexia gave you a light laugh. “I’ve had to do that more times than I can count. People don’t seem to understand what ‘no’ means sometimes.”

You smiled, finally feeling like you could relax. “I guess I owe you one. I didn’t think anyone would step in.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t owe me anything. But if you’re feeling generous, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a drink with you.”

You chuckled, feeling the ice break between you. “That sounds great. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Alexia,” she replied with a smirk. “And you?”

“y/n,” you answered, offering your hand.

She shook it firmly, her smile warm and genuine. There was something about the way she carried herself that made you feel comfortable, even in this crowded bar.

The two of you made your way to the bar to grab another round, and as you stood there, Alexia’s teammates from the other side of the room—Mapi, Irene, Patri, and Claudia—were watching, clearly noticing the dynamic between you two.

---

As Alexia ordered drinks, her teammates couldn’t help but exchange a few glances and muttered remarks. Mapi, ever the loud one, leaned over to Irene with a playful grin. “Look at Lex. First she saves the stranger, and now she’s all cozy with her.”

Irene raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping up on her face. “We all know ale isn’t exactly the talk-to-random-strangers type. She must be into her.”

Alexia had her back turned, not hearing the conversation, but you couldn’t help but notice the way her teammates were eyeing the two of you. Patri shot a knowing smirk at Claudia, who was trying to suppress her own grin.

“You think ale is going to kiss her before midnight?” Patri asked, her tone amused.

Claudia shook her head, but her lips curled into a small smile. “With the way she’s looking at her, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The teasing continued as Alexia returned with the drinks, but she didn’t let it faze her. She was used to her teammates giving her a hard time. “Here you go,” Alexia said, handing you your drink. “Ignore them—they love to poke fun.”

You laughed, taking the drink. “I think they might be onto something though. You’ve got a bit of that ‘heart-eyes’ look right now.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “They’re insufferable,” she muttered under her breath, but there was an amused sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you.

Just as the conversation died down, Patri called out loudly from across the bar, “Hey, ale, don’t forget! It’s New Year’s Eve—perfect time for a kiss, right?”

Alexia shot a glare at her, but the playful smile she gave you showed no signs of being upset. “Ignore her,” Alexia said with a chuckle. “She’s just looking for drama.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of her presence. "Well, if you insist on ignoring them, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company instead."

---

The night continued on, filled with laughter, teasing, and good conversation. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the energy in the bar grew more intense. The countdown began, and you could feel the anticipation in the air.

Alexia was standing a little closer now, and every glance you exchanged made your heart flutter. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, the whole bar erupted in cheers. You felt Alexia step closer, her breath warm against your skin, and without a second thought, she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a slow, lingering kiss. It was brief, but it carried so much unspoken energy between you two—an electric charge that made everything around you disappear for a moment. When she pulled back, her smile was soft, and her eyes sparkled with something deeper.

"Happy New Year," Alexia whispered, her voice just for you.

"Happy New Year," you replied, feeling your heart race, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t care about anything else.

---

The days after New Year’s Eve were filled with messages, phone calls, and casual conversations that made you smile every time you checked your phone. Alexia had texted you the morning after the party, and you had quickly exchanged texts, agreeing to go on a proper date.

“Had a great time with you last night. Wanna grab dinner sometime this week?” Alexia had messaged you.

Your heart fluttered as you quickly responded, “Absolutely. When’s good for you?”

She replied almost instantly: “How about Thursday? There’s this great Italian place I know. The food’s amazing.”

“Sounds perfect. Can’t wait,” you texted back, already excited about the idea of seeing her again.

---

Thursday evening rolled around, and you found yourself waiting outside the restaurant, your heart beating faster with anticipation. When Alexia arrived, you couldn’t help but smile. She looked effortlessly stunning in a black leather jacket, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” she greeted you with a soft smile. “Ready to eat?”

��Definitely,” you replied with a grin, feeling your nerves ease as soon as she was in front of you.

The meal was perfect—casual yet intimate, with easy conversation flowing. You laughed, talked about everything from your favorite foods to the random little details that made each of you unique. You felt like you were learning more about her with every sentence.

By the end of the evening, you exchanged numbers for real, saved each other's contacts, and promised to keep in touch. Alexia smiled at you, her gaze soft and her heart-eyes unmistakable.

“I’m glad we did this,” she said, her voice quieter now, but full of sincerity.

“Me too,” you replied, feeling the connection between you grow stronger. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Neither can I,” Alexia said, her hand brushing yours as she pulled away, a grin on her face.

As she drove away, you stood there, watching her leave with a heart full of possibility, knowing that this was just the beginning of something amazing.

---

And so, with a kiss, a few exchanged messages, and the start of something real, you and Alexia began to explore what this new year had in store for the both of you.

And that night , you both didn't know it, but you had each net the love of your lives . Your New years meeting would become a story that you would tell to your kids , and a story that your kids will tell to their kids.

[jinnie-ret]

take a chance with me

lee know x reader

genre: mostly fluff, teeny angst

content warnings: one mention of a stroke (it's not an actual one just Minho malfunctioning lol)

word count: 1.8k

summary: lee know was too scared to express his feelings - lucky you were there to convince him his feelings were mutual

a/n: Umm... hi, lol. It's been a while since I've posted. Hopefully this is a nice surprise hehe

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Waking up early each morning and leaving your home at 06:30am would seem like a chore to most people. For you? It was incredibly rewarding to enter the workplace, opening up the front office for the day. Your friends had questioned you wondering how you did it, but helping your parents manage a cat rescue home soothed a part of your soul you didn't know you needed healing, particularly when dreaming of becoming an astronaut, a bus driver or a world famous actor as a child.

Though the biting winds sent a chill through your bones, the sun shone down upon you, rays reflecting off of the icy pavements on your route to work. The weather really couldn't make it's mind up recently. It reminded you of someone.

"Minho, hi! You're early!" you grinned, poking your head out of your scarf that you had wrapped securely around your neck. He seemed to brighten your day even further, as cheesy as it sounded. It was the way he bantered with you, back and forth, exciting you for what witty statement he'd come out with next.

"Visitor's Day, remember?" Minho simply commented, a cloud of air escaping his mouth as his teeth chattered, hands shoved deeply into his coat pockets.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" your eyebrows furrowed in concern, your own hands digging around your pockets for the schedule of the day. It was a fortnightly occurrence in which you'd accept visitors looking around, hoping to re-home the cats that deserved a place to feel safe, loved and looked after. In fact, it was how you met Minho.

Two years ago was when he first set foot into the establishment, quiet, demure and unfazed. That was, until he was led to the small huts outside where the cats resided. Sneaking out some treats from his pocket, he fed a gorgeous boy he soon named Dori, feeling an instant attachment (the two of them). He tried to find his way back inside, ready to sign some adoption papers, when he stumbled into what he thought was merely a stack of boxes, not initially realising that you were behind them and trying to haul them inside on your own.

"I'm so sorry!" you had gasped apologetically, immediately grabbing a broom to the side and sweeping the rogue pieces of kibble that had escaped it's confines.

"Eh, don't worry," Minho shrugged, trying to play it cool although he couldn't stop himself from giving you a quick scan from head to toe in case he had hurt you, "at least they're not being starved, it's reassuring," he added on, laughing through his nose as he straightened up the boxes of cat food.

"You should see Gingy, he's a chonky boy," you jokes, brushing your hair out of your face and glancing up at him. All you could think was, and later you berated yourself for it, but the cat that got to go home with this one was certainly lucky.

"Oh? What if he heard that?" Minho teases, wondering if you'd feign the dramatics, or even get flustered at the idea.

"He knows," you shake your head and chuckle, making a smarter decision now in only grabbing one box.

"Oh, sorry did you need any-"

"Did you want some help with-"

Comically, you both fell silent simultaneously, feeling awkward that you had spoken over and cut off each other at the same time.

"I'll grab a box," Minho speaks up, moving to stand beside you.

"Oh thank you! That's a great help, truly. I was just going to ask if you wanted those adoption papers," you practically beamed.

"How could you tell?"

"You've got some blue fluff on you. That's from Lilo's hut."

"Actually, his name is Dori."

And when you found out Minho had two other cats and the reasoning behind the name 'Dori', you melted instantly. On the spot. Like, literally on the floor had it not been for the rational part of your brain telling you to stop falling for a man you had just met. Minho's sweet Dori completed his little cat family, the soft, gentle trio of boys.

To say you were Minho's biggest advocate when he admitted to wanting to help out and work alongside you at the Cat Rescue, would be completely right. You had brought him straight to your parents, informing them of how knowledgeable and tender he was in interacting with the cats and the rest was history.

Although, that wasn't where this story ended.

"Did you also forget the key?" Minho snapped you out of your reverie.

"Huh? What- no, here," you grasped the key and eagerly gave it to Minho, unsure if your fingers would have the strength to unlock the door, locking up from the inhumanely cold temperatures.

"Ah, she did remember," Minho smirked, soon having to catch his balance after you impulsively shoved his shoulder a bit too hard with your own.

"Unlock the door, pudding boy," you joked, Minho rolling his eyes in response. He could never let you have the upper hand for too long, however.

"I prefer jagi," he batted his eyelashes at you in an over the top way, making you groan and cover your eyes as a form of protection. You loved it really, you just weren't sure on if you should show it.

Minho had told you many times before that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Whether it was you recklessly running into the middle of the road to save a kitten from being hit, or spending your savings on allowing a family the chance to adopt a cat into their lives, you acted upon your love for others. On the other hand, he knew he was too scared to show you how he really felt. Banter, jokes, 'fake' flirting was the perfect cover up to distract him from his feelings, as well as the ones he hadn't yet recognised you shared.

Oddly, there was an awkwardness in the air between the two of you by the end of the day. Perhaps it was the elderly pair who commented on your selflessness as a couple, or seeing many young partners enter and adopt their first pet together. It triggered emotions within you both that had remained hidden for too long. You weren't just good friends, but you were made for each other. The love of cats; the gentleness you exuded and he let slip more often than he'd like to admit and the ease in which you both took in pushing the others' buttons.

Minho always thought you were bolder than him.

"Do you ever think we'll find love, Minho?" you yawned, sweeping up the remnants of dirt that had escaped the many pairs of shoes that entered the home today.

"We?" Minho paused, his grip on the mop slipping ever so slightly before he regained his composure, "I'm not really searching."

Of course he wasn't, not when-

"But is that because you’ve already found it? I don’t want to be bold but-" you nearly scolded yourself for daring to speak when your mind was all over the place.

"That would shock me if you weren’t," Minho snorted, easily falling back into his natural self.

"I'm being real, right now, Min," you squeezed your eyes shuts, back facing him and not wanting to face rejection.

"That's good, here's me thinking you were an illusion all along-"

"Just take a chance, Minho! With me. I-if it doesn’t work out, then we’ll still be friends, we’ll figure it out," you glanced over at him cautiously. Whilst your words were rushed and fumbly, your actions were timid.

Minho's brain malfunctioned. Is this what it felt like to have a stroke? Did you just confess your love for him? Wasn't it just another bit of banter?

"We're friends?" he teased, in that tone he always used. It now felt like a painful reminder, that you'd never truly get through to him. Really, he was testing the waters, and masking it as usual.

"I wish you would just be honest with me," you sighed quietly, your posture slightly hunched. Minho didn't like that. He liked when you stood tall, confident, proud.

"About what? I haven’t lied about anything," Minho busied himself with mopping the floor in order to distract himself from you. As long as he could see the shine in the wooden flooring panning across the entrance of the home, it was enough to put the aside the guilt he felt when the sparkle in your eye dimmed ever so slightly.

The days seemed to drag on endlessly after the unspoken rejection from the guy you had been crushing on for years, now. He hadn't opened up with you in a while - that's the shop we're talking about, not Minho and his thoughts and feelings. He hadn't ever really done that with you, minus a couple of short, rare occasions. Your parents had noticed the slight dullness that seemed to tie the two of you together, it taking a lot of convincing from them to you to lead another Visitor's Day with Minho. The only convincing factor for you in that moment had been when you drifted off into your own thoughts, fading away from the lecture you were receiving and instead finding comfort in the fact that it would be a busy day. There would be no time to think when you were working.

But when it came to the end of both of your shifts? Too much time to think, to dwell, to ponder.

"Well, umm, bye," you nodded politely at him and robotically waved with how stiff you felt in looking at him. Yet it seemed to give ample opportunity for Minho to grab your hand and pull you back towards him before you could rush away, just like he had regrettably done all those evenings ago.

"Oh, what's this about?" you questioned, praying that your hands didn't start getting clammy simply from being so close to him in this way.

"We're going on a date," Minho firmly stated, but his words didn't match his actions, his eyes shyly trailing off to the side and the tops of his ears turning red. How endearing.

"No."

"No?!"

"You can look me in the eyes and say it."

Oh, yes, he had definitely gotten lucky with you. Even though his heart pounded in worry that you would reject him too and he would have been too late, he was able to look you in the eyes and throw a one liner right back at you.

"Hmm, maybe I change my mind," Minho shrugged, feigning a carelessness and dropping his hand from yours.

"Hey! Come on!" you pulled him back towards you, chest to chest, an intense amount of love pouring from both of your souls as you gazed into each others' eyes.

"I'm taking you on a date," Minho affirmed, poking your nose to startle you before you realised he too had been on another planet.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @katzline @kiwihrt @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[insidekatmind]

Bet in Madrid pt.2-Jude Bellingham

Pt.1

Plot: While on holiday in Madrid with your friends, you notice Jude Bellingham, Vinícius Jr, Rodrygo and Mbappé in a bar. Your friends challenge you: you have to ask Jude for a kiss, or you will pay for dinner.

The buzz of the venue fills the air as the footballers exchange chatter with each other, their laughter low and their words barely audible above the background music. Your eyes continue to rest on Jude Bellingham. And his gaze, every now and then, comes back to look for you. You notice it immediately: the tension, the curiosity, that hint of a smile that lights up his face as he talks to Vinícius Jr. “She’s a catch bro” Vinicius says.Jude laughs and nods in response

“She definitely looks more than a good kisser” he says.

“Oh she does, looks like she’s feisty” Vinicius answers and Jude smiles “Looks like it and I’m interested in finding out”.

In the meantime you had gotten up to go to the counter to order a martini. Jude watches as you get up and walks to the counter to order a drink and looks at you like prey. He then turns his attention back to Vini

“I’m thinking of talking to her again” Jude says and Vinicius smile. “Go for it. Can’t leave it for too long bro or someone else might get her”

Jude grins as he nods his head in response to Vini’s comment. He gets up off his chair and walks to you at the counter. He approaches you at the counter and stands next to you.When you hearing someone who had sat next to you, you turn and smile looking at Jude.

"Look who shows up again" you make fun of.

He chuckles as he leans his elbow on the bar.“Hey there doll. Couldn’t get enough of me huh?”

You thank the barrista and take the martini, taking a sip and then turning to look at Jude again. “You're the one who came to me,” you say, amused, looking at him.

He smirks as he watches you take a sip of your drink.“That’s true doll but can you blame me? You look so good how could I stay away”. You smile softly at his words looking at him.

Jude smiles back at you and looks you up and down again “And this dress. It fits you perfectly”.

You smile amused at his words and place the drink on the counter. “Well thank you, I'm honored that the great Jude Bellinghiam likes my dress” you say with a hint of amusement.

He chuckles as he looks at you “Of course I like it look how it shows off your body”.

You smile and bite your lip looking at him. “Is the great Jude Belingham hitting on me?” you say jokingly.

He laughs at your question and smirks at you.“I might be doll. Is it working?” You smile and approach him, leaning on the counter, showing more of the neckline of your dress. "What do you think?" you ask seductively.

Jude looks at the neckline of your dress and he grins as you get closer to him.“Looks like its working to me doll”.

You smile amused and touch his arm while looking at him. He smirks as you touch his arm and looks back at you.“You just can’t get enough of me can you doll?”

You smile mischievously, licking your lips. “Well how could I?” you whisper seductively.

Jude grins even more at your comment. “Can’t argue with that. You’re too tempting darling”

Your smile becomes bolder, while your eyes are fixed in his. "Temptress, eh? I could say the same about you, Jude.". He laughs slowly, tilting his head to one side as he looks at you carefully.

"Oh yeah? I didn’t think it was me that made you bite your lip," he replied, in a tone so confident of himself that he snapped a funny smile.

"Maybe it’s just a habit," you counter, taking another sip of your martini. "Doesn’t mean you’re hitting me so hard.".

"Really?" Jude approaches, his elbow still leaning against the counter as his body tilts towards you. "Because I think he is doing it." Smile, shaking your head slightly.

"Are you sure your fame isn’t making you a little too much of a head?". He laughs, a low and deep sound that seems to fill the space around you.

"Maybe. But I’m not talking about my fame, I’m talking about me. And something tells me you like me, doll." You leave the glass on the counter and lean towards it, shortening the distance even more.

"What if it was? What would you do?" you ask, your voice a provocative whisper.

Jude looks at you intensely, his smile becoming slower and more deliberate. "Well, then I would continue to do what I am doing. Just a little more boldness.".

It makes you smile, but raise an eyebrow, amuse yourself. "Boldness? You’re already quite daring, Jude."

"Yes? I haven’t started yet, trust me," he replies, tone full of promise. Before you can answer, the bartender interrupts you, asking if you want another drink.

You shake your head, but Jude fits in, looking at you. "Give her another martini. I’ll buy you one." You turn to him, lips half bent in a smile. "No need, you know?".

"I know," he simply replies. "But I wanted to." Your new martini comes in quick, and Jude raises his glass in an imaginary toast.

“Here's to you, doll. And to the fact that you made this evening much more interesting.”. You raise your glass in a toast, your eyes meeting over the rim.

“To us, then. And the fact that you know how to get noticed.”. You both drink, and when you lower your glass, he smiles again.

“So, what do you think about dropping everything else and spending the rest of the evening with me?” Its audacity surprises and fascinates you at the same time.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider the proposal. “It depends,” you reply with a mysterious smile.

“What do you have in mind?”. Jude leans even closer, his voice low and intimate.

“I know a quiet place, away from all this chaos. Just me, you and the time to get to know each other better.”. You feel a shiver run down your spine as his words reach you.

“Temptress, you said?” you retort, the mischievous smile you tear from him making you feel almost victorious.

“You are more so than you think,” he says, his tone a perfect mix of challenge and interest. “So, what do you say, doll? Do you accept my proposal?”

As Jude suggests the idea of leaving the club to spend more time with you, your heart races but you manage to keep a mysterious smile on your lips.

Your heart flutters when his voice drops as he suggests a private space with just you two, making your spine tingle.Your smile becomes bolder as you feel the heat and tension between you two increase, Jude's tone challenging you to take the next step.

[scoupsakakitty]

hey can I request svt reacting to y/n going to other concerts. by the way is that you on your profile picture? if yes you’re sooo prettyyyy omg!!!!

Yes that’s me☺️ that’s so sweet thank you 🥹👉🏻👈🏻❤️

SVT Reaction on Y/N going to other concerts

1. S.Coups

Seungcheol would lean back in his chair, trying to keep his tone neutral, but his jealousy would be obvious.

“So, you went to an Ateez concert?”

When Y/N nodded with a smile, he raised an eyebrow.

“Without telling me? You know, I could’ve gone with you. I’m fun at concerts, too.”

He smirked, trying to play it off as a joke, but later he’d quietly mumble, “I’m still cooler than them.”

2. Jeonghan

Jeonghan would tease her endlessly.

“Oh, you went to Stray Kids concert? Did you forget you’re dating a Seventeen member, or were you just trying to make me jealous?”

When Y/N rolled her eyes, he grinned slyly.

“Fine, fine. But don’t be surprised if I start listening to their music just to check out my competition.”

3. Joshua

Joshua would smile warmly but with a hint of uneasiness.

“TXT? That’s cool. Did you enjoy it?”

When Y/N gushed about the experience, he nodded slowly.

“You know, I get it. They’re talented. But next time, let me know, and I’ll make sure you have even better seats. Or maybe I’ll go with you I wouldn’t mind seeing them live.”

4. Jun

Jun would act playful, but there’d be a glimmer of genuine curiosity.

“You went to see Enhypen? Without me?”

He’d tilt his head dramatically and pretend to think.

“Are you replacing me already, Y/N? Be honest.”

When she laughed, he smirked.

“Fine, but next time, we’re going together so I can show them who the real star is.”

5. Hoshi

Hoshi would act overly dramatic.

“MONSTA X? MONSTA X? Y/N, how could you betray me like this?”

He’d throw his hands in the air, pacing around the room as if he was heartbroken.

“You know, I thought we were a team. But clearly, I’ve been replaced by someone with more muscles.”

Then, he’d grin mischievously.

“Fine, next time, I’m coming along. Let’s see if they can impress me, too.”

6. Wonwoo

Wonwoo would raise an eyebrow when he hears about P1Harmony.

“You went to see P1Harmony? That’s interesting…”

He’d pause for a moment, pretending to be nonchalant.

“I guess I’ll have to check out their music now. Maybe I’ll get inspired by their style.”

When Y/N teases him about their vocals, he’d smirk and say,

“Well, I hope their voices are as good as mine. If not, I might have to give them a lesson in singing.”

7. Woozi

Woozi would stay quiet at first, but his composer instincts would take over.

“BTS? Hmm… I guess their music is alright.”

He’d glance at Y/N and add,

“Did they inspire you more than me? Be honest.”

Although he’d sound casual, he’d quietly think about how to make Seventeens next concert even more unforgettable.

8. DK

DK would overreact in the most theatrical way possible.

“SHINee? Y/N! You didn’t even ask me to go with you?”

He’d collapse onto the couch, pretending to be heartbroken.

“Now I’ll never know how it feels to see them live…”

After a moment, he’d sit up with a grin.

“Fine, I forgive you. But next time, I’m coming, too. I want to see what’s so great about them!”

9. Mingyu

Mingyu would pout immediately.

“EXO? You went without me?”

He’d lean closer, crossing his arms.

“I thought I was your favorite tall and handsome guy, but I guess I have competition now.”

When Y/N teased him, he’d smile reluctantly.

“Alright, fine. But next time, give me a heads-up, and I’ll get you VIP tickets.”

10. The8

Minghao would be chill but with a hint of sarcasm.

“NCT 127? That’s interesting.”

He’d pause, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“So, did you decide to leave me for them, or was this just a one-time thing?”

When Y/N laughed, he’d smirk.

“Just kidding. But seriously, let me know next time. I’d love to see what caught your attention.”

11. Seungkwan

Seungkwan would act dramatically, his voice a mix of playful annoyance and curiosity.

“P1Harmony? Y/N, you went without me? Are you trying to replace me with them?”

He’d cross his arms and pout, trying to hide his jealousy.

“Next time, tell me and I’ll get you even better seats. No way I’m letting you enjoy a concert without me.”

When Y/N laughs, he’d add,

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but I expect a detailed report on every performance, alright?”

12. Vernon

Vernon would be super laid-back about it.

“Oh, TXT? That’s cool.”

He’d nod and add casually,

“Did you enjoy it? Their music is pretty good. Maybe I’ll check out their concert, too, if you recommend it.”

Then he’d shrug.

“Let’s go together next time. It sounds fun.”

13. Dino

Dino would act like he’s joking, but there’d be a hint of genuine jealousy.

“Ateez? Y/N, are you cheating on me with their maknae line?”

He’d shake his head with mock disappointment.

“I can’t believe this. Do I need to start adding more flips to my choreography to keep your attention?”

When Y/N laughed, he’d grin.

“Alright, fine. But next time, I’m coming with you to make sure you’re still my biggest fan.”

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

chapter two of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. shame that he was just so intriguing.

↬ sfw; wc: 5.8k; cw: mentions of blood; tags: enemies to lovers; gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader

To your pleasant surprise, your detention, as you were informed the next day, would take place that evening with Hagrid. Years ago, you had befriended the gamekeeper through Harry. And though this meant that there was a good chance of going into the dark forest for the detention, you would much rather do that with Hagrid than clean some classroom under Filch’s scrutinizing stare. Only the prospect of spending the evening in the presence of Riddle and Malfoy sent your nerves ablaze as you walked out into the dark school grounds the following evening, your book bag over the shoulder and heading straight towards the little speck of light that was Hagrid’s cabin.

It was a cold November night, and even in your coat, you felt chilly. Your breathing was visible as a curling fog in the air, wandering up into a clear sky that displayed an incredible assortment of stars. As you made a point of following the rules to the tee, you were rarely outside at this our, and you didn't belong to the groups of people who headed up to the Astronomy tower for a fuck or a smoke. Laying somewhere in the Scottish countryside, the castle was far away from any city deserving of the name. The lack of artificial light made the stars shine impossibly bright. It was as if the skies opened their gates as you stilled to look up and admire, they seemed to take up even the corners of the vision as if you yourself hovered in their midst.

In a moment of silly delight at the beauty surrounding you, you blew out a long breath and it swirled above you before fading quickly. With half a mind, you realized how stupid you had to look right now, standing still and gazing upwards. The lack of movement made coldness creep up your body and you shivered, but you were still transfixed.

“Well, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a soggy old place like this?”

You shot around, startled. Riddle and Malfoy were approaching you. The former had spoken and now wore a smile of ridicule. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked like smiling was the last thing he would ever think about. His wary eyes flickered to the great black mass that was the dark forest, then to you with a glare.

Ignoring Riddle’s comment, you accelerated your steps and gripped the handle of your book bag tighter. But still, he was but a few steps behind you, evident by the sound of moist leaves ruffling under his feet. Draco, cursing under his breath, seemed to trail behind him at a short distance. Riddle caught up with you when Hagrid’s hut became clear against the blackness of the trees. You expected him to say something derogatory or mean, so his question surprised you. “Always carrying around a bag of books with ya, around ya, princess?” A teasing smile pulled at his lips, but he didn't seem outwardly aggressive.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself responding to him. “Maybe we need the school stuff for something. In detention I mean.”

“Need?” Riddle mocked your tone and chuckled. “You could always throw it at a werewolf when it jumps at you, I suppose.” Against your will, you found yourself throwing him quick glances. His hands were in his pockets, he'd ditched his cloak and his white shirt shone bright against the dark. With comical precision, you found the inevitable specks of blood at the collar. Riddle seemed fully relaxed at the idea of going into the forest, but that didn't surprise you. Slimy, dark, cold… It probably felt like home to him. You bit your lip at the thought, glad you hadn't said it out loud. Even for a guy like Riddle, it seemed harsh.

“If you want to undress me, no need to only use your eyes.” A lazy grin tugged at his lips as he blew you a kiss and reveled in your flustered reaction. Stupid fuck. Turning scarlet, you stuffed your hands in your pockets with the intent to ignore him for the rest of the night.

Hagrid awaited you in front of his cabin, a crossbow over his shoulder. When you arrived, he greeted you cheerfully but regarded Malfoy and Riddle with a resentful frown. Upon hearing your voice, Fang came running from behind the hut, wagging his tail and barking excitedly at the familiar face. You crouched down and ignored how wetness seeped through your clothes to scratch the dog behind his ear and let him lap at your face. The remaining dog slobber, you brushed away with your sleeve.

“You lot will be helping me out tonight,” Hagrid announced as you stood up, Fang still glued to your leg and wagging his tail. A soft thumping sounded through the cool night air when it hit the ground in rapid succession. “We are taking a look at the plant population of one grata insidia today, whether they've been affected by the cold weather, since this is the first season they're growing here. You should know how they look from your herbology class.” Right. You remembered the plant. A blue, phosphorescent flower with flowing leaves that could ensnare flies in an instance.

“When you found some,” Hagrid continued, “You sketch ‘em. Make sure you get the leaves in detail, they're the most important part. Don't make light with your wands, though, they might retract.” Clearing his throat, he looked around at the three of you. You noticed he looked away from Riddle quickly and were reminded of the fact that he had known his father before he had shed his mortal parts. Then, you, shaking like a leaf, and Malfoy. As you glanced at the latter, you noticed he was even paler than usual and looked a little green around the nose, as if he was about to throw up. Reminded of the last time he'd had detention in the dark forest, you hid your grin in your scarf.

Hagrid seemed to remember the encounter as well. “We're pairing up in two’s. Malfoy, you're with me,” he grumbled, “after last time. Except-” He glanced at you worriedly, as if he'd just concluded what that would entail for you. “I mean… if it's alright with you?” Smiling at the guilty look on his face, you nodded into your scarf. Though his large face was still etched with concern, Hagrid scowled as he looked at Riddle, and it seemed to cost him a lot of willpower. “Don't try anything funny, or you'll be in real trouble.” Riddle answered mit no more than a derogative glare, quite unlike the teasing grins he threw at you when Hagrid turned away.

You had noticed before how scowling, sinister Mattheo Riddle would be much more, for lack of a better term, cheerful around you. More at ease, maybe. He probably didn't even see you as a person and therefore felt relaxed enough to subject you to an endless stream of those mocking smiles that didn't deserve to be nearly as attractive as they were. Objectively, of course. Now, as you looked at him, he met your gaze and the scowl was exchanged for a smirk. “Looks like your bag'll come in handy, princess.”

“Told you,” you muttered as Hagrid told Fang to stay by his side, still throwing suspicious looks at Riddle. He announced what parts of the forest you would cover and when to return. Then, it was off into the dark.

The trees seemed to engulf you the moment you set foot in their midst, they swallowed all light, even shielded you from the stars. You couldn't even see your own hands as you carefully felt your surroundings. Behind you, Mattheo ignited his wand and you shot around. “We- we’re not supposed to do that!” you hissed at him but he only raised his brows at you. “The plant retracts when there's light,” you reminded him, knowing he was fully aware.

“If you want to stumble around the dark, be my guest,” he said dryly. “But you looked like an idiot there and also pretty tasty to all sorts of predators.” You didn't like his smile. But as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. If you trotted blindly into the most monster infested forest in Great Britain, you'd not come back in one piece. A problem such as that didn't occur to a half giant like Hagrid, of course, but you… An idea plopped into your head and you turned back to Mattheo, who seemed to have been watching your silent contemplation with mild interest.

“If it's so important to you,” you said, “cast a patronus. The light is dimmer and it can lead the way.” You thought it was a good idea that united both your interests, but Mattheo suddenly looked at you as he'd never looked before. A dark, dangerous look in his eyes that you'd only witnessed from afar. The cold glare was menacing and it had cold shivers run down your spine.

Mattheo looked into your widened eyes and enjoyed the fear on your face. Hopefully, you would be too scared to ask again. You didn't, but it was worse. Your eyes widened even further before you quickly averted them, shuffled away from him and cast your patronus yourself. A lean cat that glanced at him grumpily, then disappeared into the dark with you hot on its heels. You were just running into the dark, wand somewhere in your pocket. Did you not have a single survival instinct in your body? For a moment, he considered just letting you run off and having a laugh about iu. But alas, with a groan of annoyance, Mattheo followed suit.

Though your path was now illuminated by the soft blue light of your animagus, in your haste, you still tripped over roots and got scratches from thorny branches and bushes. You were somewhat relieved to hear footsteps behind you. Upon his arrival, your patronus slowed down a pace until Riddle had caught up with you. You walked in silence and you pulled your cloak tighter around yourself in a feeble attempt to banish the coldness that had seeped down into your bones. Next to you, Riddle sauntered on with an unreadable expression, wand lazily at his side. Other than you, who kept glancing behind bushes and into the undergrowth, he didn't seem remotely interested in finding the damn flower. Not that you felt any excitement to find some flower and sketch it, but perhaps you felt the need to show your moral superiority.

After a few awkward minutes of walking in silence, you finally spotted a faint glow against a tree. Without a word to your silent companion, you accelerated your steps and made a beeline towards the tree, your coat getting caught in a thorny bush and you ripped it away. It was the right one. You knew the second you rounded the tree. A blue hue painted its surroundings in a ghostly cold color. When Riddle joined you with an expression of all this being beneath him, you had already crouched down and pulled out parchment and pencil. Then, you hesitated and looked up at him. You were a lousy sketcher.

Riddle rolled his eyes and took the parchment from you, mumbling something under his breath. As he kneeled down onto the ground and started his sketch, he threw you a sharp look. “Since you can't even draw, would you kindly look out for giant spiders or something?” He was tense, but you weren't sure that was because you were in here or because of the patronus thing. By his aggressive reaction, you had a pretty clear suspicion that he couldn't conjure a patronus. Surely not for lack of trying, though. Before he could snap at you, you turned away and glanced into the dark, aided by your patronus, without really seeing anything.

After a few minutes of this, you noticed you'd started creeping closer to Riddle without even noticing. In the dim light of the flowers, you were able to glance over his shoulder at the parchment, and your jaw dropped. It was good. He'd managed to sketch a damn near perfect replica of the flower, including shades and careful weighting of pencil pressure. You watched his hands work as he frowned in concentration. Long, elegant strokes were interrupted by sharp, repeated patterns. Though you didn't know anything about sketching, you were pretty sure he was amazing.

A sound of surprise left your throat and Riddle’s hand you had been studying intently stilled its movement. He raised his brows at you and you bit down on your cheek. Stupid. “Uhm,” you said, suddenly nervous, but no longer afraid. Seeing him draw made him somewhat human. You'd never even considered Mattheo Riddle could have interests and skills beyond the dark arts. Like normal people. “That… looks good, I- I mean-” You felt thankful for the darkness, “it's really beautiful, I didn't know you were so good at this.” Of course you didn't. You were such an idiot.

Riddle looked somewhat taken aback, but quickly resumed his sketching. His lack of an answer made you step from one foot to the other and you fiddled at your wand. But you couldn't help yourself, you simply had to turn back around and watch his moving hands. It was a graceful motion, which was not an adjective you'd ever thought you'd apply to Mattheo Riddle.

“Thank you.”

You did a double take. Surely, you had to have misheard, or a trickster spirit had messed with your senses. Riddle gave no indication wether he'd actually thanked you, but got to his feet and threw the parchment at you. When you rolled it up and studied the drawing, you realized just how detailed it was. How he had somehow managed to translate its glow onto the parchment. With a clearing of your throat, you put it in your back and looked up at him. Riddle was already looking, studying you closely, as if he was trying to measure your reaction. Giving him an instinctive, nervous smile, you crooked your head towards the black wall of trees. “Should we…?”

With a nod, Riddle stepped into the undergrowth and you followed behind. Small animals crossed your path, and you were thankful they weren't bigger. Somehow, Riddle seemed to have much less trouble getting past bushes and overgrown trees than you, and you wondered wether he was using a spell on himself or on you. Just when you violently ripped at your sleeve, stuck in a thorn bush, he spoke up and you froze. His tone was conversational, but there was a teasing edge to it, like he wanted to test you. “So, what would your parents say when they found out you were alone in the dark forest with Mattheo Riddle?”

You shrugged, even though he couldn't see that. “Nothing, probably.” With a few long strides, you managed to catch up with him and now, the spell that he had cast around himself seemed to apply to you as well. At least you got through the undergrowth way more smoothly. Mattheo didn't know if you were joking, but when you cast him a side glance, he didn't need legilimancy to know you were telling the truth.

“Huh?” he said and you frowned, as if he was supposed to know. You didn't answer at first, taking the lead as if you wanted to escape his eyes. Curious that you chose to do that by turning your back on him. Then, you spoke into the impenetrable darkness before you. “They're muggles. If I told them I was going into a dark forest with a Mattheo Riddle, well…” you seemed to smile, he could hear it in your voice, “My mum would tell me to use protection and my dad would get his club.”

So you were a muggleborn. He didn't know why that surprised him so much. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure Draco had mentioned it once, but he hadn't cared enough to remember. When he didn't say anything, you seemed to feel obligated to break the silence. “Funny, huh? If I told them your name, it wouldn't mean anything to them.” That thought was funny. Mattheo was a little shocked at how much he liked it. It just now occurred to him that there was a giant mass of people that had no idea of his parentage, his legacy. That would just see him as a normal guy, nothing special there. If he'd known anyone who knew anything about muggles, he'd considered asking what kind of jobs they had available.

“Yeah,” he said after a short silence and you tried to grasp his reaction to the news. Though you'd never heard Riddle say something hateful at muggleborns since second grade, you gripped your wand a little tighter. You'd thought he knew, and that was why he loved to annoy you. Would the news change how he saw you? And, more importantly, why did you care? “Your friends weren't stoked though, were they?” he asked and pulled you out of your thoughts.

Biting down on your lip, the truth just sort of slipped past them. “I … didn't tell them.” In your peripheral vision, you caught him raise his head subtly but you stared straight ahead. “They're protective,” you explained, as if you had to justify yourself before him.

“Yeah, I saw that yesterday,” Riddle snorted and rummaged in his pockets for something. “Weasley went mental, just his bad luck that he doesn't have anything to back the attitude up."

“What?” Your head shot around so fast you thought you heard something crack in your neck. That was not in alignment with the story you'd heard. Then again, you didn't put it past your friends to lie to you to protect your feelings.

“They didn't tell you, did they?” asked Riddle mockingly and you could practically hear his smirk seeping through his poisonous tone.

“Tell me what?” you inquired, frowning at him. Riddle had found what he was looking for and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his robes. He took his time with the answer as he twirled it between his fingers and lighted it with a bit of wandless magic. After a long drag out of the cigarette, he blew out a cloud of smoke and looked back at you. “Potter and Weasley overheard Nott talking about you."

“Heavens, that whole brawl was my fault?” you entreated anxiously, fisting your robes in one hand as you remembered the bruises on Harry’s face and Ron’s broken bag that he spent the whole evening trying to repair. Guilt gnawed at you at the thought that they'd gotten hurt defending your honor. If you had just been there, you could have stopped them, told them that it was no big deal.

“Your fault?” echoed Riddle incredulously and you shrugged and avoided his gaze. "Well... I mean... I never meant for anyone to get hurt because of me."

“Apology accepted,” he grinned and the audacity made you splutter out an indecipherable response. Riddle chuckled, the cigarette dangling dangerously loosely out of his pink lips. To your surprise, his amusement did have something contagious, because you found yourself grinning against your will. You could only hope the light of your patronus would be dim enough to allow your smile to go unnoticed.

“So,” you asked as your eyes swept the area for other flowers. “What did Nott say to make Ron freak out?” It wasn't so much that you wanted to know, more so that you wanted to keep the conversation going. Riddle was less terrifying when he didn't just stare menacingly. He took his time to answer and twirled the cigarette through his fingers. Then, a teasing smile tugged at his lips, though his voice was free of malice. “Don't know if you can take it, princess.”

Defiance welled up in you and you shoved your hands into your pockets. “Believe me, I can. There is nothing you could say that I didn't already think of myself." It came out a little more bitter than you'd planned, so you concealed the hard undertone with a little laugh. Riddle didn't react, so you walked on in silence for a few minutes. When he hadn't said anything in a while, you considered changing the topic, but that was when he finally spoke up. “He called you a walking encyclopedia nobody asked for and, that you probably get up early to polish prefect patches."

You had expected way worse and chuckled to yourself. “That's pretty creative.”

“You don't seem offended,” Riddle said. It was not a question, it was a statement.

“I do polish my prefect patch sometimes,” you shrugged with an embarrassed grin. You were astounded how easy it was to talk to him all of the sudden. "I just don't get why Ron got so worked up on that."

Riddle’s lip curled slightly. “Nott may have said some other things, didn't really listen." After another few seconds of silence, he discarded his cigarette and changed the topic to light hearted teasing. “So, tell me, do Gryffindors practice being so annoyingly righteous, or is it just instinct?” If it hadn't been Riddle, you'd have almost mistaken his tone for a flirting one.

“Oh, we practice,” you replied. “Right after the lesson on how to tolerate Slytherins.” In the dark, you somehow felt more confident. Riddle seemed more human, more approachable, so far away from the castle, from your friends, from anyone. You realized you had been burning to finally engage with his little games instead of attempting to ignore them and letting him have all the fun. At the same time, his teasing seemed more conversational than mean tonight. “Why are you being so nice?” you asked into the silence without looking at him. “It's weird.”

“Would you rather I be mean?” asked Riddle. “Because I can go back to that if it makes you feel better.” Maybe it would. You felt almost guilty at the prospect of going back to Gryffindor tower and telling your friends, who probably had found out about the detention through Ginny by now, that it hadn't been that bad spending the evening with you-know-who’s son. But still, you answered: “No. it's okay.”

“Tell me something, will you?” He'd stopped walking and you hesitated, turning back around to face him. The dim light of your patronus left part of his face shrouded in darkness, but his eyes glinted and they were locked on you. His dark locks were moved in the wind like sea grass, but even still, the cold didn't seem to affect him one bit. His voice was soft, unnaturally smooth, perfectly balanced to slip past your walls and your lies. Not for the first time, you felt as if he could read your mind. Helplessly, you nodded, and a shiver ran through you when a gush of wind caused the dead leaves to dance around you.

“Are you scared of me?”

The question caught you off guard and you had to take your time to think about the answer. Up at the castle, you were scared of him, at least intimidated, and preferred to keep your distance. In here, alone with him, however, you felt no fear, only intrigue. To say you weren't afraid of him would be a lie, but its counterpart as well. Your eyes flickered down to his hands, his wand. No doubt he'd detected it, Riddle was awfully good at picking up on the slightest movements. As if he was trying to test your reaction, daring you to flinch back, he took a step closer to you.

“A bit,” you confessed truthfully, but you didn't step back. In fact, you dared to shuffle a bit towards him, so that only few inches separated the two of you. “You have to admit you're pretty intimidating, Riddle.”

“Am I?” A predatory grin adorned his face and he inched closer in an effort to find it. The barrier you wouldn't dare to cross. The point when you'd turn away or avert your eyes. Somehow, you managed to work up the courage to do neither. You lifted your chin and stared into his dark brown eyes defiantly. His grin widened and pleasant surprise and he hummed under his breath. “Are you intimidated right now, princess?” Somehow, you couldn't lie. Maybe because you guessed he would know, or could hear your thundering heartbeat.

“A little.”

When he’d first spotted you at the sorting ceremony, he'd thought you looked pathetic, trembling and glancing around nervously. When you had snapped at him in fourth grade, he'd noted you down as an annoying up-tight brat with more bark than bite. In fifth grade, he'd started to see you as a stupid little fangirl of Potter’s. Then, when you were sixteen, you were just some easy to rile up teacher's pet. Seventh grade had only worsened that condition. But Mattheo had never noticed that you looked… pretty. Too busy hating you, he'd never looked twice. But now, he found himself drinking you in.

Your patronus illuminated half of your face, slightly quivering lips, adorably furrowed brows. But your eyes were the most mesmerizing part, which was something he never expected to think about anyone. You looked him straight in the eye when admitting your weakness, as if it were a strength, as if your weaknesses and fears didn't need to be hidden. It was infuriating, he realized. Immediately, he regretted noticing these things about you. This had gone too far, and he'd been too intrigued by you to stop the situation from escalating.

Mattheo had meant for you to be his plaything for the evening. It was him who was supposed to be holding the cards and play you, but now, it felt like you were an active player yourself. For some reason, he even felt slightly disarmed, as if you'd gotten one over at him. But by doing what? Admitting defeat? Abruptly, he stepped back and turned away. “Let's find that stupid half-giant, I've got enough of walking around this fucking forest aimlessly.”

You were a little shocked by his sudden change of mood and didn't speak up again until you emerged from the trees and spotted Hagrid and Malfoy. Both looked disgruntled and the latter had leaves and twigs all over his robes and in his hair. You realized you probably didn't look any better. Riddle, on the other hand, was free of any forest remnants somehow. With a sinister glare, he stepped over to Hagrid with long strides, so you had to hurry after him.

“Oh, there she is!” greeted Ron’s voice when you slipped through the portrait hole twenty minutes later, exhausted and out of breath and not very excited at the prospect of finishing your homework for the day. Your friends were huddled around the fire, looking both worried, amused and angry. You had been right, they had been informed of your detention- and the nature of it. Without a reply, you plopped into the seat next to Hermoine’s with a groan and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your chin upon your knees. Finally, you were warmed up by the common room fire and the chilling cold of the grounds seeped out of your bones.

“Didn't think we would get you back in one leave,” Harry muttered darkly and scanned you up and down. “You look like you were just chased by an acromantula straight through the forest.” Leaning over in his seat, he plucked a few twigs and leafs out of your hair to throw them into the fire. You let him and sighed. “Ginny told you, huh?”

“Neville did, actually,” Hermoine said, somewhat accusatory. “What were you thinking, attacking Malfoy in the hallway?” You looked at her. Neville seemed to have left out the part about her, and you weren't keen on telling her what Malfoy had said either, so you only shrugged.

“I think it's cool,” grinned Ron, who seemed the most relaxed out of all of them. “And look, she's back. Told you guys Hagrid wouldn't let her go off into the dark forest alone with Riddle.”

“Actually, I did,” you corrected him and immediately came to regret it. Hermoine's eyes widened, Harry asked “what?” sharply and Ron shot up from his seat. “Blimey, is he mental? Imagine what he could have done to you in there. Honestly, I figure you're lucky you made it out of there.” Their concern was touching, and it was so genuine you felt the need to reassure them. “It wasn't all that bad,” you attempted to calm Ron who was running his hands through his ginger hair in silent outrage. “He didn't do anything, didn't even know I was a muggleborn apparently.”

“You told him you were a muggleborn when you were alone in the dark forest with him?” Hermoine asked incredulously and you shrugged. For some reason, you were staring to feel bad, as if you'd wronged them somehow. Their reaction was sweet, but also overbearing. Harry fist-fought Riddle every other week, why couldn't you have a talk with him in the dark forest?

Hermoine soon announced she was going to bed and the two boys soon followed, bidding you goodnight. When they'd gone, you threw another piece of wood into the fire place to illuminate the room some more and got out your transfiguration books. After yesterday's disgraceful fiasco with McGonnagall, you were determined to get back in her good grades. The thought of stepping into her classroom tomorrow with nothing but her disappointment looming over you was awful, so you decided to work on some extra class work to submit and hopefully appease her. But you just could not concentrate.

No matter how hard you tried, your head was filled to the brim with memories of the hours in the forest. Riddle's voice echoed through your tired mind, his strange mood shift. The way he'd sketched that flower and worked with such concentration, but also the way he'd closed off when you mention patroni. When you started writing about flowers instead of rabbits in your essay, you finally gave up. But you knew you weren't about to get any sleep this way. Your thoughts were too loud for your brain, so you needed to drown them out.

A good ten minutes later, you hurried along a corridor and down the stairs to the dungeons. Your footsteps echoed louder the deeper you got, and the walls you sought out for balance became moister and colder. Only the faint glow of the lamps on the walls provided you with enough illumination to avoid tripping and breaking your neck. At the same time, you were glancing around in a constant anxiety that Filch or Mrs Norris would turn up at the next level. You had sneaked down to the kitchens before to bake something and relieve some stress, especially when exams rolled around, but you'd never done it after curfew. It seemed like today was a day for first times.

You tried to make as little noise as possible and not let yourself be scared off by the ghostly shadows on the walls, flickering like the flames that cast them. Finally, you had reached the second lowest level and scurried up another corridor. Being this far under the earth was never a pleasant experience, you shivered at the thought that the Slytherins had to sleep down here. Finally, you reached the painting of the laughing pineapple, your heart racing in your chest. Expertly, you tickled the fruit and it giggled and opened to reveal the kitchens.

It was strange to be here at night, but the quiet was welcome. You found some candles in a cupboard, ignited them and cast a spell on them to make them float above you as you got out all the necessary ingredients and equipment to make chocolate chip muffins. As you mixed the flour and sugar in a bowl, you finally felt some of the tension leave your body. The quiet, the working with your own hands and the solitude managed to do what homework hadn't: finally draw your thoughts away from Mattheo Riddle. Humming to yourself, you kneaded the batter and filled muffin cups with it. When you'd finished with the last touches, you put them in the oven, cleaned your working area and sat down on one of the desks.

Now that your head was pleasantly silent, you felt tired. It had been a nerve-wracking day. You watched the candles float, glanced at the oven from time to time and waited, occupied with nothing. Your fingers drew small circles on the desk as your eyelids started to drop. But you shot up at once when there was a loud bang and the entrance sprung open with such force the painting’s handles creaked dangerously- and there he stood.

Mattheo Riddle stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling in uneven, ragged breaths, knuckles still stained with the dark red of drying blood. His brown hair was a chaotic mess, wild curls fell into his stormy eyes, which burned with some unspoken rage- or perhaps mere adrenaline. The candlelight of the room flickered across him, illuminating the sharp contrast of the crimson streaks marring his jawline and collar. His shirt was rumpled and torn at the hem, blood smudged along the fabric as though he'd wiped his hands there in a haste. He looked slightly feral, yet oddly composed, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips when his eyes landed on you.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice low and edged with amusement as he stepped into the room, boots heavy on the flagstone floor. His gaze roamed over your sitting figure, taking in your startled expression, the nightdress you'd thrown on prematurely and now regretted even owning as it made you feel utterly exposed and vulnerable under his heated stare.

“Didn't think I'd have company tonight.” He swiped a hand through his hair, smearing the blood further, the act almost calculated in its casualness. His lips quirked into a crooked grin, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s wrong, princess? Can't deal with a little blood?” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but his eyes lingered on you a moment too long, as though he were trying to decide what to make of you- or what you might make of him. Your alarm rang, but neither of you averted your eyes from one another. Finally, you raised your voice, but it was but a timid mumbling. The strange sense of security of the forest had left you.

“Would you like a muffin?”

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123

[yama13]

TW// Faucest, minors dni

Satoru x reader

You didn't know how you ended up here, with your legs dangling by Satoru's ears, dancing with every harsh thrust. Your pussy ended up clenching with every dirty word that slips from Satoru's lips with your wrists laying next to your ears, forcing you to see the taboo words as they slip past Satoru's lips.

“You feel so good clenching around your brother’s cock” he hissed with his tongue in your ear and his balls slapping your clit.

You supposed it was due to a month ago when this drunken girl hung around Satoru in a pathetic, depressing way around the bar. She ignored you, and Satoru's hand around your waist, giggling obnoxiously that started bothering after five minutes of her. You empathized with her, you really did. You were once that drunken girl in a bar so many nights ago before you found Satoru. But even then you at least knew not to go after another girl's man.

"So... is he like, your brother?"

You were alone cursing your boyfriend's bladder for leaving you alone with this girl who seriously asked you, if the guy whose hand was basically on top of your ass, is your brother?

"Uh-"

"Cause he's like seriously cute. You wouldn't mind putting in a good word for me right? I think he likes me-"

"Hey! Everything okay?" your boyfriend asked. Returning to your side, sliding his palm against yours.

"Oh yeah! I was just telling your sister here how I-"

Your neck grew hot at the word, trying to ignore the anger at this stranger for making you feel so small. You lunged forward towards Satoru. Practically shoving your tongue inside his mouth. A surprised gasp left his lips and his hand squeezed yours once he felt you tug at the loop of his pants, slotting his leg between yours.

The two of you continued to swap saliva and you reluctantly pulled away but not before pressing a quick peck to his swollen lips.

"Yeah, we were talking about how a great big brother you are!"

You didn't have time to look in her direction. Satoru was pulling you away, the blur of bodies and the heat of the bar was replaced with the cold air. He pulled you into an alleyway tugging your panties down and shoving his cock inside of you. You're sure you heard the sounds of someone giggling in the distance but you ignored it when Satoru's hand's wrapped around your throat.

It happened more after that.

At a coffee shop, or in the Costco line, the two of you would act like the perfect couple. Hands dangling, forehead kisses, and a quick peck followed by a loud "you're the best sister" or a "my brother is so sexy" Making the people around you uncomfortable pulled a laugh from you but it always ended with you bent over the hood of your car, or in the bathroom with Satoru panting next to your ear.

It was just a joke to you. One that ended with you getting laid and the genesis of your exhibitionist kink. But to Satoru, it was the birth of a more taboo kink.

"Come on, say who's fucking you this good."

"Nghh...Perv- Pervert!" you gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your cheek was squished against the pillow, the headboard leaving a Thump, Thump, Thump and your ah, ah, ah's muffled against the sheets. You can't believe that this joke was actually turning him on.

"Shhh!" Satoru hisses, his tongue in your ear and his body hunched over yours. His hips rotated in a slow tantalizing way, making your pussy squeeze around his cock. His fingers slide down your body, cupping your pussy and his fingers played with your clit.

"You wouldn't want mom or dad to catch their son and daughter in bed together... would you?"

He pulled his hips back, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. You felt like a bitch underneath your boyfriend. The two hunched over like wild animals, grunting and whining with every slow drag of his cock. It was animalistic and dirty and you couldn't help but push yourself back wanting more. His words were turning you on and your shame was evaporating, your pussy demanding more.

"What would they say? That's, your sis- sister! You're her older brother" You squeezed around Satoru's cock at the name. Sister, Brother. Holy shit you were enjoying this. His hips sped up, and you can feel your bro-boyfriend's cock deep in your guts.

"I'm sorry Mom! But nghh she felt so good! Her pussy feels amazing. I can't. Stop. Fucking. My Siter!"

He panted next to your eyes. His body lay on top of yours, his hips humping inside of you. God, you were so close.

"Who's making you feel this good? Be a good sister and tell your bro-"

"My brother!" You squealed, your pussy squirting around him. "My brother is making his sister feel so good!" You cum around him, bucking your hips back trying to get his cum inside you,

"That's a good little sister." He leaves a smack to your ass, flipping you on to your back and shoving his cock back in, buying into you.

"Now let me put a baby inside my sister yeah"

You smiled up at Satoru, not caring that the neighbors could hear your moans of I love my brother. You're lucky that you were a pervert as well.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

born from another timeline - jayce, viktor

summary; "viktor, wake up, hexcore just dropped a hot person" - jayce, probably

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, comedy, maybe some angst, is this considered isekai /j, amnesia?, zauntie! reader, different timeline! reader, the almost too good to be to be true timeline, hexcore knows everything, magic curses, can be seen as romantic or platonic, half baked ending, im sorry this can seen as ambiguous ending

word count; 1.3k

a/n; it's time for some silly silly writing. im changing up some of the request to be a little more interesting. im not great at interpreting long requests like this bc they can be a lot for me, and sometimes, with requesting in excitement, they can have some parts that dont make sense. but i still hope it's enjoyable. also i have no idea if my addition to this request made sense but i was too committed so. enjoy :)

you don't remember a fucking thing. all you know is that something called a hexcore spit you out, and now you're floating in the air with two really hot people. and you're undoubtedly panicking, and they're panicking too.

generally, a lot of panic.

when you finally manage to stop floating, the situation settles a little bit. at least for the two men that were floating with you.

"how did you get here?" but unfortunately, you had to be questioned. which was reasonable, you would probably do the same.

a yordle creature is trying to question you and your origins, but your mind can't seem to conjure up anything that would be a viable answer. "i.. don't know. but where exactly am i?"

the yordle, heimerdinger, informs you that you are in piltover and introduce you to viktor and jayce as well.

"piltover.. i definitely didn't know that this was piltover because i've never been around there."

"do you remember anything about your home?"

"not much. but i'm from the undercity." you answer. and that leaves the young scientists to ponder why exactly the hexcore brought you here. was it really that powerful to just teleport people from the undercity to piltover?

nothing seemed to be clicking. and so, they decide to escort you back to the dark lanes of the undercity.

but when you reach the bridge, viktor can spot the shine of confusion in your eyes.

"wait.. this is the undercity, right?" you looked over at the glum streets. "but.."

"but what? it always has been like this."

"this isn't.." you head pulses with pain as a memory tries to break through. "the undercity wasn't like this. it was-" before you can even speak about your home, it feels like you have the wind knocked out of you. your breath heaving as you cough near uncontrollably. jayce and viktor are quick to offer a hand to help you. jayce holds you steady, and viktor offers a hesitant but gentle hand. "it wasn't like this.." you can only mutter as another cough tickles your throat, threatening to come out. it doesn't take long for the two men to come up with a different thought instead.

"i don't think you're from our world." viktor said slowly.

"but i'm from runeterra, i live in zaun, i know that much." you get a little defensive. "and i know that, this isn't the zaun i live in."

"i think it's much more different than what v is saying. let's just head back."

viktor should've realized sooner as a zaunite himself. you didn't wear any worn-out dirtied clothing or had that scent of undercity smoke and gasoline that always permeated around the lanes. you were different from the undercity he knew.

with enough convincing to heimerdinger, he agrees to let you stay in piltover, but viktor and jayce would have to be responsible for you. which admittedly feels a little offending as you're not any kind of irresponsible pet or kid, but you wave off the annoyance for a more pressing problem.

"i'm from a different timeline?"

"it sounds crazy, i know." jayce immediately tells you, just seeing the incredulous look on your face. "but it seems like the most logical conclusion. you said you were from runeterra, you were from the undercity, and that the undercity you know doesn't look the way our undercity does."

"it could be entirely possible that you can even be from a different universe in general, ehh... i suppose that would be like a timeline, too." viktor sucked in a breath through his slightly clenched teeth as he tried to wonder over the details of what counted as a universe or timeline.

"the point is, this isn't the runeterra you know. and we don't know how to get you back."

and so you basically had a reset button on your life, now living in a world that was close to yours.. but not quite.

heimerdinger had concluded that there was some sort of magic binding on your memories, not allowing you to speak too much detail of them. and there seemed to be no loopholes for it. you would be stuck like that for an unknown amount of time.

that was concerning, to say the least. but not as concerning as trying to remember that this isn't the world you know. you're not meant to be here. but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't curious about how this world functioned compared to yours.

you were naturally really interested in the hextech. and it seemed like the hexcore was interested in you, it spit you out into here after all.

"do you think the hexcore is the reason i can't talk about my home?" you asked the two scientists as you stared at the core of magic and science.

"it would make sense. in a way. it's the only magic you've been exposed to. and directly in contact with.. obviously." viktor said with matter of fact tone.

it seemed like it was the only somewhat reasonable answer. and there was only one solution to you; live this new life. you don't remember everything that happened in your old life, and even if you did, you'd be coughing up your lungs before you can get a word out about it.

alternate reality and timelines really aren't fun, you realize quickly. you live in this.. new piltover and zaun and it's.. really off-putting. like knowing that everything is fine, but your mind is telling you that there's something just so wrong.

your identity blends in just enough with the support of viktor and jayce. but you don't feel right. viktor easily can sense that feeling of isolation. he understands it too well. it's the face he's seen on multiple zaunites like himself. when they don't know if they really belong in this world.

he tugs you away into his side of the lab as the gentle whirring of the hexcore hums with life, mocking you that you have no way home. jayce had left to pick up some dinner for you three, and you stayed behind for the sole reason of not having anything better to do (and maybe even keep viktor company).

the look in his sharp amber eyes is hesitant before he speaks. "how are you feeling?" he asked within the ambiance of the lab. he doesn't look at you, turning to mindlessly fiddle with his work-in-progress hex claw.

you shrugged halfheartedly with a hum, "i don't know. it just..." you let out a sigh. "it doesn't feel right."

"what doesn't?"

"being here." he lets you continue if you want, stopping his tinkering to look at you. your eyebrows furrow with a frown on your lips. "i don't know. maybe i'm just being delusional."

he pursues his lips, trying to find the right words to say. "i'm sorry we can't find a way back to your home." he said softly. "i can't imagine how it feels like to live in a world so similar but so different from home." he takes your wrist gently to guide you to an empty chair next to him.

you sit down slowly. he looks at your disheartened face.

"i'm not great at comfort like this. jayce would probably do much better than me right now. he gives a great hug." he laughed weakly, trying to lighten the mood. "but i'm not going to sit back and let you be alone on the pain." his eyes swirl with warmth. you can tell he's trying his best to comfort you.

"do you think.. we would ever meet back in my timeline?"

before viktor could answer, the door opens, revealing the golden boy himself.

"i got us some dinner!" his smile oblivious and bright, unware of the heavy air as his presence seems more bright than the setting sun.

you don't feel like you belong in plitover, but you know you belong with viktor and jayce at least.

[writinginatree]

Cared For

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Riorson!reader

Summary: Xaden takes care of you and Bodhi after RSC.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, injuries, nonsexual nudity (showering together), reader has heart problems

You stumble from the interrogation chamber with the rest of your squad, blinking into the late afternoon sunlight as the professor who just finally released you drones on and on. You should be listening, in case he's talking about something important, like having to do this shit again or something, but you can't focus on the words, mindlessly clinging to Bodhi, whose arm is linked with yours so you can help each other stay on your feet.

Well, okay — if you're being honest, it's mostly Bodhi helping you. He's worse for wear too, but still faring decidedly better than you.

You're not sure why it is that they went especially hard on you — because your father had been the Great Betrayer, because they recognized you as the weakest link of your squad, or because you refused to show any pain and they were determined to change that. In the end, it doesn't matter. You didn't break. You survived. That's what you have to focus on. Another one of the stupid trials this cursed place puts you through that you've overcome. One step closer to eventually making it out of here alive.

Finally the professor is done talking and allows you to leave.

The walk back into the quadrant proper passes in a blur, one stumbling step after the other as Bodhi pulls you along. Since he's well aware of your aversion to healers, and since neither of you is that badly hurt, he doesn't bother to suggest going to the infirmary and takes you straight to the dormitories. Your room is closer to the stairs than his, so that's where you go, slumping onto the bed side by side, too exhausted to lift a finger, though you know you need to get cleaned up, or at the very least remove your boots. In a moment, you tell yourself. As soon as the room stops spinning, you'll get up and do it.

Minutes later, a knock sounds on the door, startling your poor, tired heart into doubling the pace of its beating.

"I think Cuir asked Sgaeyl to send us Xaden," Bodhi soothingly murmurs, sitting up and unlocking the door with lesser magic.

Sure enough it's your brother who enters the room a second later, grimacing at the state he finds the both of you in. "Shit, are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," you and Bodhi mutter, "Sure."

Admittedly, that's a bit of an exaggeration. But okay is a flexible term, and you suppose things could be worse. You know the question was just reflex anyway, and Xaden is perfectly aware that no one is ever truly okay after just getting out of an RSC torture session.

He comes over to the bed, crouching down beside it. You feel shadows stirr underneath and all around you — no doubt Xaden 'subtly' taking inventory of your injuries. You've lost track of what hurts where about an hour into the exercise, your whole body one big ache, but you're pretty sure most of the damage is superficial. It's your heart giving you the most trouble, thanks to having missed this morning's dose of your medication, and simple dehydration.

"Are you feeling strong enough to shower?" Xaden asks.

Bodhi nods, but you hesitate. Getting up the stairs without fainting had been challenge enough, so you roll over to turn a pleading look on your cousin. "Can we go together?"

When Bodhi nods, you nod too, and Xaden helps you to your feet.

"Alright," he says, "you two get cleaned up, and I'll be back with some food and a first-aid kit."

The showers are blessedly empty, and you let yourself plop down on the floor, the cold tiles digging into your bare knees as Bodhi turns on the water, a less than lukewarm spray raining down on you. Cold as you feel, you would have preferred your water steaming hot, but you know that would only make your already too low blood pressure worse, so you don't complain.

Bodhi sits down behind you, takes a handful of soap and gently massages it into your scalp, careful to avoid pulling all the tangles that have formed in your hair from the rough treatment you'd been given.

"You don't have to," you half-heartedly mutter.

In truth, you're not entirely sure you can muster the energy to do it yourself, and with the way you're finally starting to relax under his touch, Bodhi rightfully ignores the protest and continues to help you wash.

By the time you dry off and pull on fresh clothes, you're shivering with cold, but your head is a little clearer, and you don't feel like you'll pass out any second anymore, either.

Xaden is already waiting in your room when you return to it, the soft glow of mage lights illuminating the space since dusk has fallen while you were in the shower. He has brought not only the promised food and first-aid supplies, but also Garrick.

Taking a seat on your bed, you don't bother reminding him that it's illegal for more than three of you to be together; he's doubtlessly well aware of the trouble you'd be in if you're caught, and simply doesn't care because he can tell how much you need the company right now.

You shudder to think that he and Garrick had to go through the same experience last year without anyone to comfort them. Thinking back, you try to remember if you'd noticed any injuries on them around this time of year, but you can't recall. Even if you had noticed, Xaden would have brushed you off with some excuse to stop you from worrying.

The thought makes you frown. You have no doubt they'd been as hard on Xaden as they were on you — probably even harder. It's not fair that he'd had to get through that on his own, that he always has to go through everything alone because he thinks that's what being the one with all the responsibility means. Ever since the apostasy, since he took on that responsibility for all your lives, he never lets himself be weak in front of anyone — even you. Of course you're grateful for everything he's done, is still doing, his care and protection, but you wish he would let himself be taken care of, too, when he needs it.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of these thoughts, and you blink up at him, wondering when you closed your eyes. The plain worry on his face makes your eyes swim with tears, and you tell yourself to pull it together — to no avail.

"They did that to you too last year," you mumble, not quite a question. "You should have let us be there for you."

"First-years aren't allowed to know about RSC," Xaden reminds you, hand on your chin to angle your head sideways so he can get a better look at a scrape on your jaw.

You know that's not the reason he kept it from you, at least not the only one, but you let it go, knowing he just wants your best.

Treating your wounds doesn't take long. Mostly it's bruises — a lot of them, swollen and hot to the touch, decorating you in various shades of red, purple, and blue. There isn't much Xaden and Garrick can do about those, though they diligently smear them with some stinky salve that's supposed to soothe the worst of the ache.

To you it just feels cold and nothing more, but you don't complain. Not about the useless stinky ointment, nor about the burn of disinfectant in your open scrapes and cuts. You're simply too exhausted to do anything but force yourself to stay sitting upright, letting Xaden do whatever he wants. He knows better what you need right now than you do, anyway. You're limp in his hands, letting him turn you this way and that to get at all your wounds, his shadows supporting you when needed.

He pays extra attention to your wrists, the skin there rubbed raw from your fruitless attempts to slip free of the chains they'd put on you in the interrogation chamber. Even through the fog of exhaustion hanging over your mind, you don't miss the sorrow that passes over your brother's face as he takes in the harm you did to yourself. He is uncharacteristically gentle as he bandages your wrists, even going so far as to press a little kiss on top of each, the way your dad used to do when you were little. You tear up again at the action, have to bite your trembling bottom lip to keep from crying.

Done with your wounds, Xaden helps you get comfortable sitting against the wall with a pillow at your back, a soft blanket over your lap and tucked in around your waist. Bodhi already sits next to you much the same way; the comforting warmth of his shoulder against yours helps you ground yourself in the present.

Xaden puts a bowl of soup into your hands, ordering you to eat. It's not quite hot anymore, having stood on the desk while Xaden and Garrick patched you guys up, but still warm enough, and you consider it a bonus that you can't burn your mouth on it anymore.

When you're done, Garrick takes the empty bowls and leaves, but Xaden remains.

"I guess we'd better get you two to sleep," he says. "You've had a long day."

"Can Bodhi sleep here tonight?"

"Does Bodhi want to sleep here?" Xaden counters, looking to your cousin for answer.

To your relief, he agrees. You're not sure you could stand being alone right now, with the memory of today's torture still so fresh in your mind and the lingering dizziness you can't seem to shake.

"Okay," Xaden nods. "Then he can."

After tucking the both of you into bed, Xaden turns to leave. Before you can think better of it, you reach for his hand, silently pleading with him to stay a little longer. He sinks back to the floor beside the bed, brushing a hand over your face in an attempt to get you to close your eyes.

"Sleep. I'm here."

Bodhi moves closer — at this point he's practically lying on top of you — and butts his head against Xaden's hand with a little whine. Your brother gets the hint, and starts to pet Bodhi's hair, his other hand still gripped tight in yours. He doesn't need to have his hands free to make you close your eyes again — a soft layer of shadows descends on your face like a blanket, leaving you in complete darkness. It should be unsettling, but somehow, it isn't. Encased in the safety of your brother's shadow, you can finally keep your eyes shut and actually try to fall asleep.

Which is easier said then done, despite your exhaustion. While your body is fully ready to shut down, your mind won't stop racing. Bodhi is having the same problem, if the way you feel him fidget is any indication.

Xaden starts softly humming, and after a moment, you recognize the melody as an old Tyrrish lullaby. It had been your favorite one as a child, but after all these years, you'd almost forgotten it. Now the words come back to you like magic, even if Xaden doesn't sing them.

Trying to remember the song text and sing along in your mind gives you something to focus on other than the day's events; your racing thoughts can finally settle down. Slowly the tension leaves your body and your breathing evens out as sleep descents over you.

But just as you finally drift into that calm drowsy state, your heart skips a beat and you jolt wide awake again.

Xaden is quick to soothe you. The shadow over your face disappears, replaced by others that gently hold you so you don't startle Bodhi by sitting up. Xaden gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, more shadows caressing your face as he murmurs, "Shh, you're okay."

You slowly relax again, nuzzling your face into Bodhi's shoulder and mirroring his slow, deep breathing. Xaden starts to hum the lullaby again.

He stays until he is sure both of you are fast asleep, then he gently removes your hand from his, placing it in Bodhi's instead, and slips into the hall.

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (the future)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: eyes of the realm

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was alive with revelry, the floor filled with dancers as the music swelled to joyous heights. Lords and ladies clapped in rhythm, their faces aglow with celebration. At the center of it all, the newlywed couples—Rhaenyra and Laenor, you and Jason—moved gracefully, the splendor of the occasion reaching its peak.

Jason’s green eyes rarely left you as you danced together, his hand firm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly across the floor. His smile was unguarded, a mix of pride and affection, and though the room was crowded, he made you feel as if it were just the two of you.

“I think I’ve surprised a few here tonight,” Jason murmured, his tone light.

You tilted your head slightly toward him, your serene smile unchanging. “Surprised them how?”

Jason leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. “By being the one to marry you. Half of them thought I’d never wed, let alone win the favor of a Targaryen princess.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light as a breeze. “Perhaps they underestimated you.”

Jason smirked, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Perhaps.”

Before you could respond, a sudden commotion rippled through the hall. The doors to the Great Hall swung open with a resounding clang, drawing every eye toward the entrance. The musicians faltered, their melody dying mid-note, and the dancers stilled as a figure stepped through the threshold.

Daemon Targaryen.

The Rogue Prince strode into the hall as if he owned it. Dressed in black leather with accents of deep crimson, his presence was like a dark specter that descended upon the jubilant atmosphere of the wedding feast. His dark violet, piercing eyes swept over the room, his expression unreadable but for the slight curl of his lips—a smirk that sent a shiver through the crowd.

Gasps and murmurs filled the air as he made his way toward the center of the hall, his boots clicking against the stone floor. The dread was visible, the once-lively celebration frozen under the weight of his unexpected arrival.

Jason’s grip on you tightened protectively as Daemon’s gaze locked onto him. The Rogue Prince stopped just short of the two of you, his smirk deepening as he addressed Jason directly.

“So,” Daemon drawled, his voice carrying effortlessly through the silence. “It’s true. My little star has been given to a Lannister.” His tone dripped with disdain, his eyes narrowing as they raked over Jason. “And not just any Lannister… but you.”

Jason straightened, his green eyes meeting Daemon’s without flinching. “Prince Daemon,” he said, his tone respectful but firm. “I wasn’t aware you’d be attending.”

Daemon ignored the remark, taking a step closer. “When I heard the news, I wanted to burn down Casterly Rock and cut off your head.” His words were delivered with a chilling calm, the smirk never leaving his lips. “Imagine my surprise when I learned it was you—Jason Lannister—who dared to take her.”

The hall was deathly silent, the gathered lords and ladies holding their breaths. Even Viserys, seated at the royal table, looked alarmed, though he made no move to interrupt. Alicent leaned in to whisper something to him, her expression tight with worry.

Jason remained composed, though his hand on yours betrayed a hint of anxiety. “I assure you, Prince Daemon, my intentions toward your niece are nothing but honorable.”

“Honorable?” Daemon scoffed, his smirk widening into something more sinister. “You expect me to believe that? She’s barely come of age, and yet here you are, her husband, her protector. Tell me, Jason, what lies did you weave to seduce her into this marriage?”

Before Jason could respond, your voice broke through the exchange, calm and steady. “Uncle.”

Daemon turned his gaze to you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Little star,” he said, the nickname carrying a weight of affection and protectiveness. “Do you even realize what’s been done here?”

You took a step forward, your hand slipping from Jason’s to touch Daemon’s arm gently. “I know exactly what has been done. This was my choice, Uncle, and no one else’s. Jason has treated me with nothing but respect and care.”

Daemon’s eyes searched your face, his smirk faltering. “You’re certain of this?”

“I am,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “You have no need to protect me from him.”

For a moment, Daemon said nothing, his gaze shifting between you and Jason. Finally, he exhaled, stepping back. “Fine,” he said, his tone begrudging. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be far. One misstep, Jason, and you’ll answer to me.”

Jason inclined his head, his expression composed. “Understood, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon glanced at you once more, his gaze lingering with a mixture of affection and unease. Then, with a sharp turn, he strode toward the royal table, taking a seat beside Viserys. The dread in the hall began to ease, though whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

Jason turned to you, his green eyes searching your expression. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, your smile returning. “I am. Thank you.”

Jason exhaled, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he released it. “He’s certainly protective, isn’t he?”

You chuckled softly. “He always has been. But he’ll come around… eventually.”

Jason nodded, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I look forward to it.”

The music resumed, the dancers slowly returning to the floor. Though the celebration continued, the presence of the Rogue Prince remained a shadow over the feast, a reminder that even amidst joy, the tensions of family and power were never far.

The Great Hall buzzed with the lingering energy of the night’s celebration. The music had softened, the dancing slowed, and the crowd began to thin as the time approached for the brides and grooms to retire. A murmur rippled through the gathered lords and ladies as they realized that no traditional bedding ceremony had been called—a decision likely made out of respect for the King and his daughters.

Jason Lannister stood beside you, his hand resting gently on your arm. His eyes swept the room, noting the subtle nods and murmurs of approval as Laenor Velaryon rose from the high table and extended his hand to Rhaenyra. The Princess of Dragonstone accepted with practiced grace, her expression regal but composed. Together, they descended the steps, moving toward the exit as the room watched in quiet expectation.

Jason turned his gaze to you, his expression softening. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You inclined your head, your lilac eyes steady despite their unseeing nature. “Yes, Jason.”

With that, he offered his arm, and you took it, your fingers resting lightly against the fine fabric of his sleeve. The golden lion’s cloak draped over your shoulders shimmered under the flickering torchlight as Jason began to lead you carefully down the steps. The murmurs in the hall grew louder as the lords and ladies turned their attention to the second couple, their whispers a mixture of curiosity and approval.

Jason moved with deliberate care, ensuring each step was steady for you. His green eyes darted briefly to the Lannister table, where his mother dabbed at her eyes once more, and Tyland raised his goblet in silent acknowledgment. A faint smile played at Jason’s lips before he refocused entirely on you.

“You’ve handled tonight beautifully,” Jason murmured as they reached the floor. “Far better than I have, I think.”

You smiled, your voice soft. “You’ve been wonderful, Jason. More than I could have asked for.”

The sincerity in your words made Jason’s heart swell, and he tightened his hold on your arm ever so slightly. The crowd parted before you, their gazes respectful but curious as the Lord of Casterly Rock escorted his new bride from the Great Hall. The weight of the moment was not lost on him—this was no mere formality but the beginning of a union that would reshape the realm.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quieter, the sound of your footsteps accompanied only by the faint rustle of your gown and the distant hum of the city outside. Jason walked at your pace, his demeanor calm and composed, though his heart raced with anticipation.

“Are you nervous?” he asked gently, breaking the silence.

You tilted your head slightly, a faint smile gracing your lips. “Should I be?”

Jason chuckled softly. “Perhaps. I am, a little.”

You turned your face toward him, your smile widening. “I trust you, Jason. There’s no need for nerves.”

His steps faltered briefly at your words, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening. “You honor me, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I’ll do everything I can to deserve that trust.”

The chamber doors loomed ahead, flanked by guards who bowed respectfully as you approached. Jason nodded to them, his grip on your arm steady as he guided you inside. The room was warm and inviting, illuminated by the soft glow of countless candles. The bed, adorned with crimson and gold silks, stood at the center, a symbol of the union now sealed.

Jason paused, turning to face you fully. He reached up to gently remove the golden cloak from your shoulders, folding it carefully and placing it aside. Then, taking your hands in his, he looked at you with an expression of quiet reverence.

“You’re extraordinary,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of you.”

You smiled, your fingers tightening around his. “You already have, Jason.”

Jason’s lips then pressed against yours with a fervor that left no room for doubt or hesitation. The softness of his earlier demeanor gave way to a more primal need, and you met him with equal intensity, your hands threading through his golden hair. The kiss deepened, each breath shared between you igniting a fire that burned away any remaining nerves.

His hands moved to the intricate laces of your gown, deftly undoing them with a surprising tenderness that belied the passion in his kiss. The fabric fell away, pooling at your feet like a silken river. You followed his lead, your fingers fumbling slightly but determined as you worked to undo the fastenings of his doublet. When it finally slipped off, exposing the broad expanse of his chest, your hands roamed instinctively, tracing the planes of muscle and warmth beneath your fingertips.

Jason scooped you into his arms, cradling you as if you were made of something precious and fragile. He carried you to the bed, the silks cool against your bare skin as he laid you down gently. You felt his gaze lingered on you, an expression of awe crossing his features, and sensation of it made your cheeks flush despite the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his voice husky and reverent.

Before you could respond, his lips descended to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that sent shivers racing down your spine. He worshipped every inch of you, his hands exploring with a reverence that made your heart ache. When his hand slipped between your thighs, his touch was gentle yet purposeful, his fingers ensuring that your body was ready to receive him. Your breath hitched, and you instinctively arched into his touch, the unfamiliar sensation stirring something deep within you.

“Hold onto me,” Jason murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your racing thoughts. His weight shifted above you as he positioned himself, one hand braced beside your head and the other guiding himself to you. You obeyed, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as he began to press into you with an excruciating slowness, giving you time to adjust.

The initial discomfort made you tense, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body struggled to accommodate his. Jason stilled immediately, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss that was meant to comfort and distract.

“Breathe, my love,” he whispered against your lips, his voice steady and calm. “I won’t move until you’re ready.”

You clung to him, focusing on the warmth of his body and the gentle kisses he lavished on your skin. Slowly, the sharp edge of the pain began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of fullness and connection. You shifted beneath him experimentally, and the soft sound of approval that escaped his lips sent a spark of confidence through you.

“I’m ready,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jason began to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, as if he feared hurting you. Your bodies found a rhythm, the pain giving way to a pleasure so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, and his low groans filled the air, mingling with the sound of your shared passion.

As the pleasure between you built, his movements became more urgent, his control slipping as his desire overtook him. Your hands roamed his back, your nails raking across his skin as the fire within you burned brighter with each thrust.

“Y/N,” Jason groaned, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re… everything.”

His words were a balm to your soul, and you pulled him closer, your lips capturing his in a kiss that spoke of everything you couldn’t put into words. The world beyond the walls of the chamber ceased to exist; there was only Jason, his body entwined with yours, and the unbreakable bond forged between you in this moment.

Soon, Jason’s rhythm grew more urgent, his control slipping as the intensity of your shared passion built to an unstoppable crescendo. His lips found your neck, brushing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, and his voice was a low, desperate growl. Each thrust drew a whimper from your lips, and his name tumbled out in breathless fragments, a prayer to the man who now held your entire world in his hands.

Your body tightened beneath him as you approached the precipice, your nails digging into the taut muscles of his back. The tension inside you reached its breaking point, and you cried out, your voice trembling with the force of your release. Jason stilled for only a heartbeat as your body pulsed around him, his breath catching in awe at the sight of your bliss. Then, as if your ecstasy had been his undoing, he groaned your name, his movements growing erratic.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice rough, “I… gods, I can’t—”

He buried himself fully inside you, pulling your trembling body closer as his own release overtook him. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in ragged gasps. The weight of him pressing you into the silken sheets was grounding, as though you were the anchor holding him steady even in this moment of unrestrained vulnerability. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the scent of sandalwood and lavender mingling with the unmistakable musk of your union.

Jason remained still for a long moment, as though reluctant to separate from you, before carefully shifting to your side. His arms remained around you, pulling you close as his lips brushed your damp forehead. The golden lion of Casterly Rock, who had conquered countless challenges, now held you with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his voice soft and laced with concern. His hand gently swept over your hair, brushing loose strands from your face as his emerald eyes searched your face for any sign of discomfort. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, a small, blissful smile playing at your lips. “No, Jason. I’m fine. Better than fine.” Your voice was a soft whisper, yet it carried all the warmth of your sincerity. “You were gentle. You were perfect.”

Jason exhaled a breath of relief, his shoulders relaxing as he tightened his hold on you. “You’re certain?” His fingers traced delicate patterns along your bare shoulder, his gaze never leaving your face. “If there’s even the slightest pain…”

“There isn’t,” you interrupted gently, reaching up to touch his cheek. The stubble on his jaw prickled your fingers as you caressed his skin. “You were careful, Jason. You’ve done nothing but take care of me.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, though his eyes remained serious. “I made a promise, Y/N. I intended to keep it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him, a lingering press of your lips that conveyed all the gratitude and affection you couldn’t put into words. When you pulled away, his smile had softened into something radiant.

The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet hum of the city outside muffled by the heavy stone walls. Jason’s fingers continued their soothing exploration of your skin, his touch light and reverent. The warmth of his body against yours, combined with the heady scent of lavender and sandalwood, created a cocoon of safety that you never wanted to leave.

“I never imagined this,” you admitted after a while, your voice barely above a whisper. “That this could feel… so right.”

Jason’s brows furrowed slightly, and he shifted to prop himself on one elbow, looking down at you. “Did you doubt me, my love?” he teased gently, though there was no accusation in his tone.

“No,” you replied with a soft smile. “But I doubted myself. I doubted whether I could ever truly belong to someone—to you—like this.”

His expression grew serious, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet tender, “you’ve always belonged to me, as I belong to you. There’s no doubt in my mind, no hesitation. You are my heart, my light, my everything. Don’t ever doubt your place with me.”

Your throat tightened with emotion at his words, and you nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “I won’t,” you promised. “Not anymore.”

Jason pressed his forehead to yours, the two of you sharing a quiet moment of unspoken understanding. When he finally pulled back, his lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “Though, if I’m being honest,” he said, his tone light, “I’m rather proud of myself. You’ve made me work harder for this than anything in my life.”

You laughed softly, a sound that made his smile widen. “And you succeeded, Lord Lannister,” you teased. “You’ve won.”

Jason’s smile turned into a satisfied smirk as he leaned down to kiss you again, a lingering press of his lips that reignited the embers of passion. “Then let me enjoy my victory a little longer,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and full of promise.

And as his hands began to roam once more, you knew the night was far from over.

The morning light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. The lingering scents from the night before hung in the air, mingling with the faint freshness of the dawn. The sound of soft footsteps echoed faintly outside the chamber doors before a polite knock interrupted the stillness.

Jason stirred first, his arm draped possessively across your waist. He blinked, his green eyes slowly adjusting to the light, before a faint smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at you. Your hair, disheveled and strewn across the pillows, framed your face, and his heart swelled with a tenderness he could scarcely put into words. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before the knock sounded again.

“Come in,” Jason called, his voice still husky with sleep.

The door opened, revealing Marna, her weathered face alight with an air of cheerful efficiency. Beside her was Alys, clutching a folded bundle of fresh linens. Their eyes briefly took in the state of the room—discarded clothing strewn across the floor, the disheveled bedclothes—and a knowing smile played at Marna’s lips.

“Good morning, my lord, my lady,” Marna said warmly, dipping into a respectful curtsey. Alys followed suit, her cheeks tinged pink as she avoided looking directly at the bed. “We’re here to set things in order and assist you both in preparing for breakfast.”

Jason sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and ran a hand through his tousled golden hair. “Thank you,” he replied with a nod. “Though I fear we’ve left you with quite the task.”

Marna chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Nothing we can’t handle, my lord. Young love often leaves a mess behind.”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, and you pulled the sheet higher around yourself as you stirred awake. Jason noticed and placed a reassuring hand over yours. “Good morning, my love,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection.

You smiled sleepily, turning your face toward him. “Good morning, Jason.”

Alys busied herself gathering the discarded garments from the floor, her movements quick and precise. Marna approached the bed, her hands deftly arranging a fresh set of linens on the nearby table. “Shall we draw a bath for you, my lady?” she asked, her tone kind and unobtrusive.

“Yes, please,” you replied, your voice soft. “And thank you, Marna.”

“Of course, princess,” Marna said, her smile widening. She gestured to Alys, who nodded and disappeared through a side door to prepare the bath.

Jason stood, wrapping a robe around himself before crossing the room to help you rise. He extended a hand, and you accepted it, letting him guide you to your feet. The cool stone floor sent a slight shiver through you, but Jason was quick to steady you, his hand warm and reassuring against your back.

“You’re more attentive than I deserve,” you teased lightly, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Jason smirked. “Nonsense. You deserve far more than I could ever give.”

Marna worked efficiently, stripping the bed of its used linens and replacing them with fresh ones. As she fluffed the pillows, she glanced over her shoulder with a sly grin. “It seems you’ve had a good start to your marriage, if I may say so.”

Jason chuckled, his eyes glinting with humor. “I’d say so, Marna. Though the credit lies entirely with my lady wife.”

You flushed again, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jason.”

A soft knock on the side door signaled Alys’s return. “The bath is ready, princess,” she said, her voice quiet but cheerful.

Marna stepped aside, gesturing toward the adjoining chamber. “Go on, my lady. We’ll have everything tidied up here before you return.”

Jason placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you toward the bathing chamber. “I’ll join you shortly,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “Don’t take too long, or I might come in after you.”

You laughed softly, stepping into the warm, steamy air of the bathing room. Alys stood by the large tub, her hands clasped in front of her, ready to assist. Jason lingered at the doorway, watching you with a fond expression before returning to the main room to allow you your privacy.

Marna waited until the door closed behind you before turning to Jason. “She’s a gem, my lord,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “You’ve been blessed.”

Jason nodded, his expression softening. “I know, Marna. She’s everything I could have hoped for—and more.”

The older woman smiled knowingly, her hands deftly folding the used linens. “Then take care of her, my lord. She deserves nothing less.”

Jason met her gaze, his jaw firm with determination. “I will. You have my word.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as the servants worked, and Jason busied himself dressing for the day. When you finally emerged from the bathing chamber, wrapped in a soft robe, Jason was waiting for you, his hand extended once more. Together, you prepared for the day ahead, the bond between you stronger than ever as you faced the world as husband and wife.

The Great Hall was already filled with chatter when you and Jason entered, the low murmur of voices punctuated by the clatter of dishes and the occasional laugh. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, catching the banners of House Targaryen that hung from the rafters. The lingering scents of roasted meats and fresh bread mingled with the faint perfume of lavender that still clung to you.

Ser Lorent Marbrand followed a few paces behind, his silent presence reassuring. Jason’s hand rested on yours as he guided you forward with a subtle confidence that betrayed his pride. His eyes swept the room, noting the presence of the King and Queen at the high table, alongside Rhaenyra and Laenor, who already looked composed and perfectly at ease. Jason chuckled softly under his breath, leaning closer to you.

“I’d wager their night was far less eventful than ours,” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet amusement.

You turned your head slightly toward him, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Jason,” you whispered, a gentle reproach that made his grin widen.

The sound of your arrival caught the attention of those seated at the royal table. King Viserys, his mood as jubilant as it had been during the feast, waved you both over with a broad smile. “Ah, there they are! My daughter and her new husband,” he called warmly, his voice carrying over the din. The hall quieted slightly as heads turned to watch the two of you approach.

Jason inclined his head respectfully, his demeanor effortlessly composed despite the attention. He helped you to your seat beside him, your chair positioned beside Rhaenyra’s. The princess leaned toward you as you settled, her voice low and affectionate.

“You look radiant this morning,” she said softly, her hand brushing yours briefly.

“And you sound… content,” you replied with a smile, sensing the slight unease beneath her calm exterior. Though Rhaenyra had said nothing, you suspected her night with Laenor had not been as harmonious as your own.

Jason took his seat beside you, offering a polite nod to Laenor, whose smile was practiced but not entirely genuine. Across the table, Queen Alicent observed quietly, her green gown immaculate and her expression unreadable as she poured herself a cup of tea. To her left, young Aegon fidgeted in his seat, his restless energy evident even at the breakfast table. Aemond sat beside him, unusually quiet, while Helaena hummed softly to herself, examining an intricate carving of a beetle she’d brought with her.

King Viserys raised his goblet in a cheerful toast. “To my daughters and their fine husbands,” he declared, his voice brimming with pride. “May these unions strengthen our house and bring joy to the realm!”

The gathered court raised their cups in response, and a chorus of “Hear, hear!” echoed through the hall. Jason reached for his goblet, offering a subtle smile as he glanced at you. His confidence seemed to ripple outward, putting you at ease even amidst the watchful gaze of the court.

Viserys leaned forward, his attention shifting to Jason and Laenor. “Now, I trust you both understand your duties as husbands,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “The realm will expect heirs soon enough. I’ve waited long enough for grandchildren.”

Jason chuckled, his expression wry but respectful. “Your Grace, I assure you, I am fully committed to fulfilling my duties in every regard.”

Laenor offered a polite smile, though he seemed less inclined to comment. Rhaenyra’s gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to her father, her expression serene but watchful.

“Good, good!” Viserys said with a laugh, clearly pleased. “It does my heart well to see my family united. These are days to be remembered.”

Aegon, who had been poking at a plate of fruit with little interest, suddenly leaned forward, his youthful curiosity getting the better of him. “Will there be dragons at the next feast, Father?” he asked, his voice loud enough to draw a few chuckles from the surrounding lords.

Viserys chuckled, ruffling his eldest son’s hair. “Perhaps, my boy. Though I think we’ve had enough excitement for one week.”

Jason leaned closer to you, his voice low and teasing. “Do you think he’s hoping for a dragon’s egg as a wedding favor?”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Knowing Aegon, he’d want to fly Sunfyre through the hall.”

The breakfast continued, the atmosphere warm and convivial. Jason engaged in light conversation with the King, effortlessly navigating the courtly politics that underpinned even casual discussions. His charm seemed to win over many of the assembled lords, who watched him with newfound respect.

Further down the hall, Tyland sat with the other Lannisters, including their mother, Lady Leonella, whose expression was a mixture of pride and approval as she observed her elder son. Tyland caught Jason’s eye and raised his goblet in a subtle salute, a gesture Jason returned with a slight nod.

By the time the meal drew to a close, you felt a renewed sense of confidence in your place at Jason’s side. The warmth of his presence, combined with the King’s jubilant mood and Rhaenyra’s quiet support, made the weight of the morning’s attention feel far less daunting.

As you rose to leave the hall, Jason placed a steadying hand at your back, guiding you once more with the quiet confidence that had come to define him. “Shall we, my lady?” he asked, his tone low and intimate.

“We shall,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. Together, you stepped into the day ahead, ready to face whatever awaited.

The clatter of breakfast slowly faded as the court dispersed, leaving behind the hum of softer conversations. Jason’s hand lingered on your back as he escorted you from the royal table, his touch warm and grounding. When you reached the quieter halls of the Red Keep, he stopped and turned to you, his eyes alight with affection.

“You should spend time with your family,” he said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I’ll find you later.”

You smiled up at him, your unseeing lilac eyes fixed in his direction as though you could feel the warmth of his gaze. “Thank you, Jason.”

His lips curved into a fond smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be nearby if you need me. Ser Lorent will see to you.”

Ser Lorent, standing just a few paces away, inclined his head. “Always, my lord.”

Jason nodded, and with one final glance, he turned and strode down the corridor, his confidence evident in every step. You remained for a moment, feeling the lingering warmth of his affection, before Ser Lorent gently touched your arm to guide you toward your chambers where your sister and father would await.

Jason made his way through the winding halls of the Red Keep, his steps carrying him to an open balcony overlooking the bustling city below. The morning sun glinted off the rooftops, casting golden light over the sprawl of King’s Landing. Leaning against the stone balustrade, he let out a contented sigh, a rare smile of genuine satisfaction spreading across his face.

The sound of familiar footsteps drew his attention. Turning, he saw Tyland approaching, his twin’s expression sharp and curious. Tyland’s well-tailored crimson doublet reflected the Lannister pride, and his piercing gaze immediately narrowed on Jason’s uncharacteristically pleased demeanor.

“Well,” Tyland began, his tone as dry as Dornish wine, “I’ve seen that look before, but never when it wasn’t followed by a disaster. Should I brace myself?”

Jason’s grin widened as he turned back to the view, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not this time, dear brother. For once, my smugness is entirely justified.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, leaning against the balustrade beside Jason. “Do tell,” he drawled, though his curiosity was evident.

Jason glanced at him, his green eyes alight with mischief. “Let’s just say I had the kind of night that poets write songs about. My wife,” he emphasized the word with obvious pride, “is beyond extraordinary.”

Tyland’s brow arched further, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise impassive face. “Extraordinary? That’s high praise coming from you. And here I thought your standards were insurmountable.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “She surpassed them all. Every moment of last night was… perfect.”

Tyland smirked, his sharp wit ready as ever. “Careful, Jason. You’re starting to sound sentimental. What will the lords of the Westerlands think?”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “Let them think what they will. I’ve married the most remarkable woman in the realm, and they’ll see it soon enough.”

Tyland tilted his head, studying his brother with a rare flicker of approval. “It’s strange to see you like this. Genuinely happy. Almost makes me suspicious.”

Jason laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Tyland. I intend to.”

A brief pause fell between them as Tyland’s gaze turned to the city below. “How long do you plan to stay in King’s Landing?” he asked casually, though his tone carried an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

Jason straightened, his expression thoughtful. “Two weeks, at least. I want Y/N to have time with her family before we leave. She deserves that much.”

Tyland nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thoughtful. That’s new.”

Jason shot him a playful glare. “Careful, Tyland. Keep that up, and I might think you’re proud of me.”

Tyland smirked. “I’m proud of her for tolerating you. As for you, well… you’ve managed not to make a fool of yourself. Yet.”

Jason laughed again, the sound echoing across the balcony. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Tyland shook his head, his expression softening despite his words. “Just don’t ruin it, Jason. She sounds too good to lose.”

Jason’s gaze turned distant for a moment, a rare seriousness overtaking his usual jovial demeanor. “I won’t,” he said quietly, his voice steady with determination. “She’s everything.”

The two brothers stood in companionable silence, the city sprawling below them as the morning sun climbed higher. For once, Jason’s smile was free of bravado, a quiet reflection of the happiness he’d found—and his resolve to keep it.

Seated in the private solar where the King often retreated for more intimate family gatherings, you waited quietly, your hands resting on the cool stone arms of your chair. The soft sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of Rhaenyra, her gown rustling faintly as she entered the chamber.

“Good morning, sister,” she greeted warmly, her voice carrying a subtle note of curiosity.

You turned your head toward her voice, offering a gentle smile. “Good morning, Rhaenyra.”

She approached and took the seat beside you, her presence comforting and familiar. Moments later, the heavier footsteps of King Viserys followed, his jovial laughter preceding him.

“My sweet Y/N,” he called, his voice filled with paternal pride as he joined you both. “And Rhaenyra—both my beautiful daughters, together. What more could a father ask for?”

You smiled at his warmth, and Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “A bit of calm, perhaps,” she teased lightly.

A servant entered, carrying a decanter of wine and three delicate cups. The scent of Dornish red filled the air as the servant poured, the liquid catching the morning light. Rhaenyra reached for one of the cups and placed it gently in your hands, her touch careful but reassuring.

“Here,” she said softly, “just the way you like it.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your fingers curling around the stem of the cup.

There was a moment of companionable silence as the three of you settled. Rhaenyra broke it first, her tone light but edged with curiosity. “So, sister, how did you find married life on its first night? Was Jason… good to you?”

Her question was laced with affection and a teasing undertone, but you could sense the genuine concern behind her words. Your cheeks flushed as you considered your answer, but you smiled, your voice soft.

“He was kind,” you admitted, your thumb brushing against the edge of the cup. “And gentle.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, satisfied, though her smirk suggested she would pry for more details later. “Good,” she said simply. “He’d regret it otherwise.”

Viserys, sipping his wine, chuckled at her words. “Jason seems smitten with her, Rhaenyra. I doubt he’ll give her any reason to complain.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, smiling slyly. “As he should be. Y/N deserves nothing less.”

The warmth of their protectiveness enveloped you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for your family. Though the court could be a storm of whispers and expectations, here you felt safe.

As the conversation shifted, Viserys set his cup down, his expression turning thoughtful. “Speaking of family, I should mention that Daemon sulked off somewhere in the city last night. Likely prowling the streets as he does when something displeases him.”

Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. “Let me guess—he drank too much at the feast and found some reason to brood.”

Viserys laughed, the sound hearty. “It’s Daemon; I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. He’ll reappear soon enough, storming back into the Keep as if nothing happened.”

Rhaenyra raised a brow, her tone dry. “Perhaps he’ll even have some new scandal to share.”

The thought of Daemon’s unpredictable antics drew a small laugh from you, and Viserys grinned at your reaction. “There, you see? Even Y/N finds her uncle’s dramatics amusing.”

Rhaenyra leaned toward you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Let’s hope he doesn’t try to steal Jason away for some wild adventure just to make his warning more clear. I think he’d enjoy tormenting him far too much.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Jason can handle himself.”

“I’m sure he can,” Viserys said with a chuckle. “But let us pray he doesn’t have to, at least not today. For now, let us enjoy this peace while it lasts.”

The three of you sat together, sharing wine and laughter, the bonds of family weaving tighter as the morning sun climbed higher. For now, the troubles of the realm—and the inevitable chaos of Daemon’s return—could wait.

[marlynnofmany]

Partially Fragile

The box stuck in the tree was a lovely sight, really. Visually striking. The vivid blue of whatever variety of alien cardboard this was contrasted nicely with the metallic golden leaves, which fluttered in the breeze like a chicken settling happily into a dust bath. 

Just way the heck up there in the tree. 

Zhee hissed in irritation behind me, busy holding down the rest of the shipment in case another freak gust blew past. I didn’t think the other boxes were as light as that one, since the delivery had specified only one set of decals among the cans of paint and whatnot, but none of us wanted to take chances right now. 

With a sigh like a deflating basketball, Mur asked, “Think you can reach that?”

I started to answer, but he was looking at Zhee, with one tentacle pointed upward and the rest around a box of pigment that had tumbled to the ground. 

“No,” Zhee said tersely. He didn’t move from his position, forelegs up on the hoversled and long mantis pinchers holding the boxes close. If he stood on his hind legs, he could reach pretty far, but I believed him that the box was too high up.

“I’ll get it,” I said, before Mur could ask. There were enough branches that it looked like an easy climb.

“Great,” Mur said, hefting the pigments back onto the sled. “I could do it if I have to, but you actually like that kind of thing, so go for it.”

“I’ll be quick,” I said with a smile. I trotted over, eyeing the tree for promising handholds.

Zhee grumbled, “Be prepared for more wind.”

“Right.” I got a solid grasp on a low branch and hoisted myself up, taking care to place my feet close to the trunk and to test each branch before trusting my weight to it. A couple of the branches were dry and creaky, so I avoided those. The rest were fine, and I was up among the golden leaves in no time. It really was pretty up there. The box waited like a square blue egg in a nest made of precious metals. I grabbed it with one arm hooked around a branch for safety, checked it for dents (none, whew), then started back down.

The rustle of leaves gave me a split second of warning before the second wind gust hit. I clamped my free hand onto a branch and huddled against the trunk, box clutched tight, while the leaves flailed like the pom-pom of a cheerleader who was late for work. My legs were free of the foliage, but I closed my eyes and ducked my head to keep my face from getting lashed.

Then the branch beneath me

broke

and I was falling with no other branches below.

I forgot about the box, eyes wide and limbs scrambling. The oncoming ground was smooth. The broken branch had stayed behind. I was thankfully falling feet first.

I hit the ground and rolled, going on reflex and practice that I hadn’t needed for years. I was just hoping to get out of this without any broken bones, but I somehow pulled it off well enough that I jumped to my feet at the end of the roll. “Whew!” I exclaimed, all adrenaline. “That was exciting!” I shook my arms out and dusted myself off, wondering what bruises would show up as my nerves settled.

“Good save!” Mur called, sounding more than a little relieved. “I thought you were about to break every one of those bones of yours.”

“Thankfully no!” I said, looking around for the box. Various aches were starting to filter in, but nothing serious.

“I am amazed,” Zhee declared, “That a species so long and narrow responds to falling by curling up in a ball. And that it actually helps.”

“Well, you know what they say,” I said with a laugh that was still a little shaky. “If it looks stupid but it works, it’s not stupid. Oh, there it is!” The box had rolled in a different direction, now a square blue egg on the bare plains with more golden trees in the distance and only a few scattered rocks for decoration. “I’ll get it.”

I only made it a few steps before a smaller gust slapped me sideways and sent the box rolling merrily away. I gritted my teeth and kept my balance until the wind passed, then I sprinted after the thing. It was bound to be in less-than-perfect shape by now. Hopefully the client wouldn’t register a complaint about our delivery service. Though to be fair, the wind hazard wasn’t listed on the description for this drop-off spot.

I’d almost caught up to the box when I stepped on a rock that betrayed me by tipping my foot at a bad angle. I was falling again, and this time I went down hard. Skid, tumble, stare at the sky and wonder how I’d ended up on my back. Lots of places hurt now.

“Are you okay?” asked Mur’s voice from surprisingly close.

I looked up, worried that I’d passed out and missed a section of time, but no: he and Zhee had just ridden the hoversled over here. Zhee was kicking with his back feet while Mur did his best impression of a cargo net on top of the boxes.

“Yeah. Ow. Mostly.” I sat up painfully and took stock — palms not quite bleeding, many bruises and scrapes, but oh that ankle was going to be a problem. At least I’d landed near the box. I leaned over and swatted it toward the sled, then regretted that when a lance of pain from my ankle made me hiss like Zhee.

He scooped up the box and gave me a look. “Did you just survive a fall from shuttle height without any injuries, only to hurt yourself by tripping on flat ground?”

I sighed. “There was a rock—”

Mur asked, “You fell down because you stepped on a rock?”

“I only have two legs!” I exclaimed, gesturing at them. “This may be a surprise to you guys, but when one stops working, the other can’t do much on its own. Especially at speed. Ow.”

“Inefficient species design,” Zhee said. “And no exoskeleton; look at those abrasions!”

He scolded, but he rotated the hoversled so he was near enough to stick out a leg and help me up. He and Mur were still holding tight to the boxes. I appreciated both of those things. With a little awkwardness and a few bumps on my fresh bruises, I made it onto the sled next to the pile. There was just enough space.

“I can help hold things,” I said as I got comfortable-ish. “Ow.”

“You sure?” Mur asked.

“Yeah. I should be able to sit like this — ouch. Or not. Man, I’d love to take my shoe off, but that’s just one more thing that I don’t want to lose to the wind.”

“Yes, then you’d have to touch the ground with bare skin,” Mur said drily. “How terrible.” He freed a tentacle to wave sarcastically.

“Don’t start,” I said.

Zhee pushed the sled forward. “Woe is you,” he told me. “Soft and squishy despite the impressive ability to roll on impact. Sometimes.”

Mur scooted over and left me two boxes to hold. “We’ll call ahead to the ship after we make the delivery,” he said. “Eggskin can have the medbay ready for you.”

I sighed and leaned over to hug the boxes. “Just tell them I fell out of a tree.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[sundaaz-e]

୨⎯ Stay a Little Longer ⎯୧

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes of gold across the bedroom. You stirred, squinting at the clock. 5:45 AM. Too early, but you had things to do. A long mission awaited, and every detail had to be perfect.

Carefully slipping out of bed, you reached for your duffel bag, hoping not to disturb the man still sprawled under the covers. You hadn’t even zipped the bag halfway before a low, gravelly voice broke the quiet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned to see Shouta Aizawa sitting up, his dark hair a tangled mess and his eyes heavy with sleep. His gaze softened when it met yours, though he quickly masked it with his usual deadpan expression.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” you said, smiling apologetically.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, though the way he blinked sluggishly said otherwise. He yawned and stretched, the loose hem of his t-shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

You shook your head and returned to your packing. “Go back to bed, baby. I’ve got a lot to do before I head out.”

“Exactly why I’m not going back to bed,” he said, sliding off the mattress. Before you could protest, he grabbed the duffel bag from the floor and plopped onto the couch with it. “I’m helping.”

“You’re helping by taking my bag?”

“I’m making sure you don’t pack it so well you actually leave.” His tone was dead serious, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You sighed, walking over to reclaim the bag. “Very mature.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

By mid-morning, you had made decent progress despite Aizawa’s assistance. He followed you from room to room like an overgrown cat, leaning against doorframes or draping himself across your shoulders as you gathered your gear.

“Do you really need this?” he asked, holding up a portable comm device.

“Yes,” you said, snatching it back.

“What about this?” He held up a neatly folded uniform jacket.

“Shouta.”

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically, tossing the jacket into your bag before flopping onto the couch. “I still don’t see why you have to go. Don’t they have rookies for missions like this?”

“They need someone experienced,” you replied, checking your gear.

“You’re too experienced,” he argued, now lying across the couch with his arms crossed. “Retirement sounds great, doesn’t it? You and me, staying home, sleeping in—”

“Shouta, you’d lose your mind if you retired.”

“Maybe. But at least you’d be here to keep me sane.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you zipped up the duffel. But before you could move it to the door, Aizawa was there again, blocking the way.

“You’re relentless,” you teased.

“I’m a man in love,” he replied, the faintest flush coloring his cheeks.

When the time came to leave, Aizawa’s clinginess reached its peak. As you slipped on your boots, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a playful scowl on his face.

“You could stay,” he said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Tell them something came up. You sprained your ankle. Or your husband fell apart because you abandoned him.”

“Abandoned?” You echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Abandoned.” He stepped closer, tugging lightly on the scarf wrapped around your neck. “Seven days is too long.”

“Seven days will fly by,” you assured him, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into the touch, his usual stoicism crumbling for just a moment. “Call me. Every night.”

“I will.”

“And don’t get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. “If you come back late, I’m sending the kids after you.”

You laughed, hugging him back. “I’ll come home in one piece. I promise.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, watching as you stepped out the door. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

Aizawa lingered in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets. He stayed there until you disappeared from view, already counting down the days until you’d be back.

[bebethsas]

@foundtherightwords lol, he did? when??

"such a boy back then" sir that 'closing-the-shutters' moment in the hotel room has been compared to the Mr.-Darcy-hand-flex moment from the Pride and Prejudice movie in its intensity and ability to make people swoon--don't sell yourself short!!

("such a boy--" he was what, 22, 23 when he shot this?? ...also wow I just remembered that Leonard is canonically 20-21 in this, so Joe was actually in a role that was close to his IRL age for once--I know it's not the only role he's played whose age was close to his age when they filmed, but still)

2nd gif's caption: "what d'you want to have me in there for??"

also: man, I think this is my favorite scene in the entire show. I swear, every second is great;

there's Leonard getting upset--and trying very hard to leave--for multiple reasons: -he thought that Helen and her sister invited him to tea b/c... (...b/c I thought that you liked my company? That you were interested in discussing art with me again? That maybe you liked me (as a person)? He doesn't finish the statement, but the look on his face... only 22, only 22 and already so talented, what am I doing with my life...) ...when they actually just invited him over to warn him about his job most likely going belly-up (cough convince him to leave his position b/c they're convinced that they're right, and that their source for this info--(through gritted teeth) Mr. Wilcox--is infallible cough). -(I suspect that he's also upset b/c now he knows that they're on friendly terms with the Wilcoxes--Mr. Wilcox and his daughter dropped by in the previous scene, and Leonard's polite smile dropped with it--and I'm pretty sure that he knows who Mr. Wilcox is) -he feels like they only invite him 'round b/c...I'm struggling with how to describe this. It's like they don't care about him as a person with a brain, they care about him as a human for them to talk at. He feels like he can't discuss art with them, and he feels like they're judging him based on what he wants to talk about, and they unintentionally dismiss the way he interacts with art as well as his emotions about it; their way of viewing art is the only thing that is discussed, and his way isn't encouraged? I'm trying to explain it...It's like...imagine that they're three children, and they've each brought a toy to their gathering; only the Schlegel sisters' toys are allowed to be played with, while Leonard's toy is purposefully ignored since the sisters aren't interested in it. -they're not interested in his interests and don't want to talk about them, and only want to talk about what they want to talk about (gaaaaah and as a person with ASD I felt that line on a spiritual level)

then there's Helen desperately trying to diffuse the situation--all the while not knowing why there is a situation to diffuse in the first place and becoming visibly distressed

and then Tibby pops up out of nowhere and inadvertantly makes things worse with his blunt way of speaking (and being damn funny the entire time too; he literally enters the scene by suddenly leaning out of a doorway and saying "does anyone actually like [Dostoyevsky]...you can't go a single page without someone collapsing on the floor," in response to something his sister had said in her private conversation with Leonard) (note to self, look into reading Dostoyevsky, it sounds like his work would appeal to my ✨Dramatic✨ taste.) Tibby, literally 2 seconds later with zero tact or intended malice: "I say, are you that poor devil of a clerk they have debates over at the Chelsea Women's Political Club?"

and Annie the maid, popping up twice while trying to look for Leonard's hat, and becoming increasingly more stressed and upset from the stressful situation and Helen's rising stress levels (which she is unintentionally taking out on Annie), which puts more unspoken pressure on her to find that hat.

it's a boatload of tension, mainly between Helen and Leonard, with Annie off camera in another room, and with Tibby on the side (looking rather nonplussed and completely unphased by the thick-and-stressful tension in the air--love that for him 😂).

you can tell that Helen feels bad (and confused) that Leonard's upset and wants to make it right (even as their conversation goes farther and farther downhill as they speak), and Leonard is upset and disappointed and just wants to leave (but he can't because he can't find his hat--and no he can't just leave without it, not just b/c it's not The Proper Thing To Do, but because if he left it behind, that means that he would have to come back and fetch it; and he also can't replace it b/c he and Jackie are already struggling to make ends meet as is, so he's literally stuck standing awkwardly in the hallway with Helen as he waits for Annie to locate and return with his hat, while uncomfortably enduring Helen's questions) and it's just...aaaaaaaauuughhhhh!!! It's great :3

It's a very human scene, and I've lived similar situations before, so it feels VERY realistic.

i pray that linking this doesn't lead to yt finding this vid and deleting it:

(yes I backed up a bit b/c the preceding scene is also good, goddammit, it's so subtle but you can see the minute way his face falls when they tell him that the reason they wrote him was b/c they wanted to warn him about his job. I swear, you can see the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes.)

...literally so talented that when Anne Rice (yes, Lestat's mom) watched the miniseries, she noticed it and tweeted about it.

JOSEPH QUINN as LEONARD BAST in Howard's End

[nerdygaymormon]

I understand this may sound almost childish but how do you handle your emotions when upsetting discourse takes place in a meeting?

Just got out of Elders Quorum and while most of the discussion was held with good intentions, it started to dip into good ol’ Holier than Thou ‘but not really’ and more particularly referencing a Seminary Q&A panel question with the answer of ‘Mastery of self’ comparing Being LGBTQIA+ is just as much a matter of Self Mastery as any other struggle (Cis/Hetero attraction and porn brought up as The Same)

While I had suspected it to take that turn, I knew I was too emotionally charged in the moment and didn’t speak up for the sake of not rocking the boat in turbulent waters so to speak, despite having several ideas to deepen discussion (as well as time running out) . Especially with the debate as to come out then and there to Make a Point. But more importantly and impactful of the point of “Let’s Ask Questions” instead of Push out Guidance

There were some more compassionate voices that soothed it somewhat but I don’t know how to handle it as of the moment. Should I bring it up again in the future?

Do you think it’s just an age/experience thing? Where as I get older I’ll have a better grasp on myself?

Oof, that's tough.

The idea that they're comparing being queer to being cis/hetero is rich because the LDS Church encourages people to act on being cis/hetero and rewards them, while telling queer people that being queer is alright as long as you don't act on it. If queer people were treated the same, had the same teachings that we'd be rewarded in heaven, then that would be an apt comparison, but this is not the reality we live with.

It's especially hard to be in discussions like this when you're not out of the closet. For one thing, people feel free to share their hot takes when they don't think there's any queer people present. Another is that being in the closet makes it difficult to speak in response, being able to speak openly as a queer person gives you a certain power.

When I was in the closet and those types of lessons happened, especially when I wasn't expecting a discussion on LGBTQ topics, sometimes I just didn't have the spoons to speak up. I would keep my head down, or at some point I would get up and leave the room.

Even as someone who is out, these types of impromptu conversations in a lesson are difficult. Once, instead of speaking up as the lone queer person, I instead spoke to the bishop afterwards about the comments made and the problems with them. He asked what I wanted done to correct the situation and offered several proposals.

To be a queer Latter-day Saint means to be resilient. Here's a few ideas on how to build your resilience:

Build a group of friends you can talk to about these things. Other queer members are good for this, and they can be online or irl. It helps a lot to be understood.

Counter the negative things said about queer people, even if it is just you telling affirmative things to yourself. Do not let negative words go unchallenged because the subconscious has a way of accepting those things.

When I hear things like that, I think to myself these 3 questions: Does that sound like the God I know? Do these words fit with the two great commandments about love? Do I resemble the queer people they're describing? So often the answer to all 3 of these is a resounding NO and I know I can ignore what they're saying.

Think about ways you can respond in the future so that you're prepared. One that I love is if the question is asked "What is something evil that people today consider good?" Raise your hand immediately and without waiting to be called on blurt out "Homophobia and queerphobia" as that makes it uncomfortable for others to say gay marriage or being queer is evil. Here's a few more phrases you can have ready: "These are real people you're talking about, would they feel welcomed and loved if they were here today?" "When I face my maker, I don't think it'll be said that I loved people too much, so I'm going to err on the side of love." "I'm commanded to love my neighbor not my church."

Being in that situation can be anxious and stressful. Learn some breathing techniques that can help calm your body..

I think one thing that makes it difficult to be in these situations as a closeted person is often we haven't experienced queer joy. Being queer shouldn't be defined by only pain or trauma. Queer joy is different than Pride, by which I mean it's not a big celebration, but often is small things such as having a queer friend, eating cake at the wedding of a gay couple, the satisfaction at seeing queer people in a leadership role, learning about queer history and the many ways queer people have worked to make life better, when you embrace the freedom to dress and be yourself, when someone gives you a compliment related to you being queer, and so on.

If you have access to therapy, I recommend it. If you're a college student in the US, your student fees likely cover access to see a therapist on campus. If not, perhaps your insurance will cover sessions with a therapist. The university where I work offers therapy to the community at a discount rate, it's a way for those who aren't licensed to get hours while being supervised by a professor.

Straight Mormons cannot effectively teach what queer Mormons actually experience. Those who aren't close to a queer family member or friend cannot speak knowledgably. Unfortunately most LGBTQ Latter-day Saints have been pushed out and aren't available inside the church and collectively the church is poorer for it.

Here's a novel thought, I wish they would focus more on presenting the actual message and teachings of Christ, what a different world this could be.