#i hope you like it and forgive me for the wait

[entitled-fangirl]

Mind and Body.

Cregan Stark x chronic illness Targaryen!reader

Summary: Cregan visits King's Landing, spotting a princess who'd been hidden away due to her constant illness. He's enamored.

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Stark," Alicent greeted. "How wonderful for you to journey so far."

There was an agreement for the Warden to visit every five years to ensure his loyalty to the Realm and vice versa. Not that King Viserys was ever worried about Cregan. But the North was far and it was important to each side to check on the development of the other.

"'Tis only my duty to the North," he answered. 

The two walked quietly to the council room. Viserys had quickly grown ill, so most business would be conducted there. When he was well enough to go.

Which meant Alicent and Otto were in charge of their meetings when the king was absent.

…

The initial greeting was pleasant, even if the king was slowly decaying in front of him.

But Cregan had been free to wander around the castle as their guest. The next talk of business would not be until the morning, so he decided to take advantage of that.

The sun was beginning to set, just a hint of the dark creeping onto King's Landing. Cregan stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Even their cold nights here were hotter than the chill of a warm Northern day.

"Princess, surely you should rest!"

His head snapped back towards the open doors behind him. His curiosity was beyond peaked. Princess Helaena was fine. He'd given her a brief nod and a polite acknowledgement hours ago.

And soon enough, a ghostly presence passed by the doorway. Cregan felt his breath catch.

Silver hair. Grey complexion. And a gown and cloak that dragged with every step.

He was struck.

Her guard followed behind, a resigned look in his eyes.

"I feel fine," her voice softly commented. It was weak, like she never used it.

As they journeyed down the corridor, the voices faded and Cregan found himself following them.

"You've still yet to regain your strength from your scare last week. You'll catch a chill," her guard reprimanded. His armor clunked together with each step, a reminder of the life he abided by.

She was like a gust of wind that chilled you from the bottom to top of your spine. And Cregan quite enjoyed the cold.

"I only wish to leave my chambers for a moment." Her movements were slow and lethargic, yet graceful and calculated. 

"You should have waited for me to gather your boots. I have no doubt the stone is freezing over. Please."

Cregan noted just how comfortable this guard was with telling the Princess off. They'd obviously gotten to know one another well.

She released a ragged sigh, pausing in her steps to look over her shoulder. "I-" She froze completely at the sight of Cregan behind them. She hadn't even heard him following, and he didn't make himself known.

Her guard followed her line of sight with ease, immediately moving into a defensive position at the sight of the large stranger.

"Forgive me," Cregan immediately covered, holding his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. He took cautious steps forward more into the light of the nearest window so he could be more seen. "My curiosity got the better of me."

Her guard turned, relying on the princess for her answer to the situation. It was up to her, after all.

Her head tilted to the side and she stepped past him to close in on Cregan.

As she neared, he noticed just how shallow her cheeks were sunken in. The grey in her complexion was an unwelcome one. Her eyes held a dullness to them, despite the intensity of their gaze. 

"Cregan Stark, my princess," he greeted, tipping his head down and holding out a hand. He only hoped she'd accept it.

She stared for a while before remembrance ran through her. "Stark of the North. Right." She took his invitation, a shaky hand falling on his.

He noted how cold they were. But he stashed that fact away and kissed her knuckles gently as any gentleman should.

He also noted the ready look in the guard's eyes. Like he'd pummel him just for stepping a toe out of line.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure of meeting you," Cregan continued, letting her hand fall back to her side. "How the Crown has hidden a pretty girl away, I cannot understand."

For once, her lips quirked up on the ends, a soft breath escaping her nose. She finds his comment humorous. "You mustn't lie."

True, she's a bit worse for wear, but she still holds the Targaryen beauty that's so coveted. 

"I have not yet," he insists. "Nor do I intend to."

She gets antsy, unsure what to say. Her guard catches on and steps up to the pair. "Excuse us, Lord Stark. Princess Y/n much needs her rest."

"Of course. Excuse my ignorance. Please." His last word is directed right at her as if assuring she'd understand that he meant no harm in his actions before.

She still doesn't speak, only staring as her guard gently turns her back to where they were coming from. "Please start moving back to your room. I will catch up with you in a moment."

She doesn't fight, beginning the willowy trek back to her room. Slow steps once again.

Both watched until she turned the corner, and her guard's worried face switched immediately to questioning. "Ser Criston Cole, Commander of the City Guard," he introduced himself. "Might I ask your reason for following the princess?"

"I only saw her pass through the doorway. Curiosity truly got the better of me. I've not seen her around-"

"-and you won't," Criston finished. "Between you and I, it would be better if you forgot her entirely."

The Stark was thrown off by Criston's sudden aggression. And so he got defensive. "The Crown cannot simply hide away a vital member of its lineage!"

Criston grabbed Cregan's collar with both fists. "I'd warn you to walk away from this now." He was older than him, clearly trying to use that as an intimidation tactic.

Too bad nothing intimidated the Wolf of the North.

"And if I do not?"

"The Crown doesn't take it lightly when its weakest member is targeted."

"What is wrong with her?"

Criston, realizing his intimidation is doing nothing, lets go of him. He gives a glare that clearly says 'none of your fucking business' and begins to walk off in the direction of the princess. "Stick to snow and barbarianism, Cregan Stark!" He calls over his shoulder.

If anything, the guard's gall encourages Cregan. He loves a challenge.

…

The next time he spotted her was while sparring. The training courtyard of King's Landing was very different from that of Winterfell, but he took the opportunity to train with gratitude. 

It was quite amusing to see Cregan sweating profusely in a thin tunic while the others wore multiple layers.

Not that he would brag about his adherence to the cold. Out loud, anyway. In his head was different.

And when his eyes wandered up the castle walls, there she was. 

Seated in a comfortable chair on her tiny balcony that was clearly drug in and out every night she sat. She was covered in a thick fur, but there she was. Maybe the outdoor air brought her comfort. Her handmaiden brushed through the woman's overly shiny locks.

It was hard to tell exactly what she was looking at, but it was clearly in his direction, so he did his best to avoid staring.

Easier said than done.

Every few hits, he'd find himself looking up to make sure she was still there. She truly felt like a ghost, potentially disappearing now that he'd spotted her.

But she didn't. She only watched from above.

…

By the fifth day of meeting with Alicent and Otto, he brought it up.

"I also couldn't help but notice the princess you keep hidden from sight. I want to ask about her."

Alicent had been waiting for this. Criston had tattled on the man that first night. 

Otto was more amused. "Ah yes. I believe it's time we spoke of her. For once."

The queen gripped the chair tightly, earning a small 'tsk' from her father. "What is there to say? She's sickly."

Cregan leaned forward in his chair. "Why keep her locked away from the people?"

"She is not-" Alicent calmed herself and began again. "She is not 'locked away.' She is too ill to attend matters. That is all I wish to say of it."

"Humor the boy," Otto reprimanded. "Once you've spotted her, she's hard to forget."

"Forgive me for my bluntness," Cregan continued. "What illness does she carry?"

Alicent forced herself to keep speaking. "The maesters don't know. We've brought in every kind of maester and septon we could find. It just… comes and goes like the tide. You've not seen her at her healthy side, and for that, I am sorry. She can be a joy when she feels alive."

"She looks like death, no doubt," Otto asked Cregan.

"Like she's seen through its eyes," he agreed. "But not completely dead. There's still a small flame."

Otto liked that answer, smiling. "I like that. Now, back to the North…"

Cregan couldn't wait for the next sighting.

…

Had he stayed up late in the library, just hoping to see a glimpse of her during the dark hours? Yes. But he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

But it paid off. 

Like clockwork, she journeyed through the open doorway to the library, pausing when she spotted Cregan.

And she changed her course, moving into the room.

He felt that gust up his spine again, though it eased within moments.

She looked a little better. There was just a tiny increase of color to her cheeks than the last encounter.

Perhaps she was getting better.

"Do you always watch the men train from your balcony?" He braved to ask. He wanted the answer. He needed to hear if it was a special occurrence for him.

"No," her soft answer came.

He felt thrill warm his face. "Then why do it now?"

"I had to… cool myself. I was feverish."

Well, now he feels like a dick for trying to flirt with a woman close to death.

"Forgive me. I meant no offense."

"'S alright." Her attention turned to the vast shelves aligning the walls. 

He looked around too, though not in that direction. "Where's Ser Criston?"

She manages a smile and gazes back at him. "Think I can't outrun my guard dog?"

He exhales with a guilty look. "I truly don't believe you can, Princess."

"Good. You're right." She moves past him. "He was excused for the night. I snuck out during guard change."

"Quick," he remarked, watching her journey one of the large wooden tables there and sit. "I want to know more about you."

"There is not much to know." She rested her head in her hand. "Though, I can entertain your questions enough."

"Alright. Your age."

"Eight and ten."

He nodded. That was only a two years difference. "Have you always been sick?"

"No. I developed a horrid fever when I was four. No one thought that I'd make it. And I never really recovered. I've been stuck in this… state."

"And the kingdom just… forgot?"

She shrugs. "When the King never announced the recovery of his daughter… they make assumptions."

"Do they believe you to be dead?"

"I don't know what they believe. I don't talk to them."

A sadness filled Cregan at her declaration. He was beginning to realize just how much he takes his health for granted. He couldn't imagine a day without greeting his people. It felt like a stake in his heart. "Then I apologize for disrupting that when I spotted you in the hall that night. I should have kept to myself."

"No," she mused. "I'm grateful that you did not."

His head tilts. "Truly?"

She grows a tired smile. "I've never met a Northerner."

"And now that you have?"

Her eyes lazily travel over his body, taking her time to appreciate every part. When her eyes met his again, her smile only grew.

…

Cregan's three week stay was now entering its final week. He had found himself over and over again running into the silver-haired princess.

He tried to keep their meetings stashed away in his mind, but the look Otto gave him over dinner had told him he'd done a poor job of it.

So, there they all sat. Cregan Stark and the Targaryen dynasty- Otto and Alicent, Aegon II, and Aemond. Helaena found herself often staying within her chamber, eating with her young children. Sometimes eating with her ill sister when the two grew lonely.

Cregan was never good at small talk. He was a man that always got straight to the point. And the arrangements between the Crown and the North were at a standstill. It caused a light tension over the food.

They just couldn't agree. With the death of Viserys nearing, Cregan wished for reassurance that the next King or Queen would hold the North's arrangements. Alicent's word wasn't enough to reassure him. He needed more.

But that argument was hours ago, and now they all sat awkwardly over their plates.

Cregan had managed to bond with Aemond briefly over discussions of blacksmiths and longswords. It was something he knew well, and the prince clearly had an interest in it. It was better than sitting in silence.

Aegon had no interest whatsoever. He drank away his worries, no doubt planning his next trip out into the night.

"We all heard the rumor," Aemond mused through his quirked lips.

"Rumor?" Stark asked, sipping from his cup.

At the sudden question, each of the royals heads tipped up. They needed to know the truth.

Aemond smirked and leaned forward. His voice lowered. "That you killed a bear with nothing but a club and your hands."

He looked around the table, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He cleared his throat and set his goblet down with a light thud. 

A nod.

A collective intimidated breath fell across the table.

Aemond was impressed. He tipped his cup to the Northman and took a swig.

"Your Grace," a guard interrupted, bowing his head. "Princess Y/n," he announced.

Cregan didn't catch the others reactions, instead turning as much as he could in the direction of the door.

He'd feasted with them for over two weeks and only now did the ill princess join them.

She had color to her cheeks now, the light pink standing out beautifully. Lively. 

She was finally in a gown fit for a princess, deciding to uphold her appearance. 

She clearly wanted to be there.

It was quiet as each step echoed until she reached the seat next to Aegon. The prince reached out, tugging her chair back to encourage her to sit.

Now seated across from Cregan, her eyes met his.

And she smiled.

"It's good to see you up," Otto announced. "I didn't dare to think you'd recovered this well."

She watched the servants tend to her. "Neither did I, but Criston was nearing the idea of simply locking me in my room to get me to rest."

They all found that relatively amusing. Except for Alicent, who only stared with a guilty look. They all knew the queen was sleeping with the Commander of the Guard. She ordered him around like a dog, having him watch her ill daughter like a hawk.

"It is," Cregan spoke, clearing his throat again, "It is good to see you." His voice was softer, clearly meant for her. His eyes took her in a way the gods would scorn. Like she was something to worship.

When healthy, he thought she was a version of the earth itself. Like the warmest day in Winterfell when the wind was just cool enough to remind you to be awake. Or the beauty of falling snow. It bites when you get too close, but he wouldn't be frightened of death in its embrace. She was not sunshine or light, but she was beautiful in her own way, dragging death alongside her wherever she went.

His eyes only left hers when he heard Aegon clear his throat obnoxiously. 

"Sister, I thought you were dining with Helaena tonight?"

"The twins were… rather tiring today and she wished to rest instead."

He nodded, accepting that answer, but his eyes were trained on Cregan now, squinting as if he could read him. His fingers picked the meat off of a bone on his plate absentmindedly.

Alicent was about the same, recognizing the longing look in the Wolf's eyes.

…

The princess had excused herself early from dinner, still not entirely up to the usual standard of supping like the others.

That gave Cregan no excuse when Alicent dismissed everyone except for him.

So here he is, stuck sitting at the large table and Alicent paces around it like a lion and its prey.

"I don't like the way you look at her," she started. "She is ill. Have you no morals?"

"Like what?" Cregan challenged. "Look at her in what way?"

"Like you want her."

Her bluntness is not something he expected. He's a bit thrown off. But the queen isn't entirely wrong. "Your Grace-"

"-Do not give her false hope," Alicent says in a lower tone. A pleading one. "She cannot take a heartbreak. She cannot take any outside occurrences tormenting her. She'd surely die."

In truthfulness, Cregan had not considered what would happen if she did grow attached, only for him to leave. The thought hurts. "I mean no harm to her. She is magnificent."

Alicent pauses like the words were poison. "Do not lie to me." Her anger grows. "She is ill. She will always be ill. She'll spent her life in her chamber, in her bed. Do not act like that is not the case."

"Meaning what, my queen?"

"That she could never be a wife."

…

The queen's words had haunted Cregan more than he cared to admit. He mostly hated that she might be right.

When he saw the princess again the next day, she was more chipper than he'd ever seen her before. 

"Lord Stark!" She greeted, her steps a bit quicker than before, though still not he'd consider fast.

He gave a brief smile, continuing his walk down the corridor.

Her face fell a bit. "I-Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm only rushing to meet with your mother."

She sighed, trying to keep up with him. "I thought you did not meet again until the morrow."

"You'd be correct in that."

His tone was matter of fact, no room for the gentle pronunciations he'd used before. It was clearly hurting her. It hurt him, too. But he was on a mission.

So she stopped, watching the Northerner walk away with heavy footsteps.

…

He threw the doors open, not waiting for the guards to do it. "I've decided you're wrong."

It was a bold move, causing the Queen to stand and frown. Not many challenged her, especially in this way. To arrange a meeting midday and then enter in this fashion? Suicide.

Otto was amused, not moving from his seat. He gestured to a chair in encouragement.

But Cregan stood, his hands flat on the tabletop. "You've promised the agreement will continue to the next ruler in line, and I said I could not take your word. That I needed more proof of your insistence. Well, I know what I want."

"I appreciate a man who is bold, Lord Stark, but I implore you not to make demands of the Crown," Otto tried to ease.

"No," Cregan began again, his anger turning to Otto. "Though I doubt there will be much fight to this demand. After all, it seems you will not notice its absence."

"And what is that?"

He paused. "The princess. The one hidden away from prying eyes. I will make her my wife. If she'll have me."

Otto was genuinely not expecting that. Alicent grew angry. "That is my daughter! You will not take her away like a bartered cow!"

"That was not my intention. But fine. Let me rephrase." The Wolf rolled his shoulders back, standing tall before the two. " I wish to court your daughter. No alliance involved. No quill to parchment. No deals. This is not part of our agreement."

"How is it not?"

"If you let me court her, it means you have faith in the North. In me. I don't need a parchment to say that."

Otto sighed. "Let me get this clear. You wish to marry a princess of whom will spend her life half dead?"

Cregan shrugged. "Half dead is half alive. And I like the odds. I like her."

"Surely she won't last in the North," Alicent reasoned. "The second the air seeps through your window, she'll die."

"The same way she's dying here?"

That shut Alicent up.

"There are great maesters in the North. They know the effects of the cold on the body. I have no fear of that. I'll tend to the fires in her chamber myself if I must- even collect the wood myself if you're so frightened. I am no idiot. I can keep her alive and happy."

The two considered the man's proposal. It was a strange one. But they recalled the look between him and her at dinner the night before.

"She'll never give you children," Alicent said with remorse.

He nodded. "I'm prepared to deal with that."

Otto look to the Queen, giving a tilt of his head.

She sighed. "If she wants you, she's yours."

…

Three days left in his stay, and he had spent two days without seeing her.

He didn't wish to go to her chamber. She deserved the privacy. That and… he didn't know where it was. 

So instead, he resorted to staying up late, hoping she'd appear. 

She didn't.

…

Criston Cole passed Cregan, a glare in his eyes.

Cregan followed, grabbing the guard from behind and pinning him against the wall. "Where is she?"

Criston hissed through his teeth. "Why do you assume I've hidden her?"

"Tell me."

He spit in the Wolf's face.

Cregan only blinked, the rest of his face unflinching. "Where is she?"

"In her room. Where she always is," he seethed.

Cregan's head tilted menacingly.

Criston continued. "West wing. Up the stairs, the door at the end."

He slammed the guard against the wall one more time for good measure, then stormed off.

…

He knocked on the door, and her handmaiden answered. "Oh. You're not the maester."

He frowned. "The maester?"

A soft voice came from inside the room, catching the handmaiden's attention. She nodded and opened the door for him.

He stepped in.

The princess laid on her bed, looking quite literally like death. It was worse than the first time he'd sighted her.

She was thinner, her cheeks sunken in again, her skin the dull grey he hated. Her hair was greased with sweat. Yet at the sight of him, she tried to give a weak smile.

Nearing her side, he sighed. "I had… I had no idea, Princess."

Her handmaiden moved to the other side of the bed, going back to dabbing the princess's forehead with a wet cloth. 

Y/n hummed at the chill. "'S alright."

"So, these are the ill spells you were speaking of." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes," she sighed. "'S so sudden."

"I see that." He reached out to her hand, brushing his fingers over hers. He didn't want to overstep. But she was the one to intertwine their fingers. 

He spent the rest of the day in there, leaving when the maester entered. He stopped him, leaning in to speak lowly to the doctor. "I want you to feed her meat. Lamb, pig, I do not care. But have it brought to her."

…

The maester did as he commanded. And the next day when Cregan visited, she was chipper.

Was she entirely well? No. But the protein had her sitting up in bed, speaking to her handmaiden as her hair was being braided.

It warmed Cregan.

He grinned when he entered, sitting at her side comfortably now. "You look much better."

"I feel better," she smiled. "The maester said you helped."

"That's ridiculous. What do I know about health?"

But they both knew. They all knew.

"Mother told me something odd."

He froze. "Oh?"

"That you wish to marry me."

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. Perhaps she's rejecting him.

"Is that true?"

He nodded, his fingers playing with hers. "It is. If you'll have me."

She smiled, gently waving her handmaiden off now that her hair was done. The girl left with a knowing grin.

"I'll have you, Cregan Stark."

He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over the light pink in her cheeks. "Then I am a lucky man."

…

And in the North, she blossomed. 

He kept a steady diet of red meat for her, watching as she no longer spent every day in their chamber, even getting to journey out to the courtyards and sit through petitions. 

The two spent every night cuddled under the furs of their bed. The fire always burned, he made sure of it. 

Her mind loved Cregan, and now her body could too.

................................................

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[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. chwe vernon x reader ⇢ summary. vernon loves music, and you love vernon. ⇢ genre. fluff, bffs2lovers, college!au ⇢ word count. approx. 2k ⇢ author’s note! happy (early) valentine’s day! i unfortunately wrote this last week which means it came so close to deletion at least 10 times, and so im posting it now to prevent that. thank you to alta @haologram for helping me brainstorm the playlist, i truly believe u are a gift to this world.

playlist. love language, kehlani / jasmine, dpr live / want u around, omar apollo & ruel / like i want you, giveon / thinkin bout you, frank ocean / best part, daniel caesar & h.e.r.

It’s closing in on two in the morning when you finally leave the library. Your phone’s been on do not disturb since you got there at seven, which feels like forever ago — as you exit, casting a sympathetic glance at the remaining two students still glued to their textbooks, you scroll quickly through your notifications. Two emails, a follow request, and a passive-aggressive threat from Duolingo.

You pull your coat tighter around you as you finally emerge through the last set of double doors — it’s freezing, and you’re just about to stow your hands deep into your pockets when your phone buzzes.

[2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 yo [2:03am] vernon 👽🖤 ur prob asleep but i made u smth [2:04am] vernon 👽🖤 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4grGIbqG5VSvNpDLuwdG7X

Instinctively, you smile. You and Vernon have a bunch of playlists. A collaborative one, for when you’re together, driving or hanging out or whatever. Then he has one for you with all the songs he thinks you’ll like, and then you have one for him for the same reason. 

[2:05am] you another one?  [2:06am] vernon 👽🖤  yooo why are u still up dude [2:06am] you hypocrite 🫵 [2:06am] you but i’m walking home from the library rn

vernon 👽🖤  is calling . . .

“Dude,” he says, by way of greeting, and he doesn’t sound impressed.

“Dude,” you mimic exactly, biting back a smile at the sound of his voice.

“It’s two in the morning,” he sighs, and you can hear sheets rustling in the background. “Why are you walking home alone?”

“It’s not far, Vernon.” 

“It’s dark and it’s been snowing. You should have called me,” he reprimands without any heat. “I would’ve picked you up.”

“Well, it is two in the morning.” You cross the road, stepping over a patch of snow. “I assumed you’d be asleep, not curating another playlist.”

“Oh. Yeah, that — that was — have you opened it?” Vernon’s words trip over each other, and your lips turn up ever so slightly. God, he’s so sweet.

“What, are you nervous?” you tease, unable to resist. “I have, like, fifteen of your playlists saved already.”

“You haven’t opened it,” he infers, and exhales a little. “Okay, um, maybe you should… wait. Until the morning or something.”

“Yeah, right,” you snort. “I’m listening to it now! It’s going to keep me company on my way home. Talk to you later!”

And you hang up before he can protest, already scrolling to find the link he sent you.

The first thing you notice is the name — Love Language. Which makes your heart twist a little, until you realise it’s the name of the first song, and anyway, you and Vernon have made this joke a hundred times. His love language is making playlists, he does it for his friends all the time. You included — you especially. Like the time he’d eaten the last slice of a cake you’d bought, apparently because he thought it was free-for-all. You’d given him the silent treatment for a day and a half before he’d texted you a playlist link: 

I AM (IVE)

really (mimi bay)

Sorry (Justin Bieber)

About (SoKuen)

EATING (Sukihana)

The Cake (John Powell)

I Will (Remastered 2009) (The Beatles)

Buy (Cousines like Shit)

You (Basil Valdez)

MORE (j-hope)

Please Please Please (Sabrina Carpenter)

Forgive Me (Chloe x Halle)

It made you laugh, because Vernon always makes you laugh. A few months and a few playlists later, you were harbouring the biggest crush known to mankind.

That was three years ago. You and Vernon are seniors now, set to graduate next summer, and what was meant to be a harmless crush on a friend has turned into being completely, totally in love with your best friend. It wasn’t that serious until it suddenly was. It was butterflies in your stomach when you saw him, at first. Now it’s like a sigh of relief. It's more coming home. Which is a lot more dangerous, and a lot more painful.

You handle it, most days, but sometimes he’ll do something or say something that completely throws your perfectly regulated emotions into overdrive. He’ll laugh at a stupid joke you make, or he’ll grab your hand to make a point or he’ll tell you that you’re pretty, and your heart swells until it presses painfully against your ribs, hot and slippery and aching. Those days, you mostly go home just to lie on the floor, listen to the only playlist of yours that Vernon hasn’t seen.

The second thing you notice about the playlist Vernon made you is the cover. It’s you, you know it immediately, and you know exactly which day it was taken. You just didn’t know it was taken. But your best friend must’ve snapped a photo when you weren’t looking, because the cover is you, looking up at the cherry blossom tree that the two of you stumbled on during a late-night walk. It was maybe a little under a year ago, it was the night you realised you loved him, and it was the night you almost kissed.

You don’t know if he remembers it the same way you do. To you, that’s your biggest what if? moment. To him, it’s probably just another fun memory with his friend. His best friend, if you’re lucky.

It takes you a second, but you finally click play on the playlist — but the picture stares back at you, practically taunting you with the memory.

The two of you had been walking for twenty minutes, sharing airpods, until you’d seen the tree and gathered a pile of pink petals to dump over Vernon’s head; he’d realised what you were doing just a moment too late. Asshole, he’d said smilingly, brushing the petals off with two hands. Everything that happened next was cliché. He’d missed a spot, one pale petal still clinging to his hair; you reached your hand up to get it, and lingered a little too long, a little too close. You don’t think you’ve ever held eye contact for so long — it felt like forever and then some.

Until his eyes flicked downward. Only for a split second: if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you saw it, and it was enough to have you taking a step back. Not like this, you’d thought to yourself. You wouldn’t do anything like that. You wouldn’t throw years of friendship and an extended period of pining away so easily — you wouldn’t risk it over an impulse that Vernon was experiencing. If you couldn’t have all of him, you refused to even take one night. You’d rather not know than live with the memory.

You’re halfway through the second song when you finally snap out of the memory, and you can actually take a moment to glance at the rest of the playlist. To your surprise, it’s short — it’s only six songs — and more interestingly, you know all these songs. And Vernon knows you know them; some of them you recommended to him, some of them he’s sent to you already, and you’re still wondering what he’s thinking as the third song ends. 

Despite you claiming to be his best friend, you don’t always understand Vernon. Sometimes it’s little things, like how he fist bumps the cat on the street corner of his apartment. Sometimes it’s bigger, like the girl he dated last year. You didn’t understand that — or maybe you didn’t want to, because yes, you were well on your way to being in love with him, but he also didn’t tell you. You found out from Seungkwan (who was kind of triumphant about it, because he was always vying for the position of Vernon’s best friend, and he finally knew something you didn’t).

Mina was lovely. As if Vernon would date someone not lovely — he brought her to movie night after a month or so of them seeing each other, and she met your group of friends, and everyone loved her. Even you. And honestly, after excusing yourself to the bathroom to blink away your watery eyes, you convinced yourself that it was for the better: that this would be how you officially got over your best friend. So when Soonyoung asked you to go on a blind date with one of his friends the next week, you said yes. You and Wonwoo saw each other for about a month before you broke it off, and about a month after that, Vernon showed up at movie night without his girlfriend, and casually mentioned that they’d broken up.

Even the news of that didn’t do much to soothe you, because you’d quickly come to a conclusion while dating Wonwoo: that it would not be easy to get over your best friend. You knew you loved him now. You’d come to that realisation under the cherry blossom tree, a few months after both of your breakups, a year after you realised that you liked him like that in the first place. It’s been well over two years since you first fell for him, and you’ve been stuck there ever since — falling deeper and deeper because you refuse to pull yourself out.

Sometimes, on your most hopeful nights, you think that maybe Vernon could feel something too. Some nights he looks at you with a certain shine in his eyes, or when he hugs you he makes it last a little longer than usual. Some nights he opens his mouth to say something and the words get stuck in his throat, and he waves it off like nothing happened. Symptoms that are all too familiar.

Those nights are even worse, the ones where you go home and read too much into his every move, try in vain to stifle the hope that insists on clawing its way to your chest. Those nights are getting more and more frequent, and you don’t know how much longer you can handle it. Those nights, something in you is convinced he feels something, that maybe he could like you — on the very worst, you think he might even love you. But by the next morning, you’re dead certain that all you’ll ever be is a friend to him.

But now — today — you’re eight minutes away from home and nearly five songs in when it starts snowing, and at the same time, the cogs in your mind slowly start turning. You love these songs, Vernon knows you love these songs. You’re pretty sure they’re some of his favourites too; he’s always listening to them. And you’re so preoccupied with the realisation that’s sinking in, that same traitorous hope you’ve always shoved down stirring again in your chest, you barely even notice the snowflakes settling around you.

Because maybe you don’t always understand Vernon, but most of the time you do, even if it takes a little while — even if he has to spell things out for you, like his stupid cake playlist. Because that’s what he’s doing, you realise with a sudden jolt, looking at your favourite songs. Your favourite love songs. He’s spelling it out for you. That this is his love language; that he wants you; that he thinks about you; and as the last song finishes, just as you turn onto your street — if you love me, won’t you say something?

When you finally look up, you think you’re hallucinating. Because Vernon’s standing in front of your apartment building, holding an umbrella, and it startles you so much you actually stop in your tracks a few metres from him, blinking idiotically.

Vernon gives you a shy smile, charming and awkward. Your heart does the thing it always does when he looks at you like that; stutters, skips a beat, clenches tightly.

“You stopped replying to my texts,” he says, and the street’s empty enough that you can hear him, even from where you’re standing. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You don’t say anything because what can you even say? Where do you even start? You don’t have words — but you tap quickly at your phone with a sudden idea, and you hear the ping of Vernon’s phone from where you’re standing. You move closer anyway, smiling at the familiar furrow of his brow as he glances between you and the phone he digs out of his pocket. And you see the exact moment he registers what you’ve sent him, the smile that spreads across his face.

[2:39am] you https://open.spotify.com/track/5oO3drDxtziYU2H1X23ZIp [love on the brain - rihanna]

You and Vernon first met at a party. Seungkwan had promised both of you, separately, that it wasn’t a party, more of a small gathering between his friends, but of course, Seungkwan’s definition of small doesn’t match yours. And so you were kind of hiding in a corner, nodding your head and mouthing subconsciously to Rihanna’s Love on the Brain; you’d turned your head a few inches, and Chwe Vernon was standing a few metres away, doing the exact same thing. You guys had accidentally made eye contact and split into matching embarrassed smiles, until he’d sat next to you. He’d offered you possibly the most awkward fist bump ever, pairing it with an even more awkward, “So, uh, got love on the brain?” You’d laughed, and that was it — the beginning of you and Vernon.

Now, he pockets his phone again, but holds the umbrella out over both of your heads, which only makes you giggle. “You brought an umbrella?”

“It’s snowing,” he shrugs, but his smile is wide, “It’s just like… colder rain.” 

“Stupid.” What’s more stupid is the smile you can’t peel off your face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters, and you tilt your head with a sheepish smile. So many reasons, but one look at him and you forget them all.

“So,” he murmurs, slipping his free hand around your waist, “got love on the brain, hm?”

“Something like that,” you agree, and after three years of wanting and waiting, you finally kiss him.

a/n i linked the playlist vernon made at the top (yes i dug up one of my very old spotify accounts to do this). i have very mixed feelings about this one. it's kind of cheesy but so is most of my work, and anyway it's valentine's day!! so who cares!!! also once again this got a banner bc once again this picture inspired the whole thing. also wtf is up with tumblr ruining image quality!!!

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

[hansmic]

“𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗”

bangchan x gn! reader

summary: you and bangchan have been together for several years, and you plan a surprise anniversary celebration. However, chan has an unexpected event (like a work crisis) and it forces you to reconsider what "romantic" means. How does the unexpected twist challenge your connection? Do you find a way to reconnect in a more meaningful way, or does it test your bond with chan?

genre: fluff, romance, angst

warnings: none

word count: 757

————————————————————————-

Chan was exhausted and frustrated as he got home late from work. He had been looking forward to spending the evening with you, especially since it was your anniversary. He saw you waiting for him with a warm smile, and felt a mixture of guilt and disappointment. "Hey," he said, forcing a weary smile.

"I'm sorry I'm late," chan added, sitting down heavily on the couch next to you. "There was an emergency at work, and it took forever to sort out."

You tried to stay calm and understanding, but you couldn't hide the disappointment in your eyes. "It's our anniversary, and you're late again," you said, your voice laced with a hint of anger.

Chan slumped down more, feeling the weight of your frustration. He knew he had messed up. "I know, I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be late, but this was unavoidable."

You looked at him, your frustration turning to sadness. "Unavoidable?" you asked, your voice cracking slightly. "It always seems unavoidable when it comes to work. It's like your job is more important to you than I am."

Chan's expression softened as he heard the hurt in your voice. "That's not true," he protested, reaching out to take your hand. "You know you're important to me. Work is just... stressful right now, that's all."

You pulled your hand away, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. "But it's always stressful at work," you retorted. "It's our anniversary, and I had planned something special for us. But you didn't even remember, did you?"

Chan looked down at his hands sheepishly. "I...I did remember," he mumbled. "I just...got caught up in work. I'm sorry." He looked up at you with pleading eyes, hoping you would understand.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weakening. Part of you wanted to stay mad, but another part of you just wanted to forgive him. "You always say you're sorry," you said, your voice softer now. "But it never seems to change. Work always comes first."

Chan's expression turned pained. "I don't know what you want me to say," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "I can't just quit being an idol , I have responsibilities. But I do care about you, more than anything. I'm trying to balance everything, but it's not easy."

"I know it's not easy," you said, your voice cracking again. "But it feels like I'm always coming second. And on our anniversary, of all nights..."

Chan reached out to take your hand again, this time you let him. "I know I messed up," he said, his eyes full of remorse. "I should have been here for you, and for us. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just...don't give up on me, okay? I can't lose you."

Your resolve crumbled at his words. You knew he was trying, in his own way. And deep down, you didn't want to lose him either. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I won't give up on you. But please...please try harder."

Chan felt a wave of relief wash over him. He squeezed your hand, grateful for your understanding. "I will," he said, looking into your eyes intently.

You nodded, your anger fading. You knew it wouldn't be easy, and there would be more bumps in the road. But for now, you were willing to give him another chance. You scooted closer to him on the couch, and leaned against his shoulder.

Chan put his arm around you, pulling you closer. "I love you," he said softly. "No matter how crazy things get, please remember that.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in his embrace. "I love you too," you said quietly. Despite your earlier anger, being close to him made you realize how much you needed him.

Chan kissed the top of your head, feeling grateful for your forgiveness. "I'll make it up to you," he repeated, more determined than ever. "I know I've let you down before, but I'm going to try harder from now on. For you, for us."

You looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I believe you," you said, your voice regaining some of its warmth. "Just...don't forget about our anniversary next year, okay?"

Chan chuckled softly, knowing he would need to set a dozen reminders on his phone to make sure that never happened again. "I won't," he promised. "And I'll make sure to make it the best one yet."

———————————————————————-

masterlist is here!

[everywinterhasitsprings]

~ Timeskip! Boyfriend Kita Headcanons ~

Contents: NSFW | 18+ | Minors DNI | save me Shinsuke Kita (24) (Inarizaki grad) Rice Farmer 🧎‍♀️

Words: 0.7k !

Kisses the back of your hand when his soft lips meet your smooth skin while the both of you are out and about together. He not only does this when the setting is public, he loves it when it’s just the two of you; enjoying each others company in your shared home. When you get upset with him or even when he notices that you’re in one of your moods he doesn’t hesitate to do that kind gesture hoping that you’ll forgive him. It’s his own unique way of supporting you.

The rare times Kita makes you upset he desperately tries everything in his power to make things better between the two of you, even going as far as to blame himself; even if the situation isn’t entirely his fault. He wants nothing but to always be in the best of terms with you. Of course, you never like it when he puts the fault on himself. So that leads to the both of you resolving things, ending with Kita leaving a kiss on your cheek.

He never and I mean EVER lets you carry anything. If you want to help him carry heavy loads of farm equipment he kindly rejects your offer, only giving you words of gratitude in return for suggesting the proposition. He thinks it’s the most gentleman-like thing to do, he wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself after all. Kita does let you help him with other farm work, he loves that you’re always willing to help.

The bare minimum isn’t enough for him, he does things that are beyond that spectrum in order to be the best partner to you. He just thinks that you’re more deserving than to just be provided with the essential basics of a relationship, he pushes himself to always make sure that your standards are highly met.

He adores giving you words of affirmation, he couldn’t bare if you took something he said the wrong way. He’s always reassuring you when you don’t feel as confident in something, telling you that you’ll do great in whatever it is that you’re not so sure about. Support is his greatest emotion of love.

He’s always surprising you by cleaning the shared space you both live under. Not only that, he goes all out as to wash and fold your clothes— including the ones you use for work. He makes sure your shared room is spotless and the bed is always made. He scrubs down every single corner of the house to get it as clean as possible. After always coming home extremely tired you always see a plate of dinner on the table waiting for your return.

Innocent kisses are his favorite love language. Always expect to receive a soft kiss on your temple at random times. Any spot on your face will be met by a push of his lips against your skin. Followed by him hugging your figure afterwards.

| NSFW ! |

Always takes things slow, never wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Each time pleasing you as he’s asked to.

He’s gentle with you at all times, thrusting his hips in a slow pace. Enjoying every second he’s inside of you. Every time leaving you begging for him to give you more. Only then will he pick up the speed, letting out soft grunts in the process.

He LOVES it when you take control, weakening out when you line yourself with his cock only to let out a sharp gasp when you finally bottom out. Kita enjoyed watching you pleasing yourself on his cock, placing his hands on your hips to help you move.

The filthy noises you let out would have him wanting more of you, letting out moans intertwined with a mixture of his name as your pace gets faster reaching you closer to your high. You were very vocal when it came to sex and that’s another feature of yours that Kita admired. “mmm— I’m close.” The view you were giving him felt so dirty but enticing, roughly meeting your hips with his— looking so desperate and cock-hungry. He looked as your lips let out a loud gasp as you eventually reached your climax. Affectionately looking at the way you cum all over his cock.

He lays you down on the mattress, your back making contact with the plush material. He turns to take a cloth from the nightstand to clean you up— pulling you in an embrace once he’s done.

Kita loved you dearly.

[srrynrk]

even if it takes an eternity . . . 西村力

hai im back maybe ! short kinda angsty drabble of vampire ki cause iv been obsessed with @hoo-n-i-ki's vampire/twilight rk story (๑ △ ๑)* not proofread bbbtttwww

"So, what? You're just gonna leave again?" Her voice was sharp and stern as it always was, even when she was being sweet, her tone never faltered.

And she spoke like someone who knew what they wanted, someone who knew exactly what to do, and she told herself that she was that person. Whether she believed that or not was a different question

Riki could sense the disappointment that crept up her throat; he knew it was his fault, she'd drag him back home with continuous quotes of "You can change", and "deep down there's still human in you", but he knew there wasn't. He knew that despite how much hope she had, he had lost all desire to ever rekindle his old human nature. At some point, her convictions and comforts had turned into silent prayers that he'd believe in himself and they knew that, but seeing his eyes, so red and cold, just past them she saw someone worth forgiving, someone worth fighting for.

Riki looked to the ground, his way of channeling his shame. "Why won't you give up?" Cold demeanor falling as his voice shook "Why won't you just move on. Iv accepted this and you should too."

Looking at him, so beautiful and so ruined. Sighing at the sight you thought for a moment, truly pondering on whether anything you said would help at all. "I think..." His eyes flickered up slightly, her voice sounding much less confident then it did a few moments ago. "If you were truly gone, the human side of you i mean. If he was truly gone, you wouldn't keep coming back. You'd stop hearing me out when i plead, and you wouldn't bother holding me when i run to you again and again. But you do, so clearly, even though you won't admit it, you have hope that you can be happy again."

His cold eyes softened slightly, only enough for her to notice. "The day i give up on you is the day i see you bleeding out in the snow. Until then ill keep trying, i mean... we have forever anyway right?"

"Don't you get tired of waiting on me?" The cold air filled her lungs as she took in a deep breath and hummed "No, not really" "Were doing nothing but going in circles." She sighed "If it's you, i don't mind going in circles, even if we have to do it for eternity." She smiled slightly, and he hated to admit it to himself but maybe a piece of him was still human. Seeing her smile, her fangs slightly peeking out from her lips, was something he missed more than anything while he was hiding, it made his heart feel like it was beating again, even for a split second.

He was scared of hurting her, of draining her of all her hope and happiness, but more than that he was scared of losing her, even if he'd never say that.

He'll probably run away again, and they'll probably have to start over like they have for months now, but their cold hands feel warm within each other, and their past regrets disappear when they're together, so even if they do keep going in circles, he knows he'll keep coming back, no matter what.

note: haii!!! Im back for now, the riki vampire fics have made me want to write again, and i currently have a weird obsession with vampires! idk why! But I'll probably expand on this/write a new rk vampire story in all !! ദ്ദി ˵ •̀ᵥ_ᵥ- ˵

lowk couldn't figure out how to end this so it's poorly done and this whole thing is lowk ass dookie, sorry ^^

[paulyenvol6]

Love You From Afar

Based on this lovely request (Thank you so much for sending me your requests, keep them coming!). Hope you enjoy it :)

Contains: angst, crying, fighting, swear words

Wordcount: ~5.30k

Masterlist

You inhaled a couple of times feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"Y/n. Love, please talk to me, it's not that big of a deal."

Your back was facing Daemon and you closed your eyes because otherwise you were certain your head would explode.

"Quiet," you said your voice definitely not fitting your mood and concentrated on your breathing.

"Y/n. I know that you're angry, just let it out so we can move on."

Yes, you had tried to stay calm but now it suddenly broke out of you just like a river destroying a dam. You bumped your clenched fist on the table and turned around to your husband at once narrowing your eyes at him.

"You want me to let it out? Fine, I will. Daemon, you're not even aware of what you have done to me! You left without telling me anything and I spent the last two days worrying so much that something happened to you that I couldn't even speak or sleep or do anything. How could you do that?"

He looked almost remorseful as he crinkled his nose his gaze lowered to the ground.

"I know it wasn't ideal. Perhaps I should've handled it differently. But I know you and I know that you wouldn't have stopped complaining until I promised you I wouldn't go."

"Yes," you gasped standing up so abruptly that you almost lost your balance.

"Of course I would've complained. I don't wanna wake up to a letter telling me that you died on the battlefield."

Daemon nodded, approached you slowly and put a hand on your folded ones.

"I know. But it was necessary. And we won."

"Because you were fortunate. And this isn't even the fucking point, Daemon. You just LEFT. Without telling me where you were going. How could you do something like that?"

His face suddenly hardened and he raised his chin observing you for a moment before he dropped your hand.

"You're doing it again."

You drew your eyebrows together and open-mouthedly stared at him. "Doing what again?"

"Telling me what to do, for fuck's sake and y/n, I swear to the gods I'm so tired of listening to you acting like you get to tell me what to do just because we're married."

You scoffed raising your finger at him. "Daemon-"

"NO. You've been manipulating me for the past months and now every time I do something that I know you're not gonna approve of I'm feeling all guilty and like I'm gonna hurt you and I'm not playing this fucking game anymore. I'm still my own person and I get to decide if I wanna support my men at the Stepstones or not."

To say you were surprised was an understatement. The blood was boiling in your veins because how could he be the angry one now? You were supposed to scream at him and he was supposed to be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Too stunned to speak you just stared at him for a moment which he used to continue his rant.

"You're my wife. And that means I look out for you. But I will not wait for your approval whenever I do something and you're gonna stop making me feel guilty for doing things you're not thrilled about. You're wondering why I didn't fucking tell you? Because I knew I wouldn't be able to go if I did. 'Cause I knew you'd make me feel bad for leaving."

His voice made your head hurt and you sank down on the chair again.

"You're kidding me Daemon," you hissed through clenched teeth threateningly forming your hands into fists.

"Are you fucking kidding me? TELL ME! Tell me you're not seriously saying that it's my fault you left without saying goodbye because you thought evil vicious y/n would forbid you to get killed off in a war you're not supposed to fight."

"I'm not supposed to fight?" Daemon shouted tapping with his hand against his chest. "Who is supposed fight it if not me?"

"Soldiers. Warriors. Young men. Not the brother and heir of the king!"

He threw his head back sighing loudly and it made you so furious that he was treating you like a little child.

"I'm the commander of the fucking city watch. I could kill all these fuckers in battle because I trained my whole life for this. And now you're not gonna stop me because you want to control everything around you like a – like a…"

"Like a what," you whispered slowly raising from the chair.

"I don't fucking know. But I can't bear this any longer. I can't bear you commenting and judging everything and everyone around you, acting like your opinions are what the world needs."

"Fuck you, Daemon! I mean it, this is so typical of you."

You rushed towards him pushing against his shoulders blinded with fury but he held you away from him by wrapping his hands around your upper arms.

"Typical of me? You don't wanna get it. You're always saying we have to communicate more but you don't ever question your own behaviour. How am I supposed to talk to you when you're never, just for a second, open to what I have to say? Or what I criticise about you?"

You writhed under his grip pulling away from him and flashed your eyes at him.

"Criticise? You're not criticising me, you're simply raging because you can't handle not getting everything you want. You can't fucking accept that now that we're married life is not the way it was 5 years ago. You can't fuck around any longer or spend the night on the floor of an inn after beating up a couple of guys."

He rolled his eyes panting heavily while burying his nails into the palms of his hands.

"I don't want to do these things, seven hells. But I wanna have some freedom to defend my kingdom. Can't you understand that?"

"No I can't," you spoke coldly turning your head away from him and walked to the drawer opening it and tidying up the insides as if there wasn't a storm roaring in you.

"Y/n," he said his voice sounding so condescending that you decided not to answer him and instead kept your attention on the drawer.

"Alright then," Daemon growled after a while, seemingly having waited for a reaction and walked towards the door quickly.

Once you heard the door closing your facade crumbled and you closed your eyes panting heavily. You immediately stopped what you had been doing and stood up to lean against a pillar in your room as if it was able to give you emotional support in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Daemon and you still hadn't reconciled and you couldn't have been more reluctant to seek the conversation with him.

He was just as pissed as you were and so the two of you didn't exchange a look let alone a word.

But unfortunately you were forced to spend some time together as Rhaenyra's wedding took place in the evening and of course Daemon and you were expected to attend as guests. You would've prefered to stay in your chambers of course but you knew that people would ask questions if you didn't appear and so you found yourself unwillingly holding on to Daemon's arm while he led you down to the throne room where the celebrations would take place.

The ceremony already happened in the afternoon and now Rhaenyra radiated in the middle of the table next to her husband Laenor smiling down at her guests. When it was Daemon and your turn you bowed your head and then proceeded to congratulate the newly wed couple.

"Congratulations, my princess. And my lord."

The two of them returned the smile, nodded graciously and then faster than you could blink with an eye Daemon and you were dismissed and you took your seats next to Rhaenyra.

You fully ignored Daemon or any glance he gave you solely focused on appearing distanced and indifferent. You just couldn't stand seeing his face right now after your fight and you had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't be the first one to give in.

If he wanted to reconcile he would be the one taking the first step. How many times had you approached him in the past after a fight because you felt like being the bigger person and he had been pouting like a little boy. Not today, you thought and sipped on your cup of wine.

The time passed slowly because usually you would chat with Daemon and laugh with him about the people at the feast but since the two of you didn't talk you were bored and counted the seconds. The first time that you really looked at Daemon was when he suddenly stood up.

You frowned asking yourself what he was going to do but were still too proud to address him. You almost felt pathetic as your eyes followed him around the room and when you saw him stopping in front of a young noblewoman your heart skipped a beat.

He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare ask another woman to dance with him just because the two of you weren't on speaking terms at the moment.

At this point you didn't care if it was obvious to everyone that you were watching your husband because you didn't take your eyes off him for a second while Daemon offered the woman his hand which she took with a wide smile.

You shifted in your chair your nails painfully digging in the palms of your hands. Your veins throbbed and you felt like jumping to your feet to rush to him and sinking into the ground at the same time. He had to be kidding you! Never had you done something similar to him just because you were angry with him. And what was even the point of this? Did he try to make you jealous? Or did he want to show you that you were supposed to be grateful that you had him and that he could have any lady in the seven kingdoms?

Unconsciously you had started to nibble at your thumb while still watching the two of them precisely. When the dance was finally over you exhaled loudly because Daemon seemed to make his way back to your table. Perhaps he had just wanted to mess around a little but had calmed himself now.

You leaned back in your chair avoiding his approaching figure but when he stopped, and he definitely wasn't by his chair yet you slightly opened your left eye to see what was going on.

"Niece. May I have this next dance?"

Although you weren't a real Targaryen you felt like spitting fire because you simply couldn't believe him. You had to put up a fight not to show your true emotions and quickly turned away from Daemon as though you hadn't just witnessed their encounter.

You couldn't hear Rhaenyra's answer but when she rose from her chair you didn't have to be a genuis to figure out what she had said.

You didn't want to feel broken. And you most definitely didn't want to be jealous. But since nobody could smell your feelings off you you allowed yourself to sink into self-pity for a few minutes. The most important thing was just to hide how sad you were because you really didn't want to draw any attention to this mess between Daemon and you.

You focused on the food in front of you and acted like you didn't even see your husband and Rhaenyra dancing right in front of your eyes but of course you couldn't help it and your eyes instinctively traveled to them every few seconds.

They were so close to each other, way too close for your taste and you cursed Daemon in your thoughts. His hand was on her cheek which obviously wouldn't have been necessary and now a new feeling creeped up on you.

Embarrassement. He really had found that it would be appropriate to dance with the bride who additionally was his niece in front of the whole court while he had treated his wife, you, like venom. He was humiliating you to an extent where you couldn't sit still anymore. But at the same time, what were you to do?

You certainly couldn't make a scene as this was still Rhaenyra's feast and it would only be even more humiliating to call Daemon out for his behaviour. But you couldn't watch this any longer as well. You could almost feel the tension between the two of them from afar and as much as it hurt you, you felt an invisible force making you watch every single move.

The way she blinked with her eyes, Daemon tilting his head slightly and how close their faces were. You gulped and felt tears burning in the corner of your eyes. This had to stop, you either had to leave right now or somehow make them stop this torture.

In the end nothing happened. You sat and watched them for minutes like you were frozen until the song was over and Daemon bowed in front of his niece. You couldn't even feel relieved because your heart had already been torn out of your chest and you felt so overwhelmed with anger and devastation that just seeing your husband walk back to your table almost made you throw up.

And then he even ignored you. He sat down on his chair not paying any attention to you and grabbed his cup as if he hadn't just flirted with Rhaenyra in front of the whole court, including his wife. You were shivering and tried to hold back your tears which you mananged to do for a couple of minutes but feeling Daemon's presence eventually gave you the rest and you knew you had to flee the scene.

Without caring about being rude or ungrateful you abruptly stood up, ignored Rhaenyra's questioning look and rushed towards the door. A part of you wished Daemon would stop you, apologize and ask you for a dance but of course he didn't. Of course this wasn't the kind of story people sang about in their songs.

This was still Daemon who never failed to cut your heart out of your chest and unfortunately you allowed him to every time.

~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later you were laying in your bed with your eyes closed.

Tears rolled down your cheeks but you were too tired and unbothered to remove them and just hoped that at some point it would stop so you could finally fall asleep.

You couldn't remember ever feeling so down and frustrated because not only had Daemon humiliated you but he probably was celebrating now as if he hadn't even noticed your absence. Did he not care about you at all? Did he even think about you and how you might feel right now?

He knew that you had left the feast after you had been forced to watch him dance with Rhaenyra and he really didn't have to be smart to have an idea of how sad you were because of his actions. And yet he hadn't shown up yet.

Did you even want him to show up? Perhaps not. The thought of looking at him now was far from pleasing because right now you just wished to get approximately 12 hours of sleep and then wake up finding everything the way it was before. Him showing up now would only force you to face the humiliation once more and you also feared that the two of you would get into another fight.

You closed your eyes and cursed yourself because this definitely wasn't helping. You were supposed to fall asleep now instead of reliving this whole wicked evening.

You didn't know how and when but eventually you were actually able to do so and your mind drifted away. So when Daemon returned another 30 minutes later he found you fast asleep rolled on your side of the bed.

He removed his clothes to change into his night gown and when he climbed onto the bed his eyes fell on your tears stained cheeks which made him frown.

Yes, he had tried to make you jealous by spending a suspicious amount of time with Rhaenyra but he hadn't intended to hurt you that much. All he had wanted was to remind you of how much this relationship actually means to you and truthfully, he had also wanted to punish you a little for your stupid fight.

But seeing you lay like this now, rolled into a ball, your cheeks flushed from all your crying Daemon felt a lump in his throat. You had been sobbing in your room while he had been at the feast? Carefully and without really giving it a thought he moved his hand to your cheek to remove the traces of tears but as soon as his finger touched your skin you jolted away from him.

Daemon almost twitched and widened his eyes as you turned on your other side and crawled away from him. He didn't even know whether you were awake or not but you seemingly tried to get as much distance between him and you as you could and it broke Daemon's heart.

And yet he was smart enough not to approach you further and laid on his back. He sighed with a dangerous feeling inside and watched the back of your head. He couldn't help but feel like he had really messed up this time which wasn't at all what he had intended to do.

It was the opposite because he had thought that perhaps the two of you would be able to reconcile tonight. He had hoped that you would get jealous and remember how important he was to you and therefore would seek the conversation with him.

And this definitely was going the wrong way right now. At some point Daemon couldn't bare looking at you anymore and turned to the other side as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Daemon woke up the next day you were already gone and for a brief moment he panicked. You wouldn't have just left him like that, right? You were angry, sure, but he would get a chance to speak to you later and then the two of you would be able to resolve this fight.

Yet he had an ugly feeling in his stomach while he dressed himself and therefore was quick to search for you in the dining room where he found you sitting in a chair chewing on a slice of bread. Daemon felt odd standing in the door watching you who hadn't even noticed his presence yet but didn't know what else to do. His limbs felt so heavy suddenly and all he could do was mumble your name.

"Y/n."

You looked up and Daemon could instantly see your expression turning cold which worried him more than anything else.

"Sweetheart, I – "

He was interrupted as you stood up so abruptly that your chair almost fell backwards. Without so much as a glance at your husband you passed him and walked straight out of the room which shocked Daemon at first and didn't give him a lot of time to react.

"Y/n, please," he said trying to prevent you from leaving the room but you were too fast which left Daemon staring at you open-mouthed.

It was only that he realized how serious the situation was, or better, his suspicion had just gotten confirmed. You were beyond angry and Daemon felt very helpless all of the sudden. It was a feeling that scared him because he had always felt like he had utter control over everything that happened around him but right now there was you, his beloved wife that seemed to despise him and Daemon didn't know what to do about it.

You had made clear that you didn't wish to speak to him but leaving you alone seemed even worse. And Daemon didn't even know if your anger was still caused by the recent fight the two of you had had or by what had happened last night. He sighed loudly and slowly approached the table. What was he to do?

This question haunted Daemon all day. You avoided every encounter with your husband and out of helplessness Daemon had stopped chasing after you as well. He had gotten the message and wasn't eager for another rejection.

That was why he spent most of the day aimlessly walking around his chambers wondering where you were and what he was supposed to do.

It was a draining day and at some point his head hurt so badly that he thought about calling it a day and getting to bed at 5 o'clock in the evening. In the end he didn't and instead read in one of his many history books which helped him but still couldn't quite distract him from thinking about you.

Daemon was beyond worried as he hadn't seen you since breakfast. Still he must have fallen asleep before you arrived in the chambers and when he woke up the next day you were gone again. The only evidence for you having slept in the bed was the crumpled blanket and your familiar scent that made Daemon realize how much he actually missed you.

He stayed in bed longer than necessary and the only reason why he got up at all was a knock on the door around midday. He almost jumped to his feet praying to the seven gods that it was you but when Alicent Hightower appeared in the doorway after he had allowed her to come in he unconsciously sighed.

"Alicent. Good morrow."

She smiled friendly and entered the room while Daemon wrapped his morning cloak around his body. Of course it usually wouldn't have been appropriate to appear in front of a noblewoman like this but Alicent was a good friend of yours and therefore also very familiar to Daemon.

She sat down on a chair around the table and crossed her legs thoughtfully looking at him.

"Daemon," she spoke at some point and he stopped his strolling through the room.

"What?"

"Sit down," Alicent whispered and after hesitating for a brief moment he followed her demand.

"I have to talk to you."

"I see that," Daemon grunted sounding more moody that he had intended.

"It concerns y/n."

He narrowed his eyes. "What about her?"

Alicent sighed and folded her hands in front of her stomach.

"I'm worried about her. I know that she's not feeling very well lately. She's sad all the time, she cries a lot and she hasn't been eating properly. I don't know what exactly happened but I know that it has to do with you. She doesn't really talk about it but I'm not a fool."

She inhaled greedily while Daemon observed the cup he had wrapped his hand around.

"Daemon," Alicent repeated obviously not sure whether she had his attention or not. And lord, did she have it.

"I heard you."

"And would you care to tell me what happened."

He rolled his eyes but then finally looked at her. "We had a fight."

"That much I was able to figure out myself," Alicent snapped.

"It's none of your concern anyway," Daemon answered indifferent to how rude he might appear.

"Y/n is my friend. Of course it concerns me."

He was growing impatient and leaned back in his chair throwing his hands in the air.

"Then ask her. You're her friend."

"But she doesn't tell me anything. And I want you to do something. It's obvious that she's mad at you and I don't know how to help her. That's why I came here because you're the only one who can take care of it."

Daemon's head throbbed and he wished for nothing more than to finally be left alone which was why he closed his eyes while nodding slowly.

"Fine. Thank you. I'll take care of it."

"Will you?"

He tilted his head. "Yes. I will. But I need you to go now."

Alicent looked far away from being pleased but actually rose from her chair.

"Daemon Targaryen, I understand this as a promise. She really is down at the moment. I trust that you will solve this. I don't know about you but I don't like seeing my best friend like this and if you're a caring husband you shouldn't either."

"Thank you. Thank you for the advice," he snapped his voice dripping with sarcasm and then Daemon guided her out of the room or better pushed her.

Alicent was muttering something to herself which he wasn't able to understand but he couldn't care less. He shut the door behind her then leaned against it and exhaled deeply.

"Seven hells," he growled feeling his head spin but then quickly remembered Alicent's words.

She had said that you weren't eating and that was what worried him the most. Daemon knew you very well and he knew that not eating enough was one of the most obvious signs that you were feeling bad.

He really had fucked this up. Daemon rubbed with his hands over his eyes and granted himself a minute of peace before straightening up again to think of a plan. He had to do something now, that much was clear but he still didn't really know what. He wanted to do what made you happy but currently it seemed like all you wanted was to avoid any encounter with him which didn't exactly bring him any further. So was he supposed to ignore your wish and approach you nevertheless?

The more Daemon thought about it the more he realized how inexperienced he was when it came to fighting with someone. The two of you had never had a fight this ugly before so Daemon didn't know how to handle a situation similar to this one.

In the afternoon he became so frustrated with his own thoughts that he decided to just go for it and talk to you. The worst that could happen was you leaving or kicking him out and you had done that already so what was he supposed to be scared of?

Daemon searched the whole castle for you and asked countless servants and eventually found you in the gardens sitting by an oaktree and reading. You only raised your gaze from the pages when your husband was right in front of you and immediately jolted away.

"Y/n. Y/n, please listen to me. Don't leave, alright?"

You put on a pout and blinked away a few tears while rising to your feet with wobbly legs.

"Then you'll leave," you hissed your eyes practically spitting fire. "You can choose."

"Please just give me a minute. Y/n, what is going on?"

You laughed out loudly but the sound didn't calm Daemon at all.

"You really have the audacity to ask me that?"

He took a step towards you and tried to give you his best and most authentic puppy eyes while reaching for your hand.

"Alicent told me that you weren't eating properly. I'm worried, y/n," he whispered. Now was the first time since your fight that your facade seemed to crumble just a little bit. You pulled your hand away from him but the gesture wasn't very determined so Daemon tried to hold on to you.

"Y/n, please. I love you and I wanna make sure that you're fine."

Suddenly you broke out in tears and freed your hand from his grip. "No, I am not fine, Daemon. You fucking hurt me and you don't even seem to realize. You're an arsehole and I can't believe you treated me this way," you sobbed and hid your face in the sleeve of your dress.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, y/n, please just look at me."

He tried to grab your arm again but this time you were faster and turned away from him so his hand just touched the air.

"No I won't. You stupid bastard flirted with every woman at this feast while I was sitting inches away. I had to watch everything for instance how you almost made out with Rhaenyra. Do you even know how fucking humiliating that was? Do you?"

You had taken a few steps towards him and had pushed against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I really am," he declared while trying to get a grip on your wrists which you prevented by turning away from him again.

"Y/n I am sorry, I… I wanted to make you jealous. That's all. There wasn't any reason behind it or some purpose, I… it was all about you. Because I love you and after our fight I… I felt so helpless and I guess I… I wanted to make sure that… that you know how precious this is. This between us."

At first Daemon couldn't see a reaction from you as you still had your back turned to him and Daemon thought about repeating his words when a shiver ran through your body.

"Y/n," he whispered and came closer wishing for nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a hug. When you eventually looked at him your face was wet and your eyes were swollen. His heart felt like it was hit by a million daggers but then you opened your mouth your bottom lip trembling slightly.

"You arsehole," you whispered but it was so much softer than before.

"I'm sorry," Daemon said again because these were the only words he was able to think about.

"You stupid fucking arsehole," you muttered while your hand came down to his chest again. This time he let it happen and his eyes softened when your hand eventually remained on his upper body.

"I'm sorry."

You grinded your teeth seemingly questioning if you should stay angry at him for longer or give in.

"I love you, y/n. Only you and that will never change. I swear to you, I will never ever try to make you jealous again because that was so goddamn stupid of me."

You took yet another step in his direction.

"Keep talking," you whispered your face still not showing any emotion.

"I was a fool, an idiot, an arsehole. I should've talked to you instead of playing with your feelings. There is only one person for me and that is you. I promise you, I only thought about you while dancing with these women. I saw your face before me at all times and even after you left, I could only think about you."

Your face was inches from his upper body now and when your eyes traveled up to his face Daemon unconsciously sighed out in relief.

Carefully, almost as though he feared he would scare you away if he went to fast, he took your face in his hands and gulped loudly. Before he could say anything you closed the distance between the two of you.

Daemon chuckled in your hair pressing you to his chest while repeatedly stroking your back.

"I love you so much, honey. Gods, I can't believe I was so stupid. You know that I can't lose you. You're everything to me and I don't know what I'd do without you."

You didn't care to answer. It was his turn right now to shower you with sugar and treat you like a princess.

You decided to make him work a little harder before you would fully forgive him.

For now a hug was enough to calm down your anxious heart and if he made enough of an effort you'd tell him you loved him too later.

[starfleetteddybear]

Ah! What a glorious feeling crawling into bed, cup of tea in hand, ready to indulge with some quality fanfiction kindle time. Especially if it’s another rendition of Emmrich and Rook rated R kissing.

Everyday I wake up to like 30 emails from ao3 of all these great fics updating and …I feel like that meme where Sabrina is eating all that food she can’t decide which first. It’s such a great problem to have! I thought I’d just take a minute to share a selection of stories I have on my radar and am absolutely loving! Maybe others will find a new favorite? 🤩

Gotta catch up with some amazing works:

@nerdanel01 has put out new chapters for their stories featuring Agnes and Emmrich. So excited to check those out! What a treat waiting for me. You created such a slow burn yearning. 😩 It’s such a high I haven’t come down from still.

@tethrawke I gotta finish that last little bit of your story Hope Dream featuring Hawke and Varric. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🙌

@crackinglamb Gotta get caught up on your story The Turning Tide. The way you write about Iron Bull…I… He wasn’t even on my radar! You did so well! I’m hooked! 🪝

@emmg Literally I’ve loved everything you have ever written. Seriously, you could have your Rook and Emmrich fucking in a cardboard box and you’d find a way to make it inspired and sexy. Honestly, I think about you and @eavangeek on the same wavelength because you both just take an interesting premise and turn it into something absolutely amazing. Like Rumpelstiltskin turning straw into gold. 💕

@farore05 I am loving your story Amaretto Sour. And I can’t WAIT for how you get rid of Johanna. Hate that woman (in your story) with a fiery passion already and we just met her. 🤬

@heylittleriotact I heard people are dying to get in here is such an interesting premise. I didn’t even know I would enjoy a modern au of Emmrich but…👀👀👀👀 You have my attention. As if you didn’t already from the other stories you put out already.

@livingmeetthedead I absolutely love the way you are writing Emmrich’s pov in your story Quietus. It’s so unique and not many people are doing that! I don’t think I could write his pov very well…I might try at some point but I think you do such a good job at it! Honestly, I’d say the way you are doing it is inspired. 🥰 You’re doing amazing sweetie!

@andthekitchensinkao3 “If the notion appeals, Pari… I’m going to put my face between your legs and eat you like a ripe peach. And that’s only the beginning of the things I want to do with you.”OMG Somebody call the coroner (heylittleriotact) because I’m dead. 😵 so freaking 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@tired-truffle I know you just wrote that one shot about King Alistair and his queen warden but… 👀 God I loved it so freaking much. I hope you do more because you captured his voice and personality perfect in “Ball and Chain.”

@sabine79 You have been feeding us so good with Arsenic and Myrrh I literally can’t keep up. 🙌💕 NOT a complaint. I feel bad I have fallen so far behind. Forgive me because I love how you got your two “rooks” going on and I love how you have both a Lucanis/Rook situation and a Emmrich/Rook situation going on.

@templarkicker Your story “Once When You Walked Beside Me” has me in a chokehold. They were together and then BROKE UP before DAV? And then they are getting back to get her from lovers to strangers to lovers again? 😩🙌🔥

@sunny374940 I have so enjoyed getting to read your stories. Please keep sharing and posting them with us. What a delight to get a new update to my inbox from you. I loved how you took your Rook/Emmrich on their honeymoon recently. And the babywearing? So freaking cute!!!🥰 and I love you have your own original work going on too, “Damn Sky Wales.”

@woundedsoul12 Rook’s letter to Emmrich after Tearstone Island? Broke my heart! 😭 Seriously, great job with the angst. I’ve loved all your other dragon age stories too!

And a special shout out to @redheadsramblings because you are such a supportive sweetie. Everytime I (virtually) turn around you are there. And I see you all over tumblr and ao3 too! Absolute sweetheart. 💚

[gladiaralla]

Dark Red☾⟡꙳⋆

Part 2 - Dark Geta x !fem reader / Dark Caracalla x oc

warnings: +18 swearing, cruelty + b!ood mentioned, NSFW (slightly),

Disclaimer: In general, I will not pay attention to historical accuracy in my stories. Besides, English is not my first language! Nevertheless, I hope you have a great reading experience. Make yourselve comfortable. 🤎 [Feedback is appreciated.] Hope y’all like it. <3

"Spilling blood? In my name?,” you said indignantly as you looked into the bath and let your maid Helena comb your hair. You slowly leaned back and looked at the mosaic-decorated wall. Helena gasped and was about to speak when you interrupted her again. "Helena, I don't need any games!,” you replied, as if she could do anything about it.

She carefully ran the comb through your hair and tilted her head. "These are the customs, traditions," she explained in a calm voice until you turned and looked at her, beads dripping down your chin. “Did you see the way he looked at me?,” you began almost indignantly, waiting for her reaction. "Emperor Geta?," she asked and you immediately continued as if you had no time to lose. "Like I'm a... a prize or one of his..concubines!”

You paused for a moment and looked at your reflection in the slightly steaming water. When you looked at yourself like that, you couldn't imagine sitting next to him in front of a crowd of Roman citizens and being his beloved, his wife or the mother of his sons.

Helena took the sponge in her hand and let it slide over your shoulders. The warm water slid down your breast. "He scares me Helena. His brother too. That laugh...did you hear his laugh?," you mumbled and took your previous place in the bath. "I heard it too. It didn't make me any less uncomfortable. But you and I will have to live with that."

The brown-haired girl behind you stopped and took the black comb in her hand again. "We can't change any of that. We are all...property of Rome now. Their property..." Helena began carefully to not frighten you. You looked at her face in the mirror on the wooden stool. She lost herself in her task and her encounters became slower. Still looking at her reflection, you grabbed her wrist and stopped her. "What...what are you trying to say?,” you asked, no less cautiously, and she slumped her shoulders, snorting briefly as she looked at the curtains that led to the terrace of your room. “Oh, it's nothing...,” she whispered, shaking her head. She didn't want you worrying about her life when you were already going through enough with your own. "No Helena. What do you want to tell me. You can speak freely, you know that," you encouraged her, but she rose from her crouch and smoothed the fabric of her dress. Her golden bangles jingled as she moved. Slowly, she sat down on the edge of the tub. "I belong to Rome now too," she repeated and you shook your head, taking her hand in yours. You knew what she was getting at now.. "You are my maid. My friend. I would never let that happen,” you replied, shaking her hand now. "What would you do?...," she mumbled and put the back of her hand over her mouth. "Helena..."

"What would you do if one of them...took me? They can do that! And there's nothing you can do about it!"

You recognized how she lost her composure. "Excuse me...," she wanted to begin, but her voice broke. You paused, not knowing what to say to reassure her when you were scared yourself.

That unpleasant feeling when you thought of his black eyes, which had been staring at you all evening, ate you up from the inside. "Don't talk about such things, please...," you begged and looked at her cautiously. She raised her hands defensively. "No. Forgive me..."

Silence fell between you and it was accompanied by this uncomfortable feeling. It was rare that there were no words between you. She knew you and you knew her.

You swallowed your words and saw the marble bust. "I wish I had the spirit of Arsames. So full of life and wisdom," Helena suddenly spoke and you couldn't take your eyes off the white eyes, but you listened to her voice. "Where is he?," you asked, "He wanted to check on me tonight. Just like he always does."

Helena looked out unsuspectingly, but then a thought occurred to her and she smiled slightly. "He's probably wandering around. Remember when he came to stay with us for the first time? He spent all night exploring the house. He was almost unstoppable," Helena floated into memory and shared the thought with you. You also had a grin on your lips now.

‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ ⋆☾⋆ ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾

Arsames did the same the second you spoke about him.

Slowly, still dressed in the garb of the past celebration, he trotted through the corridors of the imperial palace. He turned his head curiously, looking up at the walls and the ceiling above him.

These were the nights when he remembered his homeland. Even if it wasn't longing, he felt this deep connection with the images that plagued his mind at night. He remembered every moment of his childhood there in the alleys between the mud bricks and stone buildings or the bazaars and markets. Spices, ceramics or precious stones from India filled the stalls of the traders, who tried to get rid of their goods by shouting. He never had enough thalers to buy something.

He often lingered by the fountains and water inside the rich gardens and stole the fruits that grew there. A smile crossed his full lips and he strolled along the corridors, past the busts that eyed him skeptically. He read the engraved names of each one.

Augustus, Marcus Aurelius, Domitian, Commodus.

He stopped and looked at the emperor, who had found his death in the Colosseum - buried by the sand and dust.

Slowly he stretched out his hand and ran it over the cold and rigidly chiseled cheek. He bowed his head, scrutinizing the appearance of the once living man.

The increased giggling of young men at the end of the corridor brought him out of his thoughts and he shook his head briefly. Curious as he was, he followed the noises and walked past the torches with creeping steps. As if he was walking on fragile ice, he made his way forward until he stopped in front of the ornate door. The patterns allowed him to see through the holes.

As his eyes traveled through the room, lit by large torches and small candles, he recognized the activity in the shadows. He swallowed and a shiver ran through his body as he saw the Emperor Caracalla lying there on a bed covered with silk sheets. Beside him, those concubines who had already sat around him at the feast.

The one with the darkest hair ran his hand along his upper body, which was still covered in the robe. However, it lay loosely against his body.

Arsames’ fingers gripped the bars of the door and his pupils widened at the unfamiliar sight. He heard the red-haired emperor chuckle in that familiar shrill tone. He gently slapped his concubine's cheek before taking his chin in his hand and pulling him towards him. His lips brushed across his neck and Arsames heard the gasp it caused. The other two placed kisses on his shoulder or the parts of his torso that the robe exposed.

Arsames didn't want to stand here, but he couldn't turn away. It was as if he wanted to see what they were doing here. He wanted to take in every single word, every single touch, like the scent of incense wafting from the room. He gripped the curved metal of the door tighter to distract himself from the tingling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe in deeply. What was he doing here? What was wrong with him that he was stuck here, watching the emperor?

It was a silent battle against his innermost desires, it seemed.

At that moment, he opened his charcoal-framed eyes and managed to let go of the door. Caracalla's voice broke the silence and he flinched. His heart beat faster when he heard the words.

“Look. A Persian night owl!,” his voice called out and the boys next to him, who had all snuggled up to his body, fell into almost cute laughter. Arsames stood still, stiff as one of the many statues of past lords and emperors. Only his hand managed to give the door a nudge so that it opened slowly and tearfully.

Caracalla sat up slightly, facing the strange guest, as his concubines did. One of them turned onto his stomach and put his grinning head in his hands. He looked at the gleaming back as if he were lost in thought. He stretched out his arm to run his fingers over the accentuated muscles and vertebrae.

"It's late, isn't it?," Caracalla asked and prompting, he stepped closer, his hands behind his back. He looked around the room, which was fogged with scents and smoke. "It...was not my intention to snoop around, my Emperor," he explained carefully, considering his words. Caracalla chuckled briefly and pulled the curly-haired man's head towards him by his jaw, brushing his lips over his glistening cheek.

"Oh, we'll take your word for it, won't we? What do you mean, my dear?," he asked the young man with clear irony, whose face he was still holding in his hand. He gave a short gasp and ran his hand over the emperor's red hair. "Dearest...he is suspicious," he said, as if he was his fiancé. Caracalla slapped the thigh of the man laying next to him, laughing, and Arsames recognized the gilded tooth gleaming in the light of the candles. There was also the sound of rippling water in which spotted koi swam.

He tried to remain calm and not let anything show. Caracalla looked at him for a while until he cleared his throat and bit his lip. "Join us. Show us what you learned in Persia," he said, chuckling and tapping his hand on the blanket next to him. Arsame's stomach tightened with a feeling he couldn't interpret. His eyes twitched back and forth and his hands trembled behind his back. It seemed like he was feeling everything life had to offer at that moment. The surge of adrenaline made his knees weak and he looked at Caracalla with his eyes wide open. "My Emperor, It looks like I'm going to have to disappoint you because these are not the kind of games you learn there...," he began, but he only clicked his tongue. "Oh, that wasn't a request," he replied with a wry smile.

Arsames was that intelligent. He should have known that. He wasn’t in Persia anymore.

Hesitantly, he stepped closer to the bed, hardly knowing what to do next. One of the concubines must have seen it because he stood up and began to run his hand over Arsames’ body, which was still in the noble robe. Caracalla merely grinned with his thin lips abd the Persian couldn't help but let out a nervous and wheezing laugh. "Don't be afraid. You're not...," Caracalla began, stopping in the middle of his words to look at Arsames calmly under the light of the candles, "undesirable."

He swallowed hard. The concubine behind him whispered in his ear, "Have you ever satisfied an emperor?" he asked sensually, letting his lips brush against his ears. Arsames jerked and gasped. "No, I...," he began, stammering, hardly daring to look into the eyes of the red-haired man in front of him. He leaned back and watched Arsame's uncertainty in front of him. "Then let me show you..."

He took his hand and guided it over the exposed skin of his freewheeling shoulders. Caracalla looked at him, again with that absorbed look, as if considering.

“Do…you have names?,” Arsames asked suddenly and the two other concubines looked at him. The one who was still lingering behind him replied, "I am Nonus. This is Javaran and Seneca."

Seneca, who had been lying on his stomach until then, rose and sat on his knees, took Arsames' hand in his and let it slide down Caracalla's upper body under his guidance. He swallowed hard, his hand trembling. This did not go unnoticed by Seneca and he hissed calmly.

Now it was Caracalla who moved his hand to Arsames’ cheek. He let his thumb glide over the bone. "Pretty face you have...," he said, his thumb slowly running over his lower lips. "I wonder what kind of damage those lips could do," he muttered, more to himself than to him. Arsames couldn't help the twitching of the corners of his mouth.

"Don't you want to take this off?," Javaran asked, pulling at the robe. Arsames shook his head cautiously. "I prefer to keep it on...," he said honestly and while the others looked disappointed, Caracalla's eyes sparkled with a little less understanding. "A pity...," his voice rang out and his upper body straightened. Arsames swallowed the lump in his throat. Meanwhile, Javaran and Nonus cuddled up to the emperor and nibbled on his neck.

‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ ⋆☾⋆ ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾

During this time, you tossed and turned in your bed. It was soft and well made, but it was the thoughts that kept you awake, as they had done for weeks. You stood up and put your face in your hands. The door to the next room, where Helena had slept, was open - just as you had asked.

Slowly, your bare feet touched the floor and you walked out onto the terrace with the shawl you had pulled over your shoulders. You looked down into the garden of the palace. In other circumstances, this view would have been an enrichment that you would not have wanted to miss. A tranquil pond with water lilies reflected the blue light of the moon, while small torches shone along the walkways. Magnificent statues stood surrounded by dense greenery and flowers.

Your eyes looked up to the towering Colosseum, where the games would be inaugurated tomorrow in honor of your family's arrival and the union between you and Geta. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and looked up at the enormous building. What would it be like to sit there among the cheering crowd? You leaned your upper body over the site, drew in the night air and closed your eyes. With all these thoughts, you realized that sleeping was no longer an option.

Suddenly, under the pale glow of the moon, a single rider pushed through the gates of the garden. The gentle snorting of his horse and the soft rustling of leaves reached you on the terrace.

The guards, clad in dark armor, sat around a small fire. They murmured among themselves about days gone by and the games to come.

When they caught sight of the rider, their voices fell silent. Their gazes followed him and some of their fingers instinctively clasped the hilts of their swords.

You gripped the terrain tensely as the rider - wrapped in a dark cloak, turned to the guards. His eyes rested coldly on the soldiers, his expression impassive, as if he knew his arrival was not to be questioned. Then they recognized him in the glow of the fire. You narrowed your eyes, but barely saw his face, which still lingered under the pulled-down hood.

The wind carried the soft creak of leather as he dismounted his impatient, stamping horse. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but curious as you were, you let yourself off the grounds, closing past Helena's room. Slowly, you stepped through your door and walked down the white stairs to the hall, which was still covered in traces of the festivities.

You waited a moment until you heard quick and almost aggressive footsteps on the marbled floor. The man standing in the middle of the hall had now removed his hood from his face and under his brown cloak you recognized a long sword and ornate armor.

You flinched as you saw the figure of Geta approaching the stranger and the guards. He had only a black cloak with gold ornaments around his body. You scrutinized him and saw the exposed skin of his upper body. You knew you probably shouldn't be down here and your curiosity had gotten you into trouble many times before. Often you had heard things that were not meant for your ears.

Accompanied by Praetorians, her future husband now stood there, rubbing his eyes wearily. "“I hope, General Acacius, you have a good excuse. Emperor Geta had some other matters to attend to," declared Numerius, his father's old friend and company. He was still strolling around the court. Geta raised his hand. "I can speak for myself Numerius," he snapped annoyed and now looked with sparkling eyes at the black-haired, older general. "Where's my brother?," Geta shouted, his breaking voice making your knees go weak. "Don't just stand there. Go get him!"

Slowly you moved further behind the shadows of the towering pillar. The emperor stroked his tired eyes again and then looked at Acacius.

This man was, you had to admit, handsome. His black beard, thick and carefully trimmed, was streaked with silver strands.

Deep, dark eyes looked at the emperor.

"Forgive me, Emperor Geta. But there were riots in the streets tonight. Mass fights and deaths too. They were incited...," he explained, standing still without moving a muscle. Geta rolled his eyes and slowly his brother trotted in, also wearing a white robe around his body. He looked confused and also angry at the general. "Have you got the man responsible?," Geta asked and Acacius nodded. "My men were able to catch him and…," he tried to explain, but Caracalla interrupted him. "Bring the troublemaker into the arena! Throw him into the arena! He shall be mauled by...by tigers...no. Hyenas! I want Hyenas!," he shouted, waving his hands around angrily. He clenched them into fists. "Or bring him here! I want to slit his throat myself! That ungrateful heathen! Burn him, peel the skin off his...bones!," his voice rang out and you shook your head as the emperor lost his composure. "That's enough! Caracalla!," Geta shouted and his voice broke.

You are startled by the loud sound and take a deep breath.

"With all due respect, my emperors. Perhaps we should clarify the causes of the uprising. The people seem to be hungry. Perhaps...," Acacius began and Geta interrupted him once more. "Then give them bread. The games will follow tomorrow...," he replied dryly, pressing his lips together.

"My brother has no head for the hungry. He's engaged," Caracalla said almost proudly, sounding as if he had already forgotten his freak-out. He looked at his brother. "I don’t care about this! I was…busy," he lamented and Caracalla shared his pain. Nevertheless, he grinned when his brother said this.

"Which one is it tonight? Aelia?," his brother asked as if they were alone.

You swallowed hard. He had concubines, of course. That shouldn't have been something that unsettled you. Before and during a marriage - at least that's how your mother Briseis explained it - it was normal for an emperor to have concubines.

Still, it did something to you, even though you weren't even a little bit attached to him.

"Enough," Geta now spoke.

Acacius nodded his head in understanding. "My men will take care of this matter."

You noticed the cold air as the guards and Praetorians present now ran out of the hall, followed by the general. The brothers looked at each other until Caracalla, followed by Numerius, disappeared behind the columns.

Geta lingered there alone, panting deeply. You couldn't help but watch him, without his make-up, glamorous robes. His hair fell into his face and he pulled his robe back over his shoulder.

You knew that you were not allowed to be here. The curiosity was gone, a fleeting moment of courage that now froze like ice in your veins.

Slowly you withdrew, careful not to make a sound. But then - a soft clang that cut through the hall.

Your blood froze. The small flower vase that you had carelessly touched lay in shards on the cool stone floor. The sound reverberated.

The emperor raised his head. Only his breathing could be heard in the silence - deep, deliberate.

Slowly, he stepped closer. His fingers stroked the silken curtains that danced gently in the night breeze. His gaze searched the shadows and you pressed yourself even closer to the wall. Your heart was beating so loudly that you felt as if he could hear it.

You swallowed hard, then - with a quick, silent step - you broke free and ran back up the stairs.

Geta already pulled aside the curtain but when his gaze looked into the darkness, he found only the broken shards on the floor.

‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾ ⋆☾⋆ ‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾‾

tag: @quuinyoung

[jonquilyst]

Day 6 - Challenge Day

I felt kinda bad taking everyone to a winter wonderland in summer, so for the third challenge I decided to take everyone to sunny, tropical Sulani! This is definitely more Marilyn and Josue's style 😎

In today's challenge, the teams will be taking turns diving for treasure! The value of each treasure collected by the contestants will be added up, and the team whose treasures are worth the most will win first class/invincibility!

Before we get into the challenge, though... I've got something else to cover 🤭

This challenge, we are introducing the season's immunity idol: a jonquilyst crystal! I have hidden the idol on one of the islands and told the contestants to look for it!

While the contestants search, allow me to tell you what the immunity idol exactly is:

The immunity idol protects the possessor from elimination should they receive the most votes in an elimination ceremony. It is valid up until the final 4 and should the immunity idol be used, the contestant with the second-most votes will be eliminated instead! There will only be 1 immunity idol, so whoever finds it will be very lucky...

Well, would you look at that! The immunity idol has been found, and it was found by Nite!

Congratulations, Nite! Should you ever get the most votes in an elimination ceremony, you will be protected! Keep that crystal safe! (And keep the fact that you have the idol safe too 😬)

Now, onto the challenge! Team Integrity was chosen to go first! Because Team Success is down a person, Team Integrity and Team Odyssey will be leaving one person out of the challenge. Team Integrity unanimously chose Matteo because of his shoulder injury, and so Matteo passed the time by drawing stars in the sand!

When everyone arrived at the diving spot, Estrello decided to smell Lucian's hair for some reason... Yea, alpha hair does look pretty soft, Estrello 😁

Team Success was next, and Espresso was nearly smacked in the face by Marilyn's flippers after she dived down 😌 Thankfully, Espresso is pretty forgiving and she harbors no hard feelings towards Marilyn

And last but not least, Team Odyssey, led by Ziggy, determinedly swam to find their treasure! They chose to leave Tomiko out, who decided to build a sand castle!

Wait... Elio, what are you still doing here? Your team went hours ago 😭 I guess Elio really likes this challenge...

RESULTS

Team Integrity

Alanna: Fingers of Sulani (§610) Avery: Fingers of Sulani (§140) Elio: Fingers of Sulani (§140) Estrello: Rock (§0) Lucian: Heart of Sulani (§185) Matteo: DNP Total Value: §1075

Team Success

Brendan: Fingers of Sulani (§130) Carson: Rock (§0) Espresso: Rock (§0) Josue: Rock (§0) Marilyn: Heart of Sulani (§185) Total Value: §315

Team Odyssey

Minato: Rock (§0) Nite: Eyes of Sulani (§60) Raylan: A treasureless "X" (§0) Tomiko: DNP Touma: Fingers of Sulani (§610) Ziggy: Rock (§0) Total Value: §670

TEAM INTEGRITY WINS!

Team Integrity manages to best Team Odyssey this round and takes the cake! Congratulations! You all earned access to first class and invincibility!

Team Odyssey, although you didn't win this time, you're still in 2nd place, meaning you're all safe from elimination as well 💜

And Team Success... Man, are you very much not successful! I will see you once again at the elimination ceremony!

That's not all that happened today, though! After everyone boarded the plane following the challenge, Minato started this season's first fire! It was Ziggy who was brave and put out the fire before anyone could get hurt. Nice job, Ziggy!

Today's Confessional: Estrello Pyre

"I'm so happy we won! We all did such a great job today, even though all I found was a worthless rock. Still, I think we deserve first class. I'm so excited to sleep in a cozy bed tonight; I think my muscles are gonna be sore after all that swimming!"

"But the fact that Team Success lost again? Man, that's rough... I'm in pretty tight with Espresso; I really hope she doesn't get eliminated!"

@lyratea @hellogreta @sanitysims @changingplumbob @paracosmic-sims

@riverofjazzsims @invisiblequeen @simsinfinitylt @simstagramsomeone

@aliengirl @matchalovertrait @kissalopa @bloomingkyras @kari-sims

@ravingsockmonkey  @nakasumi-sims @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants

[maeslastbraincell]

A heart full of love translation (from the new french Châtelet version)

For my own sanity : Marius, Cosette, Both, Eponine

A heart full of happiness (Le coeur au bonheur) (The literal translation would be "a heart to happiness" but I feel like it's not grammatically correct, but let me know!)

A heart in prayer (Le coeur en prière)

I'm scared to anger her (J'ai peur de la mettre en colère)

My God, forgive me, I do not even know your name (Mon Dieu pardon, je ne sais même pas votre nom)

Dear Mademoiselle (Chère Mademoiselle)

I am mad (Je suis fou)

How beautiful she is (Qu'elle est belle)

A heart full of happiness (Le coeur au bonheur)

Tell me who you are (Dites-moi qui vous êtes)

My name is Marius Pontmercy (Je m'appelle Marius Pontmercy)

And I, Cosette (Et moi Cosette)

Cosette, I cannot find the words (Cosette je ne trouve pas les mots)

Don't say a thing (Ne dites rien)

My heart trembles (Mon coeur tremble)

As does mine (Comme le mien)

A heart in exctasy (Le coeur en extase)

During one night (L'espace d'une nuit)

Flower of the garden of Heaven (Fleur au jardin du Paradis)

Cosette, Cosette

Are you the prince I was waiting for? (Êtes-vous le prince que j'attendais?)

It is a dream (C'est un rêve)

No, it's true (Non, c'est vrai)

A heart full of hapiness (Le coeur au bonheur)

No, he was not mine (Non il n'était pas pour moi)

A heart full of you (Le coeur plein de toi)

I have nothing to regret (Je n'ai rien à regretter) I knew at first sight (Je savais au premier regard)

At the first night (Au premier soir)

He will never tell me (Il ne me dira jamais)

Those words (Ces mots-là)

I hoped (J'espérais)

Not to me, not to me (Pas à moi, pas à moi)

I waited (J'attendais)

And it's all like a dream (Et c'est tout comme un rêve) His heart full of happiness (Son coeur au bonheur)

More than a dream (Plus qu'un rêve) That will not beat (Qui ne battra pas)

You and me (Toi et moi) Not for me (Pas pour moi)

[into-the-hellaverse]

Charlie's Bad Day

For @lilacwriter07 ! If you don't like this one, blame them (that is a joke please don't be mean to them. They gave me good ideas.)

Part of The Bad Day series!

p.s. I take commissions. Visit @asmerlotus for more info

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

Adam was an...interesting man, from Charlie's perspective. He always bragged about being the First Man, not just in Eden, but in Heaven as well. He would brag about his family, his wife and children, the girls who begged to sleep with him, anything and everything under the sun that would put him on top. So seeing him at the doors of the hotel, soaked by the blood and acid rainstorm, was a shocking surprise.

Her gut told her no, to turn him away. He spent thousands of years murdering the people of her kingdom, tried to start another war because of her hotel... But if Adam wanted to change, if he was capable of redemption, then surely everyone would be capable of redemption, right?

She let him in and dried him off, fixing his minor burns from the acid rain (must've been pretty tame that day since he didn't completely melt), and gave him a room in a more quiet hallway.

"I figured you'd like the peace and quiet," she told him, showing him the small room.

"I, uhh, don't want to sound rude, but..." Adam started. "Ya got anything bigger?"

"Sorry, but no," she told him sheepishly. "This is the biggest room we have, aside from mine and Vaggie's room. And...can't exactly let you stay there, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah... Thanks, um..." He trailed off.

"You can call me Charlie!" She told him with a smile.

"That...feels a little personal. It's not like we're exactly friends after everything that happened, Morningstar..."

Charlie smiled brightly at him. "Morningstar works! Until you feel comfortable with Charlie."

Adam just nodded. He seemed so distant at the time. "Yeah..."

Charlie had stood there awkwardly, and she remembered how she tried to inch away towards the door. "I'll...let you get settled in..." And then, she left him for the night. She went up to her room and talked with Vaggie, able to convince her this was a good decision and if they could get him redeemed, then Heaven could finally take them seriously. They just had to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days passed slowly and Charlie watched Adam get warmed up to everyone. He would frequent the bar and talk to Husk and Angel, he'd fight with Vaggie (for fun. For some reason they really like to try and stab each other.) He even found a way to get along with Alastor, somehow. He somewhat avoided Lucifer, and that made her a little upset.

"You can only change your future if you can fix your past," she told him as she led him up to Lucifer's tower. "If you can bury the hatchet with my dad, then the path of redemption will be a piece of cake."

"I don't think I can just 'bury the hatchet' with your dad, Morningstar," Adam tried to protest. "What he did..."

"A-dud-dud-dud-dud-duh! No passing the blame. You messed up, he messed up, forgive and forget!" She handed him a bouquet of white lilies, her dad's favorite flowers, and harshly knocked on his door before rushing off.

She turned a corner at the end of the hallway and peeked out slightly, watching her father open the door and stare in shock at the sight of Adam. Adam handed over the flowers, they talked for a moment or two, and Lucifer gently pulled him into the room. Once the door clicked shut, Charlie smiled and did a little victory dance. "HELL YEAH!"

"SHUT UP, I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few weeks, but Adam and Lucifer grew close. They hung out a lot and went out on the town together, they shared dinner, they would cuddle real close in the little sitting area they had in the lobby. Right next to the fireplace, with KeeKee trapped on their laps with lovings and all the pets in the world. Everything seemed perfect. Charlie knew he wanted to be redeemed, but she almost hoped he would stay in hell. They could be like a perfect little family...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie was hanging out with Vaggie at the front desk, talking about a few random things when someone got their attention.

"Oh! Hello!" She smiled and gave them her full attention.

"Yeah, I, uhh, heard you guys help people get redeemed?" The Sinner asked.

Charlie tried to hold back her excitement. "Mhm! It's what we do at the Hazbin Hotel!"

"So, you're wanting to be redeemed?" Vaggie asked, pulling out a book to keep track of the guests at the hotel.

"Yes! Well, I wanna try at least..."

"Wonderful!" Charlie piped up. "Can we get your name for our records?"

"Oh, it's Cameron."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The atmosphere seemed to shift after Cameron arrived. Everyone seemed...tense, would probably be the best way to describe it.

"There's something off about that kid..." Husk told her soon after he arrived.

"He gives off a creepy vibe," Angel said to one day.

"He seems kinda sleazy," Vaggie told her before they went to bed one night. "We shouldn't have taken him in."

"He's a total bad boy." Nifty wasn't really helpful.

Charlie tried to placate everyone. Everyone down here is sleazy or gives off a "creepy vibe", and that's why they come to the hotel. To better themselves and their future.

But even Charlie seemed put off when Cameron started hitting on her dad. He would always get too close, and Lucifer would always make an excuse to leave.

She'd have to talk to him about personal space and boundaries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why would he do this?!"

"I'm sure it was an accident, Charlie."

"How is setting your hair on fire an accident?!"

Adam was causing a lot of trouble. More than what he was worth, honestly. He had broken their prized chandelier, trashed the front yard, and this was the fourth time someone had gotten caught on fire because of him.

"Look, Charlie. I've known Adam for centuries," Vaggie said, pulling her now-short hair back into a tiny ponytail. "He's not the kind of person to just do that stuff to people he respects."

"So he doesn't respect us? Is that what you're saying?"

"No- Charlie-" She paused and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "When Adam was leading the exterminations, he saw us as equals. We weren't just mindless soldiers. He treated all of us with care and respect, because we were on the same level as him. And now he is on the same level as us. He wouldn't do this kind of stuff. Someone else is probably doing it and framing him."

"No one in the hotel would do that kind of thing!" Charlie yelled.

"....Cameron might..."

"He would not! He's a total sweetheart!" Charlie defended. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Charlie, you've seen the way he acts around your dad. It's like he has a crush- No, obsession with him," Vaggie explained, cleaning up the small mess from the impromptu haircut. "He might be trying to get Adam out of the way to get with your dad."

"That's gross, Vaggie. I don't even want to hear it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie considered herself a patient person. She was incredibly forgiving, but this... This crossed a line.

She had no clue how she slept through it all, but Adam had somehow destroyed the entire lobby. The counters were destroyed, the carpet was ripped up, broken glass and torn wood everywhere, and everything that couldn't be destroyed was ruined with gold spray paint.

"Yay! Clean clean clean!" Nifty had seemingly pulled a broom out of her ass and started sweeping up the mess with lightning speed.

"He broke my Glen McKenna! How did he even get to that shit?! I kept it in a safe for a reason!"

Lucifer looked around at the destruction. "Holy shit..."

"Charlie, I know what you're thinking," Vaggie started. "But Adam-"

"Don't, Vaggie..." Charlie said, staring at the destruction.

Adam had mercilessly slaughtered her people for thousands of years, insulted her to her face, and when she decided to graciously take him in instead of throwing him out to the street, this was how he repaid her kindness?

"I don't like that look on your face, Charlie," Vaggie started. "Babe, just tell me what's on your mind."

"Believe me, Charlie. I'm pissed at Adam, too," Lucifer started. "But I think you need to go calm down. Just go upstairs and rest. You don't want to make any rash decisi-"

Charlie didn't wait for him to finish. She turned and walked over to Adam, who standing in the middle of everything looking dazed and confused. She stopped in front of him, glaring for a moment or two. She knew she had to choose her next words carefully.

“Adam,” she said, unnaturally calm. “I want to help you. I really do. But this-” She paused and gestured to the lobby. “Has crossed so many lines. I have treated you with kindness, compassion, generosity, trust, and respect. And this… this is what you do with it… I want you out of here by tonight. No excuses, no exceptions…” She turned and walked up the stairs, followed quickly by Vaggie.

"Charlie, you need to go apologize to Adam," Vaggie said as she followed her.

"Why should I have to apologize to Adam for what he did?!"

"Because you were out of line, Charlie!" Vaggie yelled, grabbing Charlie's wrist and stopping her in her tracks. "Adam didn't do this!"

"Why are you defending that bastard?!" Charlie yelled, ripping her arm away.

"Because I know him better than you! And I know he wouldn't do anything like this!"

"You can't keep making excuses for him!" Charlie said, turning and walking away from her.

"I'm not making excuses! Charlie! CHARLIE!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charlie had finally calmed down by noon and gotten changed into her suit, heading back to the lobby. Everything seemed to be in perfect condition, like the destruction never happened. Nifty was humming happily as she finished cleaning up the last of the spray paint.

"All clean!"

Charlie gave her a tired smile. "Thanks, Nifty," she said, petting the top of her head. "Hey, Cam!"

Cameron waved her off as he left the bar, having taken a half-full bottle of wine. "Yeah, Claire. They all fell for it."

Charlie raised an eyebrow and started to follow him.

"Yeah, they did! They thought he did it! I knew my plan would work!"

"What?!" Charlie exclaimed.

Cameron turned around, wide eyed and nervous. "Fuck... Claire, I gotta go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Charlie, how can you be so hypocritical?!"

"I'm not being hypocritical!"

Charlie and Vaggie fought from time to time, but they never had fights that lasted weeks on end.

"Charlie, you thought Adam did all of that shit, you kick him out. Cameron actually did it, framed it on Adam, and all you did was give him a stern talking to!"

"Because Cameron is a good person at heart!"

"Adam already is a good person, Charlie! The only reason he came down here is because he killed a bunch of people!"

"My people, Vaggie! He killed my people!"

"So your treating him like garbage because he did what was ordered of him?!"

"YES!"

Vaggie stared at her in disbelief, her silence hanging heavy in the air. "Do you hate me for it?"

Charlie crossed her arms. She didn't want to say. "....sometimes...."

Vaggie said nothing and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alastor," Charlie asked as she walked up to him. "Have you seen Vaggie?"

"Why are you asking, my dear?"

"Well, we had a terrible fight last week and I wanted to apologize, but I can't find her." Charlie looked away, seeming embarrassed by the way she acted.

"Oh, right. She left a few days ago," Alastor said simply.

"She left?" Charlie asked in disbelief.

"Yes. And she wanted me to give this to you," He handed her a note and walked away.

Charlie held the not in shaky hands. She didn't want to read it. She didn't want her fears to be true. But she knew she had to.

"Charlie,

For the longest time, it felt like we were perfect for each other. I thought you were my forever person, my soulmate. But ever since Cameron arrived, you've changed. You used to be so kind and welcoming, but now you harbor so much hate it your heart, it's disgusting. I can't stand to be around you, and now, I know you don't even want to be around me.

I hope you can redeem yourself.

-Vaggie"

Charlie felt tears well up in her eyes. This wasn't real. This was just a dream.

A really, really bad dream...

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Not Letting Go" – Part 3

Marshall slid the notebook across the table, his fingers lingering on the edges for a second before he let go. You stared at it, hesitant, your heart hammering in your chest.

"What is it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled, running a hand over his face before meeting your gaze. "Something I started in rehab," he admitted. "Letters. To you. To Hailie. To myself."

Your breath caught. You hesitated before picking it up, flipping through the pages. The handwriting was messy, rushed in places, but the words…

"I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But I have to get better. For her. For me. For Hailie."

"I can still hear her voice telling me she can’t do this anymore. I don’t blame her. But I wish she knew how much I love her. How much I hate the person I became."

"Six weeks sober. First time I’ve gone this long without pills in years. Feels like I’m crawling out of my own grave. But I see her in my dreams, and I remember why I’m doing this."

Tears burned your eyes as you closed the notebook, pressing it against your lap like it was too much to hold. You could barely look at him. "Why didn’t you send these?"

Marshall swallowed hard. "Because I wasn’t ready to ask you to believe in me again. Not until I knew I wouldn’t let you down."

Your chest ached at his words.

For so long, you had convinced yourself that walking away was the only way to survive. That loving him was an impossible war—one where you were always the one bleeding. But here he was, sober, clear-eyed, fighting. Not just for you, but for himself.

You let out a shaky breath. "I don’t know if I can just… jump back into this, Marshall."

"I know," he said quickly, leaning forward. "I don’t expect you to. I just need you to know I’m here. I’m staying clean. And I’ll wait. For as long as it takes."

The sincerity in his voice made your walls crack, just a little.

You stared at the notebook in your hands, your fingers brushing over the worn edges. A part of you still wanted to run—to protect yourself from the possibility of getting hurt again. But another part? Another part wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this time was different.

Finally, you met his gaze.

"Okay," you whispered. "Then show me."

Marshall exhaled, relief washing over his face, but he didn’t push. He didn’t try to reach for you, didn’t demand more than you were ready to give. He just nodded.

"I will," he promised.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself hope.

[gauzemer]

Chapter 2: Soap

Jason comes in through the Cave, hoping to avoid Alfred, and obviously fails, because Alfred has eyes everywhere all the time in perpetuity. He’s lying in wait in the garage entrance with the vehicles– “You’re not wearing your helmet,” he says lightly, but disappointment is all but radiating off of him.

“It makes me look stupid,” Jason tosses back. Tough shit. Alfred’s been disappointed in him ever since he first came back. This is just… how they are now, he supposes. It’s fine. He’s not bitter. “Where is everyone?”

Alfred wordlessly gestures deeper into the Batcave, and Jason starts to follow the motion in that direction when he’s quietly interrupted. “How are you handling the news?”

He stops. “The news about Ra’s?”

“Unless there’s something I’m not privy to.”

Jason feels his shoulders fall. Memory weighs heavy on him now– or perhaps it’s all the time since he returned that they’ve spent not forgiving each other. “It’s weird,” he finally says, trying to make sure his voice doesn’t echo through the interior of the cave. “I didn’t think he was the type to off himself.”

Alfred doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His silence speaks volumes. Jason rolls his eyes, an imaginary conversation already moving in his mind. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, turning away. “Shut up.”

He finds Dick and Bruce at the assembly of computer monitors, Bruce in his suit and Dick in street clothes– one of them quickly dismisses what might be an image of Ra’s al Ghul’s body, but it’s gone before Jason can tell. “I wasn’t sure I should expect you,” Bruce says by way of greeting. He’s not smiling. “You came to get your mail?”

Jason nods towards the screen and shoves his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “Well, Dick said I could see the autopsy photos.”

“Yeah, they’re gross,” Dick tells him enthusiastically. “He’s all bloated.”

“Can we try to be respectful?”

“Maybe if he hadn’t tried to kill us so many times,” Jason mutters as he takes a seat, but Dick’s face settles back into a serious neutrality. “Fine, yeah. Whatever. What’s the autopsy say?”

“Excessive fluid in the lungs,” Bruce tells him, pulling up the details– and not, Jason notes, the image they were looking at before he stepped in. It’s full of jargon he’s usually on the practical end of. Bruce continues. “And I do mean excessive fluid– the autopsy classifies the cause of death as a noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. It suggests that our victim was trying to breathe in as much water as he could.”

“Ra’s,” Jason interrupts, squinting at the screen as he turns that piece of information over in his head. Something doesn’t feel right about this. A lot doesn’t feel right about this, but something about that, specifically, especially doesn’t feel right. “You don’t have to be so clinical, Bruce. I’m pretty sure you two were on a first-name basis.”

Bruce shoots him a piercing look. Jason stares back. After a while, Dick tries to break the tension by clearing his throat. “So do we want to talk about that, or…”

Jason doesn’t answer. He’s still looking at the screen. “I’m not squeamish,” he finally says. “I won’t freak out. Can I see his lungs?”

Bruce tries to exchange a glance with Dick, but Dick doesn’t look back, already pulling up the images from the autopsy. It’s just like he says– the lungs, now free of al Ghul’s chest and resting indecently in a medical container, are ghostly-white with water decay. “Do you have a theory?” Bruce asks as he pulls up a 3d representation of the lungs for them to examine.

“I might.” It’s not a question of whether or not he has a theory, it’s just a question of whether or not he wants to share that theory with the class. It’s a question of whether or not they’ll understand. He taps his nails absentmindedly against the bottom of the table. “Who found him?”

He’s stalling. Bruce starts speaking about the composition of al Ghul’s security detail, but Jason isn’t listening, too busy spinning his wheels in deep mud. Memory presents itself: one of the first nights of his new life, so many years ago, when he was a guest of al Ghul’s, when he could do nothing but shiver under the blankets of a fine bed with the bone-deep chill of death.

Thinking had been difficult. His brain had started to rot, he’d found out later, the fine tissue already breaking down when he’d been brought back, and though the Lazarus Pit could put it to rights again, it could not fill him with thought or purpose. He had been little more than a corpse that could breathe in those first nights, void of anything that might once have been his humanity. It had been terrifying and miserable, a prelude to so much more terror and misery to come, but there had been strange kindness, too: in the dead of night, unaccompanied by bodyguard or daughter, Ra’s had paid him a visit.

He hadn’t seen it as a kindness at the time, of course. Even half-alive, Jason had held nothing but contempt for Ra’s al Ghul. All he could do when the man came through the door and pulled out the chair from the desk was tremble with what he hoped was a defiant air and try to burrow deeper in the blankets. He hadn’t even been able to tell Ra’s to fuck off.

Ra’s had watched his pitiful display for a moment before discarding a hardcover book on the desk he had taken the chair from. “It gets better,” the man had said lowly. “I have seen you in the daylight, Robin. You are a fighter. I know this.”

Jason had bared his teeth at the title, but he’d been unable to look away as Ra’s choreographed a slow motion that ended with his hand on the covers of the bed. “I have been where you are now,” he said, his eyes gleaming like a housecat’s in the firelight. “I promise you, Jason, there is nothing to fight. All is as it should be.”

Jason hadn’t believed him, of course. He’d wanted to spit, to scream, to flee this terrible place– but Ra’s had only picked up the book from the table and, in an unwavering, gentle voice, started to read. “‘It was a dark and stormy night,’” he began smoothly. “‘In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind.’”

Jason had known those lines, and he’d almost wept with the familiarity of the story. He had clung to Meg like she was real, like she was watching over him, thorny and determined. It had hurt less than the reality of knowing he was alone

He had lost himself in the cadence of al Ghul’s voice, letting it break over him like the waters at the edge of the Pit, and it had taken him almost a full chapter to realize what was right in front of him: Ra’s was pausing appropriately for periods and commas, but he wasn’t stopping for breath. Jason had focused on that, too, as his shivering gradually subsided, just to confirm what could not be possible, just to come to the conclusion that, indeed, it was.

Ra’s wasn’t breathing.

Now, under the drone of Bruce’s voice echoing through the cave, he looks over al Ghul’s lungs, bathed in blue hologram lighting. Ra’s shouldn’t have drowned like this. He would have had to consciously decide to take on water, and while Jason’s chest aches in sympathy, he knows that just taking on water shouldn’t have killed him, either.

That’s the thing about the Pit, the thing that made Ra’s so uniquely terrified of growing old– it doesn’t fix the body, not really. It just makes it work again. It’s like taking a car to the world’s worst mechanic: they don’t buff out the dents, they don’t put gas in the tank. They stop the engine from wheezing without opening up the hood.

The car might work, but actually un-wrecking it takes time.

The bruises in Jason’s brain took weeks to heal, but the Lazarus Pit kept him alive, brought him back slowly and agonizingly from the brink of dissolution and held him there until the cliff’s edge stabilized beneath him. His bones knitted back together, his blood cells replenished. Nevermind the fact that he treated breathing as a voluntary activity; if he was submerged in the waters of the Lazarus Pit, Ra’s al Ghul could not have died of a noncardiogenic pulmonary edema. He couldn’t have died of anything.

“Jason?”

“I’m here,” he says, almost before he knows what he’s responding to. Right. Bruce has been talking. “Sorry. Yeah, this is…”

He has information– but he doesn’t voice it. If the great Batman hasn’t realized by now that Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to breathe, then really, what can Jason do to convince him otherwise? He shrugs. “It’s weird. I don’t know, sorry.”

“You said you had a theory?”

“I thought I did,” Jason half answers. It’s not technically a lie. He shrugs. “I guess not. Can I have my mail?”

Bruce glowers at him suspiciously, but Jason’s played this game before. He’s very good at keeping his face neutral. Pain’s a great teacher. “You don’t know anything that could help us?”

“Nope.” He pops the P and leans back in his chair. “Nothing.”

Bruce’s expression doesn’t change, but he nevertheless produces a heavy, wax-sealed envelope and slides it down the table. Jason takes it– there’s no address, of course, but that’s his name spelled out unmistakably in al Ghul’s fine calligraphy. He checks, but there’s nothing else on the envelope, so he runs his thumb under the wax seal and opens it up to find a piece of thick paper inside.

The letter is similarly unadorned, save for a series of numbers and letters that Jason immediately recognizes as coordinates. There is no greeting, no explanation. Were it not for the fact that he so easily recognizes the handwriting, the letter would be entirely anonymous. “Huh,” he says out loud. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“What–”

“Coordinates,” he answers, because Dick is going to catch fire if he gets any more curious. “Bats, can you pull these up?”

Jason rattles them off, and the hologram of al Ghul’s bloated lungs disappears, replaced by a map that swoops in on a tiny town in Gilliam County, Oregon. It’s little more than a few shelters built around what appears to be a running creek and miles of rural roads that drift aimlessly through deadwood forests. There’s nothing here that screams ‘I’m hiding the world-ending plot of a six hundred year old mastermind, gentlemen, come and get it!’ There’s nothing here that screams at all– and if there were, the houses seem too far apart for any of the neighbors to hear. “Maybe he left you property,” Dick jokes. “You know, some nice riverside real estate.”

Bruce stares up at the map with him, the little of his face that’s visible bathed in ghostly blue light. “You don’t need me to tell you this is a trap.”

Jason squints for a name, and finally finds it: Thirtymile. “Oh, definitely.”

Bruce looks over at him, entirely unamused. “Then I don’t need to tell you that you shouldn’t go.”

Jason frowns dramatically, and just barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. “You’re such a killjoy.”

“Jason–”

“Ra’s is dead,” he reminds Bruce, still looking up at the map. His eyes burn against the side of Jason’s head. God, this is always easier with the hood on. “And I’m sure Talia’s too busy to deal with me right now.”

“Are you willing to gamble on that?”

Jason grins wolfishly, and Dick groans. “Oh, god.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” Bruce is catching on now. He looks almost off-guard with surprise. “No, it’s– Jason, this is a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it is.” He gets up, still grinning, and playfully salutes the table. “See you guys in a week or so, I guess!”

“Jason!”

It’s too late. He’s already heading back to the mouth of the cave, putting his earbuds in and pressing play. Pipe organ rushes through his brain as he gets back on his bike, displacing Bruce’s voice: “There's all this dirt under my nails / Wouldn't you like to see where I went to high school? / Blood under my knuckles / You should've heard the way I spoke last night.”

The door groans open, but Jason’s gone into the cold Gotham evening before it’s stopped moving. His bike rumbles under him as he speeds away, starting back to his apartment to pack a bag and find his wallet.

He doesn’t look back– he never does. He’s always been good at making an exit.

I'll Eat You Up (I Love You So)

Chapter 1: Feel Better

Summary: Ra's al Ghul's body is found under extremely fuckin' weird circumstances. Jason is normal about it. 2197 words.

Somewhere deep and forgotten in the reaches of the Swiss Alps, the snarling Head of the Demon, the dreaded Ra’s al Ghul, is writing a letter.

It is not the first letter he has written tonight, but he is fast approaching the end of the matter, and he knows with certainty that this letter will be the last. It will join the stack of fine stationery he has created on his desk, and it will be found in the morning, after the alarms have sounded, after his security detail has searched the compound, after he has disappeared in earnest. It is all arranged. The letters are the last piece of the jigsaw image, and they fit neatly into the hole that Ra’s perpetual life will leave.

Talia is prepared for her role as the grieving heir apparent, but even so, hers is the letter at the bottom of the stack, the ink now fully dried. There is a letter to young Damian Wayne, so that he will understand when he is older, when the time comes. There is a letter to the boy’s father, Bruce, who Ra’s was never able to sway– he does not trouble himself to attempt the feat now. The time for it is long since past, the letter likewise already finely sealed. Ra’s could not take the sentiment back now if he tried.

Besides, he does not need understanding from the Wayne family. Not anymore.

Ra’s slips his fine pen back into its inkwell and studies what he has written upon this final and most crucial letter even as he prepares the wax for its seal. There is much he wishes to say, but there are eyes upon him, both in this compound and in this delicate world. This will have to do.

He does not doubt his decision. He has not always been a good man, he knows, both by way of being more and less than good and likewise more and less than a man, but in this, at least, he has done right. He nods to himself, and then he pours the wax, closes the letter, and stamps the envelope simply with his signet ring as it cools. 

There. He places it gingerly upon the pile with the other letters. The work of six hundred years, finally done.

Ra’s taps the letters together and gets up from his fine desk chair. Yes. The work is done– and now, there is only one task remaining. For a moment, he stands in silence and watches the wild snow whirl past the window, blanketing the compound in pure droves. He does not breathe. He does not blink. After six hundred years on the fine and leveled face of this world, he is at last able to think of nothing at all.

And then, as he leaves the room, one final thought presents itself: that it is a good night to drown.

Under the heavy, foreboding clouds of Gotham, a tinny bass guitar rumbles and crashes out of a phone speaker in a shitty apartment, and the room’s sole occupant sings along  to the best of his ability as the introduction ends: “I don’t wanna feel better /”

This is, of course, Jason Todd, dressed in his boxer shorts and doing his best to make a smoothie out of whatever the hell he’s found in his freezer. Most of the food he’s pulling out is in plastic bags, and it’s all too covered in ice to really discern the shape of, so it’s a very slow process, and it’s not going well. He’s currently trying to tell if this latest item is cooked chicken or pieces of banana.

Shit. Oh, god, he really can’t tell, but he’s got a fifty-fifty shot, right?

“No one’s ever gonna love me like that again / I don’t wanna get over it / I wanna sit with you–”

“Hang on,” Jason mutters to himself, pausing the music so he can consider the contents of this bag more seriously. Whatever it is, it’s been cut into little discs, which implies that it’s a banana, but it could also be some of Alfred’s really fancy chicken that he stole a few weeks ago. Jason frowns.

He still empties the bag into the blender.

He’s examining what’s probably a bag of strawberries when his phone pings with Dick’s ringtone. He doesn’t check it at first, not until it pings again, and then with Tim’s ringtone, and then with Bruce’s, all in quick succession– the family group chat is raucous with recent activity when he finally abandons his smoothie to look.

DGrayson: I have news

DGrayson: Starting a video call I need everyone to be so extremely cool right now

RDrake: I’m cool I’m cool what’s up

BWayne: Ra’s al Ghul is dead.

What the fuck? Jason stares at the screen for a long time waiting for someone to tell him fucking anything else, but no one does. He opens Dick’s video call.

Tim is, predictably, already losing his shit, and has, predictably, angled his phone camera so that everyone can see up his nose. Jason steps in halfway through him freaking out. “–fucking way. There’s no way, this has to be a– a trick or something, there’s–”

He turns off his microphone and lets Tim finish his thought as he closes up the blender and presses the button to start it. “Like, have we gotten the autopsy report? Do we know anything except where he was found?”

Bruce and Dick seem to be coming in from different rooms of the house, with Bruce in front of his display in the cave, and Dick coming in from… his old room, maybe? He’s clearly using his laptop, because his microphone is shit. “Tim, can you cool it?”

“I’m cool! I’m so cool!” 

Jason’s smoothie is about as smoothie-d as it’s going to get, so he turns off the blender and activates his microphone. “What happened?” he cuts in, because he’s clearly the only one who’s capable of taking this seriously right now, nevermind that he’s in his boxers. He puts his phone down on the counter and angles it so everyone can only see his top half, anyway. “S’this a power play? Is there someone new we need to be worried about?”

Bruce’s face might be carved in stone, but he’s wearing a very strange expression, and he doesn’t answer for a minute. In his absence, Dick takes point. “It looks,” he says carefully, “like it was a suicide.”

That shuts Tim up, but Jason only squints. Hm. “You guys aren’t convinced, though.”

Bruce’s expression gets weirder. He still doesn’t say anything, though, so Dick continues, his voice still oddly careful. “His security detail found him floating dead in a Pit yesterday morning.”

Oh, yeah. That’s why they’re being weird– mystery solved. Jason starts looking for a clean cup to pour his smoothie into. “Isn’t that kind of like blowing your brains out with a hairdryer?”

Over the camera, Bruce’s neutral expression splits into confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Because you’d, like, put it to your head, but it’s a hairdryer, so you’d…” He stops just shy of demonstrating. “It doesn’t work, is what I’m saying.”

Everyone is staring. “What?”

“Jason,” Bruce says levelly, “can you please put some clothes on?”

Jason grumbles, but that’s a pretty fair request, all things considered, so he turns off his camera and goes to find some pants. He can hear Tim through the phone, still trying to puzzle everything out. “Do you think maybe someone, like, hurt him and he tried to get the Pit to bring him back?”

“The official autopsy found water in his lungs,” Bruce tells him as Jason opens the door to his bedroom. Paper rustles over the phone. “Quite a bit of water, actually, but I’ve checked the report. All the evidence points to death by drowning.”

“Which shouldn’t be possible,” Dick clarifies. “Right?”

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Bruce echoes pensively. “It shouldn’t be possible at all.”

Jason picks up a pair of worn jeans from the floor and starts to put them on. There’s a spattering of blood around the hem of the left leg, but that’ll probably come out with some bleach. It’s fine. He’s able to take advantage of a quick lull in the conversation. “Why do we think it was a suicide, anyway?”

“Because he left notes.”

Shit, that’s pretty convincing. Jason makes his way back to the kitchen. “Which I assume we know because we got one?”

“Yes, I got one.” Paper rustles again, and Jason checks his screen just in time to see Bruce hold up a wax-sealed envelope. “So did you.”

Jason turns his camera back on so they can have this conversation face to face– or, at least, as face-to-face as the phone will allow. “We weren’t penpals or anything,” he preempts, but Bruce’s face only grows stonier. Jason rolls his eyes, but he thinks back, considering. “If you’ll recall, Bruce, we’re not exactly on speaking– wow, I haven’t talked to him in years.”

Ra’s is– was, apparently– a weird guy. Impeccably put together (and maybe responsible for Jason’s post-resurrection bisexual identity crisis), but also six hundred years old and obsessed with wiping out most of the planet, so, yeah, pretty weird. Their relationship, or whatever it was, could probably best be defined as ‘cordial,’ like a father towards his daughter’s boyfriend, except the daughter in question was an ancient, toxic fountain of youth. Pretty standard stuff.

Scratch that, actually. That makes it sound like Jason was sleeping with the Lazarus Pit. Gross. Reiterated: for several reasons, gross.

Jason opens the cabinet, wrinkling his nose a little at the thought, and pours his smoothie into a cup that’s mostly clean, just a little dusty. It’s weird thinking that Ra’s is gone, especially in light of the circumstances. “Isn’t he pretty notoriously hard to kill?”

Dick pipes up before Bruce can speak. “There’s still a lot we don’t know–”

“There is,” Bruce agrees, “which is why I’d appreciate it if everyone could make their way over so we can discuss this.”

Tim immediately raises a hand. “Can I be excused if I’m on patrol?”

“Tim–”

Jason sips his smoothie. Fuck yeah. No chicken. “Yeah, I’m actually hosting my book club today, so…”

Dick hides a grin, and Bruce doesn’t roll his eyes, but he very clearly wants to. Double nice. “If you won’t be here, I reserve the right to open your mail.”

Checkmate. Damnit. He scowls, and hangs up before anyone can stop him. “What are we, Communists?” he says aloud to himself as he opens his messages.

Dick is already typing.

DGrayson: JFC drama queen are you coming over or not

JTodd: yeah obviously

DGrayson: oh cool nice

DGrayson: so are you ok?

JTodd: yeah why wouldnt I be

A pause. Jason finishes his smoothie. Look at him go, getting his daily servings of fruits. He’s crushing this.

DGrayson: do you want that alphabetically or chronologically?

JTodd: very funny

JTodd: yeah im so ok im the oldest guy i know

JTodd: *okest

DGrayson: you’re just historically weird abt hole stuff

JTodd: .

JTodd: Dicky do u want to rephrase that rq before I screenshot it

DGrayson: don’t you dare

Jason takes a screenshot.

DGrayson: youre the one who fucking named it the bad decision hole

DGrayson: do not pin that shit on me

JTodd: too late

He immediately sends it to the family group chat.

DGrayson: how could you do this to me

JTodd: easily lmao

JTodd: yeah fr I’m fine tho

JTodd: fuckin weird as hell that he drowned I didnt know you could do that

DGrayson: weird as hell indeed

DGrayson: do you want to see the autopsy report when you come over?

JTodd: are there photos

DGrayson: yeah

JTodd: are they gross

DGrayson: yeah he’s all pruney and junk

JTodd: fuckin bet

JTodd: yeah I’ll be there in like 20

Jason tosses the empty cup into the sink, grabs his earbuds off the counter, and makes his way out to his motorcycle. He’s so fine. The Lazarus Pit is like an old ex, one that he didn’t even sleep with– which is to say he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t. It’s fucking nothing to him. He puts his earbuds in and presses play on his music, and lets the distorted bass guitar snarl like a junkyard dog as Penelope Scott’s singing-speaking voice drowns out anything he’s definitely still not thinking about. For the first time in days, his mind is stillwater placid as he mouths along. “I don’t wanna feel better / I’d do anything to miss you again / I don’t wanna get over it /”

He does not think about Ra’s al Ghul, or, indeed, about his Lazarus Pit as he turns the engine and starts at a breakneck speed towards Wayne manor. There’s just the silence of the wind and the rabid bass guitar. “I wanna get under it instead /”

Jason Todd thinks of nothing at all until one final thought presents itself: that Dick is absolutely going to kill him for not wearing his helmet.

[lyramundana]

heyheyhey, hru?? I hope everything is okay!! can I ask you an imagine where f!reader is insecure about her chubby body and minsung try to show her how much they love her? 👀 go as far as you want, I have no problem with smutty eheh;; the only thing that I have in my mind is a moment with cuddles with them and one of them want to kiss f!reader belly so suddenly that she open up about her insecurity,, I don't know if that makes sense anyway

thank you!

-🌻🌻

Helloy my sunflower!!💖😭😭I'm so, so sorry for the delay. I truly have no excuse for this, I really forgot. Here's my best try to make up for it. I'm not confident on writing things longer than headcanons and random drabbles, but here I go anyway:

We stablished previously that these two couldn't care less about their partner's body once they fall in love. In their eyes, she's a perfect human being sent by heaven for them and they worship the ground she walks on.

Reader doesn't usually feel bad about her body. Dating these two means she barely has the time to find icks about herself because they fill her ears with compliments and praises all the fucking time, cuddling her while wrapping themselves all around her and caressing her skin adoringly. However, she still has her days when she looks at the mirror and the voices in her head are louder than her boyfriends' sweet words. Those days when she pays attention to other girls and notes how skinny they are, how soft their skin looks and how beautiful they look. She watches the girls Han and Minho usually work with and feels she can't compare.

When the boys arrive home and see her wearing one of their hoodies that looks baggy on her, they simply assume she missed them and so they run to her to cover her face in kisses for being so adorable. Seeing her wearing their clothes makes them so soft that the only solution they can come up with is a cuddle battle in their bed. Before she can reply, she's being carried on Minho's shoulders and thrown there, Jisung quicky falling to her side to hug her waist and bury his face in her neck, kissing it. Minho appears on her other side and locks his hands with Jisung's, tracing lines on her face with the other as he leaves soft kisses in her head. Suddenly, Jisung moves his head towards her tummy to leave a kiss there like he has done multiple times before, but this time, she stops him, surprising both of them.

When they cuddle, it's an habit that one of them lays his head on her stomach and sleeps there, Minho even rubs his face there like a cat when he asks for massages, and she usually complies and lets them do happily. But right now, she feels too embarrassed. She doesn't want them to see or touch her fat, to realize how bland her skin is, not when they spent the day surrounded by gorgeous women with perfect bodies and perfect faces.

Jisung steps away a little, looking hurt, and it only breaks her heart more.

-Baby, what is it? Did I do something wrong? - he pouts, clear worry in his eyes, and Minho sits up to look at her with a frown.

God, she only feels worse now. They think it's their fault. She's worrying them over nothing.

-Of course not, babe, you did nothing. It-It's not because of you. It's just..-she bites her lips and looks down, fighting in her mind for words.

The boys share a glance and Minho places a hand on her thigh.

-Kitty, we don't want to push your boundaries, but if there's something troubling you, we want to know.

-Yeah, tell us. We'll make it better, princess. We'll make everything better for you. Please, don't hide from us.

Damn it, now she feels the tears coming. She starts to fitchet with her fingers and blink rapidly at them.

-It's just- she sniffles-I know it's stupid but..I don't like what I see on myself sometimes. I hate what's under these clothes. You guys are surrounded by literal godesses all the time and I..I'm nothing next to them. They're so fit, so skinny, so good looking, and then I watch myself and compare and..-she shakes her head, letting out a heavy breath. - I don't know what happened but today I just couldn't get this out of my head. How can you be with me when you have such options out there? Girls who aren't heavy, who can wear any brand of clothes. Just why?

Silence. She now notices a few tears have escaped her eyes and doesn't dare to look at them.

-Oh, baby -Jisung whispers, cleaning the tears away with his fingers. He wraps arm around her shoulders and movers towards his lap, hiding her face in his chest and coddling her. - Our sweet, precious baby.

Minho hugs her from behind, placing his chin on her shoulders and sneaks his hands under her his hoodie, drawing circles in her skin. He kisses her temple.

-You idiot, you answered your own question. If we wanted any of those "beautiful" girls, why would we be with you in the first place? Think, love. -he presses his cheek against hers. Jisung nods.

-Exactly. And I think you need to check your eyes too, beautiful. There's only one goddess in this entire world and it's right in front of me. Everyone else are just normies. - he huffs, and Minho agrees with him loudly.

She lets out a breathless chuckle, not seeing the small smiles that this draws in the boys.

-Aww, there she is. That's the smile we love so much. - Jisung grabs her face with both hands and squeezes it, pouting her lips. - Now promise you'll never speak of yourself like that. We adore what's under these clothes and it's really painful to hear you say that.

-Besides, you aren't heavy at all, kitten. Have you forgotten how easily I can keep you up in the air for long minutes? - Minho shows a wicked grin and she blushes, hiding her face in Jisung's chest again, who's chuckling at the older's words. Of course, they're not talking about innocent cuddles now, but about when they take turns to fuck you against a wall. They usually start by wanting to brag about their arms but in reality they just like seeing you powerless in their grasp.

Minho pulls her by the end of the hoodie to make her face them, and the air shifts in the room at the sight of her red cheeks, her glossy eyes and small pout. And her thick, mouth-watering legs totally exposed.

-Look at you. Where does that shyness come from, love? Did your little pervert mind made you think of something else? - Minho says in a husky voice, brushing her ears with his lips as his hands drift to the curve of her ass, squeezing it.

-You know what, jagi? -Jisung looks at his boyfriend with feigned wonder, sneaking his hands inside her hoodie to reach her bra clasp, unhooking it slowly. -I think we need to teach our goddess to not talk badly about our temple ever again.

He slips the bra out off her hoodie and pushes her into the bed softly. She's now caged by both of them, who are staring down at her figure in hunger.

They spent the whole night pleasuring her, showing her the adoration they have for her curves and skin, leaving not even an inch of it untouched. By the end of it, she's so spent and covered in love bites that she can't bring herself to care about anything else but sleeping.

[aeb-art]

i thought it'd be cute 🥺💕