#ill try to get the next chapters out tonight

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #56: Else

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery and lots of it, angst, sickfic, accidental emotional whump, fear of starvation, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee (turned caretaker), reunions

Whumpmas in July Day 18: "Or else"

i'm sorry for being so slow with k&j chapters! i'm going to try to be quicker with them in the future. here's one people have been waiting for for a very long time!

-

“You’re sick.”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Kane repeated, taking another sip from the bowl. One of his last bowls before he was to start finding his own elsewhere. “I can taste it.”

“What? What kind of sick? Is it serious?” Jim asked with increasing urgency. Kane could see it in his eyes: he knew fear, and he hated to see it in Jim.

He wanted more than anything to reassure him, but he couldn’t lie. “I-I don’t know?” he admitted. “I don’t know much of human illnesses. You seem… fine?”

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Jim grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back soon. I gotta… go to the doctor, or something. Door,” he warned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be okay! You can’t even feel it! You’re a healthy young man!” Kane assured him, ducking into the kitchen.

“Thanks for warning me!” Jim’s voice was laden with nerves. A flash of sunlight made Kane shiver, and he only returned to the living room when it was gone.

Kane knew what this meant: Jim would likely not finish out the week. This was his last meal given. He would have to go to vampire territory tonight, or else he would have nothing to eat come tomorrow. He had to find blood tonight, or else he’d starve. He’d go back to that horrible, empty state, always wanting, always in pain.

He knew Jim wouldn’t really let that happen, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him for blood forever, either. Kane had taken enough, with and without permission. It was Jim’s turn to rest.

Still, the fear of hunger never left him. It was a part of him now, permanently, no matter how much he fed.

And this meant one thing. The thing he’d been putting off and dreading since Jim set him free.

He would have to go to vampire territory and talk to his parents. He knew already that it would not go over well. Father would be either furious or crushingly disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be humiliated by humans, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. Mother would undoubtedly be the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if they preferred him ‘dead’.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew now that they weren’t… good people. He could see that. He had a new family of sorts, now that Jim had taken him in.

But Jim wasn’t his legal next of kin, and Jim wasn’t the one he had to ask if he wanted his money returned so he could buy blood.

He could always get a job. But it seemed ridiculous to do when he had money sitting right there, and he would likely be found by his parents at some point anyway. There was no avoiding it forever.

Kane drank the bowl down quickly.

-

It was a flu, apparently. Nothing life-threatening, but it set Jim’s anxieties alight. His parents had died of illness, he explained.

While Kane had managed to catch it early, Jim started to devolve within a few hours of arriving home.

Kane knocked on his bedroom door. “Jim? Can I come in?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” he agreed.

Carefully balancing the tray, he entered. He found Jim curled up in bed, looking miserable.

“I’ve brought you lunch.” He’d been practicing his human food skills. He was still quite afraid of the stove, so though he used it when feeling especially brave, he mainly stuck to things that didn’t require cooking. He’d written down several combinations of foods that humans found appetizing, which could often be served in between slices of bread as a ‘sandwich’.

But he needed a tray instead of a plate, because despite his strength, he simply didn’t have enough hands to carry the six cups of water circled around it.

“Lotta water,” Jim noted weakly, grabbing a glass and taking a sip when Kane brought it close. His hand shook, the liquid threatening to spill. Kane watched it close, ready to steady it in a heartbeat if Jim needed him to.

He spoke gently, like he was worried speaking too loud would break Jim in his fragile state. “...Like I’d mentioned, I don’t know much about human illness. Most of what I know comes from you. I just remember… you wanted a lot of water, last time.”

He thought about that time a lot. How he was so close to losing Jim, because he was too proud to listen.

“Ah. Yeah.” Jim wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I remember.”

Kane set the tray down. “I should have taken better care of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I mean–I shouldn’t have had you in the first place, but I did, and you were my responsibility, and I didn’t care for you like I should have.” A hint of tears in his eyes, he took Jim’s unusually-sweaty hand. “I’ll do better this time. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

That earned a small smile from Jim. “Guess it isn’t so bad being waited on. ‘Specially because you can’t get sick, right?” The smile faded. “…Right?”

“I can’t,” Kane assured him. “You don’t need to worry. Just rest, and I’ll take care of anything you need.”

Jim huffed an almost-laugh. “You really changed, man.”

-

Liz did come over to visit come nightfall, which was good, since despite his promises, Kane had to leave. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jim alone at night. He knew it made him scared, and Jim deserved to never feel afraid ever again. She brought a container of soup, a yellow liquid with colorful plants and large white orbs floating in it.

He waited, patient, until Liz emerged from Jim’s room. “Liz?”

“Hey. Thanks for looking after him,” Liz said.

“Of course!” The praise spread warmly through him. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have the time? Advice, I suppose.”

“Shoot,” she encouraged, flopping over on the couch.

Kane took a deep breath. “So, um, I assume now is a good time to start getting my own blood.”

“Yyyyeah.” Liz shot a glance to the stairs leading to Jim’s room. “I’d say that’s about right.”

“Blood… isn’t free. I have the money–had the money, but I’ve likely been assumed dead for many years. I’ll need to go to my parents to get it back,” he explained. “My parents are not kind people, I’ve come to realize.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but politely refrained from making any comments about his former obliviousness. “You think they won’t give it back? Isn’t there, like, laws? This can’t be the first time this has happened with vampires, you guys are too good at not dying.”

“No! No, that’s not it, they’d give it back. It’s just, um, they’ll be… quite upset with me, I think. Especially my father.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to talk about it with Jim. I was worried he would feel pressured into giving me more blood than he’s comfortable with. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. I’ve been through so much worse, I don’t understand why this is so terrifying. I suppose I’ve just never failed this badly before.”

“Hey, you made it out of five years with those monsters, alive. Bet there’s not a lot of vampires who could say that,” Liz pointed out.

“Ah, that’s just… not how Father would see it,” Kane said vaguely. Humans were supposed to be the weak ones. The fact that it took him five years to be freed, and he couldn’t even do it himself, would make him an utter embarrassment in their eyes.

And it was all because he couldn’t use persuasion. Everything they’d always believed about him, proven true.

Liz pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember my parents that well,” she admitted. “I know yours suck pretty bad. I don’t think you have to admit more than you need to, right? Like, do they even need to know where you’ve really been? You could just make something up, for the sake of keeping the peace.”

“Make something up…” Kane murmured. He shook his head. “I’m not a very good liar. They’d see right through me. It’s fine, actually, the more I talk about it, the more I realize I’m being a bit ridiculous.” He forced a laugh. “It’s one uncomfortable conversation and then I can come back home.”

“You’ve got this.” Liz patted him lightly on the back, a modification from her usual clap she’d learned tended to scare him. “You’re tough.”

Kane certainly didn’t feel ‘tough’.

“Thank you. It was nice to at least… get it out of my system. Oh, and congratulations. Jim told me about you and Laken.”

Liz smiled. “After what happened, I just knew I had to say something, you know? If they could just be taken from me at any moment. Stuff happens. People die. I didn’t want something to happen to one of us before I could tell them how I feel.”

She stood. “I can give you one more night’s worth, maybe two. If you need some time to think about it and all.”

Kane startled. He and Liz had grown far more amicable over the past months, but he hadn’t expected this from her.

Maybe he should have. It wasn’t the first time. He thought of Jim, on that first night, vehemently denying Liz’s offer to provide blood, vowing to do it himself.

“...Thank you. That means so, so much to me. It’s alright, though. I’ll go tonight,” he decided.

“Good luck. We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

And that was all he really needed, in the end.

Kane got up, heading to the door with a quick glance back to make sure it was alright. For the freedom he’d earned, he hadn’t gone more than ten feet from the house since he’d returned with Laken. But of course, Liz made no move to stop him. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

The night was as beautiful as ever, even in the cool autumn air. He liked it better this way, in fact. It made it more comfortable to wear more clothing, the long pants and long sleeves and jacket he liked, especially when he ran. When he went this fast, he hardly felt the cold, and his mind was occupied elsewhere.

What if his parents made demands of him in exchange for their help? What if they expected him to return to vampire territory, to isolate himself out of the way in a socially-acceptable manner? Now that he’d tasted true companionship, he almost couldn’t bear to give it up. And what about Jim? Ever since Laken’s abduction, he’d been more scared at night. The very least Kane owed him was his protection.

His petty worries disappeared the instant he realized he could hear a vehicle coming closer.

Kane ran faster, opposite the sound. He’d likely been pushing fifty miles an hour before, and could make sixty if he tried–but he was out of practice, and the vehicle was faster.

A glance behind him showed moonlight glinting off a silver crossbow.

“I have permission!” he wailed as the off-roader gained, heart threatening to burst from his chest. This couldn’t happen, not again, no. Jim and Liz wouldn’t even think to look for him until a day had passed, a day that could easily be spent baking in the hot sun. “Liz Lieberman granted me permission to cross! Please, I didn’t do anything! Mercy!”

“Kane?” an unfamiliar voice called. The vehicle caught up to him, but there was no attack. “Oh shit, it’s you!” the driver said. “It’s so dark, I almost didn’t recognize you from the picture Laken showed us. Thanks for bringing ‘em back.”

Kane slowed, just a bit. “What?” he squeaked, tears streaming down his face.

The hunter in the passenger seat elbowed his partner, making quick movements with his hands that Kane could not understand. A signed language of some sort, he assumed. Though he didn’t know much about such things, other than that spoken orders under persuasion often didn’t work on humans who utilized it.

“Uh, my partner wants to know if you’re good? Like, you’re alright?” The driver asked. “Did we scare you? Sorry. Just, uh, you know, gotta be quick with the other guys. One second wasted and you miss ‘em, and that’s someone’s whole life, y’know.”

“Oh. Um, yes, you’d–you’d frightened me. I’m sorry.” Kane wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “Am I… free to go, sirs?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can go… sir? Shoot, don’t let us keep you,” the hunter assured.

The one in the passenger seat made more hand-signs, waving him goodbye after. “Nice to meet you!” the other translated, finally driving away.

Kane picked up speed again and didn’t stop until he was sure he’d left the border far behind. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

He was so close to going back to the pain. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been skewered with silver–likely soon killed, not tortured, given they were from Liz’s guild, but still, he would have died in pain. No matter how hard he breathed, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he wasn’t sure if it was that he’d been sprinting for too long or the sheer horror.

He wanted Jim. He wanted Jim to hold him and tell him everything was alright, that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him. But Jim was miles and miles away, and could not help him here.

And he couldn’t cry on the ground forever. He was burning moonlight, and he needed blood.

Kane forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. If he squeezed his eyes tight, he could pretend he wasn’t alone, for just a moment.

After a minute like that, he started running once more.

-

By the time Kane reached his parents’ estate, he’d mostly calmed down. It was hard to feel as though hunters would ambush him out of nowhere when he went deep enough into vampire territory to see buildings and people. Any hunter here would be apprehended in seconds.

He touched the gate, brass-coated, though he knew there was silver underneath. There seemed to be some sort of electronic device attached to it, a new addition since his last visit, but he wasn’t sure how to use it. He could climb it, or simply shout, and one of the staff would likely hear him. If he wanted to be extra polite, which he did, he could simply stand here until someone came or went and ask to be let in.

And then that would be it. Kane would be standing face-to-face with his parents. He would accept Father’s ire without complaint. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, even when it came to the comparable. The hunters had spit on him while calling him worthless, ground his face into the floor while forcing him to decry himself as beneath them. It had been so much worse.

His hand shook against the gate.

You’ve really changed, man.

Had he? If he was still back here, ready to take whatever judgments his parents threw at him, debase himself and eagerly beg for their forgiveness, had he really changed? There were humans in there. Captive, hurt humans who he could never in a thousand years be able to free if he tried, locked away in their quarters. What happened to all his regrets? His vows that he would never associate with anything of the sort again?

What would he have done differently here before, if he’d realized back then everything he knew now?

Kane left.

-

It took him a bit to find it, he hadn’t been to this town before, but it wasn’t far, and he knew the address.

There was a different kind of dread this time. If he was rejected here, it might be even worse than his parents. But as he rang the doorbell, he knew this was what he had to do.

The man who answered looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, thirteen years ago. The same dark skin, perfect hair, typically garishly-colorful shirt.

Bellamy’s eyes went impossibly wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kane?”

taglist in reblogs, chapter 57 coming july 30th :)

edit: sorry i was wrong about july 30th. it's coming thoooo i promise

@whumpmasinjuly

[strawberrystepmom]

canon au. cult leader!geto x f!reader. | word count: 762, reading time: 3 minutes.

“Did I ever matter to you, Suguru?”

In a different life, the fact you’ve even asked would have crushed the man standing next to you. In this imaginary reality, he’d ask how he could show you differently that he cares. He would reaffirm that the attention you spent almost a year of your life extending to him was worth it and helped him through the worst times he has ever experienced, but in this one he knows better.  

It doesn’t matter if you did or not. His feelings won’t change the fact you will never be his, your noble choice to do good far more important to you than any lingering feelings you may have for him.

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

The words taste worse across his tongue than any curse he’s ever ingested. He’s a liar, damned to hell for more reasons than just dishonesty, but he has to finally let you go; to let you walk back into a crowded club with tears blurring your vision because his words cut to your core. You told him years ago you fear being forgettable, someone people can let go of without a second thought, and it’s the sharpest knife he can press into you in some ill guided attempt to get the last word.

“I’m glad to finally know.” 

A chance encounter in a club closes out a chapter in your life you thought you’d stay suspended in forever and your stomach turns, your hands idly resting at your sides while your thoughts race. From “does your boyfriend know you’re out dressed like that?” to turning your head with a grin that swiftly fell as you weaved through the thick crowd to end up out here. 

You sniffle and what’s left of his heart breaks, wondering for a moment if he can’t take it back. If he can’t replicate the grin of his former best friend, jovial and wide enough that you believe he’s joking. He could toss you a sardonic, bitter chuckle and you’d roll your eyes but who would it help? 

It’s not like you’re going to return to him, it’s not like he can undo this.

“Thank you for being honest,” you mutter quietly before turning on your heel to leave.

Words sit heavily in his mouth but they disappear with each step you take, putting distance between the two of you before you glance over your shoulder. He’ll try not to remember the look in your eyes while they dance over the entirety of his form as though they’re seeing who he really is for the first time. 

He’ll fail and it’s why he accepts that tonight you’ll return to Satoru, begging for affirmation that you aren’t as worthless as you feel and he’ll almost certainly give it to you, eager to please with sweet words and teases. Reassurances you aren’t nothing, that you’ve made a mark on his life he won’t soon be recovering from. The boy with the silver spoon has become the man with a gilded tongue, the one who always inevitably gets what he wants.

God knows Satoru has wanted you for long enough, since you first stumbled into his life at fifteen, it’s only right he gets to have you now despite Suguru’s selfish wishes that you stay affected by him forever.

He’ll fail and that’s why he knows he will return to the compound, a failed scouting mission in the city under his belt, but he’ll slide into someone’s bed regardless. There’s a woman who looks enough like you when the lights are low he can pretend, it’s the reason he recruited her in the first place, a poor imitation of the real deal. He can press his hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking pleasured babbles in a voice that doesn’t belong to you and he can close his eyes and pretend the smack of skin on skin is yours on his. He’ll ask her to flip over to her belly so he doesn’t have to look at her but he can imagine that the hair that’s a shade too dark to belong to you is still yours, looped around his fist while he fucks all of his angst into her, pretending he’s another man living another life.

Your retreating footsteps continue and his traitorous mouth opens, gasping quietly enough it doesn’t grab your attention over the sound of pouring rain and thrumming music behind the entrance to the club, and he closes it wordlessly, grateful he’ll never have to see you look at him like that again.

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 1

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

Ch/gang guide: so basically in like 2026

You - 27

Rika: 25

Roymen: Zenin: Gojo:

- SUKUNA (39), TOJI (47), GOJO (37),

- Yuuji (24), Megumi (24), Utahime (39),

- Choso (30), Maki (25), Shoko (39),

- Kamo (27), Mai (25), Ijichii (35),

- Todo (27), Momo (26), Nanami (36),

- Yuki (34), Nobara (24), Yuta (25),

- Geto (36), Panda (25) Hakari (27),

- Mimiko (22), Miwa (26), Kirara (27),

- Nanako (22) Toge (26), Kokichi (25),

“No way I’m sleeping for dinner tonight.” You stuffed your hair in a beanie and threw your hood over your eyes. Your smaller frame makes you easier to be dismissed as teenager, people just thinking you’re just an emo on their occasional stroll through the city, it was the perfect excuse they made up for you. Running into them, “stupid brat”, or just swiftly taking something passing it off as youre asking for directions. That was when you were just practicing; right now, you had to use those skills again. The bustling city really tones itself down when the third clan moved in.

No one knows where they came from, but they’re worse than the Zenin Gang. The Gojo Gang was supposed to be there to even them out but with the Ryomen gang, everyone was so scare of them that half the population started to stay inside, that’s what it seemed.

“Lucky.” Some dumbass just entered your alley to take a phone call. Knowing your size you’d be apprehended immediately, but if it’s one person, you could quickly snatch something and you’d be living like a king once again (until the next poor soul comes across your path.) You just didn’t find the use in a job, being stuck in this world that would use you just for being born, you wanted to prove it wrong.

You toss your trash and start walking towards this figure, making it seem like you were just passing them. They ignore you and you smile because this is the perfect time to “Oof!”

You smack into the man in the alley and you get knocked on your ass. The man stands tall and barely moves. “Call me back in 5 minutes.”

The man hangs up his phone and looks down at you. “All this space in this alley and you run into me? Really? You don’t think it’s obvious what you’re trying to do kid?”

You’ve never had a confrontation like this before. What the hell, how did he stand so still, it was like running into a wall. “He’s got me figured out, guess i’ll just return his wallet while he still thinks i’m a kid.”

You reach into your jacket and he grabs your arm. “Are you trying to retrurn this to me?” He pulls out his wallet, you thought you grabbed that? Did he take it back at the last second? Did you never take it? “Or are you finding a weapon. Do you need it that badly that you’ll go up against me?”

“I don’t know you.” You answer. You want to run away but he couches down to you, making you face him. “I don’t blame you.” He grabs at your hat and hood, taking them off, along with your giant jacket.

“Oh? I wouldn’t have noticed you were a bitch.” He was being rough, or maybe it was gentle for him, but this was fucked, you had to leave, now. You try to get up but he grabs your shoulder, keeping you down with him.

“What do you want? Jut let me go.” He’s gotta have other plans if he didn’t want to be bothered.

He laughs like that was funny. “Let you go? You knocked into /me/. It was your whole idea to get involved.”

You didn’t know what do to, he was making shit up now. He tried to lean close but you moved back. I like that. He moves in again and you grit your teeth and try to hit him. He punches you in the stomach so hard you stop breathing for a second. It was awful, god what the fuck was he gonna kill you? That’s too far for stealing a wallet.

“Remember what Ive been saying?”

You heave over yourself.

“I’ll just train you better, your reaction is quite nice.“

His phone rings as you try to collect yourself.You could barely move, much less drag yourself to sit up against the wall. Every breath of life was agonizing.

“Yeah, perfect timing, yeah I was just teaching this bitch a lesson. Tried to steal my wallet just now. Ballsy.” He says while looking down at you.

Holy fucking shit you were in fear. Your legs couldn’t move if you tried. You just knew he was dangerous if this was normal for him.

You shrink down yourself down to minimize the pain barely anything came up but still you were heaving.

He comes over and stomps on you while listening in on the phone. His large boot putting pressure between your legs.

Were you enjoying this? The strange man just won’t stop grinding himself in the right spot, the pain subsided and you looked like a breathless messy pervert on the street.

“Hey are you paying attention?!” The person on the phone almost yelled out.

“Ill call you back.”

He stopped the pressure when you started to squirm and humor yourself into his boot. He lifts you up in with one arm.

He looks at you with cold eyes. “You’re fucked up.”

“You-you” You breathed through hungry breaths.

“Wow, okay.” He rolls his eyes and grabs at you. “Lets see if you can handle me then.”

“That’s not what i meant!” You tried to back yourself away from him when he grabs at your face and wipes it off, looking around for something. There’s a corner past the other end of the alley, and he drags you there, bending you over the wall.

“Is this all you want?” You spit out.

“You’re so nonchalant about this.”

“Being out here this long, it’s bound to happen.” Life on the street, this is the reason why you had to cover up you were a woman. It didn’t help that you looked smaller, easier if anything. It wasn’t anything new for survival.

“They told me I was great, couldn’t even last 2 minutes.“

“Then you shouldn’t be worried” He whips it out.

Your stomach dropped. “What the fuck wait-“

He spits on his tip only and angles it down, centering where your cervix may be. He thrusts in, tearing your walls apart, you scream out loud and he punches you in the back of the head, almost making you black out for a second.

“Shhhh oooh wow you are great,” He grunts as you still find space for him. “But can you survive me?”

Your head hurt, your legs hurt, you can’t do much but go limp and bear it. He was ruining you. His dick make your legs go numb, they just hit you so hard deep inside that you feel the shock in your face and toes with each assault.

All you could do was manage your breathing through this, holy shit this was something else. He grabs your neck with his forearm, choking you while pulling him closer to him, going even deeper, making you cry.

“Aw does this hurt?” He whispers in your ear.

“F-Fuck you.”

He chuckled. “You started squeezing me each time you hear my voice, are you that easy to train?”

You let out another cry and hit the wall with your fist, trying to redirect some of the pain. He stays in you and grinds into you, he’s just trying to make u cum to humiliate you.

He reaches around and kisses at your neck and drops you up and down on him. The rhythm is making you go insane and it feels like he has so many hands with he way he keeps everywhere occupied.

You cum so hard you actually squirt, wait did you? You’ve never done that before so truthfully it was as embarrassing as it was shocking. You couldn’t stop shaking from your core.

“Jesus, I’m gonna need new pants.” You cling to the wall, face tingling, you couldn’t even try out your legs, it was out of the question. You let yourself start to feel, shaking as a wave of emotions creep toward you as you hoped to be left alone in the alley, but he surprises you. “C’mon we’re going home.”

He grabs at you, picking your tired, half naked body up. You wanted to thrash and be freed, but if you risk kicking at his head, you might as well be begging to eat the curb. Before you know it you’re stuffed into a tinted out car in the barren street.

Avoiding eye contact, you sat still in the middle of the packed car. One of them had the decency to give you their jacket to cover yourself up with, but you couldn’t stop the smell, you smelled like and looked like sex. You were just happy it was over, though haven’t you heard this before, ‘Never let them bring you to a second location?” You were about to freak out again until the person next to you grabbed your arms and blindfolded you.

—————-

They drag you out the car and have you follow them for what felt like the longest few minutes of your life. You find your senses quickly, the blindfold was taken off and you were somewhat free again. “Here.” Your escorts pushed you into the room.

You’ve been brought to where it looked like these two girls were waiting to clean you up. Without saying much, they get to work.

At it for a good half hour, most of your injuries were treated. They keep you awake in case you have a concussion.

“You two leave.” Your captor entered the room.

“But her head-“

“I was the one who gave her the injury, I know how hard I hit her. Now leave before I decide to cut alliances with your father, and take you two along with this pitiful bitch.”

The girls hold their breath and take nothing with them, leaving you two alone. When you’re not in a u Jed away spot in the street together, he actually started to look larger by comparison. Do you really think you could’ve taken him on?

What was there to say? What was he going to do to you? Did that matter anymore? You hold onto your belly, tracing over the bruises he left, not being able to stomach another hit from him in your current condition. The large man walks over to your bed.

Towering over you, admiring his work, “I came back only because you didn’t satisfy me. I mean I make you a squirting mess and you mess up my pants? That doesn’t sound fair does it?”

“Who are you?” You don’t dare to move or the ache will start again. “How do you have all this power?”

He sounded amused. “You still haven’t figured it out yet? Or did I hit you too hard.” He flicks your forehead.

“Seriously!”

You’re sure of it, there’s no way someone like you would’ve ever met anyone from the top 3. You had no business with them, you stayed out of their business and locations. “My name is Sukuna.”

As the thoughts crossed your mind, he takes ur blanket off and sees you all cleaned up, of course, still bruised and swollen from just before.

Tearing off the blanket, immediately ripping apart the robes and cloths that covered you, he exposes you and keeps your legs spread. No warning, he just dives right in. You’re taken aback by the sudden collision. His tongue dances around your sex before he starts lapping you up. His flattened tongue grazing your clit then sucking at it had your whole body reacting.

He picked your legs up to get a better angle. His hot mouth felt like it was melting into you. It wasn’t long before he brought you to orgasm again, but just with his mouth. It wasn’t enough for him, he needed more.

Stuffing a few fingers into you, he doesn’t stop and continues working on your clit with his tongue again. Barely giving you time to recover from the sensitivity, you jolted more as he picked up his pacing, barely able to hold back screams.

Riding out your second orgasm into his hand, he looks down amused. “I needed to relieved some stress today, maybe the gods are finally listening to me. But was it luck? Fate? Hm…”

What is he talking about, weren’t you the one with semi brain damage?

The high leaves your body, though you could still feel it in you face. Sukuna takes his digits out of you and picks you up by the face. His other hand unsheatheding himself from his robes.

His erection was terrifying. Seeing it again made your body ache and you were screaming, at least you would if you found the strength but it was beat out of you, before, and now.

You couldnt stand for a second you thought his scar and tattooed decorated body was beautiful. That jawline, his dark features softened by his pink hair, and this distinguishing look in his eyes. Though cruel and harsh, scary like him, there was something else there. Not that you had time to look.

His cruelty brings you back. Shoving you full of his cock, rutting his hips in deeper every chance you think he’s done, he digs deeper. As he sits upright, he has gravity do most of the work. Putting his hands on the small of your back, using that to push you down further onto him. You were getting uncomfortable with this cock warming.

He was just digging holes into you now. Almost bored, watching your legs cringe at every grind. Your face contorting with pain and relief from moves only he’ll allow. He’s enjoying himself enough to almost forget that this was just a pit stop.

“Make me cum and I’ll go.” He says.

Through the pain, unable to ignore him, you ask, “What?”

“You heard me. If I’m late I can just skip my meetings and punish you for the rest of the day.” He threatened.

You pick yourself up with your thighs on top of his, the adjustment made it feel bigger, you were uncomfortable but you knew that it would be tighter from this angle. You’re trembling as your arms are weak yet they were pushing your body up onto his.

He looks down a bit amused. “Do you need some help?” Without waiting he puts his hands under your arms and pick you up, finally angling it right and dropping you down, his head hitting into your cervix.

“Mmm- Ahhh!” Youd cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck to better manage your weight. If you let go he’d break you, you held yourself up as much as you could but Sukuna doesn’t really like a clingy partner. He rips one arm off his neck and uses that hold to maneuver you above him.

“Hhhh! Hhhhahh….” Your short screams had become gasps and sighs, getting sweeter as he kept a rhythm. He grabs at your neck and face, pushing you to face him and you just kiss him violently back.

Pushing your chest onto his, feeling his blood rush as you can only manage to smother his face with sloppy kisses.

With this, he takes that as the go to and puts you back on your back, bending your knees up and makes your face go numb. Without a warning he slaps you so hard you almost rag doll. He laughs at you again, and pulls out, making a sloshing sound.

Almost embarrassed because of the noises you were making without him, he flips you over and shoves your face into the pillow. He slaps you ass hard, your scream silences as he pushes you further in the bed with his dick. He doesn’t stop, this feeling was deeper than you felt before, it was breaking you now.

“What’s my name bitch?” He’s gasping out.

“SUK-“ He slaps your ass. “SUH aH-“ He grabs stir, not letting you finish as he starts to relentlessly buck into you. “AHHH! SUKUNA!” You cry.

The pain and numbness; pleasure and confusion were all messing with your senses. Your cries were like melody to his ears, so much so he decided to choke you from behind. Your gasps and pathetic grunts desperately trying to get your brain some air, it drove him crazy.

He growls and grinds into you as he lays all his weight on you, like he claimed ownership. He’s so deep in you you couldn’t breathe and now you could feel it. He was twitching inside you, and something hot was spreading from inside. This was insane, with the weight, the asphyxiation, it was so much and oh-

Your body tensed up, toes curled and your fingers clenching onto whatever sheets and skin you could find at the moment. He dug his head and bit into your sweet spot. Sukuna’s arm that grabbed your neck, traveled to your womb, lifting you further into him as you came onto his still twitching cock.

“You didn’t do much this time,” He holds you on top of him still as he skewers through you, “but I can forgive you. Rest.” Sukuna stands up and lets you slip off of him, back into the bed weak as ever. He puts his robe back on and looks down at you from the bed. You couldn’t care, you’re just tired from the most unexpected few hours you’ve ever lived through. It wasn’t so much crazy as it was weird.

Dusting himself off, fixing the details of his new outfit, he stands up to leave. You watch as he carries himself with such a highly regard, you can’t help but rethink his status. He opens the door, to your surprise he speaks to someone.

“I told you I wouldn’t need long.” He says to the people outside. Were they there the whole time? What the hell was going on anymore. Was life as you knew it over? If you weren’t already, you were SO fucked.

“When the girls are done shopping tell them to clean her up, again.”

———————————

I hope this is good I’ll prob reread it and rewrite it but here take it TAKE IT// I’ll be working on movie night w the boys next 😈

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - X

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more gif and pics from pinterest

he tastes like candy, he’s so beautiful -Awful, Hole 🤘

10. little bird

Wick says nothing more, just holds your gaze, and again you feel like the floor is going out from beneath you. You’ve become accustomed to your cooler body temperature, but now for the umpteenth time tonight you feel hot beneath the collar. 

“It’s…just a coincidence.” 

“Surely.” He smirks at you, laughing at you, deep down.

Asshole. 

One extremely fine, extremely dangerous, asshole. 

Glaring at the two of you eye-fucking eachother, Constantine clears his throat. “Are we trying to find don Juan or not? Otherwise, I should get to Midnite’s.” 

You look to John. Despite the energy you’d shared with him, he still has dark circles under his eyes, still seems just this side of fragile. You remember how much blood you had to take from him last time, to call up that much excess power, that it just felt like you were floating above your corporeal body. You’re not sure he can spare it, now. If you sent him to an early grave with blood loss you know you would walk yourself right out into the sun. 

On the other hand, there is Wick, robust, full of blood, and who you wouldn’t feel guilty at all about taking down a peg or two. His smile widens as he notices you assessing him like a piece of meat, his powerful body sprawled in the rickety old chair–maybe he wouldn’t be so smug, however, if he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

“Depends,” you answer John. “Will you let me in, or are you going to keep stonewalling me?”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of leaving my aura hanging wide open. It leads to bad things in my business,” he grumbles. 

You suppose, considering his occupation, that’s understandable. But you also think he’s making excuses to shut you out.  

“Uh huh.” 

You cross the cracked linoleum floor to him. He’s so tall that you’re nearly eye to eye, even with him sitting, and even though you already fed once tonight, just looking at him like this kindles that insatiable hunger in your belly, a lick of desire that curls in you like smoke from an opium pipe. Heady. Wonderful. Addictive. Shields up or not, you know he feels it too in the bond between you, his lips parting with a gasp, his pupils dilating to turn his dark irises purest black.  

He takes your hand, and the energy that ignites between you as his long fingers slide into yours fills the dilapidated room with something bright and charged. It even makes Wick sit up straighter in his chair. It feels like sunshine on your face, when you were still human, and you cannot suppress a sigh of enjoyment. 

They both seem surprised when you hold out your other hand to Wick. “Come here.” The vampire hunter obeys, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as he approaches, his presence a solid line of warmth at your back.  

With an almost quizzical look, Wick takes your hand. His fingers are calloused, and strong, and his touch feels like a live wire gripped in your hands. Reincarnated sweethearts or not–your magic likes him, and you think you can work with that. 

Constantine’s frown as he watches this exchange is thunderously contemptuous.  “We gonna sing kumbaya now, baby?” he gripes at you. 

“No. We’re going to find don Juan, and Mr. Wick here is going to cut off his fucking head. Got a problem with that?”

You see the corner of his mouth tick for the barest second, his only indication of mirth before he throws himself wide open to you, and the mingled energies of these two powerful men rips through you like an electric shock. 

♰♰♰

Maybe John Constantine is ill, but you were a fool to think him weak. One mouthful of blood taken carefully from his wrist is so power-charged you practically see stars. It’s possible that adding Wick’s rich blood to the cocktail nearly renders you drunk, so giddy you think you might hover physically off the ground. But the two men on either side of you keep you anchored, vying even now in their holds upon you. 

It’s funny, maybe, that you thought it would keep things tame, drinking from the wrist. But there is an agonizing tension amidst the three of you, unsatisfied lust and painful longing. It all adds a particular spice to this conjuring you work as the focus between them, and you are able to rise with barely a thought this time.

It’s more familiar, this second time you wander through the minds of the city, and you are more careful as you sift through them like grains of rice, in search of that one poisoned seed. You think you are successful more than once, before realizing they are just don Juan’s awful progeny, but not the original root of that particular brand of evil. 

You are surprised, when in your wandering you encounter Angela, the detective John Constantine so secretly fancied. She is in her apartment, working at her laptop. There is a glow of such goodness about her that is rare to find in humans. Her aura is practically a halo, it shines so bright. She is warm, and smart, and strong, and it’s no wonder John likes her, you think to yourself sadly. 

You probe a little deeper, finding that at this moment she is thinking about John. She likes him too, though she’s puzzled as to why. That is a feeling you understand all too well. She must feel your presence, looking up as though there is something in the room with her, reaching out to put a hand on her service issue Glock on the desk next to her. She’s already had quite a scare after her first encounter with real demons, and guiltily you back off, not wanting to upset her.  

You are about to give up your search, feeling that you have stretched yourself to the limit, when at last you sense him. That seething, cloying dark energy that follows don Juan like a cloud. You are more cautious in your approach this time, keeping your distance as you observe him. It seems he retreated north into the mountains, to a chic but almost quaint little house tucked into the hillside. He sits beside a glittering swimming pool, smoking and brooding. The moment you sense him turning your way you retreat, returning to your body, too quickly perhaps. 

It’s disorienting, after being weightless, to wrangle with your flesh and bones, like it’s hard to get all the pieces of you to mesh back again. You would have fallen, if not for two pairs of strong hands steadying you. You lean back on a broad chest. Constantine is before you, you recognize, which makes the imposing wall behind you still Wick. You are either the luckiest girl in the world, or you are cursed. You still haven’t decided which yet. 

“Back off,” snarls Constantine to the dhampir, pulling you into his arms. 

Wick growls, and you can't help but feel like the bone between two cranky dogs. You really shouldn't be enjoying it so much.

“Are you alright?” 

You think you’re fine, but you’re tired. You didn’t travel that far, last time, or search with such purpose in mind. It took a lot more energy than you thought it would.

“He’s in Laurel Canyon,” you whisper against Constantine’s chest. “North end. A little cottage with stone facing, clay tile roof. There’s a bronze statue of horses out front.” You think back, and realize you even remember the house number. You manage to say it out loud before the room starts to spin. Are you going to be sick? “I don’t feel good.” 

“I warned you,” grouses Constantine, even while his hand sits protectively on the back of your head. 

“She did well,” defends Wick. “This will save me time.” 

Sitting back down, Constantine pulls you into his lap, away from the dhampir. You hate to admit how good it feels to curl into him like a child who’s had a nightmare, his arms around you.   

“Great,” he snarks to Wick. “Feel free to go.”

Wick snorts in answer, still looking down at you. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Reluctantly you nod against Constantine’s collarbone, closing your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Will you be fine by yourself?”

Wick laughs lowly at this, but not unkindly. “No worries, ptichka, no more flying around for you. I will give don Juan your regards.” 

“Please, kick him in the nuts for me,” you grumble. The thought of that awful vampire finally getting his comeuppance is darkly satisfying. 

“Would you like me to bring you his head?” 

“Ew.” 

Wick laughs, and you hear his footfalls as he crosses the kitchen to the crumpled vampire in the corner. You’d almost forgotten about the poor bastard. “I will see you soon,” says the dhampir, winking at you before dragging the informant out by his ankles. 

A strange quiet settles over the apartment, without the ominous dark energy of John Wick filling the room. 

You should be scared of him–but you kind of miss him.

“Alone at last,” grouses Constantine, his hold on you tightening. 

You laugh a little, snuggling into the bend of his neck. You start to feel better, sitting like this with him. His hand drifts to your thigh, tracing the hem of his shirt absently. “Was this really the only thing you could come up with to wear?” 

“You don’t like it, John?” you tease sleepily. 

“I like it a lot. For my eyes only.”

“Hmm. I think that’s something only a boyfriend gets to say,” you dare ripost.

He snorts in answer. “If I was your boyfriend, would I get to tell you what to do?” 

“No.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He coughs, and only a beat later do you realize it was a laugh. 

 But then he can’t help but ruin the moment: 

“I thought the dhampir was your new boyfriend, Miss I’ll come visit you in New York,” he complains in an insulting falsetto.  

You, in turn, just roll your eyes. “Excuse you, but I saved you from getting your head lopped off. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Then, he has to go and turn serious on you. “Baby, when I’m gone–” You whine, hating hearing him say it aloud, but he talks over you. “It’s going to happen, y/n. You’ve got to accept that. And when it does, you cannot take up with him. He is bad news. Call it…my dying wish.” 

You’re smart enough to bite down on your first response, which is, ‘he doesn’t seem so bad.’  

It turns out you don’t have any reply at all, and he watches you with an intensity that makes you fear he can read your mind. You’re not sure why he takes mercy on you, saying more gently, “You can’t save him, sweetheart. Any more than you can save me.” 

You look down, because his laser-like gaze is too much, even for you. 

Part of the reason you want to get this thing solved so badly is because you hope you can save him. Maybe with the help of modern medicine, and your own combined magic…something might work out. Buy him some time, at least. He already seems better, after finally letting you into your bond earlier that night. 

Maybe he’s resigned, but you haven’t completely given up hope. 

“I just…want to get this thing resolved,” you admit. “So you can rest.”  

He lifts one of those angular dark brows, clearly thinking that the only rest waiting for him is the permanent kind. But he doesn’t insist again that you accept the inevitable truth of his demise. Sometimes, when you care about someone, you let them get away with those little lies that keep them sane through the day to day grind of life. Maybe he realizes that you need this, so that you don’t run down the street screaming at God and anyone else unfortunate enough to get in your path.  

“Sure, honey.” He surprises you again, when he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to put you to bed, and I have to go to Midnite’s.”

You know the kittenish sound that escapes your lips sounds ridiculous. “Let me go with you.”

“You’re wiped out. Stay here and rest.” 

“No.” You sit up, feeling a little better. Tired, but better. 

“Yes,” he insists, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“I’m just going to follow you, if you try to leave me here.” 

“For once, can you not be so stubborn when I’m trying to protect you?” 

Your lips dance as you try to suppress a smile, lifting an eyebrow. “I could ask the same thing of you?” 

Another exasperated growl escapes him, and your heart sings when he pulls you into another kiss, that golden rope between you pulsing with energy, singing with light. He pulls back to look at you, his pupils blown wide. You wonder if it occurs to him, that this could be his last chance to be with a woman, if things outside this crumbling apartment do not go well. Or maybe, just maybe, he finds you as irresistible as you find him. Either way, when he tangles his long fingers in your hair and kisses you again, you are all too ready to lean in. 

You’re not sure how it’s possible, that this man simultaneously breaks your heart, and puts you back together again. 

When he stands with you in his arms you give a sound of protest, worried about the extra exertion.

“I’m fine, y/n,” he tells you with a rare gentleness that to you is precious as any gemstone. “I’ve got you.”     

He carries you to the bed in the next room, and you are more than happy to let him have his way with you. 

______

*ptichka - little bird

[fleckficgirl]

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 12

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: sex, age gap, language, violence, mental illness, assault

Word Count: 2093

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Arthur's Note (see what I did there?): Thanks every so so much for the kind words and encouragement. I didn't realize the new trailer was coming out today but I started writing this fic again about a week ago and I think I'm on a roll! I <3 Arthur Fleck so much and hope you enjoy!

Arthur had insisted on walking you home, had kissed you again at the front door of your apartment building and promised to call you the next morning; you both had the next day off and planned to see each other.

When he pressed his body into you. You could feel he was hard, but restraining himself. Arthur was nothing if not a gentleman. It only made you love him more.

“I'll call you in the morning,” he hummed into your ear.

“First thing in the morning,” you corrected him with a sly grin.

Arthur smiled, blushing. “First thing in the morning.”

You hated to pull yourself away from him. It was crazy: You'd never cared that much about sex, but for the first time in your life, you understood what it felt like to want to ask someone upstairs, what it felt like to actually want someone to spend the night in your bed. But of course, you had your parents to think about and they'd never go for it in a million years.

Arthur watched you get into the elevator. When the doors closed, you felt like you might cry. Reminding yourself you were gonna see him again in twelve hours was the only thing that put your longing heart at ease.

***

It was almost midnight, and your parents usually went to bed around ten, so you were surprised to find them both sitting up on the sofa in the living room, watching what had to be the last half hour of The Murray Franklin Show. They never watched Murray. They never even stayed up this late.

“What’s going on?” you asked as you locked the front door and hung your coat up.

“We’ve been worried sick!” your mother cried as your dad muted the television.

Oh boy. This was already off to a great start.

“Why?” you asked, cocking your head to one side. “I mean, I know it’s almost midnight, but-”

“There’s been another killing on the subways,” she continued. “They think it’s related to what happened to those three Wayne boys a few days ago.”

“You’re kidding,” you sat down on the sofa to face them. “Who’d they kill?”

“A man,” your father answered. “But they don’t know anything else yet. You were out all night and didn’t hear anything about this?”

You shook your head. “No. But it’s getting crazier out there.”

“What exactly did you do tonight?” your father raised an eyebrow.

“Met up with friends,” you answered breezily. Technically you weren’t lying. Arthur was a friend. Sort of.

“That’s interesting,” he continued, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Because those so-called girlfriends of yours called here looking for you. Two different times in fact.”

“They did?”

You gulped, trying to scan your mother's face for some kind of hint to help you navigate the choppy waters of your father’s suspicions. But her “worried sick” face had morphed into her “I’m just gonna stay out of it and keep the peace” face.

Typically a bad sign.

“First Tina and then that other girl…” your father said. “The one with the silly name…”

He looked to your mother who shrugged in response.

“Chantelle,” he finally remembered. And Chantelle said she was calling to find out how your ‘hot date’ went tonight.”

Damn that Chantelle. You knew she had a champagne-and-dial addiction - it was why she was still hooking up with at least five of her ex-boyfriends - but you could still murder her ten times with a hatchet. She had no idea how crazy your dad was.

“I told your father it must have been some kind of practical joke,” your mother finally interjected. “You know, those telephone pranks kids these days like to play on one another?”

You could see she was trying to help you out. And for one crazy second, you considered telling them the truth:

Mom, Dad…I’m in love with a beautiful clown.

No, that wouldn’t go over well at all. They’d hit the roof. In fact, they'd go through the roof.

The less you said about Arthur the better. At least for the time being.

“I did go out with friends,” you explained in as even a tone as you could muster. “I don’t know what Chantelle’s talking about.”

“Which friends?” your mother asked.

“Just some friends…from…from…” you struggled to complete the sentence. You never went anywhere besides work these days, so where the hell would you meet any other friends?

“Some friends from GU?” your mother asked hopefully.

It was perfect. You could have kissed her right then and there. Saved by the mama.

“Yes!” you nodded. “Yes, some friends from college.”

“Honey, that's wonderful!” your mother smiled.

Your father nodded approvingly. “Those are the kinds of people you should be spending time with. People who are serious about their future…as opposed to a couple of strippers.”

“They’re not strippers, Dad!”

He smiled at his own dumb joke and you pursed your lips. Your father never approved of anyone if he didn’t deem them “serious about their future.” The problem was, most of the kids you’d met at Gotham University were entitled assholes from rich families who didn’t actually care about their futures: no matter how badly they fucked up, their privileged parents could afford to yank them out of hot water and they knew it. Your dad had it all wrong. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“How come you look so disheveled?” your father’s voice broke into your thoughts once more.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He pointed at your rumpled clothes.

“Your outfit’s wrinkled, your hair’s a mess. And your makeup…”

“Did something happen tonight, honey?” your mother asked. You could sense the growing concern in both their voices, and it brought you right back to when you’d started having problems at GU. Your poor parents had to watch as their star student daughter - who’d never given them a lick of trouble - suddenly turned into someone they didn’t recognize. Someone they were afraid of.

“Sweetheart,” your mother prodded gently. “You didn’t happen to get into a…a fight or an altercation with anyone tonight, did you?”

You shook your head and laughed, trying your best to put them at ease. “Not that I can remember.”

It was a true enough answer. More true than they needed to know, anyway.

“You can tell us if you’re…struggling,” your father added. “We want to know if something’s going on.”

You shook your head again. “What happened was, the subway was totally jam packed. Maybe it had to do with the killing tonight, I dunno. Anyway, we were stuffed like sardines. I got all pushed around on the train. You know how the people in this city can be.”

“Fucking animals,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at the TV where a still-muted Murray seemed to be delivering his closing words. “You’re alright though, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” you assured them both. “Nothing a shower and some shampoo can’t fix.”

You breathed a concealed sigh of relief as you watched your parents breathe one of their own.

You popped up from the sofa and stretched.

“Gonna get ready for bed,” you announced. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” your mom called out. “We love you.”

“Love you, too.”

You turned to go to your room and heard your dad unmute the TV, Murray Franklin’s voice ringing out over the orchestra as an organ struck up the groovy chords from his signature closing song:

“Goodnight, and always remember: That’s life!”

You laughed softly to yourself. “That’s life!” you whispered as you dance-glided down the hall and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Life really was something, wasn’t it? Especially life in Gotham, a life like yours: one that now had a beautiful man named Arthur Fleck in it.

After the crazy night you’d had, the shower felt like a balm to your soul. You crawled under the cool covers of your bed, still giddy from your date with Arthur and the promise of seeing him tomorrow. As you drifted off to dreamland, you thought about even though your parents drove you up the wall, you loved them and would do anything for them. You hated the toll your problems at GU had had on them - how scared and defenseless they’d been, not knowing how to help you when the shit hit the fan. They didn’t have the resources and privileges of your ex-classmates’ parents, but they’d stood behind you when no one else had. You’d never forget that.

After the nightmare at Gotham U - after everything it’d put you and the people you loved through - you’d vowed to yourself that you’d never be powerless again.

Although you felt powerless to stop the freight train of emotions you felt for Arthur, you decided he was a worthy exception. Arthur also knew what powerlessness felt like. He wasn't like the rest of them. He was the salt of the earth, just like your parents. Just like you.

And as long as you and Arthur had each other’s backs, you told yourself as sleep enveloped your being, nothing could ever take either of your power away again.

Together, you were unstoppable.

***

The phone rang first thing in the morning, just as Arthur promised. Thank GOD your bedroom had its own phone line.

“Hey you!” you answered playfully on the first ring.

“There you are. We’ve been calling you, bitch!”

“Chantelle?” you paused, your breath hitching.

“And Tina’s here,” Chantelle said. “We’re at Ha-Ha’s. You didn’t call either of us back last night so we decided to ambush you first thing in the morning.”

“Oh yeah,” you shook your head. “And by the way, thanks a lot for telling my dad about my ‘hot date’ last night. He was real happy to confront me about that when I got home.”

“So you did come home last night!” Chantelle gasped.

“I told you a million times!” Tina’s annoyed voice rang out in the background. “She wasn’t gonna have sex with him on the first date.”

“So how was it?” Chantelle asked. “Tell us everything!”

“It was…great,” you answered. “He’s…wonderful.”

Chantelle squealed. “Y/N’s going out with a college boy!” She sang.

“Let’s not blow this out of proportion,” Tina countered. “College boys are a dime a dozen. And most of ‘em wouldn’t know how to please a woman even if they majored in it. Gimme the phone, Chantelle.”

You heard the receiver scuffle on their end and Tina’s no-nonsense voice rang in your ear.

“How was the outfit, hair and makeup?” she demanded. “Any mishaps?”

You paused. It would take too long to explain the whole blacking out thing to them, you reasoned. And you didn’t want them to worry.

“Everything went fine,” you said. “You guys did a great job. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I have some very exciting ideas for the next date outfit,” Tina said. “When are you getting here? I’ll fill you in. We’ll try on some samples.”

“I’m off today!” you sang into the phone. “And I’m actually seeing him again this afternoon.”

“What? You slut!”

Chantelle grabbed the phone back. “You’re seeing him again? So soon? Oh my goodness, Y/N, I feel like you’re gonna marry this guy.”

You heard Tina groan in disgust behind Chantelle before snatching the phone back again.

“Then my outfit ideas will have to wait for your third date,” Tina said. “Assuming there is one. What were you planning on wearing today?”

“I dunno,” you glanced around your messy room helplessly. “I haven’t even thought about it.”

“Okay, listen to me, Y/N. You’re an autumn. That means warm skin tones. Understand?”

“Warm skin tones,” you repeated back, even though you had no idea what the hell she was talking about.

“I’m talking greens, I’m talking yellows…come to think of it: do you have anything in peach?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Black is fine. Accessorize with those gold hoop earrings. A full face of makeup just like we showed you. But go easy on the blusher, for the love of God.”

“Thanks, Tina.” You laughed.

“Shit. Hoyt’s coming,” Tina warned. “Call us immediately after today’s date ends. We need a detailed play by play so we can mastermind the plan for date number three.”

“I thought you said these college boys were a dime a dozen,” you countered.

“Mastermind your outfit for date number three,” Tina corrected herself. “If you’re gonna date a college douche, the least you can walk away with is a killer wardrobe.”

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[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 65 (Personal Lows)

cw: pregnancy loss (I'm so sorry I did not plan this.)

As well as life had been going for Heather and Conrad, reality came crashing down one Saturday when Ash was in the city with the Landgraabs. Both were spending the day at work, but Heather fell ill and called Conrad.

"Something's wrong. Can you meet me at St. Sims Hospital?"

Heather was admitted for tests, but Dr. Serra delivered the devastating news. "This happens more often than you might think this early on, but there's no heartbeat. I'm sorry."

"This is my fault," said Conrad. "My fear added stress you didn't need."

"This isn't your fault," said Heather staunchly. "Dr. Serra said this happens more often than you think. You didn't stress me out any more than the rest of our busy lives stressed me out. I've worn a glucose monitor since high school and I have to remind myself to slow down all the time. You make my life so much easier, Conrad. Not more stressful."

"This can be a difficult time for anyone," Dr. Serra said gently. "I'd like to refer you both to a colleague of mine, if you're open to it. Her name is Dr. Supriya Delgato, and she's a relationship and family therapist with a focus on grieving. I think you should talk to her when you're ready. She has an office upstairs and I can let her know she might hear from you."

"Yes please," said Heather. "Thank you, Dr. Serra."

Conrad was still apologetic when they returned home, trying to think of the right thing to say while an exhausted Heather changed into her pajamas. "I'm sorry. I should have been more supportive from the start."

"I'm glad you were honest with me, Conrad. For better or worse, knowing how you feel makes everything clearer for me."

"I do want a family with you. I want Ash to have a brother or sister, and I was looking forward to the parenting classes we were going to sign up for. I wish it hadn't turned out this way."

She embraced him. "Me too. But when I was about seven my mom had a miscarriage early, like me. She got through it, and she had Hazel a year later."

"Heather, I promise you, next time I'll be ready."

"I believe you. We don't need to think about that tonight, but I think we should schedule an appointment with Dr. Delgato like Dr. Serra suggested."

"I haven't spoken to a grief counselor since I was in high school," he admitted. "Back then I was too angry at the world to get anything from it."

She held him in a reassuring embrace. "I think this will be a good thing for both of us."

They went to bed that night feeling closer than ever, cuddling beneath the covers until they both fell asleep. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: This happened unexpectedly via the Heathcare Redux mod by adeepindigo and I was really sad about it. I'm sorry to anyone who hated this development especially after we all went through it with Conrad. I considered pretending it didn't happen since it happened SO early, but I appreciate the realistic storytelling supported by the mod nonetheless. And Conrad will be thrilled about the next one, because I'm literally sending him to grief counseling to justify me changing his trait to 'Would Love to Have a Child Right Now' without letting it flip over time. No chances taken, only plot! In all honesty Heather should have had therapy in high school so in some ways this is long overdue for them both, anyway.

NOTE 2: That last shot is the first time they autonomously cuddled (to sleep, my heart!) after the Lovestruck update. Honestly their level of flirty when they're together is usually sky high and blocks out most of their sad moodlets, hence the smiles despite this really sad installment. When it comes to Conrad, Heather isn't unflirty whatsoever.

[fillinforlater]

Blonde: Chapter III

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2500 words

Tags: angst/fluff, another bad day, losing your dignity, illness, someone who cares, there is a fever dream, Gaeul's relationship, struggling with your identity, we got a twist at the end

Inspiration: "Why Am I Like This?" by Orla Gartland

(A/N: Finally, another chapter to this slowly developing plot. I jope you enjoy it. @firagaarmor for obvious reasons)

"Didn't you say 108,000?"

"No, sir, it's 180,500 won."

"Oh, I see."

The old, fragile fingers of this confused, bald man creep back into his purse, trying to find another bill in what is probably a maze of money and plastic cards for him. You wouldn’t mind it one bit, you get paid either way and on usual nights, traffic is so little that barely anyone else gets inconvenienced. However, tonight is rather unusual. Apparently everyone forgot something and is now in a haste to buy said something. There is a long line of impatient stressed moms, annoyed teenagers and everything in between or beyond showing or voicing their disapproval.

It’s not you, you’re not the cause for their stress and discomfort, yet the customer’s toxicity still flies to you like you’re some kind of magnet. It all comes back to stab you, with passive-aggressive remarks or the glances up and down your small frame. Doesn’t really help that you only had cold ramen noodles, sweets and a little bit of bread in the past five days and that the ice cold showers make your nose itch with an impending cold. God, you must look pathetically miserable, even for your standards.

After the man finally gets his cash together, the checkouts are fast, heartless, and your heart aches for her to be at the end of the line. Gaeul—with her bright hair and even brighter smile to greet you when she is out buying drinks again—she could really save this evening. You yearn for her encouragement and presence more than for the next hot meal. Maybe even more than for the next two hot meals. 

But there is no blonde angel to save you tonight. With the last customer buying their groceries, the lights die one by one, leaving you in a mostly empty store, alone with thousands and thousands of tasty and not-so-tasty products you’d love to put into a pan and fry. The thuds of your sneakers on the floor almost drown out the grumble in your stomach or the sniffling of your nose as you walk into yet another cold night with nothing to look forward to. 

I fucking hate this shit. 

#

You want to vomit, throw yourself off your bed, tear every single strand of your dark hair out as you dial your mother's number again. You hope it’s over quickly, but one can never know with her, especially if she still stubbornly refuses to help you. Take deep breaths, try to keep your head straight though thinking has become more and more exhaustive with every calorie you’re missing. 

“What is it?” your mother groans, though you find her tone to be a lot more amused than last time. Someone is cheering and laughing in the background, drowning out even the loud TV. 

“The bills, mom. I still have no electricity, no hot water, no heater.”

“Oh right.”

A response colder than your room. You try to straighten your back to speak to her loud and clear, with at least some authority, but you feel yourself crumble when the clanking of bottles loudly booms through the speaker.

“Did… did your boss finally pay you?” you carefully ask, earning an immediate response.

“Yes, he did.”

“Then why didn’t you pay the bills?”

Silence, except for the crime drama running in the back, finding all the suspects and then the killer, as they always do. This case right here is totally clear, no one needs to investigate for more than five minutes to find out that she is at fault, yet it feels like you're on trial, awaiting your parole, which for some reason is still in the balance.

“You know, sweetheart,” your mother cheekily responds, her saliva loudly flopping around in her mouth, mixed with the disgusting flavor of cigarettes and beer. “I really worked hard for that money. It’s my money. In the end I can decide what happens with it.”

Oh God, don’t do that, please for the love of—and don’t call me sweetheart.

“You can’t be serious,” you barely chirp out, your heart throbbing, crumbling like your entire body as you can see your entire foundation, the fragile remains of your fake stability finally falter. You can never cover all of your expenses with this one job and you can’t quit school now, not after getting so close to finally finishing it. You need her money and she seems to finally use it against you.

“It’s just the truth,” she responds nonchalantly, her voice a lot lighter and higher in pitch than usual. You hear someone cackle in the background.

“Sweetheart.

Don’t call me that.

“How about you—

Don’t do this.

“—start begging for my money. C’mon! Get on your knees and beg for it! I’m tired of funding your lazy, incompetent lifestyle. You should be so grateful for my throwing money at you all these years. 

“I didn’t hear you! Get your lazy ass out of your bed now, and on your damn knees.

“Beg for it.”

Laughter from behind her. It's not the TV.

#

A hot shower, warm noodles, a cozy bed—they never felt so wrong, so disgusting. Even as your life objectively improves, it feels horrible, like you had to sell yourself and your soul for it to happen.

Your knees are still drawn to the floor. You might sit in a chair, listen to teachers all day or sit at the checkout, pulling items over the scanner, your knees still feel like they should get on the floor and beg.

Please let me pass.

Please give me more money.

Please leave me alone.

Please ignore my embarrassing existence.

"Hey."

"Uhhh, good evening, ma'a—Gaeul?"

Gaeul's dainty fingers catch your shoulders as you slump forward, against the checkout counter and almost fold over. Your body, devoid of energy, loses all tension.

“Hey, hey,” Gaeul calls out to you, and like the caring mother you never had, the warm palm of her hand cups your forehead. “Oh lord, you’re so hot! You’re definitely sick, what are you doing here?”

“I-I have to work,” you respond, a wave of something hot and heavy pressing down on your brain. This lava burns itself into you and makes every thought process excruciatingly hard. You haven’t even noticed it until now. “I’m not sick, every-thing is fine.”

Your smile is weak, dozy and fake, it cannot fool Gaeul a bit. Her beautiful face falls into deep wrinkles of worry as you can barely lift yourself out of her supporting arms. There is an awkward pause between the two of you, only interrupted by another customer clearing their throat. You try to get back to scanning, but one of Gaeul’s cans slips through your fingers a couple of times.

“I don’t think you should do this,” Gaeul says quietly, softly. “You don’t need to prove your toughness, it’s okay to be sick for a few days. I think your boss will understand.”

“Really, Gaeul, I’m okay.” The final can, straight into the blonde’s bag. Through your blurry eyes you can barely make out the color of her jacket, or sweater, or whatever it is—either way, it definitely suits her. “Thanks for worrying though.”

#

Why did I push her away like this? Why didn’t I listen to her? Why am I always like this?

Everything is hot and everything is cold. You need another jacket or the cold will get worse, but it simultaneously feels like you could die from overheating if you don’t start throwing away layer after layer of clothes. The way your body feels is close to how the inner mechanisms in your brain work in this fever haze. There is nothing, no thought, no conclusion, nothing that matters—yet everything is suddenly relevant.

Objects and details you’ve never actively released before come into focus of your decreasing sight, that one tile in the corner, just as dirty and unspecial as the rest, the second package of gum, purple and pink, the spooky hum when the door opens that never appears when it closes. So you stumble out of the store, tripping over your feet until the fever finally strikes you down.

The concrete, its gray color, is darker the colder it gets. It’s also harder, torturous to lay upon, scorching hot skin on freezing tarmac. Suddenly, brand new sneakers, black and white, small feet, about as small as your own, though they could be—

“Oh my God!”

—a bit bigger, judging by the length of the stockings covered legs that—

“Here, I’ll help you”

—disappear in a plaid skirt, above a combo of thick winter jacket and—

“I knew this was bad. Taxi!”

—a girl, whose hair is both silver and golden, a blonde close to whiteness, nonetheless it looks like a crown adorning and framing her perfectly formed features.

Gaeul.

#

You’re lost in a dream. A school full of students, their ages varying drastically and you do not recognize a single face. The teachers seem a lot more familiar, though they float through the room carelessly, gravity not applying to them. In fact, gravity only applies to you, as the rest of the students fly around the room with their chairs and desks.

A frame of an angel, her hands brushing your cheek, scorching hot, so she puts a wet towel on your face. That’s so nice of her, you must be sick. Sick or not, you cannot miss the day you go to the zoo with the floating class.

The zoo is filled with people, nothing but people. People that look at odd people. Those that have to stand on one leg, those that can’t talk properly, those who like weird things. You can hear your whole class laugh hysterically at all of them, so weird, so wrong, nothing better than to laugh at sickos and be glad that you’re not one of them.

“Uhm, hi.” A voice in the far background, damp, behind a shut door. “Care to explain why you have another girl in your bed?”

You feel like you have to explain yourself, but words are nothing more than concepts in your head, also the zoo is calling, you have to watch the lively corpses float through the water tanks. Luckily, someone speaks for you. The angel.

“She’s a friend and she is sick. That’s all there is to it, Yujin.”

"Oh, really?" The other voice is skeptical, eyebrows raised and she looks for a clever response. “I guess she got sick while laying in your bed? Gaeul, don’t lie to me, okay? Just be straightforward with me.”

“I—” the angel stutters and falls silent. You however found a new enclosure in this zoo which stretches in all directions. This one is rather empty and the enclosure is also no enclosure, just a mirror with a writing above it: ‘Sicko girls that like other girls’.

The reflection is you, of course, in all your—

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” The other voice, now a tall woman of incredible beauty, twirls a couple of golden strands of the angel and tugs them behind her ear with a weak—dishonest, you feel—smile. “The long hair suited you better. I really liked that.”

“I know, Yujin.”

The reflection is you, in all your fault and imperfection, far from perfection and any heavenly being. You are no angel, just a sicko girl that likes girls—and the whole class is laughing.

#

You open your eyes, but the aching, hot pain in your temple and a heavy, wet towel on top of it make actually seeing, realizing anything a pain in the ass. Just the outline of a small face looking down on you, very familiar, very pretty—oh, what a relief to have Gaeul be the first thing you see.

“Wh-where am I?” you ask past dry lips.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Gaeul turns around and quickly reaches for a bottle of water. “Here, drink this, your body needs a lot of water now. You’re in my—my friend's apartment.”

“Damn, then it must have been real fucking bad—”

You cover your mouth, realizing your loud curse in a foreign room, foreign bed, where are your manners, they might have foreign customs. Gaeul’s eyes fall shut when she begins to lightly chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, she’s not here right now,” Gaeul says. “You’re all good. B-but you can’t stay here forever. Just rest up and—you have somewhere to stay, right?”

You carefully remove the towel from your face, catching all the drops running down your forehead as you think about home, your home, finally warm because you threw away your dignity. You’d love to not go there, tear up the contract for rent and run away to something new—into independence.

“Yeah, yup, I—I have a place, don’t worry. Sorry for all the trouble, fuck, I don’t even remember what—I did it again.”

Now Gaeul is holding her stomach, laughing, hitting the blanket that covers your legs and you join her. Though you might sit upright, you feel like falling over, the dizziness, Gaeul’s laugh, they make you feel like you’re still in that dream with the angel. The angel, so ethereal, but made fragile by this voice. A woman.

Suddenly, yours and Gaeul’s face are almost touching, her arms are on your shoulders, yours on her side, her petite frame is in your palm. The laughs have faded, smiles remain but you feel your heart racing. The smile fades and you’re tense. Gaeul is right there and she is so, so pretty.

“You sure you’re alright?” Gaeul asks as she sees your blush. You blush even more and avert your eyes.

“Y-yeah, thank you. You helped a lot. But—

“—are you okay too, Gaeul?”

That’s a smile full of uncertainty, a hint of anger, a glow of hurt. Gaeul’s eyes sparkle and you’d love to blow some life into them. Even better, all the love you have for her, you want to pour it into her and give her power. But no, you have no idea nor any plan to do such a thing. So it’s Gaeul who helps you out of the bed and hands you one of her sweatshirts that isn’t drenched in sweat.

“You are the one with a fever, I’m as healthy as ever!” Gaeul is so bright and her smile shines like a star. In a different universe, she is already a celebrity with a perfect red carpet smile. Fake.

“I didn’t mean that.” In a surge of confidence and worry, you reach for Gaeul’s hand and everything's in slow motion. “I-I’m scared that you’re not happy, that something isn’t right, that—Gaeul, I heard you talk to your friend and she seemed—”

“Look, I—she isn’t my friend.”

Gaeul looks at you. 

“She is my girlfriend.”

Gaeul still looks at you. Now it’s your turn to fake a smile and get it over with.

...

(A/N2: Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for more chapters, though it will take time until the next release)

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Duty PT 5½

PAIRING: Robb Stark X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,475

WARNINGS: none!

SUMMARY: Robb's Queen falls ill and he is not quite sure how to handle it.

PART 1| PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 4 ½ | PART 5 | PART 6

MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST

A/N: This is kind of short drabble-type chapter setting up the next two! Please send a message, comment, send an ask so i can hear from you! and hope you enjoy 🥰🫶🏾 (Part 6 dropping tomorrow night –UK nighttime btw 🤭)

Robb has grown used to your company in recent weeks. He was surprised the first time you came to his study for no reason other than to talk, but he came away from that evening happy to have seen and spoken with you.

Eventually, those nightly visits became more of an expectation. Sometimes you’ll have a conversation over tea and cakes and other nights he’ll share a laugh with you over supper with a belly full of ale. Occasionally you watch him work while doing needlepoint or sewing up his trousers – because he always seems to rip the seams – providing a needed distraction whenever he gets too frustrated with the contents of his letters.

It is routine. One he quite enjoys, which is why when you don’t come to his study tonight, he’s not upset, he’s worried. He thinks to ignore it and continue on with his work, but he struggles to concentrate on any of it when his mind keeps wandering back to you.

He has enough after a few minutes and rises to his feet intending to find you and determine that everything is alright. As he walks around the Great Keep, not a single person he passes can tell him where you are. His casual stroll slowly morphs into a hurried walk as he begins heading towards your chambers. That is when he runs into someone.

Elyse.

He almost doesn’t realise it is her at first, so focused on where he is going that he brushes past her. It is only at the sound of her voice when she stops to curtsey that he recognises who it is. He spins back around as he already passed her a little, cocking his head to the side.

“Elyse,” he breathes as he approaches her slowly, “How are you?”

They have not spoken in some weeks now. It is awkward between them. It has never been awkward. He suspects that she has been avoiding him, but a part of him chooses to believe that only because he has in fact been avoiding her out of guilt.

She looks up at him, a thin yet soft smile on her lips. “I am well,” she says, though her pained eyes tell a different story.

Robb has the urge to pry her for more questions. The only reason he has stayed away from her is because things can never be as they were once. Not if he intends to honour his vows to you.

He doesn’t want her to feel as though he has simply cast her aside and forgotten her. But as soon as he’s about to raise a hand to take hers, he stops himself, remembering why he is here in this corridor in the first place. He is trying to find you.

“Have you seen…?” his voice trails off before he can say your name. He doesn’t know if that would be offensive or unnecessarily hurtful.

But it doesn’t need to be said because she knows who he refers to just by the look in his eyes.

“The Queen is in her chambers. With Maester Luwin.”

That means something is wrong, and though he wants to stay and ease Elyse’s hurt, he does not have the time for it.

“Thank you, Elyse,” he lingers for a moment, knowing there are still many things unsaid between them, before making his way to your chambers.

Just as he arrives at the door, Maester Luwin steps outside, jumping when he sees Robb.

“Your Grace,” he bows as best as he can while shutting the door, " Forgive me, I was not expecting you."

Robb frowns as he glances from the closed door to Maester Luwin, “Has something happened?”

The Maester shakes his head slowly, “Her Grace has fallen ill, but–”

“Why was I not made aware?"

"It was quite sudden," he explains, then places a hand on Robb's shoulder, "But it is nothing serious, you need not worry yourself."

Mester Luwin's voice is comforting, but Robb's heart remains unsettled. You are his responsibility now, and whatever pain befalls you – illness or injury – weighs on him. That is the only reason why he is concerned.

The only reason.

He looks at Maester Luwin and asks, "What ails her?"

Maester Luwin seems unsure of whether to answer at first, but then he lowers his voice and begins to speak, "You are aware that women pass bloods once every moon's turn?"

In fact Robb did not know that it happens every moon's turn. He thought it happened once when a girl becomes a woman. Nevertheless, he nods his head as if he did know before this very moment.

"Is that what this is?"

Maester Luwin nods, “It seems Her Grace passes her moonblood with great difficulty. But her pain and discomfort should fade in the coming days.”

Robb glances at the door yet again, debating whether or not he should go in.

“She is resting now,” Maester Luwin says, practically peering into Robb’s thoughts, “You should look in on her, put your mind at ease.”

His head snaps in the maester’s direction, “My mind is already at ease.” There is a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Maester Luwin bows before taking his leave to return to the rookery.

Alone with his own thoughts, Robb considers returning to his solar to continue working. He knows now that no great harm has befallen you and you will be just fine, but his heart is still unsatisfied. With little hesitation, he twists the handle and pushes the door open.

One week after your wedding, Robb began to notice that his chambers smelled different. It almost annoyed him how quickly the room adopted your scent. It clung to everything, the sheets, the pillows – even Robb's own clothes. But over time, he came to appreciate that earthy, yet sweet smell. It gave him comfort.

That is why the first thing he notices upon entering the room is how different it smells. The aroma of medicine hangs in the air, no doubt from whatever treatment Maester Luwin has provided.

You're lying on the bed when he enters, curled up into a ball. As soon as Robb closes the door, your eyes flutter open, following him as he approaches you wordlessly.

"Your Grace," you begin in the softest voice he's ever heard from your lips, "I would curtsey or sit up, but as you can see, I am in no state for such."

"I wouldn’t ask you to," he smiles as he sits on the bed right beside you. He glances at the cup sitting on your bedside table, "What are you drinking?"

You tilt your head slightly to see what Robb is looking at before returning your gaze to him. "Maester Luwin gave me something for the pain," you say, "I don't remember what is in it."

"You are in pain?"

Robb's concern increases when you nod.

"Where is the pain?" he asks.

"Here."

Robb looks down at where your hand is cradling your stomach. His eyes snap back up to you when he hears you wince, clutching your stomach tighter. He hates to see you in such terrible pain, and it is worse knowing he can do nothing to ease it.

"Will it be like this for you after every moon's turn?"

You shake your head, "Not every time. It was not like this during the last one – that is why you did not know it was happening."

Even after seeing you and speaking with you, Robb's worry does not dissipate. There is still a pit in his stomach. It dawns on him that he is not only concerned because you are his responsibility. He wants you to recover quickly because…well, it is you.

He raises his hands to your face, stopping when he sees the startled look on your face.

"Do you mind?" he asks, hands still hovering over you. He proceeds when you nod.

Gently, he presses his palms against your cheeks. You remain completely still under his touch, your heart racing. After a moment, he moves his hand to your forehead.

"What are you doing?"

He looks down, meeting your eyes which are staring up at him, before pulling back from you, "I'm checking for a fever."

You chuckle lightly, an infectious sound, "I'm not sure fevers are common with my particular ailment."

"It is better to be sure."

You smile softly before closing your eyes, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Robb sits there, listening to your breathing and waiting for you to fall asleep.

After a few minutes, your eyes open again.

"Don't let me keep you, you ought to rest," you whisper, "Your mother has prepared the guest chamber for you."

Robb is taken aback, "The guest chamber? Why should I stay there and not here as always?"

"Because you work from dawn to dusk and I will not have you lacking sleep simply because I am ill. Besides, your mother insisted."

Robb looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. Of course his mother would be the one to insist. But still, he does not want to bring you any further discomfort anyways, so he obliges yours and his mother's wishes.

"I will be sure to look in on you again tomorrow," he promises as he rises to his feet. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he finally says, "Sleep well, Y/N."

***

The next night, Robb is not happy when he finds the tray from your supper untouched. It lies discarded on the floor beside your bed, not even a grain of rice has been moved.

You're asleep when he enters the room, and even when he sits on the bed, you remain still. There is no snoring however, which lets Robb know that you are not sleeping soundly. Your forehead is creased and even in your sleep you're clutching something to your stomach.

This illness seems to have gotten worse, which only serves to make Robb feel more guilty for not coming to see you during the day. He leans down and presses the back of his hand to your clammy forehead, then his palms to your cheeks. Just to be sure again that there is no fever.

You wake while he is in the middle of doing this, momentarily shocked to see him practically on top of you. Robb instantly draws his hands back when he hears your gasp.

"I apologise, I was only checking–"

"Robb," you sigh heavily and slowly pull yourself up into a sitting position, "There is no fever. I have told you, this will pass."

He nods even though his worry remains.

"I'm sorry that I did not come earlier."

You wave a hand and shake your head. "It is quite alright, I completely under–"

You're cut off by an intense and sharp pain in your lower stomach and back that makes you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut. Too distracted by the pain, you don't even realise when Robb takes your hand at first, but once his calloused fingers clasp around your hand, you give it a tight squeeze to help the pain pass.

"Are you alright?"

Your eyes open to meet Robb's staring back into them. His brows are drawn together and he is sitting close to you on the bed, both his hands now holding yours.

"Yes," you whisper as you pull your hand out of his grasp, licking your dry lips, "I'm fine."

He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he sits back, placing his hands back in his lap. You can see clearly that he is concerned about you, more than you expected him to be – likely because he does not understand what is happening.

In some way, it is comforting to know that he cares.

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Robb is not a man who enjoys feeling useless. Even more so in recent years, considering all the tragedy that has befallen his family. And seeing you this way, sickly and vulnerable – the complete opposite of how he’s always seen you – is deeply unsettling.

"Distract me from the pain," you say, offering him the smallest way to make you feel better, "Tell me about your day. What has kept you so occupied?"

He doesn’t know how talking about ledgers and reports would help you, but he does so anyway.

“I spent much of the day preparing for the arrival of some men from the front.”

“Who is coming?”

“Lord Umber is bringing back some of the men we captured,” he sighs, “Our cells down there are too crowded, and some of the men are workers whose surrenders I’ve accepted.”

You raise a skeptical brow, “You trust Lannister soldiers?”

Robb is surprised – and a little amused – that you’re questioning his decision. He’s not sure he minds, however. In fact, he appreciates your taking an interest.

“I don’t,” he chuckles, “But these are men from the Brotherhood Withou–“

He’s cut off when you grab his hand to squeeze as another cramp hits. Instantly he forgets what he was talking about and gently takes both your hands. When the pain passes, you reach over to the side table and take a sip from the cup sitting there.

You notice Robb's inquisitive stare and nod to the cup, "It's the same tea from last night," you mumble, your eyes feeling heavier, "Apparently, it is a weaker dosage of milk of the poppy."

"Milk of the poppy makes you drowsy, no?"

"That explains why I have slept most of the day," you smile weakly.

Robb chuckles and strokes the back of your hand as you lean back and shut your eyes, "I should not have woken you."

"Perhaps not."

"Shall I leave?" he asks.

"No," you answer in a light voice, barely above a whisper, "Stay."

And so he does. He watches over you even after you fall asleep. It is not until your light snores begin to fill the room, a sure sign that you are in a deep slumber, that he decides to leave. He gently places your hand over your stomach and pulls the blankets up to your chest to make sure that you stay warm through the night.

Before he leaves, he can't help but watch you for a moment, listening to your slow breathing. You appear so at peace, and the sight warms his heart. In that moment, he knows that he has let go of any residual resentment he may have had towards you.

"Do feel better soon, my Lady," he whispers, "I long for our evening chats."

*

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[e-nonsense]

SILVER MEDALIST — strongest pt.1

chapter one pt.1 summary. and so she sat silently at the Gojo table beside her best friend, Gojo Satoru who looks bored as he tugs at his grey tie. They watch as her twin brother stroll around the room alongside her father, Zenin Naoya was heir to the Zenin Clan because he’s boy. “You should be in his place,” she heard him grumble. “You’re stronger-“

masterlist // next part

2005

Strength was something the Zenin clan prided themselves on. Their strength reached high ranks, most clan members reaching the rank of a grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer. Except the women, who were expected to marry, have kids and whatever else. So you could imagine the disgustthey had the day Zenin Harumi was born.

Less than an hour after her birth the girl and her brother were born. She was summoning shadows every time she cried, the shadows of the room moving to her aid. Trying to swallow her whole as it tried to shield her.

It was expected that the Head of the Zenin clan would have powerful children but as expected from a family of fucking misogynists they prayed it would be the boy, Naoya, Harumi’s twin.

What they hated further was the fact that Harumi was well liked by everyone.

And so she sat silently at the Gojo table beside her best friend, Gojo Satoru who looks bored as he tugs at his grey tie. They watch as her twin brother stroll around the room alongside her father, Zenin Naoya was heir to the Zenin Clan because he’s boy.

“You should be in his place,” she heard him grumble. “You’re stronger-“

“I wouldn’t want to be in his place,” she cuts him off and his blue eyes stare into her grey ones. “I’m okay with being second.” Because being second was something that Zenin Harumi was far too used to. She would embrace being second, she would never be the sole responsible one. She could have whatever slight freedom she was granted with being second.

“That’s shit-“ a quick smack to the back off his head shuts him up and Harumi giggles at the look he shoots his mother. “Watch your mouth Satoru.”

“He’s not wrong though Harumi,” Satoru’s father speaks softly but the firmness in his tone is something Harumi always admired about the man. “Stupid Zenin, can't recognise true power because they can’t get equality. Your father is the stupidest fucking-” another smack makes Satoru snicker at the speed his mother strikes his father with.

“That goes for you too,” his mother mutters loud enough for just them to hear. Satoru and Harumi share a look before breaking out into laughter as Satoru’s father fake sobs into his wifes shoulder. “So abusive, you see kids? She’s abusive.”

The kids giggle and they fold over each other as they laugh, a few people in the room sparing them both amused glances.

More of the night passes smoothly, Satoru and his father leaving to socialise later on leaving Harumi with his mother. “Is your mother here tonight dear?” Satoru’s mothers voice rings softly in the girls left ear.

“No, she’s still ill,” Harumi answers with a slight frown. Mrs Gojo brushes hair out of the young girls eyes, “and your other two brothers?”

“Somewhere here,” she shrugs and leans back lazily in her seat. “If they haven't already ditched, I can't wait till I can just not show up to these things.” Mrs Gojo chuckles in return and pats the girls head comfortingly.

“You’re nearly fifteen dear, you start at Jujutsu tech next year.” the woman says excitedly, “do you still plan on joining Satoru at the Tokyo campus or has that changed?” By ‘changed’ she meant, has Harumi been forced to go to Kyoto.

“No, father was quite… pleased with my decision actually.” Harumi says softly. “But he did recommend that I still join him and Naoya at Kyoto for the orientation. I agreed just to have him stop bothering me.”

Mrs Gojo chuckles and nod, “fair enough.”

Neither of them notice the two pairs of crystalline eyes watching them both with a smile. Mr Gojo looks over his son with a knowing smirk, “so. Son, anyone catch your eye recently? A girl perhaps?”

Satoru looks at his father with a raised brow, “no. why?” His father hums in response, not saying anything further as he walks away to greet an old friend of his, leaving his son standing there confused.

He walks back over to the table his mother and Harumi are sitting at, “I think dad’s sick.” he says as he takes a seat next to his close friend, watching as she raises her brow. “Why do you say that?” she glances at his father. “He looks fine to me.”

“He always looks fine,” came Mrs Gojo’s mutter before sipping her drink. “Ma!” Satoru gags and Harumi snickers and pats his back.

Both teenagers watch her in amusement as she smiles as she watches her husband, snow white hair and crystalline hair. Him and Satoru looked identical, the only difference was that Satoru was a lot paler than his father who had a slight soft tan.

Satoru snaps his finger in front of his mothers face as Harumi pokes her shoulder, amusement playing in her smile as she shares a glance with Satoru. Mr Gojo obviously feels the weight of someone's eyes on him so he looks back to see his wife staring at him, he smirks at her.

Both Satoru and Harumi gag at the sight of their wordless flirting exchange. “Gross.”

The best part of the night passes quickly, Harumi bidding the Gojo’s goodbye as she walks towards her father, her smile from earlier gone as is her good mood. “Father,” she greets him monotonously, Naobito nods in greeting. “Harumi,” her brothers snarky voice calls her as she didn’t greet him. Naobito sighs, “leave it be Naoya. Sit down Harumi,” her father orders and the girl complies by taking the seat on her fathers left.

From across the room Satoru watches the exchange with a scowl, noticing the way his friend's smile dropped and the mischievous glint in her grey eyes disappear. His parents watch him as he watches her, clenching his fork tightly.

It’s always been this way for the two of them, they’d met when he dragged her away from a crowd of people at some fancy clan meet up when he was six. And they’d been following each other around since then, neither of their parents stopped it. Because for the Gojo’s, Harumi was an angel, always overly polite and she made their son happy, and honestly she was his only friend back then.

To the Zenin’s, they were far too scared and smart to get on the six eyes’ bad side (not that they weren’t already.) They also saw an opportunity to get an in with the child who would become the most powerful sorcerer alive.

Either way, he was way too overprotective of her, he’d follow her around like a guard dog. “Don’t, you’ll only make it worse for her,” his father warns as he glares over at the Zenin occupied area. “She knows how to handle herself.”

Satoru scowls as he watches from afar, “she looks fucking miserable.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[unabashegirl]

Lycan 20 — werewolf hs

Y/N Y/L/N returns to her hometown, Alsfield, when her father falls ill, only to discover the town hides a dark secret—one protected by the mysterious Harry Styles. As Y/N unravels the town's mysteries, her plans to return to San Francisco are derailed. 

Author's note: Hello everyone! I'm trying to update all stories since I am officially on Christmas break until January. So, I'll be around if you need me!

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--> lycan masterlist <--

The night hung heavy with silence, the pack confined to the safety of their homes as darkness enveloped the horizon. Harry had meticulously laid out the new rules, ensuring Niall disseminated them to every member of the pack.

Dinner was a somber affair, the weight of recent events pressing down on everyone. Conversation was sparse, the unspoken thoughts of Isabella lingering in the air like a heavy fog. She was so young, just a freshman in high school, and her life had been cut short. Harry had taken it upon himself to arrange for her funeral and service, a duty he bore with a heavy heart. Y/N could feel the tension in the air, a palpable heaviness that settled over the room, even without the need for the bond of marking. Retreating to her bedroom, Y/N sought solace in the familiar comfort of her reading nook. It was a corner of the room that Harry had thoughtfully arranged for her, having observed her penchant for books during his covert surveillance before their first meeting. In those days leading up to their encounter, Harry had meticulously prepared her living space, ensuring it was tailored to her comfort.

Tonight, however, Y/N felt the need for solitude. The revelations of the pack's dangers and the recent tragedy weighed heavily on her mind. She needed time to process everything she had learned, to come to terms with the reality of her new life among the pack.

Curling up in the cozy nook, surrounded by shelves of books, Y/N let out a sigh. The events of the day played out in her mind, the faces of her new pack members etched in her memory. But it was Harry's troubled expression that lingered most vividly. She knew he carried the weight of their safety on his shoulders, the burden of leadership pressing down on him.

Closing her eyes, Y/N allowed herself to drift into the world of her book, seeking solace in the familiar words and stories. But no matter how engrossed she became in the pages, her thoughts kept drifting back to Harry.

Harry had finally confessed his desire to mark her, a step that Y/N herself had eagerly begged him to take. Yet, as the moment approached, a surge of nervousness flooded her. She couldn't fathom why she felt this way after yearning for it for so long. It was as if her mind was playing tricks on her, clouding her thoughts with uncertainty.

As she grappled with these conflicting emotions, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of going crazy. Perhaps, she thought, a brief respite from the intensity of pack life would help clear her mind. But she knew deep down that suggesting such a thing—leaving the pack unmarked—would only agitate Harry further.

Her heart fluttered erratically as she found herself drawn to Harry's bedroom, as if pulled by an invisible force. With a trembling hand, she knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. The door swung open, revealing Harry's intense gaze, his green eyes like the lush forest.

"I-I can't sleep," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, filled with a mix of nervousness and longing. His gaze held hers, a silent exchange of unspoken words passing between them. Without a word, Harry stepped back, his expression unreadable, inviting her into the intimate sanctuary of his room.

As she crossed the threshold, the air seemed to thicken with tension, a palpable electricity crackling between them. The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the dim light casting dancing shadows on the walls.

With a hesitant step forward, she found herself standing before him, her heart pounding in her chest. Harry's gaze never wavered, his eyes searching hers as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden within. In that moment, she felt completely exposed, vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated.

"What's going on?" Harry's voice was soft, a gentle whisper in the quiet of the room. He closed the door behind her and took a few steps closer, his eyes searching hers for any hint of what was on her mind.

"I... I don't know. It's just..." Her voice wavered, emotions bubbling to the surface. She felt a lump forming in her throat, the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders.

Without hesitation, Harry reached out, pulling her into his arms. His embrace was warm and reassuring, a safe harbor in the storm of her emotions. She leaned into him, finding solace in the strength of his embrace.

"It's alright" he murmured against her hair, his voice a soothing melody. "You don't have to explain. I understand" Harry wasn't oblivious to the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. He understood, perhaps more than anyone, the overwhelming nature of pack life and its responsibilities.

"I am sorry"

"You don't have to apologize," he murmured, his voice a gentle reassurance. His arms remained around her, a solid anchor in the storm. "It's okay to feel this way. It's a lot to take in."

Y/N nodded against his chest, her breaths coming ragged as she tried to steady herself. Harry's comforting presence was a balm to her frayed nerves, grounding her in the midst of the chaos swirling inside her mind.

"Listen. We can wait a few more weeks until you are ready and we'll do the marking then" He suggested, not wanting to rush her into anything.

"No," she sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. "If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that I want to be marked." Y/N understood the significance of Harry marking her. It wasn't just a step forward in their relationship; it was also a means of protection, a connection to the pack. "Let's do it tonight."

"Tonight?" Harry's eyebrows lifted in surprise, a hint of amusement in his green eyes. "I assumed you'd prefer something more romantic than me in my Spiderman pajamas and reading glasses in my bedroom." Y/N couldn't help but take a moment to observe him. Indeed, he was clad in pajama pants adorned with tiny Spiderman, opting out of a shirt but not the oversized frame glasses that rested on his nose.

"We'll always find an excuse," Y/N said softly, determination lacing her words. She didn't want to sound desperate, but she knew what she wanted. She wanted to fulfill her role as Luna, and more importantly, she wanted to be introduced to the pack.

"I guess," Harry replied, a hint of nervousness in his voice. This was new territory for him as well. He had never marked anyone before. Harry had read about it, heard stories, but the reality of it was different.

"So, how do we do this?" Y/N asked, her nerves palpable as she glanced around the room, fingers fidgeting with unease. Harry chuckled softly, taking her hands in his to ease her obvious anxiety.

"I'll mark you tonight. I promise," he said, his voice reassuring, "but just let it happen." He didn't have a plan, no elaborate scheme to coax her into baring her neck for him.

As they stood facing each other in the dimly lit room, a soft tension hung in the air. Y/N could feel her heart racing in anticipation, her mind filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Harry took a step closer, his green eyes locked on hers, a mixture of intensity and tenderness in his gaze, like a stormy sea calmed by the moonlight. He raised his hand, gently brushing his fingertips along her jawline, as if she was made of porcelain, causing her breath to hitch.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry whispered, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "Yes, I am," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Harry leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at the contact, her whole body tingling with anticipation.

With slow, deliberate movements, Harry placed a series of gentle kisses along the curve of her neck, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. His lips were warm against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

Y/N closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She felt Harry's hands move to the back of her neck, his touch gentle yet firm as he tilted her head slightly to the side.

And then, she felt it—the sharp prick of his teeth against her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain coursing through her. It was a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before, intense and electrifying.

As Harry's teeth sank deeper into her skin, Y/N felt a surge of energy pass between them, a connection forming that felt ancient and primal. She could feel his presence in her mind, a comforting and reassuring presence that filled her with warmth.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Harry pulled back, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of awe and tenderness.

“You are mine” he whispered with dominance. Y/N could tell that it was his wolf speaking through him.

Y/N reached up to touch the spot where Harry had bitten her, feeling the faint throb of the mark beneath her fingertips. A rush of emotions washed over her—joy, excitement, and a deep, primal sense of belonging that filled her to the brim.

"It's always going to be tingly," Harry explained to her, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to linger in the air like a whisper of promise. He gently traced the mark with his fingers, his touch light and tender against her skin.

Y/N shivered at the sensation, a rush of tingles spreading from the mark and dancing along her nerves. "Is it painful?" Harry asked, his brows furrowing in concern as he studied the bite and the delicate skin around it.

"Just sensitive," she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath as she closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of pleasure through her. The mark pulsed beneath his fingertips, a reminder of the bond they had forged, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and contentment fill her.

Harry's gaze softened, his eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that stole her breath away. "I'll be careful," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress against her skin as he leaned in closer.

And then, before she could fully process what was happening, his lips met the mark, a soft kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through her entire being. Y/N gasped, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

As Harry kissed the mark, Y/N felt a surge of warmth spread through her, a deep sense of connection and belonging that filled her with a sense of wonder. It was as if the mark was alive beneath his lips, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the beat of her own heart.

And in that moment, with Harry's lips against her skin and the mark tingling beneath his touch, Y/N knew with a certainty that this was where she belonged. In Harry's arms, marked as his, bound to him in a way that transcended words.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. She was marked, claimed by Harry in a way that was both primal and deeply intimate. And in that moment, she knew that she had found her home.

-> Chapter 21

[cuffmeinblack]

Out of bounds

Part 2 | Part 3 | ao3 link for all chapters

Garreth Weasley x gn!reader

Tags: fluff | light smut | first kiss | sexual tension | general shenanigans 3.5k words

Summary: You agree to help Garreth sneak into his aunt's chambers to retrieve some confiscated notes. In an effort to spend more time with him, you ask him to come with you.

A/n: Later parts will be f!reader, but for now it reads as gender neutral. Also, surprise appearance by @ask-deek. Screenshot credit: @deathlysallows

Pink. Your potion was pink, when it should have been a soft mauve. If you’d spent more time accurately measuring your potion ingredients instead of staring at the back of your housemate’s head you might have produced a better result. You thought perhaps it could be salvaged yet, scraping a little more shrivelfig off of your chopping board and throwing it into your cauldron. You were so engrossed in the steadily paling mixture that you hadn’t noticed the presence beside you.

"You're good at being sneaky," Garreth said.

You stirred your potion, counting the clockwise rotations before responding whilst trying to suppress the blush creeping up your neck. 

"Am I?"

"Well you did get me that fwooper feather. And the dried billywigs. Back in fifth year, remember?"

"I remember, and you're not wrong. Why?" you asked, cocking your eyebrow.

"Could I borrow your services once again?" he asked, leaning against the table.

"What's in it for me?"

"Erm, well I'm sure I'll think of something," he mumbled.

You could certainly think of a few things Garreth could do to you that would repay the debt ten times over, but now wasn't the time to bring up your lewd fantasies. You made a show of sighing in concession before replying.

"What do you need me to do?"

Garreth gave a furtive glance over to Professor Sharp who was limping over to his store room, moving closer to you and lowering his voice. Your breath caught in your chest as he moved, your eyes running over his freckled face.

"My aunt confiscated some very important notes of mine and I need them back if I'm ever to finish my latest brew," he whispered.

"You want me to steal something from the deputy headmistress?" you asked with a frown.

"Well, yes, I suppose so. I think they're in her chambers…"

"You're not serious. Garreth!" you said far too loudly, glancing around to check nobody had heard your exclamation.

"Please."

You sighed and looked into his brilliant green eyes, annoyed that apparently you couldn't bring yourself to say no to him.

"Fine, but my payment is you coming with me," you said, returning to your chopping board.

"Wh…what?"

"You heard me. I'll get you in there and back out. Teach you what I know, maybe then you can do the dirty work yourself next time."

A convincing argument, somewhat skillfully hiding your true motive—in honesty you just wanted the excuse to spend time with him alone, away from the prying eyes of your friends and classmates. You already spent much of your free time in each other's company but always with the presence of Natty or Leander. As much as you loved your fellow Gryffindors, you always hoped for just a moment with just Garreth.

"I…well, okay," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "When shall we do it?"

"Tonight, whilst she's at dinner? I'll meet you outside the common room."

"Brilliant," he said, flashing you his widest smile, making your stomach flip over as he retreated to his own cauldron.

Your potion was on the brink of ruin as you swore and flicked your wand to lower the flame. Garreth was a distraction you could ill afford, and you’d just agreed to indulge your attraction by sneaking around the castle with him at night. You shook your head at your own stupidity whilst simultaneously feeling a giddiness wash over you, eager for your lessons to end.

The hours passed slowly as you waited in eager anticipation of your dinnertime excursion. With a bit of luck you'd be in and out of Professor Weasley's chambers within a few minutes and could be celebrating your victory sitting next to Garreth at the dinner table before long, perhaps even granting you a pat on the back or two. With a rumble in your stomach, you straightened your robes and gave yourself a quick peruse in the mirror before skipping down the stairs to the common room and passing through to the portrait entrance.

The shock of red hair greeted you as soon as you clambered through the tunnel into the hallway, your heart skipping a beat as you approached Garreth who was leaning against the wall, deep in thought. He always had a nervous energy about him, never staying still for long—his foot bounced on the ground until you came to his side, stilling as he caught your eye and flashed you a wide smile.

“Ready for our…excursion?” you asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied as you started walking.

"How are you at disillusionment?"

Garreth's mouth opened and shut silently as he cast you a sheepish look.

"Don't tell me you've never cast the charm?" you asked in surprise.

"Well, I've never really needed to," he replied. "I don't make a habit of sneaking into places I shouldn't."

"It can be useful. Really useful. Come on," you said.

Turning a corner in the astronomy tower, you came to a stop a short walk from the entrance to the trophy room and pulled out your wand, waiting for Garreth to do the same. Flicking your wand in the familiar spiral and muttering the incantation, your body shimmered and disappeared, leaving only a faint trace of your shape in the corridor.

"You're almost invisible," Garreth said, amazed.

He tentatively reached out and poked what you could only assume should have been your shoulder. Unfortunately, his aim wasn't particularly good on your translucent outline and his fingers gently prodded your neck instead. The touch was absolutely, definitely not meant to be intimate in any way, shape or form—but his warm, soft fingers brushing the skin below your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, sorry," he apologised, withdrawing his hand, a blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks.

"Get…get your wand out and try," you urged in a slightly strangled voice.

Garreth followed your instructions, tracing the wand movement elegantly and repeating the incantation. He flinched slightly before his body began to fade, flickering until his form resembled frosted glass.

"I wasn't quite prepared for that feeling," he chuckled.

"Oh, yes, it's cold isn't it? Like an egg being cracked on your head."

"Felt like a particularly cold flobberworm sliding down my neck."

You gave him an invisible smile and cleared your throat, readjusting your thoughts to the matter at hand.

"Come on, quietly now."

You crept silently down the corridor until you reached the towering spiral staircase that led all the way up to the headmaster's study. Professor Weasley's chambers were situated just below it, on the first floor. With careful steps, you climbed the staircase—not being able to see your own feet very well was disconcerting.

After a few minutes of slow creeping, you came to a stop outside of Professor Weasley's chambers, giving the door handle a wiggle on the off-chance she'd left it unlocked. No such luck—the door didn't budge. Drawing your wand, you pointed it just below the handle and muttered 'Alohomora', hoping your charm was powerful enough to open the lock. You let out a deep breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding as it clicked open.

Pushing the door open, you peered into the room, taking in the empty space with interest. You'd never been in here before—even when galavanting about the castle you tended to steer clear of your professors' living quarters. 

Garreth followed close behind you as you slipped inside, dropping your disillusionment charm once you were satisfied you were completely alone.

"I don't believe we did it! Merlin, this is exhilarating, isn't it?" Garreth gasped.

Garreth dropped his own charm and his smiling face came shimmering back into view, his eyes already darting around the room in search of his notes.

"Breaking and entering? Yes, it is quite the thrill," you laughed.

Your gaze tore from the redhead to scan your surroundings, admiring the paintings and ornate furniture dotted around the room. The decoration felt familiar, not worlds away from the cosy Gryffindor common room with its dark woods and plush fabrics.

Garreth had wandered off to search the mahogany desk whilst you were drawn to a large metal box on top of a sideboard. The lid was gilded, a beautiful pattern of roses and thorns embossed on the top. With a delicate touch, you removed it, finding a collection of random objects. 

One such object appeared to be humming—you could feel pulses of magic emanating from it, perhaps the reason you'd been drawn here in the first place. Your eyes darted at the rest of the contents until they fell on a stack of parchment.

"I think this is it," you said, pulling the papers from the box. "This is definitely your writing…what is this, Garreth?"

"Ah, just an experiment," he said evasively, crossing the room quickly and snatching the parchment from your hands. "Top secret, you know."

"Mhmm, is it likely to end with first years in the hospital wing?"

"That was…only one time. I didn't think about the reaction of…"

Garreth's hasty explanation was interrupted with a shuffle of footsteps and squeak from the door handle as both of you panicked and ducked behind the sofa. You pulled out your wand and screwed up your face in concentration, casting a non-verbal disillusionment charm which clearly wasn't as effective as your verbal incantation. You only hoped that the visitor wouldn't venture this far into the room.

Garreth had done the same, his shimmering form crouched next to you and leg pressed against your own. You couldn't tell who it was by just the footsteps but you heard a click-clack on the wooden floorboards that sounded like heeled shoes—most likely it was Professor Weasley returned early from dinner, and your stomach churned as you imagined the trouble you'd be in if you were caught in such a compromising position.

The moment you spent waiting seemed to drag on forever as the footfalls continued, until they finally receded. You heard the creak of hinges and thunk of the door closing, then another click of the lock. You realised you'd been clutching Garreth the whole time, your fingertips digging into his firm bicep. You loosened your grip as you steadied your breath, once again dropping your disillusionment charm. 

"We need to get out of here in case she comes back," you whispered.

Garreth looked slightly paler than he had done only moments before as he nodded his agreement. He glanced down to your hand still circling his arm, a faint flicker of a smile playing on his lips until you withdrew your fingers, averting your gaze. 

"Come on, then," you mumbled, crossing the room with your wand out.

A quick Alohomora should have had you out of there in no time, but the deafening silence that filled the room after you cast the charm sent a ripple of fear through your body. 

"Oh, no."

"What? What's oh no?" Garreth's panicked voice whispered from behind you.

"Alohomora," you said clearly, paying extra attention to your wand movement.

The lock didn't even twitch, stubbornly staying shut with every subsequent attempt until you were red in the face and flustered beyond belief.

"What has she done?" you grumbled, prodding your wand at the metal as if it would simply fall apart by sheer force of will.

"What if she put an anti-unlocking charm on it?"

"Why would she do that?!" you exclaimed, far too loudly.

Garreth shushed you as your heart and mind raced and you began to pace the room, wondering how you'd ever escape the situation with your academic record unblemished. He ran his hands through his copper locks, his eyes flitting about the room.

You sighed, suddenly feeling weary, flinging yourself onto the sofa and staring at the door as if it had personally victimised you. Garreth followed, sitting to face you on the seat.

"Maybe there's another way out of here," he ventured.

"What, you think your aunt has a secret passage in her chambers?" you said, your words dripping with sarcasm.

"There's no need to be snarky," he replied with a frown.

"This was your idiotic idea, Garreth! Now we're stuck in here for Merlin knows how long..."

"She'll be back from dinner soon, don't worry."

"I don't believe I went along with this just to spend time with you," you said, exasperated.

You only realised what you'd admitted to when you noticed his eyes widen in your peripheral vision as he watched you. 

"You did?"

You blushed and cleared your throat, throwing him a shy look to see his reaction. He was sitting with his legs crossed, grinning like an idiot. Damn his smile.

"No need to get cocky," you said with a poorly-concealed smirk.

"Why wouldn't I be, when the most beautiful person I know wants to spend time with me?" he replied, completely earnestly.

You let out an embarrassingly loud chuckle, your cheeks now burning. He was still watching you intently, leaning back on his hands and waiting for your reply. You weren't really sure if you could form a coherent sentence, especially since your mind had wandered to some particularly dirty places as you scanned his pose and wondered what his reaction would be if you simply sat in his lap.

You bit your lip nervously and shuffled on the seat, hoping for a distraction. It wasn't the one you'd expected, but the one you hoped for, in the form of Garreth's hand on your knee. A tentative touch as he watched you, stirring something in you that you could no longer ignore. 

You placed your hand on top of his and gave him a small smile as his eyes flicked to your lips, his head giving the slightest movement forward in his intention to kiss you. You waited, but he seemed to hesitate, so it was up to you to close the gap, pressing your lips to his as he inhaled sharply in surprise. 

The moment he reciprocated, tilting his head and parting his lips for yours, a swarm of excitable butterflies erupted in your stomach. Your mouths slotted perfectly together like a puzzle—warm, soft and oh…wet, as his tongue unexpectedly ran over your lower lip. You tried to suppress the whimper that formed in your throat, but it spilled out, captured by his parted lips. 

Garreth inhaled sharply, his hands twitching next to him. Perhaps his restraint was in part due to nerves, or the fact you were kissing on the sofa in his aunt's chambers, but it crumbled as soon as your tongues slid over each other. His grip was strong, his fingers encircling your waist and practically pulling you into his lap.

You had no intention of resisting—his lap was too inviting. You let him guide you towards him as your lips remained fused, settling onto his thighs with a soft sigh. His hair was just ripe for pulling as you ran your fingers through the strands, the smell of cinders and something distinctly sweet filling your nostrils. 

Toffee? Caramel?

You hummed as your mind hazily tried to identify the scent, your lips curling slightly into a smile as you kissed him. 

Whilst you explored each other's mouths and hands wandered, Garreth made his appreciation known with soft, low moans. It shouldn't have surprised you that he was as vocal as when he was chatting incessantly with his friends, but what was coming out of his mouth now was nothing short of deeply erotic. Each sound brought forth something desperate in you. 

Years of watching him, wanting him, whilst ignoring the racing of your heart and churning of your stomach, had culminated in this moment. The tension finally exploded into unbridled enthusiasm for each other's embraces. You hadn't considered he'd felt the same, but his passionate kiss gave you all the information you needed to know.

Your breath grew heavier as his tongue caressed your own, slow but firmly decisive with no hint of his previous restraint. He was everything you'd ever imagined and more, every fantasy you'd had paled in comparison to his very real touch. 

His hands had moved from your waist to somewhere much lower—a firm grip pulling you closer against his lap, his hips digging into your thighs. The unmistakeably hard bulge in his trousers pressed against you and your hips instinctively rolled against him, teasing a delicious groan from his mouth.

"Oh," you gasped.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, gently massaging and tugging with every grazing of your lips when a loud crack filled the room. Your lips broke apart, eyes bulging in fear as you both looked for the source of the noise.

"Mister Garreth!" a voice squeaked from somewhere behind the sofa.

You clambered off of Garreth as quickly as you could as you saw a pair of huge eyes peering up at you.

"Deek!" you all but shouted at the elf.

You looked at Garreth in shock, taking in his dishevelled appearance and wondering what you yourself looked like. His skin was flushed under his numerous freckles, down his neck and tingeing his ears. You suppressed the urge to flatten his hair that you'd dislodged as you pulled your gaze back to the house elf.

"Deek thinks you shouldn't be in here," he said with a small hint of amusement.

"Please, Deek, please don't tell my aunt about this. I was just trying to get something back that belongs to me," Garreth pleaded, awkwardly adjusting his robes to cover his legs.

"Deek has seen a lot of things in his time at Hogwarts but students canoodling in a professor's chambers is a new one," he said, rocking back and forth on his tiny feet, his hands clasped behind him.

"I was just trying to help Garreth, we didn't meant to…"

"Deek won't tell Professor Weasley, but you must put back what you took."

You sighed and clutched Garreth's arm again. He looked slightly dejected and you couldn't help but roll your eyes—of course he would be focused on his lost notes rather than averting serious punishment.

"Where are they?" you asked.

Garreth reluctantly groped around in his robes and pulled out the now crumpled parchment, smoothing out the creases as best as he could and handing them to you. You pointed your wand at it as both Deek and Garreth watched you with interest.

"Geminio."

The parchment rustled and another piece of paper popped out on top of it—a perfect copy of the notes below. Garreth's mouth dropped open and broke into a grin, his glittering eyes meeting yours.

"Have I told you that I love you lately?" 

You laughed and returned his smile as blood rushed to your cheeks, your skin already burning. Your attention was diverted when Deek snatched a copy of the parchment from your hands and shuffled over to the box you'd found it in, tucking it inside and closing the lid with a little pat. 

"Hold Deek's hands and Deek will take you back to Gryffindor tower," he said, his arms already outstretched. 

With a raised eyebrow at Garreth, you both took one of the elf's tiny hands and braced yourselves before disappearing with another loud crack. The next sight you saw was the portrait of the fat lady, who jumped and gawped at you, apparently not expecting to see two students apparate in front of her with a house elf.

"That was much more comfortable than human apparition," you remarked.

"Of course. Deek thinks elf magic is much too undervalued by wizarding kind," he said simply.

"Right, well, thanks again Deek. We promise not to get anymore trouble," Garreth said.

"Oh, Deek very much doubts that. Until next time," he said, snapping his fingers and disappearing.

You couldn't help the laugh that came out of your mouth as you met Garreth's eyes and the fat lady tutted behind you. By the time you'd both controlled your laughter, the portrait looked incredibly unimpressed, her mouth forming a hard line as she looked down at you.

"Password?" she huffed.

"Conjunctio."

The portrait swung open in front of you and you clambered through the cramped hole in the wall, sighing with relief as you stepped into the safety of Gryffindor common room. Most people were still at dinner, with only a smattering of students occupying the space and paying you no mind.

You looked back to find Garreth standing just next to the door, running a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck and looking slightly awkward. You didn't like the look he was giving you, or avoiding giving you.

"So...Merlin…I, uh…sorry."

"Sorry for what?" you asked, your heart racing.

Did he regret what had happened? Of course the whole event has been a fiasco, but you couldn't bear to think that he'd deemed what had occurred between the two of you a mistake.

"Well I really ought to have taken you on a date before…that," he said.

"Oh. Do you want to take me on a date?"

"Of course I do," he said with a smile.

"Well, I'd love to go with you," you replied.

Garreth's smile widened into an excitable grin, his eyes full of ideas and possibilities. If your date was half as eventful as your evening had been, you were in for a wild ride.

[sincerelyhecate]

you (hit me with a broom and) set my heart ablaze

Title: you (hit me with a broom and) set my heart ablaze (final chapter)

Pairing: Jason Grace/Percy Jackson

Length: 7.9k words

You can also read this on AO3.

∘◦ ☆ ◦∘

Six years later.

On a lovely Saturday morning, in the kitchen of Jason and Percy’s home, it isn’t strange for one to hear the screams of Piper McLean echoing throughout the cosy ambience of the place. Today the sound is shrill and delighted, whistle-like before devolving into banshee cackles, to the absolute indifference of everyone else in the vicinity. In her precarious clutch is a rumpled copy of the Daily Prophet hanging on for dear life, papers on the verge of falling apart from the way it’s shaken this way and that. Poring over the morning news next to her hysterical girlfriend (or rather, trying to), Annabeth makes a face, disturbed by the headline emblazoned on the front page.

Jason, who’s preoccupied with wardrobe preparations for the International Quidditch Gala this evening, which is to be hosted in London this year, cannot be bothered to investigate his best friend’s cause of hysteria. Piper hops on a mission to rupture her close friends’ eardrums at least three times a day, most of the time because of things as small as losing a game of Exploding Snaps, so the effort would’ve been for naught. You can even say it’s a regular phenomenon in his life. Non-indicative of anything in need of serious attention.

On the other hand, he’s dealing with a slightly bigger problem: everything for the gala should’ve been in order before noon, which is only thirty minutes away. His Percy, who is sweet and charming and would probably kill another man for him, has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate whenever he gets ready (“Can’t we snog for just another five minutes, babe? Please?”); another regular phenomenon in this household. And tardiness is simply out of the question today, when both of them will be the highlights of the event tonight.

Thalia, nursing a cup of tea for her hangover, walks around the kitchen island toward the girls to take a curious look. Jason jerks in surprise, barely managing to catch the bundle of robes falling out of his hold, when she all but shrieks, “JASON, WHAT HAS THAT TWAT DONE TO YOU?!”

Uh, oh.

When he gathers enough courage to glance her way, his sister has collapsed on a nearby chair. Her sharp face paints a perfect mixture of devastation and rage.

“My sweet, innocent baby brother!” she wails to the ceiling, like there’s an unknowable power above that could answer her woes. Her fingers clutch tufts of her black hair in anguish, like he’s about to be boiled inside a bubbling cauldron right before her eyes. “Debauched and corrupted by that filthy, foul beast!”

There’s an internal defensive system in Jason that’s set up for Percy, activating automatically whenever the man is spoken ill of. It doesn’t care for the offending person, whether they’re family, friend or foe.

“Excuse me?” he thus demands, incredulous by his sister’s exaggerated lament. “That’s my fiancé you’re talking about. What’s even going on?”

“He’s what’s going on!” Thalia yells back, but it’s too late. Her words might as well be the passing wind by then. For Jason, a helpless romantic by default, has already found himself scatterbrained by the word he just uttered.

Fiancé.

Isn’t it so telling of his character that, even in the face of Thalia Grace’s unbridled rage, his heart still embarrassingly flips at the word for the nth time? It’s mad. It's invigorating at the same time. Every time he says it, it’s as if the word has been just newly minted into his vocabulary. Like the idea of it is just dawning on him for the very first time.

And really, can anyone blame his tongue when it tastes honeyed mead every time?

His trembling heart, when the man he’s engaged to is the one and only Percy Jackson?

The giddiness overwhelming his chest, when he’s due being wedded to the love of his life one day, the owner of his heart and soul?

Reality still hasn’t set in completely. One in which he’ll be tying the knot with his Hogwarts sweetheart. Promising a lifetime with him. Loving each other till death do them part, then reunite them in the afterlife. Everything feels like a dream still, rose-coloured and hazy, even when three months have already passed since he said yes.

Like second nature, his thumb finds the lovely band wrapped around his ring finger. A sweet reminder that follows him wherever he goes. Counting days, that seem longer the nearer the date of their happy end and new beginning.

Speaking of which, the date has been easy to decide. And Jason, on his part, thinks their choice is perfect. He knows Percy thinks the same too, so attuned with each other they are; two meshing gears in a well-oiled machine.

After all, what’s more romantic than to have your first kiss as a husband on the date you had as a boyfriend?

The story of their engagement day was an incredible one.

The talk of wizarding Britain for a month straight, it made the headline of the Prophet the very next day, dethroned the current It Witch Drew Tanaka in the cover of Witch Weekly the very next week (“The Wicked has fallen!” Piper had yelled), before making its home in the gossip column for at least three subsequent issues of any known wizarding publication.

Representing the UK, Jason had just sealed their victory against Peru in the World Cup finals that very fateful day. When he had presented the Snitch to Percy, as per their very own personal tradition, Percy had in turn knelt on the grass and stolen Jason’s heart once more. His adorably shaky fingers had unclasped the golden ball to reveal the most brilliant thing Jason had ever seen: a ring of rose gold etched in intricate waves, the head mounted with a sparkling aquamarine.

With the same solemnity, the exact sincerity, his voice held when he had first asked Jason to be his lover, Percy had said:

“Jason Grace, will you marry me?”

There was only one correct answer.

A photo, capturing the moment Jason had jumped into Percy’s arms before kissing him like his life depended on it, would make itself a permanent home on one of the walls of their hallway.

Later that night, with the warmth of afterglow still thrumming under his skin, and the sense of security taking form in the arms wrapped around him, he asked his would-be husband, “What would’ve happened if I’d lost the match?”

Percy made a show of humming in thought, complete with a contemplative frown. Apparently, via means Jason couldn’t even try to comprehend, he’d somehow colluded with the organisers to have the Snitch carry the engagement ring the whole game, with the goal of letting Jason unknowingly catch it.

“I wouldn’t know,” Percy decided, “because you didn’t lose.”

As his fingers drew shapeless patterns on Percy’s fuzzy chest, he mused, “I could have.”

“Nah,” Percy retorted, his voice taking on the stubborn edge that Jason was so intimately acquainted with. “I did my calculations, baby. I knew you’d win before you even got to the stadium.”

“Statistically, my darling, there’s always a possibility that I could,” Jason said matter-of-factly. “What would you've done, then?”

“My calculations were perfect, thank you very much,” Percy said, also matter-of-factly. “So, I still wouldn’t have known!”

“Have you already forgotten that time you’d lost a match against Hufflepuff? A team you had been one hundred percent confident you’d win against?”

“Oh,” Percy drawled. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, his eyes glinted like the rippling ocean under the moonlight. “I see how it is.” His lips, swollen from being kissed so much, bit back a smile. “Making your future spouse recall a traumatic experience now, aren’t you, Mr Jackson-Grace? Right after the best fucking sex we’ve ever had of all times? Shouldn’t you wait at least a month after the wedding to show your true colours?”

“Oh, Mr Grace-Jackson,” Jason replied sweetly, burying his nose into Percy’s sternum. He wanted to stay there forever. “You know I’d play all the cards in my hands whenever we argue.”

The throaty laugh escaping Percy’s lips was siren-like in its melody, stoking the fire within his chest brighter. He wished the sound could stay entrapped in his ear canals forever; he never wanted to stop listening to it.

“Well, if you wanna know so badly,” Percy relented. “In the almost impossible, purely hypothetical, higher-chance-Dumbledore-would-sooner-rise-from-his-grave scenario of you losing…I’d be thoroughly fucked!”

Their laughter twirled together in a dance above their heads.

“I’d probably have to steal the Snitch from the other team too,” Percy said amidst his giggles, “before they unknowingly take your ring across the ocean. Luckily for us,” he grinned, so beguilingly handsome. “I’m rather a prolific Seeker myself.”

His heart an ocean of bliss, Jason stifled a yawn and buried himself deeper into Percy’s embrace. How surreal it felt now, even after years of doing it; to lie in the arms of this beautiful man who wouldn’t just be his lover anymore. Who would also be his husband soon, his partner for life. A dream he didn’t have to wake up from, because it’s now the indubitable reality.

As he basked in such loveliness, a question formed itself in the back of his sleep-addled mind. “Darling.”

“Baby.”

“Should we go for the hyphen route, how do we decide the order of our surnames?”

“Let’s just draw lots tomorrow and call it a day,” Percy said.

“It won’t work with just the two of us, will it?”

“We’re hosting the get-together dinner with the Hogwarts lot, aren’t we?” Percy reminded him, finishing his words with a gigantic yawn. “Let’s do it with them, then.”

“Fantastic,” Jason mumbled. Despite the young night, sleepiness tugged at his eyelids. The rising and falling of Percy’s chest made it impossible to ignore. The cool sensation around his ring finger followed him into his dream, of an ethereal painting of rose petals on the sand and an altar by the beach.

The following day was an event in and of itself. After drawing lots five times in rapid succession, a couple of heated arguments between Thalia, Nico and Reyna that almost turned into a duel, and a chaotic coin toss that somebody had charmed into displaying heads on both sides, the decision was ultimately vetoed by the happy couple in the end.

And so, Jason was proud to announce that he would one day be known as a Mr Jackson-Grace.

“Jason! Jason!”

“Er, what?”

“Care to explain this?!” Thalia’s anguished voice pierces through Jason’s fond recounting of his most favourite memory. ”You’d never say stuff like this before! And to the press of all people? Are you out of your mind?!”

She snatches the newspaper from Piper before shoving the front page in his face. A huge moving photograph, of him smiling genially amidst the many blinding flashes of the camera, adorns half the page. In bold capitalised letters, the headline reads: 

GRACE’S SECRET TO PEERLESS FLYING: “I RIDE MY FIANCÉ EVERY NIGHT.”

His jaw drops against his will. Finding the sufficient words to describe the sheer absurdity is a struggle on its own. After a good ten seconds, however, amusement betrays him in the end. It’s hard not to join in on Piper’s shrill laughter, which has yet to cease after five solid minutes, when you also happen to be the reason.

Merlin. The press can be crazy at times, but he certainly didn’t expect it to be this insane.

“What are you laughing about?!” Thalia demands.

“Okay. In my defence,” he takes a deep breath to compose himself, his grin refusing to go away, “I distinctly remember saying to the reporters that I ride with Percy every night. On our broomsticks. Separately.”

“So that’s why people were giving me funny looks at Diagon Alley,” a voice, dear and familiar, says on his right, just as he feels an arm snakes around his waist.

“Percy!” He didn’t notice their fireplace going off when the man in question Floo-ed in.

“Hello, my sweet.” 

Jason sees his amused grin before his green eyes, still gleaming with the same kind of endearing boyishness from six years ago. As easy as breathing, Percy pulls him by the waist to plant a sweet kiss on the corner of his jaw, unbothered by the soot all over himself. As always, his black hair is a handsomely tousled mess, bangs draping over his lovely eyes gossamer-like. Jason waves the shopping bags away to fussily brush the dust off his fiancé.

“For the record, ladies,” Percy says, his eyes full of gratitude as he stares into Jason’s, “it’s actually every two to three nights.”

“Percy!” Jason admonishes, his reprimand ineffective by his own giggle.

“We should still sue the wankers, though! For all their worth,” Percy adds, serious yet unserious at the same time. He rests his forehead against Jason’s, and they share a fond, helpless grin.

“Merlin’s pants, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth chastises as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Could’ve gone peacefully without knowing that.” Exasperated, she snatches the offending newspaper back, before flipping to a presumably less crazier section.

“And I would’ve hexed your stupid arse to oblivion if Jason didn't love you as much as he does, Jackson,” Thalia supplies. It isn’t as threatening as usual. Her fondness for their display of affection must’ve mellowed her down.

“Love you too, Thals,” Percy throws a cheeky grin her way, chuckling as they watch her face fight off a smile behind her cup.

Jason’s heart squeezes happily. To see two of his most favourite people getting on is a blessing he won’t exchange for anything else.

Percy lets go of his waist, but not before nipping his lower lip affectionately. The spoils of his shopping float along as he crosses to the kitchen, arranging themselves into the arrays of cabinets and drawers and the large refrigerator.

As a half-blood, Percy has insisted on retaining a portion of his Muggle lifestyle. They purchased a home in a Muggle neighbourhood as a result, a quaint double-storey semi-detached house fondly dubbed as the Cabin, a callback from Percy’s favourite place back in his mum’s hometown in New York. It’s only a twenty-minute drive away from the Jackson-Blofis’, filled with everything you could find in a cosy Muggle household. The only recognizable magic consists of the private Floo connection and the Fidelius Charm, to keep the press and some deranged Quidditch fans away.

Over the hours, more of their friends come over. Grover and his girlfriend Juniper; Leo, Hazel and Frank; Nico, Will and Reyna; and Rachel, the last to arrive with her makeup supplies for Piper’s MUA duties. With every familiar face popping out of the fireplace, Jason can see the ever-present smile on Percy’s gorgeous face growing wider, his own heart soaring higher in return. 

Times like this, when their loved ones are close, are the ones they appreciate the most. With everyone present, the walls of the Cabin would illuminate with the glow of camaraderie. Grover, Percy and Leo would run the kitchen to prepare culinary masterpieces. The ladies, a tightly-knit group as ever, would drag Frank in on one of their shenanigans. Nico and Will would hog the TV to watch some 90s soap operas. 

Jason is content watching from the sidelines, often with a mug filled with hot cocoa in hand, occasionally joining whichever faction that wants him around. He feels happy and included in all of them; it feels like the bond they share transcends lifetimes and worlds over.

Jason probably has the best team of stylists ever. Granted, it’s a ragtag team of his friends who don’t style professionally, only as a hobby, but boy do they come through every time he needs to look good in front of the camera. Their teamwork is a spectacle on its own, working seamlessly like a well-oiled sewing machine whenever Jason Grace needs a look (“Lewk,” Piper would always correct him) worthy of the male celebrities’ section of Witch Weekly. 

The process is simple and well-rehearsed, divided according to each member’s talent. Rachel sketches and colours, Annabeth measures and sews, and Piper paints the face. Hazel and Reyna assist on the side, while Thalia sips a glass of firewhisky nearby, occasionally giving her grunts of approval. The men know to stay clear, though Nico and Will would sometimes chime in to provide helpful input.

The theme this time is robin egg blue. Their suits, tailored to match as always, quality rivalling those of Madam Malkin’s, are embroidered gorgeously in shimmering threads to detail patterns of clouds and waves, illustrating the horizon parting the crystalline skies and the tranquil seas. To distinguish the wearer, Percy’s suit is of a slimmer cut to fit his swimmer’s build, whilst Jason’s tapers at the waist to accommodate his own shape. Instead of flowing around the body like Jason’s does, the shine of Percy’s dress robe magically ripples downwards, to mimic merry waves hitting a summertime beach.

When Percy twirls around to showcase his outfit, Jason has never seen a lovelier picture. How is it fair for him to fall for the most beautiful man in the world? He’s not sure he can survive their first fitting in the future.

Then, it is time for makeup. Though he knew he shouldn’t be looking down on Piper’s skills (which are godly, by the way, despite her aversion to wearing any kind of cosmetics herself), it didn’t prevent his usual unfair presumption: nothing she attempts could ever hope to elevate the perfect canvas that is Percy’s face. Perfection cannot be improved, after all, and Percy’s natural features were painted by the Muses.

But once she’s done, and Percy turns to look at him, lo and behold: once again, she has achieved the impossible. Clever enough to leave the canvas as it is, she’s added subtle yet intricate engravings to its frame, tastefully complementing the existing work of art.

Hazel voices out his thoughts helpfully: “Wow. Makeup is really a whole other branch of magic.”

“Funny, because this collection is all Muggle-made,” Rachel says with a sprinkle of smugness.

When his eyes arrive at Percy’s countenance from their frantic travelling up his physique, whatever air that was left inside his lungs departs in a sharp outtake of breath.

A poet would find inspiration from the glitter that hung from the curve of Percy’s long, rich eyelashes; compose songs in the subtle turquoise blended into his eyelids. A painter could paint flowers of the prettiest pigment if they extract the rose of his lips; sandy beaches from the smooth brown of his flawless skin; and the seashells dotting the sand from the shadows of his stubble. His hair, untameable like the roughest of seas, is now subdued to a windswept look that weakens Jason’s knees.

He's no artist, but a strong urge to get a drawing quill and a roll of parchment suddenly overwhelms his chest. A subject like Percy would only allow masterpieces to exist, even if made by hands as untrained as his.

“Breathe, guys,” Leo pipes up.

Oh. Being deprived of air for quite some time, his lungs have long caught on fire. The adrenaline flowing through his veins is better than Quidditch itself.

When did Percy close the distance between them? He’s a few metres away just a second ago, and now Jason can smell the seaside tang of his breath, its warmth caressing his cheeks like sea breeze. Up close, his sea green irises, left untouched by the makeover, turn out the most beautiful. Bright, earnest and pure, just like how they were in the trophy room a million years ago.

“I would kiss you senseless right now,” Percy says, his grin widening into that of the Cheshire Cat’s, “but I can’t do that without ruining our lipsticks.”

Jason’s own makeover has been nothing special. A dash of glitter here, a few brushes of rouge there, over and out. “Frankly, Jason, Mum would probably be pissed if she ever sees me touching your face up,” Piper says, the meaning of her words escaping his understanding. The mirror seems to agree; he hardly sees a difference after she's done.

Not that it matters in the end. After all, he’s always been a poor judge of his own looks. Though judging from Percy’s reaction, she’s probably done an exquisite job. And he only really cares for Percy’s opinion.

“Er, should we leave?” Grover says. “Looks like they’re about to undress each other again.”

“Ew!” exclaims someone else, but Jason is too entranced at this point to know who.

“Alright, everyone out!” Percy announces with a clap that resounds in his head, kind enough to break him out of his silly reverie. “Thank you so much for pretty much everything, but we’re about to head out, and we don’t want to be greeted by a pile of rubble when we get back.”

“Can’t even trust your own friends with house-sitting?” Nico says.

“I’m gonna fuck him as soon as we walk through the door when we’re back,” Percy replies with a shrug, “and I wouldn’t care who’s there to—”

Half of them are out the door before Percy could finish his sentence.

“Works every time,” Percy said, as soon as Thalia, the last of their friends, Floo-ed away in an angry burst of green flames.

“You’re a walking menace.”

“And you love me for it.”

“And I love you for it.”

Jason walks backwards as he guides Percy by the hand towards the back door, not at all worried of running into anything by accident, every inch of the Cabin long mapped into the back of his mind. The evening breeze greets them as they step outside, its scent a little damp and woody. Their most favourite spot to Disapparate together is the backyard, a shrine filled with all kinds of paraphernalia, big or small, narrating tales of their loved ones. Sally’s beds of roses, Estelle’s mini playground, Paul’s tools for his home projects, Thalia’s archery targets; things to miss when they depart, and to look forward to seeing when they arrive home. He already misses all of them. 

Right at the threshold of the pathway leading to their private Quidditch pitch, Percy loosens his hold to lace their fingers together. Where they've always belonged.

“You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

There’s a hint of a whine in Percy’s next words. “Can’t wait to get home already.”

Jason smiles softly. “I’ll be there with you, won't I?

“Oh!” Percy mirrors his expression. “You’re right.”

Home is wherever they’re together, after all.

Before the swirling darkness of Disapparation takes over, Percy’s warm face, evoking all good feelings within those privileged enough to witness, is the last thing Jason sees.

***

Percy isn’t the most self-conscious person in the room, but they really do make quite the pair before the press.

And Merlin, is he not made to be press material.

“And joining us for the gala this beautiful evening is the thrice world champion, the hottest Seeker in the scene, Jason Grace! And his wonderful beau Percy Jackson!” Despite the Sonorus spell casted directly to his throat, the interviewer somehow finds it necessary to shout his announcement anyway, like it’s the only way to be heard above all the clicking noises of the press cameras. His face, in Percy’s honest opinion, looks exceptionally punchable.

All around the press wall, which bears the logos of the International Association of Quidditch and its various sponsors, white flashes assault Percy and Jason’s visions blind as they try for smiles that might as well be grimaces. The only solace is Jason’s fingers intertwining his, a sweet anchor in a sea of madness.

Right this second is Percy’s least favourite part of this whole semi-famous thing he has going on as Jason’s partner. Not that he has any place he’d rather be other than by Jason’s side. Not at all. It’s just that being the centre of attention isn’t very kind to his temperament, and the noise and the flashes and the heat only serve to make things worse.

Ever his hero in shining armor, Jason does his best to direct all the attention to himself, cutting through the questions quickly so they can move on. In the meantime, Percy tries his best to maintain his dwindling composure and stave off his rising nausea. His vision flies everywhere, in need of something easier on the eye to help. Predictably, Jason’s perfect side profile does the trick.

“Hello? Earth to Percy?” a ping of a voice intrudes his already wobbling mindscape. He barely suppresses the urge to growl like a territorial wolf.

“Er, yes?”

“Other than staring at your fiancé all evening, which is understandable,” the interviewer jokes, like he ever has the right to, “what are you most excited for in this event?”

Deep breaths. Remember your PR training. Make Frank proud.

“Going home, definitely,” Percy says, his next words accompanied with a wink. “Jason and I have our nightly riding to do.”

Jason laughs before playfully pinching his side. “He meant broomstick riding, by the way. No funny headlines tomorrow, folks.”

“Or our lawyer will keep in touch!” Percy adds with a cheeky grin. Jason laughs again as he waggles his index finger at the interviewer—a lighthearted warning of a not-so-lighthearted consequence.

“Cheeky as always!” the interviewer says cheerfully. His posture betrays otherwise, visibly unsettled by the threat lurking underneath their unassuming smiles. “Now, Jason, what do you think of the new faces for this upcoming—”

Despite his discomfort for interviews, Jason glows like the star he is, the perfect picture of a celebrity sportsman. The marvel of his glasses perching on the strong curve of his nose serves as Percy’s distraction for the next few minutes of press torture. Then, before he can give in to Disapparating back to the Cabin on the spot, they’re finally, finally being led towards the heart of the celebration.

As they walk through the grand double doors and into the gargantuan hall serving as the venue, Jason’s hand around his own tightens in a quick squeeze, as if to say, ‘Good job out there.’

It could also mean nothing, but he finds himself preening anyway.

Out of biased nostalgia, he’s inclined to believe that the Great Hall back in Hogwarts is the most magical place when it comes to hosting a grand event. Now that he’s here, this place certainly gives it a run for its Galleons. The ceiling is conceptually familiar, charmed in a way to showcase the astral magnificence above, but the interior design, boasting impressive Ancient Roman architecture, certainly exudes more pzazz. Every inch of it speaks of grandeur, dialled up to eleven, regaled by the marble floor and the pillars of gold, giving off the illusion of an ancient godly residence.

In celebration of Quidditch and the sportsmanship it brings out of every attendee, waiters zoom around on leisure broomsticks, handing out glasses of overpriced beverages to those desiring to drink the night away. Replicas of the Golden Snitch flit over people’s heads, dangling lucky prizes to whoever manages to catch them by hand (no brooms allowed). Tables topped with crystal covers, decorated with swaths of silk ribbons, boast fancy china plates of culinary specialties hailing from every member country of the Association. The aroma hanging over the dining area is enough to make anyone with working taste buds salivate. The festive air is so electric, Percy could almost feel its buzz within his bones.

Merlin, he thinks ruefully, it’s gonna be a long night.

An event like this, in which the majority of its attendees are world-class athletes, can only mean one thing: good-looking people frolicking around everywhere. People whose winks can make the average Quidditch fan blush in an instant, whose musculature can make anyone weak in the knees…for those who are looking, this place is a prime opportunity for a prospective relationship, serious or otherwise. More than once Percy could recognize people he’d seen countless times in magazines, some of them legends whose active years even preceded his time in Hogwarts.

Despite that, it’s funny how nobody holds a candle to Jason. Pale in comparison, pitifully eclipsed, reduced to the shadows, by the walking sun by his side.

Jason’s ensemble for the night seems to agree with him, billowing around his fit body like a cool superhero’s cape. The eye-catching robin egg blue perfectly complements his divine exterior, making every feature pop; his eyes bluer, his lips redder, his hair as if spun from pure gold. Matching robes was probably the best decision they’ve ever made as a celebrity couple. Percy loves how it tells everyone else who he belongs to, who he belongs with.

I’m the luckiest man in the world, aren’t I?

“I heard Albus has already started his first year at Hogwarts,” Jason says out of the blue, eyes casted towards a corner of the hall, unaware of how musical he sounds in Percy’s ears. “He’s grown so big already.”

Percy follows his gaze to see the Potters, who—sans their infamous eldest child—are lounging around a table at the VIP section. Despite drawing every eye in the vicinity to their general direction, they mostly keep to themselves, only making polite conversations with the starry-eyed passersby when necessary. The boy in question, a downright clone of his legendary dad, is particularly gloomy-looking.

“And little Lily! It feels like only yesterday since she’s this small,” Jason says adoringly, hands shaped as if holding an invisible Quaffle.

“You sound like you’re the one giving birth to her.”

“Half of the League players think they did,” Jason agrees. He then sighs, in a longing way that makes Percy’s heart clench. “Having kids must be so lovely.”

“Wait ‘til we get home, baby. I’ll put as many as you want inside you.”

Jason pauses, eyes widening in surprise, before a hopelessly infatuated grin cracks his face.

“Oh my wonderfully vulgar fiancé,” he whispers, chuckling amusedly as he closes the already small distance between them. The azure of his eyeliner sparkles as he blinks at Percy, wondrous, like his offhanded dirty talking is ever something to wonder about. He noses Percy’s cheek, affectionate, as if they’re not at the edge of the polychromatic dance floor about to headline a ball. “You’re lucky I’m beyond head over heels for you.”

Overhead, the emcee announces their presence and implores them to take the floor. They walk hand in hand as they do, soaking in the cheers all over. As the band begins to play the flowy tune of an idyllic waltz, Jason turns around, places his hand over his heart, and takes a bow before Percy. The fabric of his robe flows around him majestically, in tandem with his elegant gestures. 

Mine, Percy thinks.

“May I have this dance?” Jason extends his hand out, offering a beacon of happiness.

Percy takes that warm, solid grip into his own. Goosebumps run down every inch of him as he feels the callouses that have long etched themselves into his own skin. Everything else tunes itself out. It’s a wonderful feeling that never ages: as familiar as home, yet so novel every time.

With Jason Grace, everything is a never-ending loop of a brand new experience.  

Jason’s other hand touches the small of his back. With a slight push inwards, he brings their bodies flush together. Like they’re created so, their fingers connect seamlessly. In a flash, the surrounding banishes itself into non-existence, and they’re left all alone.

“I’m all yours,” Percy replies, right before he’s brought to a twirl for a night to remember.

Ah. Twelve years old Percy would probably cry at the sight of them dancing like this. Maybe wish he’d grow faster just to rush headlong into this moment.

Twenty-four years old Percy is rather simple; he’s the happiest he ever feels.

This happiness will certainly grow when Jason walks down the aisle towards him in the near future, ready to proclaim their sacred, eternal vows.

But now?

To dance in their private bubble of bliss, while the rest of the world ceases to exist?

Nothing could ever compare—past, present and future.

“Ow,” Jason says as Percy steps on his foot.

Way to ruin the moment. “Whoops.”

“Oh, darling.” Jason’s voice is hoarse and thick. “I’m so happy I could cry. Thank you for snapping me out of it.”

Percy decides against admitting that he’s three seconds away from bawling himself. Blinking the sting away, he resorts to giving Jason something better: his most charming, carefree grin yet. “Anytime.”

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, aren’t I?”

Jason yelps a little as Percy pushes him down to kiss him deep.

“Get over yourself,” he says against Jason’s lips. Cradled in his arm, Jason’s broad back is pliant and warm. “I am.”

And thus the dance floor transforms itself into clouds for good. Everywhere around them turns into the vast blue sky, unlimited. Jason mirrors his face, all luscious pink and pearly whites, woven and painted and carved from the finest stuff of dreams, before he takes him for the soaring of his lifetime.

They stumble upon the Potters on their way to sneak out, not even an hour into the gala. It’s one of their signature moves in any event, common knowledge to any organiser at this point. One that Percy finds to be a lot of fun. Accept the invitation, create a spectacle, then ditch the place before the celebration reaches its peak.

He didn’t expect the most famous wizard in the world would also do the same.

“Hello, my good chaps,” says the Boy Who Lived. “Off to escape too?”

“Oh!” Jason exclaims, reverting to an eleven-year-old meeting his hero for the first time. “Good evening, Mr Potter, Ginny.”

“Funny how you call my wife by her first name but not me,” Harry Potter says amusedly. “Just call me Harry.”

Out of kindness, Percy does not point out the second flustered, “Oh!” coming out of Jason. “I’m so sorry. It’s the first time we ever talked, so I wasn’t sure if it’s proper.”

“Don’t sweat it, Jason,” Ginny says kindly. “A friend of mine is a friend of Harry’s.”

“Right,” Harry says.

“Right!” Jason says sheepishly. After a second of visibly collecting himself, he gestures towards Percy with a grand wave, like presenting a masterpiece. Always doing the most during introductions. “And this is my very lovely fiancé, Percy Jackson.”

Percy elbows him good-naturedly before giving the family a small wave. “Hi.”

“Go on, kids,” Harry says. “Introduce yourselves.”

Like Weasley-made firecrackers, so full of life: “Hi, I’m Lily! I’m a huge fan of yours, Mr Grace!”

The way Jason glows with adoration is one for the books. Percy almost feels jealous of a child. Almost.

“It’s an honour, Miss Potter. Please, call me Jason,” Jason says with a princely bow, rewarded with a giggle out of the youngest Potter.

From the other kid, an almost inaudible, “Hullo,” escapes. So faint, like the whisper of wind over the spindly branches of the Forbidden Forest. Percy has to strain his ears just to catch it. “Albus.”

“Hello!” Jason says. “I heard it’s your first year at Hogwarts, Albus. Having a good time over there?”

Wrong question. It doesn’t escape both of them the way Ginny whispers to herself, “Oh, dear.” Harry himself has gone stock still, exchanging a worried look with his wife.

When Albus says nothing and just toes the floor with one of his leather shoes, Jason takes the hint with stride and barely a crack to his charming demeanour. “Don’t worry if you aren’t. Hogwarts isn’t the end-all be-all of your life, and you’re barely starting! I’m sure you’ll get the hang of things soon enough.”

“School sucked for me most of the time too. ‘specially when I started,” Percy adds with a shrug. “You’ll be okay. Just find a cute kid to crush on secretly for five years like I did, and use that as motivation to survive your every day.”

“Percy!” Jason exclaims sheepishly, flustered.

“Fine. A best friend can work too!” He leans in so only Albus can hear. “Nerdy blond boys just worked better in my case.”

Oh, look. There’s a hint of a blush on those freckled cheeks now, barely hidden by the raised shoulders trying to cover equally pink ears. One way or another, his words have hit a mark within the boy. Mayhaps they’re kindred souls; he somehow knows their situations aren’t so dissimilar.

He pushes his luck just a tad further. “As long as they’re there, right?”

Though Albus is still adamant to not meet any of their gazes, a few seconds pass before he finally nods. The looks of relief shared between Harry and Ginny are palpable. Percy gives himself a mental pat on the back. Silently, he wishes the young boy all the best.

Maybe he can manage this whole parenting thing. In the far, unforeseeable future, perhaps.

“James didn’t come?” Jason asks the couple. His question is met with two pairs of rolling eyes.

“Oh, he was here. For all of five minutes,” Ginny explains with a hint of exasperation. “Off with his godbrother as soon as he got the chance.”

“I reckon he’s already home by now,” Harry adds. “Which is good, to be fair, because it’s way past their bedtimes. Well, then.” He gives a nod to each of them. “‘Till we meet again, gentlemen.”

“It’s nice meeting you lovely couple,” Ginny says as they all exchange their parting handshakes.

Lily gives them an enthusiastic wave in parting, and Albus finally works up the courage to look them in the eyes. Percy gives the kid what he dubs as his big brother smile, and is rewarded with another determined nod.

Once the Potters Disapparated in a deafening crack, Jason laces their fingers together. He sighs in fondness once more, blissfully unaware of its effect on Percy. “Kids are so lovely, aren’t they?”

And if that isn’t a blatant hint for what awaits him at home, Percy hasn’t a clue what is.

The moon is reminiscent of its shape during their escapade to the Astronomy Tower a millennium ago. 

There are no stakes this time, however. No risk of getting caught by professors or annoying caretakers and their tattling cats. No need to sneak around telescopes and globes while painstakingly covering their tracks. No sense of urgency of impending deadlines, of running out of time, or of counting days until one of them quit Quidditch for good. 

Because now, they have all the time in the world.

Percy and Jason’s private Quidditch pitch is located in a vast area enlarged by magic, its true form being a measly portion of their gated backyard. The spell, of course, was performed by the joint efforts of the brains of their gang, the pitch itself solely of Annabeth’s architectural prowess despite her supposed disinterest for Quidditch. The structure of the building is an almost one-to-one replica of the iconic pitch at Hogwarts, minus the colours of the four Houses found in the decor (which was replaced by their favourite shade of blue as per their personal wishes). Jason’s current team sometimes use it as their base, but most of the time, it is the only witness to Percy and Jason’s private, nightly riding.

Tonight, Jason has a little bit of a surprise for him.

“You still have that old thing?” Percy says amusedly, as Jason, in an impressive show of wandless magic, Vanishes the dust off a very familiar broomstick.

“It’s the broomstick I used when you beat me for the first time,” Jason says casually, slotting the handle between his legs, familiarising with the sensation of it underneath him. He’s never looked more at home. “You bet I’m gonna keep it forever.”

“And you think that’s gonna help you now?” Percy replies, making a show of looking unimpressed.

By today’s standards, the broomstick might as well be an ancient artefact. A far cry from Jason’s current beast reserved for tournaments, on which he would perform gravity defying moves like the god he is, a state-of-the-art, one-of-a-kind flying machine handcrafted exclusively for him by the top broomstick makers in Japan.

“If I can’t use any kind of broomstick to beat an old retired school player,” Jason says innocently, “can I even call myself one of the top three Seekers in the world?”

Percy rolls his eyes, prompting an amused snort out of his fiancé. Saying ‘top three’ was just another instance of Jason’s unnecessary humility; he’s officially the no. 1 player, thus the no. 1 Seeker, in the world.

Not that Percy would ever go down without a fight. Especially against the best opponent he could ever have.

Kicking off the ground on one of Jason’s spare broomsticks, which has seen his victory in the World Cup finals four years ago, Percy taunts, “Well, this school player is about to end his retirement just to kick your arse tonight.”

“Fantastic.” Jason’s scar stretches as he grins, the curve of his mouth wide as a hungry wolf's. Despite riding the school standard broomstick, his takeoff is as seamless as ever, like an eagle taking flight. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And just like that, they’re flying in tandem with one another, still mostly dressed from the gala. With the robe out of the way, the waistcoat hugs Jason in such a sinful way that emphasises his tight waist.

Percy can’t wait to strip everything off him.

“Remember this other old friend?” Jason says, unveiling yet another surprise as he unclasps his fingers.

The dark does nothing to diminish the golden shine flitting out of his hand. While every single one of the little buggers looks the same to Percy most of the time, he can tell the significance of this particular Golden Snitch. From the way Jason looks at it with an exceptionally adoring gaze, it’s none other than the one that had witnessed the day they became fiancés.

“You know how some old couples would renew their vows?” Jason asks. Percy nods slowly, his heart in his throat. “I was thinking of us doing the same thing.”

His pulse picks up speed. “We’re not married yet.”

“We aren’t, but in our case, I’m not talking about wedding vows.” A deep breath. An earnest gaze. Then, “I’d like a chance to renew our proposal.”

Percy’s chest is a limitless world, of which his soul makes its oyster. “Oh?”

“I never had the chance to propose to you back,” Jason says, a little sheepishly. “Mostly because I never thought I’d be able to outdo yours—the singular most magical thing to ever happen to me.” At the sight of that smile turning a tad more smug, Percy’s poor mind goes into overdrive. “But that changes now.”

“Yeah?”

In a steady voice, Jason announces: “I challenge you to a Seeking game, Percy Jackson. The first to catch the Golden Snitch shall win the chance to propose the other once again.”

The night can’t get any better. “Bring it on, Jason Grace.”

In this game of their own design, the rules are rather simple. The beginning entails letting the Snitch wander off for five minutes, exploring the nook and cranny of the pitch to find the perfect hiding spot, before the Seeking begins. Then, whoever catches it first wins. Simple and, with Jason as his opponent, bloody fun. After playing this game for probably a couple thousand times, Percy is proud to say he’s not falling off too much behind the best Seeker in the world.

(He has a rising suspicion that Jason is secretly training him to play professionally, but that’s a topic for later.)

The measly five minute period is usually the time they’d have a quick chat about nothing or anything. Which, to him, means everything. Sometimes, they’d taunt each other good-naturedly, or playfully try to jostle the other off his broomstick. Most of the time, though, they just revel in the evening air in companionable silence, soaking in each other’s wonderful presence.

Tonight is a tiny bit different.

Almost coyly, yet very coquettish somehow, Jason flies closer to hold his hand and play with his fingers. Embarrassingly, despite everything they've done in bed together, Percy’s heart skips a beat. Their engagement rings are off for now, carried away by the tiny flying ball for this silly little game.

“You know, darling,” his beautiful fiancé says, “we should try for a baby tonight.”

This is bait, he knows that much. But at this point, after years in this perpetually sweet romance, he might as well be an unassuming fish.

Desire pours out of his lips in a rich tone, sultry and deep. “Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t mind a head start for one before we take our vows.” Jason’s face is so close, their noses are practically brushing against each other. His scent, of butterbeer and strawberries and clouds and invigorating musk, is downright divine. “Build our own little family as soon as possible.”

It's probably bad to have a stiffy while flying, isn't it? That day, Percy learns that wood against wood is rather an uncomfortable combination.

“I’d love that.”

“And you’re gonna make it so good for me tonight, aren’t you?”

Oh, he’ll make it so good for him, alright. So fucking good, Jason won’t be able to walk properly for days. In fact, if there’s even a sliver of possibility that he can, he’ll have Jason out of the game for nine months straight.

“I’ll rock your whole world, baby.”

Like a goddamn puppy, Jason whines needily, before locking their lips together in a searing kiss. Percy momentarily forgets everything. Even himself. “Mhm.”

When Jason pulls back, his face is lovelier than the full moon. His half-lidded gaze is the epitome of allure, his lips a promise to bliss. Percy dies, then comes back, all within a blink of an eye. 

Filthily needy, yet so wholeheartedly sincere, Jason whispers hotly against his mouth: 

“I love you, Percy.”

No paradise could be better than this.

“I love you more—OI!” 

Like a balloon, his reply inflates and bursts into surprised, almost indignant cackles, right after Jason leaves him in a burst of wind. It’s answered with Jason’s own melodic laughter, peals of it ringing into the night, diminishing the farther he zooms away.

Looks like the bloke has some Slytherin in him, after all. Not that it’s a surprise; Percy has poured more than enough inside him, in more ways than one.

Oh, well. While victory is exquisite, he doesn’t really mind losing this time. He has long won. He’s now just indulging the rewards to his endeavours. In fact, there’s little to lose when it comes to loving Jason Grace. His soul is but a measly price.

Letting out a whoop of sheer, unadulterated joy, he presses his torso closer to the handle, summons every bit of his Seeking skills within his body, and rockets after his beloved.

Barreling against the chilly night air, he thinks for the millionth time: what an incredible thing, this love is.

And the world simply agrees. It is pure as the pearlescent moonglow bathing over the pitch, exhilarating like the roaring wind around him. Astoundingly magnificent, like the keeper of his heart soaring over the clouds on a broomstick, unstoppable by none.

Years have passed by, yet Jason still remains the boy that never fails to set his heart ablaze. Everlastingly bright.

The end.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

Shadows of their Hatred

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Length: 7.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, child illness, scars and deformities, mentions of miscarriage, discussions of menstruation, insecurities, mild disturbing imagery

Notes: Takes place congruently to the second story section of Scattered Memories of the Starks, but does not require that one to be read to understand this as that section is from Jons separate pov. This is just a little detour flashback in the readers life which sparked my interest to write. Adjacent Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It was already set in stone, there was no other way to put it you knew. The raven which came had laid out what it was he was coming for and without a shadow of a doubt your father was never going to debate or refuse such a decision. Laying it all out for you to hear when he pulled you into the room of the painted table alone, what was going to happen and if you were honest, you were a little proud of yourself for surprising him.

You did not debate or argue either, you understood why he was choosing this. There was no shying away that your mother in particular had struggled with your attitude for some time now. Arguably of course your septa had struggled with it the most, but you had long since ceased to care about combating with her verbally. Your father on the other hand?

Only a fool would pick a fight with Stannis Baratheon, and you were not that fool. Instead here you stood in front of the mirror on your cabinet trying to debate what kind of acceptable did your dress look. Face scrunching up once more you almost turned right around and tossed it back onto your bed before choosing another.

Sighing deeply, you wished you had just one person here who would be able to tell you if you were overthinking it. Your mother would simply tell you to stop fussing and get moving already, the only other one who would be around to say anything was Allard but you would not trust him with such a thing, he would mislead you for his own amusement you knew.

It shouldn't matter this much to you, but it was not just King Robert coming, it was the Queen too. And you were supposed to be making a good impression on the Queen your father said.

By the time you stood out by the back gate entrance to the castle, you were busy adjusting the wrappings around Shireen as your mother kept her wrapped to her front. The greyscale had stayed on the side of her face it effected and it seemed it would always be part of her. Somewhat covering her more over the head, you instead now of worrying what you looked like, you worried a new thing.

Would they judge Shireen for it? Think her contagious or ill? Part of the company was your own blood, surely they had mercy which some may not otherwise. The stern voice of your father was what finally turned your fussing away from her and towards him leaving the castle doors with a call of your name. “Tonight is important for you. First impressions with the Queen can only be done once, so you will be putting your best behaviour on tonight.”

Nodding dutifully, you moved swiftly to stand beside him, your mother and Shireen on his other. Your voice low but ridding itself of the temptation to say something clever. “You have my word, father.”

Quick on the draw he was, flatly retorting back, “Your word will mean something only after you've proven you can tuck away the attitude for a single night.” Your head whipped up to the side with a glare narrowing on your face when he met it right back with a raised eyebrow. Well, didn't your father always seem one step ahead of you.

Huffing out dramatically only for him to hear, you spoke back just as dry. “Don't invite Renly here next time then.”

Your father did not reply, you having him on such a comment that time. All of you standing still and calm as the sounds of approaching horses begun to fill the air. You had not seen your King Uncle since you were a very young girl, from what you remembered he was far closer to Renly then he was Stannis in demeanour. Meaning the good behaviour wished of you by your father no doubt would be tempted by your uncles with joy. If only to irk Stannis specifically from his brothers.

Horsemen came riding through the gates, the sigils flying high in the hands of men carrying them showed the both similarities and yet the great differences between the two Houses. First your eye caught was a deep red. The golden lion attached standing on its hind legs as it looked to roar as imposing as it could be. But on the side much more eye catching was the same which flew high in the winds of you home.

The same sigil which had taken over that of the three headed dragon occupying this island for hundreds of years. You recalled little of the days when the Targaryean sigil was still all over your home, but much of its memory was stained behind what could not be hidden. Yet the grimness it was felt did not match the golden yellow of the Baratheons. A crown atop the sigil and too on its hind legs was perched a stag. The magnitude showing off its size despite the animal it was. A trick, the mighty fury of the Baratheons stronger then the image such a stag could look in comparison to the lion.

Those riding in after all in order had your sharp eyes watching close just as your father did beside you. The white cloaks came in after, blowing in the wind it rose against attached to golden armour. Drenched in a luxury unlike anything the men of your own household guard wore. Behind the helms you could not identify either of the two men riding first in through the gate, but one still had your eyes narrowing.

Looking without blinking, whomever it was behind the helm had found something interesting in your standing presence. By the time you looked away, they had yet to stop their unnerving stare. The carriage following was not often used here. Your mother not often making her way into the villages on the other side of the darker woods between here and there, but you, your father and others would always ride horses rather then be ferried as such.

No doubt you thought, the Queen and Prince would be inside. If the stories boasted about the beauty of the Queen, Cersei Lannister spoke even half truth, such a carriage was no doubt abysmal to the sort of fine craftsmanship which Lannister gold could provide to match. But it was what was here, and it too, had been repainted and re carved to rid itself of the black and the three headed dragons all over it.

The next you recognized, was one you had seen not terribly long ago. The past few years you felt as if you spent more time on ships then in one place. On a ship to visit Storms End when winter had hit, and you needed to wait until the storms blew over to return home. Three moons that took, and you were on a ship home. Then three moons after that when it was over, you were one more on another ship to White Harbour. Half a year you were in the North before parting early to once again, get on a ship to make it home in time to see your sister born. Now you were about to get on a ship again, it never ended your travels did.

But it was in Storms End which you spent those three months enjoying your time with the youngest of the Baratheon brothers. Renly was only eight years older then you, and treated you far more like a brother does a sister then an uncle does a niece. He was the easiest to know of them, but your nerves of putting a good face on had diminished your ability to return his easy nod of greeting to you.

Finally clearing the way, there he was. Two Kingsguard beside him, riding up and all in the company suddenly felt the air turn as serious as ever. Your father, always a man of duty and respect kneeled first, then you as all the rest followed afterwards. The sound of wind blowing and footsteps the only thing in your senses other then the ground before you. Dark boots appearing to your fathers front and a hand beckoning all to stand.

He looked different then you remembered. King Robert. A girl of three when you met him first, but he was as tall, and lean and feirce as you thought a King should be. You had understood why the songs sung such fury for his strength and power in those days but that did not quite match the man who stood before you now. Larger, but not in a good way. As if the nine years had taken their tole and not quite a warrior stood before you.

The green eyes below the scowl which matched his brother in front of him, matching the brother behind him, and matching you short and small beside all so vividly sharing the same blood there was no denying the relation, size not withstanding. But in that tense quiet, your father would always wait for him to be spoken to first in such a scenario.

The King looked from him, around to others, then to you with that same scowl and a question following a small tilt of his head. Turning back to your father, his voice was just as you recalled at least. Powerful and coming deep from the gut nodding towards you. “You teaching her how to forget what smiling is, or what?”

Your father did not laugh, but was well aware that the longer the silence went on the more your smirk threatened to break. The King raising an eyebrow at you only for a grin to break out, managing to at least hide the laugh. He though, did it for you. Laughing mighty and loud as he spared no more time, calling your name fondly and enveloping you in a hug as you replied with your own matching warmth. “Your grace.”

A hand patting his brother on the arm before your mother gave a polite curtsy as yours. Leaning more to see your sister, once more with a held back breath did all wait for what would be said. Asking with a calmness, “And what name did we give the new little one here?” Your mother answering with something held back almost in worry you detected, that it was Shireen. Robert though, reached out running a gloved hand over the top of her head. “More than glad to see she pulled through.”

If you could've let out a bigger exhale of relief, your lungs would've left with it.

Descending the steps of the carriage, hand holding a small blonde haired boy did you finally see her for the first time. In truth, it was intimidating already. All knew you were to impress the Queen tonight and you did not see how a girl like you could do that. Her hair was as long as yours, but the same matching blonde of her son. Her dress rich and vibrant, even with the bump of a baby underneath did she look as if she got up in the morning this beautiful.

Coming to her husbands side did the greetings match the same. A bow and kiss on the hand she offered your father as you and your mother both curtsied to follow. Her eyes spent little time on your mother and sister, instead flickering to you. In the corner of your vision, one of the Kingsguard removed his helm, and you realized the eyes watching you before just as she did now. Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queens twin brother watched you as curious as she did before parting ways.

The only relief coming when Renly had approached you as crowds begun to dissipate in preparation for the evening to come. Much like Robert, Renly gave an easy hug all the same but with far more energy. Nearly crouching down to your eye level he smiled, “And here I thought I wouldn't need to bend to see you so much. Tell me my dear niece, have you grown a single inch since I last saw you?”

Your scowl towards him only made him laugh as he stood tall again. Turning you in place and pushing you further into the courtyard towards the castle as he looked up and around. “I should've brought you to Storm's End more often had I known this was where Stannis was locking you up in.”

Quick on the tongue your politeness had left with ease. “I'm not locked in here, Renly.”

He gave a jesting look of doubt to you, as he motioned to someone behind you as he spoke. “No? So if I go see your chambers now, it won't look like your stuck in a dungeon?” Yes it was dark and grim, but so was your chambers in Winterfell. You saw nothing wrong with the rooms you lived in. Trying to turn though to see what he was motioning to, Renly kept you looking forward with a playful disapproval. “Now, now, don't spoil the surprise just yet.”

Head jolting back a bit you asked, “What surprise?”

Somewhat ignoring you, Renly instead changed questions. “Is there someone who can escort my friends here to your chambers, before it gets ruined out here?” Your head tilted before nodded. Turing to your right, you shouted a little bit to where you could see him speaking to Matthos.

“Allard,” Crossing the way, he came up easily as he gave a small bow to Renly as you continued. “Could you show..whoever my Uncle is hiding behind me to my room?”

“At once little lady. Come, lads. It's a needlessly complicated walk on your own.”

Renly seemed to keep you occupied for a little bit out here. Narrowing your eyes to see better you gestured over to where the Queen was with her son. “Is the Prince shy? I haven't even met my cousin yet.”

Nearly whistling, Renly guided you even further away more towards the castle finally. “I'd go on hoping you don't meet him if I were you. A repulsive little creature Joffery is.”

Your mouth fell open as your face twisted into a high disapproval. “Renly, that's quite rude.” He only laughed, pulling you to his side telling you that one day you would figure it out. Whatever that meant. Once the path followed that to the corridor your chambers were in you heard no one around, and thus your surprise was once again lacking in your head of what it could be. “It's the next one.”

Passing Shireens room, your door was left open. Renly motioned for you to go in first, and thus far looking around you saw nothing new. Your desk, books, shelves all the same. Paper and ink all laid out in precise organization with subsequent letters you were to answer being sat out before each page as if to ensure you knew who to prioritize first. “Not much personality you have in here.”

Rolling your eyes you wandered into the middle, still seeing nothing and beginning to wonder if he was putting you up. “I don't need much, you know. I mostly sleep in here or read. Normally I'm with Shireen or father, so I don't quite have much reason to-”

Finally looking to the corner where your bed was by the wall, your curtains blowing in the afternoon wind as the sounds of the waves and sea still filled the air, your sheets though were covered with something new. Turning with a raised eyebrow in question, Renly silently motioned for you to go look on your own.

Slow steps you took, but it was no mistake once you got to it. Your hands ran over the material to find the softest silk you'd ever touched. Picking it up, it was delicate but beautiful. A dress of gold, elaborate and fanciful in ways your dresses never were. The stitching hidden in the design like antlers of stags as it was made just right for your size. Coming up to your right, Renly hovered with a smile you did not see. Your own eyes wide in awe with a whisper, “Is this for me?”

“It is.” There was a pride in his voice, and for once not one that was also smug. “I had it made to fit your measurements perfect. The silk brought all the way from Qarth.” Repeating the word Qarth in wonder, you ran over what looked like places around your arms and back skin would show only to find it was an even finer stitching of lace, the length draping along the floor like pooling water. “You'll be with the family in Kings Landing, which means you'll properly be one of us now. You should look like it. And this is only the first, once you're settled we can start having things made for you properly just like this.”

Your voice barley a whisper as you felt your heart light inside you. “I've never owned something this beautiful before..”

Chuckling, he pulled you more into his side fondly. “Well, we'll have to change that wont we?”

It felt even better on then it did in your hands. Even in what should have been a more stuffy air in the great hall turned dining area for a feast did you feel cool in the golden silk. Made for this feast, Renly echoed what your father had told you. Make a good impression to the Queen and you would need a fine dress to start that.

Grateful at least, you did not need to sit with the adults. Your father and mother with the King and Queen at the head table, but others sat with you lower down from them as music played. Filling things with life and livelihood as you ate. Terribly grateful you were that your septa was not here to lecture you as with your main supper did you add a blueberry tart to your plate. Renly got along easy with the others here, and you counted yourself with the luck of seven blessings that there was no awkwardness between your uncle and who you sat with of the Seaworths.

Laughing with Matthos, you could see from the corner of your eye your father now up and about speaking to Robert. It was when your eyes caught your fathers, did his gaze flicker up above you and in the same instance did a woman appear to your side. “Her grace the Queen requests a meeting, my lady.”

Nodding to her, your eyes met your fathers once more and you nearly gave him a slight narrowing glare that he had left as far from her side as possible as quick. She is your aunt he told you, but that also seemed to mean playing nice with her fell onto you and not him whatsoever. Perhaps, it was only you who could see the jesting mock in the slight way he raised an eyebrow at you. Few could recognize your fathers humour outside of you.

Approaching the main table, there now only sat your mother and the Queen as you once more curtsied as perfect as you had practiced.”My Queen.”

The smile on her face you could not quite detect what it meant, not in such a young age but it certainly was not the same as the one on your mother next to her. Hers normally what you would look as, stern but serious as she was quiet but still, you had your duty tonight. Queen Cersei's hair was done up in an elaborate style you had never seen before, but was quite common from what you could tell of the other southron women which accompanied their journey. Affirming your name you gave a nod as she smiled brighter. “What a lovely dove you are. Tell me, how old are you?”

Stand tall, make eye contact, keep a proper smile at all times and answer with one as well. All the steps you repeated in your head as you answered. “Twelve, your grace.”

Her eyes widened a little with an amusement to follow. Looking you over more curiously, she added with the same lightness a comment you had not quite understood. “Pardon me, but that does come at a surprise. You look rather mature for such an age.” With a laugh, she leaned more towards you from across the table. “I imagine once the rest of you fills out, we will have quite a bountiful round of suitors requesting a visit to the capitol, won't we?”

Once more, you had not really understood what she meant. Nor did you recognize the way your mothers eyes flickered towards her and back, with something of a worry in them. But she stayed silent, knowing letting you play this part tonight was what was necessary. A gentle breath of a laugh left as your head dropped humble to whatever compliment was hidden in her riddles. “Perhaps I will have to wait and see if my height agrees with such an idea first.”

A shake of her head, eyes narrowing in her own jest. “I have no doubt in that. What is a Baratheon if they do not grow to be tall and furious one day?” She changed subjects rapidly but with a passing ease, almost you wondered if she was testing how well you could keep up with her. “Your uncle went to great lengths to have such a beautiful dress made for you, I can only image what more fine beauty we will be able to find on you with the finest seamstresses in the country.”

“I could only be so honoured, your grace.”

Her next question though, came out of nowhere it felt. “Tell me, dove, have you bled yet?”

The practiced bright smile on your face hesitated, eyes narrowing into something you did not understand the meaning behind as you looked at her curiously but on the air of suspicious. You did not see the point in asking, nor what interest she would have in it if you had said yes. Maester Cressen had said that you were what some called a summer flower. That most flowers bloom bright and early in spring, but some stay small and underdeveloped until the heat of summer finally hits them and they blossom into something magnificent. That the growing of girls can be somewhat the same, since you had returned from Winterfell the last visit to ask why it seemed like the Stark boys were growing up quickly and you felt like you still weren't. But that had to do with a discussion between you and your Maester. Not the Queen.

Your only response was a slow shake of your head to indicate no, but she once again rapidly switched the subject as if nothing strange had passed you by. “I've heard remarkable things about how bright and intelligent you are, I'm eager to see what proper lady of the court we will be able to turn you into.”

Smile again, stand up straight and once again be considerate and eager you reminded yourself again. “I am looking forward to it greatly, my Queen.”

Turning to spare a glance to your mother, she nodded you over with a tone less abrasive then something in her eyes you still couldn't tell if it was worry or not as she called your name. “If you would be so so kind, I think your sister is long passed time to be in bed.”

Walking over close you leaned over the table and with an ease transferred Shireen into your arms. Giving now a hands free curtsy to the Queen once more, “Your Grace.” Before making your way through the crowded hall towards the doors adjacent to your right. Turning to look at your sister, you shifted one hand to raise up and dance along with her hands reaching for you. A smile shining on your face leaning down to grin more at her, bringing a giggle out of Shireen even more.

Unbeknownst to you, the discussion had not ended with your leave. The Queen had been watching you walk away, as Selyse was watching her. “Your daughter will thrive in the capitol. A beautiful girl like her shouldn't be hidden away in a place like this forever.” Selyse's worry flickered from Cersei to watching you walk away none the wiser with Shireen before the guards opened the door to the main corridor and off you disappeared.

Already she had seen the way some of the older boys in the hall had been looking at you in that dress, and she did not like the thought of what sort of thriving the Queen was intending. You were but an innocent girl still, whatever thoughts of beauty any boys were having towards you were far too soon, but she also knew, she would not have a choice in that matter once you were gone.

Everything was packed. Chests all by the door to your chambers, and little sat left but the furniture, bedding, and what books and whatnot you did not care to take. Your own figure was sat with your back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of you as one corner of your room sat in a state of disarray. A long cabinet pushed away and some of the carpet pulled back, behind both sat a hollowed out stone where it should've been firm in the floor. But it was what was normally inside the hollow stone which was in your lap.

The wooden box painted a rich blue, the orange foxes all around the best you think of art you'd ever done before. The lid sat to your right where it was first seen the colour inside. Browns and golds a blend together inside as well. The outside and inside painted to remind what their blood was as ran through your veins, so they would never forget either.

Long had it been since you opened this. The night your mother lost Lyonel you had done as you always did. Name, blood, water, sending them to the heavens to find each other. Thus far the only one who had anything you made for them was Shireen, which was currently hung above her small infants bed to see every time she slept. But the others were in here.

You had two things left to do for the ones you were leaving behind and this was the first of that. You would keep them here. They were your brothers, but this would have been their home and they deserve to stay in their home. So you leaned against the wall carving their names into the respective toy you had once made for them, so they too would never forget who they were even if you were not here.

Putting it all back into place, you stood up and made your way to the desk. One last thing. The letters you had not finished were all packed away but two. One was loosely sealed on purpose, as it did not have to travel any kind of far to reach who it was to be for, but the second, still open, made you hesitate.

Picking it up, you felt yourself biting down on your tongue to force back the frustration and nerves rising in you. It had been months now. Not a word. Looking back you could not in any way come up with with what you had said or done that would be bad enough to warrant your best friend deciding he no longer wanted anything to do with you. Robb had written back and forth with you as if nothing was different, but not him.

It made you feel a fool. A child. A stupid girl who had put far too much of your own emotional development on an older boy who it seemed had just grown out of you. You had written him one last letter, the one in your hands trying to find the bravery to ask Maester Cressen to send it for you, but you thought, if he didn't want to speak to you anymore, then you pestering him would only make it worse.

You loved all the Starks, but he was your best friend. He was the one who finally managed to pry open the supremely heavy lock keeping you shy and quiet and showed you how to have fun and enjoy things, and you did it together. But, he would be fifteen soon, and you were still a child. This was the second time you wrote him a letter in the middle of not hearing from him, but the first time you had not yet realized he was ignoring you.

Now you did, and once again you found not the strength to pretend as if he needed a child around him as if begging for attention. Thus you told yourself what you did the last time, grow up. So you waked to the brazier in your room, and let the fire overtake it before sitting it in the middle to burn until the last you could see was his name.

Jon Snow

Before that too also burned.

But you had one letter you did want to give, and luckily for you, it was a mere few seconds of a walk out your door and down the hall to hers. She was asleep, which of course Shireen was. It was late. But you carefully walked to her dresser, one she would not be able to open until she could start walking and placed it gently inside.

Her name was perfectly visibly to read, and you felt excited to think one day she would find it and realize it was from you. Kneeling down to where she slept, you quietly moved down the wooden holds keeping her within the safety of their walls. A hand coming to run along her growing hair as she laid facing you. The side of her face covered in Greyscale hardly visible as it was pressed against the sheets, but you knew even if it was what you saw, she'd still be just as beautiful.

Murmuring quietly as your hand ran over her in a gentle caress not to disrupt her sleep. “I know you won't be able to read it for a few years, but when you do, I'll have sent you even more by then. I'll write you often, and maybe father will let me visit you even before you read them first.” Leaning more so your other arm also rested on the small bed, you whispered even more gentle.

“I won't be with you as much as we may have wanted, but I promise I won't ever let you think I've forgotten about you. You're my sister, Shireen. And I'm going to make sure you always know how much I love you. Even if we're thousands of miles apart.” Your thumb trailing just barley over the soft skin of her small cheek with a smile coming over your lips. “Besides, you'll have your brothers with you. They'll watch over you and keep you safe when I'm not here, alright? And don't let Septa Moelle push you around. We're Baratheons, remember? Ours is the fury, so that's exactly what you show her if she tries and bullies you, understood?”

Still she slept, and you wanted nothing more. You'd be able to sail back here to visit easily for short days at a time, and you were going to ensure this wasn't a goodbye forever.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, you murmured one last time. “Until we see each other again, sweet girl.”

Hands braced against the marble railing, your eyes squinted in the bright sun. You felt overwhelmed being here. Kings Landing was so much bigger then you thought, so many more people living in one place then you ever thought possible when your ship arrived. The Red Keep was just as large and elaborate as your dreary home but it was as it was named. The red stone it was built upon shining beautiful in the sun.

Water of the bay surrounded the grounds where the castle was, as it narrowed out until the lands stretched further and further the more people lived beyond in the city. Ser Davos and Allard had both said that so many people lived here beacuse it was where work could be found and you finally understood what they meant, but too why they'd choose the path they did.

Not just using smuggling as a means of money, but an excuse to leave the dense part of the city they were from you imagined. But from where you stood, it was nothing of the sort. Your new chambers were very bright, open windows and sun everywhere with elaborate designs of vines and flowers across the walls to fill the spaces empty.

Nearly as soon as you had arrived in the grounds of the castle outside, Lord Jon Arryn the Hand of the King, had come to fetch your father for a small council meeting and you set off with Allard and the other guard to be brought to your living apartments. There on your new bed did a small pile of brightly coloured dresses from yellows to oranges and golds to pastel pinks and blues. Not as fancy as the first but certainly far more beautiful then anything you brought with you of your own.

A note sat atop them in writing you recognized as Renly's. “Just something to get you started, dear niece.” You had put on the one of such light blue it appeared almost white in the bright sun you stood in looking to your new home.

Easy it was to set the rest of your things up, your desk sorted just the way you liked and needed to think as your books and writing tools otherwise all scattered around for a moments notice to fetch it. Walking out now into the main living area, it too was bright and open. But as your feet moved quiet, none of the guard noticed you had emerged from your unpacking. All distracted with something or another, you bit your lip as the thought occurred to you.

Your father had said to unpack, but never did he say you could not explore what was to be your new home. Stepping quietly almost in side paces, your eyes narrowed watching that no one was looking before slipping out of the main corridor to the stairs leading down to the main castle. From there, most left you alone.

The dress Renly had given you which you chose to wear blended in well. Of course it looked like many women here wore things to match the weather, arms and shoulders and backs all exposed but that felt far too revealing for you. The material of your new dress was thin and moved light in the breeze, but covered all of you below the neck aside from your hands, of course.

But still, you fit in enough that no one questioned your wandering.

One hall then another, the castle was so large and expansive to see. As if its ceilings were made for rain alone, as so many walls sat open to the air and the wind. Your home had what was known as Aegons Garden, but it was hardly more then a maze of tall hedges winding around what little flora could grow there as statues of creatures with sharp teeth and jagged wings poked around each corner. But here, each time you found somewhere new, there was another garden with hundreds of people tending to its every need.

Your head had turned in the direction which led to the throne room, but it also held the small council chambers behind it and you felt not yet ready to be caught by your father for wandering. So you walked instead further down stairwells and turn ways spinning you one direction to another as if now the undergrounds were the maze Aegon the Conqueror left behind. Though you supposed, it was Maegor the Cruel which was the reason this place was built as it was.

Inspired no doubt by the home once their claim of Dragonstone. It was a strange thing to consider the longer you walked the halls, the simple fact that you occupied both of their once homes as they were now all but gone from the world. You could walk the halls of Dragonstone and try to envision any of them in the same place but you found little appreciation in doing so.

It was something unattached, especially the deeper into the twisting halls you went did you find yourself feeling as if you were unwelcome. As if silver hair and eyes of purple were watching you wander in another place of what was once theirs and headed you to go no further. Less were there anyone but your mind and looking all around did you consider that the shiver down your spine was that of a warning.

Then you heard it, a small meow.

Looking down the hall, a small cat with black fur sat by the corner at the end of the corridor. One ear missing as its head tilted at you. Eyes narrowing at it, you walked a step slowly forward until the small wiggle in its behind told you it was ready to run. You did not chase the small cat, but when you followed it down one hall it waited for you at the end of another. The small creature asking you to chase it, leading you somewhere you did not know but you allowed it to play its game.

But it was not merely playing, it guided you. Hand coming to rest around what looked like the metal bars around a gate, you turned the corner thinking it was the small one eared cat you'd see. But it was not small, nor a cat. Nor one thing alone. The hall was like a hidden away dungeon, but for good reason. You heard stories of them, and not a clue what their fate was and yet it looked you right in the eyes with its bones as good as roaring right at you.

Dragon skulls. Many dragon skulls, large and immovable as they sat hidden away collecting dust in the undergrounds and you realized why the bars your hand was on were too a gate. This was a graveyard that no one belonged in. Here lay memories of the horror which led your family to where they ruled now, but in the haunting of death larger then you could imagine.

The Targaryeans were the last dragonriders of the world since the Doom of Valyria, but you stood there in a freezing shock at their size realizing that you truly did not know until now what that meant. Slowly putting one foot in front of the other you walked up to the skull facing you with trepidation as if it would twitch and a roar would fill the air. The ceilings down here were tall but the skull filled the space just fine in its size.

Shaking your hand was reaching up as it brushed over the bone, it was so tall you could stand inside its mouth and still have room for more. A fully grown man could stand inside its mouth and he would still have to reach a hand up to find the top of its mouth. But where some would see wonder, you felt something ill poisoning your veins. These creatures were the destruction beyond counting.

These dragons burned cities to the ground, and its rider commanded it. In tandem dragon and rider worked to such a brutal end, and you felt sick that they considered this place worth that. How many have died to dragons since they came here? How many years did the realm spend after the last dragons death in fear it was not yet over?

Its tooth was of magnificent size, almost your own very height as you ran your fingertips along it. But with that sensation, came the feeling once more. As if every skull had turned to watch you inside this graveyard, and every Targaryean having ridden them watched with disdain. You lived in both their homes after they were gone, defeated by your uncle and you felt as if they could tell you were glad for it.

Looking at the dragon your heart constricted, a bile rising in your throat as your face warmed almost as if tears were to form looking up at its size and realizing what you were to such a creature. You heard the whispers the Targaryeans would speak of your family, and it took every effort in you to not let your muscles shake now.

No escape would be found, even long after you would turn around and leave this place forever.

It was all around you, their lives bleeding into yours. Their buildings, their homes, their memories and their symbols. Once theirs, and now yours. Their stain sunk so deep you could taste the flesh of a dragon on your tongue. Your hand traced once more over the bones of its tooth and if fear was in your blood, anger was in your heart. Were such a creature to come alive, it would waste no time setting you ablaze and its riders would not weep. Everywhere the Targaryeans followed you, and whispered spitting hatred that you were a usurper and a traitor.

You lived in the shadow of their hatred for you.

Once on the surface of your new home, it was later when you found it. Alone and unguarded in the early darkness of the evening. Soon your father must be finished with the small council, and as you waited for him did the throne room reveal itself to you.

A thousand blades, taken from the dead enemies of Aegon the Conqueror, forged in the fiery breath of Balerion the Dread. Sat tall in the space of the Red Keep and over loomed the people. But it was not quite that of the stories. It was low to the ground. In your home of Dragonstone there in the main hall sat a throne carved into a large chunk of black stone and this was no bigger then that, but far more unseemly.

Your mouth silent as you formed the number with each passing twitch of your fingers from one cold blade to the next, keeping count as if to uncover the extent of the Targaryeans stories. There were not even two hundred. Aegon was not a great warrior uniting lands under a throne of the swords of his enemies, he was a liar. All of them were liars. The throne looked as if dragon fire would actually destroy it, melt it down and disappear from the world.

The scowl on your face grew and grew. That was all you had uncovered thus far. That the Targaryeans were nothing but liars. If they were such a great people unlike the lesser then which they ruled over, then you would not stand here in the darkness of their throne room running your hand over the blades of the Iron Throne without death coming your way for being there.

Renly had once told you that there was not a single shred of anything left within the Dragon Pit, and all you could think as you stood there was that without their dragons they had nothing. They were as down in the dirt as you were, but even then, the smallfolk had stormed the Dragon Pit because they too did not wish to be forced away by them any longer.

Every bit of it you hated, the ghosts of their destruction. It led to you standing here and now, but at what cost? Was your life now worth the millions stolen with fire and blood? Never, nothing was worth that. Not you, not any man, not even the Iron Throne. This was to be your home now, but every bit of it you felt the Targaryeans watching you with hatred that you stood where they felt only they deserved to stand.

By the time footsteps were heard, your hand left the throne even though you stood beside it as curious as you were unsettled. Faces you'd long learn to be used too, some recognizing you right away with polite greeting as your father watched in silence at your tense demeanour. By the time he beckoned you to follow him, you could only wonder if you were alone with this weight.

You certainly felt alone.

Not until months had passed in your new life here did that isolation finally leave, but not with someone here and now to keep you company.

But a letter placed for you on your desk in your chambers, by the time you had sat down to open it, you recognized the writing in an instant as a smile came about your face for the first time since you had gotten here.

The shadow of the Targaryeans might hate you, but at least now you were sure that your best friend didn't.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 4- Oh Caroline.

read all other chapters here

Warnings: brief depictions of mental illness. Light smut.

———

Matty crawled, shirtless, in the artificial grass towards peanut. He learned from doing this bit of the show every night that, there are some days when he finds it completely routine —just a performer doing the scripted bit that he worked hard to orchestrate for a very specific purpose—and there are other days, like today, when the entire experience feels uncanny. A real lived experience of his personal life being broadcast for the world to see. He is face to face(literally; their faces are inches apart) with his own naked likeness; comforting it, stroking its arm gently, treating it with care and tenderness.

He laid right behind peanut and wrapped his arms around his body double, spooning him in front of thousands of cheering fans. This was always the strangest part. He’s all too aware of the worlds eyes on his every move even as he attempts to drop the act and be vulnerable. The thing about manufactured vulnerability is, though, that it’s always inherently, at its essence, an act. some nights, he wondered, as he laid there next to himself, how much was manufactured and how much was vulnerable.

Tonight, his thoughts drifted back to that brief moment of respite that he experienced in Amelia’s arms. He kissed a line along the expanse of peanuts shoulders, tightening his arms around him. When the platform lowered again, taking peanut away with it, Matty rolled on his back. Tears rolled down his cheeks as the screens in the venue displayed a close-up zoomed in on him.

Moments later, the platform came back up, a guitar and a microphone ready for “Be My Mistake.”

***

Matty and Amelia never spoke of that night after it happened. They found it difficult to speak about anything at all. A fact that unnerved Matty endlessly. But he didn’t know how to be around her anymore. Every time he tried, he found himself clinging too tightly to a pretense of normalcy; trying so hard to act as though nothing had changed between them. He couldn’t bare the way it made him feel, even worse, he couldn’t bare the fact that it was his fault their friendship had now broken.

He leaned into the routines of tour life. Waking up, working out, writing, performing, and getting ready to do it all again in a different city the next day. That is, until he woke up on the morning of the first day of their week off.

His first mistake was not getting out of bed as soon as he’d woken up. What was intended as a relaxed start to the day turned into Matty not getting out of bed at all. After hours of endless scrolling, unanswered texts, and ignored notification, he set down his phone and noticed the lump in his throat. He turned to the other side of the bed, pulling the duvet protectively over himself and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt stuck. Like the whole world around him was moving at whirlwind speeds while he laid there, perfectly still. Even the thoughts inside his mind and the beating heart in his chest seemed to move faster than he could handle. He tucked his knees up into his chest and tried to breathe through the worst of it.

It was 6 pm before Matty had managed to get himself out of bed. And it wasn’t long before he returned to it. The first two nights of the week went by without him leaving his hotel room.

***

“Amelia! Joshua! Welcome back!” The couple turned around to find Mark, sipping on A cocktail at the hotel bar.

“Mark, you’re here.” Amelia hugged him.

“Did you kids have a good trip?”

Mark always made Amelia smile and put her at ease. She thought it was his warm paternal energy, a comfort to have around when you find yourself in a strange and unfamiliar place every other day while on tour. But, perhaps it was even more than that, Mark genuinely cared about each of the boys, their friends, and there partners. He was sincere when he asked to hear about their trip to Joshua’s hometown, and whether or not the weather over there was good. It was clear to everyone why Matty loved working with Mark.

“What about you? You guys must have cut your short trip if you’re already here drinking tonight.” Amelia observed.

“Oh we never went anywhere.” Mark sipped on his drink. “I mean, I think George and Charli are off on holiday. Reckon Adam’s out of town as well. Seen Ross out and about. Not entirely sure where Matty is but he’s in town.”

Amelia couldn’t shake that feeling in her gut. Mark’s words echoed through her mind as the elevator shot them up to the top floor. Not entirely sure where Matty is, but he’s in town. That doesn’t make any sense. Matty often used his days off in the US between New York or, if he was feeling messy, LA. For him to not pack up and go somewhere, when he has an entire week to do was he pleased, was very unusual.

She looked down the dimly lit hallway as she stepped off the elevator. Matty’s room was somewhere in the darkness. Something told her she needed to be there.

“Hun?,” she whispered, tapping Joshua’s shoulder. “Would you mind taking my suitcase and heading in without me? I- just wanna check on Matty.”

***

“Amelia” Matty barely mustered when he opened the door to her knocking.

She scanned him head to toe, noting that he was in a t shirt and boxers. “You don’t seem happy to see me.”

“Just….erm.” He scratched his head “thought you were room service or— house keeping or something.”

It was difficult for Amelia to keep a straight face while looking at the dark circles underneath his eyes, his unshaven face, his defeated look. But she knew Matty well enough to tiptoe around these observations. “Aren’t you gonna let me in?”

Matty hesitated, briefly, but it was Amelia. He could never turn her away. “Yeah. Right. Come in.”

She surveyed her surroundings, her heart shattered into a million pieces. The empty bottles everywhere, the clothes piled up in different corners, his guitar laying diagonally across the floor, various cables and wires everywhere, plates of uneaten food resting on the entertainment unit and the dresser. Everywhere she looked, there were signs telling her that she was already far too late.

“Oh, gosh. Matty…” words escaped her.

Matty averted his gaze, embarrassed.

Her hands reached out to him but Matty stepped back moving out of her reach.

“N-no, no. It’s fine. I’m…I’m fine. You should go-“

“Just wanna keep you company. Can I? Can I just sit with you for a little while?”

“Amelia, please-“

“You need help. Why won’t you let me help you?” She walked over to the couch, pushing the random books and papers that had covered it into a corner and sitting down.

Matty paced back and forth anxiously. “Because I don’t wanna get it wrong! I don’t want to do this- this- depression thing the wrong way-“

“Do you hear how insane you sound right now?

“No; you’re insane. You’re insane. I- listen to me. This thing within me- It’s not attractive or broody or anything. It’s- this!” He gestured passionately at his surroundings. “There’s nothing glamorous or artsy about how I feel. I cry a lot. And drink a lot. And I haven’t had a shower since the show a few days ago and- and I’m scared. All the fuckin time. I’m somewhere between terrified and completely numb.”

Matty felt the ground underneath him shift, losing balance, he quickly sat down next to her with a loud thud of his body hitting the couch.

“You get dizzy?” She asked, already knowing the answer. “Whens the last time you ate anything?”

“Depends….what day is it?”

“Oh for fucks sakes, Matthew!”

Matty leaned his head against her shoulder, cuddling into her. “I don’t want to eat. Please don’t make me do it.” He whispered as he closed his eyes.

Amelia remained perfectly still at first, allowing him to get comfortable. When she was certain that he wouldn’t spook or pull away, she slowly reached for his hair, stroking it gently as she spoke to him in her softest tone. “You been keeping up with the gym?”

Matty shook his head.

“Jiujitsu?”

“No.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Everything feels like sleeping. Like daydreaming or sleep-walking.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“What do you need right now? Can i- call down for some food? Do you…wanna go to sleep? I-“

“I need you.”He lifted his head off her shoulder and turned to look at her, pressing his forehead to hers, “please, Amelia? Just this once?” His nose brushed against hers, his lips a hairs breadth away from hers, begging for her to kiss him.

Amelia’s hands rested on either side of his face. “Will you let me take care of you?” She kissed him.

***

She pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. When she reached for the waistband of his underwear, Matty’s hands quickly stopped her.

“Uhh-umm I’m still- erm…having t-trouble there.”

“Oh. Ok-okay. That’s alright.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “Is there a…specific reason or— I mean is everything alright? Medically speaking….” Her words were clumsy, anxiety building in her stomach as she recalled how badly she’d fumbled this conversation the first time around.

Matty simply shrugged.

“You really need to learn to take care of yourself, Matty.”

Matty laid down, looking up at the ceiling. He whispered. “I don’t deserve to.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I’ve fucked everything up- I-“ he gasped as she brought her lips to the skin of his stomach, peppering him with kisses.

“I have an idea…” she mumbled, barely speaking in between kisses. “We should…come up with a system. Teach you how to let go.”

Matty’s brows furrowed. “System?”

She looked up at him through her lashes, pausing her loving for a moment to give me a slightly coy smile. “For your dopamine addicted weirdly wired brain….rewards for doing the right things, and….” She bit at his skin sharply, making him jolt and wince. “Punishments for doing the wrong things.”

“Might as well start there.” He spoke quickly. “I’ve done a lot of wrong things. Hurt you. Hurt the guys by risking their careers…well, if you believe Twitter, I’ve hurt entire demographics-“

She silenced him with a firm kiss. “I make the rules.” She whispered in his ear, smiling, “you hear that?”

Matty nodded slowly.

“We’ll come up with rules and expectations. They should mostly be around taking care of you. Making sure you get better.”

“Amelia, you don’t have to do all that. I-“

“Yeah, yeah. That conversation is for a bit later. For now, tell me, you ever been fucked in the ass?”

[demontime09]

Faded - chapter 3

.•°●°•.☆☆☆.•°●°•.

_____________________________________

I wake up, my mouth dry as fuck. I groan and sit up, my sheets are a mess, Chris's clothes on the ground. I sit for a second, rubbing my eyes, yawning, and it hits me.

Chris kissed me before he left. He held my hands, told me I did good, let me cuddle him, and then he..

He kissed me. And once again I am reminded that through everything, even with his problems and his troublesome actions, I know he cares about me. And that is enough for me to stay.

I get up, order breakfast, make coffee, and while eating I notice we never finished the joint. It's sitting in my ash stray completely put out. "That doesn't make sense. That was- that's his weed." I thought. I creep over and see, a note?? "Finish this off for me, ma. -C" I can't help but smile cheesily.

It's just like Chris to gift me leftover weed.

My phone chimes. It's my friend Eve.

"Theres a party tonight

at my place Char,

ur man might be there too"

"Thanks but I might skip"

Read 12:13

My shoulders slump. I always hate letting down my friends but partying with Chris means I'll have to take care of him and ill be anxious all night. Which isn't all bad, I do love making sure hes all right. I'd just rather pick him up and do it in my own home.

My phone chimes again.

"Cmon Char, we miss you."

I huff out a sigh, I miss them too.

"Okay you've

convinced me, what time?"

Chris's POV

I have 0 clue where I am. My eyes focus on the object in front of me. Furry.. gray, it squeaks. My face scrunches as I sit up, disgusted. UGH that's like the biggest rat I've ever seen in my life. I find my footing, the pounding pain in my head worsening. Where's Charlotte with a glass of water and medicine when I need her. Charlotte. Where is Charlotte? At home I assume. I feel my pants for my phone, it's not there. I panic for a second before I see it on the ground a few feet away.

It takes about 30 seconds for my eyes to focus on my phone and 30 more seconds for my thumbs to move across the screen. I'm definitely high.. when did I get high? I blink a bunch and as I'm about to call Char my phone chimes. It's my old friend Eve from highschool.

Eve

Chris come to my party tonight.

Char will be there.

Alr

Read 12:30

Oh god Charlotte, she's all I need right now.

She'll know what to do, I think as I stumble back to my car.

I call her as soon as I'm sat in the driver's seat.

"Hello?"

"You home?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm coming over, I need some help ma."

And with that I hang up and almost speed to her house.

Before i get there, I pick up a bottle of rum and scotch, my favorites. Along with a huge can of pepsi. Why not start the party a little early?

I'm smart enough not to drink while driving, but as soon as I get into Charlotte's house I'm mixing my drink and chugging it to dull the pain in my head. She tiptoes out to me, looking as gorgeous as ever, but I'd never say that out loud.

I kiss her lazily on the temple. "Hey ma" "what do you need help with?" She immediately asks. Straight to the point, classic Char. "I jus' don't feel great and I need to be okay for that party tonight" I cringe at how needy I sound but Charlotte's eyes brighten immediately. "What kind of help?" She asks gently.

The alcohol must take affect very fast because before I know it my lips make contact with hers as my hand grabs the back of her head. I tilt it back to get a better angle as my other arm snakes around her waist, and then on her ass, and the back of her thighs. We smash against the fridge and she yelps on impact.

I pull back, nod toward the bedroom, my chest heaving. She looks a mess but it's so so hot. I take her hand and lead her there, where I spend the next 30 minutes inside her. She takes me from behind like she always does, I'm not an intimacy guy. And once I'm done she doesn't try to ask for aftercare or cuddle. She lays there for a short time before cleaning herself up, redressing, and waiting for my next move.

"Um, yk ma, I wish I could stick around but I-" "I know." She cuts me off. Her face neutral. "Alright, I'll see you at that party later then.." she smiles, her eyes tired. I leave quickly and for the 1 thousandth time, cuss myself out for not being different for her.

Authors note :3

Don't start complaining abt how the sex scene had no detail, there will be more. 😈😈

[okaylikeschaewon]

Chapter 2: Patience

Due to the nature of your living situation, you didn’t always get to wake up next to Chaewon, but it was always a treat when you did. Naturally, you woke up first as Chaewon was known to be a bit slow in the mornings. You slid out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up.

After returning to the bed, you lay down next to Chaewon again. The cute girl rolls over and reaches for her phone, still barely awake. She checks the time and quickly jumps up.

“Oh my god! I am so late!” she screams while running to the bathroom. “Why didn’t you wake me?!” she shouts through the door.

You sit up in the bed and start to smile, wondering when she would figure it out. Chaewon finishes brushing her teeth before running out of the bathroom wearing just her underwear.

“Darling…” you try to get her attention.

“Seriously I cannot believe you, what is the point of sleeping over if you’re not going to wake me up,” she rambles on while rummaging through her closet.

You start laughing, “Chaewon!”

She turns to you while holding some random clothes, “what is so funny?”

“Remember the conversation you and Kazuha had in the car yesterday?”

She angrily returns to the closet, “I don’t have time for this, we have an evaluation this morning.”

You stand up and walk to the closet. “Sweetheart,” you say while hugging her back. “Your instructor is ill, you don’t have an evaluation this morning.”

Chaewon freezes for a moment before dropping the clothes she was holding and turning around. “I’m so sorry,” she says while hugging you. “I completely forgot.”

You rub her back, “it’s alright, I get it.”

She holds onto you for a bit as if it brought her great comfort. “This means we have some time to kill,” Chaewon says softly. “How about we get back into bed?”

“We could do that,” you reply as you slide your hands down her back and grab two handfuls of her ass.

She giggles before running over to the bed. You follow her and slip under the bedsheets next to her. She kisses you on the mouth again before sliding under the sheets. She planted kisses all the way down your chest, spaced about an inch apart. She kept kissing lower until she reached your navel.

You lifted the sheets slightly so that you could see the top of her head. You slipped one hand down and placed it on the back of her head, getting a handful of her oreo hair. She slid a little bit lower until her mouth found the outline of your cock through your underwear. She pressed her lips to your tip and used her tongue to cover your underwear in her saliva.

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door and you quickly pulled down the sheets.

Eunchae peeks her head through the door slightly, “Chaewon-ah? Oh, oppa, where’s Chaewon unnie?”

“Oh, umm, she’s in the bathroom, what’s up?” you answer while Chaewon hid under the sheets.

“Could you let her know Yunjin unnie made breakfast for us?”

“Yeah of course.”

“Thanks oppa,” Eunchae smiles at you. “And of course you are also invited.”

She closes the door and Chaewon slides out from under the bedsheets. She looks at you with a bit of regret in her eyes.

“Oh, they made breakfast and are waiting for us,” you say casually.

The two of you start laughing. “I promise we’ll eventually…”

“Really, don’t worry,” you cut her off before pulling her in for a kiss.

“Tonight, no matter what, we are spending some alone time together,” Chaewon says definitively.

–

“I thought we were supposed to sleep in,” Sakura says while poking at her food.

“We did sleep in,” Yunjin replies while taking a seat next to Sakura. “It’s already ten.”

“I wanted to sleep in more,” Sakura mumbles quietly.

Next to you, Eunchae laughs quietly. “Kkura unnie is almost as bad with mornings as Chaewon unnie.”

Chaewon looks up from her food, surprised by the comment. “Hey! I didn’t even say anything.”

“She has a point though,” Yunjin says from the far side of the table.

“Yeah she’s not wrong,” Sakura adds.

“Ah, everyone is so mean today,” Chaewon whines while returning to her food.

You felt something under the table and turned to Chaewon who was sitting next to you. She, however, didn’t even look up. If she wanted your attention she had it, but it seemed like she didn’t care. Perhaps it was a mistake, you think to yourself while returning to your food. Then you felt it again, much harder against your foot. You turned to face Chaewon again.

“Hm? Do you also wanna be mean?” she asks angrily.

“Oh, I just wanted to say, isn't this breakfast lovely?” you say before turning to your right towards the other end of the table. “Thank you Yunjin.”

“Ah, finally someone appreciates what I did,” she replies happily. “You’re welcome!”

Next to you Eunchae tried to speak up, but she had just taken a big bite and was clearly struggling to speak.

“Slow down Manchae,” Sakura laughs at the younger girl. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

Yunjin also bursts out laughing as Eunchae tries to swallow the bite. Her cheeks were so cutely plumped up while she chewed. Eventually, she gets through the food.

“I just wanted to say I also appreciate it,” Eunchae gasps.

A couple of laughs go around the table when you feel something slide up your leg. Although, this time you realized the culprit when you looked directly across the table at Kazuha who was looking down at her empty plate while smirking slightly. Her eyes peeked upwards slightly and she saw you staring at her which made her start smiling.

She was avoiding your gaze, but now she was becoming more audacious beneath the table. You felt her foot slide up your leg and onto your thigh. She pressed down playfully against the top of your thigh before bringing her other foot up onto your other thigh. She made a couple of circles with her heel before tapping her feet up and down on the top of your thighs. Then she slowly slides her feet down the insides of your thighs and spreads your legs slightly.

You could see that she was trying her best not to laugh as the rest of the table was quietly eating, completely oblivious to what was going on beneath the table. You felt her foot move forward, her toes lightly pressing down on your crotch. You could feel her sliding her foot back and forth, rubbing your private bits over your pants.

Next to you, Chaewon had finished eating and stood up from the table; She noticed Kazuha’s plate was also empty. “Zuha, can you help me with dishes?”

Kazuha quickly nods, “yeah.”

Before she could stand up, you quickly reached below the table and grabbed her ankles. She looked at you with wide-eyes while you held onto her, not letting her stand up.

“Coming?” Chaewon asks while walking towards the kitchen.

“Yeah just a second!”

Sakura, who had also just finished eating, stood up and was starting to get suspicious of what was going on. She looked down at Kazuha’s empty plate and then at you with raised eyebrows. She must have figured it out after Kazuha started to giggle, because she started walking towards the kitchen with a smile on her face while shaking her head.

After teasing Kazuha a bit more while she squirmed her feet in your lap, you finally let go of her ankles and let her go free. She stands up, still giggling, before walking over to the kitchen with her empty plate. The other two girls at the table paid no attention as Eunchae was still happily eating while Yunjin was checking something on her phone.

You finish up the rest of your food before also getting up and dropping your plate off in the kitchen. Kazuha was rinsing off the dishes and loading the dishwasher with Sakura when she saw you walk up. Kazuha started to smirk again, turning to face away from you. Sakura washed her hands, very aware of what was going on, and then gave Kazuha’s butt a playful slap before leaving the kitchen and going to her room.

You place your plate in the sink while very intentionally leaning as close to Kazuha as you could, placing one hand on her back while the other reaches into the sink. The Japanese girl giggles before trapping your arm between her arm and her body. She held your arm tight against her body, and you could feel every muscle of her superb core.

“You’re stuck,” she says matter-of-factly as she continues to rinse the dishes.

You slide your other hand around her back so that it is pressed against her core from the other side, putting Kazuha in a bit of a hug. “No, you’re trapped.”

She playfully wiggles her body, pretending to try and break free, all while smiling brightly back over her shoulder towards you.

“Let me go,” she whines adorably before spinning in your grip with incredible strength so that she’s facing towards you with your arms still wrapped around her sides.

The two of you were now face to face. Kazuha was staring deeply into your eyes, and for a brief moment that playfully naughty girl disappeared. She was beautiful with very minimal makeup on. Then, all of a sudden, she brought her wet hands up and flicked a few water drops onto your face: The exuberant girl was back. You let go of her and wiped your face while she giggled, and you found yourself also smiling.

You left the kitchen and headed upstairs to Chaewon’s room while Kazuha returned to the dishes. As you entered her room, you found her sitting at her desk, once again in her underwear. She was touching up her makeup, applying a bit of eyeliner.

“Kazuha’s flirting with me again.”

Chaewon looks up at you and laughs before quickly returning her attention to the mirror. “Yeah, remind me to set up that date later.”

You walk up behind Chaewon and bury your face into her neck. “When will you be back?” you ask while she continues to finish up her makeup.

“It’s hard to say, I think it might be a bit late tonight,” she answers, a bit of regret in her voice. “You can come in again, but I have a feeling I won’t get much break time today. Our comeback is too soon.”

“Why do you have to practice so much, you’re already so perfect.”

She smiles at you through the mirror. “I’m not perfect, but I am sorry that I’ve been so busy.”

You turn your face and give her a kiss on the cheek before standing up straight. “It’s alright, I’ll just get some work done and then we can hangout tonight like you promised,” you respond while taking a seat on her bed.

She turns around on her chair so that she’s facing you, her expression showing sadness. “Will you at least stay here? We have food and snacks downstairs, you can help yourself to anything.”

You smiled understandingly and nodded. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

–

The day went by relatively uneventfully. You basically switched between working and watching random YouTube videos throughout the day. You got a couple of texts from Chaewon throughout the day whenever she had a quick break, it seemed like she would be later than expected tonight.

Despite procrastinating quite a bit, you actually ended up getting a lot of work done. It was nice to get ahead, knowing that in a couple of days Le Sserafim would be releasing Antifragile and you would want your schedule to be free during those initial promos.

It was starting to get late and you were honestly getting a bit tired, so you decided to lay down on Chaewon’s bed. It felt comfier than normal, and you felt your eyelids getting heavier. Maybe it would be best to take a quick nap, you thought. You slowly dozed off to sleep.

After a short nap, you woke up and checked the time. It was already 1 AM and the girls weren’t back yet. This wasn’t particularly uncommon, it wouldn’t be the first time they were out this late practicing. You decided to just relax for a bit and listen to a bit of music.

Eventually, you heard a bit of commotion downstairs. You started to hear the sound of their voices as they just got home. There were a couple of footsteps coming up the stairs when Chaewon opens her door and walks in.

She looked absolutely exhausted, and your heart sank a little bit seeing her this tired. She walked forward towards the bed and then crashed down onto your body.

“I’m tired,” she whispered with the side of her face resting on your chest.

You hugged her and rubbed her back. “It’s so late, you must be exhausted.”

“We practiced and practiced and practiced, and then since our instructor wasn’t feeling well we had to send her videos of our practice. Then while she reviewed them, we worked out, just to come back and practice more with her feedback.”

You leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “Awwh, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard today.”

“It was the last hard day,” she sighs. “We scored extremely well, so the next few days are going to be much lighter. They want us fresh and ready for the comeback.” She lifts herself up so that she can see your face. “I promised we would spend some time together tonight,” she says.

You pulled her up closer and kissed her softly. Very gently moving your mouth against hers before leaning back. “I think it’s best if you get some rest.”

“I can… I can still-”

You kiss her again, stopping her mid sentence. Your hands gently explore her back while you kiss.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to do anything tonight,” you say softly.

She lets out a heavy sigh and falls back onto your body. “I really love you,” she whispers warmly into your chest.

Before you could say it back, she had fallen asleep. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit disappointed, but you cared so much more about her wellbeing over anything else. You let the feel of her breathing bring you into a cathartic trance for a bit before deciding to get some water.

You carefully roll over the precious girl so that she’s laying on her back and tuck her in. You get out of the bed and give her a little kiss on the forehead before leaving the room and heading downstairs. When you get there, you find Eunchae sitting on the couches by herself, watching some drama on the TV. You head into the kitchen and pour a glass of water.

“Feeling better?” you ask.

Eunchae turns around, “yeah, a lot better, it really did just take one day.” She sees you holding the glass of water and starts to smile mischievously. “You better hurry up, Chaewon unnie seems to get very upset when you take too long getting her a drink.”

You chuckle at her silliness when the two Japanese members appear. Kazuha walks right up to you and takes the glass out of your hand before sitting down at one of the kitchen stools and downing it. Sakura walks over to where Eunchae was sitting.

“Alright, show me where,” Sakura instructs as she opens a little jar of ointment.

Eunchae lifts her pant leg up to show some mild bruising while Sakura begins applying the ointment. It wasn’t uncommon for idols to have small injuries after practice, especially for certain choreo.

“You guys must have worked so hard today,” you remark as you watch Sakura.

She looks over at you while massaging Eunchae’s leg. “It’s part of the business,” she says with a tired but soft smile.

You sit on the stool next to Kazuha. “You feeling alright? I heard you had a long day” you ask the girl.

“Feeling great,” she says quietly as she leans her head onto your shoulder.

Her response was a bit of a shock, usually she had all the playful energy in the world when it came to you. She was still the same Kazuha, but you could tell she was way too tired to tease you tonight. You rub her thigh gently, letting her rest on you.

“I’m so excited for you girls,” you comment, but Kazuha doesn’t respond. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

You feel her head nod against your shoulder. It was strange, you’ve never seen Kazuha acting this way with you. You think back to what Chaewon said about Kazuha never having a romantic relationship before. There was this weird bond of affection between the two of you right now, and you could feel the amount of comfort she felt around you.

Seeing Kazuha in this vulnerable state made your insides fill with warmth. You never really addressed it before, but you genuinely cherished the relationship you had built with Kazuha. You cared for her in an unexplainable way. It brought you great satisfaction knowing she was as comfortable around you as she was.

Sakura stands up from the couch and walks over to you. “Here, in case Chaewon needs it,” she says while handing you the little jar. “Come on Zuha, bed time.” Sakura pulls Kazuha off of you with both hands and the girl starts walking towards her bedroom. “Eunchae, make sure Yunjin also takes care of herself,” Sakura adds while Eunchae stands up and stretches.

You start refilling the glass of water when Eunchae walks towards the stairs. She sees you filling the glass and giggles. “Yah Eunchae stop being silly,” you laugh as the girl runs up the stairs. You down the glass before refilling it once more for Chaewon and heading upstairs.

“What was that all about?” Sakura asks, confused by the interaction.

“Eunchae won’t stop teasing Chaewon and me about… stuff.”

“Ahh,” Sakura interjects. ”Stuff...”

There is a bit of an awkward silence between the two of you as Sakura looks around the room with her lips pursed.

You decide to break the silence. “You do a really great job of taking care of them all.”

There is a short pause before she replies.

“I feel like…” she begins while staring at the glass in your hand. “Since I’m the oldest, and I’ve been in the industry for so long, I feel like it’s my responsibility to look out for them.”

“You’ve always looked out for others, it’s one of the things I used to love so much about you.”

You notice her cheeks gain a tint of rosiness as she looks away, another awkward silence falls upon the two of you.

“You… also do a good job,” Sakura says quietly.

“Oh.”

It felt like the wrong thing to say, but you had no idea how to respond.

Sakura looks up at you, a bit of regret in her expression. “Sorry, I meant like with Chaewon. I can see how happy you make her. Also the others, you may not realize it, but the way they treat you is the way they only treat the other members. You’re basically an extension of our group at this point.”

She was speaking quickly, something Sakura did when she got stressed. Memories started to flood back in, and without thinking you took a step towards her. She looked up at you with her eyes wide in shock. She froze. The two of you stood there staring at each other.

Sakura closed her eyes slowly, and she began to slightly move her lips forward. Right before your lips touched, her eyes shot open and fear filled her pupils. She quickly turned around, and you heard her sniffle quietly.

“Sakura… I’m so sorry,” you begin as you reach for her hand.

She pulls away at your touch. “Don’t apologize, nothing happened,” she says, her voice wavering. “I’ll… goodnight,” she says while briskly heading towards her room, wiping her eyes as she walks.

You stood there by yourself in the silence of the house, a rush of emotions bombarding your brain. You bring your fist to your forehead and tap it lightly, regretting everything that just happened, before walking up the stairs.

After returning to Chaewon’s room you quietly place the glass and the ointment on her side table. You pick up your bag and start heading to the door.

“Don’t go,” Chaewon whispers from the bed.

Your heart skips a beat when you turn around to see Chaewon is awake. You put your bag down and walk back over to the bed, sitting next to her and stroking her short hair. She looked adorably tiny as she was tucked into the sheets. You felt a painful tinge of betrayal inside you as you looked down at her, but you didn’t want her to know.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble,” you reply hesitantly.

“Please can you stay with me,” she requests with utmost tenderness.

You felt awful, the way she was asking you so desperately after what just happened downstairs behind her back. You wanted to confess, but you didn’t have it in you to hurt her tonight. Not when she was this vulnerable.

You lean down and kiss her before sliding into the bedsheets. “Of course I can.”

She turns to face you with a confused expression. “Do you not want to stay or something?”

It hurt you so much to hide things from her, but you noticed the slightest quiver in her lip and you just couldn’t find the strength to confess. At least, not for now.

“I always want to stay with you,” you answer. It was the truth, you still loved her more than anything.

Content with your answer, Chaewon slides over closer to you. “Tomorrow is a shorter day by the way, and then we get the next day off.”

“Perfect,” you mutter as you close your eyes and try to let your body relax. You felt Chaewon put an arm around your torso, cuddling as close as possible. As she fell asleep with her arms around you, there was this worry in the back of your mind that she could feel your heart pumping like you had just run a marathon.

–

You were blessed enough to wake up next to Chaewon again this morning, and you found that she was still holding onto you. You started to carefully remove her arms so that you could get up, but you felt her squeeze tighter.

“There’s still time,” she says quietly, her eyes still closed.

You fall back into the soft pillows. “I didn’t realize you were awake, did you sleep alright?”

She slowly opens her eyes, “best I’ve slept in a while.”

“So how much time do we have?” you ask as you slide a hand down her body and give her butt a playful squeeze.

She giggles before sitting up in the bed. “Not enough time for that, unfortunately,” she answers before leaning over and giving you a short kiss on the cheek. “Tonight, though, I am free.”

“Text me when you’re done, I’ll come pick you up.”

You relaxed in her bed for a bit longer while watching her get ready. After the girls left, you stopped by the store on your way home to pick up a few ingredients. You had planned to make Chaewon a home-cooked meal tonight since you knew the girls ended up eating out a lot these days; The menu would include a spicy kimchi jjigae and some meat that you’d be grilling. You returned home and spent the day working until you got a text from Chaewon.

CW: hey, just wrapping up now

YOU: yeah I’ll be there soon

You grab your keys and put on a jacket before heading to your car.

–

“Whoa whoa whoa!” you shout as Chaewon jumps into your arms. “Someone’s excited.”

“We got so much praise today,” she says while smiling brightly, her legs wrapped around your waist. “And now they gave us time to relax before d-day.”

You gently put her down. “Good job! I’m so proud,” you say, pulling her into a hug. Over her shoulder you saw the rest of the group walking by. You noticed Sakura was watching the two of you, but as soon as you looked over she turned away as if she didn’t want you to notice. Before you could process what happened, you felt another pair of arms wrap around you.

“We did it!” Kazuha shouts, joining in on the hug.

Another body joins in. “Let’s go girls!” Yunjin exclaims.

It seems you were part of the girls now as the three of them were giggling and jumping up and down while hugging you.

“We’re going out as a group tomorrow, you wanna come?” Yunjin asks you as the girls separate.

“Ah, I don’t know, maybe it should be a thing with just the members?” you answer hesitantly.

“Oh stop being a baby,” Eunchae adds from the side. “Just come.”

The four of them were pestering you, trying to convince you to tag along when Sakura speaks up from the side.

“I think it would be nice if you came,” she says softly.

The two of you made eye contact and for a moment it was as if the world paused, but only for the two of you.

“Alright fine I’ll come.”

The other four erupt in cheers, and Kazuha hugs you hard from behind making you buckle forward. It was a movie-esque scene of happiness, but for some reason you had a peculiar feeling in the back of your mind.

“What are we even doing by the way?” you ask as the girls start walking towards the van, trying to ignore the intrusion.

“We don’t know yet,” Yunjin replies. “We’ll figure it out later.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Eunchae asks. “I’ve been craving mint chocolate ice cream.”

“Ewwwww,” Kazuha whines. “That’s the worst flavor.”

“What?!” Chaewon counters while standing next to Eunchae like her bodyguard. “I’m team mint chocolate all the way.”

“Girls girls, stop fighting,” Sakura interjects as she joins the group like a mother. “We can all go get ice cream tomorrow. As long as it’s not mint chocolate,” she adds.

All hell breaks loose as the girls start arguing, and you find yourself just watching the commotion with Yunjin.

“What side are you on?” you ask her.

She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m a fan but not enough to fight over it. It must be a top-floor type of thing.”

You chuckle at her comment as a van pulls up.

“Uh, girls, I think this is for you.”

They ignore you completely and continue debating about various ice cream flavors.

“GIRLS!” Yunjin shouts, making all of them turn to face her in shock. “Our ride is here,” she adds casually with a warm smile.

Everyone looked a bit confused for a moment, but then they started making their way towards the van.

“Are you going with him?” Sakura asks Chaewon.

“Yeah, I’ll meet everyone back at the dorm tomorrow.”

“Oooo, spending the night,” Eunchae teases. “Oppa, make sure you get her whatever drink she wants.”

Both Sakura and Chaewon playfully scold the younger girl as she enters the van. Sakura gives Chaewon a quick hug before turning to you. It looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she just nodded respectfully before also entering the van behind the others. All of the other members leave while Chaewon stays behind with you. After they turn the corner, she latches onto your arm and looks up at you cutely.

“We might not know the plan for tomorrow, but I know what I want to do tonight,” she says seductively.

“And what would that be?” you ask while pulling her into a hug and slowly sliding your hand down the back of her pants.

“Yah, not here in public,” she responds in a hushed tone while pushing your arm and giggling.

“Why not? We have plenty of privacy.”

The two of you watch as a car drives by before looking at each other and laughing.

“You just have to wait a little longer, I promise,” she says lovingly to you.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

She starts to smirk up at you. “Oh yeah? You want to strip me down, bend me over, and fuck me right here in front of my company building?”

“Yeah, and I don’t give a shit who watches,” you growl while pushing her against your car door.

Chaewon was starting to get extremely flustered, her breathing was becoming erratic. “Keep talking like that and I might just let you,” she moans.

“Let me?” you spoke the words directly into her ear while putting your hands against the car on either side of her small frame. “I’m going to have you begging for it,” you whisper into her ear before leaning in and nibbling lightly on her earlobe.

She sharply inhales at the feel of your lips and her body slumps down slightly as if she was losing the ability to hold herself up.

“I won’t… beg…” she pants as your mouth had slid down her neck.

You kiss her soft skin, making her tilt her head upwards to the sky above. You kiss her a few more times, but you take it slower now and make sure your lips press against every piece of her skin. You stand up straight and press your body as close to hers as possible with your face right beside hers.

Your hands leave the car and find refuge on Chaewon’s ass. You give her a very hard and thorough grope, and she fills your ears with her heavy breaths. As you groped her soft ass, you pushed your chest even harder against her body, pinning her to the car. You could feel her soft tits pushing back, forming to the shape of your body.

If you were to release her now, you were certain she would fall to the ground. She had no more strength, she was like playdough in your hands now. You lean back slightly so that you are face to face again, and you see her half-lidded eyes in a trance.

Her mouth was slightly agape, and you took the opportunity to press your lips against hers again. This time the kiss was far more wet than last time, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was having her body in your control.

“Fine,” she moans after you free her lips. “Just fuck me already.”

You step back and open the car door for her. She had a look of visible disappointment and frustration with you; She actually wanted you to take her right here in the middle of the street. It was, obviously, far too risky though. You leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek before the two of you sat down in your car. You noticed she had a conflicted look on her face.

You smile at her. “Sweetie, I’m not going to be responsible for you losing your career.”

She sighs understandingly. “I know, you just… got me excited.”

You reach your hand over into her lap. “Show me how excited you are.” you demand as you slide your fingers into her sweatpants and press them against her underwear, feeling a moist spot through the fabric.

Chaewon grabs your wrist. “Wait til we’re home, I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at her pleading face for a moment before uttering a single word.

“No.”

Your hand slips down her underwear and immediately finds her tight folds. You rub the skin back and forth, making her juices pour out like a faucet, before pressing down around her pussy. Her grip on your wrist went limp as a singular, drawn out breath escaped her lips.

As you were starting to coat your fingers with her warm nectar, she clenched down on your arm by squeezing her legs tightly. She was glaring at you in the most lustfully rage-filled way possible.

“I’m going to fucking kill you if you don’t start driving,” she breathes while her lower body squirms.

The corners of your lips raise involuntarily and you start to withdraw your hand. Chaewon, however, wouldn’t allow it, and she kept her legs tightly closed with both of her hands grabbing your wrist now. You couldn’t contain your smile as you reached over with the far hand to shift into drive.

--

A/N:

Unforgiven is amazing and I can't stop listening to it. SOTY material for me so far. Also, very inspiring when it comes to writing this story! I'm not going to really explain anything, I want the words to do the talking for me. Hit a few notes that I wasn't expecting to hit in this chapter, but overall happy with how it turned out.

As always, let me know what you think if you would like to share your thoughts. You can reach me basically anywhere.