#Ill Never make the full four minutes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ncteez · 1 year

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Oh no, he’s hot (k.m.g)

The first time you drove your very trashed best friend home was because you had a crush on him. All the times you drove him home after that were because…well, his dad is sexy.

or the one where you have tension with your crush’s dad at four in the morning and maybe secretly fuck while said crush is asleep on the couch.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

WORDCOUNT― 8.9k

PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader

CONTENT― there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, bottom(ish) mingyu, top(ish) reader, desperate smutty stuff, mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her early 20s (in other words, age gaps be damned, you’re both adults.)

OTHER CHARACTERS― chan is his son and ur just gonna have to deal with that for the sake of having no unnamed characters

WARNINGS― Mingyu has an internal war over wanting you because his son also wants you. Another thing, this is entirely consenting, but mingyu does mention to stop and/or wait at one point while clearly acting against his own words.

NOTE― So uh, this fic is kind of a push and pull between morality and fucking because you’re horny. There’s some backhanded stuff about Chan but ill make it up to him in a future fic, i swear. Anyway, behold, the unedited dilf mingyu fic.

smut tags under cut::

― part two here!

smut tags―his brain is between his legs in this fic, BIG DICK MINGYU, grinding(ish), masturbation, handjob, neck kissing/sucking, groping, pet names: babe & sweetheart, face riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex (just assume they’re protected somehow at this point), he’s technically the one doing the fucking but he’s very in tune with her pleasure, missionary, g-spot stimulation and deep penetration

The first time you met Kim Mingyu was an unfortunate event. One where his son was seeing three of you and four of his dad as you struggled to get him up the steps of the porch. It’s not that Chan purposely stayed out past curfew, and it’s definitely not that he forgot his gate code or his dorm keys, it’s just that he really needed a friend to get him to his dad’s house. It wasn’t out of the way, Chan promised you that, even as you drove a full ten minutes across the city line to get him to safety. At first, you didn’t mind and preferred to spend more time with him anyway, but then it was even more worth the drive. Especially after meeting his father and realizing that he’s, to put it bluntly, just as hot as Chan. If not, more.

The second, third, and fourth time you met Kim Mingyu was much the same on the outside. Internally though, each time you met him threw you further and further into a specific thought process. One that felt taboo. You’ve never felt anything towards the parent of a friend, better yet the parent of a crush. Until now, at least, especially with the way Mingyu looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice.

It’s not that you think Chan’s dad would consider you an option, the smallest possibility of that is definitely not the reason why you volunteer to take his rowdy ass home either. Before it was because you wanted to spend more time with the guy you possibly were trying to date. Now? You won’t admit the reasoning. If anything, it’s because the older man has a kind face and thanks you each time for bringing Chan home to him rather than leaving him on the lawn of some frat house.

The fact that all of this started because you had a crush on Chan was insane enough. Now look at you, going to frat parties with him, no longer to get closer per se, but so you can take him to his childhood home despite him not forgetting his dorm keys anymore.

It’s the latest you’ve ever brought him this time, nearing four in the morning as you drag his clumsy self up his front porch as he hums the tune to your favorite song at you.

“I told you,” Chan slurs through his humming, stopping you from knocking on the door and leaning his weight on you even more. “I have my keys this time. Why are we at my dad’s house again?”

You shake your head at him, adjusting your body better to accommodate his dead weight on your right side.

“Curfew. Do you want to be written up for a noise complaint again?” You look at him, watching him tilt his head and remove himself from your side to stand in front of you in an immaculate show of how uncoordinated he can be.

“You take such good care of me,” He slurs again, smiling at you from under his messy fringe and struggling to adjust his eyes to meet yours properly. “Y’know, Soonyoung said you have a crush on me–”

You cut him off, stepping forward and knocking against the door as loudly as you can to avoid the fact that you might’ve had a crush on him before, and perhaps you still do. It’s just– his dad, y’know?

“Why’re you ignoring me?” He smiles again, leaning lazily against the door frame as you knock.

Honestly, on any other day, you’d probably be blushing. You’d be floored by Chan being so forward toward you, especially in his cute drunken state with his sparkling eyes and stupid messy hair. It’s no wonder you have–had– a crush on him. With a face like that, a voice like that, a body like that, a dad like that.

“I’d rather talk about this when you’re sober, Chan.” You deadpan, knocking again and wondering if it’s taking his dad a while to get out of bed because it’s too early in the morning to be handling a drunk son.

Chan looks at you for several seconds with his crooked and lazy smile, nodding to you and blinking out of sync. You do think he’s charming, even like this. It’s a shame, really, that you can hear the door unlocking because you probably would have grabbed his face and kissed him at that moment. Mingyu be damned. Even more of a shame that your variable crush on him fizzles out the second you see his father time and time again.

Mingyu stands there behind that thin layer of glass with his sweat pants sitting low on his hips, shirt nowhere to be seen, with a face of both disappointment in Chan and sleepy fondness towards you. On instinct, you remember the first time you saw him and every time after that. No matter the change of lighting, time of night, or the way he has his hair– he never looks to be old enough to be Chan’s father. To put it bluntly, Mingyu doesn’t appear to be any older than his mid-twenties. Still, any sane person would be chasing after his son, much like you were but, here you are, wanting nothing more than to chase after the forty-something-year-old father of a cute drunken idiot.

Chan watches you stare at his dad but isn’t quite sure if it means anything because his drunken brain is telling him that you’re just tired or something. Still, he leans from the frame and immediately clings to you, his state offering little to hide the feelings he’s grown towards you. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt his nose nuzzle against your neck, with his alcohol-scented breath blowing against the skin there. You struggle to not lean into him.

Mingyu opens the door upon seeing Chan acting like a fool in love, much like he would have done at his age in the same state of bliss with a pretty girl by his side.

“Chan is very drunk again,” You laugh apologetically, looking away from the Mingyu and feeling Chan’s hands grip your waist as he hugs you. You try not to think too hard about his hands gripping you too, mostly because he’s never actually been this forward or clingy towards you. Truly, if he had done this before meeting Mingyu, and without being absolutely trashed, you’d probably already have asked to be his girlfriend or gone down on him, at the very least.

“Should I lead him to the couch?”

Mingyu nods, looking at you with a gentle smile, well aware of the fact that you bring Chan here for reasons other than giving his son a place to lay his head. He knows Chan keeps his keys on him now, and he’s known since the second time you dropped him off. Especially considering he scolds him every morning after a drunken party, and each time, Chan proves that his keys were with him. He also knows his son well enough to see when he takes a liking to a girl, the issue is that you make it very very obvious that you’re more interested in him rather than Chan. Which is flattering, incredibly cute, equally as dangerous, and such a fucking shame for his son.

Here’s the thing. Mingyu is a good person with a stable head on his shoulders. He’s a good father, a hard worker, and a gentle soul, but he gets horny just like any other man. Unfortunately, when a woman who he finds attractive, even if he swears he isn’t interested, starts throwing signals his way– it’s hard to ignore them and even harder to control himself when he hasn’t so much as gone on a date with another woman in at least a year. Much like his son, maybe he’s taken the tiniest liking to you too. To make himself feel better though, he swears it’s because he’s proud of his son for finding such a pretty girl that puts up with him.

After all, he would never sleep with a woman that his son is fond of. Even when you look at him the way you do, even when you bend over in front of him for a second too long, making it obvious that you like it when his eyes land on your ass. Mingyu’s got wisdom in terms of bedroom eyes, and he would be terribly mistaken if the way you look at him wasn’t exactly that. It started eating him up inside from the second time you stepped foot in his house, and shamefully– he’s maybe thought about you in ways that he shouldn’t. Not only does Chan seem to be around you a lot, but you’re the same age as his son.

Of course, he feels bad. He feels like a pervert and a creep when he finds himself warming up at the way you look at him. Then he thinks hard enough about it to wonder where things could lead if he were to be selfish for once. It’s hard to find you attractive, especially when you appear to make excuses to stare at him. When he’s in his head about it, usually for several hours after you’ve dropped Chan off, he thinks about how you’re both adults and you are not obligated to cater to Chan, nor are you obligated to cater to him. You are a whole person with your own interests, and if your interest happens to be him– and if he happens to take an interest in you too, wouldn’t that just be two consenting adults? The dilemma of Chan liking you is what fucks with his head.

Tonight, it’s even worse and it’s becoming more and more difficult to brush you off or avert his eyes. Again, he would not ever sleep with a woman that his son is interested in but, he happens to be a bit touch-starved and you happen to be flaunting yourself at him. So, he’s allowed to at least, like, think about it, right?

“Ah,” Mingyu scratches the back of his neck with one hand and takes a step to the side to let you in. His shirtless body warms up when your eyes continuously scan him. You appear more interested each time you come by, and he can’t help but think that this is already reaching dangerous territory. There’s a clear reason why you keep coming to his house, using his son as an excuse to play innocent.

“That should be comfortable enough,” he comments in a sleep-shrouded rasp, watching you plop his son down on the couch. He closes the front door and grabs a lap blanket from the back of the couch to throw over him to help get him situated. “More comfortable than the bed in his dorm, I'm sure.”

“Ah, his shoes.” You comment to yourself, pulling at Chan’s laces and slipping his shoes off of him before lifting back up and preparing to head to the door. The visit to look at Mingyu is always only five to ten minutes, but you enjoy the ogling session nonetheless.

“Hey,” Chan slurs out, reaching out and pulling at your arm. “It’s pretty late, just crash here with me…”

You stumble a bit, losing your balance and landing against him, but you’re quick to pull yourself back up with a laugh. God, why does he have to be the one with a hot dad? Why couldn’t he have done all of this before? Why do you have to be single and ready to mingle with a man twice your age because of Chan?

As you stand back to your feet, you look at him as his heavy eyes start to close despite the shenanigans he just pulled. He’s already falling asleep and surely he won’t remember this by morning, so you gently back away with a soft shake of your head before heading for the door and placing his shoes on the rack there.

“He’s right.” Mingyu manages to say, stepping in front of the door and crossing his arms. He’s a bit unsure of why he’s offering this but ultimately plays it off. It’s not because he’s trying to play cupid and hook you up with his son either. Selfishly, it’s because he wouldn’t mind you staring at him for a bit longer.

“It’s already too late, and I’m aware that your campus is a bit of a drive…” He trails off, trying to not act exactly like Chan towards you.

You pause, noting that you were about to immediately agree despite rejecting his son’s offer. Looking at Mingyu, with his broad shoulders and sharp jaw, you shake your head much like before, hoping that he offers again so you can pretend to not seem so excited.

“Maybe I shouldn’t, I still need to shower and I don’t have anything to change into–” You try to make excuses, but he shakes his head, putting his hands out in a defensive kind of way.

“No, no. I insist. It’s not safe, I’m sure I’ve got something lying around that you can put on for the night, there are extra toothbrushes too.”

Well, you’re not gonna fucking argue that.

“Okay,” You offer a soft nod and a smile, stepping away from the door and looking to the floor. You feel elated right now. “Where’s the bathroom then?”

Mingyu, for some reason, is trembling as he suddenly feels entirely naked in front of you even with his thick sweatpants covering the bits. He smiles back at you, reaching out as if you should grab his hand.

In reality, it was just to be polite but you did grab his hand. He panics a little because your hands are so fucking soft and warm, and god it’s been way too long since he’s looked at a woman this way. Such a fucking shame that Chan likes you, he knows he can’t be thinking like this.

Mingyu reluctantly leads you down the hallway to the bathroom, softly and quietly pointing out the towels and extra tooth brushes before stepping out and immediately walking away. You didn’t get to inquire about said pajamas he was going to offer to you, and in all honesty, he definitely forgot the second he realized that he was thinking too hard right now.

He stands against the closed door of his room until he hears the water in the bathroom start and the shower curtain closing. That’s when he realizes he forgot to get you those fucking pajamas and curses under his breath before rushing out of the room and towards the laundry room. He’s sure he has some of Chan’s clothes here that he’s always leaving behind.

Thankfully, he finds a pair of boxers and a ratty old t-shirt stretched out far past its original sizing. He’s sure this will do fine as he hastily grabs them and heads toward the bathroom again.

He stands outside of the door frozen, unsure of if he should knock or just leave them at the door. His brain is running a mile a minute at how to navigate thinking intimate things about you behind that shower curtain. Naked. The fact that you’ll be putting on his son’s clothes, probably without panties because you appeared to have made a point that you needed to change out of tonight’s clothes– oh god. There it is. There’s the shameful arousal he’s been fighting since the second time you brought Chan home.

The water turns off after several minutes of him standing there, and he can hear the shower curtain move as you step out and presumably dry off.

The softest of knocks known to man can be heard on your side of the door and that’s when you, yourself, get pulled out of your thoughts of Mingyu stepping inside this bathroom and wrapping your legs around him. As you look around, you should probably ask about those pajamas, and surely that’s Mingyu on the other side of this door knocking like the most polite man in the universe.

It’s dangerous, really. For Mingyu to be feeling this desperate for the touch of an attractive woman, whoever it may be, and you on the other side of this door desperate to touch him. You wonder if he will reject your advances, or if he will at least pick up a hint or two. You wonder if you’re about to put his clothes on you and if you’ll be able to smell him on you when you intentionally go home in them tomorrow after you wake up.

You creak the door open, holding the towel loosely against you as you make eye contact with him. You’re confident enough to seduce a man, but seducing Mingyu is new ground for you. Will your usual antics work on an older man? Guess you’ll find out, because right now is a better time than any.

He’s still shirtless, his sweatpants seem to be sitting lower on his hips now too. You can’t help it when you trail your eyes down, shamelessly taking in his image before meeting his eye again with a sly smile.

That little smile kind of solidifies it for him. The look on your face is easily recognizable to him, considering he’s seen it time and time again back before he had an entire child with someone. So, he pushes the door open a bit more, smelling the soapy scent of what you used to wash with before immediately taking a step back as you take the clothes from him. It’s not that he wouldn’t step inside and make advances on you, but he’s really trying to control his urges right now. Simply because his son likes you.

“They’re Chan’s,” he comments shortly, his own eyes trailing down without intention and watching a water droplet fall from the dip of your shoulder to seep into the towel loosely hiding your chest. “That's all I could find.”

You watch him stand there, despite having taken a step back from the doorway, he appears to be planted in place without hiding the way his eyes take you in more than they ever have. You’re purposely holding this towel against you in a revealing way for him. So, you’re feeling pretty good that it seems to be working, and he’s even picking up on your energy toward him.

“Oh,” you finally say, looking down at the clothes in your hands. “I thought you were going to give me something of yours to wear.”

Mingyu swallows hard. He was almost going to ask if you’d prefer to wear his clothes, but he controls himself yet again.

“Ah, I didn’t want Chan to think anything.”

You perk up at that comment, playing off of it.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a playful tone to your voice. “You’d just be helping me sleep comfortably like a good host.” You smile as you keep eye contact with him now.

“Ah, well,” He laughs awkwardly with you, now imagining you in his clothes. The arousal only grows at the image of you in one of his old ratty shirts rather than his son’s. This is not okay though, he cannot be thinking these things while you’re less than a foot away from him with just that loose towel covering you.

You notice his lack of words after that, so you trail your eyes down again to see if you’re truly the only one here considering things to do that Chan would find suspicious. He’s so broad, honestly, he’s big enough that he could trap you against the bathroom counter behind you and have his way with ease.

“Are you,” You pause for a moment, narrowing your eyes before glancing up at his eyes again, “turned on?”

Mingyu freezes only for a moment before putting his hands in front of himself and turning away from you while whispering a small apology.

“Sorry, it’s not intentional,” he goes to say, feeling his cheeks warm up at the fact that you so bluntly asked him such a thing. “I’m gonna–” he doesn’t even finish his sentence before he points to his room with his thumb, rushes down the hallway, and closes the door behind him.

You’re left standing there in silence with Chan’s clothing in your hands. You slowly back yourself into the bathroom and get dressed with a mischievous smile on your face, opting to leave your clothes in his laundry just to try and be sneaky in order to have a reason to stop by on your own next time.

By the time you exit the bathroom after brushing your teeth, you’re left wondering if you should squeeze up against Chan and actually just crash here, or if you should go cause more tension with his dad, who is very clearly still awake in his bedroom because you can hear his television in there. Unsure of if you’ve crossed a line or not, your confidence is at an all time high after seeing him apologize for getting hard while looking at you. Clearly, you’re not tired, definitely not after that. He appears to be taking an interest and yes, you’re gonna see just how interested he is.

Taking a deep breath, you pad down the hallway and knock gently at his bedroom door. You think up any excuse to give him when he creaks the door open, but thankfully you didn’t have to try too hard.

“Where should I sleep?” You ask in mock-shyness, rubbing your thighs together and noting that he appears to be slightly out of breath.

Mingyu, mid-jerk off session, was not expecting you to actually keep approaching him. He is entirely too weak now, as if he wasn’t already. He still has precum against his palm when he opens his door, and you’re standing there staring up at him with damp skin and his son’s loose ass shirt hanging over your legs– jesus.

“Um,” Mingyu clears his throat, looking down the hallway and listening for any sound that could indicate his son was awake, “Where ever you want?” He calms himself with the silence, wanting nothing more than to sink back into his bedsheets and release himself of these filthy thoughts of you.

“In here then.” You boldly state, pressing a palm against his door and staring directly at the wet spot against his hastily pulled-up sweatpants.

“Wait, hold on,” Mingyu whispers as he stops you from opening his door any further. “What are you trying to do?”

He didn’t expect you to actually answer that question.

“I thought I made that obvious?” You admit, now feeling your confidence break a bit because you really thought he was also sending signals.

“You did, but I can’t just let this happen.” Mingyu follows up with his own admittance, noting the way your face falls, and instantly he feels fucking bad about it. A face so pretty shouldn’t be looking so defeated by a mere rejection out of pure moral stance, he really shouldn’t say anything more.

He watches as you slowly nod, accepting his rejection and preparing to turn around and probably get in your car to go home. Against his better judgment and allowing his weakness to take hold, he speaks up again.

“Wait, wait, it’s not that I wouldn’t,” You perk right back up as he talks. “I just– I can’t do that to him.”

“Do what to him?” You tilt your head at him, lifting your palm back to his door to try and press it open again, shockingly, he lets you this time. “He and I aren’t dating, he’s never even tried anything with me when he’s sober.”

Mingyu thinks hard about this now, stepping back from his door and knowing for a fact that the moment you step into his room it’s over for him. He didn’t expect you to be like this, but god it’s doing something for him. Are you this forward towards his son, or would you be this forward toward him if he actually made a sober move on you? No, no. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, with the way you’re clearly trying to come onto him.

“That isn’t the point, I’m not that kind of person.” Mingyu tries to argue, eyes boring holes through you with lust that doesn’t match his argument at all.

You don’t want to push him if he’s genuinely not wanting to do this with you, but god, you’ve imagined this far more than you’d like to admit.

“Would you though? If the circumstances were different?”

Mingyu appears to be totally lost at this point, standing there as he watches you step through his doorway, looking so….touchable in his son’s clothes.

“Fuck, yeah.” He sighs out this time, blatantly staring you down before realizing what he just said, and he struggles to take back the words.

You watch as his sweatpants move along with the twitch of his length beneath, and you do little to sway his break of control. If anything, you make it harder by stepping closer to him.

“If I asked you to touch me right now, would you?” You ask him, closing the distance and practically feeling his warmth pull you in.

If he wasn’t in the middle of pleasuring himself when you knocked, he would be able to turn you away, but he was so fucking close. And now you’re actually in this room with him, much like he was imagining.

“I shouldn’t,” He whispers in defeat, all while his hand reaches out to yours and trails it straight to his clothed cock. “This is not something I should want to do–”

You feel him twitch under your palm, warm from his arousal. You wonder if he was in here thinking about you before you knocked.

“Were you jerking off to me?” You ask bluntly, squeezing him and watching the way he releases a sigh before his eyes fall back onto yours, darker than before.

“Close the door.” He says, ignoring your question and stepping past his own boundary line.

Even when you pull away from him with a wicked smirk, his hips chase your palm until it’s out of reach and you’re silently closing his door. You approach him quickly this time, reaching between his legs without a hint of fear as you squeeze around him to make him release a sigh similar to the one before.

“Were you?” You ask again, jerking your hand up a bit and feeling the thickness of him, rubbing your legs together once again. This is really happening this time, and it was almost too easy.

Mingyu nods shamefully, reaching to grab your wrist and halt its movements.

“Wait,” He warns, throwing his head back for a moment with a frustrated groan. He’s arguing with himself in his head, sending mixed signals of what he wants and then immediately pulling back. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

You pause, looking at him and the way he rolls his head forward to look at you again. You say nothing and your hand remains halted against his length as he makes a mental list of the pros and cons of this situation. It’s entirely silent, and you smile when he bucks his hips up against your palm, seemingly making a decision.

“Shit,” he groans with a breathy chuckle, rubbing himself against you. You can see his bicep flex as he holds your hand there, and you honestly expected him to be more in control of his body. Somehow, it’s far more sexy to see him fight himself over you.

“Let me,” you comment gently, trying to move your hand and feeling the way he relaxes under it with another low rumble of a moan. “I want to.”

He’s already crossed his moral line, and the guilt that could come from this is replaced with arousal. The thoughts he had of you from before all could come true at this moment, and possibly only happen just this once.

Mingyu’s eyes are drawn to your hand against him and he bucks his hips towards the warmth on instinct. It feels so good to be touched by someone other than himself. He’s going to let himself have you, just this once. Hopefully, Chan won’t find out, and hopefully, this won’t happen again.

Your hand moves so gently over his length that despite barely feeling it through the thick sweatpants, it somehow sends shivers down his spine. He can’t keep his hips from moving, and he can’t stop breathing out little sounds because it genuinely feels like he’s fucking melting at your touch. Sure, it would probably be this way if anyone were to touch him like this after so long of being alone, but the fact that it’s you… for some reason has his head spinning. Out of anyone on this planet that he should be doing this with, it’s you.

You switch between watching his face to watching his hips. A man so broad and intimidating in stature is acting much like an inexperienced man being touched for the first time, and it’s throwing you for a loop. Just a little bit. After imagining him pinning you down, tearing you apart, and talking down to you so many times– it’s a bit of a shock seeing him do everything but that.

The look in his eyes is reluctant but his hips move with purpose against your hand. It’s cute. Watching him somehow seem so composed but unraveling all at once over your hand alone is something you’ve never experienced, so you were more than happy to snake your hand under the waistband of his sweats and watch him shiver at the sensation.

When you feel the warmth between his legs and the slippery beads of precum dripping out of him, it was easy to grasp him and imagine the weight of his cock inside of you. That alone blew your pupils out as you stare up at him, learning the ways in which he prefers to get touched.

His hips don’t stop moving towards you, and even at this angle of simply standing in front of him, you can feel the desperate force behind his movements. It’s so insanely hot to be doing this with Mingyu at all that you think you’d accept just about anything from him at this point.

It only took less than a minute of jerking him off beneath those sweats when he dips his head down. You can feel his breath against you, fanning against your chin until it’s replaced with his hand, skewing your head away so that he can attach his lips directly to your neck.

God, it’s something he’s doing. Holding you there, breathing heavily as his tongue swipes your pulse point with little muffled sighs as your hand grips and squeezes him. You can feel his hips continue to speed up, fucking into the circle your fingers make around him. For a solid moment there, you thought you were dreaming, but his raspy voice pulls you from that idea, planting you back in reality.

“I’ve thought about this a few times,” he whispers, kissing his way to the other side of your neck. “Have you?”

You nod, feeling more pre-cum drip from him. Your hand glides up and down his length perfectly as he moves his hips in sync, laying sloppy and breathy kisses just below your ear.

“I’ve thought about this since the first day I saw you,” you admit, leaning your head back a bit to try and get him to look at you, “I didn’t imagine you being this big though, Mr.Kim.”

Mingyu does pull back at the name, his lips slack and puffy as he looks at you with disapproval.

“Mm, don’t call me that, sweetheart. Mingyu is fine,” he pauses as you nod to him, and winces a bit at the way your fingers tease the head of his cock so beautifully. He has to breathe through his nose to keep himself from shoving you to the floor and spreading you open on him. “I’m not turned on because of a power dynamic–” He admits with a sigh.

“Oh?” You question, pressing yourself up against him and gaining a new angle for your wrist to begin flicking around his length. “Why are you doing it then?”

You are curious as to why he’s found an interest in you, though you refuse to question it. If it’s like it is in porn, where it’s strictly the age gap or the idea of having the power of another, so be it. It appears though, that Mingyu has other reasons.

“Because I want to know how you sound when you’re drenching my cock and saying my name.”

Oh, there’s the Mingyu you imagined so many times before. Saying filthy things already, making your legs feel like jelly at the sheer image of him letting you drench him. You felt those words hit you right in the core. Your entire body tenses out of pleasure. You’re fucking tingling, and instantly pressing him forward to see if he really meant what he said.

Mingyu isn’t used to talking dirty these days though, but he can see the way you react to those words. Being led to his own bed by you says enough about how that made you feel.

When he falls back on the bed, you see the way his darkened pupils overtake the fond smile on his lips, and when you pull your hand from his pants and try to crawl on top of him, it confuses you when he stops you.

You look down at him, tilting your head in question before he speaks.

“Take his clothes off first, I want to see you,” he mumbles, his own hands rubbing down his abs and his fingers tucking under his own sweats.

You nod, backing yourself up and sliding Chan’s boxers down your legs. You watch the way Mingyu watches you, seemingly treating this like a show as he slips his hand under his sweats and resumes to himself what you had been doing for him before. The hidden movement under those sweats ignites a fire inside of you, the reality of Mingyu pleasuring himself to you taking off his son’s clothes hits you so fucking hard. You feel desired by a man that shouldn’t desire you, and it makes you feel so fucking sexy.

He’s watching you hard and even lets a small and choked-out moan fall from his lips when you begin to lift the shirt off of you.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he compliments, blatantly squeezing his palm around the base of his length and imagining that it’s you sinking down on him. “Come here.”

As he reaches his free hand out to invite you on top of it, the words he said make you buckle into a world of shyness. You almost want to hide your face from his fond and darkened eyes, especially as he continues to palm against himself even as if you sit on his thighs.

You watch the movements under his sweats until your eyes are torn from the act, his warm hand pressing you up further and then guiding your face down to his. There, you expect to share a kiss with him, but he just ghosts his lips over yours, eyes falling into a half-lidded look. Your own eyes flutter closed, parting your lips for him– but instead of feeling him kiss you, you only feel his words come out in sighed mumbles.

“How do you feel about feeling my tongue on you?” he whispers, flexing his arm at your side as he fucks into his own fist harder now that he has you on top of him.

You open your eyes to look at him, noting his dazed smile, pupils blown under those half-closed lids. You’ve never ridden a man’s face before, despite having been eaten out several times. You’re a little nervous, but he nods an encouragement out to you as he attempts to guide you further up.

“Don’t be shy, babe. I want to taste you,” he pauses to look at your face, trying to show that you can say no, even with your pussy already nearing where he wants it to be. “Yeah?”

You give him a shy nod, scooting up until you’re sitting on his chest and leaning back a bit. You’re trying to remain confident enough to do it yourself, but he continues to guide you, all the way until you’re propping yourself up with your knees on either side of his head. You can feel his eyelashes flutter against your thighs when you hover, and he starts kissing the flesh there, giving you no reason to feel embarrassed at all. It feels almost ticklish, and it makes your legs shake at the sensation.

As he continues to kiss against your thighs, you can feel his free hand move to grope your ass, spreading you open just a bit and rocking you just inches from his mouth. The pressure of waiting to feel his tongue on you is one thing, but feeling his big hand guide you to sit a little closer had you obeying instantly.

Still trying to remain confident, you look down between your legs and can only see the mess of hair fanned against his mattress, you kind of love the image. Knowing that it’s his face down there, and that’s his tongue working its way on your thigh and closer to your core. You jolt slightly when you feel the warm muscle tease at your folds, flicking gently before his hand begins to rock you against it, encouraging you to grind.

You’re very reluctant at first, even upon feeling his tongue travel to your clit when he guides your hips back. It’s only when he leans his head up a bit to close any amount of space between his mouth and your pussy, that you release a shaky moan. His tongue circled your clit before sucking hard against it, and it really did make it difficult not to sit harder against him.

Within seconds of that little sound, you hear the snap of his sweats against his abdomen and you feel both of his hands grasping at your ass. You’re seeing stars instantly when he presses you down all the way and instantly begins to part your pussy with his tongue, grinding you harshly against his mouth until he’s the one sending vibrations of moans through you.

He lifts you up momentarily after a moment just to look at your pussy over him, and rolls his eyes back in an even filthier-sounding moan.

“Do you even know how wet you are?” He asks, staring directly at the way your pussy pulsates above him. “Had no idea you wanted me this bad.”

Mingyu doesn’t even let you answer, flattening his tongue before licking a long stripe up your slit and forcing you to sit against him again with those strong hands. He moans again through your sigh of a response, unable to speak as he guides your body on him. His tongue is working wonders on you, causing your head to spin at the way he flicks his tongue against your hole before swirling it all the way up to your clit over and over again. No part of your core feels neglected, and the sensations he’s giving you is something you want to cling to.

For him, he wants nothing more than for you to use this to your advantage. He wants nothing more than for you to grind against his tongue and force the taste of you on him until he never forgets the feeling of your pussy on his lips. But this. This is enough, especially compared to how bold you were being before. Feeling your legs shake around his head only drives him to keep going. He wants to hear you, taste you, feel you. He wants you to know what it’s like to have a real man pleasure you.

He opts this time to grind your pussy forward until his nose is nuzzled against your clit and his tongue is teasing your entrance and he leaves you that way. Frantically moving his hand back to his cock and letting out a filthy groan against you as he finally gains his own friction again. You barely notice, feeling jolts of pleasure shoot through your body as you grind without intention this time, chasing the feeling in the same way he was guiding you.

When you do that, you feel him nod with a growl before slipping his tongue into you and tasting the way your walls clench even that. He sounds filthy and the fact that he seems to really enjoy that you’re doing this? It only drives you to actually ride his face, sliding back and forth, fucking yourself against his tongue until you slide all the way back just to see his face.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, your pussy clenching at the image of him.

He doesn’t respond and instead looks at you with a face driven by arousal, his tongue dipping back into his mouth to taste, then sticking it out again for you to continue your pleasure on. When you don’t, he shakes his head and clears his throat a bit, attempting to answer you.

“Fuck, no. You could go harder sweetheart, come on.” He urges you, moving his hand faster against himself when you shyly blink at him, hovering your core above him just enough for him to lift his head and do it himself at your reluctance.

He frantically licks against you in a way that he’s never done before. Tongue slipping in and out of every crease and crevice to taste the entirety of you before fucking his tongue in once again when your weak grinds allow it. You watch his head move between your legs and you do your best to commit this image to your memory. You really get to sit on this man’s face, and he’s really just— fucking going insane for it like this?

Moaning out once again, you can feel your legs shake each time his nose bumps your clit, and you clench around his tongue each time he tries to essentially fuck you that way. It’s a lot, and god you’ve never been with a man who eats pussy like this. The way he moans through it, the way you can feel his arm jerking himself off, the way he occasionally tries to look up at you.

“Mingyu, I–” you try to say, letting your legs buckle and sitting flush against his tongue again, resuming the weak grinds you had offered before. “You should stop, before I–”

He taps your leg, causing you to lift a bit before he speaks out in an even raspier voice.

“Do it. On my tongue.” He pleads without letting you answer, shoving you by your ass directly back onto his mouth and somehow, licking you with even more pressure.

You can feel him nod when you jerk your hips on him, his free hand guiding you back and forth in a harsher way. His tongue fucks into you a few more times before he’s holding you in place, attaching his lips to your clit, and sucking so hard against it that you feel that wave of pleasure hit you like a bag of bricks.

He made it happen so fast, legs squeezing around his head as you jolt and stutter against his tongue that flattens out and bumps your clit. You hold yourself there, swirling your hips and drenching his mouth entirely. You clench around nothing, orgasming solely from clit stimulation and it makes your ears pop and ring as you work through it.

And by the time you’re done, you panic. Is he okay? You’re sure you squeezed his head with your legs too tightly, you sat too hard, and you rutted against his tongue until he couldn’t breathe.

Quickly, you slide off of his face, feeling embarrassed and quite frankly, apologetic that you did that but instead of finding a nearly choked out man, you see him lying there with a glistening face and a filthy fucking smile.

“You ride so well, sweetheart,” he compliments, quickly pulling his hand from his cock to prevent his own orgasm, “ you sounded so pretty like that.”

He thinks hard about this, knowing that this is probably what his son wishes he can do for you, but at this point, he’s not even sorry. The way you choke out quiet sobs of pleasure, the way your legs were shaking around him, the way you fucking tasted against his tongue. No, he gets to be selfish. Fuck all else, he’s going to let you ruin him.

“Lie back, babe.” He says gently, waiting for you to adjust yourself comfortably against the bed before pulling his sweats off of him and shivering at the cold air that hits his pre-cum soaked length. He looks at you as you lay there, grabbing a pillow and adjusting it under your head with a soft smile before touching your face.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, leaning to hover over you and running his hand down your waist.

Your eyes trail straight to the cock you hadn’t been able to actually see yet, seeing the way it glistens and twitches with the need to be touched. You want nothing more than for this man to plunge himself so deeply inside of you, that you can only say his name when you get fucked by anyone else.

His eyes watch yours as you stare between his legs and he easily slots himself between yours, fawning over the way your body heaves as you continue to catch your breath from that last orgasm.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, yet again gripping himself and pumping against his own length as he waits for you to answer.

You nod, rolling your hips and bumping your warm, saliva-soaked, pussy against the knuckles of his hand as he pumps himself. He loves how your neediness matches his own, and he coos at the way you say nothing but communicates solely through grinding against nothing for him to fill you up.

The chuckle he lets out at you is another thing you had thought about time and time again. Being laughed at, degraded. Mingyu is everything and nothing like what you imagined him to be, but he’s also making you feel better than you imagined too. You blink up at him, trying to muster the words for him, wanting to see the fire in his eyes ignite further than it already has.

“I like it rough, deep.”

Yeah, that did something for him, you can tell with the way he drops his head and immediately positions his length against you.

“How deep, sweetheart?” He asks, teasing your hole with the head of his cock and pressing in only slightly.

You roll your hips forward, enveloping his tip and smiling at him. You think he loses himself right then and there, pressing into you with one long and languid thrust, committing the feeling of your inner walls hugging his cock tightly to memory, pulsating around him until he bottoms out with a released sigh.

“So fucking deep,” he says more to himself then to you, holding himself above you and bracing one hand at the side of your head and the other on your waist. “Deeper.” He coos, angling himself slightly and pressing into you more somehow.

You can’t fucking breathe, feeling him, seeing him, smelling him. You’re actually fucking the Kim Mingyu right now. All of your wet dreams compiled into one fucking instance and it’s happening to you right now in the early morning hours while your recent crush is dozed off in the living room.

You clench, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep yourself from moaning as loud as you’d like to right now.

He waits for you to adjust, twitching inside of you and working up a sweat as he attempts to control himself until you’re ready for the second half of your request. You wanna be fucked deep, and you wanna be fucked rough? Lucky him, because he’s about three seconds from ruining the both of you out of sheer desperation to feel your pretty hole squeeze him through orgasm.

“And rough?” He whispers, leaning down and whispering against your ear. You can feel his grip on your waist tighten when he pulls his hips back, relieving the pressure inside of you before pressing in again.

The moan he lets out against your neck is honestly the best thing you think you’ve ever heard, your nipples perk up at the sound of him fucking you, and you do everything you can to encourage him to do just that.

You nod with a broken moan, desperate enough to have him pulling back to look at you as he slides out again, and then plunges into you once, hard. The way your body shifts up as his hips meet your thighs is enough to have him doing it again, and again. A string of hard, deep, and pointed thrusts sending little yelps out of your throat each time his hips spread your legs a bit more for him.

The hand on your waist moves up to your left nipple and he pinches it slightly before falling forward again, bracing himself on both arms at either side of your head. His rhythm sends him over the edge and makes him fuck into you even harder as he breathes out and rests his forehead against yours.

“Sweetheart?” he lets out between deep breaths, the sound of slapping echoing to the point that you hope it doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy in the other room, “hold onto me.”

You don’t know why that does it for you, but it fucking does. You didn’t even realize you needed something to hold on to until you released you were gripping the covers with tightened knuckles. Releasing the blankets, you throw your arms around his shoulders.

“Legs too,” he chuckles, licking against your bottom lip in a teasing kind of way.

Your legs shoot around him too, squeezing his body and pushing him to thrust into you in a way that keeps his cock almost completely buried into you, thrusting tightly. Only an inch or two leaving you before the head of his cock bumps the deepest part of your inner walls.

Feeling that, knowing that Mingyu’s cock is reaching where no cock has gone before, you tilt your chin up and connect your lips with him. The first heated kiss sends shockwaves through your body and causes you to clench so tightly around him, that he fucking growls into it rather than moaning.

His pointed thrusts grow tighter, faster, and your arms continue to hug and squeeze against him as your tongue swirls around his. Teeth clinking, his sweat dripping a bit to the point of even tasting a bit of that salt fall past his lips and against yours.

Both of you are fucking gone, deep breaths and deep thrusts, his cock is pressing against that spot inside of you and all you can do is fucking– you let go.

Your mouth falls slack against his own, and he continues to lick into your mouth until he realizes. Your pussy jolts around him and he pulls his head back, watching you fall into a state of bliss before he’s instantly shoving his hand between the tight space of your bodies and harshly rubbing your clit.

“Oh, baby,” he coos out in his own moan, the image of actually seeing you come sending him over the edge himself. “That’s it,” he moans again, chasing his own high and feeling dangerously close already, “So pretty, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

And there he goes too. You’re still riding out the last of your high when you feel him still his hips and press himself impossibly closer to you. He can feel your walls hug him, squeezing his come out of him in such a filthy way that he can’t help but whisper and babble out nonsense to you. Words of, you feel so good, i wanted this so badly, fuck yes–, fuck, fuck, just going to let me come in you like this?, fuck, oh, god.

It was a lot of nonsense, but to you and your dazed-out thoughts, it sounded like a mantra.

Even as the two of you laid there, fucked out and out of breath, neither of you felt any guilt. Why should you? Because you have (had) a crush on Chan? You’re not dating him, you’re an adult, and you can fuck whoever you want. Mingyu’s thought process is similar, though he’s sure the guilt will hit him later if anything were to happen.

The guilt did hit him later. He’d say around the time you stopped by three days after you spent the night to pick up your clothes.

Did he fuck you again? Yes. Right up against the washer in his tiny laundry room. Just as deep, but not as rough.

Is he only growing more weak towards you? Absolutely. Especially when you continue to find reasons to see him without Chan around.

Unsure of what the future holds between the two of you, Mingyu tries not to think of you as anything more than someone he casually has sex with. If you and Chan start dating, that’ll be fucking awkward, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to believe that will ever happen. Not when he’s already had you moaning his name, not when you wrap your arms around him the way you do.

― part two here!

#kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader

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imtryingbuck · 7 months

Text

Dancing In The Rain

~gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader and Bucky dance in the rain

Word count: 927

Warnings: nothing

Masterlist

“He truly loves her, doesn’t he?” Nat speaks as she holds the cup full of hot chocolate closer to her chest.

“His thoughts are so loud whenever she’s around” Wanda leans her head on the other red heads shoulder.

Steve stands next to them watching his best friend finally find happiness “what do you mean?”

“Well when she’s not here I can’t hear anything coming from him but when she is here, it’s pure love, all the bad memories disappear because of her, he worships the ground she walks on” the smile on her face slips into a grin “and the sexy thoughts… let’s just say that’s he’s more than satisfied and creative in that department” chuckling as Steve starts blushing.

“Didn’t need to know the last part Wand.”

“Is it bad that I’m jealous of an 106 year old great grand dad with a metal arm and a staring problem?” A voice sounds from behind the trio.

“Nope not bad at all Sammy, all three of us are jealous” Winking at Nat and Steve when they give her a look.

All four of them now stand side by side, Steve speaks up again “What about her thoughts?” Curious to how the woman who’s captured his best friend’s heart really feels.

“Her thoughts are loud too. She really loves him, she’s not afraid of him in the slightest - you guys remember a few months ago when he had that really bad nightmare?-” Of course they remember that night, they all got woken up to him screaming, by the time anyone had the chance to calm him down he was up and out of the bed destroying everything in the room. He thought he was back at Hydra not realising he was at the tower and he was now safe, all of them tried to calm him down but nothing worked. Steve and Sam wore the bruises for a week as proof. It wasn’t until Nat ran back to her room to grab her phone to ring Y/n, who arrived as fast as she could, out of breath due to her taking the stairs because ‘the elevator was taking too long’. Still in her pjs, her hair was dishevelled and pure panic was written all over her face. All it took was her saying his name to stop him from throwing another punch into Sam’s already bloody face. All it took was her to gently touch his face for him to snap back into reality.

Continuing when they all nod “- she wasn’t scared of him but for him. She was scared of the situation, scared of us hating him for what had happened. But never scared of Bucky. And the other day when Peter ran into him making him spill his drink? He had to take his shirt off right, the names she calls Hydra when she saw the scar on his shoulder would make a sailor blush” chuckling at the memory of that day “She’s even thought of how she was going to make Hydra pay for what they did to her Bucky, she’d put you to shame Natty. She loves him so don’t worry Steve; she’s not going to hurt him.”

Steve smiles softly “Thankyou”

~~~

~ 20 minutes earlier ~

“No” pulling his hand away “Baby I said no, we’re not going outside. It’s raining baby and I don’t want you getting ill”

“Please Buck I want to dance in the rain!”

“You’ll get ill”

“You’ll nurse me back to health” smirking with her eyebrow raised.

“There’s no music” he copies her expression.

“Don’t need music”

“It’s raining”

“It’s romantic”

Sighing, he knows she knows he close to giving up but he’s determined to get his own way this time “No Y/n now sit that pretty arse down and watch Ricky and Morty”

“Rick and Morty”

“That’s what I said”

“No you said Ricky when it’s Rick. Anyways come and dance in the rain with me”

“Don’t even think about it” is all he says when he notices the change in her body language.

“You asked for this Bucko, you only have yourself to blame” inhaling a deep breath and exhaling slowly - she winks at him “please please please please please please please please please plea-“

“God damn it you crazy woman, let’s go then”

“Love you”

“Yeah yeah love you too”

~~~

The rain falls lightly as they make their way outside, even though he’s annoyed with himself for giving in he can’t help the smile that creeps it’s way on to his face, especially not when his girl has a huge smile on her pretty face.

Gently clasping her hands in his, he pulls her into him “have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Everyday, but tell me again” smiling up at him she makes no attempt to get rid of the raindrop that landed on her eyelashes.

“I. Love. You. More. Then. Anything” each of his words are ended with a kiss to her lips.

“I love you too James. Can we slow dance?”

“Of course, my love”

As the rain continues to fall the pair slow dance already getting drenched Bucky hums a tune, one that she doesn’t recognise. A surprised squeal escapes Y/n lips when Bucky spins her around.

“We’ve got an audience” she confesses.

“Who?”

“Wanda, Nat, Sam and Steve”

They both burst out laughing when Bucky looks up and the four Avengers standing in front of the window drops down to the floor.

“They are aware we can still see them, right?”

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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runningfrom2am · 1 month

Text

cold nights // part twenty-seven

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: omg we're coming up on the end i could cry :') i finished writing everything and i feel like a shell of a person rn without this fic to plan and write, but i hope you guys are excited! there will be five more parts after this and then the epilogue, which brings me to some really exciting news!!

big news #1: i'm opening oneshot requests for this series!! my normal requests will remain closed but i'd love to see what you guys want for the more of this series! (link is here!)

big news #2: the end of this story is opening the doors to my third coryo series which I've been working on for a hot minute, and it'll be called requiem! (see the original request for it here to get the vibes before i post anything!)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The protests caught you off guard, more than anything.

It had only been two weeks since you started your classes and you were loving them, but you hated getting dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon. You and Coryo could no longer eat lunch outside, and the previously full lecture halls you had occupied saw more and more students dropping out as people stood outside just to shout at you as you came and went from the school four days a week. To call you an animal, that you don't belong there, that you should be "put down" for crimes against the Capitol. What they were? You had no idea.

Suffice to say, parents were not happy that you were there.

Generally, Coryo said that people had loved you in the games. You were "harmless", and "sweet", you gave them someone to root for- but now that you were walking freely among them instead of being kept behind the bars at the zoo or trapped inside the arena awaiting your death, you were suddenly a threat.

"They... they think I'll hurt someone?" You sniff, watery eyes overflowing as you look at Coryo lying beside you in his bed.

He bites his tongue, nodding as he wipes away your tears with the hand he has resting just under your cheek on top of his pillow. "They're afraid. That's all, it's not because of anything you did."

"I won't." You cry. "I would never, you know that, right?"

"I know, love. I know that." He promises you quietly.

"I don't want people to be afraid of me. It's not fair to them... If they feel unsafe I should just drop out."

"You're not doing that." He insists with a slight shake of his head. "We'll figure it out. Okay? Don't worry about them."

You just nod softly, wiping your eyes as he pushes his arm under your neck. "C'mere." He mumbles rolling onto his back and you move closer, laying your head on his chest as he pulls you closer to his side.

Coryo did figure it out, for the most part, which is how you ended up standing in Capitol TV's studios, awaiting an interview with Lucky Flickerman, someone you definitely thought you would never see again after the games. You didn't know how Coryo did it, who he had to talk to in order to convince them to let you plead your case so publicly. Apparently, the Snow name came with more power than you knew.

"You're gonna do great, love." Coryo whispers to you. "Just be yourself, but remember what I said about your essay, right? Be honest, but think about how you word things. I know you can do it." He assures you quietly, hands resting on your shoulders.

You nod, giving him a hopeful smile. "Thank you."

"I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere." These types of reassurances were becoming less and less necessary over the month you've been here, but still, you don't like it when he's far, and he doesn't like it when he doesn't know where you are. It worked nicely for you both.

"Miss Y/L/N, whenever you're ready." One of the crew directs you, pointing to the comfortable chair they had set up in front of a homey-looking backdrop. It was fake, but it was meant to look like you were in someone's house. The idea of it was confusing to you, but you supposed it was also unimportant. You had much bigger concerns.

"Thank you." You smile at them and give Coryo another quick nod before making your way over to the seat that they said was yours.

Coryo watches as you carefully brush your hands over the front of your dress, smoothing it as you sit down. You looked so elegant as you did it, if he didn't know better, it looked like the habits of the people you were now surrounded with were rubbing off on you quickly. He had watched you rehearse how you would carry yourself and how you would speak and act with Tigris just this morning, after she fit you into the dress she had made for the occasion. Clearly, you had been paying attention.

When you draw your hair from your back and over your shoulder so your meticulously styled curls wouldn't be crushed against the chair, Coryo thinks he might need to sit down. Especially so when you look back at him again, subtly waving at him with your hand from where they are placed in your lap. The dress Tigris had given to you was red- a deep red silky material that complimented the red of his coat and mimicked the shade of the Capitol's flag but still had you standing out on your own. Seeing the way that dress fit you and hugged your form in all the right ways even as you were sitting, he was sure he had never been more grateful to his cousin and her talents.

"Y/N, it's so good to see you again." Lucky smiles at you as he sits down across from you, adjusting the small device attached to his lapel as crew members come up to you and fasten the same thing to the front and back of your dress.

"You as well." You grin, trying the best you can to mask your nervousness.

"Are you ready? Do you need anything?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I am ready whenever you are." You confirm, looking around as some more lights flick on, bright in your eyes as the man behind the camera starts counting down.

You look over at Coryo one last time and he nods at you. It was just like your first interview all over again- you had to sell yourself to the people. To prove that you were worth trusting.

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman," You smile as he flips a coin up into the air. You've seen him do it before, but you still weren't sure how the trick worked. "Amateur magician and your host for everything interesting on Capitol TV, and today is certainly no exception. Today, I have a familiar face with me who I know you will all recognize as well, the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, Miss Y/N Y/L/N." He looks over at you and you keep your eyes on him, certain that all cameras are watching you now.

"Y/N, I am so happy to have you back. How have you been?" Lucky asks you and you're already fighting off the need to fidget with your hands.

"I am very well." You smile at him. "How about yourself? It has been a while."

"I'm great, thank you! You know, I was not allowed to bet on the games, but anyone who was there can tell you that I predicted your win from the beginning. You certainly are something else."

"Oh, well thank you." You giggle. "Though, I can't fully be credited for my win. I have to thank the sponsors who allowed Coriolanus to send me food and water. That made all the difference in my game."

"Oh, most definitely." He agrees. "But you shouldn't deny your own role in that. Hiding in the vents, that was genius!" Lucky claps. "Truly, that was a jaw-dropping moment for all of us watching. I remember thinking 'wow, how did she think of that?' It was incredible!"

"Yes, well, I saw the grate and knew it was worth a try." You shrug, slightly laughing. "I had nothing to lose."

"Yes, well, I'm dying to know- what have you been up to the last few months? You went back to Twelve, and then what?"

"Oh! Yes, I did. I've been spending time with friends and family, I got a job at the local library, catching up on some reading, that sort of thing." You grin, glancing at Coryo for only a moment and he gestures for you to continue. "I got home and I really realized for the first time how much we should be appreciating everything we have- even out in the Districts where sometimes life is tough, it's key to remember how privileged we are to be alive. The games were truly eye-opening for me."

Coryo gives you a quick nod of approval, and you smile, training your view back on the man across from you.

"Yes, I agree. Live life to the fullest, that's what they say." You just nod at his response. "Which also begs the question, if you were happy back in Twelve, what brought you back to the Capitol?"

Let the lies begin.

"Well," You laugh nervously. "When I was given the opportunity to come here for the games back in July, I was so interested in everything. The people who I got to talk to, the things I got to see, it was all amazing and I was just dying for more."

"So you decided to come study at the university here, is what I've heard."

"Yes, exactly." You grin. "I just think that the Capitol has so much to offer as far as education goes, I am already learning so much and I am having so much fun doing it."

"So really, your focus is just on your education." He prompts you and you nod.

"Definitely, considering the course load I don't have time for much else, but that doesn't really bother me. Like I said, I just want to learn from the greatest minds in the nation. Even the other students, it's amazing! Everyone has earned their spot there and I can see why and all the work they have put in to be there. It's a privilege to study among them, and I am so grateful that I was given this chance."

"You say 'all the work that they put in to be there', but you didn't attend the academy, so how is it that you were admitted?"

"I filled out the same application that all the other students did, I went through all the same testing." You confirm, nodding at him. "Although," You laugh slightly. "I was only given one day to complete it all. I was locked away in my room working on it all night. I hardly had time to blink, it was tough."

"Wow!" Lucky laughs. "One day? I remember when I applied to the university, my application took months to get just right. You must have aced it all."

"I am very proud of the work I did to be admitted, yes." You smile.

"From what I hear, you should be." He agrees. "So, you're really not in it for the sake of making friends."

"Well, I certainly would love to, but it is not my priority." You nod. "But, if any of my classmates are watching, I promise I am good at proofreading and if you need a second set of eyes on your papers, I'm happy to help. I'd also love to have more people to discuss our readings with." You joke, looking into the camera for the first time.

Lucky laughs. "You've heard it here, everyone. Y/N's pitch to make some friends!"

"Yes, I suppose it was." You chuckle, smiling at him.

"Now on the topic of friends while we're getting to know you better," You tilt your head at him while he begins the question, unsure where it is going. "Back home, do you have a boyfriend? Surely he must be missing you."

"No, not at home..." You laugh, catching in the corner of your eye as Coryo shakes his head at you, his face flat of emotion. "I don't have a boyfriend. Again, that's really just not where my priorities lie at the moment. I've... I've had a very busy year, you could say." You explain hesitantly.

"Wow! A beautiful girl like you?" You laugh nervously at his response. "Capitol boys! She's smart, pretty, and single. Just saying." He says, raising his hands.

You knew his job today was to help you, to make you more likable and more normal, to humanize you, but it was still uncomfortable to hear. "Oh, please." You laugh nervously, waving a hand at him. "Like I said, I'm just here to learn. I'm not after anyone's son."

"No? Not even all the handsome boys in your classes? I'm sure there are at least a few." He teases you and your cheeks flush red.

"I wouldn't know, I'm watching the lectures." You shrug jokingly.

Coryo is trying not to lose his mind while you talk about how single you are. Not that you were much of a willing participant, and to be fair he did tell you not to indicate to them that the two of you were together. You technically weren't, if he was being totally fair, but just because it hadn't been said doesn't mean it isn't real. He knew you knew that, though. So why was he getting so mad?

He doesn't even realize how little attention he was paying after that until you're standing up and shaking Lucky's hand. It was over, you'd done everything you could have to ease the minds of scared and angry Capitol parents.

Lucky gives you a quick hug, wishing you good luck in your classes before you're allowed to rejoin Coryo. "Ready to go?" He asks and you nod.

"How did I do?" You ask as you walk out of the studio and into the hall, aiming for the elevator to take you back to ground level.

"Amazing, love. You were perfect." Coryo confirms, still noticeably tense as he walks next to you.

"Are you sure?" You ask as he presses the button to call the car up to your level, unsure since he still hasn't really looked at you.

The door opens and you both step in. "Yes." He tells you again, quickly tapping the door close button.

"Oh, good. I was really nervous..." You laugh slightly as the doors slide shut, and as soon as any light from the hall ceases to enter the elevator his hands are on you and his lips are pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest squeak out of shock, but quickly relax as Coryo rubs familiar small circles on your hips with his thumbs. How he could be so gentle as he backs you into the wall of the elevator you don't know, but you're grateful for it as you hum into his mouth. But still, something was different.

Spending so much time with you only made him want you more. He loved you, he knew that, and someplace deep in the corners of his mind, he had always wanted you in a way he never thought possible when he first fell for you before the games. Now, with you curled up under his sheets almost every night, seeing you step out of the bathroom with damp hair after a shower in pyjamas that don't fit you quite right, he thought about it more than ever. Thoughts of you plagued him more than usual, and the best way to describe the accompanying feeling was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't show you off given the circumstances- at least not yet.

He trails his kisses away from your lips and across your jaw, pulling you tighter against him. "You're so beautiful, my love..." He mumbles into the skin just below your ear, leaving a kiss in his wake that has your head spinning.

You giggle, eyes fluttering open. "What has gotten into you?" You ask, hands sliding up over his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"I can't tell my girlfriend that I think she's gorgeous?" He asks, shaking his head slightly as he looks down into your eyes.

"Oh, so I am your girlfriend." You giggle and he nods, kissing you again.

"Of course you are, and don't forget it." He chuckles, pulling back from you as the elevator stops moving, waiting for the doors to open.

Your skin is flushed down to your chest as the doors slide apart and even though he's not touching you anymore, you can feel the ghost of his hands on you. You look up at him, a lingering smirk still on his face as he looks straight ahead and leads you out of the car.

The phone rang at the time you were eating dinner, and you quickly asked if you could be excused to go answer it. Coryo and Tigris both just nodded at you, but you could still feel their grandmother's eyes burning into your back as you quickly walked away. She still wasn't fond of you, but she tolerated you. For now, that was just enough.

You grab the phone off the receiver as the small round screen flickers to life. "Hello?" You answer, hopeful that it would finally be your family you see on the other side.

You had answered every call that came to the Snow's apartment for weeks, waiting anxiously to hear their voices again.

"Y/N, is that you, honey?"

You gasp with excitement when you get a clear enough view of your ma. "Ma! Hi!" You smile, leaning in a little closer to get a more clear view as the camera on their end begins to adjust. This was likely the first time it was being used.

"Oh, honey, how good it is to see you!" She smiles, and out of nowhere, you feel hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"You too, Ma." You nod, biting into your lower lip. You didn't want to cry so quickly into the call. "How are you? How's everything at home?"

"Same old." She shakes her head with a slight laugh. "I'm much more interested in you- how is everything? How is school? And how is Tybalt settling in? How are you settling in? My goodness, I just have so many questions!"

You laugh, quickly wiping a stray tear. You had told them about all of this in letters, of course, but she just wanted to hear you say it all. "Everything is good. School has been so lovely, Coryo walks me to all my classes and we eat lunch together between. And Tybalt just loves it here! They have a garden on the roof, and I take him up there as often as I can. Tigris won't stop giving him treats either so he couldn't be happier."

You look down at the animal as he brushes against your leg, looking up at you.

"That's amazing. I've been so worried, it's just so good to see your face again. God, we've been missin' you..."

"I miss you too." You agree, careful not to choke on your tears. "How is Len? And have you seen Lucy Gray and the Covey?"

"He's... He's doing alright." Your mother looks off-screen, and you assume he must be there. The look on her face, one of nervousness and hesitation tells you he doesn't want to speak to you. "But Lucy Gray has been around every day, she and Maude Ivory come over and they help me with hanging the laundry and such... It's been good to have them around."

You smile sadly, nodding slightly with the receiver pressed to your ear. You felt bad about that aspect of leaving- you spent as much time as you could before the games helping out around the house, but even in the summer when you came back you weren't much help. Your mother wouldn't let you do dishes all summer, for fear that the sight of a knife might set you off. She knew you came back a different person, and she wasn't taking any risks. All she really allowed you to do was hang laundry and "keep her company" while she did other home chores. But now, she didn't even have that.

"Can I speak to him?" You ask, referring to your brother who you knew was there.

She nods, waving off camera and holding her hand over the wrong part of the phone. "Lennox, come over here. Y/N wants to talk to you."

His response is muffled, but you make out the gist of it. 'I don't want to talk to her'.

"She's your sister, Lennox. You can't ignore her forever."

'If she wants to talk, she should come home.'

Your heart clenches in your chest and you chew your lip. You have to pretend you couldn't hear, but you just felt so horribly guilty. You shouldn't have left, but he doesn't understand you had no choice. He wouldn't be able to understand until you could come home and see him again, likely not until the summer. Coryo had told you to be mindful of what you write in letters and what you say on the phone, it's possible others were listening. The Capitol was always listening.

"He's just a little busy right now, honey." She smiles at you, but you can see right through it. "But tell me about your day! Did you have class?"

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie, @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses, @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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judessangel · 2 months

Text

unsuccessful hope

‌jude bellingham x f!reader

a/n: GUYS i love yall somuch bryv thank you so much for everything!!😞😞 i have school this week so i wont be active but ill try to post i promise!!i get out at 5 pm and i have a good idea for the next fic 😵‍💫 bytheway angst no happy ending (imSORYRY) + short☹️

summary: after months of silently harboring feelings for jude, you summon the courage to confess, only to discover his heart yearns for someone else.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

y/n has been in love with jude ever since he joined real madrid, mainly because he is her brothers teammate, and they all spend a lot of time together.

she always thought that jude was an angel, with his charming smile and his undeniable talent on the soccer field.

she would often find herself daydreaming about being with him, but she never had the balls to tell him how she truly felt.

months went by, and y/n couldn't help but feel her heart ache every time she saw jude. she wanted so badly to tell him her feelings, but fear always held her back. what if he didn't feel the same way? what if it ruined their friendship?

but one day, she finally found the courage to do it.

after their practice, y/n mustered up all her bravery and walked up to jude. she could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she got closer to him. but she knew she had to do it. she couldn't keep these feelings a secret anymore.

"jude, heeeyy! can i talk to you for a minute?" y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"yeah, whats up" jude replied, giving her a warm smile that always make her weak in the knees.

y/n took a deep breath and finally let it out, "i just wanted to tell you that...i like you, jude. i have for a long time now. i hope you feel the same towards me."

she looked up at him, her eyes filled with hope, but instead of a warm response, she was met with silence. judes expression changed, and his eyes started to gloss over. stomach dropped, and she immediately regretted saying anything. she could tell something was wrong.

"y/n..um.. i..i didn't want to tell you like this." jude finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"what do you mean jude?" y/n asked, chuckling nervously, trying to control her nerves.

"i like somebody else." jude replied, his voice full of guilt.

y/ns heart shattered into a million pieces at those four words. she couldn't believe what she was hearing. jude liked someone else. she couldn't imagine who it could be. all this time, she thought jude liked her back, but she was wrong.

an argument broke out between them, with y/n feeling hurt and rejected, and jude not understanding why he hurt her that bad, why couldn't she just understand he doesn't like her in that way?

they both said things they didn't mean, and it seemed like there was no way to fix things.

after that day, things were never the same between y/n and jude. they tried to go back to being friends, but it was never quite the same.

y/n couldn't help but feel heartbroken every time she saw jude or heard about his new love interest. she always wondered if she had never said anything, would they still be friends? always wondered would she ever get over him?

he was the first guy that looked at her that way, thought her jokes were funny.

she freezes everytime she hears her brother say anything about him, or say his name. she couldn't help but overthink, did he mean every single thing he said that day? she always thought she would never get over him.

but as time went by, y/n came to terms with the fact that she couldn't force someone to love her. she realized that sometimes, the person we want isn't always the one we need. and although it was a painful lesson, she knew that she would eventually find someone who truly loved her.

y/n and judes friendship slowly drifted apart, and they eventually went their separate ways. jude ended up with someone he liked for a while now,

just like y/n hoped she would with him...

#football #jb5 #jude #jude bellingham #bellingham #judessangel #la liga #real madrid #jobe bellingham #soccer #jobe #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader

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melanieph321 · 5 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - A House Is Not A Home Part 7/8

This chapter makes me 😤 but it had to be written.

Ruben's wife dies during childbirth along with their son. Ruben hasn't been in a relationship since. Y/N is a single mother to a four year old boy. She buys a house in the small town that Ruben lives in. The house needs alot of fixing which Ruben helps with, resulting in him slowly falling in love with Y/N. However, falling in love with Y/N makes Ruben feel like he is betraying his dead wife.

Enjoy!

A memorial for Gina was held at your house on the 25th. Katarina helped you with the food and David made sure to solve any logistics so that Ruben wouldn't have to. Alot of people in town had known Gina and most of them came to honor her memory. You had never imagined your house being this full of people. Especially people you didn't know.

"Hi."

"Hey."

You found Ruben alone on the porch, a bottle of beer in his hand. It was his third one for the day. You felt guilty for keeping count.

"Food's ready if you want to head inside?" You said.

Ruben took a slow chug of his beer. "Nah, I'm good thanks."

"I could make you a plate, bring it out here if you like?"

Ruben tilted his head to look at you, a crooked smile on his lips. "It's okay Y/N, I'm not hungry."

You nodded, but did not leave the porch. "Mind if I join you?" You didn't think he would mind anyway and prepared to sit down. As you bent your knees Ruben's arm brought you down to sit between his legs on the step below where he was sitting. He tucked you in by wrapping his arms around your body, letting you relax with your back against his chest. There was a minute of silence as the sound of nature around you took over. Birds sang in the trees above your heads and a cricket lurked somewhere in the tall grass. You found it difficult to see beyond the property. There was fog in the distance. Not even the barn could be spotted amongst the evaporating clouds.

"Do you miss her?" You asked. Perhaps the question wasn't justified in a time like this, but you wanted Ruben to feel comfortable talking about Gina with you, somthing you knew he wasn't.

"Every day." He sighed, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"What do you miss the most about her?"

Ruben had to ponder for a moment, perhaps let the memories of his wife resurface in his mind. "Her smile." He smiled. "And her kindness. Gina always wanted the best for everyone and would go out of the way for people, expecting nothing back. It's where we differ."

You tilted your head up, letting Ruben see the frown on your face. He raised a brow as to ask 'did I say somthing wrong?'

"You helping me with the house, was that not you showing your kindness?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I had my reasons."

"What reasons?" You sat up, wanting to face him.

"Like I said Y/N, that house had been haunting me for years. I was glad to sell it to you, but I wasn't gonna let you stay in a house with no roof. Helping you clear the house after the storm was not me being kind, it was strictly business."

You wanted to argue further, ask if Ruben kissing you had been strictly business as well? However, your questions silenced within you since Ruben was probably hurting. You settled down between his legs again and let his rough hands outline the contours of your face. Behind you the front door came ajar. Both you and Ruben turned around to see David, with Johnny bouncing in his arms.

"Has any of you seen Emily? Kat says she's missing."

Ruben got up almost immediately, forcing you to do the same. "I'll check upstairs." He said.

"Alright. Johnny and myself will check the basement, but I doubt it she's down there." This left you on the porch, feeling ill willed that you had no interest in looking for Gina's sister Emily. Nevertheless you grabbed a coat from inside and stepped out again. You might as well cover some ground as to say that you participated in the search. You came as far as to the fields where the fog was as thickest. But as you stood near the fence you could see the outline of the barn, it's door swaying with the wind.

"Emily?"

Light rain had begun to fall when you reached the barn. You hurried to take cover under its high roof.

"You threw all of it away?"

You turned as a shadow swept behind you. It was Emily, wearing nothing but a black dress and a pair of gummiboots.

"My god Emily, what are you doing in here? Aren't you cold?"

Emily gave you one of her fretful glares. You had gotten quite used to them since she stepped into your house. She made it seem like everything you did was wrong or insulting, weather that would be clearing a plate from a table or hand Johnny his juice. For some reason Emily seemed to constantly judge you. Obviously disliking you.

"You threw all of it away, all of her things." Emily hissed, ignoring your question.

"What things?" Emily was older than you, but only by a couple of years. Along with Gina she had studied law in Manchester, now serving as a divorce attorney at a law firm in the city. Compared to her you felt so unacomplished with your nursing degree.

"My sister things, all of her belongs. They used to be here in this barn." She said, clearly upset not to have found them there.

"They were given to charity." You said. "It was Ruben's idea actually."

"He would never." She chuckled. "What else have you brainwashed him to do, huh?"

"Pardon?" You frowned.

"You've forced Ruben to give away all the last memories of my sister, what else have you done? Tricked him to thinking that your son could ever replace the child he lost?"

You caught yourself wanting to say something that you would regret, but quickly redeemed yourself. Just like Ruben this must be a very difficult day for Emily as well. "I know you're hurting Emily." You said, your voice low and reasonable. "But making others around you hurt too, won't make the pain go away."

"Who are you to...." Emily flinched, but you interrupted her. "Ruben hasn't done anything to deserve this." You said. "But there is nothing wrong with moving on. Surley it's what Gina would have wanted."

"What do you know?" Emily's face trembled with rage as tears slid down her cheeks. "What Gina would have wanted, Ruben and I are going to make that happen, sooner than you think."

Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure what she was indicating.

"He hasn't told you I see." Emily looked amused. "I suppose he wanted to spare the time you had left together."

"What are you talking about Emily?" You couldn't stand her fretful glare. The way Ruben described Gina, she would have been nothing like her sister.

"Gina always wanted a house in the country."

"Yes, so I have heard." Katarina and David told you this some time ago.

"But she also wanted a house in the sun. Ruben suggested his home country, Portugal. The sun there definitely shines more than it does here. All he needed to do was get rid of the house. Luckily he found you."

You were beginning to understand.

"Upon my arrival I was given the green light from the land owners in Madeira, and what would be greater than me delivering the news to Ruben personally. Turns out he and you had gotten a little too familiar during the treaty of the property. A distraction, I think he called you."

"You're lying!" You exclaimed, by now you really were pissed. Emily's uneven stans also suggested that she has had a little too much to drink to cope with her emotions. What she was saying to you couldn't possibly be the truth.

"Ask him yourself." She laughed. "Am I not telling your little friend the truth Ruben?"

You turned around as Emily's gaze was focus somewhere over your shoulder. Because of the increasing rain you hadn't heard him come up behind you. Ruben, standing in the rain, looked both guilty and innocent at the same time.

"Y/N...let me explain."

He had overheard your conversation and these were his first choice of words.

"It's true?" You frowned.

"Yes ." Emily spoke behind you, but your eyes were only on Ruben.

"Yes and no." He said. "I was planing on selling the house and use the money to build a new one in Portugal, but...."

"But?" You chuckled as it was absurd. How come he hadn't told you?

"But then I met you." He nodded. "And I couldn't decide."

"So you're still contemplating it, moving to Portugal?" You were quite stunned. Ruben's answer was slilence which was enough for you.

"Y/N, don't."

You stepped outside, the rain showering you in seconds. You turned back to the barn where Ruben stood in the doorway. Emily had shied away in the back, perhaps too difficult for her to remain standing.

"For once in my life I need someone to choose me." You said.

"Y/N, please, come inside. We can talk about this inside. " He stretched out his hand, offering it to you.

You shook your head. "There is nothing for us to talk about, I have a son Ruben and like always, I choose him. But for once...." Your voice trailed off. You thought about Johnny's father and how much this reminded you of the day you told him that you were pregnant. "For once..." You said, wiping your eyes. From rain not tears. "For once I wish someone would choose me. I was stupid to think that that someone would be you."

"Y/N, wait!" Ruben stepped out into the rain, chasing after you. He didn't chase for long, of course. Emily was left in the barn, drunk and unable to return to the house by herself. And so Ruben made a choice. He chose her.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

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rise-my-angel · 5 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 18.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, life threanting child illnesses, references to masturbation, alcohol consumption, rigid/restrictive self imposed view of female sexual behavior, mention of character deaths, smut, explicit sexual descriptions

Notes: Just an interesting peek into four specific past events/time periods with the reader, from the various POV's of Jon, Ned, and Robb. Series Masterlist Here

Of all Robert's brothers, Eddard Stark would say he knew Stannis Baratheon the least in a personal sense. He had nothing against him, on the contrary. Robert gave no praise or a shred of thanks for it, but the middle Baratheon brother had spent the entire Rebellion with a tough resolve which few men could handle. For many, war was easy. They all knew how to fight, how to kill, but it took something else of a man to handle what he had.

It was a direct result of the only defeat their side of the rebellion ever had. The Battle of Ashford. Robert had moved his forces to the western border of the Stormlands to march on Ashford, right on the edge of the Reach and it was a risky move. Stannis had been ordered to hold Storm's End, but he warned his brother that taking his forces so far west so soon was a mistake. That he should instead march North and join Ned's own forces along with the knights of the Vale led by Jon Arryn. But he didn't listen, and Randyll Tarly defeated him.

The result however, was catastrophic yet necessary in a way that Robert never quite appreciated. His defeat meant that it left the Stormlands open to be invaded by Targaryean loyalists. Mace Tyrell commanded his men to besiege Storms End, thinking taking it would crush Robert's morale.

But what they could not crush, was the determination of Stannis Baratheon.

They surrounded the ancestral seat of House Baratheon for an entire year, and it would not end, even after Aerys Targaryean was dead. Stannis refused to yield like few would. Ned had mostly heard much of this from Renly, only a boy of six when it happened. A year they spent running out of things to resort to eating. Eventually they turned to getting creative, trying to find anyway to make something edible be it from anything before turning to the worst. Barley managing to feed his starving wife and little brother on the rare occasion Stannis could shoot whatever bird passed the beach from a bow.

Renly as Ned recalled, talked in great detail that Robert had insisted must be exaggerated, that as they would desperately be shooting seagulls down one at a time to keep from starving, while the Tyrell army of many tens of thousands, would feast in full view of the castle with the voluminous amount of food supplied by the Reach. By the time Ned had arrived with his forces, he had long since left the capitol on his own. The Mad King was dead, Kings Landing was under Roberts control, and Rhaegar Targaryean had been killed at the Trident as well.

Mace Tyrell gave no fight to the Northern army and submitted right away. It was a brutal way to spend the war, and yet Ned knew even if Robert wouldn't say it, that Stannis's ability to so determinedly hold Storms End was of vital importance to their side of the war. It tied down most of the Tyrell army for most of the war, which took such a large amount of strong numbers away from the remaining Targaryean loyalists. And he had only done so, with only five hundred men.

He knew bitter feelings were left towards him over it. But Ned knew why. He wasn't deaf to the stories boasted about the battles. What the victory on the Trident looked like, what the sack of Kings Landing was like, but there was no great battle in Storms End. But Ned more then any of them knew that if Stannis Baratheon had not held the castle the entire time, or given up at the last minute, Neds forces would have been overrun. Robert's and Jon Arryn's forces would have been overrun.

Perhaps he thought as well, if Robert had done his brother the fair thing and given him Storms End as was his right, maybe Ned wouldn't have sat there in his study that afternoon, shocked that the middle brother had even anything to say to him.

Robert had Stannis take his fleet to Dragonstone where Aery's second son, now remaining heir, Viserys, had been with his mother. Rhaella passed giving birth to a daughter and at word of their families defeat, a small few had smuggled the Targaryean children to Essos.

They had fled before Stannis was even given orders, but Robert was so enraged he blamed Stannis all the same. He gave Storms End to Renly, and gave the now unclaimed Dragonstone to Stannis. Ned would think, perhaps if he was given the seat he had all rights too, maybe he wouldn't look back on Ned lifting the siege in such a bitter light.

So, imagine Eddard Stark's surprise at a raven from the man, explaining that his only child did not have the proper resources available to them on Dragonstone, to give them the education Stannis wanted for them. He appreciated how blunt he was in his choice of words, that while he knows the two men were not anything close to well acquainted, he respects his abilities as a commander and a leader, and saw little other choice to send his firstborn heir to learn from.

Now, that wasn't unusual. Many highborns were sent to serve as wards to other noble Houses, Ned himself had spent half of his life being raised in The Eyire with Robert. Jon Arryn was to that day, a man who had always been as good as a father to him. What wasn't normal, was sending your daughters for that very same idea. Though, he wouldn't say he thought it was a bad one.

Stannis had only one child, a daughter of eight, and it seemed he was intending on giving her the education of any lord. Likely considering the implication as Maester Luwin had pointed out, it's possible he could be preparing for the case in which his wife may not be able to give him any other children. So he wanted his only child, girl or boy, to prepare to be his proper heir. Which was how they ended up going back and forth for a number of weeks going into detail as to what to expect.

If he were to think about it in retrospective, it might have struck Ned as amusing that his sons first reaction to the news was mostly indifference. Not that they didn't care, both of them did, but he imagined for the weeks leading up to that day, he knew they likely barley thought of it until the Starks begun preparing. He didn't blame them of course.

Robb and Jon both were ten, what else did boys of ten have to care about when they had as much energy as the two of them combined held. But then the day came that you arrived. A small girl even at eight years old, you stood notably shorter then his sons. And you were rather small and said very little other then your clearly practiced curtsy of greeting.

Only a number of household guard was with you, as one of them, a younger man by the name of Allard had explained in delicate manner that you might take a bit to feel comfortable. Explaining that it had been horrible coincidence that the day you were set to sail to White Harbour, was only a day away from the same night your mother, Selyse, had lost her second boy in the womb and you might be hesitant about being here after that so soon.

Ned recalled how you were deathly quiet, eyes wide and as overwhelmed as you were scared. Turning to Allard before he left as if wanting to ask him to stay. The young man had knelt down to your level, quietly telling you, “You're allowed to be scared, tiny doe. New places are always scary. First time I sailed east, my father and I almost got beheaded by a first sword of Bravvos. But now I have friends and ladies always begging for my return.” Rather then a scared look, Ned found it striking how much like your father and uncle your narrow eyed scowl became when the man added, “I'm fairly certain Northerners aren't quite as dramatic as that.”

You hadn't been there for long, when at one point when Ned's attention was needed elsewhere. He had you stay in the training yard while he went to fetch his wife to take over for him. He did however, remember turning to check on you once more time only to notice someone else instead.

And Ned had come close to a smirk right away, realizing what look a certain son of his, had on his face.

If Jon Snow had thought it would be an uneventful day, he had not a clue how wrong he was about to be. He and Robb both were aware Lord Stannis's daughter was set to arrive but they were kept busy in the training yard like usual. The brothers going back and forth between playful and competitive as Ser Rodrick would have to keep them on track sometimes when they forgot they were supposed to be having lessons, not play fighting.

His back to that part of the yard, not realizing when anyone had come through until he noticed Robb's attention getting diverted somewhere behind him. Lowering his sparring sword he nodded somewhat in that direction, “I think the Baratheon girl is here.”

Jon knew he likely was trying to distract him, so he only intended to look briefly just to see when he turned partially around. His grey eyes going from narrowed to wide and bright as he almost instantly looked again as soon as he tried to turn back to Robb. By one of the tables closer to the archery range, you stood mostly on your own next to Jory.

Hair long and dark, but he noticed your eyes right away. They were such a beautiful shade of green and they were so bright, but he could tell there was a lot of nervousness behind them. Your posture stood mostly curled in on itself, glancing around as your hands wrung together in front of you like a anxious tick. You were short and small, and despite your best efforts not to, you stood out in the yard. At least to Jon you did.

Wracking his brain trying to figure out if he could remember your name he had suddenly sensed something behind him. Barley turning with a duck in time as he glared at Robb, who looked at him incredulously. “Did you forget about not turning your back on your enemy, Snow?”

Moving quick, the two danced around the other for a few hits as Jon grunted out between swipes, “I'm not the one trying to distract his opponent, beacuse I can't hit him otherwise, Stark.”

Lucky for them, Ser Rodrick could see that the two of them were getting too distracted to focus properly. Sharing a glance with his nephew, Jory who was the one making sure you weren't left entirely alone, the two Cassel's clearly read the others intentions. “Alright you two, pack it up for the time being. Go act a couple of proper lads and greet the poor girl.”

Both of them moved quickly, Robb mostly seemed calm as usual but as Jon put his sword away he started to feel his heart race a little. Glancing back at you, still you had a nervous, lonely look in your eye but the boy too felt dizzy. As he and Robb crossed the yard, Jon felt like he wanted to throw up, he was going to have to live with you in his home for the next number of months. Which was making him nervous on his own.

Beacuse Jon was fairly sure, you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

You were quiet, and oh so polite. A very small shy smile and a proper curtsy, as you introduced yourself first. His brother had it easy, introducing himself right back as Jon stood beside him, suddenly wishing he were anywhere else. Hoping if he didn't say anything, he wouldn't have to ruin everything before it started. Thinking if he remained silent, you would assume he was no one important, but of course not.

You looked at him quiet for a moment before you glanced to nothing at the side, Jon not realizing he may have been coming off as rude instead of nervous. Robb nudged him in the side, causing the spell to break and Jon whipped his head to the side to glare at him. “She asked your name.”

But he realized why Robb wanted his attention, and he has grateful beyond belief for his brother. He knew exactly what he was about to be shy over. A silent ask whether or not he wanted Robb to just introduce him as his brother alone, but Jon knew you'd figure it out eventually. He may as well get it all over with now. Meeting your now curious eyes, muttering low, “Jon Snow.”

For a moment, he was confused. Beacuse you didn't react, or do anything or even shift your expression slightly. You just glanced between him and Robb before innocently asking, “Lord Stark's other son, or am I mistaken? My father said he has two.”

Nodding his head, he didn't get a chance to hear you say anything else. Both boys attention noticing Lady Catelyn coming that way, and truthfully, Jon didn't want to deal with that in front of the pretty girl he had just met. Looking awkwardly between you and Robb, Jon turned to make his leave just as he could hear her quietly introducing herself to you.

As Jon returned his focus elsewhere, he spared one last glance as you followed Lady Catelyn so she could show you around the castle. Only briefly did you catch his eye as you looked around again, and it was the first time Jon saw that soft little smile that you for years, only ever wore for him.

It didn't really clue in for him right in that moment, but in truth Jon had spent the rest of the day thinking about you. He didn't have the words of what a crush was right away, but as it turned out he had far too much time only hours later to begin considering it.

Proper meals were hit or miss for Jon. Some days it was fine, he and Robb paid mostly attention to the other and he didn't have to worry. Other days he would feel as if Lady Catelyn was eyeing everything he did or said to find something to call him out on. Were she to have it her way, Jon wouldn't even have a place at their table during normal meals, but his father wanted him there and Robb certainly would be the most vocal about arguing against it.

He couldn't help but wonder if having another person there would make it easier or harder. By the time both boys arrived though, Jon worried that maybe you changed your mind. You barley looked at him, and didn't speak to him but it wasn't until halfway into the meal did they all notice you were particularly quiet.

Barley having touched your food at all, your eye seemed trained on the wood of the table as if you couldn't keep your focus on anything more. Lady Catelyn had spent most of her time ignoring Jon and keeping an eye on how inward you acting. Gently having to call your name twice before you blinked, coming back to the world and looking up at her, then to the others. All of them watching with some degree of curious that had you looked away, swallowing hard with nerves.

Trying to quietly get you to speak up, she had asked you “Getting used to the food in a new place can be difficult at first. Is there something else we can find for you?”

Your head shot up, shaking fervently in a no with wide eyes. “Everything is lovely, my lady.” They all doubted that if to judge by the three bites in total you had taken, but biting your lip in thought before quietly looking between her and Lord Stark in a gentle tone, “I mean no offence, I am just not hungry though.” Once more your eyes flickered away before finding Lord Starks. “Would it be alright if I lay down for a little while?”

Speaking right away, Ned had no issues. “You've had a busy day, of course it's alright.” Turning to Robb, their father nodded in your direction, “Robb if you could show her to her room.”

Robb had begun standing up, and the chatter around the table was just enough that no one noticed until it was too late. No one noticed something was wrong until you had collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Every one of them that shot up from their own seats by then, a shock on their faces but it was his father who was the quickest to move. Catelyn and the boys watching from their spots now standing as he knelt down to look you over.

“Is she-”

As soon as Catelyn had tried to ask him something, Jon knew something was very wrong. His fathers eyes were wide, mouth more agape as if unable to choose between too many emotions and far more worry then he'd ever seen personally. Interrupting his wife with just as a rough but urgent tone. “Go get Maester Luwin.”

Catelyn tried asking again out of genuine concern, but he lost patience by the second as he checked on you, raising his voice. “I need him now, Cat.” Turning to his sons with just a short but urgent instructions, “Robb go with your mother, and bring him to the room we set up for her. Jon, come with me.”

No one had any room left for questions, his father easily picking you up and holding you close as they went their separate ways. Each time he glanced at you, Jon could see you looked worse and worse by the second and that panic in him built up quickly.

Helping his father with laying you down on the bed carefully, his father ran a hand over your forehead again, the sweat accumulating as if he had sat you next to a bonfire. “Open the windows.” Even with the cold breeze of night flying in, both stood there realizing it didn't seem to do a thing.

His voice very quiet asking what was it, and his fathers answer didn't make him feel better. A low tone that was more concerned then he'd ever heard before. Shaking his head somewhat confused still as he did so, “She's burning up by the minute. Go get me water and a cloth, now.”

Everyone was quiet as Luwin looked you over. His own face twisting into a worry as the rest of them could only stand there and wait. Jon and Robb both looked at the other, neither boy liking how helpless they felt. His father had come to your side as well to help Luwin with something and the two gave the other a significant glance.

By the time anyone spoke properly, Luwin turned to both Stark parents with a morose look on his face that worried all. “I would only be able to guess she has had this fever for days without telling anyone. An illness rarely gets to be this bad in only a manner of hours.”

You had yet to wake up. Ned standing still close to your bedside with a narrowed expression asking, “How bad do you mean?”

If they initially thought keeping it between them was a better option, Luwin decided against it. A sorrow in his tone as he looked almost apologetic as he muttered quietly. “I would suggest preparing a raven to send to Lord Stannis.” Glancing back at you then Ned, “One that can be sent out at a moment's notice.”

The dread in that room was something else, this had gone to something so serious it was deadly so suddenly. Lady Catelyn was quiet but a weight in her tone that was trying to hold a lot back. “What can we do?”

Luwin looked over you again, still not even a hint of waking up as he laid a back back on your forehead to feel the same heat. “At this stage there isn't much we can do but wait and hope she wakes up.” Her repeating the word hope with a concern, Luwin nodded grimly. “Whatever illness she's caught, it is advanced passed preventing something worse. Right now we can only watch to see if she makes it through the night, and the next few if lucky.”

The boys both looked at each other once more, neither doing a good job at hiding their fear as they knew on the others face already. They were worried it was their fault for not realizing you weren't feeling well when they had met you. Not that it was, but they were two boys of ten stuck in a scary situation they couldn't control.

“Someone will need to watch her at all times, the moment something changes I will need to know about it.” In an instant, Luwin, his father, and Lady Catelyn had all begun discussing their own duties and times to work around. Jon once more looked at Robb, following then his eyeline to you laying there as the adults debated who should give what up when.

Thinking to himself, maybe it would've been more prudent to let Robb say it first. He was the eldest, the trueborn son and such a task made sense and he clearly was about to speak up, but while Jon felt the same pull, he also looked at you intently, and something he didn't understand still tugged at his heart.

Like he truly couldn't leave this room when you were like that. So before anyone made any firm decision, Jon raised his voice loud enough to break through the noise. “I'll do it.” Silence fell over the room as did the eyes that all turned to him. The nerves ran somewhat ragged in his blood, but Jon swallowed that all down and looked between his father and Maester Luwin with what he hoped was confidence. “Somebody needs to watch her, right? It's already late, I can take care of her.”

If he was trying to focus on his father, Jon regretted the quick glance his eyes took towards Lady Catelyn as she looked at him. Or glared, to be more accurate. Eyes sharp and dark and her expression twisted into a disapproving frown as if he was some criminal ready to violate you the moment Jon was alone.

His father asking, “Are you sure, Jon?”

Thankfully, he felt more confident in his nod. Another didn't. “Ned.” Her voice as as disapproving as her glare. “She should be watched by someone who knows what they are doing, leaving it to a-”

But he interrupted his wife without malice, but with an ease. “Jon is ten, Cat. Not four. We all have things to attend to, and Jon would only be missing time in the training yard for now.” Looking to Luwin without waiting for any response, he was more focused then before, beckoning Jon to step further into the room with him. “You follow everything Maester Luwin says, alright?”

Bless Robb's young heart, hadn't quite caught that it wasn't one of the boys watching you she disapproved of, it was just the boy being Jon. Coming up to her, putting a comforting arm around his mothers side as it to pull her into a partial hug, as he watched you with as much tense concern as Jon.

Maester Luwin had gently walked Jon through the things he required him to watch for, to pay attention to, and what to do for you to ensure your fever didn't burn you up too much in your sleep. “Any change in those, I need you to come tell me about right away. It's vital we monitor her closely the next number of nights.” Jon moved right near your bedside and though he could feel the cold air from the windows, he too could see the sweat dampening your hair all on your own.

His father had leaned down to him, “I'll come check on you later, alright? Take good care of her.”

Jon didn't look back at his father when he nodded, but just when he thought he was about to be alone, did he feel eyes. Slowly, turning halfway to look at the doorway was her glare. Lady Catelyn stood there looking like something sat right on the tip of her tongue that no doubt would've made Jon feel even worse, but she glanced more softly at you. Her final glare to him less hostile before she made her leave without a word.

The older both of them got, the more Catelyn stopped withholding her spiteful comments towards him in private.

Jon hadn't diverted his focus even once. The way in which Maester Luwin had implied you might not survive the night, terrified him. Every few minutes he would check everything he was told to, and then tell himself as soon as he sat back down, not to get up and check it all again right away. Part of him didn't understand why he cared so much.

He didn't know you, you had barley said six words to him. The daughter of some lord Jon didn't know, but here he sat, too scared to look away in case you would die the moment he did. Didn't even bother getting up to find something warm to wear from the night wind, focusing only on whether or not the fur atop you was too warm and moving to leave the thinner sheets on instead, hoping it would ease your temperature.

It wasn't until many hours had passed, and likely much of the castle either sleeping or trying to sleep did he think more of it. Grey eyes painting over with something disappointed at the thought. That little smile you gave him across the training yard. No one ever looked at him so sweetly. Not that many girls around cared about spending much time with the bastard boy when the heir to Winterfell was always right there, but he never interacted with a girl that way.

Many would hear his name, and stop caring. You didn't even react when he told you he was a Snow and simply asked if he was the second son of Eddard Stark you heard about. No questions or wonders, just an easy clarification before giving him that soft smile.

Something in him started to worry, if you woke up now would you be uncomfortable that he was taking care of you on his own? Or worse, think that he was trying to make up for his surname by doing something to impress you? Would you think him pathetic if you knew he was hoping you'd wake up and he could have that smile again?

By the time the moon was directly over the lands of Winterfell, it dawned on him that this must have been what a crush on a girl felt like. To constantly think about them in a way that made him feel both warm and somewhat embarrassed. He couldn't have a crush on you, you were supposed to be here for months how was he supposed to handle that? What if you never woke up and his only crush on a girl was on a dying one?

On the chair beside your bed, Jons forearms rested on his knees as he leaned as close as he could to get a better angle to make sure even if he couldn't hear your quiet breathing, he could see it. Focused enough he didn't even hear the quiet footsteps coming down the hallway or the figure peeking in watchfully at the open door.

Ned knew out of his two sons, one of them was a bit more sensitive then the other. That wasn't to say Robb was insensitive, just that Jon was the one who felt things more. He felt things more intensely, and much more raw and he wasn't yet good at hiding that on his face. He wore his heart on his sleeve, even though he knew he tried to hide that fact.

It used to scare him. A lot about Jon used to scare him. The man was sure he aged decades in Jons first few years of life. Doing what Jon was doing now, watching intently only for a vastly different reason. His third nameday passed and Ned finally had come to ease up about certain aspects. The fear of what he might look like had gone away.

Then only to be replaced by the fear of who he would take after. Jon struggled with controlling his emotions more then Robb did when they were still young. Never out of control, but clearly Jon took to negative things harder then his brother and it used to be the new thing that scared Ned.

He didn't know much about the man and he didn't want to. But what he did know, he was terrified in ever seeing in Jon. But Northerners were not men said to be weak willed, and him being the one to raise him was doing better for Jon then Ned once feared. Certain parts still worried him, and as he leaned against the door frame, watching his son never take his eyes off the poor, feverish girl, unconscious in her bed, did Ned briefly see it.

Not in a thousand lifetimes would Ned ever use love to describe anything that man had directed towards Jons mother, but perhaps obsession was. Sometimes he pushed it away so deep that he never came close to thinking about any of it. But other times like that moment, Ned watched Jon and was trying to figure out what was simply a result of the life Ned raised him in, and what was something he couldn't control.

He trusted Jon to take care of you, he loved and trusted his son with all his heart. And it was nothing but a genuine worry and affection he watched you with, but it was an intense way he refused to look away that felt like obsession. Even if the boy didn't understand that.

It was one of the few times Ned Stark wondered, just how much of his father had Jon Snow truly inherited?

It was the third morning in a row the Stark parents were alone to break their fast. Normally, it was nice. The quiet between them left Ned and Catelyn the free time to enjoy the others company the way they liked, while somewhere outside in the training yard they could hear Robb and Jon both yelling at the top of their lungs with far too much energy.

But, it was silent. Those who worked around the castle were silent, the guards of his home were silent, and so were they. Ned knew Cat was first more on the side of grateful that Jon was missing more meals then normal. He was never comfortable with his wife's attitude towards Jon, but it was safer then the alternative of truth. It had been ten years since he brought that black haired, grey eyed baby boy home from war and they had simply agreed to speak little of Cat's negative views of her husbands bastard.

It was however, odd that in the silence, Robb wasn't there either. The first few mornings, they had assumed he wasn't in the mood for it, which he wasn't. Robb's lessons for two days, were ended rather early as he could barley concentrate. But then that morning he still wasn't there.

Asking Jory where his son had snuck off too, he had responded with ease of “Went to the kitchens early, brought something over to Jon to eat while Robb watches the poor lass. Was there yesterday morning too, not sure either of them have even slept the past few nights.”

Once more, Ned said not a word of the conflict in Catelyn's eyes as long as she didn't say it. It was the truth in the only ways that ever would matter for good, Jon was his son and he didn't appreciate her hostility being spoken behind his back as if Ned agreed. He was however, much more relieved at his plaguing thoughts of his son, knowing that clearly, his other son was as worried as Jon even if he was better at not showing it.

“Robb should take over.” Ned said his wife's name in warning, but she insisted in a more genuine tone of voice. “It's been days, if it goes on much longer someone will have to watch her instead, regardless. We should let Robb have that responsibility for a while.”

Shaking his head, Ned reached for a drink with not an unkind dismissal. “Jon is doing just fine, if he wants to take care of the girl, so be it.” His wife claiming he should be sharing his responsibilities when Ned shut the rest of the debate down, “Let him have this, Cat. He wants to do it, let him do it.”

Both unaware that Robb had been listening with a narrowed brow in frustration. Not wanting his mother to look badly on his brother, when Robb knew there was nothing wrong with what Jon was doing. Maybe if he did take over for a bit, his mother would be easier on Jon when he inevitably took back over.

“I'm not a moron, Snow.”

Jon tried and failed to not roll his eyes. He wasn't actually annoyed, but he hadn't slept for more then a few hours in three days. His eyes were dark, even beyond the dark grey inside them, and he was irritable more then usual. He had really only let himself sleep a bit when Robb was with him. Normally, it was entirely an accident. Jons head would be propped up on his palm while his elbow was leaning against something and he'd jolt back awake minutes later. Looking between his brother and you before standing up to check on everything all over again.

They were currently debating on whether or not Jon should go up to his room and sleep properly for a while, and Jon would argue that he didn't want to be away if something bad happened. Robb, who wasn't quite as well slept as he pretended to be, would throw back the insinuation asking if he was assuming Robb didn't know how to care for one sick girl. Leading to the debate right now.

Hoping he wasn't coming off as some creep the way he kept insisting he be the one to watch over you himself. And even more hopeful, that Robb had bought the story that one of the maids had done it for you, when his brother asked when your hair had been braided.

He didn't need to know, that in Jon wanting to get your now sweat dampened, messy hair from making you uncomfortable, he had spent an hour figuring out how to do a proper braid in the middle of the night. Three nights and three days had passed since you fell unconscious and Jon had fully accepted what he was feeling.

Because the feeling in his chest, matched far too close with the look of love in his fathers eyes when looking at his own wife. Jon didn't need you to wake up for that, he just wanted you to wake up so he could know you properly by now. Your fever had begun to go down, and significantly over the course of that morning did you begun to cool off enough that Jon closed the windows finally.

At some point, Maester Luwin estimated you would awake sometime in a day or two, and Jon now knew that he wanted to get to know you. Wanted to befriend you, because he needed to be sure the pretty girl he was in love with, at least liked him in a way that mattered.

Jon wondered if the old gods had been listening to him, because it was not much later when Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin had come to check on you did you begin to wake up. The boys kicked out of the room to not overwhelm you, and he still wouldn't see you until the next morning when she led you gently down to have something to eat with them.

You were even quieter then before, wrapped up in a thick, warm shall and looked rather nervous around them all, but that didn't go away for almost a month for everyone.

He felt terribly guilty about it. He was a teenage boy, it was normal, but he felt as if he was somehow in the wrong for doing it.

It all stemmed from how your last letter had been sitting on Jon's desk in his chambers for nearly a month and he still hadn't sent anything back. That wasn't the case with Robb, he knew the two of you still wrote one another like normal. But Jon let that last letter sit there, every now and again telling himself he would finally do something about it, but he would get as far as picking it up before changing his mind. He hadn't even read it yet at that point.

You had only been gone a little over four months but a lot had happened in that time, especially for you he had known. You returned home earlier then planned in order to be there when your mother went into labor. It hurt seeing you go sooner then Jon was ready but he understood that, other then you, she had never made it this far with another pregnancy and it was looking more and more like you would finally have a sibling all of your own.

Finally, only a fortnight after you left, your mother had given birth to a baby girl. He remembered thinking it was fitting you had a sister now. His two baby sisters were still quite young, and they had both taken their fair share attaching themselves to you like their own big sister. You would be perfectly ready to take care of one.

Around the same span of weeks, the Iron Islands had declared themselves as an independent kingdom once more, and a rebellion had begun against them and the crown. Taking both of your fathers away from you and Jon, as they left to fight that war.

Short it was, lasting but two months before they were able to sail to Pyke and after a siege, forced Balon Greyjoy to surrender. His other sons had been killed in the battle, and his brothers Victarion and Euron had been utterly defeated in battle at sea by Stannis Baratheon's fleet. The terms of their surrender in exchange for peace, was in part, the agreement that Balon's last living son was to taken by the Crown. Technically as prisoner, serving by action as ward.

Which was how Theon Greyjoy came into their lives. Serving in the North under Eddard Stark was the better option, not that the Ironborn would say it. He was struggling to get used to his new circumstances, but Jon and Robb were trying to make the best of it. Hoping at least if the Greyjoy found something of a friend in either of them, maybe he'd settle down. That seemed like the worst of it was over.

Until another raven had come. And it was that, which ultimately led to the guilt Jon sat with now in his chambers, far too late at night to be awake still.

Only months after her birth, your new sister Shireen, had somehow contracted a disease known as Greyscale. The entire island of Dragonstone was suddenly closed off and sealed to the world as everyone knew how bad it was. By the time his father sat he and Robb down about it, he had to be realistic about what he told them.

Saying it was possible by now it could have spread to the entire castle. Thus nothing was to go in or out of Dragonstone. No trade, ships, ravens, nothing. They had no idea if you were alright, and it hurt one more then the rest. Robb was upset and angry but he kept calm when not in private in order not to startle his younger siblings, who as of then, didn't quite understand the gravity of the disease being said was in your home.

But Jon? It wasn't good. He had no idea what to do about his feelings as it was, but this helplessness and not even knowing if you were safe, he hated it. Jon was in a bad mood all the time, he was irritable and short in temper.

It was the first time Jon was realizing, his feelings for you had grown out of an innocent childishness between two friends. He thought of you all the time, and he only got angrier everytime he remembered he couldn't even send you a raven telling you he hoped you were alright. Spent a lot of time in the training yard for the next number of weeks, trying to spend that energy on something but at night in the quiet? There was no distracting Jon from the frustrating degree to which he was undoubtedly in love with you.

Robb would find Jon wanted to spend more and more time distracting himself with anything, and more of his days ended up being spent arguing back with Lady Catelyn then ignoring her spite. It was a rough time, and he was pretty sure she despised him once he started letting his temper out more when she was rude or hostile. He didn't feel good about it, and he was never like that with his fathers wife after it had all settled, but it stuck out in her mind and didn't let it go.

Jon didn't know what to do, but he didn't want to tell anyone about his feelings for you. Beacuse with realizing his feelings were much more grown up now, came the understanding that he could never do anything about it. You were a highborn girl, born to the brother of the King. You were part of the royal family and Jon was just a bastard from the North.

It bothered him before, sure. But it wasn't until those days did it truly hit Jon that being with you would never happen. So by the time everything simmered down? He got your first letter in months, and Jon still hadn't opened it. He didn't know what to say.

He knew Shireen's life had been saved, he knew Robert Baratheon had come to Dragonstone to implore his brother he no longer wanted him to serve from there, and that he was of far more use living in the capitol. Jon knew your father had moved you to Kings Landing with him by then. But Jon only knew those things, because of what was said in your letters with Robb.

Jon didn't know what your letter said, but if he read it, then he'd feel compelled to respond to it. Which was the problem. You had been through a lot that made you vastly more mature then girls Jon knew that were your age, but you were also slightly younger then him and thus it made your innocence a lot more important to him. If by some miracle he thought, if you ended up developing anything close to feelings for him, Jon knew his would be different then yours.

He didn't know how to deal with it. He never had a crush before you, and he's never had any eyes for anyone that wasn't you since. It was always you, and Jon had no idea what to do about it all.

You were Jon's best friend. His beautiful, sweet, smart, but incredibly innocent best friend. There was no chance you had even a slight inkling of any physical feelings like that, and Jon wasn't even sure if you really understood what sex even was by that point. It used to be funny to tease you about it, but now it wasn't funny to think about. You deserved to be thought of in a better manner by your best friend, but the way Jon both avoided you and failed at avoiding certain ways of thinking about you was not what you deserved.

By the time you had been in Kings Landing for over a month, Jon still let that letter sit on his desk. Watching Robb answer the more he got, and you wouldn't send him anything. Jon knew you didn't want to send him anything if he didn't want to reply, worrying you'd be pestering him. So he just let you think he was mad at you.

Maybe he thought in retrospective, Jon wouldn't have felt so guilty about all of this, if he could go back and just not have given in. But far too late at night, he finally found it in him to open your letter. He could hear your voice so clear in his head, see you, feel you. The ease in which you fit in his arms that night by the lake without ever thinking twice of his affection. If he asked Theon, he'd likely say it was normal and to just not care about doing it.

It wasn't something new to him, he was a teenage boy after all. But that night, it was the first time Jon got off thinking about you. It took him about another month after that night to write you a letter back, taking that long due to his sheer guilt over it. Then he got your reply so soon, as if you wrote a long letter in minutes and sent the raven off the second you read his letter, excited beyond anything to hear from him finally. And for Jon, the cycle of guilt started over again.

Jon hated having adult feelings for you. Beacuse he knew without any doubt, you were not thinking about Jon, in the same way he did you.

It was a massive risk what he was doing. He should know better, he was a man now, not a boy. Yet, he couldn't tell if it was having just enough wine in him to lower his judgment, or if you simply made him weak.

The four of you had taken advantage of being mostly alone in the castle as far as the Starks went. It wasn't often they all had time to themselves, but they always took advantage of it. Jon, Robb, Theon and you, had all been in the Greyjoy's chambers having far more to drink then they should have. Which in turn, resulted in Theon commenting that he didn't understand how you could keep up with them. “How's a child that small handle that much wine?”

Your face twisting as you threw something at him, “Since when is seventeen a child, Greyjoy? I recall hearing you in here doing an awful lot a child shouldn't when you were seventeen.”

Theon arguing back as Robb and Jon watched in a high degree of amusement between them. “I'm a Greyjoy. We leave the womb practically men already. You on the other hand, I'm amazed you even knew what I was doing in here. Aren't you as innocent as a septa at this point, surprised you even showed up tonight.”

Your answer was to move quicker then he expected, snatching his own wine and downing it in one go with not a blink or flinch. Before leaning back in your seat with a smirk of your own. “I'm a Baratheon, if we're good at two things, it's drinking, and yelling.”

That in turn as well, resulted in you and him having a competition, some sort of drinking challenge that was common amongst Ironborn. The two wolves ended up watching in great entertainment how much you and Theon tried to pretend you weren't as drunk as you both clearly had become. Robb and Jon both laughing that they were grateful they didn't put money on it, because to all three of their surprises, you had managed to put on a fairly composed face for just long enough that Theon relented.

Granting you the title of victor as Theon stumbled back into a drawer, Robb laughing as he yanked him up to at least settle him. “If you're going to pass out, least do it on your bed.”

Theon had barley laid down, eyes shut as he swore at you under his breath. You managing to get a steady laugh out at his expense before moving from the table. Only the second you stood up, clearly the world had spun you off your feet. Theon grumbling from where he lay, “Oh so they rush to save you, but let me fall on my ass.”

Jon had grabbed you before you fell to the ground, but being pulled back into him only made you laugh more. Jon being drunk enough that he found no ability or notice to the way he smiled and looked adoringly at how easily you let loose. Robb had grabbed your hands to pull you more on your own feet as Jon kept you steady. The elder wolf half turning back with a quickness to Theon, “That's because unlike you, her ass is pretty.” You grumbled telling him to shut up, as Robb nudged you back with a grin.

Eventually, the two of them had decided to split up. Robb staying to make sure Theon wasn't about to throw up in his sleep, as Jon would bring you back to your own chambers. The door behind him had only just closed when he took advantage of the empty hallway. Going from keeping you at his side, to scooping you up in his arms, your hands wrapping around the back of his neck with a laugh as you protested with his name falling from your lips to put you down.

Jon had no proper sense in the empty hall, despite who was so close behind that door. Turning to look at you, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a needing kiss before mumbling against them. “Shut up and let me enjoy you, Baratheon.” Kissing you once more before you rolled your eyes, leaning into him with a smirk but relenting.

Bringing you into your own chambers, Jon had gently laid you on your bed. “Stay there.” Moving about your room in a moment, tending to the fire in your room before closing the window still open from the day. You had pushed up on your palms to sit against the headboard up right, eyes narrow as Jon then sat on your bed, reaching for your boots to begin pulling them off.

Your voice was quiet, quieter then Jon assumed you thought you were being. “I can do this part myself, you know.”

Jon barley reacted, instead moving to gently pull off your outer layers, knowing you'd just sleep in them uncomfortable by that point if left on your own. “Just let me take care of you.” He knew you caught his playfully dismissive tone, even as light as your mind left you. Leaning back more comfortably, Jon knew he could feel your eyes on him, trying not to feel his own flustering smirk. “What?”

But it was as he looked up at you, did your eyes seek his out, painting nothing but gentle and soft as you found no will power to look away. Mumbling a bit, “Why are you so sweet to me?” Jon raised a questioning eyebrow as he slid closer on the bed more to where you sat, waiting for you to elaborate.

Hand reaching out, you grabbed one of his, gently playing and mindlessly toying with his own fingertips as you spoke, before letting it rest in your lap still holding the other. “No one's ever been as sweet or nice to me as you always are. I don't get it, even tonight I'm only being a drunk pest but here you are anyways.”

His hand reached up, cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over the soft skin, leaning forward to let you feel more of his own warmth, rasping quietly. “You're my drunk pest, only I get to put up with you like this.” Your face twisted in a jesting offence, so he moved to lean forward. Hovering just above your lips, waiting for you to be brave enough that night to kiss him first. But you exhaled shakily, and so for another day Jon closed the gap.

His hand slipping behind to cup the back of your neck to hold you closer, your hands gently found themselves resting on his shoulders, nails digging into the material, as you let him softly guide you. His own touch moving down to your waist, as you let him deepen the kiss, leaving a small bite on your bottom lip. But it was the gasp you let you, that caused him to do it again, and twice more before feeling bold and using that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, running against yours as he felt you both tense and reach a hand up to somewhat grasp at the edge of his neck where his curls sat almost instinctively.

Jon tilted your head up just enough that you had no choice but to meekly surrender control over to him, as he let his tongue brush yours. As if trying to convince you to be brave enough to explore him back, but Jon had known you were not the same as where he was about these things.

Sure his only experience was you, as yours was his. Maybe it was spending the past around five years growing from teenage boys to men with Robb and Theon, perhaps it was just the natural inclination being a man that made his mind more susceptible to thinking about you so physically. He'd been thinking about you like this since he was fourteen, and it was four years on did he even kiss you for the first time.

Jon had a lot of worked up need held in his system, but he knew the only physical things you knew much of at all, were limited. What Jon had explored with you so far, even if it was next to nothing significant. And he knew the noble girls you spent time around in Kings Landing spoke more candidly about certain things, but he didn't know what those were.

So he tried to keep you as innocent as you deserved. Only, as your other hand slipped down to run along his torso, it wound up sitting just low enough beyond his hipbone, and Jon felt that spark of need.

Losing himself for a moment, Jon surged forward. Kissing you more roughly, switching between bites that left your lips tingling and overwhelming you with how much he deepened it in between. There had been something in his mind the second he felt your palm sliding so low without realizing, something that made his cock stir. Climbing up onto the bed, you had no choice but to lay out flat as Jon hovered over you. His hand on your waist now pressed into the sheets beside you as was now the hand at the back of your head the other side. Your own now both at his waist as Jon felt more in control over top of you.

More and more he forgot to ease up. The more he kissed you, the more of your sighs and sounds, the high pitched need he would capture with his lips, the more Jon grew hard. Forgetting himself, forgetting what he would tell himself, that it was his responsibility to keep you innocent. Both a burning need to feel you more against him when so close this way, and something more instinct as Jon moved to grasp at your thigh. Holding tight he slightly shoved it wide before pulling up the skirt of your dress. Not enough he could see anything, but still you gasped.

And Jon once more let his tongue taste inside your mouth, moving enough so that he had the proper space to press more into you. He knew the very moment you felt his covered cock hard against you, as you made something akin to a needing moan of a sound deep in your throat. The wine had made you pliable to his need, and it had clouded just enough of his judgment that Jon started to grind his hard cock into you.

Thigh hoisted up onto his hip, Jon would lick and bite at your lips in the same instance he would rut into your core. Your hands reached for his shoulders and back arched up into his chest. Were he sober, Jon would've been able to tell you were far too nervous for this, but he struggled to hear that in his mind.

He rutted into you, growing harder against what he could tell was so warm between your legs, even through all the fabric. His mind was difficult to read for himself that you two were far too new for this. You hadn't been expecting this, he hadn't done anything like this to you before, and yet here he was with a low growl in his chest at how good you felt against him.

Once more a large, rough hand grasped at your jaw and side of your neck as he held your lips up his without chance of escape, as your hands found comfort in raking through his curls. He growled into your mouth as you let out a quiet whine before pulling back. Small strands of saliva breaking just as Jon rested his forehead against yours, hips moving perfectly against yours, as you looked unable to choose between peering up at him and keeping your eyes closed. The only sounds between you were heavy breathing and a restrained need in Jons low sounds of a growl.

Jon had no way of knowing, impossible for him to guess, but that burning and twisting feeling in your core, was actually something you didn't recognize. Didn't understand what you were feeling or if it was supposed to feel this way. The only understanding you had, was you were the woman, so you were supposed to just do what made the man feel good. Even though your heart raced and your mind felt confused with so much wine in your system, you tried to move against him because you wanted him to keep feeling what clearly felt this good for him.

Yet, as soon as you tried to move back against his hips in return, did Jon suddenly pull back. Kneeling up moreso between your still spread legs as you both panted to catch your breathe.

He looked down at you, the innocent confusion mixed with something overwhelmed in your eyes as you braced yourself up on your palms waiting for him to say something. But the more his gaze trailed down your body, the more he sobered up and the worse he felt. Pulling your dress back down modestly, Jon almost climbed off the bed entirely before you reached a hand out to his arm. “Wait- did I do something wrong?”

Jon's entire face twisted as he breathlessly looked at you with narrowed eyes, “What? No, of course not-” You had started to stammer asking what you did to make him stop, but suddenly the clearer Jons mind became, the more he realized how not even slightly clear yours was. You were so much more drunk then he was, and so much more willing to do only whatever he wanted.

Tentatively, his hands rested on your thighs, pausing as he went to move to position himself beside you, a gentle look in his eyes with a murmur, “I'm right here, lay down for me is all I'm asking.” You looked at him unsure before relenting. Laying down more comfortably, as Jon found himself laying on his side beside you. Tilting your head to look over at him with a hand gentle on your cheek. “You didn't do anything wrong, but it's not alright of me to take advantage of you when you're drunk.”

Your face both twisted in frustration, but also fell almost innocently confused. Your voice was even quieter, “You can't take advantage of me if you already have me in bed.” Jon could tell you had no awareness that you weren't anywhere near sober. “It doesn't matter Jon, just keep going.”

Letting his head fall somewhat into your neck, you reached up to gently run your hands through his curls as he turned your cheek better to fit your lips to his when he raised back up. Nothing deep or tense, just a chaste kiss as he mumbled against them after. “You're not a whore I've paid for, darling. You're not supposed to just lay there letting me do whatever I want to you, no matter what. You have to want it too, and not when you're this drunk.”

It was almost endearing, the way your brows furrowed. Tonight was bad time to have this discussion, you weren't sober enough to grasp his point. Evident by your very quiet plea, turning onto your side somewhat to see him better. “I don't care about any of that, you were enjoying yourself.”

“You're supposed to enjoy yourself too.”

Seven hells, did you ever break his heart as you so earnestly responded, “No, I'm not.” What on earth had those other noble girls in Kings Landing been saying to you? What could they possibly have told you that made you think you shouldn't- he had to reign his emotions in. Jon felt himself getting angry and he desperately did not want you to think it was at you.

Your green ones stared intently into his bright and tense grey eyes, until Jon sighed deeply. Running his hand along your cheek innocently again before muttering, “Get some sleep, we can discuss this tomorrow when you're feeling better.” Ignoring as you mumbled that you felt fine, as Jon pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Not a second did he get away before you switched moods, reaching out to him the second he moved to get up. “Wait- stay.” Your urgency almost surprised him as well as yourself. “Just...just for now..I don't want you to leave yet..”

Jon knew staying was a risk. If he fell asleep, someone could easily come and find you both like this in the morning. But you were so soft, and your eyes so bright and innocent looking up at Jon that he hated how quickly he gave in. Nodding before pressing one more kiss to your lips. “Only until you fall asleep.”

Turning so you were curled into his chest facing him, Jon couldn't help but decide the risk had to be worth it. Nothing was going to outweigh how perfect it felt to have you fall asleep in his arms. Or, perhaps that was only a confident thought until Jon accidentally let his eyes slip closed. And falling asleep right with you.

If the look his father gave him, when he noticed Jon sneaking into his own room so early in the morning that the sun was barley in the sky, had said anything? Jon was at least glad he stopped himself before he took the previous night any further with you. Otherwise the innocent guilt of being noticed sneaking around would have been a lot more obvious what he was sneaking away from, had Jon taken your body the way you had told him too.

Jon knew he wasn't supposed to be with you anywhere near this way, but if you were both going to keep this between you, Jon had to step up. He had to be the one to ensure he protected your innocence, even against himself.

Unbeknownst to him, Jon was lucky his father trusted him as much as he did. Ned was aware that if there was only one thing he could be sure of, is was that there was no chance Jon would so recklessly take your maidenhead, and certainly not like that. When he could tell the signs that his sneaking son so early in the morning, had clearly been drinking the night before. Meaning you had been as well.

He knew he was better then that, so he said not a word but a nod to him, despite the wide eyed, confused, and nervous look he got from Jon in return before they parted ways. But after that, Ned silently and closely paid attention. He watched yours and Jon's affection grow closer, and it became clear there were more then just feelings. There was something there that you and Jon were trying to hide from everyone but each other. But Ned knew that you made his son happy, and his son made you happy.

He had thought, maybe that would be enough.

Ned had always come to the godswood after taking a life. He would sit on the moss covered wood and stone in the still warmth of summer, taking every care of Ice as he contemplated the truth of what he always had to do. The lad, Will, he was the fourth deserter just that year. Something kept driving them to run from the Wall, and according to Benjen more rangers would disappear in increasing numbers these past years. He hadn't slept well the night before thinking over it.

What the ranger said too, it kept him up far longer then he would admit to his wife. So he had come here to think in the quiet of the old gods. The last he had seen of his children they were spending time in the kitchens, the younger ones all debating what to name their wolf pups. Another strangeness he thought not what to make of it.

His first choice was only out of survival, so young they stood not a chance in the wild alone. He didn't like hearing the innocent plea of his son, but it was cruel to leave them out to die when a quick one would spare the kind of things that ended their mother. An argument had almost started over it, Robb and Theon grating their tones at one another over the decision, Bran begging for it against Neds firm choice of their fates.

Very likely, anything else said he wouldn't have heard more of it. But it was how unusual it sounded coming from his sons mouth. It wasn't the first time Jon had chosen to be purposely formal about his position, but it never felt normal to hear “Lord Stark,” it was uncomfortable and he knew why. Had any of his other sons suggested it he might not have considered. But he knew what Jon had done.

Jon had willingly counted himself as not one of the Stark children in order to convince him that they were meant to have the wolf pups. Had that been Bran or Robb's argument he wouldn't have heard it, but it was the sacrifice Jon made on his own that stood out to him. So he let his sons bring them home, only to quickly notice that Jon had returned to the horses with a sixth. A small, but bright white one with large blood red eyes that reminded him of the colours of the Weirwood he now sat under.

It was interesting he had thought, that it was that blood red eyed wolf pup that could see perfectly, while the others were still just as young and still blind. It was odd it was only that one.

But, whatever of the wolves and words spoken of the North that found plagued his mind, was nothing against the words which followed in the air. Catelyn had come to him, she never liked the godswood of Winterfell. Born under the Light of the Seven just as all southerners were, Ned had the small sept here built for her when he finally brought her up to the North. He knew some news must have occurred to bring her in a place she little liked to disturb.

“All these years and I still feel like an outsider when I come here.”

Smiling at his wife, he easily dismissed such notions. “You're not an outsider, you have five Northern children.” Going back and forth about their gods, and he always found himself thankful they could speak with such ease over the differences still between them. But it didn't stay easy for long.

A raven scroll sat in her hands as she looked up with a genuine sorrow. “I am so sorry, my love.” What tragedy came with such news, ended up being nothing against the mysteries that had wrapped itself around it, prompting her to continue. “There was a raven from Kings Landing. Jon Arryn is dead. A fever took him.”

If Ned's grief could go back in time, he would have wished for himself to be thankful that the man had not lived to suffer, as it felt all of them did in what became Ned's final days. The pain was shaking as he sat in the godswood, but there was little he knew what to do with it or how to feel. Trying to push it down, but his wife always saw him perfectly, gently finding her words once more, “I know he was like a father to you.”

Only, it wasn't the end. It was the beginning of an end for himself, but the start of a nightmare he had not recalled so vividly and fearfully coming soon onto twenty five years.

“The raven brought more news. The King rides for Winterfell. With the queen and all the rest of them.”

Ned said it just as it came into his mind, neither of them needed to say it out loud so specifically to understand. “If he's coming this far North, there's only one thing he's after.” More then two decades had passed, Ned knew it wasn't a reasonable worry to think Robert would find out now. But it still scared him.

That boy was his son, for every single way it mattered to Ned that was his son, but it still scared him. It sacred him despite knowing that wasn't any that might in his eyes, face, looks, nothing. He was more of a Stark then any of them in every way. It was an awful thought, but he hoped Robert by now had long forgotten what she looked like. And maybe, he'd be able to see none of her in him. Beacuse one look at his son, and he could see every part of his looks, his son had gotten entirely from her.

Had she been here, they could've stood side by side now, and looked identical.

But once more, the gods loved their cruel jokes. Catelyn now sat next to him, gave a look to the side of her. “There is one more thing.” Much to Neds surprise, your name came from her mouth. “She will be riding with them to Winterfell. Her father has left the capital for an unknown amount of time and she is to return to serve in his place on the council when they leave here.” Ned had a distinct feeling Catelyn wasn't merely making small talk. “But that isn't all. The King himself has ordered her to do one thing while she is still in Winterfell.”

As it turned out he realized, you and Jon making each other happy, wouldn't be enough any longer.

Robb Stark knew many in arranged marriages never even saw each other for the first time until their wedding day, only found out then if their betrothed was someone they could even stand to look at or talk too. So, in such a way, Robb knew he was lucky. He had known you since he was ten, and he was as close with you as any that entire time.

But neither of you thought this was coming. If Robb knew you well, the moment he was likely to be alone with you for the first time, you would begin to apologize as if it was your fault this was decided for you. He would have to shut that down and fast. You'd spiral if Robb let you.

It had been along time since he had ever thought of you in such a way, he was still a boy when he once had a crush on you. But much like many experienced, it was fleeting and he found more solace in your friendship then worrying about anything further. That further was now though. Or, if timings were correct, a fortnight from now.

Robb would retire to his chambers at night and would find it such an odd image to think only in one more fortnight passed, it would be yours to share. The room, his space, his life and his bed. Being a boy of fourteen with a crush was one thing, it was another for ten years later to be told he only had one month to prepare to share everything of his life and himself with you. Marrying you wasn't the worst part of it, it was getting over how sudden and new it was going to all be.

He had smirked to himself one night with almost a passing huff of a laugh, thinking about how nervous you inevitably would be about kissing him at the wedding. Perhaps if you didn't have to do so in front of the royal company you traveled with, it would be much easier to do so in front of the family you spent half your life around.

Though, royal company or not, there was one who it wouldn't be easy on no matter what. They only had to watch, but Robb had spent the past weeks growing increasingly guilty about becoming comfortable with marrying you, as his brother had spent growing angrier and brooding without ever telling anyone it was because of the same thing.

Jon Snow had spent the past weeks in a terrible mood, because Robb was marrying you.

He had spent a good amount of time trying to figure it out, what was going on in his brothers head but it wasn't until their father and Robb's mother had told all of them what the situation coming their way was. If two bits of news weren't enough, it was the third that caused him to realize it. Every single one of his siblings all had their own reactions to learning the King was ordering you to and Robb to marry, but it was Jon who had none.

There wasn't a single readable reaction on his face, and Robb knew too well how bad that was.

In truth, it didn't occur to Robb as a shock or even surprise. Jon never had a relationship of any sorts, and the only girl he spent any meaningful time around outside his family, was you. Robb was close with you, but he knew Jon was closer. And it only made sense eventually Jon would start seeing you in a different light.

His brother didn't really have a type, but the only one that made sense was his type being you. Robb didn't know if there was more to Jons feelings, if there was anything romantic he felt towards you, or even how long Jon had been looking at you in that way, but it was clear as day.

Jon wanted you, but Robb would now be the one to have you.

Not that he blamed him. Robb had his turn with a crush on you as a boy, and now that you were Jons best friend and had grown up to be gorgeous, at least in Robb's view, spending so much time alone with you finally had an effect on Jons brooding, stubborn heart. And yet he spent as much energy as he could, trying to ease Robbs nerves about marrying so suddenly.

The closer the royal company came to arriving, the worse Robb watched Jon feel. He couldn't even be sure Jon had kissed a girl before, but he certainly wanted to fuck one, wanted to fuck you. But he knew the reaction if Robb ever confronted him about it. Jon would shut down and never even come close to talking about it or you again.

So he had to act natural. Pretend as if he was none the wiser of his brothers deep want of Robbs soon to be wife. He had to act normal when Theon would turn the conversation to the coming inevitable during the wedding, and balance that act of being modest yet interested in what all of them knew was a very pretty girl. And also contrast it with not wanting it to feel like that fact was being rubbed in Jons face without giving away that he knows.

Maybe Robb thought, it would've been easier for Jon to handle if he had just taken the risk and fucked you during your last visit. Get it out of his system. He knew the opportunity was there. Their father and Robb's mother had taken the Stark children out of the castle for the day. Much of their main guard came with them, as did Theon naturally being their fathers ward.

You were moreso at that point a ward serving Winterfell as a whole, and Robb knew his father trusted that between you and Jon, things would get done without question. Their father always trusted Jon with as much in leadership, if not more then Robb himself sometimes. Considering by late night when they had arrived back, everything was in perfect order, clearly you both had spent the entire day doing just those duties.

Robb now and then, though then it was only a growing suspicion, couldn't help but think, it would have been so much easier on Jon, had he seized the opportunity of being alone in the castle, and taken you to bed. Jon was brooding, and intense and rough sometimes.

But even if no feelings were there, Jon very clearly adored you. He was brighter and smiled more when you were in Winterfell and you both always found your spare time with the other most often. It wasn't like his brother would have given you a miserable time, Jon loved doing things for you as it was.

Robb knew that was certainly the opposite between them. Jon would very likely have taken being the one to have your maidenhead very gentle and seriously, not letting you leave until he was certain you enjoyed yourself. Robb however, knew he was going to struggle to be easy and gentle come your wedding night. He also couldn't stop the thoughts of just what he wanted to do, what he wanted to explore with what was his soon to be, pretty little wife.

He hadn't been with a woman in years by then, but still. Women didn't come to Robb Stark for a gentle love making, they came to get fucked. He wouldn't have minded either. He didn't care if his wife wasn't a maiden on their wedding, certainly you. To any other husband you would have been married off, to had the Queen been given her way when you were a girl of fourteen, Robb knew you being a maiden would've mattered. But he didn't care.

If his brother of all people was the one to fuck you before Robb, that was the only one he'd trust.

But instead, Jon was a gentleman as always with you. The one opportunity he would have had to pull you into bed with him, and Jon didn't take it. Part in due because he was nothing but entirely respectable towards you and what all three men knew was your endearing innocence, but also because he was a bastard, and you were the Kings niece.

Inside the castle walls, their father wanted Jon to be treated no different then the rest of his siblings but everyone knew it wasn't like that in the outside world. Bastards were simply treated differently, and it wouldn't stand out in a good way to so blatantly show such treatment to Jon when many places in the North didn't treat their bastards as such. And he knew that too well, and never let himself get too complacent.

You had joked to Robb once that maybe he should've been born on Bear Island. It was a long standing rumor that the Lady of Bear Island, Maege Mormont, had all five of her girls from different fathers. She had never married, and her second eldest daughter Alysanne was unmarried with two children of her own as well. And they all bore the name Mormont and no one ever questioned that about them.

You had said in a quiet but what Robb knew was a very serious tone, that it would have fixed a lot of Jons personal struggles if the rest of the world outside the castle walls didn't treat him like a bastard the way most in here didn't. Though, you did also add amusingly, “Perhaps the lack of such loud, rowdy, Northern men has something to do with such tolerance amongst the Mormonts.”

Robb had been helping you with something in the storage by the stables, and he recalled Ser Harwin trying not to laugh as Robb grinned. Grabbing you by the hips and almost hauling you up and over to where a basin of fresh water sat. “If we're so rowdy, my lady, best not insult us in case we won't tolerate that little attitude.”

There wasn't any changing things now. You were about to be Robbs wife, and none of you could go back. Robb just wished Jon weren't so bloody selfless about you. But then, word had come to Winterfell that the next mid morning was when the Kings company would arrive and it was only a matter of time before Robb and Jon both would have to accept their fates.

As it stood, Catelyn had told all three of them, him, Jon and Theon that they were to at least look respectable for the King. Sending them off to Tommy to get cleaned up. Facial hair clean shaven, and hair nice and freshly cut. She said it was for the King, but all of them doubted that. Jon was the first to speak up, “Why's your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the King?”

Theon, who was waiting to go last had that answer. And both wolves did a good job at not letting either of them have a real reaction as your name came from his mouth. “It's for her I bet.” Gesturing towards Robb, “And if you have to look all nice fancy for your betrothed, then so do we apparently.”

“Not like she'd care.” Both eyes directed up towards Jon who was stood opposite of where Robb was being tended to first. “We spent half her life roughing her up in the training yard, looking nice for one day won't change any of that.” Jon was doing a better job at appearing neutral these days.

Theon replying, “I'll wager the Queen will spend half the morning tomorrow trying to doll her up. Might get to see what a royal girl is supposed to look like on her for once.” Robb had passively asked with jest if he'd been thinking of that a lot. Theon's face falling amusingly flat. “You assume I'm thinking of her, when we got the Queen coming our way. I hear she's a sleek bit of mink.”

Robb not bothering to entertain that conversation, “I hear the Prince is a right, royal prick.”

Theon had joked about all the southern girls he'd get though, and Robb still noticed it. Even with the change in subject, Jon was silent. But it wouldn't change. You'd arrive tomorrow morning, and in some week time, Robb would be the one to marry you before the Weirwood.

He wasn't going to make it worse for his brother, by treating him as if he knew any different. If Jon hadn't said anything by now, clearly, he didn't want Robb to know anything. And he respected that, so instead, as he stood, Robb did what he knew best. Just play normal. Smacking Jon as he shoved him passed to switch positions with a playfulness on his voice, speaking the opposite of the truth.

“Go on, Tommy, shear him good. He’s never met a girl he likes better than his own hair.”

Neither of you were sure when this idea even came about, or if either one of you had actually said it in the open air. It was just felt in the backs of your mind as you both sat there, where this day was leading ultimately. What would it's end result in and what happened from there.

It started off as a strange feeling as normal as it felt. You and Jon rarely spent time alone so freely, but both of you sat in the quiet to eat. Being able to take your time, joke and laugh freely not worrying too much about what to do or say. It wasn't often you got to see Jon smile and laugh so easily and it made you feel just a bit warmer on the inside whenever it was from something you said.

Jon also, had never looked so freely bright and adoring at you out in the open before. The workers and guard around the castle didn't pay much notice to it, not much to pay attention close too. Most of the Starks gone for the day, leaving behind Lord Stark's younger ward and his bastard son. Eyes didn't pry as much. It certainly made Jon a little more playfully bold.

You had been at that point picking mindlessly at the food in front of you, mostly taking advantage of the fantasy of having a normal meal as if you two were a normal, domestic couple. Speaking candidly through bites, “I could almost swear he did it just to make me uncomfortable.”

Jon's brows narrowed as he leaned forward across the other side of the table from you, “He never tried anything did he?”

In truth you almost laughed, shaking your head instead. “Petyr Baelish is a smarmy little weasel, but isn't stupid. He doesn't just do whatever he wants, he had to be clever about it. And for me, what he wants is just to enjoy making me stand there and discuss budgetary matters, while he moonlights as the capitals favourite whoremonger.” Your eye roll came with a sigh, and Jons shoulders relaxed noticeably.

Tilting his head a bit, you knew the look in his eye was genuine as was the softness in his tone. Perhaps if you were speaking of here in Winterfell, that advice would work. “You should tell someone, you sit on the council like him. He shouldn't get to treat you like that.”

But the doubt in your eyes came as strong as your tone was flat. “And say what? That I'm being forced to sit in a building full of naked women for free? I'd be laughed out of the small council chamber before I even finish that sentence.” Jon shook his head almost too himself, when you let your forearms rest crossed on the wooden table as your voice softened. “It's only annoying. Not upsetting, you don't have to get protective about everything,”

Your foot moved to gently nudge what of his leg you could reach when Jon sent his hand down to grab at your foot, pulling you closer to the table as he let your foot rest on his lap. Your boots just short enough that with one of his hands resting visibly on the table, the other gently pushed just enough of the skirt of your dress up, that he could run his hand mindlessly over your shin and calf.

Jon said nothing about how flustered his touch was making you, speaking to you like normal save for the mischievous glint in his eye. “You look like you want to say something.” He knew you too well, as soon as you went to lightly kick him, Jon grabbed your shin firmly and tugged you back into place, his grin growing easy as your face twisted in an exaggerated offence.

Your voice a accusing jest with narrowed eyes, “Aren't you just the funniest man to ever walk these halls, Snow.”

Jon only smirked, nodded at your plate with as much mocking disapproval of your tone. “Finish your food, Baratheon. We have work to do.”

Nothing about the average course of the day stood out, it was easy to get things done in between Jon being able to more freely enjoy your company with whatever you both had to do. You laughed a little more easily, Jon teased you a little more purposely, and yet you both were ignoring the inevitable of what was being led too.

For six years this little romance had been brewing in secret, and in those six years it had taken a long time to get to here. Sure, technically you were gone for months in between but for many couples Jon would have assumed that distance would've made both parties even more eager to push things faster and quicker. Not to say the pair of you were terribly slow, no, you both went at the same pace.

Jon had no more experience then you did, and you knew a lot less about a physical relationship then even he did. He was certain there was very little you were likely even aware that there was to try, and the only thing you came to him with on your own wasn't your idea. Just what you heard the girls who hung around the Winter Town brothel would speak of, and assumed it was something you were supposed to be doing.

It had taken perhaps, a little bit longer to get to this point because Jon didn't want to rush you into anything. You clearly had a not very fair view of what was expected of you as a woman in terms of sex, and it took those first couple of years with the other to gently teach you that you were supposed to enjoy each other, and nothing more. You always did things for others, and Jon knew you assumed that this was just another one of those things.

Neither of you had even done very much in reality, not compared to what you could have been doing with the other. But somehow, you both landed on this. That maybe this opportunity was for the act that mattered the most. You were returning to Kings Landing not long after that day, and you both had decided it was the right time.

Jon had spent a lot of time thinking about it, how to do it, what would be the most comfortable for you and by that late afternoon he had gone through the plans in his head more times then he could count as he made his way to his own chambers. First plan being to make sure everything was as organized as possible, make sure it was warm enough before going to go get you.

But you instead, had apparently decided to make that step for him. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you sitting at the edge of his bed. Your hands wrung together in your lap clearly trying to not appear as nervous as Jon could tell you were. Realistically he knew no one else was around, but he found himself checking the hall behind him regardless before closing the door.

Something a little more easily playful on his tongue couldn't get spoken faster then your rigid explanation, trying to appear as calm with a little shrug. “I figured it would be more simple if I were already here, rather then you having to come fetch me and we then would have to walk over and pretend as it everything was normal.”

Nodding gently, Jon paced in slowly as if not wanting to startle you. His eyes narrowing a bit in thought as he tried to gauge just what your nerves were settled at. “How long have you been waiting?”

You shrugged, trying to appear normal as if Jon couldn't read you like a book. Glancing away as you glanced around his room to nothing, “Long enough I almost talked myself out of it again.” Jon repeated the word again as the came to stand somewhat in front of you, a good few feet away to give you space to think. “I only meant, I won't particularly know what I'm doing so maybe you wouldn't..”

Only a few paces of footsteps rung out before Jon stood in front of you. One hand held out, your head tilting up to the bright, genuine shine in his eyes. As soon as you grabbed one, he pulled you up with the other, letting you rest your hands where you were comfortable, as he gently held you by your upper arms. Leaning down to softly rasp, “I don't need you to know what you're doing, I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Jon waited for you to nod, normally he'd want to hear you say it, but he could feel the nerves flooding your veins from where he stood. Letting a hand run over your hair before tilting you head back up to his eyes when it dropped, your voice was low when you finally spoke. If you weren't so nervous, Jon would have smiled at how formally you tried to approach it. “How do we start?”

The smile slipped in just as he leaned down to brush against your lips, one chaste kiss before mumbling against them. “However we like.” Slowly, as he captured your lips again, Jon felt your hands slowly follow up his chest to wrap gently around the back of his neck as he held you close at your waist.

His kiss was gentle, coaxing you to ease into things without rushing how deep he pushed you, if anything going slower then he normally would. One hand leaving your waist, he raked it tenderly through your hair before cupping the back of your head to keep your lips close against his strength over you. Your fingers slowly making their way through his curls in return.

Leaving you with little breathe left, Jon barley pulled from your lips. Almost moving in closer to you if you tried pulling back for air, making your hands tighten in his hair that much more. Gently running his tongue along your bottom lip, did you part ways for him to slip in, brush against yours as something like a moan tried getting pushed down in your chest.

Guiding you to move along with him, you started to relax in his touch. Just what he wanted, make you nice and calm for anything else. None of this would be good if you were tense, and Jon lived for the high pitch sounds you would gasp into his mouth. Deepening and licking into your mouth Jon let the hand on your waist move, grasping the light shall still partially around you, pulling it to the side and letting it drop to the ground.

Grinning into the kiss at your slight shiver in the cold air of his room, you wrapped your arms around him even more to seek his natural warmth. Once more now both his hands moving to slide along your waist down to your hips, running flat up and down at the soft material without ever committing to grasping it.

Just as your hands tightened again, it almost was enough to pull at his curls, causing a sound akin to a growl to leave Jon. Pulling from your lips, he kissed down to your jaw and along your neck. His cock stired at both that feeling and the high pitched gasp you were barley able to hide leaving you. His teeth scraping against the skin without breaking it, as his greed grew stronger.

Moving down and down your neck he reached your collarbones before he looked up, standing back at full height to tilt your head up to him while the other hand traced along just the very side of your breasts. “We can keep most of it on if you want, but I'd like to see you. All of you.” Swallowing nervously, he kissed you once before running his nose along yours. “It's up to you, we're not doing anything you don't want.”

Your hands dropped to his shoulders, digging into the leather as you thought for a moment before letting a bit of bravery through. “Could we..” Glancing down at him, Jon kissed you once more.

“I'll take some of it off, but I want you to do the rest of it, when you're ready.” Nodding a bit more eagerly, Jon stepped back. Pulling off his tunic, outer layers until just the soft material was left, easy to take off when you wanted to. As he took a step forward once more, his hands ran up your arms and to your shoulders. Toying with the fabric with a question in his eye, waiting for you to nod.

Ever so slowly, he started to run them down to your front. Waiting for one more nod when he stopped at the clasps of your dress before undoing them. Letting each go slow, your breathing increased despite trying to hide it. As it fell open, the dark shift sat underneath short on your legs. Restraining himself despite the way he inhaled deeply through his nose. He had seen parts of you, not all of you, not like you were about to let him.

Finally, he pushed the rest of the dress off as it landed on the ground by your feet. Both your gazes looking down, Jon smiled once more. “Sit for me,” Your eyebrow raised but he gave a playful shove to make you move back.

Innocent as he took your boots off, hand sliding up from your ankle to your calf as he looked up at you with bright eyes. He didn't move any further from there, just massaging the muscle almost until he felt you relaxing again and then guiding you to stand, now a bit shorter against him. Rasping lowly, “Can we take the rest of this off you now, or do you want to wait?”

Your face twisted in thought for a moment, before much more confidently shaking your head. Hands no longer tense on him, and a trust shining in your eyes as you leaned up to kiss him. Your touch now running across his facial hair at his jaw until Jon nibbled at your lips again to pull away. That time, there was no hesitation as he pulled the thin straps of your shift down your shoulders before pushing the material enough it fell off you entirely.

Eyes growing more needing and black as he looked down at you, Jon told himself to wait. One last thing, stepping forward he grasped your underwear with a hand on each side grasping as he kissed you a little bit rougher, a little more greedy as he just pulled them right down your legs. Grabbing your hips to prompt you to step out of them before Jon blindly kicked at everything by your feet.

Instead though, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his front as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Letting him deepen and bite at your lips while his other hand felt along your bare waist and hip. Other then the crackle of the fire, all that could be heard was how desperately he kissed you. Taking every sound you gifted him before tearing himself away from your lips, hands at your hips as you both gasped for air did he finally look you over.

There was no denying how unbelievably hard he was. Jon thought to himself, he was a fool for ever thinking you'd look like anything but exactly this. You were perfect to him, soft and plush in all the most unbearable ways that made his blood run hot. He was so glad he hadn't seen you like this before, he might not have been so noble about keeping you innocent if he knew you looked like that under those beautiful dresses.

Not a thing about the lustful awe Jon's eyes gazed over you was honorable. Part of him wanted to pick you up and throw you onto his bed then and there, but he knew you felt self conscious at how long he'd been so silent for. Finding your eyes, his own lips a bit parted as he struggled to find a more innocent compliment, instead he chose to pull your chin up, and press his lips back to yours for something much more slow and deep. “You...you are..”

Still struggling to find words, Jon did better with action. But you tried filling in the blanks with nothing even close to how worked up he was feeling. “Am- is it alright?” Brows narrowing he looked at you a bit confused and you shrugged. Your hands sat uselessly at at his shoulders. “I know it's..other girls are more impressive then this..especially when I'm, you know..standing here having to compare to you.”

Shaking his head, he pulled you into his front a little more, hands addicted to running along your bare frame. “And what's that supposed to mean exactly?”

Drifting down to his chest and down along his stomach, your fingertips pressed into the defined muscle there with a mumble. “I mean, I have eyes Jon. You're all muscle and I'm...not...”

Eyes finding yours, he barley managed to rasp out, “Your softness is everything I dream about, I promise.” Before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a firmer kiss. That time his restraint snapped just a bit as he finally crowded you enough before pressed you against the furs of his bed. Hands guiding you to the middle as he climbed over you as he ran his tongue along yours with nowhere now for you to go but to be at his kiss's mercy.

You moaned deeply against him, causing Jon to pull up and off you, kneeling in between your slightly spread legs for him. He wanted to control himself, but gods be good you made it so difficult. Hands grasping at your thighs as he almost closed his eyes to will his heart to calm down but you knew where his eyes black now, were staring.

Everything Jon found got better and better, and as he could see what you willingly let him look at between your legs, his cock ached. He had wanted to know what being inside you felt like for so long, he dreamt about it on his worst nights. But here, able to see too the wetness, where he'd so easily be able to slide inside you, he inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes. He wanted to take care of you, not rough you up because of his own cock.

One step at a time. Looking back, he focused on your face. Nervous but desperate to hide it. Slowly he took your hands into his, putting them right at the edge of his shirt. “Just start with this.” But even though your hands curled against the fabric, you looked down to them but didn't move. Your own heart raced enough you felt a bit dizzy.

Murmuring your name, you shook your head as if you'd push forward and do it. Reaching over, he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer to press a kiss to your forehead as you whispered with a very quiet but honest vulnerability, “Could we both...”

He'd never seen you so nervous and uncomposed before. Covering your hands with his, only then had Jon noticed they were almost shaking. Steady under his warm touch, he never left your eyes as he helped you pull the fabric of his shirt up and off him. On tossing it nowhere to care as he cupped the back of your neck.

Both of you leaned in that time, and somehow as soon as your hands ran along his bare chest did Jon feel that rush of need. Pushing you down against the furs on his bed, his kiss grew demanding and greedy as you responded eagerly. One thing, only one thing was keeping you from him.

And yet, the second his covered cock ground into your bare, wet core, he felt that feeling. Kissing you rougher he tried to shove it down. Not now. Jon willed himself to not do this, he said he wasn't going to worry about this right now. The more he rutted into you, the more he bit and licked into your mouth and the more sounds you made, the more Jons cock twitched begging to be freed.

But the more he felt that, the more those thoughts returned. His own hands currently groping at your breasts, twisting and pulling at the small buds as he loved and yet his mind wouldn't stop. As soon as the thought hit him, Jon tensed in his whole body.

What if he got you pregnant?

Brows furrowed into the kiss, he tried to ignore it but his mind repeated it and repeated it, and suddenly he had stopped kissing you. Your hand gently pushing against his chest to look up at him, his name so gentle on your lips with worry. “Jon? Are you alright?” He swallowed and tried to regain his breathe, but the thought spoke again.

What if he got you pregnant?

Your hand cupped his cheek as you tried to sit up a bit. “Do you want to stop?”

No, he wanted this so badly. He had planned this for almost a month, he wanted to be ready. He had to be, you were leaving for Kings Landing soon. He never had wanted anything more then sharing himself with you, sharing both of your first times together. So he shook his head, leaning back into your sweet tasting lips, “No. No, I don't want to stop.” Pushing you back into the fur he was a little less desperate this time.

Get over it, he told himself. Just shut up and get over it.

Your body was so soft and so perfect, you fit against him like you had been made for him. Your lips were so sweet, your sounds so beautiful but then he'd think more. Everyone would hate him. They'd know it was Jon, who else would it be? A beautiful little black haired baby with your eyes but they'd all call your child a Snow and it would be his fault.

Jon wanted to share this with you, he always had. Jon wanted to bed you so badly and yet as he had you bare under him, he struggled to see past how much he'd be ruining your life. Ruining his own child's life. He could be cocky and say it's a rare chance just this once could get you pregnant, but he had no reason to think it wouldn't.

You'd return to Kings Landing and be shamed as soon as everyone found out. They'd call your child a Snow and Jon couldn't handle that. He never wanted that for whatever child he had.

Being a bastard was lonely and miserable, the only reason he could stand it was because of you, but he would be horrible and selfish to force his child to live that way all because Jon was in love with you.

Just maybe, as Jon's hand trailed up your thigh enough he could feel the heat between your legs, it was a blessing in disguise when you pulled from his lips almost in a jolting panic. Stammering with wide eyes when Jon sat up, you clearly started to panic. “I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..”

Brows furrowing, Jon gently ran hands along your hair at the back of your head cupping you gently to stay in place. “Don't be sorry, it's alright.” You shook your head trying to deny that, but Jon leaned in more gentle in his gaze and softness. “Look at me,” Finding his gaze, he could see the slight bit of nerves tinged with the fear of the unknown. “We don't have to to this. We can stop right here.”

You looked away frustrated, no doubt at yourself. “I'm sorry..” Jon went to tell you again to stop apologizing but you continued, clearly trying not to let your eyes water at how much was running through your head. “It's not you or anything..I...” Sighing out you looked back up at him, Jon letting his thumb run along your cheek. “I don't know if I'm ready..for..this part..”

He didn't say it, but in truth, Jon was relived. He couldn't do this with you, when all he was worried about was ruining everything your life could be by getting you pregnant. You and what children you had shouldn't start here, with a bastard. No matter how in love with you he was, how much he always will be.

Murmuring your name, he leaned in no run his nose along yours. “Do you want to know something?” You nodded, as your hands gently ran through his curls almost soothingly. “I don't think I'm ready either.”

It was strange to laugh at that, but you did, and so did Jon. Laughing gently into the other before he pulled you in for a much more innocent, but eager kiss. “We are a mess, aren't we?” Jon laughed a lot more freely at that, his heart growing in his chest at the giggle on your own lips before he captured the sound with a kiss. Running a hand again along your hair, you moved yours at the same time to shift the both of you.

After a little moving, Jon had you laying mostly on your side as he did facing you, his hand running now freely but without greedy intention along your bare side. Your own hands sat at his chest and collarbones, sharing just an innocent kiss for the way you both looked. Your voice was quiet, but a lot less nervous as the minutes passed between you. “You don't have to, but I was wondering..I want to wait for you..and was hoping maybe you would wait for me too?”

Jon just grinned. “I'm not here to rush you, darling. I'll always wait for you.”

You'd both have to get up eventually, but for now, Jon pulled you into his chest. Keeping your bare frame tucked into his warmth. If only for a little while, you both could spare a nap at least. Wrapped up in the others touch and safety.

As Jon kept your head tucked into his chest, he buried his face happily in your hair. Thinking to himself, that he's never wanted anything as much as he wants to just be with you.

He would take all the time in the world to wait until you both were ready, there wasn't and couldn't be a single soul in the world Jon would ever want to give himself too other then you. You were the woman he loved, you were his heart, something that made his lonely, miserable life worth it. Jon was utterly in love with you, and as long as you both had that together?

The rest would come easy, in time.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #game of thrones imagine

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ilguna · 1 year

Text

☼ childhood friends (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; after three years of not talking to Finnick, you get reaped for the Hunger Games, and he decides it's time to apologize for leaving you behind the way he did.

warnings; swearing

wc; 3.6k

–

When you finally became eligible for the Hunger Games five years ago, you accidentally started a nasty habit of wishing to get deathly ill to avoid the reaping. All you want is to get sick enough for the peacekeepers to give you a pass, because if they think that you’ll die before you reach the arena, then they don’t want you. The Capitol wants entertainment, and a sickly tribute is a boring tribute.

The goal is to survive the illness, whatever it may be. Let it take weeks for you to recover, if that’s what has to happen. As long as you don’t die from it, because that’s exactly the problem you’re trying to avoid.

You didn’t live seventeen years of your life only to be reaped and thrown into an area to fight for your life. You made it this far. You have one more year until you’re free from the reaping. Free.

Unfortunately, for the past five years, you’ve woken up as healthy as the day you were born. There’s not a single symptom that you could bend to look malicious. You think that if you end up surviving this year’s reaping, that you’re going to go around licking doorknobs to make sure that you’re sick next year.

You turn to the bathtub full of water that your mom’s been filling for you while you made breakfast. It’s probably not even warm anymore, but you have no choice. She won’t let you go outside unless you’re well-dressed in the chance that you do get selected in the reaping. She won’t have her eldest representing the family badly.

You step into the tub, and pleasantly find that it’s lukewarm. It won’t be this way for long, you have a small window to get yourself cleaned up and hair washed before it turns ice cold. You sink into the tun, letting it warm your skin slightly, and then you get started.

As you scrub your skin with a bar of unscented soap, you stare at the adjacent wall. In the Capitol, you heard that they have running showers. You can turn the knob and have hot water come out immediately, and bathtubs that they can fill with hot water without having to wait over an hour for the water to boil first.

They might have those appliances here somewhere in the district. If you had to guess, you’d say the Justice Building, where the mayor and his family stays, or any of the victor homes in Victor’s Village. Since they won the Hunger Games, it’s nothing but the best for them.

You bet that they forget that the rest of the district doesn’t have the same luxury as they do with the hot water. Even the upper class part of district four doesn’t have showers. The houses were never installed with them—maybe better bathtubs. You can’t imagine how expensive it would be to run that water.

You don’t think you’d leave the bathroom ever again. You’d sit under the water for hours, letting the water hit your face, or the top of your head. You’d close your eyes and imagine the warm rain that you get in the summertime. And you would be able to do that every day until you got sick of it.

Instead, you’re stuck with a bar of soap, and a tub of cooling water. The same water that turned a slight shade of white because of the soap, that you now have to use to wash your hair. You could get your mom to brew you a whole new tub, but you don’t have time for it. She leaves only enough room to get you in and out before the rest of your family gets in.

You turn your head to the side while lowering your hair into the water to get it wet, squeezing it a few times to make sure the water sticks. After that, you reach for the bland bottle of shampoo that smells faintly of strawberries if you smell hard enough. You lather, and then rinse, and when you’re done, you pull the plug on the tub to let it drain while you get dressed.

You dry your body, and start on your hair for a minute. You stop when you realize that it’s going to be a longer process than you expected, and opt for pulling your dress on, being careful not to get it wet. The moment you open the bathroom door, arms full of dirty clothes, heading for your bedroom, your mom is already passing you with the first pot of hot water for your little sister’s bath.

“Drop the clothes in the hallway, I’ll clean them later tonight.” She tells you, eyes landing on your hair, “Do you need help putting your hair up?”

“If you have time, or I can do it myself.” You shrug.

“Grab a chair and take a seat in the kitchen.” She directs your chin upwards, correcting your habit of looking down, “I always have time for you.”

You give her a half-smile, dropping your dirty clothes in the hallway while you head to your room to grab the hair ties and brush. When you look at your clock, you see that there’s only an hour and a half before the reaping. It seems like a lot of time, but with a family of five, it takes so much longer.

You brush your hair while you wait for her to come into the kitchen, several pots are on the stove with the heat turned to high. Your brother sits in the living room, playing with his toys, and your dad is nowhere to be seen. You’re pretty sure he bathed last night to avoid today’s mayhem.

“Sit.” She tells you, you pull out a chair.

She’s gentle when she pulls on your wet hair, used to your younger sister’s whining about rough hands. She’s never been bad about the brush, it’s more of her redoing your hair several times to make sure that it’s absolutely perfect. It’s one of the struggles that come with having to appear as a lower middle class family. They’re always about image, even if you have nothing to show.

Your mom’s side of the family used to be a line of jewelers. She was even raised to appraise precious jewelry. She would buy jewelry at a low price and turn around and sell it higher. It worked out for your grandparents for a while, until your mom asked for a better cut on the profit, since she was the reason why they were making so much.

Her parents denied her, and then shut her out entirely, firing her. By then, your mom had already married your dad, so she had him to fall back on. She watched as her parents started to lose profit, and lost business altogether because they got rid of her. And when they came to her, asking for her charity, she laughed in their faces and told them that they’re dead to her.

You haven’t seen them, not since you were young. From what you remember, they lived in a big house, more bedrooms than they needed. It wasn’t even your mom’s childhood home, she says they sold that and upgraded. They must’ve moved to a different part of the district, because you’ve never accidentally run across them.

Your mom’s always told you that if you need her, then she’ll come running, no matter the situation, no matter the reason. It’s the least she could do because her parents couldn’t step up and give her a little more money for her work. She says that once you turn eighteen, she’ll get you a job at the fabric store she works at, and she’ll make sure that you’re well taken care of.

You know she doesn’t mean to, but sometimes she makes you sad.

“Okay, all done.” She says, “Maybe sit in front of an open window so it dries faster.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grabs your face to press a kiss to your forehead, “Be ready in an hour.”

“I will.” You smile.

You wander back to your room, or rather the room you share with your sister. You prop open the window, and instantly a warm breeze comes through the air. It’s a shame the Hunger Games takes place in the middle of summer. It’s the only time of year you genuinely enjoy, and it’s ruined by the Capitol.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring out the window. One minute turns to ten, and you’re sure that you should get up and get your shoes on, at the very least, but you don’t move. You can’t get your eyes to focus either, no matter how hard you try.

There’s something wrong, you’re not usually this drained before the reaping.

You blink slowly, turning your head away from the window to look at your room. Your mouth screws, and you force yourself up to pull on your shoes. You go back to sitting on your bed when you’re done, playing with a string on your bedsheets.

Your sister comes into the room soon after, already dressed and hair done. She briefly looks at you before getting to her knees to play with her toys. It doesn’t last long until she sets them down and looks at you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You glance at her, and then at the window.

“Oh, well,” She shrugs, “I had a dream last night that you got reaped.”

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Your face twists, finally coming back to life, “Especially not to mom.”

She doesn’t say anything, playing with her dolls. The two of you sit in here for another thirty minutes, before your mom is collecting you to leave. You close the window in the bedroom, and briefly check on the state of your hair in the bathroom. It’s not perfect, you knew it wouldn’t be, but it looks good enough. Your mom nods in approval.

The five of you leave the house, heading to the District Four Justice Building. You’re not the only family heading that way, most of the neighborhood is leaving too, all on foot. Cars are also a luxury for the rich, but even they’re too expensive for the victors.

When you reach the area where you need to sign in, your mom kisses your forehead, and then your dad does too in the same spot. She then reaches over and redirects your chin upwards, “With beauty and grace, (Y/n).”

“I know. I’ll see you guys in a little bit.” You smile.

Your sister is barely eligible for the games this year, she’s just turned twelve. You watch as your parents repeat the process with her. Your brother’s got another three years before it’s his turn to experience the reaping. You hold your hand out for your sister to take to guide her through the process.

You get signed in first, and then wait nearby to watch her first time with a reaping day peacekeeper. They pass her easily, and she hurries to stick close. Inside the fenced area are hundreds of girls and boys, all varying in age. You bring her to the back, where the twelve section is.

“I’ll see you right after, okay?” You fix her hair.

“Okay.” She agrees.

You move down the aisle to the front, where the other seventeen year old girls are gathering. It’s fairly empty up here, allowing you to pick a spot without blocking anyone else’s view. You’re not sure if they’d mind anyway. When you were younger, you’d use the older teenagers to block the stage’s view of you, afraid of them picking you just because they felt like it.

You let out a breath, and raise your head.

Most of the chairs on the stage are filled by the regular occupants, like the mayor, and your Capitol escort. In the other chairs sit the victor’s that District Four has had over the past sixty-seven years, there’s four of them.

Mags Flanagan, she’s the oldest victor up there because she’s the first victor of District Four. To the right of her sits Muscida, another female victor, she’s younger than Mags by a good twenty years. The next in line is Librae, she’s in her thirties. And the very last and recent victor is the only male that Four has had so far, and that’s Finnick Odair.

He broke the record for the youngest victor, previously it was fifteen, but he set it at fourteen. It’s going to be an impossible record to beat, since every thirteen year old that goes inside of an arena is dead within the first to third day. They never last past the first week.

Finnick’s the same age as you are. You used to be really good friends with him, since his family lived in the same neighborhood as you, and you went to the same school together. After he won, they all moved into Victor’s Village, and you never really had the same friendship as you did before.

You tried to be normal, for his sake. At school, you saw how everyone else was treating him and figured that he’d want things to go back to normal. You could see past his arena-self, considering he did what he had to in order to survive. You guess that he couldn’t handle it anyway, because eventually the two of you stopped talking, and then he stopped coming to school in general.

Despite now living in two different areas of District Four, you still manage to see him every year at the reaping. You can’t imagine what it’s like mentoring, especially since he had no choice when it comes to the job. The district requires one male and one female mentor. You think you’d go insane.

Briefly, Finnick looks up, and manages to catch your eyes. They’re gone in the same second.

Right as the big clock hits ten thirty, the mayor steps up to the podium to start giving the Dark Days speech. After hearing it so many times, you’re sure that you could recite this in your sleep without missing a beat. It’s the same speech, nothing changes to the script. You’re forced to stand here and listen to him drone about it.

And when he’s done, the Capitol escort steps up to the microphone. She’s dressed in bright colors, and has a wide grin on her face. You guys have had her for the past two years, you think you preferred the man before her. He was less peppy and seemed to realize the monstrosity he was committing by selecting children to fight to kill each other.

“Happy Hunger Games!” Her accent gives you a headache, “And may the odds be ever in your favor. We’ll start with ladies first.”

She wanders over to the girls’ glass bowl with thousands of slips inside of it. Only five of them should have your name on it. You suck in a breath between your teeth, holding it while she picks a slip from the middle. She holds it up in the air, a folded piece of white paper held shut by black tape. She then moves over to the microphone, shimmying her shoulders in excitement as she unfolds the paper.

She takes in a breath, a smile overcoming her face, “(Y/n) (L/n).”

You can feel the air leave your lungs, lips parting as you struggle to intake air. Somewhere out there behind the rope, you think you can hear your mother’s anguished scream. Several heads swivel to find you, hands balled into tight fists to distract from the jelly feeling in your legs.

Move.

You step out of the seventeen section and into the aisle, where the peacekeepers immediately come to your side to guide you to the stage. You press your lips together, head falling to look at your shoes, when you’re suddenly reminded of her gesture. You raise your chin and start down the path, trying to appear brave.

The Capitol escort’s got this smirk on her face, you look away from her and to the stairs, which feel almost impossible to take. One at a time, you’re raised until you’re on the same level as they are. She guides you next to the microphone, and you plant your feet there, eyes wide as you stare off into the crowd. A large sea of bodies, too many to fit in the square, so they fill the streets and alleyways nearby.

You take in deep breaths through your nose to contain the tears that want to take over your body. You don’t even realize she’s called the boy's name until she’s demanding that you two shake hands. You turn, and find a boy from the sixteen section. His hands are wet when you touch them, and he looks like he’s going to puke.

The Panem anthem then plays, and as soon as it’s finished, you’re pushed to go inside of the Justice Building. They bring you to a vacant room, where you’re left to pace and wait for your family to come. You only had one more year of this until you were free, you just had to get reaped at seventeen.

The door swings open, and in comes your family, your mother rushing to hold you tightly. She squeezes the air out of you, letting out a quiet sob, “Why didn’t you tell me that your sister had a dream that you’d be reaped?”

“Because you’d react this way.” You murmur, hugging her back. Your dad comes over to stroke your hair. “It’s okay, mom.”

“You must be good.” She says, pulling away to hold your face, “You must show them that you’re wonderful. You can do that.”

“I can, because I learned from you.” You agree, “It’ll be alright.”

Your brother and sister wander over, both of them with tears in their eyes. You hug them tightly, promising that you’ll be home soon. The peacekeepers come back, telling you that your time with your family is up. Your mom insists on pressing a kiss to your forehead, the same with your dad, before they leave.

“You��ll be good.” She tells you, “Tell me that you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good, mom.”

It’s a few minutes before they take you and bring you to a car to transport you to the train station quickly. You chew on the inside of your cheek while staring at the window, continuing to take breaths to calm yourself. The station is crowded with reporters when you get there. You avoid the cameras and head inside of the train, where the doors shut behind you, and the train begins to move.

You let out the breath of air that you’ve been holding.

“Congratulations!” The escort says, you eye her warily.

“On what?” Your counterpart asks, “On our death sentence?”

A frown comes over the escort’s face. You can hear a familiar laugh, and he shows himself a second later. Finnick’s got this smirk on his face, “What did I tell you about congratulating the tributes? It’s insulting.”

“Regardless of what you think,” she suddenly hisses, “It’s required of me to do.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “Right. Why don’t you take Landon to his room?”

She presses her lips together, “Fine, let’s go you two—”

“No, I need a second with (Y/n). We need to talk.”

The way Finnick speaks is so much different from what you remember. He was never this direct with people, he had a tendency to beat around the bush to avoid hurting feels. It has something to do with the confrontation aspect of it, and he never wanted the drama of having a rivalry.

Now he seems like he doesn’t care. He stares at the escort, waiting for her to object, but she must think that it’s not worth it, because all she does is shake her head at him before leading Landon off.

He turns to you with a toothy smile, “I’m going to pay for that later.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” You laugh.

Without saying it out loud, the two of you gravitate for a hug at the same time. You squeeze him tightly, letting out a slight laugh. The last time you talked to him was three years ago. So much can change in such a short amount of time. You probably don’t even know him anymore.

“I just wanna say I’m sorry.” He begins, pulling away, “After the games—”

“I don’t blame you, Finnick. How can I?”

“I don’t know, we were close. We grew up together, I thought you’d be angrier.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I tried with the whole school thing, but no one treated me normally except for you. And I thought it would be enough but there was that one week where you got sick and I had to do it all alone. I couldn’t, I didn’t even make it through the week.”

“I know. You did what you had to do. And you seem to be doing better now than you were before, right?”

He nods, eyes falling to the carpet flooring, “Yeah, something like that. It sucks that it took you getting reaped for me to say something.”

“I’m happy you’re talking to me at all.” You tilt your head, “If you wanna make up for it, though, you’ll make sure that I’m set up to win.”

Finnick’s eyes meet yours, a mischievous grin crossing his face, “Oh, you have no idea the wonders I can work for you.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #thg #the hunger games #requested #fluff

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

“You need to leave.”

The glare the physician levels at him is slower than usual. He takes a moment to process the stiff words Nico directs at him, blinking several times — his normally clear blue eyes look almost cloudy — before huffing and rolling his eyes.

“This is not your House, Your Highness. And further it is not your infirmary. The only one with authority to order someone out would be me.”

Now Nico is the one glaring. That is a lie, and a bold one. He could name at least a dozen people who could order Will out of the infirmary, and he says as much, thankful he wore his heeled boots today so he has an extra inch of height on Will today with which he can stare down his nose disdainfully.

“Feel free to call them, then, Your Highness,” says Will irritably, “but in the meantime, get out.”

The doctor is swaying on his feet. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his hands shake. His normally full, glossy hair is limp and lifeless. He’s as grey as the stone floors. It takes him four full seconds — Nico counts — to react to the retching of one of the dozens of bedridden, green-faced patients, and another four seconds to will himself to move towards them. He doesn’t even bother looking back at Nico before he turns, let alone bowing or even ordering him out one last time. On his fourth step, he stumbles, barely managing to catch himself before sprawling on the ground. His feet drag with every step.

Nico turns around and walks out.

———

“My Lord — a word?”

Immediately after asking, Nico begins to spiral. He is not sure, still, what his place is in House Apollo. He has asked for asylum — Lord Apollo has granted it. Graciously, even, perhaps also fielding tensions from his father. He has provided for Nico suites for high ranks, preserving his title despite his asylum, and seems, on the whole, to be a rather laidback man.

But Nico has read his history books, and has studied politics his whole life. He knows the danger that can rest behind the King’s eyes, know to what extent he is capable. Knows how his pride drives him and offense makes him deadly.

To Nico’s great relief and in credit to the gods, the King only smiles brightly.

“My Prince!” he greets, clapping Nico’s shoulder enthusiastically (so much so that Nico would be sent sprawling, if he had not begun to accustom himself to the…enthusiasm, of House Apollo as a whole). “Please, come sit with me, no need for excessive formality.”

Nico inclines his head, taking the chair to Apollo’s left — he would never dare the right, aware enough to be wary of the implications. As soon as he sits, though, the carefully-practiced script he planned vanishes from his mind, and the minutes stretch, silent and uncomfortable.

“Your physician overworks himself.”

He blurts it just as Apollo opens his mouth, and then immediately wants to crawl under the table. He is thankful, not for the first time, for the length of his hair, knowing it hides his flaming ears.

What a foolish thing to say! Apollo must think he has no decorum.

Luckily, Apollo only laughs; a great, loud sound, one Nico can only describe as merry.

“Who, William? You needn’t worry yourself, dear boy. He’s been married to his work since he was a child, long before he was old enough to stitch a suture. I’ve not seen him outside of the East wing in months, and still it will be a few more before I catch even a glimpse. He is more reclusive than he realizes.” Apollo frowns. “Why have you brought him up, son of Hades? Has he offended you?”

Yes. He is always offending me. I believe ‘offensive’ may very well be the most natural setting for him — how, again, is he a doctor?

Nico swallows the thoughts down, and instead assures, “No, no, of course not.” His hands twitch. It takes another long silence for him to admit, “I only mean that I saw him this morning, and he appeared — well, frankly, he looks ill, My Lord. Sickly.”

Apollo hums, glancing down at a stack of letters in front of him. He must have been working before Nico interrupted him.

“I confess that I haven’t spoken with the doctor in some time, but I trust his judgement, my boy. He knows his craft. If he is unwell, he will handle himself. It is sickness’ season, after all. He’s likely only tired.”

Nico bites back a response. Clearly, the King does not understand the gravity of the situation. Does he not realize how dire things may be for him if his head physician falls deeply, truly ill? Nico is loathe to admit it, but Will is among the most talented men Nico has ever met. Whatever skill Nico knows in his swordfighting, Will knows tenfold in his sciences. The kind of healing he provided for Nico should not be possible. He’s beginning to understand that Will does not care what is and isn’t possible.

Including, he thinks, what is within his own limits.

“Very well, My Lord,” he says, bowing his head. “Thank you for your time.”

Apollo waves him off good-naturedly, returning to his letters. Nico leaves with a deeper frown on his face than when he came in.

———

The next time he braves the infirmary, it’s significantly less crowded.

It’s been a couple days. (Not that he’d intended. He’d walked by the infirmary doors no less than twenty-two times after speaking with King Apollo, at a complete loss for what to say, genuinely considering writing to his friend at House Athena to get her strategic input. In the end he’d refrained.)

By now, most of the beds are once again empty. A few ill people rest, either sleeping or entertaining themselves quietly. The general air of panic and chaos seems to have finally ceased as the sick season approaches its end.

Will, tending to an older patient — one of the senior maids, if Nico is not mistaken, who frowns at him in worry — sways on his feet.

“William,” he calls, all trepidation immediately fleeing his mind. Alarm bells ring in his head. When Will spares him a glance, he looks ghastly.

“Doctor William,” he corrects belatedly. There’s none of the usual annoyance in his voice, absolutely no bite. He doesn’t even roll his eyes.

Nico’s throat goes dry.

“Will,” murmurs the patient, placing a wrinkled hand on his arm. “Darling, you look unwell. Perhaps you should rest.”

Will hesitates, and for a moment Nico’s heart swells with hope. He won’t listen to Nico, but this woman acts familiar with him. Maybe she can convince him to sit, to breathe, to sleep.

(In the back of his mind, a voice screams at Nico to turn around and walk away. What is he doing? Will is the closest thing Nico has ever had to an enemy. He is stubborn, he thinks he knows everything, he kind of does know everything, he has horrible manners, he smiles at everyone, all the time, except Nico, whom he huffs at and rolls his eyes and yet touches very gently, even when Nico wrenches himself away. He is confusing and odd and yes, reclusive, even moreso than Nico. He constantly addresses Nico with the kind of sarcasm and disregard for status that would get him killed in stricter Houses — stricter houses like the one from which Nico hails. He is the pinnacle of impertinence.)

(And, yet.)

“Will.” It is genuinely worrying how slowly the physician responds. Nico’s heart begins to pound, and when Will lurches suddenly forward Nico darts out to steady him. The maid watches them with wide eyes. “Will, when was the last time you rested?”

Will doesn’t respond. His grip on Nico’s arm is worryingly loose, and for someone his height, he rests lightly against Nico’s frame. His eyes are glassy and far away.

“Will? William, answer me.”

“‘M — fine,” Will slurs, and then his eyes roll back into his head, and he slumps into Nico’s arms.

———

Thankfully, some of the colour comes back to Will’s face as he sleeps.

Nico had ended up putting him down on one of the infirmary cots. He hadn’t know what else to do — he has no idea where Will resides, whether it’s inside the palace or out, or whether King Apollo was being serious and he really does live somewhere in the infirmary. He had no idea whom even he could ask. As it was, he was barely able to lay Will down in a cot with the maid’s help, weakened with illness as she was — Will was limp as a ragdoll. For a moment, even, Nico was terrified he was dead. He certainly looked it.

In the thirty some hours (not that Nico has been counting), some colour has returned to his cheeks. His breathing is less laborious, quick, tiny puffing snores making his curly hair flick up and down with every breath. Sometimes he mutters in his sleep, to mumbled and quiet for Nico to make out.

He has stayed, for the most part, in a rickety wooden chair by Will’s side. He’s not sure why. His backside aches. There are nurses on duty, far more qualified and competent than he, who can monitor him easily. One nurse, even, with strangely coloured hair, walks into the infirmary five hours after Will passes out and immediately notices him on the cot, sighing loudly.

(“You need to take better care of yourself,” she’d whispered, running her fingers through his hair. Nico squashed down the sudden onslaught of bitterness that drowned his heart for no reason, nodding as she looked up and flashed him a small smile. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

There was no sarcasm in her use of the title. It startled him, which was disturbing. When had he come to expect it? And worse still, when did he come to accept it, Will’s mouthiness?)

When Will finally wakes, it is slowly. It matches the rise of the sun, Nico notices, in the languid way he stretches his limbs, the lethargic blinking of his long eyelashes. His brow furrowed when those blue eyes finally make contact, tilting his head as if he’s not sure he’s truly awake.

“…Your Highness?”

The sudden surge of rage is as frightening as it is comforting. He doesn’t know where it comes from. It’s familiar.

“You,” he seethes, “have endless nerve.”

He’d meant it as an insult, evidenced by his scathing tone. But Will preens.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“That was not a compliment! You collapsed in my arms, William! You were — greyer than stone! You slept for thirty hours!”

“Oh, good.”

Nico falters. (Which is unfortunate, because he had a good lecture rolling, something his tutors would have been proud of.)

“Good?”

“It was forty-two, last time.” He has the gall to look offended, huffing in Nico’s direction. “I wish you would leave well enough alone, Your Highness. I’m certain I would have persevered through the end of the season’s peak.”

“Through the end of the — you were dying!”

To his great distress, Nico finds himself choked up at the idea. He allows himself, fleetingly and privately, to acknowledge the fact that he does not want Will to die. In fact, he never wants to see Will close to that unwell ever again. He much prefers it when the doctor is rolling his eyes at him, turning away before Nico can see his smile, or pacing the infirmary floors as he rants about sanitary practices and organisms too small to see. He prefers Will when he is intense, in anger or in passion or in that bright, beaming smile of his, not…whatever he was. Dull. Worn down.

And then he takes those thoughts and stuffs them far into the recesses of his mind.

“I was not dying,” Will insists, but he has the grace to appear at least a little chagrined. “Good gods, Your Highness, I’ve been studying medicine since I could read. I know my limits.”

“Do you.” Nico’s voice is bitter, and he glares at Will until he looks away. “Because I could have sworn that you lost consciousness mid-sentence. I barely caught you.”

Will coughs. The tips of his ears turn red. Nico ignores it.

“William,” he says instead.

“Doctor William.”

Despite his anger, Nico’s lips twitch up into a smile. There he is.

He refuses to correct himself, if only to deepen the lovely (oh, no) scowl on Will’s face. “William, I don’t believe you’re to be trusted alone in your infirmary. I shall be staying to supervise you.”

Several emotions flit across Will’s face at once.

First is annoyance. Clear, plain, and simple, it’s almost an old friend to Nico at this point. Will was annoyed with him the first day they met. He was annoyed the second time, seething, really, dragging Nico back to the sterile surgical suite to fix his torn stitches. He was annoyed when Nico first shouted at him, bewilderment at this random physician treating him like he was another resident of the palace, not the only son of Hades. He was annoyed, notably, the one time Nico came to the infirmary after spraining his wrist in sword fighting and, in Will’s words, “breathed too loudly.” The annoyance he expected.

The next is fear. This, he takes much less pleasure in. There’s something disturbing about the look, not just because Will seems, to him, fearless, but because it seems so out of place. What about this situation does Will have to fear?

The third emotion is puzzling, and Nico can’t quite determine what exactly it is. His first thought is trepidation, but that’s not exactly true. It’s gone quick enough that he doesn’t care to linger.

The final emotion — and this one he has no trouble identifying — is pure, incandescent rage.

“You will do no such thing,” Will says, voice clipped. “I believe I have already informed you about the mechanics of this infirmary, Your Highness. I will not be intimidated.”

Nico rests his foot on his knee, leaning back into the chair. He adopts his favourite expression he often uses to enrage his father — eyebrow raised, smirk quirking the corner of his mouth, smugness practically dripping from him.

“I’m surprised you even remember that, as dead as you were.”

“I remember just fine,” says Will coolly, “and I especially remember removing you from the premises, so frankly I am unsure why you’re here again, Your Highness. Not unlike a wart one has already had removed.”

Nico refuses to laugh.

“I’m here because you collapsed into my arms. Like a damsel.”

Finally — third time is the charm — Will’s face erupts in a fiery blush. His freckles practically glow, and satisfaction ripples through Nico from head to toe. He looks murderous. Nico wishes to freeze him in time long enough to commission a portrait, perhaps to hang right over the physician’s desk. To remind him of his idiocy.

“I am no damsel —”

“Regardless,” Nico interrupts, standing. He reaches out when Will attempts to stand after him, pressing his palm flat to his chest and pushing him back against the cot. A strange sound escapes Will’s throat, and he doesn’t attempt to move again. “I will be taking my leave. I’ll be back before dinner to make sure you’ve not left your bed until you’re cleared by your nurse.” He glances over at the nurse who’d walked in earlier, finding her already watching with a wide smirk. “And then I’ll be back again tomorrow, to supervise.”

“I hope you choke on your dinner,” Will spits. He looks positively venomous, moreso when Nico laughs at him. “I mean that, Your Highness.”

Nico leaves without a response. When he returns as promised, hours later, Will attempts to lob roasted zucchini into his hair. In House Hades, he would be arrested for his behaviour. In fact, should King Apollo witness the total disdain in which Will regards Nico’s authority, he might still be arrested. It is appalling. No one has ever gotten away with so much insubordination in Nico’s life.

And yet, strangely, he’s not sure that he minds.

———

more in this au

#authority who?? will my beloved. slightly arrogant nico my everything like who called HIMSELF the ghost king y’all 😭😭#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico/will #will/nico #solangelo #pre relationship #royal au #fic #my writing #longpost

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awrkive · 2 years

Text

[TEASER] COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK

jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it's casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can't help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+

WORD COUNT 1.6k for this teaser but the word count is currently at ~15k i still have to write 3 more scenes and i also haven't edited the whole thing yet so let's see

WARNINGS/MISC fwb!au, college!au, basketball player!jk, kinda secret relationship?!au, kinda nerdy!oc but not really she's just very school-oriented, jk is tatted up here and is very yummy sighs, school journalist!reader, multiple sex scenes (ill specify when it comes out) honestly idek where all of those came from but auuuurrrxxx. warnings specifically for this teaser: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is a fanfiction everything tends to be crazy around these areas don't do it irl pls omg lol)

NOTES uhm u guys so i never knew i had the ability to write long and big fics lmao but i apparently do yay (bless ME for making outlines they make writing soooo much easier)

‼️FULL FIC IS HERE

The late March weather has been cold these days, so when Jungkook – in his real fuckboy fashion – texted you that his nose could use a heater and he could offer to warm you up in return, you agreed for him to come over even though you pretended to be disgusted by his offer. Just for the theatrics.

"Hurry," you whimper as he manhandles you in getting you off his lap, making you bounce on the mattress.

Just like that, the warmth from being pressed against his body is gone, exchanged by the cold immediately spreading goosebumps through your skin as Jungkook makes quick work of spreading your legs, eliciting a bit of an uncomfortable feeling from you as you feel your cum leaking out.

Jungkook swipes a hand through his sweaty hairline as he kneels inside your spread legs, and you have to fight a moan at the sight. You still feel a little delirious from when he made you cum the second time just a minute ago, still lightheaded from the high of it. But you can't deny that he always looks so good in all his natural, naked form; chest heaving, toned stomach coated in sheer sweat, his biceps – especially the tatted one – bulging as he reaches for your hips to pull you down so he could enter you once again.

It tears a cry from your vocal chords, him thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his pace frantic and inconsistent, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. His grunts, together with your pathetic little moans at the feel of his cock touching every part of your pussy filled the room.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groans, leaning down, and as a result, reaching deeper into you, mouth reaching for your breast to your mouth. The kiss is a sloppy act of both of you just breathing in each other's mouths, as Jungkook drills your pussy faster, his fingers tightening around your waist. A particular hard thrust got you drawing out a loud mewl and that's what tips Jungkook over the edge. "F-fuck – shit, where do I cum baby? Tell me, tell me."

"Inside, Kook. Please cum inside me,"

He lets out a sharp breath and after a few more erratic strokes, you feel his hot release painting your inner walls.

"Shit," Jungkook hisses as he falls on top of you. You can feel the way he's heaving as his skin touches yours, but you let yourself relax on the mattress, letting out shallow breaths.

Since he's way more athletic than you, he got over it soon and you feel him picking himself up to hover over you, beginning to plant kisses all over your chest, your nipples, your shoulders, your collarbones.

"Kook," you call softly, your limp hand patting his ass to get his attention. He always gets so preoccupied with kissing your body after sex.

Jungkook hums, but he looks at you. "Yeah?"

You grunt. "I just washed my sheets two days ago and I don't want cum stains on them."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he leans down, and even though you were complaining just now, you let out quite a joyful hum when he kisses you. "Let me see first."

You don't need to ask what he's referring to.

Pushing your body back up, Jungkook takes it upon himself to get his body off of you to watch as you slide two fingers over your pussy, spreading the lips so he can see the combination of your and his cum all over it.

"You need to hurry, Nayeon is coming home in a few minutes."

He doesn't even try to look like he's concerned about the urgency of that matter, just hums absentmindedly and gets his own finger to run over your exposed heat. You shiver at the contrast of the hot feeling of your pussy and the cold feeling of his finger, but it soon turns into pleasure when he gathers your cum and pushes it back into you.

"Are you going to keep it in for me?" He whispers, a thumb now caressing your hip.

"Depends."

Jungkook looks back up at you, a sly grin spreading on his lips. "On what?"

"If you're going to be good and say please when you want something." You grin at him, feeling pretty proud of yourself for catching him off guard. It doesn't last long very much though as he smirks, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you hear a series of knocks and your eyes widen at that.

You hissed. "Shit, that's Nayeon."

You sit up from the bed. Jungkook mirrors your haste, scrambling to find his clothes on the floor and putting them on quickly. You have your robe just nearby so you put just that on, ignoring the tingling sensation of cum trickling down your legs.

"I have to go," Jungkook whispers, and you nod, walking towards the window on the far end of the room and opening it up widely.

Like usual, Jungkook steps on the frame and easily hauls himself outside. It's the backside of the building of your complex, and it's mostly and usually quiet, so it's pretty safe for him to just go out of there without anyone noticing, and most especially at times like this. Because Nayeon can't know. No one can.

"I'll see you later, pretty."

Jungkook winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes, waving him off which earns a laugh from him. He easily saunters through the area, though, and you find it quite unfair how he still carries a certain graceful energy to him even though he literally just did a cardio exercise with you for about 20 minutes. Ugh, him and his athletic body.

Nayeon's voice can be heard across the flat, but before you let her in, you spray an unhealthy amount of air freshener on your body and around the room (just in case she enters) and shove your discarded clothes from earlier in the laundry basket. After that, you finally run towards the door, welcoming Nayeon with a smile as you open it.

"Hi!" You greet. She immediately hugs you briefly, groaning as she steps back and suanters towards the room.

"Class sucked today," she immediately throws herself on the couch and you give her a sympathetic smile, walking towards the fridge to get water.

"Well, wish me luck. I'm just heading out for one."

"God, I can't wait 'til we graduate, I'm tired of this bullshit." She says, but she's opening up her laptop for what you could guess as for finishing up an assigned work. "I wish I was having bomb sex like you. Hey, do you want to go to this party on Friday?"

"I – what?"

"Party on Friday? Finals season for basketball starts on Friday and they're planning a party. We could use free booze and stress-free night." Nayeon repeats, but you weren't asking for the party.

"I'm not having bomb sex." You say, and that makes her look at you. You stare at each other for a solid few seconds until she rolls her eyes.

"Girl, your hair is looking like a bird's nest and your lips are swollen as hell. I might not be having bomb sex in the current moment but I know what I look like after I do the deed," She wears her eyeglasses and perched it on her nose. "And you kinda smelled like sex when you opened the door."

"Gah!" You feel heat coming and spreading through your cheeks. You thought the damn Febreeze would hold up!

Nayeon waves you off. "It's fine, it's not like you haven't caught me before like that."

"It's embarrassing!" You insist, stuffing your face with a loaf of bread and purposely not meeting Nayeon's gaze so you don't see the teasing smiles you're sure she's sending your way.

"That you're having sex in college?!" Her playful scandalous tone makes you laugh though and that's when you look at her.

"No, ugh. Just. Sorry. If I smelled like sex. I tried spraying a lot of air freshener earlier."

She wiggles her brows. "Oh, is that why you took a long time opening the door? Was your sneaky link here just now?"

"Sneaky what?" You say, laughing.

"Sneaky link. You know, a hook up. Wait, is it a boyfriend? Please say no, because I would be extremely offended if you haven't introduced your boyfriend to me all this time."

You could swear you felt goosebumps on your nape when you heard the word boyfriend and saw images of Jungkook in your head immediately. "It's definitely not a boyfriend. Just… someone I hook up with sometimes."

"Interesting. Do I know him?"

The question makes you nervous. She definitely knows. No one not knows who Jungkook is at your campus.

With a shake of your head, you tell her, "Nope."

"Okay, which department? Does he go to our Uni?" She asks, now seemingly fully invested in this conversation rather than the assignment before her. You're happy to be a bit of a help to lessen her sour mood from earlier but you shake your head and let out playful tsk-ing sounds,

"Too many questions, babe. My class is starting in twenty minutes."

You hear her laughing as you carry your clothes to the bathroom to change and to clean up the mess in your nether region. Damn. Jungkook cums a lot these days… he needs to masturbate or something.

"Fine, fine! You don't want me to know but I'm gonna find out about the mystery guy one way or another!"

Shutting the door to the bathroom, your face contorts at Nayeon's words.

Yeah, absolutely not. Jungkook and you made an agreement in the first place that everyone should be oblivious of your situationship, and it's worked for almost four months now.

You can't fuck it up now.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook ff #bts fic #bts smut

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mint-yooxgi · 11 months

Text

{10} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on San, and slight focus on Hongjoong, and a bit of Yeosang at the end)

Words: 11,371

Warnings: Mental Illness. PTSD: mentions of past trauma and violence, anxiety, depression. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I honestly wasn't expecting for this chapter to even be a thing, but I think it's much needed in terms of plot and character development, so I really hope you all enjoy it! Plus, Wooyoung smut next chapter~ 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Standing just outside the entrance to the garden, there’s a certain intensity that lingers on your features. Your eyes remain fixated on the golden handles, practically glaring down at them as your brows furrow in concentration. A slight frown pulls at your lips, but still, you, nor the doors, move.

“Practicing your telekinesis, Baby?” A soft chuckle sounds from behind you.

You blink, but do not respond, opting to continue staring intently at the handles of the door.

“I think Jongho’s blood has long since left your system.” San steps in beside you, amusement tugging his lips upwards in the corners. “Besides, I’m not sure if it would even be capable of giving you such a power.”

“It’s not that,” you sigh, finally shifting your gaze from the door and towards your feet.

Immediately, concern is pulling at his features as his one hand finds purchase on your lower back. “Then, what is it?”

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes, your shoulders deflating all the while. It’s been two days since Jongho made a full recovery, you having pulled him out of the veil between worlds. You thought it would be a good idea to slowly reintroduce yourself to certain places in the house, but unfortunately, you seem to be having some difficulties. Perhaps starting with the garden was not the wisest decision.

“You’ve been glaring at the door to the garden for the past twenty minutes.” San says, his thumb gently stroking against your back. “If you’re not ready, don’t force yourself-“

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, San.” Your voice is small, but you still manage to cut him off. “There’s not really a good timeline I can follow. I just don’t want her to have a hold on me any longer. It’s not fair to any of us.”

He smiles assuringly at you. “I understand.”

“I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be.” Again, you avert your gaze to your feet.

“I’m right here, Baby.” His fingers press the slightest bit firmer into your back. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I promise.”

Raising your head, you spare him a small smile. Subconsciously, you lean into his touch.

“What brings you to the garden, anyways?” You decide a slight change in subject might help distract you.

“Me?” His eyebrows quirk upwards slightly. “I came to check on my plants.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Your plants?”

“Yes.” He grins, a slight chuckle falling from his lips. “My plants.”

At your quizzical look, he’s quick to shift his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

“Fruits, vegetables, you name it,” he tells you. “I grow them all.”

“Really?”

There’s a genuine curiosity in your voice that he hasn’t heard for quite some time now, which only makes his smile widen. “Would you like to see?”

At your eager nod, San shifts forward, opening the door to the garden and helping you step through the threshold. His arm never leaves your body for one second, guiding you through the flowers and to the greenhouse in the back corner.

You don’t realize how tense you become as soon as you step foot into the garden, but San does. Your eyes flit every which way, taking in all of the details of the once decimated space and noticing how everything looks exactly as it did before Miyeon destroyed it. There’s even a few different types of flowers blooming around the place now, including snapdragons and hyacinths.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

The moment your sight lands on that sparkling fountain in the centre of the garden, you stop breathing. You haven’t even realized that you’ve frozen to your spot, planting your feet firmly on the ground as you stare at that mass monument before you. Only when you see San stepping in front of you, gently guiding your gaze to his own do you register the sudden way your chest heaves with shallow breaths, the male cooing to you all the while.

“It’s okay, Baby.” He assures you lowly, noting the way your gaze continually wants to dart passed him and back to the fountain behind him.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hold is gentle on your arms as he stands before you, and that’s when you realize that you can no longer hear the sound of trickling water echoing throughout the space.

The water hovers there, as if frozen in time, yet not solid like ice. It is suspended in a state of limbo, and you just know that the male standing before you has everything to do with it.

“Just keep your eyes on me, Baby.” He begins to slowly walk backwards, guiding you through the garden and past the fountain. “I’ve got you. I promise nothing will harm you here again.”

You keep your eyes locked on his, the soft brown of his irises peering out at you through a concerned brow.

“That’s it,” gently, he encourages you. “We’re almost there.”

It’s brief, but you still manage to nod. Your breathing seems to be evening out, too.

“You’re doing so well, Baby.” His voice is tender, his hands sliding down your arms in order to hold your own in his. He squeezes them softly. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

Again, you nod, swallowing lightly as you reach the greenhouse.

Shifting both of your hands to his right one, San reaches behind him with the greatest of ease to open the door to the greenhouse. He doesn’t even need to look behind him as he guides you inside, giving your hands another small reassuring squeeze as the door falls shut quietly behind you.

“There,” he smiles. “Safe and sound.”

You smile weakly in return.

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” He gently shakes you hands still held in his own.

“No,” you take a deep breath, the smell of crisp apples, along with various other fruits greeting your senses almost immediately. “I suppose not.”

“I’m so proud of you, Baby.” San’s voice is but a whisper as he brings a hand up to cup the side of your face.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch more than you realize.

“Thank you, San.” You breathe out, heart rate finally returning to normal the more time you spend with him like this. “It may not have been perfect for my first try, but I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Of course, Baby,” his thumb strokes tenderly over your cheek. “I will always be here for you; I’m glad I could help.”

A brief silence settles over the both of you as you let the moment linger. Your breathing evens out, shoulders relaxing as he continues to observe you carefully.

“So,” you blink a few times in mild curiosity, attempting not to let your gaze wander too much. “Your plants?”

“Ah, right!” His whole demeanour perks up. “What would you like to see first?”

“Anything and everything you wish to show me.”

The smile that stretches across his face lights up the whole greenhouse. Gently, he shifts his hand back into your own, pulling you along with him as he guides you through a space which appears much larger on the inside than the outside. Certain plants are grouped together based on climate and soil conditions, and you notice the slightest changes in temperature around them. It’s as if those particular sections are weather controlled to be different than the others around them.

Looks like their magic runs deeper than you could have ever imagined.

“I’ve always grown the basics,” he explains, leading you through his vegetable garden. “Sometimes it changes depending on the season, or what we all feel like having, but I always have tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, carrots, zucchini, cucumbers, and bell peppers.”

San takes a moment to crouch down in front of his tomato plants, running his fingers gently over the leaves and pruning a few while he’s at it. Softly, he coos to the fruit, and the small encouragements he seems to give the plants makes you smile.

“How long have you had them?” Your awe filled gaze sweeps over the produce before you, taking in the vibrance of their leaves and the quantity of their fruit.

“Ever since I got into cooking,” he explains, watching you fondly. “So, my whole life.”

“Wow,” you breathe, turning to face him once more. “You’re incredible, Baby!”

Immediately, a vibrant blush begins to creep up his neck, settling onto his cheeks as he stutters in his spot.

“I understand why you have such a vendetta against grocery store produce now,” you chuckle fondly. “You’ve been spoiled with fresh, homegrown food since the beginning.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he grins. “Just wait until you see the orchard.”

Your entire body freezes, lips parting in mild shock. You blink a few times, the corners of your lips slowly tugging upwards. “You mean to tell me that there’s an orchard inside this greenhouse?”

He nods proudly. “Follow me.”

Again, San gently guides you towards the back of the building, and you notice how there seems to be a separate section placed off to the side. The whole building seems to be shaped like an ‘L’, large windows spanning either side. As soon as you round the corner, the greenhouse opens up into a vast space, all different types of plants continuing to span the area.

“There’s almost one of each kind in their respective rows, but some of the fruit trees we have to make special visitations for.” He explains.

“Special visitations?” You repeat, taking in the large orange tree in front of you.

“Unfortunately, not all plants can be acclimatized to our greenhouse.” A slight frown tugs at his features. “I’m working on making sure they can be, but for now, we have special farms I usually like to visit to get those specific products I’m missing.”

Realization crosses your features. “That’s still really cool.”

“You think so?” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I mean, not all the trees in the orchard here are mine, per se.”

You tilt your head at him in inquiry.

“Joong would probably murder me if I touched his lemon tree.” San says. “Well, other than when I harvest the fruit to be used in a recipe. He can never say no to lemon squares.”

“Hongjoong has a lemon tree?” Your eyes scan the rows, seeing a large plant with vibrant yellow fruit hanging from its branches a little ways down the row you’re currently standing in.

“Yes.” San confirms with a nod. “Yeosang grows his own jalapeños, too. Hwa and Yunho are very adamant about caring for the various berries we grow, but I have a few favourites of my own.”

“What are your favourites, then?” The way you look at him, with wide eyes filled with nothing but curiosity, sets his heart racing.

He smiles. “I’ll show you.”

Leading you down the path with a spring to his step, San takes only a single right turn before stopping before a somewhat smaller tree than all the others.

“This one’s a little newer than the rest, but I’ve grown quite fond of it recently.” His eyes trail over the tree in front of him.

Large fruit hang heavily from the branches, very particular in shape. Their pastel pink skin fades into hues of white and orange, soft fuzz coating the sides.

“Peaches?” Your voice is nothing short of tender as you focus on him standing beside you.

“I’ve taken a fond liking to them recently.” He hums.

“You don’t say,” you grin, almost knowingly.

A moment later, and your gaze is shifting around the area, noting the other fruit hanging from the branches around you.

A gasp escapes you as you excitedly waddle over to the tree right before your very eyes, the fruit hanging in abundance in vibrant shades of red, yellow, and green. “Mangos?”

A fond chuckle escapes the male as he walks up beside you. “Would you like one?”

No verbal response is needed. Not when you eagerly shake your head, turning your awe filled gaze to stare deeply into his own eyes.

Your whole body practically vibrates in excitement, gaze darting from one fruit to the next. You can practically smell the aroma drifting through the branches, and it makes you smile instantaneously.

Softly, San reaches out before you and plucks a fruit fresh from the branch, tracing his thumb over the side of its skin. Carefully, he takes your hand back into one of his own, placing the fruit delicately into your palm as he smiles.

The wonder filled look you wear means everything to him in this moment. The fact that he can see your lips part, eyes shining with nothing but adoration sets his heart racing.

“I love mangos.” You admit, voice nothing but a tender caress to his ears.

“So I’ve heard,” he smiles, chest warming at the way your hands hold onto that fruit so delicately right now. “Mingi enjoys raiding them for smoothies.”

“And he didn’t invite me…” you click your tongue, shaking your head in mock disapproval.

“To be fair, he had been pestering me for a mango tree for quite a long time before I finally gave in.” He admits, dragging the sole of his foot against the ground as he averts his gaze.

“Did you-“ you blink, heart skipping a beat as realization settles over you. “Did you start growing these for me?”

“Of course, Baby,” he confirms, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. “I started growing quite a few things for you, especially once I learnt that you enjoy fresh fruit so much.”

Your entire being warms, nothing but fondness flooding your veins as you rest your head gently on his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you breathe out a content sigh, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense, Baby.” Almost immediately, he shakes his head, completely appalled by your words. “You deserve everything I have to offer, and so much more.”

“I meant it in the sense that you’re too good to me,” you chuckle, wrapping your free arm around his own. “I can’t think of a single person that I know of who can say that their lover started growing specific fruits just for them.”

“Of course I would,” his reply is immediate. “Only the best for My Baby.”

A content hum escapes you. “I appreciate that, Sannie.” A pause. “I appreciate you.”

He shifts closer, turning to place a gentle kiss onto the side of your head. “I love you, Baby.”

You smile, sinking further into his side as you feel yourself fully relax. “I love you, My Aquaman.”

You don’t even need to look at him to know a large, giddy smile stretches across his features from your words. You can feel it just in the way his whole body shakes lightly in happiness beside you. Although it’s faint, you swear you can also hear his heartbeat thundering beneath his skin.

A sense of calm washes over the both of you as he leads you back to the main area of the greenhouse. Wordlessly, he places a tender kiss onto your cheek before somewhat reluctantly pulling away from you to begin tending to his plants. You, on the other hand, sit yourself nearby, watching him fondly as he begins to work.

“So, you’ve been cooking all your life?” Your legs begin to swing back and forth as you rest that mango beside you on top of the table you’re currently sitting on.

“For as long as I can remember, yes.” He confirms, pruning his plants lightly. “It came quite naturally to me. Plus, my powers always help make it easier.”

“What’s your favourite thing to cook?” You observe him eagerly.

He spares a glance over his shoulder, the corner of his lips quirking upwards softly. “Anything My Baby desires.”

“San!” You laugh, shaking your head lightheartedly. “I’m being serious!”

“So am I.” He hums, shifting on to the next plant in the row. “Though, if I have to choose, I do enjoy cooking old family recipes. It’s always nice to discover how tastes have changed and been passed on with each new generation.”

“How many unique family recipes do you know, then?” Your ankles are crossed as your hands support you on either side of the table.

“Oh, probably over a few hundred thousand.” He replies, nonchalantly. “Give or take.”

Your jaw drops, “That’s incredible!”

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red.

“You should teach me sometime.”

The statement you make is casual, but it still causes San to freeze in his spot, nearly dropping the dead leaves he’s gathered in his one hand.

Slowly, he turns to face you, nothing but hope shining within his gaze. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do, Baby.” Your legs finally still as you smile down at him. “I would love to cook with you, and besides, you shouldn’t have to prepare all of the meals. I want to make things for you and the other guys from time to time, too.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s before you, his hands on either side of your body as the pile of dead leaves now rests on top of the table. They appear almost as if they’ve been thrown haphazardly across the surface, his whole body trembling as he clings onto the edge for dear life.

“You want to cook for me?” His voice is small, hopeful as he tilts his head downwards, avoiding your eyes for the moment.

“I can’t promise it’ll be as good as your own food, but I would like to at some point; yes.” You nod once, quite firmly at that.

“Baby,” he swallows thickly, and his gaze says it all.

Nothing but love for you is seen in his eyes, which are shining with unshed tears. His lips are slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them as his arms continue to shake as he holds himself steady against the edge of the table. Softly, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his heart racing uncontrollably in his chest.

“My baking is a little better than my cooking, but-“

You don’t even get to finish your thought, for his arms are around you, pulling you flush against his chest. A sob wracks his chest, tears of unfiltered joy falling onto your shoulder as he holds you close.

Gently, you card your fingers through his hair, holding onto him just as tightly as he clings to you.

“I didn’t realize you’d have this type of reaction,” you chuckle, rubbing his back comfortingly with your free hand.

“It just means a lot to me,” his voice is low as he mumbles the words against your neck. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Tenderly, you press your lips onto the side of his head. “I know how much you love cooking, San. I would be honoured to be able to share in that passion with you.”

His grip tightens ever so slightly as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. This is everything he’s ever wanted, and so much more. Finally, he can share his passion of doing what he loves with the person that he loves most in this world. Something he’s always longed to do.

“Just, don’t tell my mom.” You joke, watching as he pulls away to glance into your eyes.

“Why not?” His brow furrows.

“She’s been trying to teach me how to properly cook for years.” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “I always told her that I was fine on my own.”

“Did you, now?” He quirks a brow playfully.

“I know how to follow a recipe, boil water, and cook eggs.” You shrug. “That’s all I’ve ever needed before.”

A dramatic hand is placed over his heart. “Oh, Baby, you hurt me so.”

“I’m not that bad a cook,” you roll your eyes teasingly. “I can cook, I just choose not to.”

“Which will make us cooking together all the more special.” He hums, eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles at you.

“Exactly.” You loop your arms around his shoulders. “I want to spend more time with the people I love, doing what they love to do.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks, a certain mischievous gleam suddenly shining within his eyes. “Don’t say that, Baby. We’d be tempted to never let you leave your bed again.”

Your back straightens, a heat blooming on your cheeks as you slap his arm playfully. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Baby.” He chuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you get flustered.”

“And you’re very handsome when you’re excited about something.” You grin. “So, I guess we’re even.”

He returns your smile. “I guess so.”

Sliding your hands to rest on his shoulders, you give them a firm squeeze. A sense of calm passes over the both of you, his own grip finding purchase on your waist.

“Shouldn’t you be tending to your plants?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“I could,” he hums, “but that would mean spending less time with you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon,” you poke his cheek affectionately, watching as that dimple of his appears almost instantly.

“Well, if I did things like I normally do, I’d be done in a flash.” He says. “Doing this by hand will most certainly take me longer, meaning you can spend more time with me.”

“How you normally do things?” You tilt your head curiously.

“It’s quite easy to manipulate plants once you get the hang of both the oxygen and water they consist of.” He explains.

Your eyes widen, lips parting in awe.

“There are still aspects of us and our powers you have yet to see,” he winks, a smug grin tugging at his features.

“So I’ve been told,” you exhale somewhat breathlessly. “And just how do you normally do things?”

A light squeeze to your waist is all you receive before San steps to the side. Gently, he takes your one hand in his as he motions to the tomato plants in front of you.

“Watch closely.” His voice is low right by your ear as he leans into your side.

Fixating your gaze on the one plant he’s yet to prune, a gasp escapes you as you see the leaves beginning to sway. Carefully, the dead leaves separate from the plant, moisture collecting on the fruit almost instantly before sliding downwards. The droplets seem to gather in one place before floating in the air and moving to the next fruit, doing the same in succession.

A gentle breeze drifts passed, and you catch the faintest scent of peaches in the air this time.

“I use the moisture in the air to mist them, and then depending on the plant, the excess water is given back to the soil for the roots.” San’s voice is gentle, a fond look resting on his features as he takes in your expression of pure wonder once more.

“That’s amazing!” You squeeze his hand, whole body practically vibrating in excitement. “You’re incredible, Baby!”

“It’s nothing,” he attempts to shrug you off again, despite the vibrant blush creeping up his neck.

“So, then,” you stand back onto your feet, walking over to observe the tomatoes he’s just tended to. “How long does this usually take you?”

“Minutes at most,” he replies, eyes shining as he watches you crouch beside the plant. “Seconds at best.”

“Wow.” You blink up at him in awe before pushing yourself back to your feet. “So, you were only doing it manually today to spend more time with me?”

“I figured you could use the distraction,” he shrugs. “Besides, I wanted to impress you, and show off my greenhouse.”

“Well, it worked.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Count me impressed on all parts.”

“I guess it’s a bonus I got to show you this, too.” He hums, nudging you back.

“I’m always interested in spending time with you, regardless of what we’re doing.” You admit softly. Then, just as tenderly, “I’m always interested in you.”

A low, pleased rumble shakes his chest.

“The feeling will always be mutual, Baby.” His voice is but a whisper as he pulls you into his arms.

“Well then, why don’t you finish up here, and then we can go bake something together.” You hum. “I’ve been meaning to make those cookies Reina mentioned when she saw the two kitchens the other day. Those are probably the only things I know how to bake off the top of my head recipe wise.”

“She was supposed to send me the instructions for how to make those.” San grumbles under his breath.

“I think she lied,” you smile lightly. “She only makes them for certain occasions.”

“Like what?” His brow furrows.

“When I need a pick me up.” You reply, stepping away from him lightly. “She only taught me how to make them after-“ the words catch in your throat as your expression falls. “I think I know why she mentioned them this time around.”

“Reina knows?” His brow furrows slightly, worry shining in his eyes as he watches your whole visage drop.

“Reina can be very perceptive when she wants to be.” You say, a small sigh escaping your lips. “Especially when it comes to me. We practically know each other better than we know ourselves.”

“I thought your sister was the only one that knew?” San frowns slightly.

“Reina figured it out, so I told her.” Your one hand comes up to rub at the side of your arm. “She knew- knows about my mental health probably better than anyone, my sister included.”

“She’s a good friend.” He observes.

“Yeah.” You smile, a soft nod to your head. “She is.”

“Alright, Baby,” San gently cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb tenderly against your cheek. “Why don’t you meet me in the kitchen, then? I’ll finish up here, cut up that mango for you, and then we can make those cookies together. How does that sound?”

You begin to nod. “Okay.”

A wide smile is all that you receive in response as you turn back to the table you had just been sitting on. It takes nothing to grab that fresh mango in your hand once more, turning to exit the greenhouse in the next second.

“Baby,” San’s somewhat urgent call of your name causes you to turn back to face him. “Will you be okay in the garden on your own?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the care he continues to extend towards you.

“I will be.” You nod, somewhat firmly. Though, at the worried look he sends your way, you smile reassuringly at him. “I promise to call you if I need you. So, please, San, take your time.”

“Alright, Baby,” he breathes out a low sigh. “I’ll be right there.”

A final nod is all you give him as you turn back towards the greenhouse door. You can feel his eyes watching you the whole time as you take your leave, pausing only briefly to take a deep breath before exit the building once and for all.

The first thing you hear as soon as you shut the door behind you is the trickling of that fountain. You can smell the sweet aroma of the flowers drifting through the air, and it offers you comfort as you keep your back turned to the scenery behind you. The whole time, a small mantra of ‘nothing can hurt you now’ and ‘you’re okay’ runs through your head, taking deep breaths to help steady yourself for the time being.

You can get through this.

She cannot hurt you anymore. You won’t let her.

Turning around, you face the garden.

For a moment, you do not move. That single mango is clutched lightly in your hand as you swallow thickly, taking in every detail of the garden before you like the very first time. Again, you can see the meticulous detail that has gone into every aspect of this space.

A space designed for you.

For you and only you.

This is yours. You won’t let her take what this space means away from you, or them for that matter.

You take a small step forward.

The bench where you had that lovely talk with Hongjoong that one day still rests to the side. The foliage is a bit thicker than all those months ago, though. There seems to be a few symbols now carved into the wood, and you just know in your gut that they’re there for your protection.

You take another step.

There are all of the peonies, lilies, roses, and forget-me-nots lining the same path you took the very first time Hongjoong showed you this place. Stepping in beside them now, you lean over to take in their scents just as you did before, letting those better memories replace the single bad one.

Finally, you acknowledge the fountain.

Turning to face the sparkling water, you watch as it shines, trickling down each level of the carved stones. Despite your best efforts, your gaze flits to the very spot Miyeon held you down upon, submerging your head beneath the crisp, crystal clear liquid until your lungs burned for air.

You swallow thickly.

Blinking a few times, you step in closer.

She’s not here, but you are. You are still breathing. Despite everything she did to you that day, you are the one that emerged alive on the other end.

You sit on the edge of the fountain.

It’s a little difficult to keep your breathing under control, but you know that you need to do this for your sake. You’ve always been a very logic driven person, and doing this will prove to yourself once and for all that you are okay. Not only are you proving that she can no longer hurt you, but that these places have always been, and will always be safe. She was the one anomaly that caused you harm, not the fountain itself.

You close your eyes, allowing the sounds and scents of the garden to overflow your senses and lull you into a sense of security just as they’ve always done. This space has always offered you comfort, and you allow it to do so once more now.

With each passing second, you begin to relax more and more.

“Baby?” A somewhat tentative call of your name causes your eyes to flutter open to see San standing at the entrance to the garden. He takes a small step towards you. “When I couldn’t find you in either kitchen, I got worried.”

“I’m okay, San.” You breathe out, lifting your gaze to meet his concerned one. “I needed to do this.”

Carefully, he sits beside you on the edge of the fountain.

You look down at your hands, watching your thumb gently trace over the skin of that mango still held in your grip.

“I don’t want her to taint what this place means to me any longer.” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, yet he still manages to hear you loud and clear. “She doesn’t get that satisfaction. I’m not going to let her make me fear my own home.”

His expression softens, reaching out to grasp one of your hands in his own.

A moment of silence.

“It hurt, San.” You swallow thickly, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel the beginnings of tears stinging at the corners. “I thought my lungs were going to burst from how badly they were burning inside my chest.”

His free hand comes up to rest gently on your back as he shifts closer to you, nothing but concern in his gaze as he watches you break down right in front of him.

“I thought, ‘this is the end.’” You admit lowly, and you feel the way he stiffens beside you. Your grip tightens in your lap. “I wanted it to be the end.”

A soft call of your name escapes him as no more than a worried breath.

“As much as I wanted to live that day, I still have no idea how I survived as long as I did.” The confession weighs heavy on your shoulders, eyes blank as you stare at the cobblestone path beneath your feet. A brief flash of that conversation with Wyno the other day passes through your mind. “I should have died. I think a part of me did die.”

This time, it’s his turn to swallow thickly.

“I just don’t think I wanted to acknowledge it until now.” You finally look up to meet his gaze, the first of your tears sliding down the side of your cheeks. “Yet, I’m still here,” you smile weakly, “and I’m glad that I am.”

The hand that had been resting on your back comes up to cup the side of your face.

“I don’t know how long it will take me to get better, but it’s time for me to stop hiding my pain and pretending that everything is okay.” You lean over to rest your head against his shoulder. “I didn’t realize what I needed to do before, but today has really helped. I think I had just been avoiding it, honestly.” You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “Thank you, San, for being patient with me, and for always being there.”

A small smile is sent your way, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in closer to his side.

“I’m here for you, Baby. Always.” He rests his head on top of your own as his voice drops to a mere whisper. “I’m sorry you had to suffer at her hands. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you like I promised I would.”

You feel a tear land on top of your head, but with how firmly he’s holding onto you, you do not dare move. He needs this just as much as you do right now.

“Not a day passes by where I don’t blame myself for what she did to you.”

“San-“

“Please, Baby, I need to get this off my chest.” His voice is strained.

You remain silent, shifting the slightest bit closer to him in response.

“We all have regrets about that day: leaving you by yourself, not taking even a minute to think when Stella came to get us, letting you get that hurt.” He takes a deep, stuttering breath inwards. “For all of our powers, we couldn’t even sense her breaking through our wards. The moment we got back to discover you like that, our entire world stopped. I thought to myself, ‘this can’t be happening. This isn’t real.’”

He tightens his grip subconsciously around you.

“And when you told us everything she did to you…” his eyes squeeze shut, vivid images of your beaten and battered body filling his vision as more tears fall. “If I could have subjected her to an endless hell where her suffering never ceased, it would have still been too kind.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.

“It was all my fault. I kept telling myself that maybe if I didn’t fall for her advances twenty years ago, that maybe if I just ignored her like Jongho did, then maybe we never would have gotten so tangled up in her web of lies. Both Wooyoung and I-” His voice breaks as a sob wracks his chest. “If we never agreed to a relationship with her in the past, she would have had no reason to hurt you.”

“Sannie-“

“I know,” he sniffles. “I know you already told us not to think like that, but it’s true. How could it not be true?”

“You do not control other people’s actions, San.” You gently stroke your thumb over the back of his hand, your own heart rate calming with each word that you speak. “None of us do. We could have never predicted she would do this to us.”

Softly, he nods along with your words, lips pursing slightly. “Those three days you were unconscious after the fact were the worst days of our lives.”

You squeeze his hand, heart aching inside of your chest.

“None of us knew what to do.” He admits lowly. “I think it hit Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa the hardest. We didn’t know if you were going to survive. We blamed ourselves for everything. We thought-“ his breath catches and his whole body shakes with his sobs. “We thought you would want nothing to do with us anymore the moment you woke up. We thought all the memories we made together would mean nothing, and you’d go back to hating us for everything that we did to you. Even worse than before.”

Gently, you shift upwards, guiding his gaze to yours with your free hand.

“I could never hate you for what she did to me.” You stare deeply into his eyes, and you watch as his chin begins to wobble slightly from his emotions. “It is not your fault, San.”

For a split second, nothing is said between the both of you. It’s as if the entire garden goes silent, too, the flowers stilling as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

That is, until he’s collapsing into your arms. A wail tears from his chest as his entire body shakes, face buried into the side of your neck. Countless apologies fall from his lips, his fingers digging harshly into your back as he holds you close. You swear that he believes that you’ll slip right through his hands if he doesn’t.

Softly, you coo to him, your own chest stuttering every now and then from the weight of your own emotions. Though, with every breath you take, you feel better. Right now, you’re revelling in the comfort of his embrace as much as he is doing the same with you.

Looks like the both of you really needed this.

“You no longer have to apologize to me, San.” You say gently, pulling away to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You saved me, in more ways than one. You all did. Now, we just need to get passed this, and we will. Together.”

He nods softly, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.

That’s when you notice, the trickling sound of the fountain has stopped.

Sparing a glance around you, a gasp of awe nearly falls from your lips. All around you rests the water from the fountain, floating in a thin dome-like shape. Patterns dance within the water, swirling like mist around your head.

“Are you doing this?” Your once sad eyes which are now filled with wonder make him smile faintly.

“I haven’t in a long time,” he admits lowly. “This really only happens when I lose control of my emotions.”

Your eyebrows droop in worry. “Sannie-“

“It’s like a protective barrier,” he explains, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he begins to make the water swirl slightly faster around you. “Nothing can get through it right now. Well, except maybe Mingi, if he really wanted to.”

Realization crosses your features. “You did this for us.”

His gentle smile says it all.

Tenderly, you cup his face in your one hand, thumb stroking along his cheekbone as he leans into your touch.

“I want you to know that this space will never be able to hurt you again.” He breathes. “Not while I’m around to protect you. I’ll make it so that not a single drop of water can suffocate you, nor will anyone be able to force your head below the surface again.”

Slowly, he begins to trail the water back into the fountain, the familiar trickling filling the space once more.

Your heart swells in your chest, a warmth unlike anything you’ve ever felt before flooding your veins as you let his words sink in.

“And I will be here to help ease those doubts whenever you have them.” You say, staring deeply into his eyes as you do so. “Recovery is a tricky path, so no more blaming yourself for things that are both out of your control and not your fault.”

“The same goes for you, Baby,” he nudges your knee playfully with his own.

You smile faintly. “Okay.”

In one swift movement, he steals the mango from your hand. “Come on, we have some baking to do.”

You giggle, and the smile that lights up his features in response sets your heart racing.

“I’ll be right there, there’s just something I need to do first.” You stand with him, stretching out your back all the while. At the way he quirks his brow at you, you’re quick to shoo him away. “I promise I’ll be right there this time.”

“Alright,” he replies, somewhat skeptically. “I’ll go get the ingredients ready.”

“Alright, Baby,” you chuckle, watching as he disappears behind the doors to the library in the next second.

For a minute, you simply stand there, allowing the atmosphere of the garden to surround you fully for the second time that day. Then, you’re taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. There’s another male you wish to speak to right now. A male who you know cherishes this space as much as you do.

You brush lightly against that red string.

Instantly, Hongjoong appears in front of you, worry creasing his brow. Only, before he can say anything, you’re speaking.

“I’m sorry.”

You can tell he’s caught off guard by your words, for he blinks in surprise at you.

“You made this space for me, and I let her taint what it means to the both of us.” You avoid his gaze for the moment, shame washing over your entire figure as your shoulders curl in on yourself. “I know how much thought you put into this house - into everything that you do, and I was willing to push that aside because of one bad memory in this place.” You pause. “Because of her.”

“My Love-“

“When did you add the hyacinths?” Your voice is somewhat small, eyes briefly darting up to catch his gaze.

You notice he swallows thickly, averting his own gaze somewhat nervously.

“The day after everything happened.” He replies after a moment, clearing his throat all the while. “I added them as soon as I saw what she did to this place.”

You nod your understanding, heart squeezing painfully in your chest. “And the snapdragons?”

“The day after that.” His voice is rough as he now avoids your gaze.

You take a step in towards him, and you notice how his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. His hands tremble, and his eyes shine with unshed tears as you gently reach up to cup his face in your palms. Yet still, he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Hongjoong,” your expression falls the slightest bit, “please, look at me.”

Hesitantly, he complies with your wish.

“You haven’t stopped blaming yourself for this, have you?” Your tone is soft, synonymous with the tender caress of your thumbs against his cheeks. “For what she’s done. For what she continues to do to us.”

The first of his tears begin to fall from his eyes.

“How can I not?” His voice cracks, giving away just how broken he feels inside. “You couldn’t even look at certain parts of this house after she tarnished our sacred space. I should have protected you better. I should have known-”

His eyes squeeze shut, more tears falling freely down his face and onto the skin of your hands.

“It’s not your fault, Hongjoong.” You brush his tears away gently. “I made you believe it was, and I cannot apologize enough for that.”

“No-“

“I want you to be honest with me right now,” you cut him off almost instantly. “Did you think me avoiding this place was because I didn’t want to be reminded of you? Of how you thought that I felt you failed me?”

His silence speaks volumes.

“When did you really add those hyacinths, Hongjoong?” You search his gaze, feeling the way his whole being practically deflates in your hold. “I know you’re well versed in the language of flowers, and the fact that they’re purple says a lot to me.”

A brief pause as he hesitates in his response.

He looks down at his hands.

“Three days ago.” The admission feels like a condemnation on his part.

The day you got back from the dragon’s nest after falling from the sky. The day you slept for nearly twenty-four hours due to your high emotions and trauma response. The day he saw first hand just how scared of him you could be.

Your argument over how to get Jongho back probably didn’t help one bit.

“Oh, Hongjoong,” your expression falls, heart aching as you fall to your knees before him. Gently, you press your forehead to his hands, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes for the second time that day. “Words cannot express how much I regret ever making you feel like this. I was never avoiding reminders of you. I love you. I was avoiding her, but in doing so, I hurt you. I’ve never once blamed you for any of this, but I can only imagine the doubt you must have felt, especially over the last few days.”

The violent sobs that wrack his body tell you everything you need to know as he collapses to his knees in front of you. Almost instantly, he falls into your embrace, and you begin to gently card your fingers through his hair, cooing to him all the while.

“You are not responsible for any of this, Hongjoong.” You voice softly. “I’m sorry for ever making you think that, and I’m sorry I kept my true emotions from all of you. I should have been more honest with how she was affecting my memories of our spaces. Maybe then this all could have been avoided.”

You feel him shake his head against you. “You were only doing what you thought was best for you.”

“Sometimes what I want is not what I need.” You mutter. “I wanted to avoid her, and in turn I’ve been avoid our home and all of you. What I needed was to realize that, and to understand that nothing has changed. The only variant was her, and you have all ensured that she cannot hurt me anymore.”

“Nothing will ever hurt you again.” He tightens his grip around you, managing to get his breathing back under control. “Not while I’m here to protect you.”

You chuckle fondly. “It seems all of you share that sentimentality.”

He cracks a halfhearted grin. “So it would seem.”

As they should. As they always will. Even if it’s the last thing they ever do.

You hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry, My Love,” you breathe out, making sure to keep your voice low as you bury your face into the side of his neck. “I won’t allow her to get in-between us again.”

Turning his head slightly, Hongjoong presses his lips against the side of your temple. He lets his kiss linger for a while, holding you to him as if you may just slip right through his arms if he doesn’t.

“I appreciate you saying all of this to me, My Love,” he hums, finally managing to get his emotions back under control. “You have eased my mind more than you’ll ever know.”

The corners of your lips twitch upwards, a brief memory of your shared conversation flitting through your mind from the last time the two of you had a heart to heart in the garden.

“All is well between us now, My Love.” He places another kiss to the side of your temple. “At least, I think it is.”

He pulls away to stare into your eyes, searching your gaze for any signs you might be hiding something from him again. Something that you believe might burden him if you admit to.

“I think so, too,” you smile faintly, leaning in to peck his cheek lightly.

“I believe there are some others that might benefit from a conversation like this with you, too.” He says casually, standing back to his feet and helping you back to yours almost immediately

“I believe you’re right.” You hum, settling into the comfort of his embrace with his arm around your shoulders. “For now, San is expecting me in the kitchen.”

Hongjoong quirks a brow, “Is he, now?”

“We’re baking cookies.” You grin, wiggling excitedly in his hold.

“Finally succumbing to his desires of cooking with you, are you?” Hongjoong teases.

“I was the one who suggested it.” You reply, beginning to exit the garden with Hongjoong right beside you.

He laughs, “Even better.”

Your brow quirks, somewhat knowingly. “I have a feeling that he’s not the only one with those types of more… domestic desires.”

“No, he most certainly isn’t.” Hongjoong grins. “I’m quite certain we all have things we wish to indulge in with you at some point that aren’t apart of our greater indulgences.”

“Everything I do with you guys feels like a greater indulgence,” you admit. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been this spoiled in my life.”

Hongjoong smiles wide as you both enter the kitchen together.

“Get used to it, Baby,” San glances up from the counter where he’s already taken the liberty to lay out some bowls and baking ingredients. A grin tugs at his lips, an eagerness unlike anything you’ve seen before shines within his eyes. “We enjoy pleasing you more than you’ll ever know.”

It’s slight, but you cannot help the way your breath hitches in your throat. Though, what really gets you is the not so innocent smile San sends your way as you meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah.” You huff out a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes. “It’s the corset pictures all over again.”

The two males share a look.

“Well, if you’re offering…” Hongjoong grins deviously.

You slap his arm teasingly, mouth parting in shock, “Joongie!”

“You’re the one who brought them up,” San singsongs from behind the counter.

You shake your head, a loving smile pulling at your lips as you separate from Hongjoong in order to join San behind the counter. You can hear them chuckle as you mutter to yourself about your ‘damn horny Kings’ once more.

Not even a minute later, Hongjoong takes his leave. Well, it’s more of San pointedly glaring at him until Hongjoong casually says that he has some other things to attend to. You laugh at this, poking San on his cheek again as you tease him about monopolizing all of your alone time.

“Is it that bad that I want you all to myself sometimes, Baby?” He wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the side of your neck all the while.

“Not at all,” you hum, practically melting into his embrace.

The next hour is spent with him in the kitchen, laughing and joking around as you teach him how to make your favourite cookies. Every word you speak, every instruction you give him, he listens to eagerly, insisting that he do all of the heavy mixing. It’s only when the cookies are finally in the oven, you standing at the sink cleaning what you can of the used dishes, that you feel him step up behind you once more.

“I love you.” His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, his chest pressed firmly against your back as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

You smile, relaxing into his touch. “I love you, too, Sannie.”

“Thank you, for indulging in multiple of my hobbies with me today.” He says lowly, squeezing your waist a little bit tighter. “It truly means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“Of course, Baby.” You turn your head just as he rests his chin on your shoulder, managing to place a tender kiss onto the side of his cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. I’m just glad we finally got to.”

He giggles, a large grin spreading across his face as he holds you close. Even when you finally finish the dishes, and the timer dings on the stove, he refuses to let you go.

“Sannie! My cookies!” You whine, though it comes out more of a laugh than anything.

“What about them?” He hums, waddling around the kitchen with you in his arms.

“They’re going to burn!”

He shakes his head against your own. “No, they won’t.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s removed the trays from the oven, setting the cookies aside to cool. Another blink, and he’s back to holding you in his arms as the oven cools down.

“You’re worse than a koala.” You tease, poking his arm lightly.

He whines in response, a pout tugging at his lips that you manage to catch in the reflection of the glass paneling of the cupboards. “I’m the cutest koala, though, right?”

You chuckle, “If you say so.”

A loud, scandalized gasp escapes him. “I’m the cutest koala, and you know it!”

“Do I?” You hum, clearly amused by his antics.

“I’m not letting you go until you admit that I’m your cutest koala.” He tightens his grip, burying his face into the side of your neck once more. Only this time, he begins placing tender kisses against your skin, managing to tickle you all the while.

You begin to squirm in his grip, desperately attempting to free yourself as you giggle.

“Okay, okay!” You practically melt into his embrace. “You’re my cutest koala.”

You can feel the smirk that pulls onto his lips as his chest shakes in laughter. “Victory.”

“Now, will you let me go so I can finally taste our baking?” You struggle to waddle yourself over to the now (hopefully) cooled cookies on the rack.

Instantly, he’s in front of you, offering a cookie to you while he holds one for himself in his other hand. Graciously, you take it, breaking it in half and smiling at the softness that greets you. The inside is still a bit warm, too.

“I can see why these are your favourite,” he hums, nodding in approval as the sweet treat melts in his mouth.

“Looks like you owe another thing to Reina,” you joke, popping the rest of your cookie into your mouth.

“Maybe I’ll help you set her up with Sudaem in thanks.” San wiggles his brows suggestively.

Your brow quirks eagerly, “I like the way you think.”

Grabbing a plate from the cupboard, you place some cookies on top of it. You have some other males you wish to see before the day is done, and besides, you didn’t just make these for you.

The way each male’s eyes light up as you peek your head into their spaces, bringing with you a plate of cookies has your heart warming. San, of course, follows behind you like an overexcited puppy, revelling in his brother’s praises of your baking as much as you are.

Honestly, you’re just glad that they’re enjoying the sweets so much. So much so, in fact, that you see both Jongho and Wooyoung fighting over the ones you left untouched in the kitchen when you return. Never would any of you have expected Yeosang to be the one to swoop in and steal the plate right from their hands, though.

The chase that ensued was comical, ending with a broken plate and scattered cookie crumbs across the floor. You swear you even see Seonghwa shed a tear when he walks out of his tailor shop to see the catastrophe right before his eyes.

“Don’t worry, boys,” you chuckle. “I can go make more.”

Which is exactly how you find yourself making a few more dozen batches with San, both Wooyoung and Mingi eagerly sitting at the counter the whole time to keep you two company.

Truly, you’re grateful for moments like these. They make you remember that everything will be okay, even if the path you’re walking is still uncertain. The fact that they’ll all be with you every step of the way only makes it that much sweeter, your heart warming as you simply enjoy the moment with Your Kings that this evening brings.

The next day, you spend training with both Mingi and Hongjoong. You want to get out some pent up frustration, and the practice had been long overdue. Luckily, you do not do anything too intensive, simply going over everything that you’ve already learned, and working to perfect it as best as you can.

You all agree that it would be best to save the teaching of new techniques for next week.

The day after that, you brave Yunho’s art room. The exchange is just as emotional as the garden, the two of you falling into each other’s embrace for comfort as you are so prone to do. It is much needed, and you find that with each space that you reclaim, you can feel yourself regaining parts of yourself that you had thought you had lost.

Well, perhaps not lost, per se, but those parts that have now undergone a strong rebirth.

Now, you are stronger, and feeling much more secure in both yourself and your relationships with all of them. Although everything is still a bit rocky, you’re happy with the progress that you’re making, and you just know that they feel the exact same way as you.

Over the next three days, you rotate where you spend your time. One day is spent in the garden, Mingi being the one to join you this time. The next is spent with Yunho again in his art room. He claimed to want to paint you again, and you certainly were not going to deny him. The final day is spent with both Jongho and Hongjoong in the library, simply relaxing in each other’s comforting presence as you spent the time reading together.

Each day, you feel better, until a full week has passed since that day in the garden with San.

There’s a funny feeling in your chest when you wake up that morning, a sort of tightness you haven’t felt in a while. A tightness which you think you’re starting to understand.

It’s time to let go.

Taking a deep breath in, you exit your room.

The steps that you take down the hallway are careful, each movement precise as you approach the two rooms that rest at the end. The moment you reach the one door, you peer through the window, noticing how the lights seem to be turned off. No one appears to be using the studio for the moment, and before you can open the door, you stop yourself.

Suddenly, your mouth goes dry, and your hand which had been hovering above the handle slowly retracts back to your side. You don’t even need to look down to feel the tremble in your hand.

Perhaps you’ll do the other thing you had in mind first, and take it from there.

Turning back to face the end of the hallway, you walk towards the music room. Not much has changed about the space since the last time you saw it, save for the brand new baby grand piano that sits near the large bay windows. Even Yeosang’s violin rests in its regular spot, perfectly placed and shining in the light of the midmorning sun.

You smile softly to yourself, remembering the very first time he played for you.

Turning back to the piano, you slowly approach the bench. Gently, your hand trails over the lid, propping it open carefully as you attempt to keep your hands from shaking.

You are safe.

She can’t hurt you anymore.

Tugging the bench out, you sit before the keys, feeling a comforting brush of fur against your leg. Looking down reveals Kuroo staring up at you with those wide, golden eyes of his. Of course, he’s quick to hop onto the window bench, curling up in the exact same position that he was in the very first time that you played in this room.

You think back on that now, and what it meant to you then.

Gosh, you feel like an entirely different person now compared to only a few months ago. Then again, you probably are.

You spare a glance down at the keys.

That most certainly isn’t a bad thing. After all, this time when you play, you’ll be playing for you.

Taking another deep breath in, you begin.

You start with a familiar favourite like always, the opening notes of Moonlight Sonata filling the room as you lose yourself to the music.

For about forty minutes, you go through multiple classical pieces you’ve known since you were young, allowing the melodies to surround you and comfort you like they always have. You fumble a few times on certain songs that you haven’t played in a while, but you have long since stopped caring. Right now, this is for you, and you aren’t attempting to be perfect. In fact, that’s the whole point.

Though, that’s not all you came here to do.

For a brief moment, you pause, allowing the stillness of the silence of the room to settle over you. You take the time to stretch out your back, cracking your knuckles while you’re at it before straightening in your seat. There are two more songs you wish to perform for yourself as a final goodbye to the person you once were, and everything that you’ve been through. Only, you know that the lyrics can be taken a certain way, and the last thing you want is for any of them to believe that you’re singing about them.

So, you tell them.

These next songs aren’t about you. You drop your void for the moment. These are for me. So please, do not think the words are aimed at any of you. I need this. For me.

Alright, Petal, It’s Yunho who answers you first. We understand.

You smile, somewhat sorrowfully. Thank you.

Just as you go to close your void, you hesitate. Then, probably against your better judgement, you decide to leave it down for the time being. After all, you did promise to be more open with them about your emotions going forward.

The opening notes to Adele’s Someone Like You fill the room not even a moment later. You begin to perform for yourself, for the life you lost, and for the person who you are sure to become.

The perspective you decide to take with this song is your current self singing to your past self. The past self that you lost when Miyeon finally broke you is finally being acknowledged, and, oh, how fitting some of the lyrics seem to be to your exact situation.

You never thought you would settle down, so to say, but you were proved wrong in the best of ways.

Looking into mirrors the first few days and seeing your face shortly after the incident had happened had been a challenge. Every time you saw yourself, it felt as if you were looking at a ghost. A ghost of yourself that you hadn’t realized you needed to let go of in order to begin healing like you so badly needed to do.

“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you,” Your old self will continue to strengthen your current self. After all, people do not change over night. However, that being said, you need to let your past self go in order to thrive in the present.

“I wish nothing but the best for you, too.” Now, you picture yourself having a conversation with your old self, her saying this to you in your current state.

“Don’t forget me, I beg,” Still your past self urging you never to forget the good memories you’ve always had with her.

“I’ll remember, you said.” Your current self reassuring your past self that you’ll never forget, but you’ll still be okay.

“Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards, a sense of melancholy settling over your being as you continue into the second verse.

The whole time you sing, your thoughts and feelings echo shameless through each of their minds. Graciously, they follow along with your journey, tears gathering in their eyes as they see you talking to yourself and assuring yourself in ways that they know only you can.

No matter what, they will still support you in whatever ways that they can. Right now, they will do so by listening and understanding all that you are doing for yourself through your music. Yet, there is no denying that all of you understand that you are saying goodbye to your past self in your own way.

The second you reach the final verse, your own tears begin to fall. Saying goodbye to a part of yourself that you had been stolen from you, that had been torn from your very soul is no easy task. However, with each word you sing, you feel a weight lifting from your chest. Slowly, you begin to feel lighter, and by the time the final notes ring out in the room, your smile has brightened, and you can breathe a bit easier.

Now, for the final, and possibly most important song.

This time, when the opening notes for Panic! At the Disco’s This Is Gospel ring out, you imagine that it’s the part of yourself that you are saying goodbye to singing to your current self, reassuring you that everything will be okay.

With each note, your voice becomes stronger, solidifying who you are in this moment, and who you are surely bound to become.

“If you love me, let me go.” The tears you had managed to get under control only minutes before stream freely down your face as you repeat the phrase of the song once more.

This song has always meant a lot to you, and now that you can fully apply it to your current situation, you find the lyrics truly resonating with you. Especially the next ones that fall from your lips, “The fear of falling apart.”

This is you telling yourself that everything will be okay.

“I won’t give up without a fight.” There is extra emphasis put on those words in particular, even if you are currently unaware of that fact.

With every note that you hit, and every word you sing, your voice becomes stronger. The music rises in a crescendo as you finally break free of all of your past worries and doubts. Finally, you lay your old self to rest, and as the final notes ring out through the air, you feel like a newer, stronger person.

You close your void.

For five minutes, you simply sit there at that piano, letting everything you’ve just expelled through your playing linger around you in the room. A soft smile rests on your features as you keep your eyes closed, wiping at your final tears that cling to your cheeks.

For the first time in a long time, your head is clear, and those lingering fears and doubts begin to recede.

The feeling of a gentle hand placing itself onto your back makes you jump slightly. Turning your body, you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang standing behind you, tears of his own having cut tracks down the side of his face.

“Dearest-“

You nearly knock over the bench as you stand to your feet, wrapping him in your arms as he does the same for you. He holds you tightly, cradling the back of your head gently in his hand as you bury your face into the side of his neck. Soothingly, he caresses your spine.

“Thank you,” he swallows thickly, “for sharing this with us.”

You tighten your grip around him, a peaceful smile pulling at your lips.

“Thank you for listening.”

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