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revehae · 3 months

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hurts so good (2)

pairing ↠ mark x you x jeno

genre .. warnings ↠ unprotected sex, degradation, slapping, impact play, cheating, cuckolding without the marriage, brief mention of nonconsented recording

summary ↠ jeno proves to be the perfect remedy to your bedroom problems with mark, but not without cost. the longer you lie to your perfect boyfriend, the more guilt builds like a plaque in your chest. but is it enough to make you set aside your pleasure?

wc ↠ 3.9k

a/n ↠ this the second and final part of a repost. part one here! happy readings lovelies!

don’t like it, don’t read.

“fuck,” you moaned.

“don’t talk.”

you bit your bleeding lip, trying hard to comply in spite of knowing your attempts would be in vain and you would ultimately earn yourself a smack. later you would have to explain to mark why you had a bruise on your bottom lip, and likely the rest of you, but you were of no mind to be worried about that right now.

not when jeno was currently pounding you out against a wall.

you met his heavy stare. even his gaze made you feel small and dainty, like you could break if he just looked at you for too long. looking at you, jeno thought the same thing. you were such a pretty, fragile little thing, but you liked being broken just as much as he liked breaking you.

you wanted to loathe how good jeno made you feel in spite of hurting you all the while, but your body couldn’t lie and you were clenching around his thick cock, fighting back the most pathetic of whimpers. he was dangerously deep inside you, borderline fucking you into the wall as he tried to coax himself even deeper.

“jeno,” you cried out at a particular thrust, your back roughly hitting the wall. like he was of a mind to force you through it.

your legs tightly coiled around his waist, drawing him into you like you were afraid of letting go, gave jeno the perfect opportunity to wrap his hands around your throat, hissing, “i said shut up. i’m not afraid of choking you unconscious if it means you’ll shut that big mouth.”

one of your arms dangled from his neck, and you used one to weakly try to pry his hands off your throat, though to no avail. jeno was stronger than you could ever dream to be. “i can’t… jeno, i…,” you choked out, struggling to speak and breathe.

jeno chuckled darkly, tightening his grip. “you can’t what, baby? say it. i fucking dare you.”

though you tried, it was difficult given that jeno had you pinned to the wall by your throat. you loved how effortlessly cruel he could get, firmening his hold because he knew damn well what you were trying to say.

he knew that you were struggling to breathe, and he didn’t care, cruel enough to choke you out even harder. you adored his cruelness because it was everything you wanted and everything you knew you could never have in the long run. he was your biggest, most tantalizing temptation. when you left his apartment that day, you told yourself over and over that it couldn’t happen again, but you knew when you looked jeno in the eye after he came inside you that this couldn’t be a one-time thing.

and so it happened again. a few more times.

you were beginning to lose count of how many times you had made the poor decision of getting into bed with him again (or, in this case, onto a wall), but you tried to fight off the urge and ultimately succumbed to your need for twisted pleasure. a kind you could only find in jeno.

it made you feel bad when you lied to mark, a gut-wrenching feeling that made you bristle with self-disgust. don’t lie to me. that’s the worst thing you can do, said his sweet voice, replaying on repeat like a mantra in your head. you could see the look on his face when he found out, the sting of betrayal. with his best friend, no less. but you were too far gone to stop now.

the most sickening part was that you had a terrible feeling that mark wouldn’t even want to break up with you, he wouldn’t fault you. he would beat himself over it and find fault in himself, which was even worse because he had done nothing wrong.

so why were you letting jeno have what you swore to mark was only his - why did you keep running back?

you had tried to break things with jeno off, to restrain yourself and be a good girlfriend, but it never lasted for very long. it got to the point where whenever you told jeno that it had to be the last time, he would merely laugh in your face and scoff that you weren’t going anywhere.

he knew you too well. much like mark. it made you contemplate.

jeno let you breathe when you tapped his fist with your fingers and you sucked in a large breath like it was the last time you would ever inhale again. you never really knew with him.

“know a girl like you can’t keep quiet,” jeno said snidely. “feels too good, doesn’t it? you like being fucked like a whore too much to shut up.”

you tried to say no, to save what was left of your pride, but only a squeaky noise rose from the back of your throat.

jeno asked teasingly, “do you get this noisy with mark too, or just me?”

you didn’t want to answer, face hot with shame because you knew the answer and it didn’t in any way make you look good. jeno, of course, already knew the answer. he had heard enough about you and mark’s sexcapades from both sides. he just wanted to hear it from your own mouth.

jeno grabbed your hair, not in any way gentle, and growled, “that was a question. don’t act all shy now.”

“no,” you whispered.

jeno scrunched his brows as if he couldn’t hear you, pulling your hair even rougher. “what was that, baby?”

“no,” you cried out, partially from how forceful he was. “just you, jeno.”

jeno merely laughed and released his hold again. you swore it gave him some kind of ego boost to know he fucked you better than mark. you wondered if he cared, given that he was just as guilty as you for sleeping with his best friend’s girlfriend on more than one occasion, but he never seemed to give a damn. part of you envied his carefree nature, but another part of you wondered how he could be so shameless.

not that it mattered. you knew as well as he did that it wouldn’t stop you from crawling back.

“you’re the prettiest like this, you know,” jeno whispered, though not necessarily meaning it affectionately. “when you look like you’re falling apart, all these marks all over your body.”

you were so close to orgasm it was mind-numbing. and jeno was unintentionally going to be what brought you to the end, dangling over the edge.

“you’re close,” jeno stated, not even needing to ask. it was both awful and astonishing that he learned to recognize the signs. once upon a time, only mark knew your body that intimately.

you nodded. then, begged, “can i please cum?”

“cum around my dick, princess. just moan my name when you do,” was all he had to say in retort.

and a couple of moments later, you were doing as told, arms looped around his neck as you clang to him and your legs tightening just below his ribs. you sang jeno’s name, and the cry was so sweet it brought about his own climax, an even sweeter sound leaving you when you felt his load inside you.

then, jeno carried you over to his bed in his brawny arms and threw you on top of his mattress to fuck those sounds out of you again. and likely all of your sense.

“we really need to stop,” you told jeno after a couple of rounds.

jeno groaned, half-tempted to duck tape your lips. “you keep saying that. then, you hit my phone when you need a fuck and you’re on my dick again. make up your damn mind.”

“but i like it too much,” you whined.

“i could have told you that.”

you gave him a look.

“listen, it’s not my fault you keep spreading your legs for me. what the fuck do you want me to do when you’re the one begging me to fuck the shit out of you? tell you no?”

yes, because someone needs to control me. i can’t do it myself, you mused, having no rein on yourself whatsoever. your urges had a mind of their own. you couldn’t be the one to make yourself stop, and if he didn’t, then nobody would.

“don’t you feel the least bit guilty?” you asked, sorrow in your eyes. post-nut clarity was a bitch.

jeno shrugged. no, was the simple answer, but he didn’t feel like explaining himself right now. “is guilt stopping you from lying in my bed right now?”

“this isn’t about me,” you groaned.

jeno laughed at that. “please. this is all about you,” he said. “i’m the middleman here. i’ve only been doing what you wanted.”

“you should stop doing that.”

“then, leave,” jeno said nonchalantly, picking up his phone as he pretended not to care. “you act like i’m making you stay here. you have free will. but i bet you’ll be back in no time at all.”

and you were.

it was maddening that he was always right. what the hell were you thinking? you couldn’t give something as good him up for another girl to fuck, because you knew you could be replaced in no time. you couldn’t even convince yourself that you didn’t want him.

god, you had only been fucking him for a week and you were already addicted.

one night, you crawled into bed with mark after a hot shower, washing away jeno’s scent. you were facing mark, just staring at each other with complete awe, but a tear fell from your eyes.

mark immediately fretted, kissing your cheek chastely like he knew to and asked, “why are you crying?”

you shook your head. you couldn’t tell him. it would break you. “no reason,” you lied, whispering. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” mark said without a second of hesitation. he knew in his soul that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “i love you more than anything.”

don’t make this harder on me, you whispered to yourself, falling apart as you let your hand touch his pretty face. mark smiled at your touch, and you gave him a smile back. on nights like this, you could pretend everything was alright.

on the other end, mark didn’t know how to feel. you really thought he was a fool. and maybe he was. maybe he was foolishly in love with you, and that was why he pretended to not know. it was almost better that way.

he was still thinking about last friday.

how’d it go?

how do you think?

she’s glowing. what did you do?

it’s not that hard, mark. all you gotta do is slap her around a little.

i’ll keep that in mind.

still on for friday?

you bet.

wanna see?

mark furrowed his brows. what is there to see?

[jeno sent one attachment] when you jack off to that later, don’t let her see.

mark’s jaw slacked when he realized what the video was. you recorded it? what the fuck, dude?

you’re welcome.

you never noticed the far from perfectly hidden red flashing light, especially not bent over, too absorbed in how perfect jeno had been making you feel. mark had been reluctant to open it at first, but ultimately caved in to temptation, and he had gotten off to it countless times since then.

it made no sense how beautiful you looked being fucked into oblivion by a man that wasn’t him.

on friday when mark left to run errands, you were back at jeno’s door. he gave you a scan. he could feel your anxiety from a mile away.

“don’t say a goddamn word,” you hissed, walking past him and into his house.

jeno closed the door behind you, chuckling in amusement. and as if he didn’t hear you, said, “i gotta give you some credit. it’s been like, what, five days? you lasted a lot longer than i thought you would.”

you narrowed your eyes at him and snarled, “didn’t i just say…”

jeno cut you off with a kiss, backing you into a wall. it was intense and greedy, and you could barely keep up, letting him take the lead while his hands roamed all over your body. the more you moaned into jeno’s mouth, the rougher he kissed you. if you didn’t know any better, you would say he had been impatient himself.

you were both shirtless by the time he had pulled away from you, and your bra was thrown across his sofa in the heat of the kiss. you could see the arousal in his eyes, feel it in his touch, and it was driving you mad.

“i’m tired of listening to you,” jeno growled into your ear, breath against your neck. “you’re gonna do what i want.”

all you could do was nod. jeno crashed his lips against yours again and kissed you the whole way to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

you were so engrossed in the way his lips felt on yours that you didn’t even notice the other man in the room.

“breathe,” jeno told you when he pulled back, chuckling.

you giggled, trying to catch your breath, but when you caught a glance of the bed through the corner of your eye, you nearly leapt out of your skin, shrieking, “mark?”

mark was silently sitting on jeno’s bed, eyes fixed to you. the look on his face was so unreadable that you couldn’t tell what kind of thoughts were running through his mind and you were borderline afraid to. your heart was racing quicker than you thought healthy. you glanced at jeno, baffled, but he merely gazed back at you with a smirk.

you stiffened. “mark, i... i thought you were… what are you…”

“i overestimated you. i thought you were smarter than this,” jeno teased, shaking his head.

you were frozen in your skin, scared to speak.

“well, i technically was running an errand because i was talking to jeno about something, but you got here earlier than expected,” mark mumbled.

jeno chipped in, “in other words, you’re so needy you did all the heavy lifting for us.”

“i… don’t understand?”

jeno threw his head back. “how much more do i have to dumb it down for you? mark knew about us this whole time. he set you up.”

you paralyzed with cold realization. it was all beginning to add up now. jeno’s nonchalance and detachment in contrast to your nerves. he’ll be glad it’s just me instead of somebody else, jeno had once told you. to which you replied, you say that like mark himself told you that.

because he did.

you covered your tits, throwing mark a fretful glance.

mark knew you better than anyone and spoke up before you could, “i’m not mad.”

“why?” you asked. he should have been furious. he should have ended things with you then and there, if not a long time ago.

mark met your eyes tenderly and whispered, “because i just want you to be happy.”

this fucking loser, jeno scoffed to himself. “because he gets off to knowing somebody else is getting you off,” jeno added. “you know he asks me every detail of every fuck we have? he’s just as freaky as you.”

mark flustered. and so did you. maybe you were a match made in heaven.

“you both annoy the shit out of me,” jeno said, deadpan. then, he leaned into you and asked quietly, “wanna give your boyfriend a show?”

it was jeno touching you, but your eyes were fixed to mark. at those words, you noticed the slightest bit of excitement become visible in your boyfriend. what he couldn’t conceal, you saw glimmer in his eyes. so, without breaking eye contact with mark, you nodded.

“good girl,” jeno praised, before switching on a dime and growling, “bed.”

you knew what that meant. with no hesitation at all, you climbed into bed and mark gawked in astonishment at how quickly you presented yourself in a perfect arch at jeno’s command. he had you completely trained to bend to his will as if you were some sort of pet.

jeno was right behind you, grinning with unadulterated pride. he knew you belonged to mark, but you were also his now in some sick, twisted way. and he wasn’t about to give you back up. “good. you’re already watching each other,” jeno commented, amused. “don’t take your eyes off of him.”

“or else what?”

jeno grabbed you by the throat, but it wasn’t harsh at all, much more like a warning. “fuck around and find out,” he replied darkly.

that sent a shiver down your spine.

mark watched jeno position himself behind you, silent as could be. jeno slipped your panties to the side, not bothering to prepare you in spite of his size. he couldn’t imagine it. to mark, you were like some deity than deserved absolute worship. you moaned when jeno pushed inside you, tempted to tip your head, but fought it for now.

mark could feel his heart racing and arousal gripping him by the throat. he couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about this that made him mad with lust.

your lips parted, tears making your eyes burn. you could still feel the lingering bruises jeno had left on your body that you desperately tried to hide from mark, because not only were they proof of your trysts, but mark would probably kill anybody that hurt you. except for jeno, apparently.

“she’s so tight, mark,” jeno groaned like you weren’t even there. “it’s like she gets tighter every time she runs back to me. do you ever fuck her?”

“it’s been a while,” mark said, sucking in a breath. he was getting hard.

“clearly,” jeno mumbled.

you whimpered, nails digging into the sheets to anchor yourself when jeno picked up his pace. which wasn’t after long. he was fucking you into the mattress before you even knew it yourself, making it all too difficult to hold eye contact with mark, and you broke it, glancing downwards. it was an impossible challenge from the start, that all three of you knew.

“jeno,” you whined, trying to pry his fingers from your hips.

jeno glanced down at you, seeing what you were doing, and asked, “where does it hurt? here?”

you bobbed your head.

instead of making an effort to be more careful, jeno pressed his fingers down on the bruise, chuckling to himself when you cried out in a mixture of pain and shock. “eyes up, princess,” he whispered icily.

you brought your eyes back to your boyfriend’s, silently observing each other with a kind of telepathic communication. you had mastered that art in the past couple of years. there was no need for words.

it was lewd and taboo. never had you done anything that felt as wrong as this; letting your boyfriend’s best friend fuck you right in front of his face, watching each other the whole time. but he made no move to stop either of you, merely standing there like a complete fool.

ironically, you were starting to understand each other better that way.

you looked pathetic as ever right now, tears rolling down your eyes in a stream. you made the wise choice not to wear makeup today, but jeno wished you would have. he always loved the look of streaks of black mascara running down your cheeks. it made you look even more ruined. but you never got like this for mark; most of the time, it was you ruining him. you liked making mark fall apart without doing much at all.

though to be far, you had never seen this side of mark either. had you known he liked it that much, that would have made everything a hell of a lot easier.

maybe this new situation could mutually benefit the three of you. you loved the grunts jeno made when he was pressed deep inside you, dragging his cock against your velvet walls. you liked when he put his hands on you and you could feel the sting for days. and you knew jeno loved fucking you, almost as if he couldn’t get enough of your body.

“harder,” you cried.

jeno cocked a brow. “you want it harder? you look like you’re about to break, princess.”

all you had to say to that was a hoarse, “break me.”

that jeno had every intention of, with or without your blessing.

mark was painfully hard at this point and made a move to take his clothes off, but jeno interrupted, “don’t touch yourself.”

mark shot him a look, flabbergasted and unsure if he should have listened or not.

jeno beckoned him to approach the two of you. it was as if he had taken control of your relationship now. he flipped you onto your back, resulting in you emitting a loud sound of surprise. “hit her, mark,” jeno commanded, watching your face tense. “do it.”

mark stammered, “i… i can’t.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake. must i do everything for you?” jeno groaned, irritated. “it’s easy. i’ll show you.”

the pleasure of knowing he was about to hit you fused with the pain of his palm on your cheek and blended into something inexplicably erotic.

“see, the freaky little bitch likes it,” jeno commented, pointing out the dazed look on your face. “your turn.”

mark hesitated. he never wanted to hurt you, that was why he had gotten jeno to do the job. well, part of the reason. inwardly uttering a couple of motivational words to himself, mark gave you a weak smack to your cheek.

“lame,” jeno deadpanned. “but progress is progress.”

“harder, mark,” you whimpered, smiling up at him. “please? for me?”

mark could never tell you no when you looked at him like that, begging him with that sweet voice. so he gave in, hitting you again, even harder. you made a noise, face turning to the other side, which worried mark before he ultimately realized it was a sound of pleasure.

jeno laughed, on the verge of applause. “would you look at that.”

“did you like it?” mark asked bashfully. curse his need for validation.

“mm-hm,” you hummed, sighing out in content.

mark smiled a tiny bit and his eyes fell down the rest of your body, spotting bruise after bruise. he had to give you credit; you had done an amazing job at concealing them, though the lack of sex definitely helped. now that you were naked, they were everywhere. apparently, jeno only put them in areas where they wouldn’t be immediately visible. he started to kiss them, one after the other, and much to your surprise, his tenderness somehow brought you even closer to finish.

“i’m so close,” you told no one in particular, merely putting it out there.

“come on, baby. show mark what it’s really like when you cum,” jeno said, grabbing a handful of your hair. “gonna let me fill you up with your boyfriend right there?”

you could do nothing but nod. you were chasing relief, chasing satiation.

then, the thread snapped, and you came hard as ever. jeno was whispering mean words in your ear and all the while, mark was showing your body in affections, the contrast strong enough to give you whiplash. you moaned when you felt jeno finally cum inside you, and he pulled out to watch it drip from your stuffed cunt.

jeno glanced to mark and asked tauntingly, “need another tutorial or do you got it this time?”

you tried to catch your breath. maybe you could get used to this.

#lee jeno smut #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream scenarios #revehae fics

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everyonewooeverywhere · 3 months

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms.

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take.

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours.

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n?

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar.

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time.

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand.

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line.

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable.

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food.

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you.

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head.

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed.

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you.

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm.

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat.

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom.

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged.

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

#ateez #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho scenario #ateez angst #everyonewooeverywhere

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vienssunshine · 7 months

Note

Thoughts on soft dom noritoshi kamo?

I’m a sucker for him and it’s like no one else relates AHH

author’s note: He does not get enough love!! I remember seeing him in the anime and being like, wait, why is no one obsessed with him?

Noritoshi is incredibly picky about his lover. His spouse needs to be perfect if he’s going to become the head of the Kamo clan. There’s been many women of other distinguished clans his family has tried to set him up with, but no one stuck out to him. No one ever has. That is, until you transferred to Kyoto’s Jujutsu High.

You’re a new student that’s old enough to be a third-year like him, but you’ve been bumped down to a second-year as your sorcery powers awakened a little later than usual.

In hopes of not getting you killed on your first mission, Utahime assigns a student to mentor you. She chooses the most responsible and level-headed of the young sorcerers: Noritoshi Kamo.

He’s a student she can trust, someone she knows will be able to help you navigate the confusing world of Jujutsu and blossom into a formidable sorcerer. Only, she hasn’t accounted for one thing: Noritoshi has developed a crush on you.

That little fact makes it hard for Noritoshi to spend so much alone time with you, which it feels like is all he does. He studies with you, eats with you, reads with you. Training with you is the worst of it all, he has trouble remembering to check your form rather than check out your body when you try out a new move for him.

It was especially terrible when you asked him to go on a walk during the sunset, to discuss the new concepts you’ve been learning with him, of course. Though, all he could think of was how much he wanted to do this with you every evening for the rest of his life.

He’s noticed that you seem to enjoy his company, too. You have a habit of tugging on the draping fabric of his uniform’s sleeves when you’re trying to convince him to do something with you, which is pretty much all the time.

It’s what you’re doing now, looking up at him with your pretty eyes and trying to get him to follow you.

“C’mon,” you whine, “I have a question about a cursed tool I saw.”

He has some time before his next class starts, and also finds it difficult to deny a pretty girl like yourself, so he agrees and follows you to the weapons room.

Though, when you arrive, you close the door behind you, leaning against it and watching him with a heavy gaze.

Noritoshi looks around the dark room with walls of blades and blunt objects. “Is there something you wanted me to help you with?” he asks, like the good mentor he is.

“Yes, there is,” you respond, voice silken. You tug at your uniform, allowing the top of your shirt to come loose and expose your skin to the light of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

It takes him a second, but Noritoshi steps forward. He wants to make sure that he’s not confusing his dreams with reality or misunderstanding what you’re saying. “Tell me how I can help,” he says.

You give him a bashful smile, playing with the opened collar of your uniform. “I want you to touch me, Noritoshi.”

“So clear with your words,” he says, bringing a hand up to your warm face, stroking your cheek, “I’ve been teaching you well.”

You nod, a tingly feeling sparking in your stomach.

“I could teach you more, y’know,” he says, tilting his head and leaning forward so his lips ghost the shell of your ear, “but you would have to be a really good listener. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm,” you say, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

“Alright,” he says, hands unbuttoning your top further, “Then I’m going to teach you how it feels to be fucked by a Kamo.”

#jjk smut #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi smut #noritoshi x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk noritoshi

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phoenixkaptain · 6 months

Text

A story like Thousand Autumns is very subtle in its romance.

Shen Qiao has only ever known his sect. He knows it very well, because of this fact. He knows the people, he knows the rules, he knows the daily doings and who is doing them. He knows every blade of grass and every stone. He’s like a lonely mountain flower, on the highest peak, unseen by any but a few birds and unknowing that there’s more it might never know.

When he finds himself away from his sect for the first time, he’s confused. At most, he’s gone to the base of the mountain, maybe the fields surrounding that, but no further. The flower was plucked and tossed aside.

For a man stumbling blindly in the world, literally and figuratively, there really isn’t a better guide than one that knows just about everything. And that’s, without a doubt, Yan Wushi.

Yan Wushi has lived longer than Shen Qiao, has been more places than Shen Qiao, and has fought more battles than Shen Qiao. Yan Wushi is the perfect example of something out of reach even for someone out of reach. He’s the only one who could answer any questions asked of him, but especially the questions that Shen Qiao would want to ask him.

And there’s no question in my mind that Yan Wushi doesn’t fall for Shen Qiao at first sight, but he’s certainly attracted to him. Not in an overtly sexual or emotional way, but Yan Wushi, the way his character is set up? It’s impossible for him not to be fascinated by Shen Qiao.

He knows Shen Qiao is the very picture of a peerless immortal. He’s well aware that Shen Qiao is considered untouchable by even the people closest to Shen Qiao. He’s most aware that Shen Qiao is Qi Fengge’s (coughhndisputedcough) favourite disciple, and honestly that’s enough for him to overwhemingly want to mess with Shen Qiao.

There are a lot of reasons for Yan Wushi to fall for Shen Qiao. Most of the people in the novel fall for Shen Qiao, after all, there is a precedent.

But the one I’ve seen questioned is Shen Qiao’s affection for Yan Wushi. Where does it come from? When did it start? Does Shen Qiao even fucking like that asshole?

The easy answer is: yes, he does. The novel tells us that. Shen Qiao, despite everything, does fall for Yan Wushi’s, um, “charms” in the end. This is made clear.

But why? A thousand voices cry out. Why the fuck would any reasonable person like Yan goddamn Wushi in any capacity?

Well, there’s your first mistake. Shen Qiao is not a reasonable person.

Shen Qiao as a character is absolutely terrifying. He could absolutely destroy the world given half the inclination, but he just doesn’t want to. He’s already considered unmatched before he’s pushed unceremoniously off of a mountain, and his journey only increases his strength. He isn’t quite equal to Yan Wushi, but he’s the only person Yan Wushi ever sees as equal to himself.

Shen Qiao’s best and worst trait is his patience. He’s unwavering. He really just embodies taoism, especially as it’s presented in the novels. He is the picture of a river that doesn’t stray from its path.

Which is why it’s hard for him to reconcile his own attraction to Yan Wushi, but let’s all be clear here. Yan Wushi absolutely starts seducing Shen Qiao on day fucking one. If he could’ve (if Qi Fengge hadn’t been there) he would’ve tried to eat that cabbage when it was just a little sprout. Shen Qiao is unpracticed in most social interactions, to be frank, but he’s especially unused to romance and Yan Wushi really is his first introduction to being hit on.

Yan Wushi is far from good, at really any point, to anybody but especially to Shen Qiao. But that doesn’t particularly matter because Shen Qiao chooses to forgive him, again and again. And I really think, after giving Shen Qiao to a confirmed terrible, awful person who has already promised to do terrible thing to Shen Qiao, that Shen Qiao himself wouldn’t forgive literally anyone else for doing that. And he shouldn’t, because it was really fucked up, but that still doesn’t matter because Shen Qiao ultimately DOES forgive Yan Wushi.

What am I saying? I’m saying that Shen Qiao fell for Yan Wushi first. It is the only way the story makes any sense. Shen Qiao is annoyed at him, he’s furious at him, he’s so fucking pissed he could kill that man, but he likes him. He likes Yan Wushi’s company. He likes that Yan Wushi gives him a challenge. He’s exasperated, but he likes it.

Shen Qiao forgives Yan Wushi SO MANY TIMES. Yan Wushi humiliates him and mocks him and is the absolute worst, but Shen Qiao forgives him and more than that, Shen Qiao always is waiting for Yan Wushi to come back to bother him more.

Is there more to Shen Qiao’s attraction? Probably. Is it a daddy kink? It could be. But I honestly can’t help but read it as Shen Qiao falling for the absolute pits of a man that is Yan Wushi. Shen Qiao likes that old bastard and decides to spend the rest of his life with the fucker and he is just too much of a block of ice to show it.

#thousand autumns #qian qiu #shen qiao #yan wushi #yanshen #long post #it’s been a while so #extra long post #the inane ramblings of a madman #listen i realize that this is an unpopular reading #but the story just makes more sense #if you read it as shen qiao coming to terms with his own terrible taste in men #there are so many other who shen qiao could have with just a thought #but he has the worst taste in men known to man #and qi fengge KNEW #and that’s whY QI FENGGE ENCOURAGED HIM TO STAY ON THE MOUNTAIN #IT’S ALL CONNECTED #look i promise it’s all connected i promise #just look at my corkboard and you’ll see it-#xiao qiao er asked qi fengge who that handsome guy was #and qi fengge immediately planned how to make it so his precious baby would never ever leave #qi fengge has suffered for so long without us knowing #but i uncovered it #🫡 you’re welcome #how much sleep did you get last night kacie?#about fifteen

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softtdaisy · 6 months

Text

DESCRIPTION I Everybody respect Charles, your boyfriend. Ironically, they don't know he's the same man they are all afraid of these days.

PAIRING I Charles Leclerc × reader

WORDS COUNT I 2,2k

A/N I Happy halloween my loves!! I couldn't not write anything for this day, I love halloween so much. And I mean, Charles as ghostface is kinda hot no? 👀

Ghostface. That’s the subject everyone was talking about for weeks now. It was in everyone's mouth. Fear, anger and excitement: these were the main feelings people had about him. Or her, for what they know it could be anybody.

“It has to be someone who’s lonely. Why would they kill all these people otherwise?” you heard a girl from your class say.

You were all outside, waiting for your next class. If Ghostface had been the main subject before, it was even more true today. They found someone else's body this morning.

The captain of the basketball team, Max Verstappen.

Until today, the victims were mostly…Well there was nobody, sadly. Or at least, not someone whose death would be as commented on as the star of the school.

The first victim was a teacher’s assistant, which led people to believe either she had slept with the killer or it was some kind of jealousy.

Then there was a member of the chess club. And as much as he was appreciated by everyone, he wasn’t that popular.

Neither were the two girls who had a terrible crash last weekend. It could have been an “ordinary” crash. But the mask was there. Like a proof.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

You turned around to look at your boyfriend, sitting behind you with his hand on your hair.

Charles knew Max pretty well since they were in the same team. He hadn’t said much since you discovered the murder. Not like he said much about the other victims either.

They all turned their heads to look at him. Charles was highly charismatic with his gorgeous smile, his perfect green and his curly brown hair falling on his forehead. He had some mystery in him. Nobody could really read into him.

Well you could. But you were probably the only one.

The hand that was in your hair slowly moved so he could pass his arm around your neck and keep you close between his legs. “Is it too easy to think it’s someone with no power? Why can’t it be someone who has control over everyone here?”

Everyone stayed silent. Because the idea, somehow, was even more frightening. It could be anybody. From a classmate, to a friend, to a teacher, to a coach, to their partner or their worst enemy.

What Charles was implying was that nobody was safe.

The silence was suddenly broken by Pierre and his burst of laughter. “You would a fucking cool killer, dude.” He said, bringing his hand to Charles. It took him a few seconds before smiling and checking his best friend’s hand.

A few seconds that nobody noticed.

“Maybe I should cancel the party tonight.”

You always organized a party the night before Halloween. There was something exciting with starting the festivities earlier than everyone else. Things always seemed to happen during that night. Like people testing their limits, couples acting like there was no tomorrow. You didn’t want to cancel. But was it worth it to risk everyone’s life for your own pleasure?

Weirdly enough, all your friends started to protest against your offer. Apparently you weren’t the only one who loved this party so much.

“It’s the best night of the year!”

”I waited all year for this, you can’t do that!”

“I didn’t prepare my outfit for nothing, trust me.”

You laughed a little at all their remarks. But the most important one came from behind you. When Charles tightened his grip around your neck so you could come closer to him. You felt his wild hair against your cheek and his breath against your temple. You closed your eyes for a second. Hoping you could be in a private room instead of outside, with everyone.

Not that it has ever been a problem before.

“We all deserve a good night of peace, right?” he whispered in your ear. You felt it in your bones. And when he kissed your cheek, which provoqued again some reactions from your friends, you knew he had won. Charles always gets what he wants.

And he wanted that party to happen.

There was no surprise when everyone came up to your place that night. All dressed up with a mix between “party like tomorrow doesn’t exist” and “we shouldn’t be afraid about what’s happening outside.” You didn’t mind that. You even loved that.

Charles looked deliciously handsome in an all black outfit that was complimenting his eyes, making them look even more percent and vibrant. That was the only thing you saw in the dark. It was even more disturbing for some people when he looked at them: they felt trapped. Like by coming here, they had just walked into the lion’s den.

Maybe they were right.

“Oh fuck.”

Every light in your house went down suddenly. Just like the music and, basically, everything electronic. You tighten your grip at Charles’ arm from the sudden silence. This was absolutely not part of your night.

“Can someone give it a look?” you heard in the middle of the complaints. You rolled your eyes. Why is it always easier to ask someone else something you’re too scared to do?”

“I’ll go.” Charles said. You didn’t get the time to convince to stay. Your boyfriend kissed your hair before disappearing in the dark. Everybody seemed to trust him with that task. Slowly, they all started to talk and act like nothing happened. Like they weren’t in the dark in a big house in a town where there was a killer around. They all seemed to forget about the situation.

Now by yourself without Charles, you walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. A glass you immediately drop on the floor when you notice a silhouette in the middle of the room. Your scream resonated in the whole house and stopped every conversation…only for more screams to come.

Like they all understood why you were screaming.

It wasn’t that hard to guess, anyway.

Just like everyone, you started to run away and find yourself in your own bedroom. One killer for a whole house. And of course he choose you.

You could feel a presence right behind you. And when you turned around, you knew you were right. There he was, dominating you with his tall figure. Even if you couldn’t see a thing with his mask, you could feel his smirk. You could feel his satisfaction of finding you. You took a step back, forgetting about the wall behind you. You trapped yourself. Like a poor victim.

“Found.” he whispered, putting his body against yours. He didn’t lose any seconds before bringing his knife under your chin. Menacing you with the sharp blade against your skin. The worst part was probably to feel a drop running down your neck.

And knowing it wasn’t your blood.

He approached his face, pressing his mask against your cheek. “You’re such a bitch.” You heard him laugh. And for a second, you acted scared.

Only for a second.

“But I’m your boss’ bitch, so I’m still above you.” you whispered, just like he did. Because there was no reason Pierre could be the only one to act so scary and dominant. You could imagine how frustrating it must be for him.

Charles chose him to do the killing. He trusted him enough for this.

But Charles would still choose you over him.

Pierre pressed his body a little harder against yours. You could feel every muscle, every curve against your skin. You wanted to test his limits. Not only to tease him. Because you had no idea where he would stop. Would he hurt you? Would he really risk his friendship with Charles to avenge his jealousy? You wanted to know. You were dying to know.

You were probably the only one.

“Let her go.”

You suddenly heard this voice. This deep, dark voice that probably appears in some people’s nightmare.

Pierre immediately froze. He wanted to continue. He wanted to hurt you. But he knew he couldn’t. If he dared touch a single hair from your head, it was his own that would be on the floor in the next minute. He kept looking at you like maybe you would let him hurt you. Once. He honestly believed you would.

What a fool.

Before he walked back by himself, Charles grabbed him by the neck and threw him on the floor. He didn’t even look at you, it wasn’t even important. He knew you were safe now. And he knew you had nothing.

You watched him put his foot on Pierre’s chest to keep him down.

None of them speak. The silence was more threatening than any words.

One move and Charles could harm him.

One move and Charles could kill him.

Charles suddenly turned around to look at you. You couldn’t see anything. Not his eyes that were undressing you, even in this situation. Not his lips that were curled in a grin.

But you still understood him. With the slight move he made with his head. You nod before running to another room. You were sure what Charles had planned for his teammate.

It wasn’t until an hour later that you knew.

When you saw Pierre leaving your house with his girlfriend by his side. “Everything is fine?” you asked them, like you did with every other guest that got attacked tonight. For a second, you really thought he would grass you up. Especially with the way he held his girl closer to him. Like he wanted to protect her from you. Like he wasn’t the killer in your house.

“Just some bruises from the fight.” That’s all he said before grabbing her hand and leading her away.

Once everyone had left the house, you went upstairs to take a bath. You deserved a good moment of relaxation after that messy night.

And you made yourself perfectly comfortable: bubble bath with essential oil, music loud enough to forget about the world outside.

You could feel him here. You knew he was standing there, watching you. And just for the pleasure of it, you stayed with your eyes closed. Making him wait. Until you couldn’t contain the smile on your face. You loved this situation way too much.

“You want to play psycho killer?” you asked, in a low voice.

You opened your eyes and turned your head to watch Charles walk to you. He was still wearing most of his costume, except for the mask. But he didn’t need it. There was something even more scary in seeing his perfect son-in-law's face that nobody would suspect and knowing it was such a mess in his mind that he had to kill people to calm the voices in his head.

He was standing right in front of the bathtub, his knees sticking to the marble and his body dominating yours completely. If he wasn’t your boyfriend, you would be scared.

Maybe you should.

You watched his hand coming to your neck and felt his fingers pressing against your skin. You were breathless for a few seconds, like you had a blackout and forgot everything. Your place, your relationship.

But not for long.

“No please don’t kill me Mr Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.” you said with a fake scared and innocent voice. You loved playing that game with Charles. Because you never knew where his limits would be.

And tonight they seemed pretty high. Because you didn’t have the time to think before he dived your head into the water. Surprised, you didn’t breath before and started to cough almost immediately. And the fact he was still squeezing your neck clearly didn’t help. But you weren’t scared. Even if the seconds started to grow longer. Even if there was indeed something quite weird in seeing the face of the man you loved above yours, watching you struggling under the water.

Because in the end. Charles loved you.

And you probably were the only person he had feelings for.

So it wasn’t such a relief when he helped you resurface and caressed your back while you were catching your breath back. You knew he wouldn’t kill you. Not you.

You turned your head to look at him and that’s when you noticed the proof from the night that just went by. “You still have blood on you.” you brought one of your wet hands to his chest and started to undress him. “Come with me.”

“You realized you’re just as fucked up as I am, right? “ Charles asked you when he entered the bath and put himself right behind you. You were trapped between his body, his muscled legs encircling yours and his arms holding you against him. His bloody hands were on your body and the way he was touching you was too romantic to think about what those hands did earlier.

You looked at him and noticed how his face was softening slowly. His eyes were less threatening and more loving and you couldn’t help to think it was because of the love he had for you. He even had a small smile on his face and you could resist kissing the little dimple that was coming out. “I guess we make a great couple then.” you replied before taking the soap to wash the stains from the night.

Washing the horror away and becoming a normal couple again.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #ghostface #my writing

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dawndelion-winery · 11 months

Text

A Proposition

Fake dating and contract marriages

Ft. Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Thoma, Zhongli

Alhaitham:

Acting grand sage, respected scholar, rich, young, handsome, there's a bunch of things that make Alhaitham an ideal spouse in name

Which led to a fair bit of unwanted attention

Unwanted because he knew for a fact most people found him quite the intolerable romantic partner - not that he could fault them, for he didn't exactly try to be romantic to begin with

So when you accidentally hold his hand while reaching for a book, he scowled at you, ready for whatever cheesy, unwelcome pickup line you might hurl at him

Except he only got a questioning stare as you asked if you had slighted him in some way

Perhaps it'd be good to have you around, keep his "admirers" at bay

Of course, you're handsomely compensated, his salary allows for that much and more

What he can't seem to allow is you holding his hand

Or making any sort of physical contact, for that matter

He hates how he suddenly finds himself holding his breath when your arms almost brush

He hates the way you somehow draw his gaze towards you when you stand beside him

This wasn't part of the agreement. At some point he asks you to live with him, under the guise of keeping up appearances

You had been dutifully fulfilling your role as his make belief spouse, surely that was why he felt so attached

His reasons are not reasoning, he needs you, he desires you

Well, at least the contract keeps you with him

After all, it wasn't so different from a real marriage, no? Both were contracts of sorts

Yes, he'll satisfy himself with that unless you try to leave

Ayato:

A high ranking official well loved by those under him?

Terribly popular, and yet a situation very unlike Alhaitham's

While yes, he had his fair share of admirers, the issue was with how he knew his staff keenly analysed every interaction he had, eager to spot if he ever took a fancy to anyone

After all, he'd been thrust into responsibility at such a young age, and the elder who'd helped raise him just wanted to see him happily settled down as elders do

So, as considerate as he is, he decides to ease their worries by taking on a pretend lover

Things move fast when you've the entire Kamisato estate and all its staff encouraging your relationship

Meals cooked to perfection, ambience dialed to just the right level of romantic and light-hearted to set the mood for your shared meals

And you will share meals, the staff ensure that much

Fake courtship quickly turns to fake dating, which turns into a whole ass Fake wedding ceremony everyone eagerly wishes you well with

Worst of all is how you seem to be the only one worried about the contract

Ayato? He hasn't said a word about it since it progressed to an engagement, easily going with the flow and taking you to choose a ring

Of course, you assumed this was part of the deal with how normally he treated it, but you couldn't help but be doubtful since marriage was a pretty big deal

You were inclined to believe Ayato was an incredibly convincing actor until he kissed you after he said his vows

"Despite the circumstances that brought us together, I have to say, I never quite expected you to find a home in my heart so easily. I can only hope I've a similar lodging in yours, and that you continue to trust in me, as you have thus far."

Kaveh:

He couldn't date - not when he only brought misery to those around him

It was what he'd gaslighted himself into believing until Alhaitham got sick of it and hired you to be his pretend spouse

You were quite confused when Alhaitham had approached you, not expecting a man of his status to require your services

Even more confused when you find he hadn't even sought you out for himself, commissioning you to play the role of his roommate's lover

Still, Alhaitham paid well, and surely, the roommate of such an esteemed person had to be good company, right?

Your jaw dropped to the ground when you realised it was Sumeru's star architect

Your worst mistake was probably assuming Kaveh knew about the contract

Poor guy was panicked as hell when you sidled up to him and slipped your hand in his

Until Alhaitham explained the situation and frankly, if you were doing it to make a quick buck of Alhaitham? He could respect the hustle

So he lets you dote on him

And it's nice...he fears...he starts to enjoy it

And he feels so terribly guilty because how dare he covet you when you're only in it for the contract

So he tries to open up to you in the hopes you start to fall for him even if only s little bit

And of course you pick up on it because Kaveh is a wreck when it comes to his emotions

There's no helping him once he's attached, he all but begs Alhaitham to keep paying you to stay

And you continue to take the money because cash is cash and it lets you spoil Kaveh

You're essentially given an allowance to be Kaveh's doting spouse

Maybe one day Kaveh will catch onto how you reciprocate his fondness, but hopefully not before you've gotten enough out of Alhaitham's pocket to live comfortably

Thoma:

As much as Ayato and Ayaka adore him, they do worry his life centres around being their housekeeper

They appreciate his work, truly, but they can't help but want him to have other activities he enjoys

Of course Thoma insists he simply enjoys his job, to which there's nothing either Kamisato can do about it except remind him that he's free to change his mind since they've complete faith in his ability to balance work and life

So naturally he finds you, a charming outlander wandering around Ritou, and proposes you pretend to date him

The story was simple enough, he was showing you around and you bonded over having to assimilate into Inazuman culture

It wasn't entirely false, since you did bond a fair bit over that

Maybe a little too much

It was simply so convenient, so easy to be together, that at some point, the two of you had quite forgotten about the deal entirely

That much made itself apparent with the matching wedding bands on your fingers

Zhongli:

Who more likely to propose such a contract than the god of contracts himself?

A loving spouse is simply part of the package to being your average joe among humans, he hears, so why wouldn't he try his best to blend in?

Of course, he'd never impose something like that upon his citizens and simply pick a spouse to his liking - he'd outgrown that immature, thoughtless, tyrannical phase of his life

Instead, he happens upon you in the lap of one of the statues of seven, absently tracing his stone chest as you murmured your worries

A strange sight, admittedly, but it wasn't unheard of for some believers to be...exceptionally devoted

It seemed he provided you some solace even in his "death", and that made you the perfect candidate

He courts you formally, conversing with you naturally like you'd known each other all your lives

But of course that wasn't nearly enough

He had to stand out, he knew that much

Which is why in his eyes, he let a bit of his old self show - the cold, reptilian gaze of his dragon self seeming to pierce through you

As patient and gentlemanly as Zhongli makes himself out to be when he's with you, he's nothing short of calculative

He feels the rush of heat to your face when you notice him glaring subtly at some poor fool who dares to cover you with their mortal eyes, he noticed the way your breath catches when he leads you with a firm hand on your shoulder, holding you close to him in a sort of half embrace

He knows you're falling

And in your infatuation, he is certain he's charmed you enough to make a proposition: be his. Help him keep up appearances

He seals the deal by revealing his draconic form to you, in all its intimidating glory

There's a different sharpness, a fearsome edge to him that you're certain he never had before and yet it has you rooted to the spot, eyes glued to him

There's a finality in his tone, a possessiveness as he presents the yellowed certificate to you, scaled, clawed hands holding a pen as he patiently waits for you to sign

And he knows you will

Zhongli is thorough in his act, so much so it may as well be true

As you play your role to the best of your ability, he plays his to perfection, the ideal husband

It's enough to convince you he truly did fall head over heels in love with you, and yours believe it if you hadn't been informed of the contract at the very start

Make no mistake though, you are in no way encouraged to believe it's an act. He will convince you it's real by any means he deems necessary

After all, it's a contract that will only terminate with your death, so why not believe his every word when he so earnestly takes care of you?

Happy belated birthday @zhongrin !! Hope you enjoyed your husbands<3

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

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happy74827 · 5 months

Text

Happy Accidents

[Todd Ingram x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You might've broken your leg due to Todd, but that didn't mean you couldn't still have quality time together.

WC: 2672

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

This was such a random plot I came up with, but I’m actually in love with it. I feel that this little one-shot is 100% Todd accurate (I say little but it’s literally 2k words lol).

Also, please don’t send the vegan police after me for my inaccuracies (lmao). Google was my only option 😭😭

『••✎••』

Spending time at the hospital wasn’t the plan you had in mind for your Friday night. You expected it with you curled up on your couch watching whatever crappy reality show that was airing with Todd by your side.

He was always the perfect person to binge with; his reactions were an endless source of sarcastic commentary. It actually made it funnier.

But you couldn't be too upset. You still had Todd, and you had… some television. Sure, it wasn’t 90 Day Fiancé, but it was better than nothing.

Usually, when it came to broken legs, you were at the hospital for two hours. Two. Hours. Not you, of course. Your boyfriend had to be a vegan and have those whacked-out powers. It was a given that there’d be an accident.

Who knew a flying amp could be so hard to catch?

At least you didn't have a concussion. The only injury was your leg, but your leg was completely messed up. Three different fractures in your femur and a torn ligament. It was the most you had ever been injured in your life, including all those times you fell off your bike or when you broke your arm in third grade.

The doctors at the hospital said that they couldn't let you leave until Monday. Surgery was also still on the table and could happen as early as tomorrow, which you definitely weren’t paying for

So, you were stuck in the hospital, eating the terrible hospital food and watching stupid television.

And the worst part about all of this was that it was slowly taking your mind off of Todd.

It was only the last couple months when the two of you started dating. Neither of you were exactly serious or anything, but you had feelings.

He was a big guy and a real sweetheart, not to mention a badass with those powers of his. It was obvious that he had a good heart, and he didn't take shit from anybody. That included you.

You had to admit that it was cute when he got jealous. He never had to worry, though. You were never interested in guys like him. You had your eye on Todd, and now you were stuck in a hospital bed because of him.

Now that it was just a memory, the moment you broke your leg was pretty comical. Envy needed a rehearsal before their band went out on tour the following week, and since you and Todd planned the night out together, you attended their quick practice.

As usual, they were awesome. You were like a little fangirl when Envy started singing. You kept your cool, though, sitting on the couch while they ran tempo and entrances. You weren't paying too much attention either, until you heard a voice and turned your head.

Lynette, the drummer, apparently had a very salty day and decided to pick fights with Envy’s ideas. She even suggested that she should learn how to write songs. That was a big no-no when it came to Envy, and it was made very clear that it would be her last comment for the day.

It was a blur, really. Envy and Lynette were throwing insults at each other, and Todd was caught in the middle of it. He was pretty bad at confrontation when it didn’t technically involve him and so he usually let it slide, but something about Lynette had pissed him off this time.

You could still remember the words he said.

"You know what I hate about you? Your hair."

You giggled, and that was your mistake. Lynette absolutely loved her hair. That haircut was her pride and joy. Todd could never understand what it was about it, but it was Lynette's favorite feature.

So, when he insulted her favorite thing in the world, she immediately started attacking your boyfriend, causing you to go over and try to stop this before it escalated.

Well, it escalated. Todd subconsciously went into “vegan mode” when he was mad. It was a defense mechanism or something like that. In any case, an accidental movement of his hand had an expensive amplifier aimed right at your leg.

Envy saw it coming and screamed his name to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her over Lynette, and you couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

And then, everything stopped. All you felt was the excruciating pain that was apparently your broken bone, multiple places, as you later found out. Your mind went blank for a moment as all the horrified expressions of each band member turned towards you.

Todd threw the amplifier aside with his powers, profusely apologizing to you. His hair settled back down to normal as he took you in his arms.

"Oh, god, am I an idiot." He said. "I didn't mean to… oh, man, you’re okay, right?"

You were on the verge of tears when you nodded your head. The adrenaline of the moment had taken over your pain as you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Envy most definitely cursed him out on your behalf. Lynette was still pissed as she stood off to the side, crossing her arms with a huff. She didn’t really know you, so she didn’t really care that you got hurt.

But Todd knew you, and he cared a whole hell of a lot about you. He was going to be making up to you for a while. You were going to get the apology of a lifetime and probably an entire chocolate cake with strawberries. You loved strawberries.

You did not care about your injury at that moment, though. The scene of Todd apologizing to you, Envy yelling derogatory words at him that were obviously unknown to him, and Lynette's head turning in the other direction was probably one of the best sights you had ever witnessed in your life.

“How’re you feeling?” Todd’s voice snapped you out of your memory. He was in the chair beside you with a hospital pillow on his lap. He had a bag of Doritos in his hand, which he was munching on.

You turned your head over to him and couldn't help but smile. It was a smile full of love and adoration, one that made Todd raise an eyebrow.

"I'm alright," you replied, reaching for the water that was by your bedside. You failed miserably, but Todd noticed it and hovered it over to your hands.

He took the opportunity to grab another chip and take a bite before looking back at you.

"You sure you're okay? I mean, you got hurt 'cause of me.”

"That's what I get for dating a badass, I guess." You laughed, shaking your head.

Todd scoffed, "That's not funny."

"It kinda is."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms and pouted a little bit. "I'll have to watch my back more now. I could have killed you."

“It’s okay. Envy would’ve reunited us if you had. She would’ve torn you a new one. I'd say you dodged a bullet there.”

As Todd munched on his Doritos, nodding along to your words, you knew there was nothing in his brain that connected what you’d just said. He was most definitely agreeing, just to agree.

And just because of that, you couldn't help but admire him. He was sitting there with his messy hair and those brown eyes of his. His clothes were wrinkled, and you could see the tiredness in his eyes, but none of it mattered to you because he was still so beautiful.

Todd being a vegan was also a blessing because it gave him such an amazing physique. He was lean but toned, his abs always visible even under his baggy shirts. Not that you cared if they were showing or not.

"Can I have a chip?” You asked him.

He turned towards you with a look of horror on his face. "You don’t like these. You like the non-vegan Doritos.”

“Aren’t they all… not vegan?”

Todd let out a sigh, his eyes rolling back.

"Not these. Spicy Sweet Chili. I got these from the vending machine. They're for me."

He sounded like a little child, which you couldn't help but laugh at. He always was so serious about these things, even though they were snacks that were meant to be shared with people.

"That's not what I asked." You said.

"Yeah, but-"

You made grabby hands at him. You were starting to feel that pain again as your muscles were getting tired. You needed those chips.

"Todd, please."

He let out a sigh, trying to hold back a smile. He was always such a big softie for you.

He handed over a bag of chips, and you wasted no time in taking one. Immediate regret as you took a bite out of the spicy snack, choking as you did so. You managed to swallow it down before taking in a drink of water to wash it all down.

"Told you that you wouldn't like them." He said with a grin.

"I… like them. I just don't like how I feel after I eat them."

"Mhmm.”

You glared at him, narrowing your eyes. "Stop being smug."

"I can't help it if I'm so cool." He winked.

He wasn't wrong, though. Todd had a very good self-esteem about himself and was never shy to tell you so. But it was the way he said it, that smug look of his and his stupid wink, that made you want to punch him and kiss him.

It was those little things.

"You know," you said as you crossed your arms, "this isn't how I planned on spending my Friday night."

"I know, babe. I know."

"I mean, I thought we were going to have some quality time. The two of us and the TV, I really wanted to catch up on that old Ed and Rose storyline.”

"I know, I know.”

"And instead, I'm here with and because of you." You glared at him as you finished your sentence.

He was ready for your attack, crossing his arms to match yours. You two were in the middle of a staring contest when Todd opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse came in at the worst possible moment to interrupt him.

"Ah, you're awake. How're you feeling?”

Unfortunately, this made Todd win the battle as you were forced to look at the nurse. She had a smile on her face, one that made you feel relaxed. Todd turned to look at her as well.

"I'm feeling better now." You said. "Thank you for asking."

The nurse nodded her head, writing down your words before turning to Todd with a smile. "Since your friend—”

“Girlfriend.” He corrected her, pointing a finger at you.

You couldn't help but laugh, turning your head to the side as you did so. Your laughter got the nurse to smile.

"I apologize. Since your girlfriend is doing better, you’re welcome to visit back in the morning. Visitation hours are from eight to twelve and one to three. After that, only family will be allowed in.”

Todd turned to look at you, and you could see that he wanted to say something, but with a simple nod from you, he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, giving the nurse his attention.

She gave him another smile as she looked back at you. "I’ll come back in about an hour for a checkup. Press the button if you need anything in the meantime."

"Thank you." You replied.

She left the room smiling, leaving the two of you to look at each other.

You let out a sigh as you leaned your head back on the bed, closing your eyes. Todd's eyes never left you, staring at you as you did so.

“Should've said we were married. I would've been able to stay the night here." He said.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep because of your snoring. You know, that's why I get up so early in the mornings. I have no choice but to leave the bed when you're snoozing away."

Todd had the audacity to smile at that, shaking his head.

"Whatever, I don't snore. Besides, you love the way my arms feel around you."

You opened one eye, staring at him. "Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No. I'm just stating the facts. I have great arms if you hadn't noticed."

You scoffed at him and his bragging. You closed your eyes again.

"I hate you so much."

"I know." He said with a smirk on his face. “Can I have my chips back now? You ate almost all of them."

You handed the bag back to him without another word, sighing deeply. You could feel Todd's stare at you as he opened up the bag again.

You heard him take another chip into his mouth as he stared at you, but he was too quiet, so you knew he had something else to say.

"What?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know that I meant it when I said sorry, right?"

"Of course I know, Todd. You always apologize."

He swallowed down his chips. "Yeah, but this time I really meant it. I was so scared when you got hurt. I didn’t mean to; I just got pissed at Lynette, and that all happened."

"Todd, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. You would never hurt me."

"You're sure?" He asked.

You opened up your eyes again, looking at him. He was staring down at his lap as he said those words, biting his lip. You could tell that he was genuinely worried about this, so you reached over and made grabby hands again, but instead of the chips, you were looking for him.

Todd looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. He placed the bag of chips aside and got out of his chair, going over to the side of the bed to look at you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his neck, smiling at him.

"I'm positive. I know how much I mean to you, Todd. You don't need to worry. I'm not mad at you."

He was looking right into your eyes as you said that and nodded his head, moving closer toward you as he placed his hands on the side of the bed. You didn't want him to be too far away from you, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear."

"I know." You replied. "It's not your fault."

You stared at each other for a few more moments before he leaned down and kissed you. He placed both of his hands on either side of the bed as he deepened the kiss. He didn't do this often, but when he did, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was also extremely careful now that you had broken your leg, making sure that he wasn't putting any pressure on your side. He placed one hand on your face to hold you in place as he kissed you while his other hand supported his body.

It felt like a few minutes had passed before he broke the kiss. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too."

It wasn't the first time he said it, and it definitely wasn't the first time you had said it to him, but it was the first time you heard those words without any fear in his voice. There was no worry, no hesitation, only love.

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face. His brown eyes always captivated you, especially when he smiled.

You felt your own smile spread as you looked into those beautiful eyes of his, kissing him on the cheek before snuggling up to him.

You felt his hands wrap around your body and sighed contently. Eventually, he’d have to leave, but until then, you were going to enjoy this.

And if it came with spicy chips, then even better.

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

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