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etfrin · 7 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-three | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus snow, canon typical violence, canon typical death, oral sex (m. receiving), implication of committing murder | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus gets more blood on his hands, he also gets his cock sucked.

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 two more exams to go!! can't wait for it to finish! Make sure to reblog and give your feedback! <33

beta read by the birthday girl @nowitsmissing

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The next days of Coriolanus Snow are spent in constant paranoia. He avoided you and refused to make eye contact. He was simply so afraid of what was going to happen. Before him, you were much closer to Sejanus. Snow briefly wondered if you interacted with Sejanus because of the power his family held. But he quickly dismissed that thought. Surely you wouldn't have been so calculating since childhood.

District 12 was in chaos trying to find out what happened with Mayfair and Billy Taupe. Spruce had kept his lips sealed. However, he knew that won't be the case for long.

Sejanus Plinth would be dead. And Spruce would know exactly who is responsible. But Coriolanus thought that he would escape to the north before it happened. Lucy Gray was in a hurry too. She was the lead suspect as Mayfair was the reason she was in the games.

Today was the day the bodies were found. Rotten. It was a miracle it was hidden for so long. He had an inkling it was due to you. Because the bodies weren't found at the original place of murder but on the outskirts of District 12. People rarely go there.

The Peacekeepers were talking about it right now. Coriolanus carefully listened, trying to see if anyone had any knowledge of what had actually happened.

“They’re both locals, but one of them is the mayor’s daughter. The other one’s a musician or something, but not one that we’ve seen. They were shot dead.”

“Did they find who did it?” asked a Peacekeeper.

“Not yet. These people aren’t even supposed to have guns, but like I told you, they’re floating around out there,” another replied. “Killed by one of their own, though.”

“How do they know that?” asked Sejanus.

‘Shut up!’ thought Coriolanus. Knowing Sejanus, he could be one step away from confessing to a crime he didn’t even commit.

“Well, she said they think the girl was shot with a Peacekeeper’s rifle, probably an old one that got stolen during the war. And the musician was killed by some sort of shotgun the locals used for hunting. Probably two shooters,” Smiley reported. “They searched the surrounding area and couldn’t find the weapons. Long gone with the murderers, if you ask me.”

Coriolanus’s nerves unwound a bit, and he ate a forkful of pancakes. “Who found the bodies?”

“That little girl singer — you know, the one in the pink dress,” said Smiley.

“Maude Ivory,” said Sejanus.

“I think that’s it. Anyway, she freaked out. They questioned the band, but when would they have had time to do it? No guns were found, no prints either,” Smiley told them. “Shook them up pretty good, though. I guess they knew the musician guy somehow or other.”

Because of the past night’s events, the commander locked down the base for the day.

He and Sejanus floated around, trying to look normal. Playing cards, writing letters, cleaning their boots. As they knocked the mud from the treads, Coriolanus whispered, “What about the escape plan? Is it still on?”

“I’ve no idea,” Sejanus said. “The commander’s birthday isn’t until next weekend. That was the night we were supposed to go. Coryo, what if they arrest an innocent person for the murders?”

‘Then our troubles are over’, thought Coriolanus, but he only said, “I think it’s highly unlikely, with no guns. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Coriolanus came into your room that night. Ready to confess his sins and come clean. His mouth went dry when you opened the door. Your lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Hi, Coryo,” you said, as your hand was on the shirt, getting a grip on the fabric to pull him inside of the room.

“What did you do?” you asked him as you pushed him down onto the bed. You stood at the side, towering over him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“I- I didn't do anything,” he said, “I missed you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You fucked up. Real or not?”

“Real,” he muttered.

“Worse than murder?”

Coriolanus winces.

“Do you care about Sejanus?” He asked, hoping that the answer would be in his favor. He could feel his palms sweating, and he pressed his hands onto the sheets.

“No.”

Coriolanus blinks in shock. “No?” He questions, visibly confused, “But- but-”

“Is this about you sending the jabberjays to Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus managed a nod. In truth, he had suspected you would find out as Dr. Gaul seems to trust you. Which was one of the main reasons he wanted to come clean beforehand.

You let out a harsh chuckle, “Yeah, Dr. Gaul told me to keep an eye on the boy. I told her he murdered innocent citizens who were against the rebellion. You presented a death warrant to her, I signed it.”

You eye Coriolanus with a smirk. “You should know you can't keep secrets from me, baby,” you shake your head, “I don't know why you try when it's so obvious.”

“Sejanus Plinth and Spruce, the leader of the rebellion, will be dead soon. No need to worry about them, Coryo. Good job, Dr. Gaul is impressed, she sees your potential even more so than before.” you add.

“Is there anything else or…?”

Your eyes turn lustful as you begin to slowly check him out. His heart starts to beat faster, his blood rushing downwards. A tent quickly forms in his pants. It was from your heated gaze alone.

You tease him with a smile, “You're such a boy.”

“Shu- shut up! It's on you- it's because you're looking at me like that,” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“Like you'll eat me up,” he replied.

“That's the plan,” you whispered, as you went on your knees in front of him.

He lets out a desperate, needy noise at the sight. You looked so pretty like this. He spreads his legs, making up space for you. You bite your lip in anticipation. Your mouth salivating for his taste.

“Holy shit, dove,” he whines when your hand presses into his bulge. You palm him through his pants.

“So needy,” you murmur. “Do you want my mouth on you that bad?”

“Yes,” he gasps out, willing to beg. “Please.”

“That's a good boy.”

You unzip his pants, dragging them down around his knees. His dick is strained against his boxers. A wet spot on the fabric. It was clear how much pre-cum he was leaking. It was pathetic too. But you didn't blame him for it. You pressed your thumb on his clothed tip, and gently slid your fingertip back and forth, letting his sensitive slit feel the slick texture of the fabric.

“Fuck,” he curses, “Don't tease me.”

“I am not teasing,” you lie.

You pull his boxers down, letting his cock spring free from its confines. The tip is red, the veins on his length popping out, just waiting to be traced with your tongue. You don't let a second go to waste as you let yourself lick his slit. You hold his cock by the base, as you make sure to enjoy his taste like it's a lollipop.

You lick all over, slathering his cock with your saliva. You make sure to trace his veins before you find your way back to his tip. You take his cockhead inside the warmth of your mouth. Coriolanus groans, it took him an iron of will not cum right then and there.

You slowly take more of his length inside and he lets out a whimper. His hand rests on your head, trying so hard not to pull you forward and make you choke on his cock like you were supposed to.

His free hand fists the sheet, as he bites his lower lip to stop a groan from escaping. He could feel that he was getting close to snapping. “Fu-fuck,” he lets out, “Dove… that's so good.”

You continue to suck his cock. You hollow your mouth and he lets out a whimper, his hips bucking up. His cockhead reaches the back of your throat. Surprisingly you don't choke. With a moan of your name, Coriolanus could feel himself cum inside of your mouth.

You taste his salty, thick cum. Letting it coat on your tongue, some of it escapes from the corner of your lips. You pull away as his cock softens and wipe your mouth.

You sit down beside Coriolanus who is trying to catch his breath. He tucks himself in. “Thank you,” he said, “that was good.” You smile at him. Your hand on his cheek. You caress his face.

“You needed to relax, after all, you need to have more blood on your hands,” you said, your smile turning cruel.

“Lucy Gray?” He questions.

“Lucy Gray,” you confirm.

Coriolanus nods, “Yeah, I understand. She will be the only witness left except us.” Coriolanus takes a deep breath. “We'll need to find a way.”

“Let Sejanus die first. I can stay here for a few more days. I'll help you figure it out.”

Coriolanus agrees with you and turns to leave. Before you shut the door, you say to him,

“I was only friends with Sejanus because of you. Because you seemed to be close to him and I wanted to be closer to you.”

After everything, that's not a surprise to him. Though he feels his heart flutter. He falls asleep on his bed with a stupid, lovesick smile, momentarily forgetting about how red his hands are.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

The next day Coriolanus was instructed to stand in a squad flanking the hanging tree. Coriolanus knew why. He had already seen Spruce being dragged into the base. Likely to be tortured for information. Coriolanus knew he was protected by you, so there wasn't much to worry about. Sejanus has been missing since morning. He knew what that meant. Dr. Gaul had nailed his coffin.

The Peacekeeper van arrived and both Sejanus and Lil stumbled out in their chains. Sejanus Plinth was accused of treason. He was caught.

Arlo, an ex-soldier toughened by years in the mines, had managed a fairly restrained end, at least until he’d heard Lil in the crowd. But Sejanus and Lil, weak with terror, looked far younger than their years and only reinforced the impression that two innocent children were being dragged to the gallows. Lil, her shaking legs unable to bear her weight, was hauled forward by a pair of grim-faced Peacekeepers who would probably spend the following night trying to obliterate this memory with white liquor.

As they passed him, Coriolanus locked eyes with Sejanus, and all he could see was the eight-year-old boy on the playground, the bag of gumdrops clenched in his fist. Only this boy was much, much more frightened. Sejanus’s lips formed his name, Coryo, and his face contorted in pain. But whether it was a plea for help or an accusation of his betrayal he couldn’t tell.

The Peacekeepers positioned the condemned side by side on the trapdoors. Another tried to read out the list of charges over the shrieks of the crowd, but all Coriolanus could catch was the word treason.

He averted his eyes as the Peacekeepers moved in with the nooses, and he found himself looking at Lucy Gray’s stricken face. She stood near the front in an old gray dress, her hair hidden in a black scarf, tears running down her cheeks as she stared up at Sejanus.

As the drumroll began, Coriolanus squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could block out the sound as well. But he could not, and he heard it all. Sejanus’s cry, the bang of the trapdoors, and the jabberjays picking up Sejanus’s last word, screaming it over and over into the dazzling sun.

“Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma! Ma!”

Sejanus Plinth is dead.

It's Lucy Gray's turn now.

NEXT PART

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comfortless · 5 months

Note

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you.

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention.

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count.

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious.

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him.

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

#syl getting carried away again? imagine that!#Kö headcanons #<- i need to start tagging these! i keep losing ‘em!#as usual you lot are geniuses we are all sitting at the lab table constructing the most vile most perfect man

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dronebiscuitbat · 13 days

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Give me a Reason: Chapter 17 - "Thad"

Computer Literacy was blessedly easy at least, she thought as she stumbled into the classroom, taking a steadying breath.

Her eyes almost automatically glanced up at N, who had nearly always given her a wave when he saw her enter, though today it looked like he was completely absorbed in conversation with someone else, a boy in a red backwards hat, brown peeking out from underneath it. Who was leaning on the back of her usual seat with his arms crossed.

She warily approached, was she going to have to find somewhere else to sit? There were a couple of others still free but, her and N were partners, how would they still work together?

She ignored the second train of thought, the one that was making her heart ache slightly at the prospect of having to go elsewhere, bring replaced by a more interesting friend so easily.

But, she didn't even have time to question it before N noticed her, and he gave her a radiant smile. “Hey Uzi! Sorry Thad, that's her seat your leaning on.”

The boy looked back at her, his eyes a dull green, like grass that had been shocked with weedkiller. A sports jacket clung to his shoulders, ‘Copper Football Team’ emblazoned on the front in yellow letters.

“Oh Hey, I'm Thad, sorry for taking your seat.” He moved off the back of her chair, dunking his hands in his pockets as he smiled, it was friendly, not as bright as N's but still warm and inviting.

“It's… fine.” She said awkwardly, in no real mood to socialize with the pain in her side.

“N said you two went ghost hunting last weekend. It's Gnarly, you two are braver then I am. I still get scared by the raccoon that lives under my house.”

Uzi blinked, taking a moment to register that she was being talked to, and a second more for her to realize it wasn't negative.

“Oh uh- Yeah, we did.” Uzi replied after a moment of struggling to bend down to put her backpack under the table, she didn't catch the way N looked at her worried lying when she flinched. “I wouldn't call N brave though, he got scared of an itty bitty spider, hehehe.”

“Hey!” N protested, pouting but not in a way that suggested he was actually upset.

“Aw she exposed you dude!” Thad laughed, but his attention was quickly back on her. “You're Uzi right? N mentioned your name, it's super badass. I wish I shared my name with a gun.”

Uzi felt herself blush, still not used to being complimented. And she couldn't really find the words to say to it either.

“I don't think Thad's a bad name.” N came to her rescue, thankfully. And Thad looked at him deadpan.

“When you find any character named “Thaddeus McFlynn” who isn't just in the background, or doesn't die a horrible death. Let me know.”

Uzi winced, man had a name like an old british man. She didn't envy him. N just shrugged.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to class, coach will chew my ass if I'm gone too long, I just came here to pick up his prints.” He picked up a stack of what looked like sign up papers, and turned back at N.

“Hey, I'm serious about signing up for one of our teams, you'd be great!” Thad gave him a finger gun and Uzi a small salute before he left the classroom, Uzi watching as he left.

N didn't really reply to that, just looked a little sad before shaking his head and returning all his attention to Uzi.

“Sorry about that. He was talking about me joining the basketball team since I'm so tall, then we somehow got onto what we did over the weekend and… yeah.” He rambled, but Uzi just nodded softly, it wasn't like she was expecting to remain N's only freind or anything, not with his personality. It's what she expected… honestly.

“It's fine.” How much had she said that today? It felt like a lot, her side throbbed uncomfortably as she tried to adjust.

“Hey uh. I know you told me to stop asking. And I promise I totally am, but… are you okay, you've looked uncomfortable all day.” He spoke up again after a second, and Uzi felt every single muscle in her body tense up, she was fine. She'd been through worse, way worse.

She turned to glare at him, words of vitriol bubbling up in her throat, but she only halfway opened her mouth before his soft, warm expression made them die into nothing, a gentle smile worn on his face and genuine concern behind those caramel eyes.

She sighed.

“I'm fine, really, just… had a run in with someone. I've been through worse.”

“Oh… well um…” N really didn't know how to help, that answer was… vague at best. But he didn't want to scare her off from opening up more by pushing her. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She looked at him for a beat, taking in his nervous smile.

“No.” She replied simply, and the window he'd had was abruptly shut in his face. His smile fell a little.

“You can keep distracting me though. That's helping.” She added after a minute, and his head snapped back up, she was avoiding his eyes, but he caught a small smile gracing her face.

And with another brilliant smile, thats what he did, dragging her into a conversation about dogs that she did her best to listen intently to, the pain being slightly buried under the weight of his voice.

When it was finally time to go home, Uzi was bracing herself on one of the brick pillars in front of the building, knowing all she needed was to walk home and she could treat herself with some sweet, sweet painkillers. It was just… actually getting there that was going to be the difficult part.

It wasn't that far away, but with how difficult walking had become, she knew it was going to be complete and total agnoy. Stalling, she was stalling.

What were the chances of her dad actually being home for once to drive her back? Probably slim to none, but… she could check.

She pulled out her phone, Khan being the first name in her contacts, the second, and last, being N.

Uzi: Hey Dad, just wondering if u could pick me up from school today.

She stared at the messaging app for almost a full minute with no response before she grumbled, leaning against the brick and closing her eyes for a moment.

When she did eventually bring her head back up, she realized that she'd been standing against the pillar for way too long, the second wave of busses already on their way out, meaning she'd been there for at least ten minutes.

Maybe she was in more pain than she thought…

“Uzi?” A voice caught her attention, and she spun around to be face to face with N's stupidly tall figure, Thad was right… he would be good for basketball.

She was starting to feel warm, and slightly nauseous, neither were any good signs, bit both she ignored.

“O-oh hey N.” Shit, her voice was a little shaky now too, she placed a palm onto the brick behind her, feeling a bit like she might pass out. Crap, that probably meant Lizzy pinched something in her somewhere, that was great.

“I thought you would've left already. Don't you walk home?” One of his brows were raised, he looked behind her, Tessa had pulled in and was waiting for him.

“Just… enjoying the day…?”

“Why did that sound like a question?” He asked, clearly not believing her in the slightest. Uzi blinked, trying to stifle the painful tremble in her voice.

“It didn't.” She tried, trying to begin to walk away, only to stumble and nearly trip over nothing.

Fuck

“Woah hey! Uzi!” His hands were on her now, she didn't want them to be, she didn't want to be seen as weak, but her stupid body had at this point completely betrayed her, she felt the bile begin to burn it's way into her throat.

Oh shit not he-

She scrambled over to the nearest bush, throwing his hands off her and completely emptied her bruised stomach, holding onto one of those weird round concrete nubs for support.

When she finished, she shakily stood up, wiping her mouth, a small amount of blood coming off onto the back of her hand.

Still… she did feel marginally better.

N was behind her, looking between Tessa's car and her franticly, a hand gently resting on her back. She tried to catch her breath.

She heard a car door slam and rushing footsteps coming her direction before light invaded her vision

I'm about to pass out…

She thought before she felt herself begin to slowly fall backwards, before all her senses went to static…

Next ->

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #nuzi #biscuitbites #give me a reason #thad's here!#uzi is very much not okay...

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dianawinchester03 · 2 months

Text

Juvenile Detention Center

Series Masterlist

Summary: After Y/N was sentenced to serve her time in juvie. Adjusting to the new environment has been harder than she expected.

BASED ON:

The Old Testament Series.

Genesis Primis: A Supernatural Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

Part 2 to Juvenile Delinquent. I’d suggest reading that one first before reading this.

(Y/N and Sam are 17 years old, Dean is 21 years old)

Disclaimer: There are mentions of su!c!d€ in this chapter, please read with caution⚠️

🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔

Third Person POV

Y/N was lead through the halls of juvenile detention, her wrists still cuffed together tightly. She was then led into a small cell, the sound of the metal bars slamming behind her making her flinch.

The cell was small and cramped, with a single bunk bed and a small toilet and sink. A small window was the only source of light.

Y/N sank down onto the bed, still cuffed as she looked around the cell, feeling a wave of defeat and hopelessness wash over her.

She ended up being sentenced to a three-month period in juvenile detention, which was a lot longer than expected given her first offense and self-defense claim.

Y/N was surprised and disappointed by the length of her sentence. The judge had seemed sympathetic, but the prosecution had argued that Y/N needed to be taught a lesson and made an example of.

After her sentencing, she was led back to her cell, her wrists still cuffed together. Praying the possibility of her case getting extradited was still in the books but there was no hope.

Stella had won, and right now she’s probably attempting to sink her claws into Xander and giving poor Sammy hell as Y/N sat in a cell for letting her anger get the best of her.

Y/N sat on the bed in her cell, staring up at the concrete ceiling as tears streamed down her face. The reality of her situation was setting in, and it was hitting her hard.

She was alone, trapped in a cell with no way out. She couldn't help but feel ashamed and angry with herself for letting her anger get the best of her and ending up in this situation. She knew she had let everyone down, including herself.

Two weeks had passed since Y/N started her sentence in juvenile detention. It had been a long and grueling time, marked by monotony and boredom.

Y/N spent most days sitting in her cell, staring at the walls, lost in her thoughts. She missed her family, her friends, and the life she had left behind. Hunting wasn’t perfect but she’d rather go toe to toe with a Wendigo right now than be stuck in this cell. She felt trapped and hopeless, with no one to talk to except the occasional guard.

She had made one or two ‘friends’ in the cafeteria, if you count getting her pudding cup stolen by the more broad girls a ‘friend’.

It took all in her not to go hunter on them, constantly reminding herself that if she did that, she would get more time added to her sentence and it would not be good for anyone.

She had gotten a few letters here and there from her boyfriend Xander but had yet to respond. Too ashamed to face him, she knows he wants to come and visit her. He’s stated so in his multiple letters of encouragement but she doesn’t want him to see her like that.

Sam sent her some old newspapers to play Sudoku and Dean somehow managed to smuggle in a walkman for her, making her a tape of all her favorite bands and music. From Backstreet Boys to *NSYNC to Metallica to Bon Jovi.

It warmed her heart but she made sure not to let the guards find it.

Currently in the cafeteria, it was visiting day. Part of her was hoping they finally allowed her visitation but the other part didn’t want to go. Ashamed for her family to see her like this.

Y/N sat alone at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, pushing her food around on her plastic tray. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face her family yet.

She could feel the eyes of other inmates on her, some with smirks on their faces as they whispered among themselves. Y/N ignored them, trying to focus on her food and not let their words affect her.

“L/N! You’ve got visitors” A voice boomed behind her, making her flinch a bit. Initially she thought someone was gonna try to steal her pudding again but her heart fluttered, her visitation had been processed.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the announcement that she had visitors. She looked up from her food, her eyes widening with surprise and excitement. Could it be her family?

"Thanks" she replied, standing up from her seat and following the guard out of the cafeteria. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and hope as she headed towards the room where the visits were held.

As she entered the room, she looked around eagerly, her heart racing in her chest. And then she saw them. Her family, standing by the door, waiting for her.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she saw the familiar faces. Her father and John, with worried but hopeful expressions etched on their faces. Her best-friend, Sam, standing beside him, fidgeting nervously. And standing behind them was Dean, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

His eyes darted around the area, looking for any sign of y/n.

“Daddy! John! Sammy! Dean!” She called out to them, waving as the guard held her by her arm, cuffs gripped around her wrists. It was standard for assault convicts but it didn’t make her feel any less of a threat.

Her dad, F/N and John both looked relieved to see her, their faces breaking into small smiles as they stepped forward.

Sam and Dean didn't hesitate to push forward as well, both looking very relieved to see her. Both brothers tried to get as close as possible, hating to see Y/N cuffed like a criminal.

The Winchester boys engulfed their friend in the tightest hug, Y/N let out a shaky breath of relief that the boys weren’t mad at her, instead, was happy to see her as she relaxed into the hug. “Hey fellas” She sniffled.

Sam and Dean leaned down and wrapped their arms around Y/N, hugging her tightly. Dean was the first to speak, his tone dripping with relief "Hey Princess" he said, his voice low as he buried his face in her hair.

Sam was next to speak, his expression filled with worry as he looked over Y/N "We've been worried sick about you" he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know me, I’m taking names and kicking asses” She feigned a chuckle as they walked her over to the table, helping her take a seat infront of her father and John before sitting besides their fathers themselves.

Her dad and John both chuckled at Y/N's attempt at making a joke, but the worry in their eyes was still evident.

John spoke up first, his tone gruff but concerned "How are you holding up in there, kiddo?" he asked, his eyes searching her face for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine Mr. Winchester” Y/N assured him, giving him a firm nod. Half expecting to get the cold shoulder from her father and John.

Her dad shook his head, his expression pained "Don't give us that, baby. We know it ain't easy in there." he said, his voice filled with concern.

John nodded in agreement, his expression stoic as he spoke "We know you're a tough kid, but it's okay to admit if you're struggling."

“Jesus, who are you two? I was expecting to get lectured” Y/N chuckled dryly, sniffling a bit. “I’m fine, daddy. I promise” She turned to her father, offering him a smile but they all called bullshit.

John and F/N exchanged a glance, both looking doubtful of Y/N's claim that she was fine.

John spoke up first, his eyes fixed on Y/N "Kid, we know you're putting up a tough front for our sake but we can see through it. You ain't fooling no one" he said, his tone firm but caring.

“You've always been a tough cookie, but even tough cookies get crumbles sometime” Her father added in a firm tone.

Y/N’s eyes got trapped on the table, biting her lip to stable herself. “Have you guys heard from Xander?” Y/N asked hopefully, mainly to change the subject.

The room fell silent as the mention of Xander's name brought up an entirely different set of emotions. F/N’s jaw clenched, he had no control over who his daughter saw, but he didn’t like it.

Mainly for the fact that he’s scared if she’ll get too attached and want to leave the life. He knows Sammy was desperate to do so, witnessing many arguments between the patriarch and youngest Winchester.

He didn’t want his daughter to follow that path, knowing she’s better in the life and under his control. Which is exactly what she and her father constantly butted heads for.

His controlling habit.

Sam spoke up first, his tone gentle "We've heard from him" he said, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “He’s pretty worried about you, y’know” Dean chimed in, his voice soft as he gave her a reassuring smile. “He's been writing to you, hasn’t he?”

Y/N nodded, “He’s mentioned coming to visit and adding him to my list a few times but I’m not sure….I don’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want any of you to see me like this”

F/N, John and the boys all exchanged a sympathetic glance at Y/N's admission. They could understand her hesitation to let Xander, or any of them see her in this situation.

“If you guys see him, could you give this to him for me” Y/N handed Sam a letter she had kept with her for Xander, tucked away in her pants. Sam carefully took the letter from Y/N, his expression filled with understanding. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he held the letter.

“Of course, we’ll give this to him.” he promised. Y/N smiled gratefully in return before turning to Dean. “Thanks for the Walkman” She whispered.

Dean grinned, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the Walkman. "No problem, Princess. I knew you'd be going crazy in there without some tunes." he said, his tone light and teasing.

“I’d go crazy by just eating whatever meat they serve here” She snorted. John chuckled in agreement "I can only imagine what they’re serving you girls in there. Probably just slop." he said, his tone gruff but amused.

Dean nodded, a smirk on his face as he added "Yeah, and probably tastes like shoe leather and cardboard, right?"

“Pfftt, I’d kill for something that tastes like shoe leather and cardboard right about now. It’s better than the crap they dish out here, that’s for sure” The mood in the room lightened as they all laughed at Y/N's comment. Even John couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at her dry humor.

“Ah, there’s the Y/N we all know and love.” Dean teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

By the time the next visitation day rolled around, Y/N had been in juvenile detention for a full month now. Despite the challenges and monotony of life in juvie, she had managed to keep her spirits up thanks in large part to her friends and family.

Finally, the day had come again for visiting day, and Y/N was anxiously waiting to see who had come to visit her today. “L/N! You’ve got visitors” A voice boomed behind y/n.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the announcement of her visitors. She turned around, eager to see who had come to see her this time. "Thanks," she replied to the guard before following him to the visitation room.

The guard held Y/N by the arm, her eyes widening when she saw Alexander, Sam and Dean this time. Xander had a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a letter in his hand for her. He wished he could bring more but the Winchester boys informed him that they’d get confiscated the second she hit the cells.

Y/N's heart fluttered at the sight of Xander standing there with Sam and Dean. The bouquet of flowers in his hand brought a smile to her face, and the letter made her heart race with anticipation. "Xander!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise and joy.

Sam was smiling, pleased to see how happy Y/N was to see Xander as Dean swallowed hard. They watched as she practically ran forward, as much as the guard would allow, to greet her boyfriend.

Xander enveloped Y/N in a tight hug, holding her close. He whispered "Hey, baby" into her ear as he buried his face in her hair. The sight of her there, locked up behind bars, broke his heart, and he had missed her so much.

“I can’t believe you’re here” She relaxed into the hug, her eyes glancing over to the boys behind Xander, Dean stood with his hands buried in his pockets. His eyes darting all over the room while Sam wore a big grin.

Sam’s eyes flickered over to his brother who had a clear look of discomfort on his face at the scene playing infront of him. He snorted lightly which earned a confused look from his brother.

Xander pulled back slightly to look Y/N in the eyes, his expression filled with relief and love. He was so happy to finally see her again after all this time.

Meanwhile, Sam caught the look on Dean's face and couldn't help but smirk a bit. He knew that look all too well, and it was clear to him that his brother was feeling uneasy about seeing Y/N with Xander.

“Fellas!” Y/N exclaimed, hugging her friends. Dean's demeanor immediately changed as Y/N hugged him, wrapping his arms around her and trying to hide his discomfort. He gave her a smile, pretending everything was fine.

"Hey, princess" he said warmly. Meanwhile, Sam hugged her back tightly, his grin wide as he spoke up "How are you holding up, y/n/n?"

“I’m happy now that you’re all here” She smiled, tears welling up in her eyes again before darting them over to the flowers. “Those for me?” She grinned at Xander.

Xander chuckled and nodded, holding out the bouquet of flowers to her. "Of course. I know they're your favorites."

He watched as Y/N's expression brightened, taking the bouquet in her cuffed hands. The look on her face made him glad he had brought them for her.

“Thank you, sweetie” She sighed, accepting them as she sat on the bench. Xander sat next to her as Sam and Dean sat across. He wanted to wrap his arms around her again but the boys mentioned that guards might cut the visit short for too much interaction.

The boys all sat down opposite Xander and Y/N, their expressions a mix of happiness and concern. They were happy to see her looking cheerful, but at the same time, they knew the reality of the situation.

Sam fidgeted in his seat, looking around the room as he spoke "It's good to see you're doing alright in here, Y/N."

Dean leaned back in his seat, trying his best to appear nonchalant. But his eyes kept darting between Y/N and Xander, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in his chest.

He had zero idea why the hell he was feeling like that. Maybe he’s coming down with a cold ? He cleared his throat before speaking up "Yeah, you look good, princess."

“I’ve been better and I’ve been worse but I’ve only got two more months and then I’m a free woman” She chuckled dryly.

Sam and Xander both tried to remain positive, giving her small smiles, but Dean couldn't help but let out a scoff at her statement.

He leaned forward, his expression serious as he spoke "Two months too long. You don't belong in here. This whole situation is bullshit."

“You don’t have to tell me twice, charming. But we don’t got much of a choice here” She sighed, reaching over to place a comforting hand on her friend's forearm. “Just don’t let Sammy and John kill each other” Y/N chuckled.

Xander let out a small laugh at Y/N's attempt to lighten the mood. Even Sam let out a snort, shaking his head at her comment.

Dean, however, remained serious, his expression still filled with irritation. He tried to force a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, "Trust me. I've been trying to keep those two from each other's throats, but it's like herding cats."

“And make sure dad doesn’t find my stash of cigarettes. He doesn’t smoke the ones I do but he’d rather smoke it than buy more with his cheap ass” She added firmly.

Sam let out a small laugh at Y/N's comment. He knew her dad well enough to know that he always was one to buy expensive cigarettes, but with the price skyrocketing, he wouldn't mind smoking his daughter’s stash, even if it meant smoking something he didn’t particularly like.

Dean, on the other hand, rolled jokingly his eyes at her comment. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make sure your secret stash stays safe from your dad’s tight budget." He chuckled.

“So, you got a prison wife yet?” Dean joked, nudging her over the table. Y/N let out a bark of laughter at Dean’s question, rolling her eyes playfully at him.

She shot him a mock glare, "Please, as if any of the girls in here could compare to my Xander." She retorted, leaning against her boyfriend for emphasis.

Sam and Xander both laughed at Y/N's response, clearly amused by her joke. Even Dean couldn’t help a small chuckle slip through his lips.

Xander wrapped an arm around Y/N, pulling her close to him. "Damn right." He agreed with a grin. “But I’m keeping my options open” She whispered jokingly to the boys.

The boys all laughed at Y/N's joking remark, enjoying the light-hearted banter. Sam chuckled, shaking his head at her comment "Sure you are, crackhead."

Dean snorted, a playful smirk on his lips.

Xander raised an eyebrow, his expression turning playful as he played along. “Oh yeah? Who’s caught your eye in here?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light but not entirely succeeding in hiding the slight hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“Easy darling, you’re the only blonde hottie I love” She chuckled, assuring him before laying a kiss on his cheek. Xander's expression softened, his possessive undertone disappearing as Y/N reassured him with a kiss on the cheek.

He knew she was just playing, but he couldn't help but feel a bit possessive over her. Sam and Dean both chuckled at the exchange, clearly amused by the couple's banter as Dean clenched his jaw subtly. Sam nudged Dean's side jokingly, whispering,

"Jealous, much?" in a low tone so the couple, who were busy chatting away and gossiping about school couldn’t hear.

Dean’s expression darkened slightly at Sam's whisper, and he shot his brother a quick glare.

“Shut up the fuck up Sammy.” He muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself he wasn’t feeling jealous but failing miserably. The truth was, the sight of Xander and Y/N together was making him feel all sorts of things he didn’t want to admit.

Was he gonna admit that? Fuck no. Y/N is basically his sister, he couldn’t possibly feel that way about her….right?

Plus, F/N and John would drag his ass for even looking at her like that. She wouldn’t dare do that and neither would he….right?

Sam chuckled at his brother's defensive reaction, clearly enjoying getting him riled up.

“Oh, lighten up, dude. I'm just messing with you,” he said, his tone lighthearted yet teasing.

But deep down, Sam sensed that there was more to Dean's reaction than just being teased by his younger brother. He knew Dean well enough to know that there was something else bothering him, but he didn’t press the matter further, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Y/N and Xander

As the visitation time came to an end, the boys all stood up reluctantly, knowing their time with Y/N was up.

Xander pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped around her tightly.

“I’ll come see you again soon,” he promised, kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you soon” She smiled tearfully before laying a quick but chaste kiss on his lips.

The guards approached the group, signaling that it was time to go.

Xander gave Y/N one last squeeze before reluctantly letting go, his eyes lingering on her face as if imprinting it in his memory. "I love you," he whispered.

Y/N’s heart dropped, Xander had said this before but she had always been hesitant to return it. Not that she wouldn’t mean it but because part of her had a feeling this relationship wouldn’t last.

She deeply wanted it to, but they’re so young. She’s a hunter and Xander was a civilian. It would’ve never worked out in the end. But she’s gonna enjoy it as long as she could.

Because she did care for him, it may not have been love. But she cared for him deeply. They were each other's first, that’s a bond no one could compare to. “I love you too” She whispered back, reattaching her lips to his in a gentle peck.

Dean watched the couple's loving farewell with a neutral expression on his face, but his chest felt heavy as if someone had punched him in the gut.

He avoided Sam's gaze, not wanting his brother to see the range of emotions he was feeling right now. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, though, gauging his reaction.

“Bye fellas” Y/N smiled at the Winchester boys, reaching over to hug them. Sam wrapped his arms around Y/N, giving her a tight hug. He whispered a quiet, “Take care of yourself, y/n/n” in her ear before letting her go.

Dean hugged her next, his arms enveloping her in a firm embrace. He wanted to hold her longer, to say something - anything - to express the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him. But all he could manage was a gruff "Later, princess" as he reluctantly pulled away.

One day, as Y/N made her way through the lunch line, she was suddenly shoved from behind, sending her spilling to the hard floor with a surprised cry.

Two girls, Bianca and Taylor, were the ones who had shoved her. Bianca wore a sneer on her face while Taylor stood behind her, giggling at Y/N's expense.

Lord, it’s like Stella but make it ghetto. Y/N groaned internally

Her milk spilled besides her, lunch scattered across the floor as she pushed herself up on her elbows with a small grunt. Trying to calm herself, “Thanks I like it better on the floor” She quipped.

Bianca and Taylor snickered as they watched Y/N try to pick herself up from the floor, clearly enjoying seeing her humiliated.

“Oops, my bad” Taylor said in a fake sweet tone, feigning innocence.

Bianca sauntered closer, looking down at Y/N with a cruel smirk. "Looks like someone needs to watch where they're going."

Y/N gritted her teeth, trying to keep her anger in check. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her hurt or angry.

"Yeah, because someone pushed me!" she retorted, shooting a glare up at the girls. She slowly started picking up her scattered lunch as best as she could, trying to salvage what was left.

Bianca and Taylor chuckled at Y/N's response, clearly enjoying taunting her even more.

“Oh, boo-hoo. Cry me a river” Bianca sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re so weak, it’s pathetic.”

Taylor chimed in, “Yeah, you can't even defend yourself. What happened? Did your boyfriend leave you?” she taunted, referring to Xander's lack of visits.

“At least I have a boyfriend. What do you have?” Y/N scoffed, her tongue loosening unconsciously as she picked up her discarded lunch.

Bianca and Taylor's smirks fell momentarily at Y/N's comeback, taken aback by her audacity. They had been expecting her to cower or cry, not fight back.

But they quickly recovered, their expressions hardening.

"Watch it, newbie," Bianca warned, her voice cold.

"Yeah, know your place,” Taylor added, stepping closer to Y/N, attempting to intimidate her. Y/N waved her hand over her nose as I she’s fanning away Taylor breath, “And you, get some toothpaste” She retorted before moving to the bin to toss her lunch.

Having lost her appetite. How the fuck are guards not noticing this? Fucking juvie.

Bianca and Taylor gaped at Y/N's retort, clearly not expecting her to have the audacity to talk back like that. But their shock was quickly replaced by anger as Y/N moved away to discard her lunch.

Bianca and Taylor’s faces twist into a sneer, their anger flaring at Y/N's snarky remark. They weren't used to being challenged like this, especially not by a newcomer like Y/N.

Bianca stepped closer, her hands clenching into fists. "You're really pushing your luck, fresh meat."

Taylor chimed in with a snicker, "Yeah, think you're some tough chick, huh? We’ll see how tough you are after we’re done with you."

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me with your breathe?” Y/N snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Taylor's face turned red with fury, her hands clenching into fists. "You little-" She started, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Bianca with a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid. She’s in here for assault” Bianca whispered to Taylor, attempting for y/n not to here but she did.

Y/N's ears perked up as she caught snippets of Bianca's whispered warning to Taylor. So, they knew she was in here for assault, huh? It seemed like news travelled fast in this place.

Y/N kept her expression neutral, pretending not to hear their conversation.

Taylor huffed in annoyance, clearly frustrated that Bianca was holding her back. "I don’t care! She needs to learn her place"

Bianca rolled her eyes at Taylor's stubborn determination to start a fight. She knew that getting into a physical altercation with Y/N would only lead to trouble, not just for them but for Y/N as well.

“We could get in trouble, you idiot!” Bianca hissed, trying to reason with her friend. “Do you want to end up in solitary?”

Taylor let out an exasperated huff, but reluctantly stepped back, knowing that Bianca was right. Getting into a fight in here could lead to serious consequences for both of them.

“Fine, you’re right,” she grudgingly agreed, her eyes never leaving Y/N. “But this isn’t over. We’ll get her when no one’s around.”

“Ouuu, enticing. I like candles and chocolates” Y/N mocked, flashing Taylor a saucy wink before rolling her eyes and walking out of the cafeteria.

Bianca and Taylor watched as Y/N sauntered out of the cafeteria with a smirk, unable to believe the audacity this girl had.

Taylor clenched her jaw, the audacity of this girl was infuriating. "Who does she think she is?" she hissed to Bianca, her hands clenching into fists. "I’m gonna make her pay for that."

Bianca rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "Calm down, Tay. She’s just trying to get under our skin. Don’t let her get to you."

Y/N was walking down an empty hallway, lost in thought after a particularly dull class. As she turned a corner, she suddenly found herself surrounded by Bianca and Taylor, their smirks sending chills down her spine.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Bianca said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "All alone."

“Damn, I’ve been never one for a three way. But I’m always down to experiment” Y/N sassed, chuckling dryly. She knew she shouldn’t be pining them on but she’s allowing her anger to get the best of her again.

Bianca and Taylor’s expressions darkened at Y/N’s insolent remark, clearly not amused by her attitude.

”Feisty, aren’t you?” Bianca said with a scoff, her eyes narrowing in irritation. “You’ve got a smart mouth, I’ll give you that. Do you know what happens to girls with smart mouths in here?”

“No, but I’d like to know what happens to those with nasty mouths” She bit back.

Bianca's face twisted into a sneer, outraged by Y/N's continued insolence. She clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin.

Taylor stepped closer, her own anger rising. "You think you're so tough, huh? Acting all smart-mouthed. You won't be so cocky after we're done with you."

Y/N yawned dramatically, knowing a guard was on their way here to canvas the halls because it’s shift change so she wasn't too worried.

“Is you monologue gonna be over soon?” She yawned, checking her nonexistent watch. “They’re serving meatloaf today and I don’t wanna miss that”

Bianca and Taylor shot each other a frustrated look, clearly annoyed by Y/N's carefree attitude. They knew they didn't have long before a guard came along and stopped them from teaching Y/N a lesson.

Taylor let out an exasperated huff, "You're really pissing me off, newbie."

Bianca shot a glance down the hallway, knowing they didn't have much time to act. "Just shut her up already," she grumbled.

Taylor and Bianca immediately lunged at Y/N, both getting a firm punch at her face before kicking her in her stomach. Y/N didn’t bother to fight back.

“FIGHT BACK YOU SLUT!!” Taylor screamed, kicking her in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

Where the fuck are these damn guards?!

“Come on bitch, don’t make me bend you over like your little boyfriend” Bianca mocked, righthooking the young hunter as she straddled her.

Y/N had given up, she wasn’t gonna fight them. If anything, it’s what she deserved in her head. To get pummeled and beaten, for what she did to Stella. For the trouble she had gotten herself and her family into.

Just then, as Y/N anticipated, a guard rounded the corner, his eyes scanning the hallway. Seeing Y/N getting mauled by Bianca and Taylor, he immediately grappled Biance and Taylor off of the young girl.

“Hey!” The guard yelled, stepping forward and breaking up the commotion. He pushed Bianca and Taylor away from Y/N, his eyes scanning over her.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, his gaze shifting from Y/N to the other two girls, his expression stern.

Y/N crumpled on the floor, clutching her stomach as the metallic taste of blood dripped from her nose and into her mouth.

The guard knelt down beside Y/N, his expression softening as he took in the sight of her bleeding face.

"You all right, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but concerned. He glanced up at Bianca and Taylor, the obvious suspects of the brawl, and shot them a disapproving glare.

He immediately radioed back up on his walkie as Bianca and Taylor ran, as if they had somewhere to hide. The guard waited beside Y/N, keeping watch over her while they waited for backup to arrive. The other guards would deal with Bianca and Taylor for instigating the fight.

His focus was on Y/N right now, making sure she was okay.

Y/N was taken to the infirmary to be treated for her injuries. Her nose was checked for any signs of fractures, and a nurse cleaned the blood from her face. Other than a few cuts and bruises, Y/N was mostly fine, besides the aching pain in her stomach. The nurse told her she was lucky she didn’t have a broken rib.

The guard who broke up the scuffle was standing outside the infirmary, listening to reports of Bianca and Taylor being apprehended and chucked into solitary for starting the fight.

It had been a couple days since the fight, and Y/N's face was now adorned with some bruises and cuts, though the worst of it had healed up. She was sitting in the visitors area, waiting for her next visitor. Her face was stoic as she waited, a heavy feeling on her chest.

There was no doubt in her mind that she was getting tired and depressed by being here. God knows if she had the balls she would’ve ended it by now, but she had two people to hold on for and to hold on to.

Sam and Dean were two of her biggest reasons to keep going. Y/N didn’t want to disappoint or hurt them, yes she loved her father but in the back of her mind, the man could live without her. Knowing him, he’d bury himself into hunting if she died.

In her mind, he’d probably say she's a coward for offing herself but there’s a thin line there. She didn’t know how her father would react if she did it. Would it hurt him? Would he care? She didn’t know, which is something no daughter should ever have to think.

But she knew one thing for sure, it would crush the boys. And that’s the last thing she wants to do in this lifetime.

Preferring to die on a hunt and have them say, “She lived a good life, saving people, hunting things” rather than believe she was selfish and weak.

Sam and Dean appeared through the doors as y/n was deep in thought. Their faces dropped when they saw the state of y/n’s face. Their expressions darkened as their eyes immediately noting the bruises on her face. Not only was she bruised externally, but you could see the pure defeat on her face.

Sam's jaw tensed while Dean's hands curled into fists at his sides, a flash of anger passing over his features.

"What the hell happened?” Dean asked, his voice tight with anger as he approached Y/N’s table, Sam following closely behind. His eyes scanned over her face, assessing the damage.

Dean reached over the table to grab Y/N gently by her chin to examine her face. She winced slightly as he did this, his touch firm but tender.

Dean's touch was gentle as his fingers wrapped around Y/N's chin, tilting her face up to examine the damage. The sight of the bruises and cuts on her face, especially around her nose, made his stomach churn.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice low and hard.

Y/N snorted at the irony of Dean sounding like he was from a 70’s mafia movie. “Relax, Godfather. I didn’t hit back so my sentence is the same” She chuckled dryly, gently taking his hands off her face. Attempting to ease the situation with a bit of humor.

Despite feeling like she could jump off of the Empire State Building.

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at Y/N's quip, even if he was in no mood for jokes right now. "Yeah, hilarious," he grumbled, his arms crossing over his chest.

Sam shot Y/N a concerned look, his eyebrows knitted together in worry. "Why didn't you fight back?" he asked, his tone gentle. Surprised that y/n willingly took a beating. “Sammy, I’m in here for fighting back. I want to get the fuck out of here” Y/N stated as if it’s obvious but that was bullshit and she knew it.

Sam shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of concern and frustration on his face. "You can't just let people beat on you,” he protested. “You should've fought back."

Dean shot Sam a sideways glance, clearly agreeing with him. "Yeah, what good is keeping your hands clean if you're getting your face beat to a pulp?"

“That’s terrible advice guys” She snorted, shaking her head. “They got a week in solitary and I got a butterfly bandage. I’m the real winner here” She said smugly, shrugging, pointing to her pink bandage across her busted eyebrow.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, shaking their heads at Y/N's nonchalant attitude.

"You're unbelievable" Dean said, his voice laced with both frustration and admiration. “You two still love me either way” She teased, sticking her tongue out at them.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in resignation. "You know we do, you crackhead," he retorted, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Dean couldn’t help but crack a small smile at their banter. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean we don't stress over you constantly," he added, his tone stern but his eyes soft.

“I do and I appreciate that, charming.” She offered him a small smile, resting her hand over his that was clamped together on the table gently.

Dean's expression softened at Y/N's touch, his tension easing marginally. He covered her hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Just promise us you'll take care of yourself, princess," he said, his tone gruff but affectionate. “Pinky promise” She smiled, extending her pinky.

Dean huffed out a laugh at Y/N's childish gesture, but he played along, linking his pinky with hers in a pinky promise.

"Better keep that promise," he cautioned, his voice gruff but his eyes amused.

Sam chuckled at the sight of Dean's pinky promise with Y/N, clearly finding the moment humorous. "And they call me the soft one," he teased, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

“You are soft, dipshit” Y/N snorted, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Sam shot her a mock glare, swatting at her hand as she ruffled his hair. "Hey, watch it" he warned, though his tone was light and playful.

“I'm not as soft-hearted as I look," he added, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “And I’m Madonna” Y/N snorted. “Have you guys heard from Xander?” She asked hopefully since it had been almost two weeks since she had seen him, he had written her letters however.

Dean's expression darkened slightly at the mention of Xander, a flicker of resentment in his eyes.

"Yeah, we’ve heard from him," he said gruffly. "He's doing just fine."

Sam shot a discreet glance at his brother, sensing the tension in Dean's voice, before turning back to Y/N.

"He's been asking about you," he chimed in, offering a reassuring smile.

“That’s good” Y/N sighed, “Guards confiscated my pens and paper a last week so I couldn’t get to write him back. Don’t ask why, I have no idea” She scoffed.

“But I still have the Walkman” Y/N whispered to Dean, a grin tugging at her lips.

Dean's irritation melted away at the mention of the Walkman, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Damn right you do" he whispered back, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “No skipping tracks, I took my time picking those songs. Even if you have questionable taste in music” He warned snickering.

Y/N rolled her eyes at this, “You leave Bon Jovi and Backstreet Boys out of this, you’re just jealous” Y/N scoffed, sticking her tongue out at him.

Dean rolled his eyes again, his heart skipping a beat at the way she scrunched her nose up when she stuck her tongue out, but the amusement was obvious on his face.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head at their exchange. "You two are hopeless." he muttered, though there was a hint of fondness in his tone.

"How did you even manage to keep it from the guards?" Sam asked, a mix of awe and disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, they have a way of sniffing out contraband," Dean added, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Y/N smirked, her gaze flickering between Sam and Dean.

"Let's just say I have my ways" she teased, her tone cryptic.

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly curious, but he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he chuckled and shook his head.

The day finally came for Y/N's release. After months behind bars, she was now walking out the prison gates, a sense of freedom in the air.

Dean and Sam were there to greet her, both wearing grins on their faces.

“Y/N/N!” Sam clapped her on the back as she approached, pulling his best friend into a hug instantly before ruffling her hair.

“Ready to go home, jailbird?” Dean teased, earning a smack from Y/N after she hugged Sam. He chuckled before she reached over, grabbing him into a hug next.

“God I need a burger and a cookie, stat!” She groaned, relaxing into his hug as his chin propped at the top of her head. “Where’s Daddy and John?” She asked.

Dean chuckled at her request for food, patting her on the cheek as he released her from the hug.

"Your wish is our command," Sam teased. "We'll get you that burger and cookie as soon as we get back."

Dean stepped in to answer her second question, a sly grin on his face. "F/N and Dad are waiting at the house," he explained. "They're gonna be happy to see you."

“And Xander?” She asked. Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look, Dean expressions growing more serious as Sam’s smile widened.

Dean was the one to answer, his voice gruff but gentle all the same.

"He's there too, princess" he said, his eyes meeting hers. "Been anxious to see you ever since we told him you were coming home today."

Y/N's heart leapt at Dean's words. She could feel a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation swirling inside of her. The thought of seeing Xander after such a long time apart was both thrilling and nerve-wrackingly intimidating.

She managed a small nod, trying to keep her cool. "Great," she said, her voice betraying a hint of tremor. "Can we go now?"

Both boys chuckled at her eagerness, clearly amused by her impatience.

Dean put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward. "Yeah, sweetheart, we can go."

As much as she did miss Xander, she knew deep down that she missed her family more. They meant the world to her and she’d go above and beyond to protect them, even if that meant spending time behind bars for a damaged jacket and standing up to a bully for her best friend.

🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔🚔

Author's Note: Yes I made P2 immediately. Did I spend the whole day making it? Yes. Do I regret it? Fuck now XD

It’s a lot of filler, not much action but I loved this one❤️

Please note that I have never been to juvie or have a lot of professional knowledge of it. Everything I know comes from the little research I did and all of the police procedural shows I’ve watched lol.

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

How everyone enjoyed!

Xoxo

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 7 months

Text

Napoleonville [Chapter 9: Clarence House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, Adventures with Aegon (ft. Sunfyre the Ferret), Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, and no more hints for you, start reading!!!

Word Count: 8.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥰🧁

He returns in an afternoon of inescapable golden sunlight, hot and muggy, bumble bees and ladybugs wheeling lazily above tall grass, cumulus clouds like tufts of cotton in a sky the color of Aemond’s eye. You hear him talking to Cadi—she’s out in the front yard making mud pies, earth for sugar and sprinkles of stray pelican feathers—and then the weight of his footsteps on the sinking, sloping porch. He opens the door, never locked, and walks through the living room into the kitchen. From behind, his arms circle around your waist; and you’ve missed him so much—dreaming of waves and storms, chains and blood—that you have nothing for him but softness, gentle smiles and a voice hushed with relief.

“How was Norway?” you ask as you roll out dough on the counter. You’re making a buttermilk pie.

“Fine,” Aemond says, resting his chin on your shoulder. But he sounds tired, low.

You turn around to look at him, raising your fingertips to his unscarred right cheek; he won’t tolerate you touching the left. You leave a dusting of flour across his skin like snow, which you have never seen in person and likely never will. The air conditioner is humming. The little pink Panasonic boombox is playing Africa by Toto. “Did something happen?”

“I just missed you.” Then he brightens. “But I was greeted by some very welcome news when I got back to the house this morning.” He’s wearing his neon teal duffle bag. He drops it to the floor and unzips it; inside you glimpse several Nintendo game cartridges, presumably for Cadi. And you think: I’m always here making things, he’s always bringing them from far away. Aemond takes two small dark blue booklets out of a pocket in the inner lining of the duffle bag and gives them to you. On the front of each is embossed in gold lettering, along with an emblem of a bald eagle: Passport, United States of America.

“…Aemond?!”

“There’s one for you and one for Cadi. I submitted the forms a month ago, but even with expedited processing it took this long. Ridiculous. What does the government do all day besides hunt down social programs to defund?”

“But…but…” You open one of the booklets. A photograph of your own face gazes back at you, serious and serene, taken against the white wall of your bedroom before you knew about Aemond being a Targaryen, or Christabel, or Amir’s exodus to San Franscisco, or the profound futility of everything, it seems. “How…?”

“I took the pictures, obviously. The rest was easy enough to find. You store birth certificates and social security cards the same place where you keep the business records that Amir showed me. Typically people have to go to a passport agency in person, but Criston and I have ways around that. Your signature might have been forged on the applications…but I suspect you won’t be filing any police reports.” Aemond grins, pleased with himself. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely surprising.” You stare down at the passports, amazed. “Aemond…this is a lot. But you already know that.”

“The whole time I was gone, I was wishing you could be there too. And now I can take you anywhere.”

Your heart is pounding, helpless childlike exhilaration. “Where are we going?”

“Clarence House in London.”

London: it’s another world, a distant planet, a constellation whose name you don’t know, the lost city of Atlantis.“Clarence House? Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a royal residence,” Aemond says, amused. “It’s officially the home of the Queen Mother, but the whole family goes to Balmoral in Scotland every summer, and while they’re gone they often rent out one wing to guests, not just anyone, trusted people like distant cousins or longtime, aristocratic friends. And the Targaryens…”

“You’re marrying Christabel, and she’s nobility. So you’re basically nobility now too.”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, a little guiltily, perhaps. “But you’re the person I’m inviting.”

“And Cadi.”

Now he’s genuinely puzzled. “Of course. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

Maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can make this work.

And you climb onto your tiptoes to circle your arms around the back of his neck, embracing him, thanking him, thinking: Christabel will have his ring, his last name, his family’s mansion, his acquiescent kiss at the altar of the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens…but I have what he’s made of, dreams, soul, bones in the abyss of an ocean of blood. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

First class, cheerful stewardesses, an array of magazines purchased from a gift shop in New Orleans International Airport: the National Enquirer and Food & Wine for you, The Face and Smithsonian for Aemond, and National Geographic Kids and Zoobooks for Cadi. The Zoobooks animal this month is the eagle, how quintessentially American. You are served antipasto Italiano, shrimp cocktail, Perrier, and champagne (Cadi gets a Shirley Temple) over the Atlantic Ocean. Aemond shows you and Cadi how to chew gum to pop your ears as the pressure builds to pain. When there is turbulence and he leans in close to tell you everything is fine, Aemond smells like Wrigley’s Doublemint, cologne, Marlboro cigarettes like the logo on his red and white jacket. You press your palm to the cool window, and clouds float by through the gaps between your fingers. The world is older than anything you could fathom; the world is brand new.

There is a black limousine waiting outside Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. The driver gets out to load the sparse luggage: Aemond’s teal duffle bag, a frayed and battered rolling suitcase that you borrowed from your mother, a Super Mario Bros. backpack that you found for Cadi at Kmart. Aemond doesn’t have much time to spare, only 4 days, practically a long weekend; but it feels like an eternity stretches out in front of you as the limousine zooms through the narrow, winding streets of downtown London, Starship’s We Built This City piping from the radio. You have never had more than a few uninterrupted hours with Aemond before. Now you will have a hundred.

The London air is cool, grey, misty; fresh rainwater bleeds into puddles, dark pools of mirrorlike reflections. With the windows rolled down and clean slate-colored air unfurling in your lungs, Aemond points to the landmarks you pass: Gunnersbury Park, Chiswick House and its gardens, cathedrals, museums, shopping districts, centuries-old cemeteries, stations of the London Underground, the River Thames, Hyde Park, the Ritz Hotel, Buckingham Palace, Saint James’ Palace, and at last Clarence House. It is a boxy white four-story townhouse with columns at the entranceway that remind you of the Targaryens’ estate on the shore of Lake Verret, the beautiful yet temporary home they call The Last Desire.

Aemond says that the entire first floor will be yours for the duration of your stay. There is the Lancaster Room, red and gold, and the Morning Room of creams and weak watery blue. There is the Library, the Dining Room, and the vibrantly pink Horse Corridor named for its ample equine paintings and sculptures; Cadi immediately proclaims this to be the best part of the house. She lingers in the hallway examining the art pieces as you and Aemond proceed to the Garden Room, which looks out upon a sea of lavender and shrubs meticulously shaped into a maze no higher than your waist. It has a golden harp and a grand piano, and a vast bed large enough for at least five people, in your estimation. I wonder if Aemond has ever tried that, you think distractedly. I wonder if there are temptations I can’t satisfy for him.

“You and Cadi can have this room,” Aemond says. He keeps wincing and bringing his hand up to the left side of his face; you doubt he’s even aware of it. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.” Of course he will; Cadi thinks you’re just friends, and she’s aware he’s getting married to someone else. He knew exactly what it would mean when he bought a passport for her. “Queen Elizabeth and her husband Philip lived here before she ascended to the throne. They loved it so much that at first they refused to move to Buckingham Palace, which is the traditional residence of the reigning monarch. But their insolence was worn down. No one gets to break the rules.”

I shouldn’t be in this place, you keep thinking as you gaze around at the portraits on the wall, the stiff unnatural photographs of royals, the vases, the chandeliers, the fireplaces, the plush intricate rugs, the garden on the other side of the windows. People like me don’t belong here. “Aemond, are you alright?”

“It’s my eye,” he confesses with an uneasy, apologetic smirk. “Sometimes flights…the altitude changes…it aggravates the nerve damage. It’s like needles in my skull. But I’ll be okay.”

“You fly a lot for work, don’t you?” You hurt yourself for Viserys, in body and soul.

“I do,” he agrees. He unzips his duffle bag and produces a bottle of Percocet. “Why do you think I carry these around?”

“Take one,” you say. “Lie down, rest. Cadi and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours.”

He’s relieved, he’s grateful. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can even borrow the bed.”

“Back between your sheets, huh?” Aemond says, in pain but smiling through it. He draws a semicircle from the part in your hair down to your chin, a weightless sweep of his fingertips like a kind breeze. “You are incurable. You can’t resist me.”

“I have my own scheme in mind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You grab the front of his Marlboro jacket, appropriate for the overcast London weather. He belongs here, this house, this city, this way of life. He wasn’t made for the primordial heat of the swamplands. You fold into him, close enough to tease, to quicken his heartbeat and momentarily clear the wounded furrows from his brow. “I want my pillows to smell like you. I want to breathe you in all night. It’s how I sleep best.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Aemond says, a little stunned; but he’s elated too. For a moment, you’ve distracted him from his suffering entirely. “I’ll roll around all over them. I will mar the bedding irrevocably, the Queen Mother will never invite me back.” And he watches as you leave, his gaze transfixed and meditative and—more than anything else—hopeful.

“Hey, honey,” you say when you find Cadi in the Horse Corridor, poking a 100-year-old oil painting that she is definitely not supposed to be touching. “Let’s go explore and grab some dinner. Aemond isn’t feeling great, but we’ll hang out with him later.”

“Is it his face?”

You are startled. She knows so much. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

“He showed me,” Cadi says casually, still peering up at the horse; and you remember the day when he took her out to the front yard after she said she wished you were more like her friends’ mothers. “He even let me touch it. Radical, right? It’s so gross, but super cool too.”

Aemond couldn’t stand for me to see how he was maimed, but he forced himself to endure it for Cadi. “What did he tell you?”

“That I should appreciate having a good mom, because not all parents treat their kids right. He said his dad let his eye get crushed. And he told me he’d bet $1 million that you’d snap someone’s neck if they hurt me like that.”

You reach out to skim your fingers through her dark disheveled hair, smiling faintly, fondly. Cadi doesn’t seem to mind. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Can we get fish and chips?”

“Totally. I have 50 British pounds in my wallet, I assume that’s enough for dinner.”

“Wow! How much is 50 pounds in dollars?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “Let’s go spend them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evenings, you, Cadi, and Aemond gather around the television in the Lancaster Room and help yourself to the extensive VHS collection stocked for guests. You let Cadi pick: Raiders Of The Lost Ark, The Terminator, Firestarter, the Karate Kid, Aliens. You make popcorn in the extravagant kitchen in the basement of Clarence House and the three of you devour bowlfuls of it as you giggle on the couch, engulfed with throw pillows and playfully kicking at each other beneath the blankets. One night at Cadi’s request you bake Betty Crocker’s Party Rainbow Chip cupcakes with mix purchased at a Tesco down the street; on another you make hot chocolate to sip from antique tea cups. Each day, Aemond has new destinations picked out to tour. You ride the Underground like true Londoners to the Hampton Court Palace, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery, the Kew Gardens, Imperial College where Aemond received the petroleum engineering degree he never wanted.

As he shows you the classrooms where he attended lectures and seminars—you aren’t sure what the difference is, though you can sense that there is one—Aemond doesn’t talk about math or oil drilling. Instead, he tells you and Cadi about the people he learned about in the history classes he managed to slip into his exacting schedule like splinters into flesh: Sir Harold Gillies who pioneered plastic surgery in his treatment of World War I veterans, Phillis Wheatley who was enslaved as a child and became a renowned poet and abolitionist, Boudicca who led a rebellion against the Roman invaders and upon her defeat succumbed to some tragic, enigmatic doom. Aemond loves stories like this, you can see the light that sparks into the crystalline blue of his right eye. There is nothing he deems more heroic than people who took circumstances beyond their control and made something worthwhile out of them.

The night before the flight back to New Orleans, you’re staring at the crown molding of the Garden Room as Cadi snores softly from the other end of the massive bed and silvery moonlight covers the world. You can’t stop your thoughts from roiling like the North Sea; you can’t stop thinking about desks and chairs and books and clever blue-blooded girls jotting down in their notebooks not cake orders but mathematical equations or dates of conquest. When you breathe in the smoke and cologne Aemond left on your pillows, it tastes dark and forbidden. You climb out of the bed, roomy Bob Dylan t-shirt, pink cotton shorts, hair loose and wild, bare feet.

He is outside pacing around the sundial in the center of the garden, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette and pondering the full moon. “Can’t sleep?” Aemond asks, exhaling smoke as he glances over at you.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“What?” He stops pacing. “Why?”

“Imperial College,” you say. “And the sorts of people who go to places like that. You must have known a lot of women who could recite Shakespear and name all the kings of England, all of Jupiter’s moons. Things I never learned. Things that I have no use for. I don’t write books or design machines or study the secrets of the universe. I bake cupcakes.”

“And they’re brilliant,” Aemond says, smiling. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No?”

“No,” Aemond insists. “I think that if you’d been born where I was, you would have done far more with it.”

“Aemond…” You walk across the wet cobblestones to meet him by the sundial. It’s been raining again. The night air is chilly, foggy, painting you with goosebumps. “You still have time to become who you want to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

It’s coming from somewhere, distant but still audible, a parked car or a nearby building: Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Aemond chuckles, flicks the end of his cigarette into the lavender bushes—surely against the rules—and takes your hands in his.

“I remember this,” he says as he dances with you slowly, clumsily; you don’t know the steps. Still, you don’t want him to stop. “In your kitchen.”

He remembers everything. “Right before we went to Olive Garden for the first time.”

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “Of course that’s the part you committed to memory.”

“I’ve held onto a few other details too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like how small the back seat of your Audi Quattro is.”

“A limousine would be far more comfortable. I should invest in one.”

You laugh as he twirls you and you trip over your own feet; he pulls you upright before you can fall to the slick cobblestones. And you think: This is real. No matter what happens between him and anyone else, what we have is safe and extraordinary and real.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cupcake,” Aemond murmurs through your hair, holding you without seeking more. “You and Cadi.”

You want him again, or you’re so close to wanting him that the line is less of a boundary than a quagmire, indistinct edges and quicksand that can drag you down to drown in it. “I never knew that this was possible. Thank you, Aemond.”

“It can be like this all the time.”

Not all the time, you think, knowing that there will always be Jade Dragon, the Targaryens, the stock market, the world, the past and the future, Christabel. But some of it.

Is that enough?

~~~~~~~~~~

Willis agreed to you and Aemond taking Cadi out of the country on one condition: that you return her to him the second you arrive back in Napoleonville. It’s late Tuesday afternoon when the plane’s wheels hit the runway and squeal to a halt. Aemond has left his red Audi in the Park-and-Ride lot. You collect the car and soar west on Route 10 into the red-gold horizon, chasing the setting sun.

“Daddy!” Cadi bellows when she throws open the front door of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office, waving his gift bag excitedly. Inside is a refrigerator magnet, several packages of McVitie’s Digestives in different flavors, and a miniature red-coated Queen’s Guard to keep on his desk, perpetually covered with disorganized papers and crumbs from innumerable desserts. From her poster on the wall, Heather Locklear simpers at you. At the center of the dartboard, poor Tommy Lee is impaled in four different places.

“Comment ca va, cherie?!” Willis opens his arms to hug Cadi when she barrels into him. He guffaws, his eyes are shiny; he has missed her. “Ya had a real good time, I reckon?”

“It was totally tubular. But I’m glad I’m home now. Can I get a horse? His name is Patches and I love him.”

“Huh? What the hell ya need a horse for?” He peeks around Cadi to look at you, a curious blue gaze beneath the thick dark bangs of his mullet. “What’s she talkin’ ‘bout, sugar?”

Beside you, Aemond groans irritably. Then you hear a voice from one of the holding cells, almost always empty: “Hey, cake lady.”

“Aegon?!” you and Aemond say at once, and sure enough, when you check the last holding cell there he is: unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, rainbow flip flops, hair like he’s been in a hurricane, a new eyebrow piercing.

Aemond asks Willis: “What did he do?”

Willis picks up a clipboard from his cluttered desk and begins reading. “Possession with intent to distribute cocaine—”

“I told you, I wasn’t distributing anything! It was for me!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Aemond pleads.

“Possession with intent to distribute marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of methamphetamine less than 28 grams, operatin’ a vehicle while intoxicated, possession of MDMA, possession of alcoholic beverages in a motor vehicle, operatin’ a vehicle with a suspended license, resistin’ an officer…” Willis flips the page. “Speedin’, reckless drivin’, disturbin’ the peace while in an intoxicated condition, possession with intent to distribute Xanax, theft—”

“What the hell did you steal?!” Aemond demands.

“Burritos. I forgot my wallet at home.” Now Aegon is indignant. “But I saidI’d get them back! They didn’t need to call anybody about it!”

“Aegon, Taco Bell does not offer payment plans!”

“I can release him to ya, I guess,” Willis tells Aemond in a slow drawl.

“I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry about him, I’m absolutely mortified, I’ll pay whatever fines you want—”

“Wait, no,” Aegon says, panicked. His hands are gripped around the iron bars. “I don’t want to leave.”

Aemond stares at him. “You’re asking to stay in jail…?”

“I can’t go home. Stephanie’s there.”

“Of course she’s there. You knew she was flying in for the wedding.”

“Please let me stay here until she goes back to Monaco.”

“Definitely not. How’s everything else?”

“There’s something wrong with one of the Lake Verret rigs. Viserys mentioned a…a…I don’t remember, a dirt dump or something.”

“A mud pump?!”

“Yeah! That’s it. That’s what he said. It exploded.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses, then remembers that Cadi’s still there. She gives him a sly grin. You messed up, she means. Aemond looks to you, apologetic, disappointed. “I’m going to have to drop you off and then head straight home. There are messes to be mopped up.”

“No,” Aegon moans as Willis unlocks the holding cell and then wrestles him out of it when Aegon resists. “No, I’m a felon! I’m a danger to the public!”

“Don’t,” Aemond snaps, and this time his brother listens.

You say goodbye to Cadi—she barely notices—but as you go to follow Aemond and Aegon out of the Sheriff’s Office, she has a question. “Aemond?”

He stops. “Yeah, Cadi?”

“Can I go to the wedding?”

“Weddin’?!” Willis exclaims. “Already?!”

“Not mine,” you say.

“You really want to go?” Aemond asks Cadi with some reticence. But he seems to be considering it.

“Well, yeah. Mom said she and Amir are going. You’ll be there. Lots of cake will be there. And I’ve never been to a wedding before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Aemond turns to you, then to Willis, searching for permission. “It’s alright with me,” Willis says. “As long as someone there is keepin’ an eye on her.”

“It’s your choice,” you tell Cadi. “If you’re interested, I have no objections. But you have to be nice to Christabel.”

“Christabel?!” Willis says.

“That’s Aemond’s fiancée.” And there is a collective uncomfortable silence: Willis nodding slowly as he squints at you, Cadi chewing on her thumbnail, Aemond looking down at his Adidas sneakers, Aegon staring vacuously at the Heather Locklear poster on the wall.

With Aegon squeezed into the back seat, Aemond drops you off at the home Cadi calls the Fall-Down House. The new house hasn’t closed yet, but probably will in the next week. The adolescent gator is sunbathing in the last of the daylight in one corner of the yard; you can hear the pink Panasonic boombox inside playing Another One Bites The Dust.

“Ho, you’re back!” Amir cries, jubilant. He hugs you energetically, staining you with the flour on his hands; he’s been watching the bakery while you’ve been gone and keeping every cent of the profits in recognition of his labor, as agreed upon. “How was London?”

You give him his souvenir: a purple t-shirt with Princess Diana’s face on it. “Rainy. Wonderful.”

“Did you have any kinky sex in the royal grandma’s bed?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “But it was…I don’t know how to describe it. Calm. Normal. Easy. Like we could live that way forever.”

“So you’ve decided to be his Camilla.”

“Some moments I have. Other times I haven’t. But more and more, I just…” You try to decide what you mean. “The thought of giving him up feels impossible. And Christabel…they’re so distant with each other, so disconnected, so platonic. Their relationship doesn’t feel real. Maybe I can ignore it. Maybe this is the best I can hope for.”

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “It might feel more real in three days.”

The rehearsal dinner is on Friday; the wedding is only 24 hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really should consider writing a cookbook, dear,” Alicent says from where she sits across from you. The dining room table is covered with flickering pink candles, bouquets of wildflowers, drinks garnished with cotton candy and Pop Rocks. Balloons bump against the ceilings, their long ribbons streaming down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stereo is thumping out Caught Up In You by 38 Special. Everything is pink and red: the colors of love. Yet just like at the engagement party, no one is talking about the couple getting married tomorrow. You could almost forget that there’s going to be a wedding. That makes it easier; and if denial is the terrain you live on now, so be it. That is far less agonizing than the alternative.

“Oh, no,” you demur, taking a sip of a cotton candy cocktail. You exchange a glance with Aemond, sitting several seats down from his mother. He is in a suit—black and white, fitted, faultless—and smiling, proud of you. “A book?! I couldn’t. Not in a million years.” I never even finished high school English.

“But all of my friends from home are captivated by your recipes, darling, and it would be so much easier if I could simply send them a copy of a cookbook rather than trying to describe every dish to them! Please consider it. Do you promise?”

“That I’ll think about it? Not too taxing a commitment. I suppose so.”

“Good,” Alicent chirps, then turns to whisper something to Criston, who drapes an arm briefly across her shoulders and gives her a reassuring little embrace. Amir is chatting with Aemond about San Franscisco. Christabel is talking to Helaena, who has been forced into a voluminous, magenta taffeta dress that she clearly despises; her chameleon Dreamfyre lurches around the table, occasionally stealing tastes of people’s food. Daeron, with Tessarion perched on the back of his chair, is trying to discuss something called seismic testing results with Viserys but getting ignored. Viserys is deep in conversation with Christabel’s father, the marquess, a large loud man whose booming voice drowns out everyone else. The two of them seem delighted, celebratory, very much in their own world. Their schemes have come at last to fruition. Christabel has several younger sisters in attendance—her bridesmaids—but no mother. You gather from pieces of dialogue you’ve overheard that her mother died when she was a child, a terrible and irreparable loss. Otto is so bored he’s flipping through a picture book about Kiribati. Aegon’s wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, is a headstrong, charismatic, and rather critical woman with short dark hair. She notifies Aegon each and every time he fails her, which happens frequently: You’re using the wrong fork. You missed a button on your shirt. You haven’t fucked me properly in over two years. You didn’t send flowers to my grandma’s funeral. This is evidently Aegon’s worst nightmare; he has disappeared upstairs in an effort to escape her.

Dinner is finished, and dessert has been brought by the servants. It turned out more like a crepe cake than a Napoleon cake—the layers of puff pastry didn’t want to fluff up as much as they should have—but no one seems to notice. This time, you and Amir knew the dress code expectations. You are both wearing black to fade into the backdrop like shadows, like distant memories. You are invited guests, but you are also locals, inferiors, recipients of charity.

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena says. “He has to try this cake, it’s delicious! The cherry jam cuts the heaviness of the cream and pastry dough and makes it a perfect dessert for summer! And the color is delightful! It looks just like blood!”

“Where the hell is he?” Viserys demands, looking around, twisting in his chair. “It’s his brother’s rehearsal dinner, for Christ’s sake. One night of this importance and he can’t handle it? I swear to God, if he’s snorting or smoking anything up there I’ll have him committed to an institution—”

“I’ll find him,” you offer as you stand from the table. You have to visit the bathroom anyway, too many glitzy pink cocktails; two birds, one stone. You depart from the table and Aemond’s gaze follows you, a low heat that is building towards incineration, a baiting promise of dark euphoria that you can no longer pretend you don’t want desperately, defenselessly. Christabel gives you a sweet little wave. She is dripping in gold—dress, heels, jewelry—and seems happier tonight, more self-assured. Perhaps with the wedding so close, her trepidation concerning Aemond’s commitment has evaporated. Surely it is too late to call off the ceremony now. Tonight they feast, tomorrow they recite their vows, and then…

But no, you don’t think about the honeymoon. You will not allow yourself to. It can’t exist to you, and that is how you’ll survive this. Christabel will be in one universe, you in another, two timelines that never cross like something out of Star Trek. And the way she and Aemond interact is so impersonal, so untactile, that it is not so difficult to treat anything beyond chaste pecks on cheeks as an impossibility.

At the top of the staircase, Vhagar is lurking. She wags her long twiglike tail when she sees you and licks the knuckles of your left hand. You give her a pat on the head—and then several more when she whines as you try to leave—then at last she lopes off down the hallway.

Aegon is exactly where you’d assumed he’d be. He’s in his bedroom hunched over his computer and hammering furiously at the keyboard. There’s white powder on his fingers and in his thin mustache. On the screen, bizarrely, is what appears to be neon green grass and an ox-drawn wagon like the ones from the pioneer days. Sunfyre the ferret is stretched out across the bed napping, his angular face resting on his paws.

Aegon whirls around to face you. He is wearing a lime green satin suit but has forgotten to put on a shirt under it. “What? What? What do you want? I’m playing Oregon Trail. I have dysentery.”

“You have what…? Never mind, it’s not important. You need to come downstairs and eat some dessert. People are wondering where you are.”

“I’m busy.”

“If you don’t make an appearance on your own, Viserys will come looking for you. Also there are some Cap’n Crunch treats I left on the kitchen counter that you might be interested in.”

“Consider me tempted. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“You better be,” you tell Aegon, then retrace your steps back to the kitchen. Amir and Christabel are both there getting cans of Pepsi from the fridge and making very cumbersome small talk…or perhaps only Amir thinks it is that much of a burden. Christabel is chattering blithely away about different types of wildflowers. He gives you a look like Oh thank God, an excuse to escape and wastes no time heading back to the dining room.

“Did you notice what’s playing now?” he asks you just before he vanishes, then points towards the stereo in the grand foyer. You listen; it’s Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. “You think they know this song is about class warfare?”

“You should tell them,” you joke.

“Yeah, if I want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.” Then Amir is gone.

“How are you doing?” you ask Christabel to be polite. You open the refrigerator and start hunting for your own can of Pepsi. “Excited? Nervous? You seem a little more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Are the wedding jitters finally dissipating?”

“They are,” she says, and when you glance back at her she is wearing a bashful sort of smile. It’s not an expression you can read. You resume digging through the refrigerator for a can of Pepsi; Amir and Christabel might have taken the last ones.

“That’s good,” you say noncommittally, hoping she’ll leave. But Christabel doesn’t leave. She seems to have something she needs to say. Just as you spy a lone can of Pepsi at the very back of the refrigerator and lean in to grab it, she proceeds to unburden herself.

“Well, you know, I was so concerned about me and Aemond before. I had no conviction that he especially liked me, and we never had anything to talk about, and he was so dreadfully undemonstrative…I was just beside myself, truly. I didn’t know what to do. But I feel much better about everything now. Norway was so good for us.”

Norway?

You close the refrigerator, your ice-cold Pepsi can clutched in your hand. You’re going cold all over. Slowly, you turn towards Christabel, glittering in her gold dress.

Norway???

“He took you on the North Sea trip.” You hear the words, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve said them. They sound flat and dazed.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” Christabel says; and again, her smile has no cruelty or sharp awareness in it, but her cheeks are pink. She’s blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about? “My father doesn’t know. He wouldn’t approve. But I just felt…I felt ready, you know? I’m sure you understand what I mean. You aren’t so clinical and aloof about everything. I had to know if Aemond and I really had something between us before we got married.”

“You felt…ready?” Ready for what? Ready for WHAT, Christabel?

“I asked Aemond to take me with him. I begged, actually.” She giggles. “I won’t try to be proud about it! And finally he said yes. We stayed at a lovely hotel in Bergen, and during the day he would have to fly by helicopter out to the rigs, but at night…”

You’re staring blankly at her. You can’t believe what you think she’s going to say. Surely it must be something else, anything else—

“It wasn’t my plan to ever be intimate with a man before marriage, but sometimes…things change. Minds change, circumstances change. And I knew I wanted it. And it went so well! Now what do I have to be nervous about? All the uncertainties are resolved. Now we just sign the paperwork and start our lives together.”

He took her to Norway.

He slept with her in Norway.

“I hope it was just as good for him,” Christabel muses, a compulsive sort of oversharing. But she has had a few cocktails and she thinks you’re nonjudgemental and there’s probably not a single other soul she feels she can be truthful with…so why not the girl who got knocked up at prom and had a baby at seventeen? Surely she’s in no position to judge. “It’ll be even better once we can…you know. When we’re officially trying for a baby and there’s no need to worry about any precautions. I want Aemond to enjoy himself as much as possible. I want to be a good wife to him.”

You feel dizzy; you feel violently ill. And now you see everything: Aemond kissing her with his mouth open and ravenous, his hands between her legs, his hips pressed to hers, peeling off her clothes and learning how to make her moan, make her wet, make her come, and you think of how careful he must have been with her, a girl with no past, no ex-husband, no childbirth that nearly killed her, no stretchmarks and no baggage, just a smooth pristine rivulet of flesh that was so pure and uncontaminated it was weightless, and you can hear—though you don’t want to, though it feels like it will kill you—how tender he was, how encouraging, not a dominant who drinks down fantasies like a vampire sustained by blood but just a man, and a man who has at last found a woman he doesn’t need to grab, bite, bruise, handcuff to a bedpost to feel satisfied with.

He took her to Norway and he never told me.

You are saying something, and Christabel is nodding appreciatively, accepting the sage wisdom of a tarnished life. Your words don’t matter. They are folktales and charms, the croaks of bullfrogs, the whispers of the wind through Spanish moss, the Morse code of ripples in the water of the bayou. You are a novelty and your counsel is a souvenir; one day when she is living in California or Argentina or Australia or Alaska or her ancestral castle back in the U.K., Christabel will tell Aemond’s children: Once I met a nice single mom from Napoleonville Louisiana, and she told me to follow my heart and not let anyone shame me for wanting to be close with my soon-to-be husband.

Vhagar trots into the kitchen and begins nudging her massive head against Christabel’s bare knees. “Hi, big girl!” Christabel coos as she pets the blue merle Great Dane, clearly accustomed to this. “Who’s a giant gorgeous girl? You are!”

What did I expect? I knew they were getting married. I knew they were going to sleep together.

Yes, you knew it, but you hadn’t felt it, and now you have.

I can’t do this, you realize. I thought I could but I can’t.

“Christabel?” Alicent is calling like a windchime. “Darling, there are just a few more things we have to discuss before tomorrow, will you come back to the table please?”

“On my way!” Christabel replies obediently, and she gives you a quick, impulsive hug before vanishing.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m going to drop dead right in the middle of this fucking kitchen.

Leaving your can of Pepsi forgotten on the countertop, you escape to the living room and then out the French doors into the garden. You run past the pool all the way to the pond full of multicolored fish you once hadn’t known were koi. You drop to your knees, then lie down on the cold cobblestones, and when it hits you again—Aemond touching her, Aemond loving her—you rupture into sobs that are breathless and shuddering. You try to stifle the noise with your palms; you clasp them over your mouth and smother your wails. It feels like you’re being ripped apart; it feels like you’re in labor, but there is no end, no consolation of a new life, no point at which your body chooses whether you live or die. It is only a razored wheel that turns in you again and again and again, shredding muscle and splitting bones.

There is a hand on your shoulder; someone is patting it awkwardly. You look up to see Aegon standing there. “Sorry,” he says. “You look…not good.”

“I’m really not good. I’m fucking terrible.” Your face is soaked and stinging with tears, your voice is strangled.

“Do you want some coke?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“From you? Yeah, for sure, getting impaled by a stop sign would be a great next move for me.”

“I’m totally fine to drive.”

“Can you just pull Amir aside without anyone else noticing and tell him to say his goodbyes and then meet me in the driveway, please? He drove me here. I need him to take me home.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, and then: “Thanks for the Cap’n Crunch Treats. Thanks for remembering something I like and caring enough to bring more. No one really does that around here.” And he’s gone before you can think of a reply.

To get to the driveway without going though the house, you climb over a 5-foot wrought iron fence swarmed with rosebushes and ivy, no easy feat in a black Kmart dress and matching ballet flats. You acquire a dozen shallow gashes on your hands and forearms, but make it to the Ford Escort just in time for Amir to meet you under the full, cloudless moon, tossing his car keys from one hand to the other.

“What did—?” Then he sees your face. He gasps, knowing how bad it is. He’s never seen you like this. He didn’t know it was possible for you to look like this. He unlocks the Ford Escort and joins you inside, turning the key in the ignition. “What the fuck did Aemond do to you?!”

“I have to go home. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t do this.”

Amir is spinning out of the driveway. “Did he hurt you, did he—?!”

“He fucked Christabel in Norway,” you say, sobbing uncontrollably. “And I know I have no right to be jealous, I know we don’t have a conventional relationship, I thought I could handle this but I can’t. I can’t stop picturing him with her, and hearing it, and I…I…I don’t understand why this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“Babe,” Amir says gently, a palm on your trembling thigh. “You’re in love with him. That’s why.”

“This is killing me,” you whisper. You’re shaking all over. You feel like you’re battling for every breath.

Your best friend—your only friend—is quiet for a long time. “Don’t go tomorrow,” Amir finally says. “You don’t need to see the wedding. You shouldn’t put yourself through that. I’ll go, I can handle the cake alone, especially if Cadi’s with me to help with carrying plates and stuff.”

You don’t say anything. You stare out the nightscape window and mop tears from your face with McDonald’s napkins you find in Amir’s glovebox.

“Did you hear me? I don’t think you should go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you agree hoarsely. “I can’t watch them have my wedding.”

“Willis is dropping Cadi off in the morning, right? I’ll pick her and the cake up from your house and bring her back when it’s over. You can tell her whatever you want…you have another cake order to work on, you’re sick, you’re injured, your mom needs a ride to the doctor, whatever.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“Hey, look at me.”

You do, sniffling, shivering, in agony.

“You don’t deserve this. You deserve better than this.”

I don’t think I do. I think if I did, it would have happened by now. But you know Amir will not accept this answer. “Okay,” you say again, trying to make yourself believe it.

In the gravel driveway of your sinking house, Amir asks if you want him to say. You tell him no, you want to be alone, you have to think, you have to plan. Really, you just don’t want anyone to see you this shattered. It’s humiliating, it’s like you’re an animal, like something less than human needing to licks its wounds in a dark place. You walk into the Fall-Down House and flip on the kitchen light, artificial yellow luminance. You don’t start the air conditioner. You don’t touch the Panasonic boombox. You stand there mindlessly in the sounds of the bayou: cicada screams, owl hoots, the far-away hissing of gators. The wedding cake is in the refrigerator, banana bread, cream cheese frosting, a kaleidoscope of wildflowers painted by Amir’s expert hand. He’s leaving. Aemond’s leaving. Everyone is leaving.

There are tires crunching on gravel in the driveway, there are footsteps on the sloping porch. He is able to yank the door open because you never lock it. He blows in like a storm that kills.

“What the hell happened?!” Aemond shouts. “Why did you leave?! You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me—”

“You took her to Norway.”

Aemond’s face goes from furious to lost. “Why would she tell you that?”

Not That’s not true, not Let me explain, not It didn’t mean anything. Your stomach sinks, a basket full of stones. “Because she thinks I’m her friend.”

“It wasn’t…” Aemond sighs. “It was a last-minute thing, and it was her idea. She really, really wanted to go to Norway, and I figured…you know…what’s the difference between the wedding night and a few weeks before it? So yeah, it happened—”

“Oh God,” you whisper, starting to sob again.

“And then I came home to your house, to your doorstep, because I missed you the entire time. The entire time, every hour, every minute, and there are no exceptions, okay, are you listening to me? I took her to Norway because I had to. I took you and Cadi to Clarence House because I wanted to. What I do with her is a reflex, an obligation, I’m on autopilot, I’m thinking of you to get myself hard, I don’t know how else to express to you how completely different these situation are in every single goddamn way.”

“She said it was good,” you say huskily, tears snaking down your cheeks that are raw from trying to dab them dry.

“Of course it was good for her!” Aemond flings back. “I’ve had a lot of casual sex, I know how to make women come, it’s a math equation, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates!”

“I know I have no claim to you, but I…” You gaze out the kitchen window, dark and still, nothing to see but stars and lighting bugs. “I can’t do this.”

Aemond asks, kindly now: “What do you want?”

I want to not have to beg you to choose me. “I want this to be over.”

“No,” he says, panicking. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to give this up as soon as it gets painful? I’m not worth fighting for, what I can do for you and Cadi isn’t worth a little pain? Because I’m no stranger to it either. You think I’m not hurting, you think nothing ever keeps me awake at night?”

“You could leave your prison any time you want to. But instead you built a brand new one around me.”

“You don’t understand what the kind of responsibility I’m beholden to feels like.”

“Yeah, a town named after Napoleon is the right place for you,” you seethe, enraged. “You’ve felt so fucking small your whole life that now you’re starving for what it tastes like to be in control. But I can’t let you destroy me. I can’t let my daughter grow up watching me settle for less than I need from a man. She’ll learn to live the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Aemond,” you say, and you wait until he looks at you. “Do you really want children?”

When he answers, his voice frayed and his right eye misty. “I love Cadi.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want children of your own with Christabel?”

“I have to,” he says, miserable.

“No,” you plead. “You cannot have a baby with that girl. You can’t, Aemond. You are going to ruin so many lives, not just your own.”

“I have to,” he says again.

“Then get out. Viserys owns you, and Viserys wouldn’t want you here. He would want you back at the mansion impregnating your child bride.”

“She’s a legal adult, she’s 19, and she wants me, she begs for me, I’m not twisting her arm—”

“Then go!” you roar, striking him hard, both palms to his chest. Aemond doesn’t budge. “Get out, go home, go have kids you won’t give a fuck about just like Viserys never cared about you. Go repeat the cycle all over again. I’m done. I can’t be a part of it.”

“I won’t be like him,” Aemond swears.

“You will be. You already are.” You shove him again, but still, Aemond doesn’t move. You know what he’s waiting for, you know the right word to say. But you can’t get it to launch from your lips; it catches in your throat like a blade through the windpipe. “Get out!”

Your fingers hook into the lapels of his black suit jacket and stay there; you can’t let go. You’re both breathing heavily; you can hear it, you can feel the heat in the air. You keep his jacket gripped in your hands, he can move no closer, no farther away. When he leans into you, you breathe in his smoke and cologne; when his hands cradle your face, you feel the benevolent power that once gave you peace.

I want him. I need him. Not forever, no, I understand that’s not possible. But just for right now.

You look up at him and Aemond kisses you, his lips and tongue claiming you like untouched land; he puts down roots, he slits the jugulars of trespassers.

Here. Now.

You drag him down with you. When you drop to the floor, you strike the back of your skull against the scuffed, sloping wood and bite back a yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond says, though it isn’t his fault; he reaches for your head and cushions it with his right hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You’re tearing open his white shirt; tiny translucent buttons go flying in every direction. Your palms glide over his chest, up to his throat, to his jaw, to knot in his hair. He reaches beneath your dress to slide off your panties, then buries his fingers between your legs. You moan helplessly, needfully, spreading your thighs wider for him. No man has ever been able to do this to you before: to make you forget everything, to make you feel—if only for a moment—beloved, worthy, chosen. He’s kissing you like he knows this is the last time. You’re touching the left side of his face and he doesn’t even notice, he won’t realize until later that there was a time when he was cured.

Aemond pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants, flips it open, and roots through it until he finds a condom. He starts to rip it open, moving with desperate speed, dire impatience.

“No, don’t,” you say. “Please don’t. I want all of you.” And I won’t get another chance.

He exhales in deep, ecstatic relief; he wants it too. You’re soaked, you’re ready, you’re aching for him like mending bones. He eases himself into you, gasping, and you are stunned by how good it feels already, how close you are, every rope of nerves and muscle glimmering with an opening heat that builds higher and higher, the reverse of a tornado finally touching down on earth. His hands are linked with yours and pinned to the floor above your head; he’s kissing you, he’s moaning into you, he thrusts deeper and harder when you beg him to do it.

Aemond untangles one hand from yours and reaches low to stroke you. Your fingers find his again and catch him, capture him, bring his hand back to the floor where it can be entwined with yours and his weight can hold it to the scraped wood. “I don’t need it, I’m close. Stay here. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” he whispers, panting; and the friction of his body against yours overtakes you, and when you come it is blinding, bone-breaking, a whirlpool that traps you for what feels like over a minute, soaring highs punctuated by the illusion of fading over and over again until you think you can’t stand it, and only then does it end, Aemond collapsing on the floor beside you covered in your sweat and your wetness, you feeling the remnants of him bleeding down your bare thighs.

You drag yourself upright—muscles sore in your belly and back and thighs—and roll onto your knees so you can stagger to your feet. You tug on your panties so he doesn’t drip out of you onto the floor. Then you straighten the skirt of your black dress, turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox—it’s a U2 song, Where The Streets Have No Name—and begin washing a muffin tin that was left in the sink.

Aemond stands up and runs a hand through his hair, getting his bearings. He looks down at his pants and fixes his zipper and belt. He tries to close his shirt and then remembers you tore off the buttons. They lie scattered across the floor, useless.

As you scrub the muffin tin, you hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you. His palms begin at the small of your back and then skate around your waist to encircle you.

“Stop,” you tell him; and immediately his hands fall away. Aemond waits for you to say more, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him.

He walks to where the kitchen becomes the living room—you can tell by the creaks in the floor—and again, he waits. After a while he says: “I’ll call you when the new house is ready.”

“No. Have Criston handle it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

“You get that I’m in love with you, right?” Aemond forces out, and when at last you turn to him there is the metallic glistening of tears on his right cheek. “I never feel this way about anyone. I don’t know how to handle it, I didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s true.”

“It’s not enough,” you say simply, and resume scrubbing the muffin tin.

He waits in silence, thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. Then the door opens and shuts—like the jaws of a beast—and he’s gone.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond

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coupleoffanfics · 1 year

Note

Hey, it’s almost 1am and I’m riding the angst train I wanted to ask ur opinion on something.

How would the fam react to Y/n getting grievously I hired or dying by the hands of a villain or by Jeremiah and getting caught in the crossfire???

❤️❤️❤️

I'm so glad that people like reading my stuff. It's more self-indulgent, but what fanfic isn't self-indulgent?

Anyway, I'm so excited by seeing this ask because it sounds fun to write about. Let's start with the "less" angsty one. y/n getting gravely injured (I'm assuming that's a typo) by a villain.

TW: Mention of suicidal ideation once and gore.

Getting Gravely Injured by a Villain

It'd depend on the Villain. The family is going to act accordingly in their personas. Their punches are probably hitting harder than usual.

Jason might shoot the villain in the head, but ultimately can't. He's in Gotham following the Bat's rules slightly. So he'll just shoot their knee.

y/n isn't Batgirl anymore. So that means the villain must know the publicity they'll get by attacking, kidnapping, or holding a minor celebrity would give them. The fact that it's Bruce Wayne's daughter who's painted out to be a saint by the media would spread like wildfire. They'd have to be doing it to get attention or money.

How severely y/n was harmed doesn't matter too much. Bruised, broken bones, stabbed, etc are going to make the family more protective. Trying to persuade y/n into coming back to the manor, so that they can keep her close and prevent this from happening again.

Now the Valeska twins will differ in how y/n gets hurt and their reaction.

Jerome is like a child on a sugar high when with y/n. Wouldn't deliberately harm her in any way. Kidnaps y/n and go on a joy ride around the city even though she has no choice and isn't finding any joy from this. She'll probably get a scrape on her legs or arms from falling because Jerome is running too fast while he is holding her arm. Maybe have a bruised arm or wrist because of how tightly he holds her.

He doesn't think too much about things and will get into dangerous situations. Pick a fight or mock the wrong person leading to a shootout. He's having too much fun to care about anyone until y/n is hit.

One of the family members finally caught up to Jerome and was ready to— oh, my God y/n is bleeding from her side! Oh, fuck! AHHH! Jerome knows he can leave y/n in the hands of whatever bat family member showed up. She'll be in good hands while he hunts down the one who shot her.

"I know you're one of the 'good guys', but take care of her. If I hear that you did something that upsets her I'll— actually, I'll keep that a surprise." He looks at y/n who is just bleeding on the floor and in pain with a big ol’ smile. "I'll make sure to give you the head of that fucker who got you. Until then see ya later, toots!"

After that y/n is forced to stay in the manor. They made a deal that it would just be a few weeks, but her stay is indefinite.

Bruce

Opens the door one day to find a large box. It wasn't a delivery because it has no shipping information on it. Just an envelope with y/n's name on top of it. Bruce opens the envelope first and reads the letter which has poor handwriting.

Hey, doll!

Hope you're resting up and not in too much pain. I didn't think picking on a mob boss would get so messy. They just couldn't take a joke. I'll pick a more private place for our next date cuz I know how shy you are. Hope seeing them brightens your day. Made sure to get rid of the eyes since I know how you don't like too many eyes on you. Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone who was there.

Love Jerome.

Bruce doesn't need a minute to take things in. He already knows what's in the box and sends it to the authorities. Does not mention a word of this to y/n. She is already going through a lot and best to not tell her.

He does increase the security around the manor. He ends up putting a tracker on y/n because knowing where she is the only way to keep him from worrying.

This further solidifies that she needs to be in their protection to keep this mentally disturbed boy away. The whole thing is twisted but the line "a more private place" bothers him the most. He's not letting his daughter be alone with Jerome longer than she already has.

Dick

It's early in the morning and Dick wanted to check up on how y/n doing. As he walks up to the manor there's a large box sitting in front of the door. A letter sits on top of it with y/n's name on it. Rips up the envelope and begins reading the letter.

Once Dick was done reading, he looked down at the box. Noticing dried blood around the box. This makes him nauseous and immediately goes to Bruce to inform him. They sent it to authorities so they could identify the heads in the box.

He doesn’t tell y/n or the others about this. Everyone is already in a frenzy from the events prior, so it seemed best to keep this between him, Bruce, and Alfred.

"Made sure to get rid of their eyes," Dick isn't sure why that sticks with him. Maybe it's because he wonders if Jerome beheaded them or took out their eyes first. It doesn't matter though because he needs to keep his little sister safe.

Barbara

Doesn't even want to go near it, checks that there isn't a bomb in there waiting to explode. She takes one peek in the box and immediately looks away. Does not read the letter because what was in the box said what needed to be said. Informs the whole family and that sets the mood for the day.

She checks up on y/n after telling everyone. The poor girl is so overwhelmed by everything that she doesn't want to be around anyone. Spends most of the day with y/n, trying to cheer her up. Get sweets since that's y/n weakness and sugar releases dopamine. She has Alfred cook y/n's comfort food.

The day is meant to help release all of the stress. Barb wasn't sure if it was working until y/n said thank you before going to bed. Barb makes a promise to herself that she'll become better at shielding y/n from this type of depravity.

Jason

Can tell who this is from just by the envelope. y/n's name with little hearts around it. Shoves it into his pocket, he'll give it to y/n when he sees her. Opens the box to be hit with a familiar disgusting odor. Looking inside there are 3 heads. Recognizes one of them being a mod boss he has on his list for a while now.

Jason wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. He pulls out the envelope and tears it open to get some sort of context. Reading the letter left him unsettled and a little…satisfied? Grateful maybe? For taking care of those who harmed y/n even though it was entirely Jerome's fault that this happened in the first place.

Closes the box and informs the whole family of what he found. Everyone is put more on edge. y/n isn't allowed out of the manor for a few days. y/n is upset by the news and she’s more quiet the following days.

Jason almost wants to laugh at, "They just couldn't take a joke." Bets that these" jokes" were just thinly veiled threats and pointing a gun at them. He probably would have snickered if this didn't involve y/n.

Tim

All he wanted to do was check the mail. Now he's reading a sort of love letter written by a psycho and looking down at the heads that could not look back at him. Their empty eye sockets had- ugh, God there was so much blood.

Debates on whether he should tell y/n about this, but ends up telling her. There was no point in hiding it because she'll probably find out one way or another. Sees the guilt and horror flash across her face. Wants to comfort her as much as he can, but all she does is detract from him. Of course, when Barb opens her arms y/n jumps into them. What happened to them always being there for each?

Doesn't like, "our next date", one bit. He doesn't like the insinuation or the thought of it. He starts keeping his eyes peeled for Jerome and ears open if anyone has information on where he is or going. The sooner he's in Arkham the safer y/n is from him and going on that next date.

Damian

Not impressed. The delivery was lazy and the writing was so sloppy that he almost couldn't read it. The heads must have been cut with a butter knife with how unclean and jagged the cut is. Every unprofessional. Nonchalantly brings this up at the table during breakfast. Not even when everyone is finished, just right in the middle of it.

Never really had respect for a villain or any, but the whole "Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone" was almost respectable. Damian having a speck of respect doesn't mean he likes Jerome. Still thinks he's stupid and annoying.

He'd give him a 3/10 for the delivery and would not order again.

Per-Spray Jeremiah isn't going to do anything, but Post-Spray Jeremiah is a different story. Will break one of y/n's arms or legs just so that she can't get away from him too easily. Though that's going to the extreme, he's more likely to guilt trip her. Getting into her head isn't hard and more effective.

"I thought you loved me. You were the one who always said you loved me. y/n, who has been here for you the most and always will? Not your best friend, Norah, she's leaving you behind and you know it. Not your family because they never cared about you in the first place. No one will love you like I do. You need me, y/n."

By the time the family saves y/n and brings her back to the cave for medical attention. She's consumed by guilt and almost believes she deserved any harm done to her. Will cry to Barb about this and only Barb.

Concerned by this revelation Barb will tell the whole family. Bruce is worried as it's clear that y/n's mental state is worsening. He knew that it would be after bad being kidnapped by Jeremiah, he just didn't think it would be this bad. Bruce and Tim have the same idea to get y/n another therapist if she's still not seeing one.

Jason and Damian are mad that y/n would think that she deserves any pain. Jason is kinda, sort of, not really more understanding about the whole thing than Damian. He gets how she could feel that she failed Jeremiah. If she has revealed that they had been dating and she can't or won’t give up on him, everyone is conflicted and concerned.

Dick has had the most romantic relationships and will try to convince y/n that Jeremiah is a lost cause now. Leading her to a spiral into a depressive episode. Oops!

If y/n is on the verge of death the family freaking the fuck out. Slowly recovers at the manor and convinces her that staying with them is the best thing for her. Depending on if her injury is life-threatening or not will determine how cooperative she is.

Getting Killed by a Villain

Doesn't matter who it is Jason is shooting them on the spot. Though with how emotional and choked up he's getting, he'll probably miss. Damian would react the same way if his whole body didn't stop upon seeing y/n's lifeless eyes. He doesn't want to step near her to see if it was true that he lost his sister.

Bruce, Dick, and Tim will force themselves to act professionally. They're still in their hero personas and killing was a strict no. If the whole family is there then whoever killed y/n is getting a beating of their life.

It could also depend on who's at the scene. Bruce and Dick hold on to the moral code that killing is wrong. This will prevent any further killings from happening.

Damian and Jason would probably end up killing the villain after seeing y/n's corpse. They know it's not going to bring back y/n, but what else can they do except making the villain to pay their debt?

Tim teeters between the lines. If Bruce or Dick is there then he's on their side of not killing. If it's just Damian and/or Jason then he won't stop them. He won't participate just stands back to let them do their thing.

Depending how and when she died will weigh heavily on their mind. Quick and painless before they got there? At least she didn't have to suffer too much, but still keeps them up at night.

Tortured for hours before succumbing to her injuries? They already feel guilty that they couldn't save her on time, but her last hours of living was being in pain will only intensify it. Out of the whole family, Jason would probably be the most distraught by this. He reopens old wounds and memories. y/n meeting a similar end is horrifying to him.

Get there on time, but it’s too late to save her from her injuries. Then slowly dies in their arms. If they're all there then y/n is dying in Bruce's arms.

"Please tell Jeremiah, I'm sorry and- and that I love him. Tell Norah that I hope s-she achieves her dreams of becoming a doctor. Are- are you still there? I can't see or feel you." She can slightly hear Bruce's deep voice while what seems to be the others are screaming. It's getting harder to hear and her body is starting to feel heavier.

This is the end and everyone knows it. Jason, Tim, and Dick don't want to accept it and are trying to patch her wound(s). Trying to get help there as soon as possible. Bruce and Damian are quiet trying to listen to her soft voice get quieter.

y/n starts slightly laughing, it's a nervous tick. "I always fantasize about having enough courage to end it all. Bu-but I- fuck. I'm such a fuck up." She starts crying and any words of comfort are either not heard or ignored. Starts coughing blood, but that doesn't deter Bruce in the slightest. Damian squeezes her hand though he doubts she can feel it.

"I don't even feel the pain anymore…At least I…At least I'm not dying alone." It isn't long before she stops breathing.

Alternatively, I thought of y/n saying, "I wished I was surrounded by loved ones." But she wouldn't stay that no matter how angry she is at the family. Might think it though.

In both cases of the Valeska twins, y/n would be caught in the crossfire. Jerome isn't going to kill y/n because she's his one and only. Jeremiah isn't going to kill y/n because why would he kill his wife? He's already planned out most of their whole lives and she already signed the mentally fabricated marriage certificate.

Jerome gets into a frenzy seeing y/n drop dead. No one is spared from his wrath. He can't bring himself to look at her body and will just leave. Inactive for a short time before getting back into the swing of things.

She is buried next to Jason. The family will catch Jerome hanging around her grave "talking to her" or something. Who knows what the hell he's doing. They'll have to chase him off or turn on the sprinklers if they want him to leave.

He didn't kill her himself, but he's still responsible for the events leading up to it. Meaning the family isn't going to pull back any punches.

Post-Spray Jeremiah has a similar reaction to y/n's death. Honestly, y/n could have died by just jumping in front of him to take a bullet. Doesn't matter how much y/n should hate him, she can't bring herself to. Ultimately it doesn't matter how she died, Jeremiah will blame Batman or the others for their inability to save y/n. Deflecting any responsibility.

This reinforces that he has to destroy Gotham and make it into his perfect image. y/n always talked about wanting to make the world a better place and that's exactly what he's doing.

If she dies in his arms he'll make a quick escape with her body. Having Echo hold back everyone to buy him time. Buries y/n in an undisclosed location and the tombstone will stay y/n Valeska instead of l/n or Wayne.

If he knew of the family's identity, he'd make subtle jabs at them. Mocking them for their mishandling of y/n. When or if he takes over Gotham he'll make sure that they all have front-row seats of the destruction before killing them off.

If he's feeling ruthless he might just have one of his followers get plastic surgery to look like y/n. Even change the pitch of their voice to get close enough to y/n's. Then send the follower after them and make various claims about how they lied about caring about her. How they let her die on purpose. That she'll never forgive them.

Traumatizing the whole family. Will make his follower's death gruesome just fuck with them and have them relive that day.

Bruce regrets not having kept y/n closer. He has a lot of 'should haves’ and 'if only’ in his head. He knows that's not going to do anything, but it'll take a while to accept her death. Always visits her grave every week.

Dick wishes that he'd been a better brother to y/n. He'll often wonder if she's looking down at them from above. Any mention of her will upset him for a while. Tim feels the same as Dick but often finds himself reminiscing about those happy moments. When they're smiling and laughing, once the memory is over he's left feeling melancholy.

Barbara is heartbroken by this. y/n always talked about how she wanted a normal domestic lifestyle. How much she loves Jeremiah and believes that he's the one. Now she's in the dirt and never experienced that simple quiet life she wanted. Carries a photo of y/n and her smiling on her all the time. Believes that y/n is in a better place where she can live out her dreams. One day Barb will see her again and give her a bone-crushing hug.

Jason and Damian think of throwing her body into Lazarus Pit if they have access to her body. Jason seriously thinks of it for only a minute before throwing it out. The pit messed him up and he can't handle bringing y/n back only for her mental turmoil to worsen. Damian doesn't think about that. He wants to apologize for all he's said and done. He wants his sister back, but the family is quick to turn down the idea. Explaining how it could only lead to more pain.

Damian would most likely listen to the family since they're technically right. Although there is a small chance that he wouldn't listen and do it anyway. Right out of the pit, y/n's thinking of her only love. Tries to run back to Jeremiah, but Damian is not having any of that.

When he returns to the manor with y/n tied up the whole family will have a verbal MMA fight. After that, they lock y/n in a nicely furnished room with hidden security cameras. y/n is like a zombie. Only has one thing, rather one person on her mind. She's a shell of who she once was.

At least they have a second chance, right?

y/n can not go ten minutes without talking or asking about Jeremiah. Will speak with herself if there isn't anyone else with her.

I think this turned out horrible, but hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to ask anything else as my inbox in always open. Also sorry for misspells or grammar mistakes, kinda rushed this.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader #richard grayson x reader #dick grayson x batsis #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x batsis #barbara gordon x reader #jerome valeska x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x batsis reader #gotham x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska x reader

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whosthere54 · 1 month

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Do you think about how silly (messed up) it would be if Draeke was able to watch over Castrel and Ash?

He would have to watch two of the people he was closest with (maybe not at the end, but he names his child after Ash. That counts for something I think.) playing cat and mouse for the years after his death, trapped in similar cycles of grief and pain.

Would he be angry? Would he be sad? Would he be vengeful? (Though I doubt he would)

Do you think Draeke watches his sibling as they mourn him? As she holds on to so much grief and fear and so so so much regret. Watching as Ash tries goes to scrub the blood off of their hands- repeating the same motions after nightmares or certain days when it rains (though those times the blood isn’t there- they see it. They sees it every day after it happened. He can’t *stop seeing it*.)

Do you think Draeke watches his husband -the person he spent so much of his time with. The kind, loving, important, wonderful person he fell in love with- chase and chase (and *hunt* and *track*) and chase Ash down, overwhelmed with grief and so *so* much anger. But in the process watching him leave the child he is hunting Ashril down to protect in a way? (It feels so much to me like a dad who’s off at work all the time. Maybe one who travels for work, who’s not home often so you give him things to take with him so you know he thinks of you. That’s what the letter feels like in my bones.)

Yeah no me neither.

#I’m having thoughts chat did you know #me when?#sky bound smp #skybound #skyboundsmp #bound smp #boundsmp #bound ashril #ash bound smp #boundsmp ashril #ashril #Castrel #bound smp Castrel #Castrel bound smp #draeke bound smp

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radioisntdead · 22 days

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Hi I was wondering if you could do the vees seperate minus valentino falling for a person they had a one-night stand with. If you want maybe they couldn't find them for a long time only to find out they've been at the hotel?

Good evening my dear! Indeed I can!

TV faced prince and respectless social media princess try to find their Cinderella headcanons

Flat faced TV prince

Any sinner would've been lucky to got Vox where you did, unclothed and blue screening.

Any sinner would've begged to see him again but you? YOU HAD THE FUCKING NERVE TO GHOST HIM??

But seriously you had managed to not only get in this guy's sheets but leave him yearning for you? For your touch? For your voice? His heart aching to see you again?

He woke up fully expecting you to be there beside him, looking gorgeous and hopefully shirtless but NO, you weren't there! Maybe you were making coffee? Playing with Vark?

He looked around for you everywhere and you weren't there!

Maybe you had gone to work? He swore he rescheduled for you to have the day off, right?

Bro walks into his office only to see a letter of resignation.

You quit and fuckin' vanished after fuckin' him

How dare you, like have the decency to at least text him so he can find you?? You don't have to ask for another one night stand [two night stand??]

Just text him!! Wait do you even have his number? Does he have yours? Wait he does! Why didn't he think of it sooner? FUCK ITS NO LONGER IN SERVICE

You left him trying to find you for months! Months! He looked through countless security cameras, tried to find out where you lived, where you frequented,

Turns out you moved out three days before fucking him.

Turns out the places you frequented didn't have cameras. Just his luck

He was NOT going this far for some dumbass sinner who absolutely rocked his world one night.

He was not better then this!

So why was he obsessing over you? Absolutely fantasizing about the night you spent together, dreaming about it. Ruining several pairs of pants

Eventually he finally found you! Fighting for that stupid hotel on extermination day!

F U C K

Honestly sleeping with a Vee, not just any Vee but Vox, the CEO of vox tech only to move to the one place he has trouble getting to because of a certain deer? Power move.

Speaking of said deer did the two of you have anything? Obviously no right??? RIGHT???

Well after he blows a fuse he puts his big boy TV pants on, wears his best bowtie [probably hoping you'd be the one to take it off]

And heads to the hotel with a bouquet of flowers fully prepared to woo you into abandoning the chance of redemption, a chance to go pass the pearly gates in order to... Fuck the tv again???

Personally I wouldn't but you could if you want!

Respectless social media princess

Be her, go to an event, find someone you just instantly CLICK with, so much that you book a hotel room for the two of you and do the unholy dance of intercourse, you don't exchange numbers or socials just first names, you go to sleep after they clean you up and treat you like the princess you are fully expecting them to be there when you wake up,

ONLY FOR THEM TO BE GONE, leaving nothing but the scent of their perfume/cologne

Yeah you wouldn't be too happy about that would you??

Honestly she wasn't going to care, sure go AHEAD and leave her, whatever your loss.

So turns out she DID care, because she found herself thinking of mysterious you! You treated her so, so sweetly, so nice. You made her respectless heart beat.

And so she spent months trying to hunt down and find your social media, honestly it was impressive you managed to invade her for so long.

She'd ask Vox for assistance but how can you ask if you don't have so much as a picture of the person you're looking for??

Honestly she was tempted to give up but wouldn't you know an ad came up for that stupid haz-what hotel and who was there? Looking just as amazing as the day she met and bedded you?

You!

Girl has never image searched and found someone's social medias so fast.

She stalks your social medias reading every sinstagram caption, watching every Vox-tok you made with your little hotel friends,

You weren't seeing any of them were you?? Because she'd be damned again if she was going to be someones sidepiece.

After stalking you for a good couple of hours she shoots you a message.

You'd better respond!

Good evenin' folks! I do hope you enjoyed these! I'm hungry rn and I'm supposed to be asleep, literally both parents told me to go to sleep early tonight and it's 3 am, I'm gonna go knock myself out now with mildly concerning ASMR thank you for tunin' on in and I hope you all have a wonderful night!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette x reader

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endrinstone · 4 months

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Since it looks like ivory's streams are gone now, I compiled a list of all of her Showtime SMP streams, so that there's at least some record of their existence. I provided links (in blue) to alternative povs of the events, if any exist for the given day, and included brief descriptions of what happened. In parentheses are the titles and links of the now deleted streams. Enjoy!

All dates are in 2023.

9. 6. ivory's video. Gets gear, and a horse named Lewidor. Not in character. The video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator is a summary of the first few days, with kinda a more self-aware, comedic take on it. (Title: its showtime.)

10. 6. Zolister. Announces her Watchkeeper reign, then talks about morals with Vi and chat. (Title: ivory makes an announcement)

12. 6. ivory's video. Hunts down her first person, Rylan. The video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player sums it up very well. (Title: showtime smp)

13.6. None. Makes a grave for her horse Lewidor with Vi. Vi then shows her his therapy office. (Title: lewidor's funeral)

22. 6. Vi. Gets introduced to kantje and Effy. Kills Cupid, then Mugm in an arena duel, then Rylan. Then hangs out with Vi. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

25. 6. None. Builds a drowned farm (with Vi and Loppezz, if I remember correctly), and kills Tidus in a very drawn out battle. (Title: happy tuesday.)

28. 6. Nebula. Killing Strobe, which she felt really bad for. (Title: i love murder.)

2. 7. Nebula. Killing Nebula. (Title: i am normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

4. 7. Zolister and Vi. Gets hunted down by a group of people. The bit where she gets hunted is gone now though. (Title: frog)

5. 7. None. Family roadtrip with Vi, Zolister and Rasplin. Ends with Vi trying (and succeeding) to prevent the other three from killing each other. (Title: SNOG)

9. 7. kantje. Casino opening day, she threatens the owners after they put her kill list up for auction. (Title: shoe time)

16. 7. Vi and Zolister and kantje. The petition against ivory's regime. She refuses to step down, and gets killed repeatedly. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP SUNDAY and the n NIERAUTOMAA)

17. 7. None. VN43 makes a deal with her: he will provide her with resources, and in exchange she will give him some power if she wins the election. Both are very willing to betray each other. (Title: nothing - showtime smp AND THEN OMORI)

21. 7. Vi. Talks with Vi, looks for a location for a new base, briefly talks with Win, Trashy, and Divy. (Title: showtime smp - WAHOO)

23. 7. None. Looking for a potential base location and grinding. She (half by accident, half on purpose) finds someone’s secret base. Not in character. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

26. 7. None. Just grinding for resources. Not in character. (Title: showtime smp CHILLING. NO MURDER.)

6. 8. Zolister. Gets told about The Silencers by kantje, kills Zolister, tears down her house. She starts "glitching out", reminiscent of the I Killed God video. Alluded/talked to Ebony (clarification). (Title: showtime smp sunday)

7. 8. None. Renovating an ancient city, getting rid of the shriekers. Not in character. (Title: im going to kil)

9. 8. None. Hangs out with CherryNyx, who asks her questions about humanity. Then works on her base. (Title: im)

13. 8. None. Building an iron farm in her base. Not in character. (Title: gorgle)

18. 8. Vi. The election. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP ELECTION)

Bonus: ivory didn’t stream these, but they are relevant. If you have more of these, let me know.

23. 6. Vi: Vi and ivory hang out, and discuss ivory's mental state.

20. 8. Win/Boba/ Vi: ivory’s goodbye letter.

28. 10. Vi: (Unborn Solipsism) has a scene where ivory tells Vi goodbye.

Bonus two: these ivory streams were not actually on Showtime, but were related. Not super useful information, but here you go.

30. 6. gug. Analysing her video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator.

13. 7. WEEE. Analysing her video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player.

18. 7. showtime smp reading stream (then drawing). Reading Showtime SMP fanfics.

31. 7. showtime smp base planning. In a creative world, planning out the design of her ancient city base.

#thank you vod archivists. the spreadsheet was very helpful #lmk if you have any additions or questions #unfortunately most of her quiet introspective moments are not in others' povs #ivorycello #showtime smp #endrin’s posts #ivory

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thedeathlysallows · 9 months

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Is It Over Now? (3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon; Aegon Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon

Summary: Was it over when she laid down on your couch? Was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Spicy content ahead but no smut

Here's the masterlist containing the other drabbles in the series!

I didn't write the full smut scene because I was worried it would be less of a drabble and more of a full chapter. If y'all want the full smut scene let me know!

You aren't how Aemond remembers you at all when he runs into you after your arrival. He's in the courtyard, practicing his swordsmanship with Ser Criston and who should walk up but your bastard brothers. They're accompanied by their father, you trailing behind the three men listlessly... bored even. You're eyes flicker about, taking in the sights of the castle you'd hoped to never see again. There's no joy in your gaze. Not anymore. Aemond isn't sure if he should be worried.

When you finally spare a glance at him he's struck by just how different you look. No longer a gangly, awkward princess, you stand in front of him with the body of a woman. All soft curves and delicate Valeryian features. His eyes linger on your hips and tits, and he decides those might be your best features if it weren't for the gentle slope of your lips as you say his name.

Aemond drops his sword immediately, the taunts of his nephews forgotten the second he hears your voice. He lifts your hand to his mouth as he bows, grazing his lips over your knuckles.

"Princess," Aemond says in greeting.

You pull your hand back, fisting it in the silk of your red dress. "Aemond. Have you seen your brother lately? I've been searching for him."

Why? he wants to demand. Why do you want that drunkard when I'm right here? He's probably off picking up some disease on the Street of Silk as we speak.

Instead, he says, "I'm afraid not, Princess."

"Hmm, pity." You look him up and down. "I'll be off then. Lovely to see you, Uncle. Boys," you give Jace and Luke a pointed glare. "Be good."

Aemond wants to stop you, wants to make you turn around and stay by his side, but he can't find the words. Instead, he takes his frustration out on your brothers by way of sparring before taking his own leave and hunting down the serving girl who has been your stand in for months now.

You, on the other hand, search the Red Keep for Aegon. You've already seen and spent time with Helaena, fawning over her and her children even if the reunion was a bit stiff and awkward. You like Helaena, love her even. She's by far the sweetest person you've ever met. How she's lasted in a marriage to Aegon, you'll never know.

He wrote you letters while you were at Dragonstone. As did Aemond. You answered Aegon more often, though. Maybe it was out of some strange, misplaced sense of loyalty that you did so. Aegon was supposed to be your husband after all. Even with his many, many, many... personality defects... you still feel closest to him after all these years.

"Oh, excuse me!" You stop a young serving girl who is in the middle of leaving what you remember to be Aemond's chambers. She's a pretty blonde with a kind smile. "Have you seen Prince Aegon?"

She shakes her head. "No, your highness, I'm sorry. I... I thought I saw the Queen going in his chambers earlier."

You nod. "Thank you..."

"Emma, your highness." She curtsies and looks to the ground.

"Emma. Thank you." You walk further down the hall, counting doors until you come to what you know to be Aegon's chambers.

The décor around the Red Keep has changed immensely since you've been gone. Many of the more obscene tapestries that imprinted themselves in your young mind are gone, replaced with religious imagery of the Seven. You can only imagine the fit Daemon is throwing over the change. Honestly, you don't really feel one way or another about it as long as it was your grandfather's decision, but a large part of you knows it was likely Alicent's doing.

Speaking of, the Queen exits Aegon's chambers right as you're about to announce yourself. She gives you no more than a tight lipped smile, exhaustion and disappointment dimming her eyes.

You cautiously make your way inside. "What was that about?"

Aegon sits on his bed with his head in his hands, a simple white sheet covering his lap. He perks up when he hears your voice and you can't help but return his boyish grin. "Nothing. Something about some serving girl I don't even remember."

"I don't believe you."

"Good. You shouldn't. I'm a bad, bad man."

You pour yourself some wine from the pitcher on his bedside table. "Self deprecation doesn't suit you."

"Who said it was self deprecation? I hurt everyone around me." Aegon sighs and leans back in bed, patting the empty spot beside him.

You know better than to get in Aegon's bed, but he just looks so pathetic. And maybe that's why you favor him so much. You have a soft spot for sad, broken, pathetic things. Aegon knows this. Just as you know he plays on your feelings. What you can't figure out is why you allow it. If anyone else were to treat you the way Aegon does you would feed them to Vermithor... and yet your uncle is allowed to do as he pleases with your heart.

"Remember the game we would play when we were betrothed?" Aegon bunches your skirt in his fist, dragging it up your thigh slowly. The silk tickles against your bare skin.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes."

"Care to play again, niece?"

Aegon is allowed to do as he pleases with your heart just as he is allowed to do as he pleases with your body.

"Yes." The word comes out in an almost whimper and Aegon's smile turns predatory.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my prince."

Aegon pushes the blanket from his lap and pulls you down on top of him. There's the sound of your dress ripping and Aegon's moan of pleasure.

"Good girl," he whispers in your ear. "You've always been my good girl."

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you

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secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

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Emma to Cristina

Dear Cristina,

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I realize the message I just sent you probably didn’t make a lick of sense, so after you’ve read it, toss it and read this. I was in kind of a hysterical state when I wrote it — I’ve been wanting to tell you all about what was going on with Mina being kidnapped for days, but I couldn’t. Then, when I could, it all just kind of poured out. Again, sorry!

It was awful not being able to say anything to you about what was happening. I’ve always hated politics, as you know—but however unusual your (and Mark’s) position, the Seelie Court would certainly consider you part of Kieran’s retinue, and we were expressly forbidden from contacting either Court about the fact that Mina was kidnapped right out of her bedroom here at Blackthorn Hall. And we obeyed to the letter.

So, it turned out the person who’d spearheaded the kidnapping was Mother Hawthorn, the nursemaid to the First Heir, who chose to marry a Shadowhunter. She’s had a complicated relationship with Shadowhunters, especially Herondales (who DOESN’T have a complicated relationship with Herondales, I ask you) ever since — and now she was demanding to see Kit if we ever wanted to get Mina back.

Nobody wanted Kit to do it, even though everyone was desperately afraid for Mina. But he was determined. There was no stopping him. So arrangements were made through a bunch of faerie go-betweens for Kit to meet Mother Hawthorn. She had demanded a rendezvous near river water, so we went down to the Promenade in Chiswick. There’s an itty bitty park there, and a little bandstand. We all — me and Julian, Tessa and Jem and Kit — walked down there, pretty quietly and somberly. Tessa kept stroking Kit’s back, and it was clear she was trying not to cry. Jem looked like he wanted to kill someone. Kit just looked determined. And Jules — well, I’ll get to Jules.

We stayed some distance away while Kit crossed the dry grass toward the bandstand. As he approached, Mother Hawthorn came out of the trees, holding Mina, and started walking toward him.

Jules and I both tensed up, in case either Jem or Tessa made a break for the baby. We wouldn’t have blamed them, but we knew they couldn’t be allowed to do it – Kit had to be able to try to get Mina without a violent fight. All I can say is, you can kind of see how much they’ve both been through and endured over all the time they've been alive. They clutched each other’s hands and neither of them moved, even though you could see how desperately they wanted to run to their children. It was an incredible display of control, and heart-breaking too.

Kit and Mother Hawthorn came together in front of the bandstand. Of course we couldn’t hear anything of their conversation, but we could see that Mina immediately put her arms out for Kit. Kit tried to reach for her, but Mother Hawthorn held up a hand. She clearly wouldn’t give her back, and they started arguing. I could tell how angry Kit was, even though he was trying to hold onto control. He kept shaking his head no over and over, almost every time Mother Hawthorn spoke.

Anyway, after a couple of minutes of that, Mother Hawthorn started to laugh. She looked over — she clearly saw us and didn’t care — and snapped her fingers. Kit was flung to the ground; he rolled over and came up on his feet, but by then black vines were whipping up out of the ground, slashing at him, winding around his legs. Mina was screaming so loudly we could hear her.

“That’s enough,” Jem snarled, and started across the street. But Julian put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” he said, and we all stared at him — you know I have utter faith in Julian, but for a moment even I wondered if he’d gone crazy.

And then. Then there was this huge noise. I thought it was a helicopter at first, or maybe a bunch of helicopters, but then I realized no, the sound was stranger than that — it was hooves, beating against the sky. They passed over us and—it was Gwyn and Diana! I mean, it was the whole Wild Hunt, there were a couple dozen of them, some on horses, some on winged creatures I’d never seen before. But in front was Gwyn, with Diana on another horse behind him, her hair streaming out behind her.

Diana swooped down and grabbed Mina right out of Mother Hawthorn’s arms. Gwyn was right behind her, and seized up Mother Hawthorn in one arm—that guy is, uh, pretty strong I guess—and kind of slung her over the back of his horse. It looked pretty dangerous for Mother Hawthorn but you know, not a lot of sympathy for kidnappers here.

Diana swooped (the Wild Hunt does a lot of swooping, as you may recall) over to us, and gently handed Mina off to Jem and Tessa. Then Diana winked at us and rose back into the sky, and she and Gwyn and the whole rest of the Hunt ascended faster than I would have thought possible. I guess they had to get Mother Hawthorn away from us, which made sense. Anyway, they disappeared into the clouds and were gone.

I have to say, Diana’s wink was pretty badass. It made me miss doing badass stuff, a little. I think I’ll take Cortana out back tonight and seriously behead some weeds.

So anyway. Kit was running back toward us, and Tessa was crying in relief and Jem was staring at where the Wild Hunt had disappeared. Mina, of course, was fine. She kept saying, “Horsies!” which was hilarious, and then Kit got there and started fussing over her, and Julian and I stepped away to give the four of them space for their reunion.

Julian had one of those Looks on his face, and I had a hunch. “That was you, right?” I said. “You contacted the Wild Hunt.”

He shrugged. “Mother Hawthorn said not to contact the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, but the Wild Hunt is neither. They don’t swear allegiance to anybody.”

“Neither does Mother Hawthorn,” I said. “So it was like, ‘Wild fey, come get your wild friend, she is getting too wild?’”

“Something like that,” he said, and his voice was casual but I could tell he was pleased with himself. And all right, fine, I was pleased with him too, and I told him so.

On the way back to the house we asked Kit what it was Mother Hawthorn even wanted. He said she wanted to tell him he was the descendent of the first you-know-who (I know Kieran has told you something about Kit’s faerie heritage, but not all of it, and most people don't know) and that she had come to take him to live in Faerie where he belongs. He said he tried to make it clear that he didn’t want to live in Faerie, that he was satisfied with the life he had (although he kind of looked over at Jem and Tessa while he said it and I think satisfied is maybe less embarrassing to say than how he actually feels, which is much better than that). She just kept telling him it was his destiny and his duty, his fate would come for him soon enough if he didn’t bend to it, blah blah faerie stuff, you know how they are. (Uh, no offense if you’re reading this too, Kieran.)

I don’t think he was telling the whole truth, though, because Mother Hawthorn went to a lot of trouble just to send a message like that. I mean she could have put that on a postcard. It wasn’t anything Kit didn’t already know, basically. I am sure there was more she said that Kit didn’t want to share — I could tell from his expression. I hope he’ll tell Jem and Tessa, when he’s ready. At least we can be pretty sure Gwyn will make sure Mother Hawthorn stays away from him — it’s one less thing to worry about.

That’s about all the news from here, and I’m so relieved to be able to share it with you finally. I guess if Kieran needs more information he should reach out to Gwyn; I’ve told you pretty much all I know.

Take care, and talk to you soon, and love to K and M!

Emma

#sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #emma carstairs #cristina rosales #kit herondale #mina carstairs #julian blackthorn #the wild hunt #diana and gwyn #diana wrayburn #mother hawthorn #jem carstairs #tessa gray

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queen-haq · 6 months

Text

Fic: Never You (Polin) - Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

Chapter 6

Dearest Penny,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My journey home was perilous and took far too long. However, I did receive good news upon my arrival. Mother was awake in bed, the worst of her illness having passed recently. It will still take a few weeks but the doctor is confident she will recover fully. I have told her a lot about you. As I predicted, she is excited to meet you.

I miss you. I remind myself it’s only a matter of time before we can start our new life together, full of adventure and laughter, but it still feels too long.

Once my affairs are settled, I will be traveling to London to see you. I know your Mama will not take kindly to me but I hope to win her over with my intelligence and wit (I’m envisioning the mocking smile on your lips as I write this). If all else fails, I shall win her approval through jewelry, as you suggested. Hopefully that will alleviate her concerns about an untitled son-in-law.

Love,

Arthur.

Penelope read the letter again, smiling to herself. While she and Arthur could converse for hours, his letters tended to be short and to the point. And though they lacked a writer’s flair, his letters still felt distinctly like him and she appreciated that.

With other men she was shy and tongue-tied, and they were never interested in her anyway, but Arthur Debling had been different. At a dinner gathering in Ayleshire, it was he who had approached her, and once she got over her initial shyness the conversation flowed between them. Perhaps it was because he was a merchant and not a member of nobility, but from the very beginning he treated her with respect and a matter-of-fact stance rarely displayed by others. To him she wasn’t some woman in desperate hunt for a husband or an awkward, shy wallflower to be avoided at all times. She was Penelope Featherington and she was enough.

For the first few weeks there had been no romantic intentions, they simply talked of art and poetry. Over time she came to see he possessed a brilliant scientific mind that he went out of his way to hide. Only when she questioned him did he finally admit he was embarrassed of his intelligence and felt the need to dampen his curious mind from others. That was the first night she started to see him in a different light.

“Penelope!”

The sound of Mama's voice brought Penelope out of her reverie. After hiding the letter, she made her way toward her mother’s chamber in the opposite corner of the hallway. Portia was already dressed for bed and brushing her hair when Penelope entered the room. “Yes, Mama?”

The older woman cast her a quick glance in the mirror. “Lady Violet has invited us for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

Pen paused. Tea at the Bridgertons meant seeing Eloise and perhaps even Colin. “I will be in-”

“And before you come down with a sudden case of illness, I will remind you that personal invitations of this nature have been rare of late. We can not afford to turn down any, let alone the Bridgertons.”

Between the Marina scandal and then Cousin Jack, there were many who no longer wished to associate with the Featheringtons. While that was a relief for Pen, she knew the slow exclusion really hurt Portia even if she did hide the pain behind a mask of angry condescension.

“Yes, Mama. I understand.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, child. I will not have you looking haggard tomorrow.”

Penelope sauntered back to her chamber, her mind still reeling. No doubt Eloise would be present and angry with her. Would she at least pretend to be polite? Pen didn’t know. So far they had mostly avoided each other, except for the ball last week when Eloise had warned her to stay away from Colin.

After entering the chamber, she was busy locking the door when a noise startled her.

“Pen.”

Colin’s throaty growl made her gasp, her body suddenly taut.

Hesitant, she turned around.

It had been two days since she last saw him at the park. And now he was here in her chamber, shamelessly sitting at the edge of her bed. Hair tousled, clothes messy and disheveled, he stared at her intently. His face was unshaven, revealing a stubble growth of a day or two. Instead of taking away from his looks, however, it only emphasized his handsomeness more.

Her heart started pounding in her chest, both from the anger that flooded through her veins and the knowledge that his hold upon her was still so potent. “How did you get in here?” she asked, keeping her voice steady so he couldn’t sense how much his presence unnerved her.

“I climbed up the tree and through the window.”

As if violating her privacy was a daily occurrence for him.

“You’re so very determined to ruin me, aren’t you?”

“I was careful. No one saw me.”

“Well, that makes it alright then.”

“I didn’t take you as the sarcastic sort, Pen.”

“Add it to the growing list of things you don’t know about me.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes locked with hers.

The silence between them grew more tense by the second while they held still, as if a single movement could ignite a fire that would burn them both.

And then he stood up. “Do you know why I’m here, Pen?”

There was a button missing from his waistcoat, dirt on his breeches, and he had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. Her heart flipflopped in her chest. “I don’t care. I simply want you to leave.”

A bitter smile shadowed his lips. “Because it’s that easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve moved on already.”

“Yes.” The strength in her voice surprised even her when all she felt was anxiety twisting up her insides. “It’s time you do the same.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? That I’ve been trying?” Anger laced his words, hurt etched onto his face. “You don’t want to have anything to do with me yet I can’t imagine a single moment of my life without you. Why is that, Pen?”

With a slow and deliberate gait, he swaggered forward.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Your voice, your smile, your taunts...” He tapped the side of his temple erratically, eyes heavy with emotion. “Always in my fucking mind, refusing to give me even one moment of peace. You’ve been torturing me!"

With every step that drew him closer, waves of madness surged through her body. She didn’t want to feel like this, like her mind and body were completely out of her control.

“Why is this happening to me, Pen?” His voice cracked. “Why do I feel this way?” He clutched his heart, his long, lean fingers rubbing the spot over his waistcoat repeatedly. “It didn’t used to be like this, I was fine before! But now I think about you leaving me and it’s like I can’t breathe. Like a part of me will be lost forever.”

Her eyes softened. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the one who broke her heart. In his place was her dear friend, the boy she had known her entire life and loved for as long, and he was pleading for her help. “That empty feeling will go away, Colin. I promise.” She took a furtive step toward him. “You’ve only just returned, your life probably feels untethered with everything changing around you. But give it time, let yourself settle in, and things will be better.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Nothing will ever be the same without you.”

“It will, I promise.” She sent him a sad smile. “You will meet someone beautiful and kind, and she will be everything you ever wanted. The true love of your life. And this sadness that you feel right now will become a distant memory.”

A beat of silence followed as he contemplated her words.

Would the agonizing pain that coursed through her at the thought of him with another woman ever lessen? She didn’t know. Maybe with time and distance she would be free of this curse, but for now he was still very much embedded in her soul and the eventual reality of him falling in love made her want to retch.

“Is that what you think will happen for you, Pen? You’ll marry this Arthur and make me a distant memory?”

There was no outward change in him yet she immediately sensed the shift within.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Do you think I will let that happen?”

She stared at him defiantly as he approached her. “You have no say in my life.”

“But I do, Pen.” The glint in his gaze sharpened, making his blue eyes appear even darker. “Because it’s me you’re in love with. It’s me you swore never to forsake.” He came to a stop in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “I intend to hold you to that.”

Her anger returned. “And I intend to fight you. Because I will not sacrifice my future to appease your selfishness.”

“I know,” he sighed, regret looming over his face. “I should never have asked you to do that. But that’s why I’m here, Pen. I want to make things right between us.”

Her demand to know how died on her lips as soon as he retrieved something out of the pocket of his waistcoat. Stunned, she stood frozen as he held out an emerald ring, one she recognized right away from having seen Lady Violet wear it occasionally.

“My father gifted this to my mother on their tenth anniversary.” There was reverence in his voice as he spoke. “I think he chose it especially for the colour. It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“This has always been my favourite of mother’s jewelry. I knew one day I would gift it to my wife.”

Her mind went blank.

“And maybe now is that time.” He bent down on one knee in front of her, holding up the ring. “Will you marry me, Penelope Featherington?”

Time stopped.

For so long all she wanted was to be Colin’s wife. In her mind marrying him meant she would finally be happy and fulfilled. He would be the perfect husband, and she would be a member of the happy and loving Bridgerton family at last. All her dreams would finally be realized.

Except she wasn’t happy or even excited. The man she loved was on his knees, proposing to her, and all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. The proposal didn’t come from a place of love. No. Instead it was borne out of fear and a stubborn refusal to grow up. A last resort so he didn’t have to face losing their friendship.

Then there was Arthur. With him she didn’t have to hide, she could be who she truly was and not have to apologize for it. And she could continue to write, whether that be as Lady Whistledown, someone new or even herself, and do so without shame or regret.

Colin may have been her lifelong dream but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have new ones. And with Arthur, the life she wanted was within her grasp. A true possibility rather than simple fantasy.

Immediately she felt a sense of peace, knowing she was doing the right thing for herself. “I’ve already said this to you before. I’m betrothed to another.”

In one fluid motion he slid the ring back into his pocket before rising to his full height. He had always towered over her but that had never intimidated her before. For the first time she felt a small twinge of fear percolating in her stomach, realizing the stark darkness on his face was also new.

He was quiet, too quiet, stalking her every move with his eyes, slowly pushing forward. A predator enjoying the rituals of the hunt, preparing his prey for the kill. Instinctively she retreated, moving back until the door lodged against her spine. He continued to move in, slowly but ferociously, invading every inch of her space until he was standing directly in front of her. She craned her neck to meet his stare, refusing to bow down.

“Is that a no, Penelope?”

She couldn’t think with him so close but she held strong. "Yes."

“Even though you’re in love with me and not fucking Arthur.”

Maybe he thought throwing her love back in her face would embarrass her into submission but it had the opposite effect. Infuriated, she stood on her tiptoes to glare up at him. "So what? You think you can use my feelings to manipulate me?" She shook her head no. "I have dreams that matter to me far more than my love for you. And I will not jeopardize my chance to achieve them just for scraps of your attention."

Her words were meant to provoke his temper so he would withdraw. Instead his eyes softened as he hunched lower to look at her, his gaze roaming languidly over her face, a gentleness to them that made her insides dance with anticipation. She trembled when his hands cupped her cheeks while he studied every inch of her features, as if marking her in his memory. And then his thumb gently brushed over her pout, his dark blue eyes following the tremor of her lips, and all she could do was breathe slowly, tentatively, her heart drumming in her chest.

“I used to think you were the sweetest person I knew. Always so kind and agreeable,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “And easily forgotten.”

It hurt. Even though she had always known that that’s how people viewed her, if they bothered to see her at all - but to have him admit it was a different kind of pain. “Then forget me. Leave.”

He didn’t move, his gaze concentrated on her lips, thumb stroking left to right, right to left. “And now I can’t get this impertinent mouth of yours out of my head.”

It came as a shock when she realized Colin was hard, his erection pressed against her body. "You're aroused."

He met her eyes. “I’m aware.”

She swallowed audibly. “Why?”

Irritation surged through him. “You’re here, dressed in a robe with your beautiful hair down, talking to me, arguing with me, breathing around me, and you ask me why I’m aroused?” His hands slid down her body until they were at her waist, fingers curving into her sides as he pressed her tightly against him.

A faint gasp escaped her lips feeling his hardness.

“I want you, Pen,” was his raw, throaty plea. “I can’t stop.”

“Show me.” Her voice was firm, determined. “Show me how much you want me.”

To be contined...

A/N - Thank you for the support on this fic. Hope you're still enjoying it!

#polin #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #bridgerton #my fics

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emeritusemeritus · 7 months

Note

HIII im so happy your requests are open you’re one of my favorite writers on here!!! i’ve been craving more twins x reader content and i’ve always wanted to see them pining after an oblivious customer at the shop like literally spelling it out for her and just her being a bit dense thinking that she’s just a valued customer 😀 love your work and hope you have a great week!!

Thank you so much!! This was an absolute pleasure to write, I really hope it’s okay for you! 🖤

Warnings: None? Mentions of implied kissing, reader is completely oblivious. Fred is as charming as ever and George is a sweetheart.

Word count: 1.8k

Paying Customers.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had quickly become your favourite spot in all of Diagon Alley. It was vibrant and exciting, a draw for many witches and wizards without any hint of discrimination and it didn't hurt that the two owners were two of the most handsome men you'd ever seen, not that you'd dream of telling them that.

Your first visit to the shop has been an accident really, hunting down a perfect gift for your nephew who was just about to start his first year at Hogwarts. One of the owners, who you found out to be Fred had helped you find the most perfect gift that had been an overwhelming success with your nephew. The second time, he was slightly different than you remembered and you'd convinced yourself that you had just remembered him differently until the very man you'd been secretly thinking about since your first time at the shop walked out and greeted you with a big smile. That was the first time you met George, and unceremoniously found out that they were identical twins.

Since then you'd been back numerous times, sometimes for gifts, sometimes for more personal reasons and has even started dropping in on your lunch break just to chat to the twins as your friendship grew. They were abundantly friendly and chatty, so naturally funny and charming that it was easy to talk with them and they always made you feel incredibly welcome. Fred had invited you to the shop to share your lunch break together multiple times and you'd even found yourself hanging around as the store closed around you because George wanted company.

"I'm so excited!" Valerie, one of your best friends says enthusiastically as you step into Diagon Alley. She was from France and was educated at Beauxbatons, missing the cut off for the Triwizard Tournament by one year, something she was still peeved about. She was visiting you in London and she'd made you promise to take her to the place you kept mentioning in your letters.

You laugh along, seeing her excited face as you round the corner, walking past Ollivanders until the figurehead of the twins appeared up ahead, the brilliantly vibrant orange building standing out against the muted palettes of the other shops.

"Afternoon ladies," you hear from beside you, waking a grin spread across your face. Fred.

"Hi Freddie," you smile up at him, seeing his broad grin already stretched out across his face. His gaze flashes to Val and you briefly introduce them until your attention is pulled away by George who appears on your other side, already eagerly talking to you about the new product he'd been working on, the same one you'd offered to help with only the other night, pausing briefly to introduce himself to Val.

"Right Georgie, reckon we best get back to the paying customers," Fred says with a wink in your direction, pulling his brother away as they go back to assisting the other customers in the shop. George touches your shoulder gently as he squeezes past and gives you a sweet smile before heading off, immediately going over to a little boy and his mum who are looking at the Pygmy puffs. Your eyes trail towards Fred who's lingering around the love potion stand, trying to flog them to a group of witches who look to be around their third year. When he spots you looking, he gives you a little smirk and another wink, gesturing towards the love potions with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You can't help but smile, giggling a little before you look away, turning back to Val.

Her eyebrow is raised at you and her face holds a knowing smirk, already implying something.

"So what did they mean 'paying customers', are you not one?"

You give a little shrug, "they give me a discount, sometimes they let me test things, it's nothing really."

Her face says everything she isn't saying, she's delighted but judgy, as if she doesn't believe a single thing you were saying. You laugh and nudge her gently, "really, we're friends."

"Very friendly friends?" She teases with a wiggle of her eyebrows but you nudge her again and tell her to behave, not wanting to get into it, especially in a place that created and sold extendable ears, nothing was safe from the Weasley Twins.

She walks over to the Peruvian instant darkness powder, picking up a crystal and examining it in her hands with a smile on her face.

"So how can you tell them apart? You knew straight away," she says, casting her gaze over to you as she puts down the crystal and moves across to the next shelf, the display of wonderwitch products; carefully avoiding the puking pastilles on the way.

"Oh I don't know, they don't look that similar to me anymore. I suppose it's mannerisms mainly, Fred usually talks first and George is better at explaining things," you explain, stopping your eyes from wandering back to the owners.

"Hmm," she says with a smirk, still holding back what she was going to say.

Suddenly, the rolling ladder appears from the side with George clutching on to the steps, his smile splayed across his face as he appears.

"Pimple vanisher, yeah it really works," George says nodding his head, "tried it myself, well on Ron anyway. Ten seconds and your spots are gone."

"But how?" Val says, beguiled by the magic behind it. You stand back and watch, enjoying seeing George so effortlessly charming, showing what he'd created.

"Course, some of us don't need it do we y/n?" He says, looking up to you with a sweet smile, "must be good genetics."

"Or maybe I'm an avid Wheezes tester with a very rigid skincare routine," you play along, holding up the little pot of vanisher.

"That's a good sale!" He says with excitement, "want a job? Could do with prettying up the employees."

"Pretty sure you and Fred were trying to work out who was more handsome last night, I think you know you're pretty enough," you smirk, earning a chuckle from George.

"Clearly I won," he adds, flashing a grin at Val.

"What are everlasting eyelashes?" She says, picking at the pink and black box.

"Exactly what they say on the box," George flashes her a teasing smirk before pulling you closer to him by the hand, displaying you. "Want lashes like these? Make the boys really notice your beautiful eyes? Just need this box and your dreams will come true."

"You think she has beautiful eyes?" Val teases, goading George but it doesn't work, he bites back almost instantly, nodding enthusiastically.

"Wanted to put her photo on the box but she wouldn't let me," he chuckles with a little shrug before pausing for a moment and reaching up high for the little package of flirting fancies.

"Make any man fall at your feet with these, just one bite and they'll be smitten," he says, handing the neatly wrapped box to Val.

"Think you might have accidentally ingested one," she mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear and covering it with a smile as she looks over the box. You subtly nudge her and she relents, but not before shooting you a wicked look.

"Anything you want, on the house," George smiles, flashing you one last look before rolling away and starting anew with his next customer.

"Right tell me honestly, how many of these have you given him?"

"Val! I told you we're friends," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"You might want to tell him that," she quips, nodding her head towards the space behind you. As soon as you turn, you're met with the rather solid chest of Fred Weasley.

"Ladies," he smirks with a dramatic bow of his head, his hand reaching up to touch your shoulder gently.

"You give all your customers this much attention?" Val asks with raised but playful brows, completely ignoring your glare.

"Only the prettiest ones," Fred replies, reaching out to grab the little pot beside the love potions. Val shoots you another knowing look with her eyes and you wordlessly tell her to shut up with your own, doubling down on the harsh glare.

"Kissing concoction," he says, holding up the little pot of almost clear liquid, "makes the drinker become longingly infatuated with the giver, just long enough to ensure only the best kisses will be shared. Made with real pearl dust as well."

"Maybe I could try it on you?" Val asks, suddenly getting flirty with Fred, "prove that it really works."

You don't miss the way his tongue slips out to meet his lips as he clears his throat, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably.

"No can do I'm afraid, store policy," he smirks, recovering quickly with the banter.

"But if y/n asked?" Val says sweetly, smiling devilishly between the two of you, making you have to fight to stop your eyes rolling at her insinuation.

"Well she is a valued customer," he says with a pause, pretending to think, finger tapping on his chin, "but rules are rules and who am I to ever break them?"

You can't help but snort out a little laugh, knowing exactly how Fred Weasley felt about rules but you don't say anything, knowing it would only fuel the fire. He looks at you with a teasing smirk but you look away, feeling Val's gaze flicking between the both of you.

"You're so oblivious aren't you," she says whilst walking around the shop, keeping the Pygmy puff she’d painstakingly picked out tucked protectively under one arm.

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning in her direction, pausing to grab a trick wand for your nephew from the basket near the till.

She shoots you a look, showing her disbelief, “let me think, they give you a discount, one of them has said in no complex way that you had beautiful eyes and perfect skin.”

“George was just,” you interrupt, only for her to look at you with a mild glare, not open to listening to your excuses.

“The other said he’d kiss you and that you were pretty, they clearly like you!”

“I just come in a lot, they’re good businessmen, you know flattery gets your everywhere right? You’re not gonna be rude to a valued customer,” you argue.

“You don’t have to be that friendly either,” she retorts with a sarcastic smile, checking out the pyro display in front of her, dropping the subject.

Your attention drifts away and you subtly turn to your left, feeling eyes upon you. There’s a brief moment where you realise that both Fred and George are watching you from the middle landing on the stairs, both leaning on the rail, before they notice that you’re watching them. As soon as you turn further, they instantly spring into action, pretending they weren’t watching you and spring into action helping the customers, almost comically so.

Your gaze shifts back to Val and you begin to wonder, could she be right?

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #fred weasley drabble #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #requests

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vodika-vibes · 10 months

Text

A Loving Man pt. II

Summary: Several weeks after Crosshair sent a letter to his brothers, you get a surprise visitor.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 2237

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This idea has been living in my head for several days, and since I decided that today is my "write personal projects rather than requests day" I decided to actually write it.

It’s a lazy summer day, and you’re enjoying your day off. It would be better, arguably, if Crosshair also had the day off, but he doesn’t, which means that instead of going to the lake with him, you’re hanging out at home, sitting on the back porch with a new novel and a glass of lemonade.

It’s a fine way to relax, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind for the day.

You absently take a sip of your lemonade when you hear the familiar sound of a speeder approaching your home. You set your glass back on the table and place your datapad down beside it, and you get to your feet.

As the speeder comes to a stop in front of your home, you step off the staircase and walk over to the familiar vehicle. “Mister Willis?” You call, “Is everything alright?”

A slightly older man opens the door and steps out, “Hey there, Doc!” He beams at you and walks around to the other side of the speeder, “Was out by my blinds, checking on them for next season, when I stumbled on…well, see for yourself.”

He pulls the door open and stands to the side, allowing a slender, blonde child to step out of the speeder.

“You found a kid? Near your hunting blind” You ask, horrified. The Willis’ hunting blind was close to three hours away from the town, and wasn’t a safe place at any time of year, but especially not during the middle of summer.

“Yes ma’am,” He helps the girl limp around the speeder, “She’s lucky I showed up when I did. She was already getting swarmed. I did what I could, but-”

“But the Hornets aren’t the most forgiving.” You finish, as you hurry over to the girl and kneel in front of her with a soothing smile, “Well, the good thing is that you’re not allergic. But you’re probably in a lot of pain.”

The little girl nods miserably.

“Why bring her here?” You ask, as you look up at Mister Willis, “The clinic’s closer.”

“She has a picture of you and Cross with your address scribbled on the back,” He replies, “Didn’t know you were expecting company, Doc.”

The little girl sniffles, like she’s trying to not cry, and she fishes around in her jacket pocket. And then she hands over a well folded picture. It’s the picture that Crosshair sent to his brothers all those weeks ago.

Well…a copy at least.

“Honestly, we weren’t either.” You reply dryly, before you set a light hand on the girl’s shoulder, “You’re Omega, right? Crosshair’s little sister?”

“Yeah.”

You smile warmly, “Let’s get you inside, and see if I can make some of that pain go away, yeah?” You offer Omega your arm, and she clings to it for support, “Thanks for bringing her here, Mister Willis.”

“No worries, Doc. I wouldn’t leave a kid out there to fend for herself.” He sighs, “I’ll grab my boys, and we’ll tow her ship to the landing pad in a couple of days. Give the hornets time to move on.”

“That sounds like a plan,” You smile at him gratefully, and as he climbs back into his speeder, you carefully help Omega into your home, and guide her to sit on the couch.

Omega is quiet as you check over the welts that come from being swarmed by hornets, “I didn’t mean to rile them up.” She says quietly.

“It’s alright. You couldn’t have known.” Your voice is gentle, “I’m just glad that you were found before the situation grew worse.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” You stand and duck into the kitchen for a moment, and you return with an ice pop for Omega, as well as your emergency first aid kit, “Here you go, one ice pop for you to eat while I patch you up.”

“Oh, thank you,” Omega smiles weakly as she accepts the treat, and then she falls silent again.

You treat her injuries, just as quietly, and then you sit back on your heels, “How are you feeling?”

“It hurts a little, but not like it was.”

“Good. Just sit for a little longer, and the pain should fade completely,” You repack your kit, “Alright. While you do that, I’m going to comm Cross. He’s going to have some questions for you, kiddo.”

“Yeah, I know.” Omega’s shoulders hunch slightly, “Thank you for not yelling at me.”

“You might not be thanking me when Cross gets home.” You lightly ruffle her hair, “Fresher is down the hall if you need it, and you can watch whatever you like on the holo. Do you need something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.” And then you get to your feet, and you step into the kitchen, pulling your comm out of your pocket as you do so.

You sial the comm code you know by heart, and wait a moment.

“Cyare?” Crosshair’s voice comes across the comm, no video, but that’s more than fine. “Is something wrong?” You can hear the hint of concern in his voice, and you feel bad about it. You never call him during the workday.

“Everything’s alright,” You hasten to reassure, “Just…we have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Crosshair asks, “A patient came to the house? Do you need me to come home to kick them out?”

“Yes, a visitor, and yes, technically she’s a patient. And yes, I do need you to come home, but not to kick her out.” You list, “Cross, it’s Omega.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear the sound of him walking, and then a heavy door opening and shutting, and the next thing you know the comm’s video feed connects, “What?”

“You’re little sister, Omega. She’s currently sitting on our couch. Poor thing was swarmed by hornets. Mister Willis found her by his blind.” You reply.

“What about the others?”

“Just Omega.” You sigh, “If I had to guess, I would say that she decided to come and see you without permission. She has a copy of the picture you sent to your brothers, with our address scribbled on the back.”

He runs his hand through his hair, “You think she ran away?”

“Hm…I don’t think that was her intention, so much as the result of what was her intention.”

He shoots you a puzzled look.

“I think she wanted to see you, Cross.” You clarify, “I don’t have a problem keeping an eye on her, but-”

“But I should probably come home.” He runs his hand through his hair again, and a heavy sigh falls from him, “Alright, I’ll be home in 10.”

“I’ll see you then.” You smile at him, “Love you.”

“Love you more.” And then the comm closes, and you peek into the living room, where Omega is watching a movie, and you turn to busy yourself with making lunch for three.

Sandwiches are easy and quick to put together, so you throw some together. Just as you finish the last sandwich, you hear Crosshair’s speeder come to a stop outside, and he comes in the side door.

He greets you with a faint smile, and he presses a light kiss against your forehead, “You made lunch.”

“Hard conversations are easier over food,” You reply promptly as you reach up and smooth the collar of his jumpsuit, and then you press a quick kiss against his lips, “Do you want to shower?”

He sighs and bumps his forehead against yours, “Better get this over with.” And then he pauses, “What do I say?”

“Why don’t you let her take the lead?” You offer, as you lightly brush your fingers against his cheek, “We can decide what to do after we talk to her, yes?”

“How did I get so lucky to end up with someone so smart?”

“Well, I picked you, for one-” You tease with a grin, and Crosshair laughs. He kisses you quickly, and then reaches around you to set plates on the table.

“Omega,” He calls even as he smiles down at you, “Lunch!”

Omega pokes her head into the room and she nervously looks up at Crosshair, as if expecting to see anger. Though he’s very calm. “You didn’t have to make lunch,” She says to you, “But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure what condiments you like, so I left them all out for you.” You reply.

Omega takes a seat at the table, and starts making her sandwich. Almost identical to the way that you make Crosshair’s, and you smother your grin behind your hand. Not quick enough, though, as Crosshair sees it and he lightly pinches your side.

He kisses the side of your head, and takes a seat as well, after he lightly pushes you into your seat. The three of you eat in silence for a moment, and then Crosshair looks at Omega, “So…” He starts slowly, “How did you get here?”

Omega flushes, “I…uhm…borrowed a ship.”

“Borrowed or stole?”

She ducks her head, “Stole…technically.”

“Okay, follow-up question, does Hunter know you’re here?” Crosshair asks.

Omega flushes even more, “Um…well…he doesn’t, no.” Crosshair raises an eyebrow, and Omega hastens to continue, “He got the letter from you and then he hid it from me! And I found it, and I saw that you wrote that we had an open invitation, and Hunter was never going to come and-and-and we’re still family and-!”

“Easy there, kid.” Crosshair interrupts, “I’m not mad that you came to see us.”

“You…you’re not?”

“Nope. I wouldn’t have written the open invitation if I didn’t mean it.” Crosshair continues with a shrug, “I am, however, disappointed that you would run away from Hunter and the others and steal a ship.”

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse.” Omega grumbles, and then flushes as Crosshair shoots her a look, “Sorry.”

“Do you have anything you want to add, cyare?” Crosshair asks you.

And you smile at him adoringly, “Just that you’re going to be an amazing dad someday.”

Crosshair falters, and then presses his hand over your eyes, “Eat your sandwich.” He grumbles, his face burning, as he turns back to Omega, “After you finish eating, we’re going to call Hunter.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes,” You and Crosshair say in unison.

Omega looks from you to Crosshair and then back again. And then she giggles, “You’ve been good for him.”

“I like to think so.” You agree, “He’s not nearly so grumpy now.”

Crosshair sighs, but he doesn’t deny it, “How about we call Hunter now?” He asks as he drops his comm on the table, “Go ahead, Omega.”

Omega hesitates, and then enters a comm code.

The other line rings for a moment, and then connects, revealing Echo on the other end, and Crosshair sighs, “I realize that we all look the same, Omega, but Echo is not Hunter.”

“I know. But Hunter’s going to be angry-”

“Omega? Cross-” Echo sputters, “Hunter’s not the only one angry, Omega! I’m angry too! Where are you?”

“I’m with Crosshair.” Omega says, “Hunter wasn’t going to let me visit him and I decided that I disagree!”

Echo looks bewildered for a moment, “What?”

“Crosshair’s letter,” Omega clarified, “I know I’m the only one who wasn’t allowed to see it-”

“Oh.” Echo sighs, “He wasn’t keeping it from you to hurt you, Omega. He just didn’t want to get your hopes up. We were going to tell you as soon as we decided if we were going to visit.”

“Well,” Omega says, “Now you have to.”

“Oh, you could take the ship you stole back-”

“No, actually, she can’t. The ship needs to be fumigated before it’s allowed anywhere near civilization.” You interrupt, before you look at Crosshair, “The Willis’ are dealing with that and towing the ship to the landing pad when it’s safe to do so.”

“Huh, good for them. They’ll probably need help.”

“Probably,” You agree, “But that’s a problem for later, not now.”

“Right, right.” Crosshair agrees, before he looks at Echo, “The invitation stands, we can find someplace to put you all up for a night or more.”

“And we have space for Omega, until you all can come and get her.” You interrupt.

“That too.”

Echo looks from you to Crosshair, and a small smile crosses his face, “You’ve mellowed out a lot, Cross.” He says quietly.

“Thanks, it’s the therapy.” Crosshair says dryly. “Well, that and the one person who never managed to see anything bad in me.” He motions to you.

“Well then. I look forward to meeting you in person.” Echo’s grin becomes sly, “Don’t worry, I’ll manage to get everyone to agree to come and visit. It won’t even take long.” And then he looks at Omega, “Be good.”

And then the call cuts, and the kitchen falls silent, “Well,” you say after a moment, “Omega needs some proper clothes for the weather here. And we need some additional food-”

“Lunch first, and then shopping. Plus, I need to shower before I go anywhere. I’m covered in motor oil.” Crosshair says, “But I suppose then we can go shopping.”

And with that decided, the conversation becomes much more casual, with Omega grilling you on what you do for a living, and what Crosshair does for a living, and what the planet is like.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #In my mind #crosshair grew his hair out #and he's got long enough hair to pull in a ponytail #but he's also got an undercut

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