#I think they do have an open marriage but I think this neither saves nor dooms them I think it’s just entirely unrelated to their

[dykesynthezoid]

Damanda 2 me is like… diversity win! This m/f couple on the verge of divorce is bisexual!

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART SEVEN/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: Tommy's anger rains down on Y/N as her punishment for leaving him takes his brutality to a new level.

Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, murder, violence, psychological mind games, toxic marriage, psychological abuse, adult themes, controlling behaviour, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Face to face with your husband, his gun pointing straight at you, you stood there along the deserted country lane as you watched his face contour with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as the blood in his body tried to keep up with his escalating fury. All the eerie calmness had left him, he was seething with anger, his teeth gritted as he stared you down, the hunt was over, his prey at his mercy. Closing your eyes you steadied your breathing as you took in the faint sounds of the surrounding countryside. The smell of wild flowers filled your senses, the sound of birds chirping over head muffled the noise of your husbands heavy breathing, a light summer breeze sent goosebumps through your body as a calmness swept over you, you was ready.

" LOOK AT ME!" Tommy shouted as your eyes stayed shut. "FUCKING LOOK AT ME Y/N!" he said again, his voice trembling as he tried to control his mounting anger.

"Just do it Tommy! " You cried as you opened your eyes, the calmness of a peaceful death slowly disappearing from you.

" What...you think I'm gonna kill you, you're my wife!" Tommy shouted as his hand gripped the gun tighter, sweat coating his fingers as his knuckles turned an opaque white. "I love you and you left me, you fucking LEFT ME!" Tommy yelled as he lowered his gun, striking you across the face with his other hand, the force of it sending you to the ground.

" FUCKKK!" Tommy shouted as he looked down at you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you held on to your reddened face. "Look what you made me do!" Tommy said pulling you up from the ground, his hands grabbing hold of your arms as he looked at the end result of his untameable anger.

" I..I can't do this anymore " you pleaded with him as you felt your body go limp, Tommy's unyielding grip the only thing holding you up. "Let me leave Tommy...please, let me leave or just end it for me"

" You're not going anywhere Y/N, do you understand? I will not let you leave neither freely nor by my hand. You're mine, and you'll stay with me"

" Y/N!" You heard Polly's voice say from behind you as she ran down to where you and Tommy were standing, Tommy's grip on your arms loosening as he slowly let go.

"Oh love, we've all been so worried about you, come here let me look at you" she said, her eyes widening as she pulled your hand from your swollen face." You fucking bastard!" Polly shouted, repeatedly hitting her nephew across his chest as Tommy tried to grab hold of her wrists.

" I fell Polly!...I fell" you said moving in between her and Tommy, shielding your husband from his Aunt's anger.

" That's what they all say" she replied, ready to lunge at him once again.

" It's true Polly, I swear it... I, I slipped running down the path" you said turning around to look at Tommy, his eyes bearing down at you whilst he placed his hand on your lower back, a shiver running through your body in response to his touch.

" Running? Running from him!" Polly said moving you out the way as she pointed at her nephew. "I know what you have been up to Thomas Michael Shelby. Your games end now. I will not let you torment this girl any longer. I warned you you'd push her away, and that's exactly what you did" Polly said as she grabbed your arm, walking you back up the hill with her.

" Polly stop, Its not like that, I love him" you said pulling away from her, your head turning around to see Tommy stood there staring at you, his hands in his pockets as a devilish look settled in his eyes. Your punishment would be far worse if you left your husband for a second time, even Polly wouldn't be a able to save you from that. You had to return to him. Turning around you began walking back down to your husband, placing your hands on his chest as you leaned in to press your lips to his in a show of loyalty, one you hoped Tommy would remember when he would unleash his retribution on you.

" Nice try darling, that was quite the show" he whispered to you as he placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to his face as he crashed his lips back on to yours in an embrace fueled by anger and control.

" See Polly, everything is how it should be. Things just got a little overwhelming for you, didn't they sweetheart?" Tommy said letting go of you, a smirk forming on his lips as he took your hand into his, walking you back to the school playing the game you had now started.

" Y/N...Y/N!" Robert shouted as he ran over to you. "Get off her!" he yelled pushing Tommy away from you. A small laugh left your husbands lips in amusement at Roberts bold show of fearlessness or as Tommy thought, foolishness. Did he not know who he was? Lighting a cigarette Tommy watched as Robert's eyes darted between yours and your bruised cheek.

" Tell my Y/N, did he do that to you?" he said squinting his eyes as he looked at your battered face.

" Robert stop, you need to stop" you said in a hushed voice your eyes darting between him and Tommy whose stare was now narrowing in on you both, his body tensing up as he watched on.

" I'll call the Police, we can get you away from him. God, look at your face..." he replied as his hand reached up to cradle your cheek in his palm, concern filling his eyes. A caring gesture to anyone else, but not to your husband. To Tommy, he had had just done the unthinkable, he had just signed his own death warrant. With your eyes widening you pulled Roberts hand away from your face as your stare fixed on your husband throwing his cigarette on the ground, storming over to you both.

" Tommy no!" Polly shouted as she watched the scene play out, unable to hold her nephew back.

" Did you fuck my wife!? Did you?!" Tommy shouted as he punched Robert in the face, repeatedly kicking him in his ribs as he lay down on the graveled car park. Snapping his head around, Tommy's anger now turned to you. Grabbing you by your arms he walked you backwards until you hit the door of his car, his body pressed firmly against yours as he breathed into your ear.

"Got a taste of dick and now you want more, like a common whore" he seethed through gritted teeth, his hands digging into your skin as you shook your head, wincing at the pain.

" Tommy he's just a friend, nothing happened, please..."

" You don't have friends Y/N, you have me, you only need me" he said as he turned his head to watch Polly helping Robert up from the ground. Clenching his jaw Tommy looked over your face as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, forcing a smile through the anger that coursed through his veins.

"You think he can make you feel the way I do" he said as he pressed his cheek to yours, his arm hooking around your back, bringing you closer to him.

"Do you remember how good it felt, hmm?" He said as his hand traveled down your body grabbing the inside of your upper thigh, a groan leaving his mouth. "The way I made you moan, how you begged for it" he whispered quietly in your ear, his hand squeezing your delicate flesh as a smirk grew on his lips. Turning your head to your husband, you was met with a darkness overtaking his eyes, a darkness you knew was seconds from making it's presence known, it's chosen victim, Robert. Darting your eyes to your friend, you watched as he stared back at you, tears running down your face as you silently begged him to flee from his fate. "You're mine Y/N, you belong to me" Tommy seethed as he grabbed your chin to face him. "What I'm about to do is your fault sweetheart, you remember that"

Letting go Tommy walked backwards as Polly came rushing to your side, pleading with you to look away. With no show of apprehension Tommy pulled out his gun from its holster as he turned to face Robert. With a smirk on his face Tommy pulled the trigger killing Robert instantly, execution style, point blank in the head. Jolting at the sound of the gun you blinked as tears fell down your eyes, your ears ringing from the sound of the gunshot as Polly's shouts muffled in your ears. You felt numb, motionless, unable to move or speak as Tommy continued to stare you down, waiting for your reaction. But he didn't get one, instead you looked down at your arm, as you stared at the drops of blood covering your skin staining you forever with the death of your friend, a death that was your fault.

" Y/N we need to go!" Polly said pulling at your arm, pulling you from whatever other-wordly state you had entered. "Tommy!" She shouted trying to get her nephews attention as he lit a cigarette, placing it between his lips as he inhaled a large drag of the sweet tobacco.

" Nobody touches my wife" he said throwing the half smoked cigarette beside Roberts lifeless body as he casually walked away.

Sitting in the back of the car on your way to Arrow House, you looked out the window in a daze, dried tears pulling at your skin as you stayed silent. The distant sound of Polly's panicked voice trying to come up with a plan muted in your ears as the ringing from the gunshot still rattled your brain. You dared not look away from the window, the crushing feeling of Tommy's eyes glaring at you through the rear view mirror burned through your skin, tempting you with curiosity to look his way. What did you think would happen when Tommy found out? Had you gotten so caught up in your new life that you had let your guard down enough to forget your husband's brutality? Roberts death was the result of your actions, an innocent life taken away unjustly, viciously, all at the hands of your husband, hands that were now gripping hold of the steering wheel in front of him, a grip you knew you would soon feel on your own skin, for Tommy had only just gotten started.

Pulling into Arrow house your husband ordered Polly to call his men to dispose of Roberts body as he dragged you out the car walking you into the house you never thought you would step back in, his hold on your arm painfully tight.

Marching you up the stairs Tommy threw open your bedroom door, your eyes widening at the almost empty room, the only thing occupying it was the bed you had shared, your satin night gown neatly folded on top of it. Everything else had been removed, the curtains drawn, the bathroom closed off, it was a prison cell, a cell where Tommy intended to keep you. Pushing you in, he slammed the door behind him as he marched forward grabbing you by your waist as he ripped the bloodied clothes from your body with his other hand.

" Your perfume still lingers on it" he said sarcastically, shoving your night gown into your hands as he looked up and down your body, his tongue pressing on the roof of his mouth as he watched you get changed.

" Tommy I'm sorry" you sobbed, as you reached your hand out to touch his cheek in a desperate attempt to avoid the punishment you had coming your way.

" You won't fool me with that shit a second time" Tommy said as he grabbed you by your wrist stopping you from touching him.

" Is this your big plan, keep me prisoner in this room!" you shouted as Tommy turned away from you, heading for the door. " Polly knows Tommy, she knows what you have been doing to me. The great Thomas Shelby's mask has finally slipped! You can't get away with it this time, you shot a man, everyone can now see you for the monster you are" Marching back to you, Tommy grabbed you by your chin as you held onto his arm for balance.

" You think that bastard is the first man I've killed, hm?" This is what we do love this is who we are, Polly will do nothing. And you, you will stay here in this fucking room, until I say otherwise!" he said letting go of you as he stormed out the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him as the sound of a key turning on the opposite side secured his sadistic plan. You was at his mercy, your fate now shackled to the four walls around you.

Later that night as you lay in bed you heard the door to the bedroom open, your husbands heavy footsteps approaching you as the sound of each item of clothing hitting the floor echoed through the empty room.

" Sit up Y/N. I know you're awake" he said as you turned around to face him, your eyes darting to the gun still in its holster carelessly sitting on top of the bed.

" Don't get any ideas. Now give me your hand" he said as he watched your eyes move from the gun to him. Taking your wrist Tommy pulled it closer to him as your eyes widened at the sight of your wedding ring in his other hand. As Tommy slipped the ring securely onto your finger, panic quickly rose within you, how did he find it?

" Tommy how did you..." You said as he interrupted you.

" How did I find it?" he replied, a smirk on his lips as he sat down next to you. " We found your little hideaway Y/N. The lovely Mr and Mrs Riley and their sweet baby boy welcomed us in" he added as you brought your hand to your mouth, tears welling in your eyes. Had he killed them like he had killed Robert?

"What, you think I'd kill an innocent baby and his parents, I'm not a monster Y/N" he said, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he got under the sheets. But he was a monster, committing the most monstrous act only a few hours ago, how could he not see it, did he really believe Robert deserved to die?

" Lay down" he said as he reached his hand out for you.

" And my mother, where's my mother Tommy, is she dead?" You asked, your voice croaking from the countless tears you had spent crying for your friend.

"I said lay down"

" Tommy..."

" No, now do as I say" he answered as he sat back up, irritated by your relentless questions.

" I need to use the bathroom" you announced, throwing the bed sheets of you as you stood up.

" Then go, right there" Tommy said pointing to a small ceramic pot in the corner of the room.

" Tommy no, I won't. Let me use the bathroom, please"

" You don't have a choice sweetheart, you can't be trusted, can you?" he replied a chuckle leaving his lips as you continued to stand there defiantly. Quickly growing inpatient, Tommy got up storming over to you, grabbing you by the arm as he led you to the corner of the room.

" Go" he said as he pushed you closer to the wall.

" I won't with you here" you replied standing your ground. With a smirk playing on his lips Tommy reached under your night gown tearing your underwear from your bare skin as he pushed you down onto the chamber pot. Shame covered your face as tears started to fall down your cheeks, his cruelness only embarrassing you more when he sat at the end of the bed watching you.

"Now come to bed" he said as you got up, pulling your dress back down over your body as you sheepishly walked back over to him.

With Tommy now laying behind you, his arm securely wrapped around your stomach, you looked down at the gun in his hand as it rested on your body. You were inches from death. At any given moment Tommy could decide to end your life, all with the pull of a trigger.

" Now go to sleep or else you won't get the surprise I have planned for you tomorrow" he said as you felt his lips smile against the flesh of your neck, his arm tightening around your body. Closing your eyes you listened to the constant drumming of your beating heart in your ears as fear overtook every emotion you possessed. There was no way out of this, no way to escape it, you would have to face the punishment you was due.

The next morning your woke up to the feeling of Tommy kissing your neck, his fingers roaming over the curves of your body as he dipped his hand under your night dress, grabbing at your soft skin.

" I need the bathroom" you said urgently as you stood up not wanting to be held in his arms any longer. Running his hands through his hair Tommy clenched his jaw in frustration as he grabbed his clothes, storming out the room. His desire for you had not faded, if anything he had become more persistent with his attempts. Having already had a taste of what he constantly longed for, his greed for you was consuming him. He wanted more, and after two months away from you he was close to breaking point.

The hours passed by as you laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling as you counted the cracks in the painted plaster. Your thoughts were the only thing keeping you company, setting you on edge as you played through the previous day's events over and over again in your head, unable to escape them.

The sound of a door slamming suddenly caught your attention as you instantly sat up, your nerves so heightened that the noise of a pin drop would have you jolting up. Walking over to the window you wrapped one of the bed sheets around your body as you gave the handle a tug in hopes it would magically open. Looking down you quickly noticed Tommy standing by a horse trailer a cigarette in his mouth as he looked up at the window like he had been waiting for you to appear. Your eyes darted to the left as you watched your beautiful white mare unexpectedly appear. Taking the rope from the stable boy, Tommy patted the horse down as he lifted her leg, inspecting her hoof. With your hands pressed firmly against the window you watched as the scene played out in silence unable to hear what Tommy was saying to the stable boy. Giving the lead back, Tommy looked up at you as you watched your horse walk into the box, your eyes widening as he pulled out his gun from its holster, pointing it into trailer.

" Tommy no no NO!!" You shouted as you slammed your hands against the window tears cascading down your cheeks. Mere seconds later the sound of one single gun shot resonated through the estate as you grabbed hold of the windowsill, cries leaving your throat as you listened to your horse dying. He had killed her.

" You bastard!" You screamed pounding your hands on the glass as Tommy just stood there looking up at you unbothered by reaction as the sound of a car making its way down the drive gained his attention more than your cries. With your eyes streaming with tears, you watched the truck pulling the trailer drive off as the other car pulled in front of the house.

It was like a movie playing out before your eyes, one scene following the other, his onslaught of torment never ending, and you was the sole spectator, this wall all for you. As Tommy opened the passenger door you watched as an elderly woman with a cane stepped out. She looked thin, struggling to keep her balance as Tommy held her up, helping her out the car. With his arm around her back Tommy looked up at you as you furrowed your brow in confusion. And suddenly it hit you, the frail woman standing below you was your mother, or at least what was left her.

" Mother, mother!" You shouted as you walked along the window following them both as they made their way to the front door. The sound of you banging on the window quickly caught Tommy's attention as he looked up to see your frantic state as you desperately tried to get your mother to notice you. With a smile on his face Tommy pointed ahead of him as your mother nodded her head in response.

" No! no..." you cried with a trembling bottom lip whilst your eyes watched them walk out your view, your body surging with adrenaline at the thought of what Tommy might do. Pacing back and forth in your room, you bit down on your nails, down to the flesh as panic overtook your body when you suddenly heard the door to your bedroom open.

" You fucking bastard!" you said running over to Tommy as you started hitting him repeatedly across his chest with as much force as you could summon.

" Hey stop, fucking stop. If you calm down I'll..." he tried to say as he held you tightly in his arms restricting you from landing anymore blows to his body. But you had no intention of stopping, pushing him off you ran past him and out the bedroom door that he had precariously left open.

"Y/N!" Tommy shouted as you ran down the stairs to the living room where you saw your mother sitting in one of the arm chairs, a cup of tea in her hand as she talked with Frances.

" Mother" you wept as you ran over to her wrapping her in your arms as you knelt down beside her.

" Darling, be careful dear I have a hot cup of tea in my hands" she chuckled as Tommy ran into the room swallowing harshly as he tried to catch his breath.

" Frances out" Tommy said breathless as his eyes darted to where you was.

" Are you ok? Are you hurt? You look..."

" I'm fine dear, calm down. Your husband has been taking good care of me, I've got the best doctors in town, isn't that right Tommy?" She said as your turned around to look at your husband staring down at you, a glint of anger in his eyes as he nodded his head. " I'm more worried about you, look at you dear" Closing your dressing gown tighter around your body, you looked down at yourself, you looked terrible if not worse than her.

" I'm fine, I.. I"

" Maybe you should go back to bed Y/N? You can see your mother another day" Tommy said approaching you, his heavy hand gripping your shoulder as you looked back at your mother, tears welling in your eyes. Not wanted to worsen her frail state anymore you simply nodded as you leaned forward to kiss her cheek. Before you could stand up she placed her hand to your face as she looked in your eyes, a small flicker of concern building within her stare.

" Why are you crying darling?" She said as you wiped away your tears. "Is it because of your horse? She was lame dear, she was suffering" your mother said as she cradled your cheek.

" Lame..." You repeated as Tommy's gripped tightened on your shoulder. Had your mother not been told you had ran away? Something wasn't right, she wasn't acting herself.

" It was a mercy Y/N" Tommy said as he pulled you up, bringing you into his side.

" Get some rest dear, we will see eachother soon" your mother said as you nodded, holding back the tears stinging your eyes. Would you see her again, was this the last time, another mercy? You thought to yourself as Tommy led you out the room his hand firmly placed on the small of your back.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again" Tommy seethed in your ear slamming you against the wall the moment the door closed. "If you do, it will be the last time you ever see daylight, understood?"

" Yes.. Tommy" you nodded as he dragged you back up to the bedroom, back to your prison cell.

Looking out the window into the dark night sky you waited for the inevitable moment your husband would walk back through the bedroom door. Fear and anxiety were consuming you, the past twenty four hours had been the worst of your life. Tommy's relentless campaign of punishment had no signs of ending. He was adamant on making you pay for what you did. Turning around you slammed your hands onto the bed screaming into your pillow as a small release of tension left your body. Wiping the tears away, you stood up walking back over to the window as you looked at your reflection in the glass. Pushing your hair back, you brushed the final tears from your cheeks as you pulled your silk dressing gown back over your shoulder. You watched yourself as you traced your fingers over your collarbone, skimming them down your cleavage as a small smile formed on the corners of your mouth. You may not be able to stop Tommy's continuous torment, but you could get back at him in the only way you knew how, it was time for him to suffer.

An hour later the door to your bedroom opened as your husband walked in. Standing on the opposite side of the bed you slowly approached him as you reached your hands out, brushing them along his chest. Looking down at you Tommy scoffed in response as he pushed past you.

" You don't want me anymore Tommy?" You questioned, a small laugh leaving his lips in response as he shook his head, unwilling to play along.

" Do you remember how it felt?" You mocked, whilst you watched his hands rest on his hips as he turned to face you, his jaw clenching in annoyance . "Isn't this what you want?" you said as you undid the front of your night gown your naked body now on display. Looking over your body, Tommy's lips parted as he slowly drank you in. You was getting to him, it was already working. With a primal urge already building within him, he walked forward to you, trapping you between his body and the wall as his hands came to sit on your waist.

" You want me to fuck you?" He said as he pressed his body firmly against yours, his hand moving up your flesh as he cupped your breast. Pushing his hand away, Tommy grinned playfully in response as he moved his fingers back up your body.

" My way or nothing" you replied pushing him off you for a second time. Grinding his teeth Tommy's hand reluctantly fell to his side without saying another word.

"Is this what you want from me?" you repeated once more as you pulled his shirt out his suit trousers, undoing the button fastening them together. Sliding your hand into his briefs you began stroking him up and down, a moan leaving his lips as he stumbled forward.

" Fuck" he said in response as he licked his bottom lip, looking down at your hand wrapped around his hard length.

" I want to be in you" he moaned pathetically as he placed his hand on the wall behind you to steady himself. Shaking your head you continued to move your hand over his length as Tommy's lips found your neck, kissing up and down your soft flesh as he groaned into your skin. " Fuck, don't stop I'm already close..." he said between moans as you picked up the pace, the increased throbbing in your palm only confirming his imminent release. With his high quickly approaching, you pumped your hand up and down at a speed he could no longer handle, his eyes scrunching shut in response as a groan built in his throat.

"Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum..." As soon as the words left his mouth you removed your hand robbing him of his desperate release, robbing him of the satisfaction he thought he deserved. With a smirk on your face you pushed past him closing your dressing gown around your body, leaving him there as he breathed heavily through his teeth, his hand on the wall forming a fist as frustration boiled under his skin. You had belittled him like he had done with you, played with him like he had with you and you took pleasure in your torment of him like he had done countless times with you. Walking over to the bed you laid down pulling the covers over your body as Tommy slammed his fist into the wall, he's head turning to face you as he clenched his jaw in anger, you had toyed with him and he was furious. Marching towards you, Tommy ripped the covers from your body as he loomed over you, his knees either side of your legs as his hands pinned yours down.

" You're playing a dangerous game Y/N"

" A game you've been playing from day one Tommy" you seethed back, confidence growing in you but not enough to hold back the tears forming in your eyes.

" If you think you can do something like that and get away with it, you haven't been paying attention sweetheart"

" And you think you can do everything you've done to me in the past three months without me ever reacting to it. You're so weak Tommy, look at you, you're desperate for it"

" What? You think I won't take it. I'll take what I want when I want Y/N, you're my wife, it's your duty" he said as he reached his hand down in between your legs. "Are you wet?" He smirked, a laugh leaving his lips as he tried to humiliate you once again. Through gritted teeth you tried to push him off, your efforts futile as the weight of his body continued to hold you down.

" But you won't Tommy, I know you won't" you said as your head hit the pillow breathless, a scoff leaving Tommy's lips in response as his fingers dug further into your wrists.

" Oh yeh, and why's that darling?" He replied grinding his hips on top of your clothed body as he kissed along your jaw.

" Because the Tommy I fell in love with all those years ago is still in there, I know he is" you sobbed, turning your head to face him as you tried to find any humanity left in him. " Where's the sweet boy from Watery Lane Tommy? He would never do something like that"

" Dead" Tommy said, his movements suddenly coming to a stop as he let go of you whilst an unfamiliar look spread across his face. Climbing off the bed Tommy buttoned his trousers back up, tucking his shirt back into the waistband as he walked to the door.

" You will learn to love me again Y/N" he said taking one last look at you as he left the room, locking the door behind him.

Laying back you pulled the covers up to your chin as you turned to the side brushing the tears from your face. Tommy would never let you leave, you were chained to him indefinitely, his parting words only emphasizing his hold on you. If you wanted to survive you would have to do as he said, you would have to learn to love him again.

It was the middle of the night when you awoke to the sudden noise of someone banging on your bedroom door.

" Why is this fucking thing locked, open it!" you heard Johns voice say to whoever was stood next to him as the sound of a key turned on the opposite side of the door.

"Y/N.." he said as he ran to you, his eyes quickly darting around the almost empty room in confusion as he rushed to your side.

" John...what's going on?" You said as you sat up half asleep, your brow scrunched in confusion at John's sudden appearance.

"It's Tommy, he's been shot"

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166 @call-sign-shark @priyajoyy @gypsy-girl-08 @missbeeentertainment @cryptidscool (unable to tag) @warrior-of-justice

[del-thetiredwriter]

Saintess of dragons part 2

Part 1 , part 3

Warnings: major character death,not really dark themes , my bad writing

English is my second language

Gif is not mine

"What are you doing?" Helaena asked . The two of you were sitting outside the training ground. It was one of the rare times you didn't spend your time in your study room. The boys had insisted that you watch them during their sword practice.

"I'm checking my notes" You answered. You've been restless since you saw Laena at the celebrations. She was going to die soon—which she didn't even know about. You had to make a decision until Laena's funeral, a decision you hadn't been able to make for 11 years. You were either going to save everyone and change the future , or you were going to choose the original future, the future where everyone died.

“Why do you always take notes or check your notes?” Helaena asked innocently. You lifted your eyes from your notes and looked at Helaena. You swallowed. "Because I don't want to forget." You answered. You didn't want to forget: your past, your family, your friends, your life 11 years ago.

You looked into Helaena's lilac eyes, innocent but equally frightening eyes, those eyes that seemed to understanding what you were saying.

Helaena was about to ask another question but Aegon and the others came running up to you.

“I won Y/n. I won the fight." said Aegon excitedly. He was looking at you with eyes waiting for you to praise him. Jace sighed, unable to accept his loss. Aemond and Luke were waiting for you to take care of them. You smiled and congratulated Aegon.

“You're just going to congratulate me. As a winner, I deserve an award.” Aegon said .

“A reward? What do you want?” you said.

"to be my wife," said Aegon. Aemond and Helaena waited for your reaction as Jace and Luke objected to Aegon's offer.

“Unfortunately, I must say that this will not be possible, my prince. I don't want marriage or anything like that, neither now nor in the future.”

You thought, 'If I get married, I can't return '.

Aegon seemed to protest, but could not insist any longer. He didn't want to make you angry.

⁎

You're back in your study room. You knew that Aegon loved you, but you didn't think it was enough to propose. You thought, 'It must be because he is still young, it's not serious'.

You looked at the notes on the table. You thought, 'I have to make a decision’. It was like a dream to open your eyes in the series you love 11 years ago. Seeing and talking to your favorite characters live. It looked great at first, because you knew the future, you could change the future and give everyone a happy ending and stop the war.

You tried and you paid the price. The slightest change was causing you to gradually forget your past. You were afraid of forgetting your family, your life, what you knew, so you withdrew. As time passed, you realized that you were not getting old. This scared you even more.

The whole room was covered with charts, notes and paintings you had drawn. Everything was to remember and to return. If it weren't for these paintings and notes, you'd have forgotten your past. You looked at the picture in which you drew a happy moment with your family in your most recent work. You thought, 'Everything will be fine'.

⁎

There were screams. When you looked around, everything was on fire. Kingslanding was on fire. A silhouette was coming towards you through the fires, Laena. She was wearing a blue bloody dress.

“Laena. I- you- why? “You said hesitantly.

Laena just looked at you sadly and smiled.

She said "You could save me but you didn't"

“Laena I-” you swallowed.

"You were afraid. But you are the reason why everything is covered with fire and blood right now,” she said, pointing around.

“You didn't save me, you didn't save them, you couldn't save us. You left us to our fate,” Laena continued.

“Us?” You said

“Yes, us.” Said Laena

Then came the screams from below. Voices of familiar people. Rhaenyra, Helaena, Lucerys… others. They were all bleeding under your feet, begging you, pulling you towards them.

“Laena I-!”

“Make your decision before it's too late! Please,” Laena said. While you're being pulled down.

⁎

“Laena!” You Looked around. You were in your room. It was just a dream, a nightmare. The door knocked .

"Come"

A maid hurried in.

“Forgive me my lady, but I have news”

Your eyes widened with fear when you heard the news. Laena has died .

[gabessquishytum]

So A/B/O, Dream (an omega) is forced into a marriage with Hob (an alpha) for a company merger, and save the Honeymoon where they consummated the marriage, they have a dead bedroom. Dream tries to convince Hob to open up the marriage so Hob can see other people, but they're high socity, so if Hob is seen with other Omegas, the press would have a field day. So they barely speak, and Dream is constantly wollowing in self pity that he's trapped in a marriage to a man he barely knows. It isn't until about 2 months in, Dream relizes he hasn't had his heat in a while and imdeatly takes a test. It's positive. Before Dream can even ask Hob how he feels, Hob goes into protective mode. That's his baby Dream is carrying after all, and there for Dream needs to be protected. Hob makes sure dream has lots of vitamin k, takes walks daily, gets plenty to eat. And Dream can't help but shiver at the way Hob puts a protective arm around Dream anytime the wind changes directions. He spends more time with Hob, willingly, starts talking with him, even flirts. By the time Dream starts showing, Hob and him are all over each other.

Ooo yes!! I definitely think that neither Dream nor Hob would initially react well to a marriage of convenience. Dream is deep down far too romantic to feel comfortable in a marriage to an almost stranger. And Hob is too jaded and cynical at this point to even try.

So they have separate bedrooms, and hardly even see each other because they're both busy working. Dream considers starting an affair behind Hob’s back but it isn't worth the risk, and it's not like it he has a lot of time for that anyway. Plus he's been feeling pretty under the weather...

If Dream assumed that Hob would be annoyed by the news of his pregnancy, he's so wrong. Hob smiles more than Dream has seen, and he quickly hugs Dream and starts scenting him - all stuff that he's never done before. Alpha pheromones are very important for a healthy omega pregnancy and Hob immediately starts rubbing his scent onto Dream’s skin - he's already 8 weeks along so Hob needs to make up for lost time, apparently.

Suddenly Dream is sleeping in Hob’s bed every night, and waking up to breakfast - he's convinced that Hob would feed him 24/7 if he could, he's so insistent that Dream should keep his strength up and not let the pregnancy negatively impact his health. He's not just concerned for the baby, he's really thinking about Dream’s health all the time. Like it matters to him. He won't let Dream do a thing for himself and he spends hours with Dream in his lap, exposing him to those good alpha pheromones.

They talk, first about work and family, then more about themselves. Hob talks about why he was so reluctant to even get to know Dream - he's scared of losing the people he loves, so he shut himself off. But he's over that now. Dream and the baby are more important than his fears or anxieties.

Around the end of the third month, they start fooling around. Making out and heavy petting at first. Dream is having headaches, and feels too gross to have anything inside him. But he loves Hob’s kisses, and the gentle attention to his growing belly and breasts. When the headaches finally go away and Dream feels in the mood again, he and Hob both last approximately 30 seconds before the both cum. They're so pent up (and Hob is knee deep in a pregnancy kink that he never knew that he had).

Everyone who expected the marriage to capitulate gets a big surprise when Dream and Hob throw a party for their 6 months anniversary (which also serves as a kind of baby shower type thing for Dream). Dream spends the whole afternoon regally perched in Hob’s lap being fed the choicest morsels from the buffet while Hob gazes at him like he hung the moon.

Honestly, everyone wishes they'd go back to barely speaking. The PDA is getting out of hand! Thank goodness Dream is already pregnant because the way Hob looks at him now? He'd be knocked up all over again.

[thehaemanthus]

of two hearts one heart make we

It is the right of Rhysand, consort to the New Queen Amarantha, to take all Omegas in the land as his. Feyre, even at the altar, cannot escape this fate. Nor, it seems, can her sisters. Part 1 of 2. Feysand, with Rhysand/Nesta and Rhysand/Elain. Dubious consent, A/B/O, voyeurism, AU. Dead dove I don't wanna see none of y'all making noise about "eww, Rhys and Nesta"

yeah yeah yeah, the week is over, I'm agonizing over this and it's not done. But here's a part one for @acotar-omegaverse-week

I'm too scared to post this on AO3 that's how you know this is insane and the premise is weak. But, unfortunately, I wrote it and I think it's hot

Title from "The Heart that Loveth Me", which I'm not even sure is a real poem because the only place I can find it is a blog?

It was quite a leap to go from orphan girl on the fringe of society to Lady of the land, and if all went well today Feyre would be successful in taking that step. 

Already, the days had seemed like a dream. From the moment the Lord spied her washing off in a stream— a faerie come to tempt him— to the quick proposal of marriage to her wedding day. But Lord Tamlin knew what he wanted, and who was she to question him? He got a wife, she received a belly full of food, a warm bed for her and her sisters, and a decent man. Feyre was uncommonly lucky. 

Handmaidens brushed her hair and dabbed scented oil on her skin. Nesta and Elain watched, sitting at the other end of the room. The dark wood and gray stone showed its age, and the room smelled smoky from the centuries of fires made in its great hearth. The crackle of the fire and the scrape of the brush through Feyre’s hair were the only sounds in the room. Elsewhere, the chapel attached to the palace was filling with noble guests. 

“What if he shows up?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth. Her eyes met Nesta’s in the looking glass.

“He won’t,” a matronly woman said. She was here to supervise the handmaidens. “This is a joyous day, child.” 

Nesta wasn’t as convinced. “How many guards in this palace?” 

“Many,” the matron nearly snaps Nesta’s nose off. “Four shall be assigned to the bride. Two each for you and your sister.” 

If he did show up, that might not be enough. No one states the obvious. 

It’s not long before she stands at the door to the room, wary of sitting should something be knocked askew. Feyre has never seen anyone wear this much cream and gold. How many bellies could be fed with the silver it took to pay for such a gown that glows in the sunlight? The wildflowers in her hair, in contrast, were plucked by her own sisters in the fields outside the wall.

Outside. Feyre is glad to be marrying Tamlin, for she will no longer have to go outside to hunt and scavenge. She will no longer be allowed to romp through the mud and bathe in streams. Really, she would be surprised if she were allowed to leave the confines of the palace. 

“This is a bad idea.”

“Nesta!” It’s only the three sisters and a chambermaid in the room, but Elain still glances around like the groom himself will step out of the shadows. 

Their oldest sister crosses her arms. “You don’t know for sure that he will continue to let you take the necessary precautions. You place too much trust in a man you don’t know well enough. Worse, you endanger our lives.”

Elain shakes her head. “Feyre is saving our lives—”

“If we stay in this household,” Nesta barrels forward. “Even if we are given a holding of our own, there will be servants. It is too hard to keep this quiet when you are never alone, Feyre!”

“Why should you keep it quiet?” She fiddles with the posy in her hands. “Do you not think my husband can protect all of us?”

Nesta sneers. “No, I do not, and neither do you!”

Feyre does not get a chance to respond. A knock followed by the door swinging open signals the end of their time together. A page boy nods shallowly. “Please follow me.”

There is no one to walk Feyre down the aisle. Once, she had a wealthy father and a mother that was so desired, her dowry included enough silver and jewels to make a queen envious. Feyre and her sisters were the prettiest pieces in their mother’s collection, until of course the wealth was squandered. Then, all they became were potential victims. But Feyre didn’t get her sisters this far to give up now. Marriage to Tamlin, who knows her nature, is safe. This is the station she had always been meant for. 

It doesn't mean she had to like it. 

The chapel is filled with incense and unfamiliar faces. Tapestries dangle on the stone walls, giving some life to the dim room. Outside is Feyre’s old life, all muddy streets and thatched roofs and backbreaking work and secrets. Here, here is her future as a wealthy, kept woman. 

Feyre makes it to the end of the aisle, smiling shyly at Tamlin. She barely knows this lord, but he’s been kind and respectful. A life with him will be blessed. Her sisters followed her down the aisle, but now shift to the side. The priest smiles. His silly hat looks sillier because he acts so serious. 

“Honored guests, thank you for joining us for this most auspicious union—”

The sound of boots on stone echoes through the chapel. Feyre turns, and her stomach sinks. The figure that emerges from the shadows is tall and broad, a dark spot in the light chapel with garlands of white flowers. 

“I have an objection.” She’s never seen this man before in her life, but there’s only one person he could be. “That, right there, is an Omega female. The laws of this land state all Omegas are to be presented before me. Why wasn’t she?” 

“Leave,” Tamlin snarls. “You cannot steal my bride—“

“I could steal her if she was wed, bed, and with child.” The man stalks down the aisle. “I am the lord of these lands.”

Tamlin releases of her hands and rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. “No, I am—“

“You are a vassal,” the man says, stopping in front of them. He is dressed in black. His boots are nearly spotless, impressive considering he would have had to ride to get here. The great black cloak over his tunic and leather jerkin adds to his already imposing size. “Your father lost these lands, and you sit here in your decaying splendor because I allow it.” 

Feyre freezes as those violet eyes turn to her. The world is crashing down around her, but there is only silence beyond the roaring in her ears. 

“Your name, lady,” he mocks her. It is not an Alpha order, not yet. But there is enough iron in his words to make her confidence quake. 

Her mouth is dry, and her voice is soft when she says, “I don’t belong to you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles, but it’s not a kind one. “But every Omega in the lands I control has the potential to.” He circles her, and Feyre tries to follow him with her gaze. Then he reaches out, one arm wrapped around her waist as his hand grips her jaw. His chest pressed against her back, and he must be hunched over because she feels smothered. 

Feyre shudders as he breathes her in. “She smells delicious Tamlin, here take a sniff— ah, I forgot. You can’t.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Maybe it all has been a dream so far, because this surely cannot be real. She would not believe it was real, save for the iron grip, the hard body pressed against hers, and the unmistakable smell of an Alpha. Something in her begins to scream and sigh. 

Her eyes snap open as he hauls her backward. “I might have been lenient if you informed me and notified me of your intentions to wed the Omega. Especially because she has sisters.”

From nowhere, other men dressed in black flood the chapel. Guests, previously frozen, panic and scramble like ants in a disturbed anthill. 

Feyre’s knees nearly give out as two men zero in on her sisters. Nesta begins to fight, which reminds her that she should, too. Clearly, her captor didn’t expect it. She wretches one arm free, and in the commotion finds another hand. 

The startling red hair and distinctive eyepatch identifies Tamlin’s seneschal, Lucien. He yanks, but it’s not enough. She feels like a toy between the two men, crying out in pain until she’s twisted, a hand in her hair forcing her to look at Tamlin. His face is pale, fury making his tense jaw twitch. The crown of flowers lies on the ground, trampled. 

“Fight me if you want, Tamlin.” This monster doesn’t even sound winded. Feyre wilts. “You know the consequences.”

Somehow, Lucien keeps a grip on her wrist. It tightens. If they coordinate, they can work together to get her away—

“Go,” Tamlin’s lip curls. “I cannot stop you from being a monster. So be it.”

Lucien snarls. “Tamlin, you cannot—”

“Let her go, Lucien.” Feyre’s husband-to-be turns his back. “One woman, or a war we cannot win. Were I not a leader burdened with these decisions…”

The man behind her snorts quietly, but Feyre hears it. It shocks her from her surprise. “Tamlin?” Surely he cannot mean that. He was going to marry her. His flowery words— she can’t remember all of them, but did they not amount to some type of love? 

“Expect to see one of my representatives soon,” the man behind her says. “You broke the law, Tamlin.”

Feyre does not see anything but the back of her beloved. Even as they leave the room, even as she is carried from the palace, his hunched shoulders are imprinted in her mind. The sight is stronger when they place a blindfold over her eyes. 

Elain sniffles somewhere next to her. Nesta is quiet, and Feyre is glad. Her eldest sister has the right to say “I told you so”. 

With a marriage to a local lord, Feyre was supposed to secure safety and security for her and her Omega sisters. But the opposite, it seems, has happened. For everyone knows that to be an Omega captured by Rhysand, consort of the New Queen Amarantha, is to be lost forever. 

—

The day Feyre showed the first signs of presenting was the happiest of her life. 

She was young, only nine, but a nursemaid caught a scent of something. A physician was quickly called, and the diagnosis was confirmed. Feyre Archeron was the third Omega daughter born to her Alpha parents, nearly unheard of. 

Her mother brought Feyre and her sisters to her chambers. She sat, gazing at her daughters with what Feyre thought was pride. It was simple avarice. But when she was nine and had missed the affection of a mother for so long, any look sent her way was treasured. 

“My girls,” her mother had cooed. “We shall find rich, powerful husbands for you. Only Alphas. You will be the wives of kings and princes, mark my words.” 

For a woman who, due to common blood, failed to rise higher than a wealthy merchant, blue blood for her daughters would be the fulfillment of her own dream. Feyre followed the instructions of her mother and the example of her sisters. Dread wound its way around her like ivy, growing to constrict Feyre more with each passing year. 

It fell apart rather quickly. Mother died. Father, lost in his grief, lost their money in the tumult of the New Queen’s conquest. Father died. They had no money, just a maid who left them with some final parting advice. 

Being a penniless Omega is not a blessing in this world. A whorehouse, a vessel to be used by Alpha soldiers with an itch to scratch. Or a slave in some distant household. The possibilities run through Feyre’s mind as she stands, shivering with fear. They sat in the cart long enough for the chill of night to fall and for her ass to fall asleep. 

She thought they might be inside a tent. It was marginally warmer, and there was no breeze. Steps near her make her flinch a moment before the blindfold rips away. She squints, seeing her sisters on either side of her.

“Lord Tamlin broke the laws of this land when he failed to report three Omegas living in his territory.” Through her lashes and the pieces of hair falling in her face, Feyre sees Rhysand. He is the consort of the New Queen, but no one has ever called him king or prince. He is simply Rhysand, the sword that the New Queen wields. Feyre does not know where he came from, only that he is known for his violence, his dominance as an Alpha, and for rounding up Omegas. 

He studies them now, satisfaction poorly concealed on his face. Hate rises in Feyre’s belly. Hate is easier than fear.

“I am impressed you managed to hide for this long.” His gaze roves over all of them. Feyre fights the urge to squirm. Already, the large tent fills with his scent. Alpha. Protector. Powerful. Dangerous, her mind tries to say. Perfect, her nose tells her. 

One moment she is lost in the haze, and in the next a sharp point of a knife digs into her throat. Feyre struggles for only a second before freezing.

Nesta’s bound hands grip the knife. Her arms wrap around Feyre from the back, but it’s the point of the knife against her skin that keeps Feyre still.

“You will not have us.” Her sister’s voice shakes with rage, and maybe fear. 

Her sister. Nesta has a knife— hid it away somehow? Now she is poised to kill Feyre. Across the small space, Rhysand is on his feet, eyes narrowed.

“Nesta?” Elain whimpers.

“I won’t allow you to touch my sisters,” Nesta says, voice rough with fury. The knife digs a little deeper. 

Feyre’s breathing picks up. Nesta will kill her. Nesta is going to hurt her—

Rhysand’s powerful voice does not increase in volume, but Feyre feels her mind drawn to him anyway. “Put the knife down.” Something has changed in his tone. It is an order.

Nesta falters a bit before recovering.

“What do you think will happen?” Rhysand prowls forward, honey in his voice. The blast of his Alpha’s power floods the small space. “You will try to kill your sister. I will strike as you do, removing the weapon from your hands. Then you are weaponless. As the youngest of you lies bleeding, I will call for my healers. Do you know how to kill, little warrior? Have you slaughtered the sheep for feasts or broken the neck of birds? Stand down, Omega.” 

Nesta inhales sharply. Feyre can feel the tremor run through her. The tip of the knife scrapes Feyre’s neck. Her sister screeches, and then Nesta is gone.

The relief and shock brings Feyre to her knees. She inhales as if she’d been strangled. Behind her, Nesta shouts abuses. Feyre glances over her shoulder, where two large men restrain her oldest sister and wrestle the knife away. 

“It was a noble attempt,” Rhysand says, turning his back and sitting down. “Now, let me tell you what is about to happen.”

Elain shuffles towards Feyre. The silence as her sister helps her to her feet feels like mockery. When they are all standing, and in Nesta’s case restrained, Rhysand speaks. “We ride for the nearest monastery, where you will be kept with other Omegas in my care. You will not complain, you will not try to run. Am I clear?”

What else is there to do but glare? Even Elain does not speak or nod. 

Rhysand continues, unfazed. “You are my Omegas now. I will take certain steps to maintain your wellbeing, which means I need information. When were your last heats?”

A blush blooms on Feyre’s skin, so deep she must be radiating warmth. Elain makes a small noise, looking down at her feet. These are not things one talks about, certainly not with a male stranger. The silence stretches. 

“Answer me.” The honey is back in Rhysand’s voice, laced with iron. “How long ago was your last heat? Is one approaching?”

Feyre wishes she had an answer for him. Embarrassment starts to be eclipsed by fear. The words wait on her tongue. If she opens her mouth and tells him, this Alpha will approve of her. She should want his approval. 

“How did you conceal yourselves?” A new voice says, one of the men holding Nesta. His voice is smokey, and his eyes are narrowed. Their silence gives him room to speak. “Was it Widow’s Milkweed?”

Something gives them away. Maybe it’s the way Elain’s eyes turn especially doe-ish when she lies, maybe it’s the slight twitch from Feyre, maybe it’s the way Nesta puffs up at any criticism— but now they know.

The other man holding Nesta hisses. “Fuck.”

“Indeed.” The honey is gone from Rhysand’s voice. “When was your last dose?”

Again, they are silent. They do not have that luxury for long. Faster than Feyre can process, Rhysand hauls her close with one hand fisted in the neckline of her gown. Elain cries out, clawing at Feyre with bound hands. 

Up close, his violet eyes are mesmerizing and terrifying. “Your sister was ready to kill you to spare you the fate of becoming an Omega plaything. Do not spit on that attempt. If you value yourself at all, tell me when you took the last dose of Widow’s Milkweed.”

The words spill from her mouth. “Four days ago.” Feyre’s voice does not shake, but it is soft. Four days ago, she was supposed to have taken the last sip of tea that would subdue her heats. Tamlin wasn’t an Alpha, but Betas could see Omegas through heats, too. That’s what he told her. 

Rhysand releases her, stalking away. He is a dangerous predator, pacing in the enclosed space. “And you two?”

Elain and Nesta exchange looks, but it’s Elain who speaks. “Tamlin moved us into his household at the same time as Feyre. He didn’t want us taking Widow’s Milkweed. We had planned to take a dose right after the wedding—”

Rhysand slashes his hand through the air, silencing Elain. 

“Rhys—”

“I know, Azriel.” The expression on his face chills Feyre like nothing else has. Rhysand is in charge here. He is the monster. An Alpha in control should never look this unsteady.

“Widow’s Milkweed is incredibly dangerous,” he says. “By tomorrow…maybe sooner, your scents will change and you’ll be shedding pheromones like leaves in autumn. All of my Alpha soldiers will converge on you like a pack of dogs. There is no telling when your heats will develop.” 

“You said there was a monastery.” Monasteries were populated exclusively by Betas and the Omegas they sheltered. They were centers of healing, spirituality, and knowledge. Isolated and hard to reach, they were purposefully built to keep Alphas at bay. 

But Rhysand dashes Feyre’s hopes. “The closest is a week’s ride.”

“Our holding is closer.” The larger man who holds Nesta suggests. 

“Still too far,” Rhysand says. The silence in the tent gives Feyre nothing to do but think. Maybe he’ll decide the effort is not worth it and throw them to his men. A shiver goes through her. 

Finally, he speaks. “You will allow me to scent mark all of you.”

The other men in the room seem shocked, but Rhysand speaks before they can. “You will remain maids, but I cannot claim your virtue will be intact. It will happen here, tonight. One least one of my men will be present to oversee the proceedings and ensure things don’t…get out of hand.”

“What—” Elain’s voice cracks. “What does scent marking mean?”

The men exchange a look. The one with a smokey voice, Azriel, shakes his head. “Save us from mothers and their misguided attempts to shelter their daughters.”

“Do you know what happens between an Alpha and Omega in the mating bed?” Rhysand asks. 

Feyre blushes. She is familiar with how farmyard animals act, but not people. Her knowledge amounts to something like she would feel strange, desire her alpha’s touch, and that her alpha would guide her through these desires. At the end of a few days, she would come out of her heat. In three season’s time, if she was lucky, there would be a baby. 

To her surprise, it’s Nesta who answers. “The alpha repeatedly gives the omega their seed, which results in a child.” 

The embarrassed silence reigns before the larger man clears his throat. “Well, that’s not wrong.” 

“The mixture of seed and slick produces its own powerful note in your usual scent, subtle but detectable,” Rhysand explains. “It’s not the same as the scent of a mated couple, but it does send a signal.”

The man leans forward. “You want to claim all three of them as yours?”

“Don’t,” Rhysand snaps. “They must all be mine, Cassian. If I hand the Omegas out like gifts, there will be fighting. We cannot afford discord.”

“It does add to his reputation,” Azriel says. “It’s not a bad idea, strategically.”

“We are not objects to be dealt with!” Nesta snaps. “You cannot claim all of us, the natural order of things will not allow it—”

“I make no claim,” Rhysand says. 

“How?” Feyre finds her voice. “I still don't understand. We have…slick, and you have seed. How do you combine these?” 

“He wants to lay with us,” Nesta spats.

Elain blanches. “You said we will be maids.”

Something about this must be amusing, because the men trade looks. That, of all things, finally makes Feyre snap. “No. We’ll…we can hide away somewhere.”

“On these plains, at this time of year, with these winds?” Rhysand jerks his head outside. “An Alpha will catch a scent within hours. This is not a debate.” His voice changes, and the words become commands. “You will bathe, change, and allow me to scent mark you. You will not fight and you will not argue.”

Inside, Feyre screeches. On the outside, she is silent. Her body relaxes, given directions by an Alpha. 

Definite chance of survival at the expense of laying with a monster, or hiding and hoping they are not found and raped or captured by someone else? 

If Rhysand had given them the choice, Feyre cannot say what she would have done. 

A bell should toll or a fierce wind should blow through the plains, a supernatural signal that a fate has been sealed. But it is quiet and still, the crackling of the one brazier in the tent undisturbed. 

Things move quickly after that. Rhysand’s men, Azriel and Cassian, hustle them to another larger tent. They do not speak, not to give orders or to taunt. Their tense faces and the looks they exchange do enough to silence the sisters. Feyre glances at the low bed covered in furs and the rugs on the floor, the flagon of wine and too many lit candles to waste all at once, before she dips behind a changing screen. They bathe with a pot of hot water and a cake of soap. 

“Change into these,” a gruff voice says from the other side of the screen. A moment later, a bundle of cream fabric flips over the top of the changing screen. As soon as Feyre takes one of the shirts, she knows they belong to Rhysand. The heady scent of Alpha drips from them, along with a clean scent of soap. 

For as long as Feyre has been a mature Omega, she has taken Widow’s Milkweed to suppress heats and keep her Omega scent dormant. That didn’t mean she was immune to Alphas. Their commands and their scent, their presence made her want to lay on her back or stick her nose into their necks to take in more. Sometimes the scent told her this was an Alpha that would wrap her in their arms, sometimes the scent told her to open her legs. Rhysand’s scent did everything, said everything that made her Omega soul sing. 

Was this why everyone said Rhysand was the most powerful Alpha in the land? That couldn’t be— Amarantha, the New Queen, was the real power. 

Feyre’s hands shook as she tugged the shirt on. It hung to her knees, and the neck was so large it nearly fell off of her shoulders. Beside her, Nesta and Elain did the same. Nesta’s movements were furious, while Elain’s were careful and purposeful. They were scared. They were all scared and showing it in different ways. But they could not disobey an order.

Nesta took her hand, the other gripping Elain, and dragged them out. “I will go first,” her sister declared. She pushed them to the low cushions and rug. “Sit.”

“Pushy, for an Omega,” Rhysand commented. Feyre jumped. How could she have forgotten he was there, playing with a glass of wine as he sat at the table with his men. 

Nesta does not respond, merely walks to the bed and sits on the edge. 

“Lay on your side,” Rhysand says. He begins to disrobe, and Feyre glances down to her hands. The sound of fabric shifting and dropping seems especially loud.

Nesta, stiff as a plank, lays on her side facing her sisters. Feyre is grateful she does not try to meet their gaze. She does not know if she would be able to keep it. Instead, Nesta stares somewhere above their heads.

Rhysand, clad only in a shirt, lays behind her. Nesta quivers, and Feyre has to look away again.

She cannot stop her ears from hearing, though. 

“The more you relax, the quicker this will be,” Rhysand says. Then it is quiet, save for the crackle of fire, the sound of breathing, and the rasp of skin on fabric. 

It might be a minute later than Nesta gasps. Feyre’s eyes widen, but she keeps them pinned down. Another moment, and a strange noise leaves her sister’s mouth. Feyre’s eyes look without her mind ordering them too. 

One of Rhysand’s arms curls beneath Nesta’s neck so that his hand can caress her breast under the shirt. The other hand traces slow circles low on Nesta’s stomach. Her sister has color high in her cheeks, eyes so wide they seem a little shocked. Her lip is caught between her teeth, though small sounds still escape. She grips the bedding under her like it is her salvation. 

Feyre watches the hand on her sister’s breast as the shirt slips. She’s seen her sisters nude— they are sisters and they have been poor more than they have been wealthy which amounts to little privacy. But not like this, as a man enjoys in her flesh. Rhysand’s fingers, dark against Nesta’s milk-white skin, pinch a pink nipple and Nesta jerks. 

“Shh, Omega,” Rhysand’s honey voice is back. A yawning ache opens in Feyre. “Relax.”

The hand on her stomach dips lower, under the hem of the shirt and then back up. Nesta makes a shocked sound, squirming. The hand on her breast turns restraining, and then Rhysand groans. 

A flood of heat washes through Feyre. She should look away again, but she cannot. 

“Hush,” Rhysand murmurs again. “Lift your leg, put it over mine— there. Good.” 

Feyre lists forward, yearning for his praise. Then she snaps out of it, taking a deep breath and looking away for a moment. She should not be feeling…any of this. But her eyes draw back to the scene in front of her anyway. 

The shirt blocks the view of what’s happening, but Feyre can tell Rhysand’s hand is moving between Nesta’s legs. Her sister starts to breathe rapidly, little strange gasps and mewls escaping her lips. Her eyes are still open and shocked, staring at the wall of the tent like she cannot believe what is happening to her. 

Feyre jumps when Nesta cries out, harsh and loud. Her body arches, toes curling. 

“That’s it.” Strain coats Rhysand’s voice. 

Nesta turns her face into the bedding, but she can’t muffle the little cries. Feyre shifts in her seat, eyes wide and breathing shallow. Is that what it is like to lie with a man? 

She thinks it is done, but is not prepared for Rhysand’s movements. The hand under Nesta’s shirt extricates itself. He fumbles with something between them before gripping the thigh Nesta has thrown over his own leg. Then he starts to move. 

The sound of something wet had been in the tent before, but now it is louder. Everything seems louder and harsher, from the pitiful cries of her sister to the grunting from Rhysand to the wet slap of skin. Feyre can see where Rhysand’s fingers dig into Nesta’s skin. Over Nesta’s shoulder, his eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed as if in pain. 

Then those violet eyes snap open. They lock on Feyre, and she can’t look away. She can’t look away as the man ruts into her sister like an animal. Her freedom comes when he bows his head forward. He jerks violently a handful of times before stilling. 

The quiet is awkward. Feyre’s breathing is too loud. She only becomes more uncomfortable when Rhysand dips his hand back between Nesta’s legs. It works there for a moment, drawing a hiss from Nesta, before roaming all over her body. 

The slick and the seed. That must be what it is, and now he spreads the scent on Nesta’s glands. Feyre shudders and is finally able to look away. Her hands shake a bit in her lap, and there’s a yawning feeling in her gut. Why does she want to cry?

“Stay here for a while,” Rhysand’s voice breaks the silence. “It takes a moment to come down.”

The words are not meant for her, but the reassuring Alpha brings Feyre back to equilibrium. This is a strong Alpha, and she shouldn’t feel so distressed in his presence. Even if he is ignoring her— 

“I am next,” Elain declares. The flash of anger and panic is enough to silence Feyre, though she doesn’t know what she would say if she could. Elain just squeezes Feyre’s hand and stands. She is numb as she watches her sisters switch places, as Nesta stumbles behind the changing screen with instructions to clean up a bit but not wipe away the evidence of what just happened. The scent needs to set in. 

Elain asks to face away from her sisters. Rhysand obliges. He too disappears behind the changing screen before laying behind Elain. Again, Feyre tries to look away. Again, she is unable to. Though covered by a long shirt, she is mesmerized by the play of the muscles in his back. Rhysand treats Elain the same he did with Nesta, slow caresses graduating to his hand between her legs. Elain’s slender leg trembles where it’s thrown over Rhysand, the only visible part of her sister. The rest is concealed by Rhysand’s bulk. From this view, Feyre can see how his body flexes. She stares at the way Elain’s bare leg rubs against Rhysand’s and wonders what it would be like, how the hairs on his legs would tickle her and how it would feel to touch that much coiled power. 

Then Elain crests with loud moans. Again, Rhysand grips her and starts moving. His shirt rides up, giving Feyre a few of his backside and something between his legs. His grunts are louder this time as he drives into Elain, as are Elain’s own whimpers. Soon, Rhysand slams his hips violently into Elain before stilling. Again, Feyre watches as he touches one of her sisters as she mewls. 

No one says anything for a while. Where Nesta was eager to stand as soon as she could, Elain seems frozen in place. 

“Azriel,” Rhysand says. His rough voice scrapes Feyre. “Help her up.”

There is no hesitation in Azriel’s movement as he assists Elain in standing and guides her to the changing screen, touching her no more than he has to. 

On the bed, Rhys rolls onto his back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I might need a minute.”

That’s fine. Feyre isn’t sure she could stand if she wanted to, right now. After a minute of rustling fabric and the splash of water, Elain emerges. Head down, she scuttles to Feyre and Nesta and plants herself next to them. Elain settles, quickly squeezing Feyre’s shoulder before turning her face into Nesta’s shoulder.

Rhys rises from the bed and disappears behind the changing screen. 

“We did it, you can too.” Nesta prods her into movement. Slowly, Feyre stands and walks to the edge of the bed. There are wet spots staining the bedding, and the mixture of smells makes her stomach churn. There’s the familiarity of her sisters. It’s their scent, but somehow different. Those scents are mixed with the heady scent of her Alpha—

No. Of Rhysand. He might be an Alpha, but she would not give him that much power over her. 

“Are you ready?”

While she was staring at the bedding, Rhysand came to her side. She nearly jumps. Did he somehow get taller? She thought that, stripped of layers of clothing, he might seem a bit smaller and less intimidating. But he still looks like he could snap her in half. 

Feyre swallows roughly. “I want to be facing you.” She cannot say why she needs to, only that she does. Her sisters faced away, as if anyone could have been laying behind them. Feyre wants to face Rhysand and know. 

He studies her for a moment. “As you wish.” Then he whips the thick blanket off the top of the bed, tossing it carelessly on the floor. That’s all the invitation she’ll get. 

When Feyre climbs into the bed, it smells only of cleanliness and a bit of Rhysand. When he crawls in next to her, the scent increases. A fire ignites in Feyre’s belly. She is surprised the entire bed is not shaking, because she has never felt so unsteady as she clumsily rolls onto her side. 

“Hush,” Rhysand says. “Deep breath.” 

There is no question of following his orders. Here is her Alpha, the one to lead her through these strange feelings and soothe her discomfort. His face is all she can see, his scent all she smells. His hand swallows her thigh as he brings it over his hip. Feyre breaths so rapidly she feels lightheaded.

The hand on her thigh trails up. Ferye shivers as he grazes the skin of her inner thigh. And then he touches her. Pleasure shoots through her, something in her core squeezes and aches. Her hand shoots out to clutch at Rhysand’s shoulder. She needs to rip the shirt away and feel skin.

Rhysand’s hand freezes. They stare at each other, both a little shocked. Feyre should not be touching him like this. But why not? 

Rhysand hauls her closer, so close they breathe into each other’s mouths. The calluses of his hand rasp against her thigh as he drags his fingers back down her thigh, then up again, caressing her before trailing up, up, between her legs. Feyre shudders and gasps. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees Rhysand lean in, eyes locked on her mouth.

One thick finger traces the seam between her legs, sensitive and nearly ticklish. Her eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed by every sensation. But Rhysand’s penetrating violet gaze holds her. She is his prisoner. 

Feyre should be more upset about that, but she is not. She is an Omega in an Alpha’s bed, and there is nothing more right. 

Rhysand’s hand applies more pressure, dipping into her wet heat. Feyre digs her nails into his shoulder, bucking a bit.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, nose brushing hers. “Relax, Omega.”

Then his fingers move, and oh. Feyre would squirm out of his grasp if not for the grip he keeps on her. She does not feel embarrassed by the sounds his fingers make in her slick, nor the way she bucks, nor the audience. She is not aware of anything more than the pleasure her Alpha gives her, the way he smells, the sweet encouragement he offers her. His words fall from his mouth into hers. 

“You were made for this.” His voice is strained. “Made for an Alpha—”

“Yes,” Feyre moans. How can she disagree?

The fingers circling the sensitive spot between her thighs pick up their speed. Unintelligible noises leave Feyre’s lips. She needs— she needs something more. The gland on her neck itches, and unthinkingly she contorts to present her neck. 

She wants the bite there, but Rhysand growls and nips her jaw instead. Feyre cries in dismay, cut off by his lips covering hers. 

If his scent was delicious, the taste of this man is even better. Pleasure bursts in Feyre, but her cry is muffled by Rhysand’s mouth. She squirms, overwhelmed and satisfied but still needing more. She is so empty. He pets her a bit more before his hand is gone, followed by his mouth. 

“No,” she whines.

“Quiet,” Rhysand snaps. He’s looking down, fumbling with his shirt. Sweat gleams on his furrowed brow. Feyre only sees a glimpse of his manhood before he tugs her close. Something hot and thick slips between her legs, easily sliding in the slick that trails down Feyre’s thighs. A surprised gasp leaves her lips. 

Rhysand bares his teeth, holding her close with one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other hand digging into her ass. Somehow, she ends up with her face pressed into his neck. Then he moves. Hot skin slides against hers. Rhysand’s thick manhood rubs the sensitive flesh between her legs. His hand was pleasurable, but this is sinful. 

Feyre tightens her leg around Rhysand. She needs to be closer. She needs this Alpha to soothe the fire in her, pin her down, fill her with seed and children—

She wants to be his, and make sure the world knows she is kept by him. He does not have a mating gland like she does, but that does not stop her from biting the tendon on his neck. 

Rhysand growls and the world spins. Feyre finds herself on her back, smothered by a man who might weigh as much as two of her. She can barely breath, and when she can all she smells is slick and seed, Rhysand and Feyre. 

Heavy hips slam into hers as Rhysand continues to drive himself through Feyre. She hiccups between cries, face wet with overwhelmed tears. This is not enough. He surrounds her, but he needs to be in her and cure her of the loss Feyre never knew she carried inside. 

Then he rears up. Feyre whimpers at the loss of connection, the sudden cold that intrudes in all the heat. Rhysand looks between her legs, using one hand to wrench her leg up and open. Feyre’s shirt has ridden up to under her breasts, displaying her to his gaze. She watches, mesmerized, as Rhysand takes himself in hand and pumps, gaze locked between Feyre’s legs. His manhood is dark, lined with veins until it bulges at the base, his knot. 

He grunts, continuing to stroke himself as his manhood spits something white— his seed— onto Feyre. She jerks in surprise, only able to watch as the seed splatters the place in between her legs and her lower stomach. 

Her breathing sounds too loud in her ears. She wants to reach out and pull Rhysand back down, let him smother her. This Alpha marked her, but did not claim her. It’s not right. She must have done something incorrectly—

“Good girl,” Rhysand rasps. The hand that was holding her leg open relaxes its grip, stroking. It soothes the anxious part of Feyre. “You did well, Omega.” 

She nods, hissing as Rhysand dips his fingers back between her legs. She bucks as he rubs, mixing slick and seed. Those fingers should dip inside her, that seed belongs in her womb—

“Almost done,” he murmurs, reaching up to paint the mixture on her mating gland. “You’ve been a good girl, just stay still for a little longer.”

It is not an order, but Feyre melts into the bed anyway. She would do anything for his approval. 

Too soon, he tugs her shirt back down over her thighs and stands from the bed. The world comes rushing back in. 

“Rhysand,” Cassian says, an Alpha rumble under lacing his unhappy tone. Fear rockets through Feyre. It is dangerous to be surrounded by unhappy Alphas. 

Rhysand raises a hand. “Later. Get them seen to first.”

“He’s right,” Azriel murmurs. As he did for Elain, he helps Feyre up from the bed. She allows him to, acting as she thinks she ought to but not as she wants to. She gets clean, follows Rhysand’s men to another tent with three simple bed rolls, nods at instructions not to bathe until the morning to let the scent set in.

The night is dark, but cannot shelter them from the crackle of fires outside nor the quiet conversations of men. Inside their small tent, the noise from outside is enough to provide a buffer as the sisters slip into bed, silent. Feyre cannot even meet their eyes.

She does not know what Elain or Nesta might be feeling. She hopes it isn’t a burning desire to jump back into Rhysand’s bed. She hopes they don’t feel like they are being torn apart inside from lust and shame. 

[soulessjourney]

We Go Down Together (Part 1)

Paring: Rhysand x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Many believe that everyone is destined for love, but what if that assumption wasn't always accurate? Love should be perceived more as a weapon than a certainty. We're often fed tales of knights saving princesses and their ensuing romance. But what if this narrative were misguided? What if the story revolved around a villain who fought desperately against falling in love with the king, knowing that their love would unleash catastrophic consequences upon the world?

Warnings: Mentions of violence and death

Many believe that everyone is destined for love, but what if that assumption wasn't always accurate? Love should be perceived more as a weapon than a certainty. We're often fed tales of knights saving princesses and their ensuing romance. But what if this narrative were misguided? What if the story revolved around a villain who fought desperately against falling in love with the king, knowing that their love would unleash catastrophic consequences upon the world?

This notion might elicit laughter. Parents would likely alter the story, introducing a new character to better conform to the traditional roles. Villains, conventionally, aren't permitted to experience love; they're destined to endure perpetual solitude and suffering. After all, their purpose seems to be inflicting pain and leaving others to suffer, isn't it? Perhaps it's time to reconsider this way of thinking.

You weren’t entirely sure where things went wrong in your life. It could have been when your father initiated an all-out war with the rest of Prythian, or when you were born as the daughter of Hybern. Your childhood was no easy task, as your father insisted that you follow in his footsteps—a path you neither liked nor agreed with. He was many things, but a truly heartless man was one of them. Concern for your well-being never seemed to exist; his sole preoccupation lay in ensuring that you, his only heir, carried on his legacy. Your mother had fled from your father when you were young, but you suspected she might have met an untimely end.

Standing in front of the mirror, you smoothed your hands over your dress, releasing a shaky sigh. While working alongside Tamlin’s father, he had arranged a marriage between the two of you for political reasons. To him, you were merely a pawn in his political machinations. The dress, by your standards, was hideous. The gold accents clashed against the white fabric, and the shoulder piece made you cringe. Your hair was twisted into a low bun, saved only by a flower hairpin securing it in place. A soft knock interrupted your thoughts, and the door creaked open, revealing Tamlin dressed in a suit echoing the theme of your attire.

“You look beautiful,” he uttered softly, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Tamlin appeared worn out and as weary as you felt. He had pleaded with your father to reconsider the wedding, his heart belonging to another. And you? You had surrendered to your father's will the moment he threatened to strip away any remaining shreds of your freedom.

“Don’t lie. We both know these outfits are a fashion disaster,” you remarked, forcing a smile that failed to reach your eyes. Tamlin, like you, was trapped in the political game, suffering just as you were. He had endured much, compelled to abide by his father’s decisions, much like you.

Chuckling, he stepped closer, adjusting his clothing. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can still find a way to get you out,” he proposed. The idea had been suggested multiple times, but you knew that if you attempted to escape, your father would unleash Amerantha to hunt you down like a dog. Tamlin was aware of the risks in aiding your escape, yet he consistently offered you the option, for which you were immensely grateful.

Glancing out the window, you observed the gathering crowd preparing for the event, but something felt profoundly amiss. Perhaps it was the stark reality of the forced marriage now unfolding, or the piercing sensation of Amerantha's gaze fixed upon you from a distance. Turning to Tamlin, you nervously bit your lip, allowing your thoughts to wander. “What if I agree this time? Do you truly believe you could get me out without my father’s lap dog noticing?”

Tamlin froze, his eyes widening before swiftly checking the door, ensuring no one would intrude. “I could, but we need to act now. If we delay, the opportunity for your successful escape will close, and we’ll both be ensnared in this game,” he declared, crossing the room to a concealed passageway. He pressed against the wall, revealing a hidden door. “There's a passage beneath the castle that will lead you just outside the woods. Run from there as fast as you can, and don't look back,” he instructed, grasping your hand and guiding you toward the entryway. “I'll distract Amerantha. We know she's been after me, so use this chance to escape,” he murmured before pulling you into an embrace. “You have to survive this. You're nothing like your father; you have to believe that,” he whispered into your hair before ushering you through the door.

Stepping back, you watched him close the door, sharing a silent goodbye. As soon as the door shut, you counted to ten, attempting to steady your nerves before sprinting down the tunnel, the echo of your footsteps resonating through the empty passageway. Reaching the end, you scanned the area and noticed a smaller door obscured by vines. Clearing them away, you pushed against the door, groaning when it refused to budge. The hairs on your neck stood on end as voices echoed in the tunnel, calling out your name. Desperation to escape surged within you. Slamming your shoulder against the door, you stifled a yelp as pain shot through it. As the voices drew closer, your urgency to flee intensified. Pushing against the door one last time, blinding light greeted you, followed by the gentle sounds of birds. Looking up, you realized Tamlin had been right; the exit led right to the edge of the woods. Gathering your dress, you dashed into the forest without a backward glance.

Rhysand sensed trouble the moment he arrived at the Spring Court with his father. Chairs were arranged neatly, and the garden adorned as if for a wedding. Rage fueled him as he surveyed the scene. Having recently lost his mother and younger sister, he found the Spring Court seemingly celebrating. His gaze locked onto Tamlin and his father before his own father scoffed, advancing closer.

"Nice of you to dress up for our arrival, Eldric," his father sneered, moving in.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Dorrian?" Eldric replied, narrowing his gaze at the High Lord. Rhysand couldn't tear his burning gaze away from Tamlin, standing uncomfortably beside his father, avoiding eye contact. Tamlin seemed nervous, and Rhysand wondered what had him so on edge.

"Well, I heard there was a celebration. Imagine my surprise when I found out I wasn't invited. Couldn't be because you murdered my wife and child in cold blood, could it? No, maybe my invitation just got lost in transit." Dorrian was many things, but patience was his greatest asset in situations like these. His father enjoyed toying with those who defied him, relishing in their eventual breakdown.

"Unfortunately, you haven't missed much as our main event… got away." Something in those words made Rhysand cringe. Observing Tamlin again, it finally clicked—the reason for their words: a wedding. Tamlin appeared to be the groom, but who was the bride? Knowing his father's political involvement, it could be anyone from a powerful family. This could explain Tamlin's guilt; he was likely the cause for the event's cancellation.

"Rhysand, stay here with Eldric's son. I have matters to discuss with him. Do nothing until I tell you," his father ordered, casting a fiery gaze at Eldric, who smiled in a way that would hasten his demise far sooner than Rhysand wished. Nodding in compliance, he watched them walk away, disappearing from sight.

"Rhys, I'm sorry for what happened. I had no idea my father would go that far," Tamlin began. Raising his hand, Rhysand shook his head. If he listened to Tamlin speak any further, he might lash out, inviting trouble with his father.

"Don't even try, Tamlin. I don't want to hear your excuses. Do you understand what it's like to discover your mother was murdered? Your little sister? She was just a child, Tamlin. Lyra had dreams, a future. And you and your family took that away from her. You stole the life of a child, and your father has the gall to smile about it. And you? You're getting married right after your family ended their lives, celebrating it as if it's an accomplishment," Rhysand spat, shaking his head in disbelief.

Tamlin opened and closed his mouth before nodding. Just as Tamlin attempted to speak again, a piercing scream tore through the building. Moments later, Dorrian emerged, wiping blood off his hands.

"Congratulations, Tamlin. You're now a High Lord. I'll stop my son from killing you, but you're no longer on good terms with the Night Court," Dorrian stated curtly.

Rhysand turned to his father, shaking his head. Tamlin's family had just been slaughtered, and he was expected to keep him alive? How was that fair? Tamlin knew of Eldric's plans and said nothing. They were supposed to be friends, yet Tamlin kept this crucial information from him. He had kept silent, and it cost Rhysand his mother and sister. Clenching his fist, Rhysand shot Tamlin one last look before storming out. He needed space, needed air before he lost control.

Winnowing to the edge of the woods, he walked along the path, the sun beating down on his tanned skin. As he licked his lips, something gold caught his eye. Stopping abruptly, he noticed a young woman struggling with her dress, caught on something.

He focused on the ghastly pattern of the dress, letting realization sink in. The dress matched Tamlin's suit, indicating that this was the woman he was to marry—the one who had fled. She was undeniably beautiful, drawing him in with her vibrant personality. Perhaps it was the cascade of colorful words that escaped her lips as the dress tore, or her defiant kick at the log holding the fabric captive. Her demeanor brought a smile to his face as he observed her. Approaching cautiously, he halted at a safe distance and cleared his throat.

"If this isn’t a damsel in distress, I don’t know what is," he remarked, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby tree.

The young woman snapped her head up, huffing as she raised an eyebrow. "And are you supposed to be my knight in shining armor? Should I play the part and pretend I’m in distress?" she retorted, giving one last tug at her dress, finally freeing herself from the fabric.

Rhysand snorted, shaking his head. "No, if anything, I’m thoroughly entertained watching you rather than attempting a daring rescue from the scary log," he quipped, his violet eyes scanning the dress, pausing at the uneven tear along its side. "What brings you out here anyway? Looks like you were meant to be getting married," he inquired, straightening up as she shot a fiery glare in his direction.

"I decided to skip the wedding and run away. Why do you care anyway? It doesn't concern you," she grumbled.

"You’re right, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not at least curious why you're out here alone. The least the groom could've done is ensure your safety, so you wouldn’t be vulnerable to harm," he replied.

"Are you thinking of hurting me?" she asked, raising a brow, adopting a more intimidating stance. It struck Rhysand with astonishment. She made a valid point, especially since he had floated the idea.

"No, in fact, I’m the last person who would want to hurt you," he admitted, averting his gaze from her. There was something about her that intrigued him, a compelling allure that made him feel a need to protect her. A snort escaped her lips, drawing his attention back.

"What's your name anyway? Might as well let me know so I know who to haunt if I end up dead," she chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her sense of humor strangely put him at ease. But at the sound of a twig snapping, her head jerked towards the noise before she cleared her throat. "I should go. Enjoy your stroll in the woods," she said, darting away once more, leaving Rhysand lost in thought.

"Rhysand," he whispered as if she could somehow hear him. He turned his head towards a figure standing next to him, tensing as he saw his father shaking his head.

"No wonder she ran from marrying Tamlin; she wasn't meant for the Spring Court," his father remarked, his gaze fixed on the retreating figure of the woman. "Promise me one thing, son. Stay far away from her if you ever cross paths," Dorrian urged, keeping his eyes trained on her direction.

"Why? She seemed harmless. She had a battle with a log over her dress. I doubt she could harm me or you," Rhysand questioned, raising a brow, facing his father, awaiting an explanation.

"Because she's a liability and a danger to both you and your future," Dorrian murmured cryptically.

[viperwhispered]

Funny fic idea:

Some RSA prince has a crush on the reader/MC. Being a princeTM, he automatically assumes its a damsel in distress situation. He notices they spend a lot of time at Scarabia and once again assumes that his beloved must be dating that horrible villain Kalim. After all, if he's at NRC he must be evil no matter how good his hospitality skills are. Cue him going to confront Kalim in a contest for the reader's hand in marriage.

Cut to Kalim, post-chapter 4, and no longer as oblivious. He's confused at the open hostility but quickly puts it together. Kalim is about to explain that the so-called damsel is dating Jamil but he stops himself. If he corrects him, then he's just gonna go harass Jamil and he can't have that. So Kalim jokingly accepts the challenge, neither confirming nor denying his relationship with the reader. He sends Jamil off with a list of errands to keep him out of Scarabia (said "errands" include hug your beloved, kiss your dearest, cuddle them, etc).

To combat this threat, Kalim connects with his inner Scarabia student and unlocks his full powers as a professional nuiscence. You see, all NRC students have to pick up certain skills to survive in their respective dorms. Ever since the overblot, Kalim has been perfecting the Scarabian art of fire starting and then acting surprised when shit blows up.

Cue Kalim dragging the RSA prince in a wild goose chase all over NRC while constantly bombarding him with a much more aggressive form of Scarabian hospitality and dialing his energy levels from 10 to 20.

The rest of the dorm and even the school is joining in because 1.Fuck RSA 2.It's the only time the teachers would let them get away with it. Also for Scarabia, their port-CH4 motto is "Happy Jamil, happy Scarabia" (just because their dorm mates doesn't mean they're spared from a good roasting).

Meanwhile, Jamil spends a nice time with his beloved and silently thanking Kalim for the day off. Grim is being babysat by ADeuce, so maybe they finally got enough time for netflix and chill, who knows?

I'm starting to feel like I really should spend more time thinking about Kalim's personality and reading his stories so I could give some proper thoughts to these - I'm really not so confident when it comes to my understanding of him (another reason why Kalim is more of a background character in my fics so far).

Like yes he's the sweet sunshine boy but all these characters are too multidimensional for just the surface reading to be all there is.

I do absolutely love this idea, tho. I don't even know how deliberate Kalim would need to be about this. Like, I could also see him going in with good intentions and not much else, yet his earnestness and enthusiasm being enough to carry him through in the end. 

Plus I can totally see Kalim throwing himself in harm's way for Jamil. How appreciated that would be… well, that’s another thing altogether, isn’t it? And like, whether Jamil would be able to actually chill, knowing all this is going on… Well, that'd require a lot of unlearning of old habits for him, I wouldn't hold my breath. But hey, I'm sure we can help him relax a bit. 

I do also wonder how Jamil would feel about being pushed aside in this situation. Would he feel glad not having to deal with it? I suppose, since it's Kalim doing it, Jamil wouldn't at least take it as so much of a slight for Jamil's ability to handle the situation. Like, say what you will about these two, but I'm sure Jamil knows just how highly Kalim regards Jamil's abilities.

It would be such chaos, tho, and the whole NRC would absolutely be all over it. Some to help you out, some for Jamil or Kalim’s sake, most just for the chance to stick it up for this pompous RSA prince.

And in the end RSA prince comes to the conclusion that Kalim is actually as sweet as he looks and actually maybe Kalim is the one who needs to be saved from NRC (and might be a most eligible match, too). 

Cue Jamil's mixed feelings of a) possibility of respite from Kalim but b) not being able to just let him get “kidnapped” without consequences.

Also that line of “Scarabian art of fire starting and then acting surprised when shit blows up”... If that ain’t Jamil in book 4 to a T. Wonderfully put.

[sisionscreen]

Hi,

In my country, I haven't been able to watch season 4 of sisi 2021 yet. I really do want to know what's happening so could you give a summary(with spoilers) of what's happening during the season? Is there any infidelity or like is the storyline hinting at it?

Spoilers below.

I'll try to make this as short as possible while also ideally covering everything.

Sisi is traveling and has a riding accident which makes her fall into a coma for quite some time and she only barely escapes being paralized. Meanwhile her father Max suffers a heart attack and dies soon after.

Sisi misses her father's funeral because Franz decided not to tell her while she is recovering. It puts a strain on their relationship as Sisi couldn't say goodbye to her dad.

At Possenhofen, we learn that Max actually gambled away the castle to the jockey Georg Basselet whose family previously owned the estate. Sisi is determined to save her family home and demands a horse race. He eventually agrees. However, Franz has asked her not to ride again. He soon has to leave for Vienna while she decides to stay behind "to recover".

The horse keeper at Possenhofen is actually Sisi's half-sister Linda because surprise, surprise Max has had an affair since at least the beginning of his marriage to Ludovika. Linda is the only one who can handle the fastest horse in the stable but Ludovika actually fired her after Max's death. Sisi gets her back but then she accused of murdering her mother Adele. She didn't. It looks like Ludovika did it but she also didn't and instead Adele had commited suicide. Ludovika tried to hide this whole thing because she swapped babies with Adele, helped by Archduchess Sophie, after her Louis had died in childbed. She promised Adele to love Louis like her own child (she did) but after Max's death Adele's suicide note would have revealed the truth. It's all nicely cleaned up by pulling rank.

Sisi has a love-hate relationship with Georg Basselet. They have chemistry and they dance but he dislikes the nobility. Anyway they tease each other all the time. It's a bit will they, won't they. Surprisingly, they neither kiss nor fuck.

Franz eventually gets to know about Sisi lying to him and orders her back to Vienna. Ludovika told on Sisi because Sisi was snooping around and close to figuring out what her mother was hiding. Grünne is the one doing the dirty work here by investigating everything for Sisi. For the Grünne fan out there: No, he has no interaction with Franz. Their relationship remains broken.

Sisi eventually gets back to Bavaria. Does the race, wins while Franz secretly watches. He realized he can't cage her, she realized he is her home but she will never be able to stay long in Vienna because she hates court. Kiss and end.

The side plots are about Sisi's siblings Louis and Sophie Charlotte (they always call her by both names which gets annoying real fast). Louis is in love with actress Henriette Mendel and actually engaged, he just doesn't know how to tell his mother. They break up for a bit and then decide to be secret lovers because Louis is supposed to marry one of his cousin King Ludwig II's minister's daughter, so he himself can become justice secretary. He eventually realizes he loves Henriette more than his dream and gives it up to be with her. Louis basically mirrors his father's story but ultimately chooses love.

Sophie is basically Max's female clone. She is rebellious, quick-witted, entitled and bold. Ludovika wants her married. Her act of rebellion is choosing Ludwig. The family is horrified but eventually has not choice but to go along as Ludwig also shows interest in her and kisses her in public, only to then drop her like a hot potato. She confronts him. Yada yada yada. Eventually she agrees to meet some other dude and quite likes him. However, it is not the Duke the historical Sophie marries.

I think that's mostly it. It's kinda left open in a way that RTL could develop a spin-off focussing on Louis, Ludwig and Sophie Charlotte, if they wanted to. I don't think they are doing this but they absolutely could.

[pollyssecretlibrary]

“A Problem Princess”, by Anna Harrington

I read this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review RELEASE DATE - Apr11, 2023 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Lords of the Armory” is a series about former soldiers of the Napoleonic wars who initially created a place of solace for ex combatants who didn’t know what to do with their lives after Waterloo but some of them, an elite of them, ended up under the employ of the Home secretary and now they work as spies or secret service to unveil and fight Scepter, a secret group of extremists who want to overthrow the status quo by killing the Prince Regent and the Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool. In this, the sixth book of the series, our hero is Clayton Elliot, one of the main leaders of the Armory who works as undersecretary for the Home Office. He had saved the lives of the Regent and Lord Liverpool in the previous book, and managed to cover the attempted assassination with a citizens riot, so no one nows why all of a sudden Prince George has given him the rank of general and why is he a favorite in the court. Everything has been kept a secret or covered since everyone who is in the known believe that Scepter are over and done with the demise of their leader. But Clayton has a feeling that another leader will rise and the band will regroup and try again.

Princess Cordelia of Monrovia is in England to be offered in marriage to one of the Royal dukes (Prince George’s brothers) to seal the relationship between her country and England. She feels like a swan in a gilded cage but she knows her duty and she has been brought up by her uncle, Crown Prince Ernest, to behave and do what must be done at all times. Her motivations aren’t entirely selfless, since she wants to do it for her people who, she is convinced, were betrayed by her late father, who was the Crown Prince before Albert and who died with his wife in an accident. There’s a welcome ceremony for the Prince and his niece at Carlton House and Clayton was invited, only to find himself protecting the princess from a false footman who threatened her life with a knife to the throat. From that moment, Prinny appoints Clayton as the responsible for the protection of the princess, but also from that moment, neither Clayton, nor Cordelia can take their eyes off each other. I wonder if Anna Harrington created Cordelia as an homage to my favorite Audrey Hepburn movie “Roman Holiday”. Her opening scene is a recreation of Princess Ana (Hepburn’s Character) bedroom scene, when she is told of all of the next day’s activities and she calls her daily routine “The program”. In that scene Ana opens a window and sees Rome at night, with its life, its music and its people enjoying the good weather, and she dreams of having at least one day of normalcy, one day in which she could have an ordinary woman’s life. Cordelia is just the same, only her adventure is much more dangerous than Ana’s because someone wants to kill her. Cordelia doesn’t think she has such an important role in anybody’s life, her only fate in life is to marry a royal duke and have children for England. If only for a moment… It’s Clayton who gives her just that. The normalcy, he treats her with respect and consideration but not in the way courtiers and admirers treat her but like a human being who feels and think and whose opinion is as valid as everyone else’s. For Clayton she is a magnificent woman, not ordinary at all because she’s so smart and brave and beautiful. She overcomes incidents and “accidents” with courage, not because she’s not terrified at all, but because he gives her strength and encouragement. He admires for who she is, and the more time they spend together the more he feels he is losing his heart for her. There’s a key moment when he has to decide if he would forget his personal mission of uncovering and destroying Scepter or give his life to protect her if necessary. I always thought that Clayton was a bit of a pain, but in this book he reveals himself to be a man of honor, duty and heart. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her or to keep her safe, even if that means that he’ll be considered a traitor to the Crown. Once again Anna’s style of writing is incredibly direct and straight to the point. She gets you invested in her stories and characters by refusing to fall into lyricism or artifices. She doesn’t mince words but doesn’t use more than she needs to, she’s very precise but don’t get me wrong, she delivers every time. She compensates the lack of ingenuity or beauty by providing a good amount of angst and excitement. She’s not the spiciest writer that I have ever read but she treats these few moments with care and delicacy. Her books are full of action and intrigue yet the moments of intimacy are full of vibrant emotion. She knows how to engage her readers and she does that masterfully. Honestly I had a lot of fun reading this book.

[punkscowardschampions]

Mali

Ali: You took Rio to get a tattoo?

Moses: Why are you asking us? You’ve seen so, haven’t you?

Ali: The why was implied pretty heavily

Ali: Kind of a weird choice, no?

Moses: It’s settled, it’s on her skin

Moses: a choice the girl made herself

Ali: Again, I wasn’t really talking about the artistic vision

Ali: How did it even come about, did she ask you or what?

Moses: Wes talked about it, she was after coming with me and did

Ali: I didn’t know you were in contact like that these days

Moses: She serves at my local these days

Ali: Yeah, true

Ali: She wanted a part-time job, do you think it’s been going good?

Moses: Been a hit with the regulars

Ali: She could do the job standing on her head

Ali: but you do remember she’s not old enough for it nor a tattoo, right

Moses: I remember you acting up worse less grown than her

Ali: And she’s a good girl, I’d have just appreciated some warning that you were going to take her to get inked

Moses: If she didn’t tell you that’s no business of mine

Ali: You know it’s my business 

Moses: I wouldn’t what you do or don’t busy yourself with now you’re back involved with a married man playing happy families

Ali: It figures that this is what it’s really about

Moses: He’s got 5 kids you’re keeping him from, letting him put another in you don’t give you the right

Ali: I’m not keeping him from them

Moses: Sure you’re not

Ali: I’m not

Ali: he’s giving your sister space and time, which he doesn’t have to do but under the circumstances seemed right

Moses: How’s my sister meant to show her face around

Moses: he’s driven her out by making a fool of her and whore of you

Ali: The rest of us managed

Ali: though I’m sure a fresh start has been welcomed

Moses: There’s no comparison, he owed you nothing and that’s how you was treated

Moses: he was hitched to her

Ali: I wasn’t just talking about myself, or claiming I’m a victim in this situation

Ali: it clearly wasn’t a happy marriage on both sides, you can admit that and still blame him

Moses: All you care about is yourself

Ali: Life’d be easier if that were true

Moses: Yours is with her away, you can step right into her place

Ali: She took herself away

Ali: as did Ronan

Moses: She had no choice, his carry on humiliated her

Moses: do you know how many of our women divorce? ‘Course you don’t cos you’re not one of us

Ali: I know she’s not the first or last

Ali: and that doesn’t make it any easier

Moses: She’s the self respect neither of you’ve none of

Ali: Okay, it’s your job to defend her

Moses: I defended you plenty, use it does

Ali: You knew why he got married that young

Ali: it’s not like you were in the dark at any point

Moses: Nor were he about what marrying meant

Ali: He didn’t have all the facts

Moses: You would make excuses for him

Ali: It’s just the truth, if he knew then what he does now, he wouldn’t have gone through with it

Ali: but the knowledge this late saved no one

Moses: He couldn’t do no wrong in your eyes before his opened to that truth

Ali: That’s bullshit

Ali: you know I’ve always taken him to task for Django, first off

Moses: Nah, you let him offer the boy hush money then you let his feet back under your table, it’s no less his roof for being moved out

Moses: you call yourself his mammy

Ali: The money was for Una

Moses: It was for my cousin’s guilt, get a grip

Ali: I don’t care what his intentions were, I know how it was used and I’ll not find fault in that

Ali: Django and I just want each other to be happy, I thought you of all people would want that for your sister

Moses: As I said, you’ve never found fault

Moses: think how that boy feels to be left out in the cold while he’s playing daddy to the rest

Ali: And I’d force him through it for my own selfish reason?

Ali: There’s no undoing those choices, Django knows he has me, no matter what else is going on, that’s how it’s always been

Moses: Had you, maybe

Ali: Moses, how would you even know

Ali: when’s the last time you saw him, like?

Moses: I’m no eejit

Moses: you’re willingly becoming one for John’s sake, he’s no different in getting put aside than anything or anyone else who is for yous to have what you want

Ali: My kids are my kids, I have time for them all and it’s nothing to do with who I’m with

Moses: Yeah right

Ali: They were babies when we were together, it’s different, they’ve all their own minds now to respect

Moses: Minds you’re not bothering yourself with when your head’s full of only him and your body’s full of a baby you both want more

Ali: Am I not here asking after Rio

Ali: before we ended up here

Moses: A question you had the answer to, you’re not really troubling yourself, are you

Ali: You know I don’t mind if she gets a tattoo, you can hardly call me a bad parent for it now when you’re the one that took her

Ali: I mind you using her to make some kind of point, or to score one

Moses: Bold to reckon I care about you in this at all now

Ali: You don’t have to, we can leave children out of it, that’s all I’m asking and I think that’s fair

Moses: Children don’t get work pulling pints

Ali: You don’t think she’s safer there, where people know who she is, than in some random shop on [insert famous Dublin high street vibe here]?

Moses: You’re late to ask us my opinion

Ali: but you clearly have one so you may as well

Moses: Fair cop to you, with no shame, trying to use her yourself when you said you minded it so bad

Ali: How am I?

Moses: Bring up how she’s a baby again to put me in the wrong when she’s nothing of the sort and neither am I to take her anywhere

Ali: It’s just a little out the blue

Ali: again, when is the last time you saw her before she got the job

Moses: I used to see her every day ‘til you got knocked up by her daddy again, when’s the last time he spent any of his time with her instead of supplying her mates

Ali: None of us are in disagreement about his decency as a father

Moses: Don’t talk to us like I’ve none

Moses: you left me, you took her from me

Ali: I left you, I never took Edie from you, not once

Moses: We’re not speaking of her

Ali: The other two could see you too, I’m not a monster

Ali: it was just me and you that didn’t work out

Moses: She wanted it to work out with her real daddy, showing disloyalty to him via me wasn’t gonna help nothing

Ali: Of course she did, she was just a kid, crushing that hope on his behalf was unnecessary 

Moses: The hope you gave her going back to him

Ali: It wasn’t like that, he doesn’t do real relationships

Moses: To you, she was just a kid thinking she’d got her daddy home

Ali: This was 10 years ago now

Ali: haven’t I made up for it, put shit right as best as any of us can

Moses: That’s for you to talk to your daughter about, like

Ali: You’re the one bringing it up but sure

Moses: Where do you reckon I heard it, Ali

Ali: But why would she talk to you about this

Moses: Who else can she, you’re telling yourself it’s grand and you’ve done right by everyone

Ali: Jesus, am not

Ali: I’m defending myself from you in this convo, not sainting myself on the reg

Moses: Don’t worry yourself, your new man’ll saint you whenever you want

Ali: Because that’s all I care about, nice one

Moses: How you behave ain’t nice but it’s been years there too and you’ve learned no lessons

Ali: I know who I am

Moses: We all do

Ali: You got what you wanted from me, I don’t know why you’re holding a grudge

Moses: You’ve never seen us hold a grudge, sweetheart

Ali: Let’s not

Moses: You started it, I wouldn’t finish it by telling me what to do if I was you

Ali: I’m not going to be threatened by you

Moses: I don’t make threats I carry ‘em out, as well you know when you needed my brother to fall in line

Ali: Which is why you’re lashing out, you don’t know what to do about this

Moses: There’s nothing to be done, he’s as welcome to my leftovers as Ro was

Ali: As long as you feel better 

Moses: As long as you watch how you talk to me

Ali: Who’s name-calling, not me

Moses: Let’s not act like you’re above it

Ali: I couldn’t possibly be above anything

Moses: If this is what you wanna live like, you’re gonna feel low

Ali: You’re not concerned, no need to think about it

Moses: Right, your problem

Ali: I’ve none, obviously

Moses: No skin off my nose, you’ll be sorry when every kid of yours resents you

Ali: Well I only care about the one inside me, don’t I

Ali: not remotely concerned that your brother has kidnapped one

Moses: First time you’ve mentioned him, you can’t be that concerned

Ali: What would be the point of mentioning it to you, you’ve made it totally clear how you feel

Moses: I’ve seen him, you could ask after him, but why would you

Ali: You don’t want to help me, even that much

Moses: You’ve done even less for me lately

Ali: Be why I didn’t say you owed me

Ali: obviously you’re going to take your brother and sister’s side, what else would you do

Moses: Said like I never took yours over his and him in hand before

Ali: He was in the wrong entirely that time

Ali: now it’s nowhere near black and white 

Moses: Kids need their mammy, it’s women’s work for a reason

Ali: He’ll have to come around or I’ll have to do something about it

Ali: he’s getting grace for my fuck ups but that only extends so far

Moses: Babies is where you can have a say, even when he’s a boy

Ali: I’m messaging every day

Moses: If you’d left my sister’s marriage alone she wouldn’t be around to raise your son and the day’d come sooner Ro got sick of both roles

Ali: As you said, she has 5 of her own that she’s raising alone right now, she’ll get sick of that too, no doubt, never mind picking up any slack

Moses: The eldest girl’s more than of an age to help and raised to, there’s your hope crushed

Ali: Things have changed significantly, how they’ve been raised is being challenged, I would dare say

Moses: I know my niece, she’s her ways set in stone

Moses: but the younger ones will have their fun to be sure

Ali: As I said, he’s time but it’s limited

Moses: He’ll hear

Ali: I hope so

Moses: You either trust me or you don’t

Ali: It’s not about trusting you

Moses: Yeah it is

Ali: It’s trusting him to do the right thing for Junior

Ali: which I have to

Moses: He’ll do what he’s told, if I’m the one doing the telling

Ali: He’s 30 years old, not 13

Ali: He shouldn’t need his big brother to tell him things now

Moses: When he don’t carry on like a stropping 13 year old I might treat him as the man he should be

Ali: Well, I look forward to that day, like

Moses: Do us both a favour and hold your breath so’s I don’t have to hear yous ‘til then

Ali: Charming as always

Ali: Perhaps if one of my children is considering body-altering choices, you could let me know beforehand next time

Moses: Half the fun is you being last to be told and getting in my face

Ali: I know you have a better idea of fun than that

Moses: It was cute when you had your own, RIP

Ali: It’s easier for you

Moses: What would you know?

Ali: Making me the nag means you can dismiss me, it’s fine

Moses: Don’t nag me, woman, it’s simple

Ali: Now, I owe you that favour, at least

Moses: Least you can do after everything I still do for you

Ali: Really

Moses: Yeah

Ali: You must be going soft in your old age, to still be bothering

Moses: Or I’ve always been and you never bothered yourself to notice

Ali: I was joking

Ali: you aren’t as bad as you pretend to be

Moses: You’re a joke and I’ve heard ‘em all

Ali: Sure but your unoriginal material is allowed to fly

Moses: Would be out of date, as you said, we are

Ali: Ancient history, yeah

Moses: And I’m busy in the present, you done having a go or what

Ali: Have you heard me or not

Ali: I could always hammer the point home a few more times to be certain

Moses: You’d need a point first

Ali: You don’t help yourself do you

Moses: I don’t reckon the sun shines out your hole, you mean

Ali: If that’s what I was after, I’d have joined Caleb at [the commune] and started a cult

Ali: I’m just trying to do my best for all the kids, that’s it, I’d like to be on the same page about that with you

Moses: All the kids except my sister’s, yeah

Ali: That’s her’s and Johnny’s business, not mine

Moses: You stuck yourself in the middle of it being a homewrecker you don’t get to turn a blind eye

Ali: And I’d help it trying to raise her kids, how?

Ali: Of course I care but I’ve no say

Moses: She’s no fucking say, you do

Moses: he’d go home on your word

Ali: There’s not a home to go back to, she’s left, he’s left

Moses: Who’s to provide for her? Ronan?

Ali: They need to talk

Ali: Johnny will, he’s still their father

Moses: ‘Til he’s fathered how many by you

Ali: I can provide for my kids, I’ve never needed that sort of help

Ali: I’m not taking that away

Moses: It’s cultural, you know that

Moses: unless you’re taking his instead

Ali: He had them first, he still has to provide for them, he intends to as soon as she’s ready to talk it out

Ali: it’s new territory, I’m not saying he can’t provide anything but not at the sake of them, no

Moses: He’ll have me to answer to if he’s gutless again, how he was about the boy

Ali: Yeah

Ali: he’s grown a lot since then

Moses: In the ways that interest you

Ali: No, not what I meant

Moses: Ah, I don’t wanna take your meaning where he’s concerned, thanks

Ali: It’d be weird if we saw eye to eye but he’s been there this entire time, he’s still trying to be there now, you don’t need to worry

Moses: They’re my family to worry over, as he’s losing no sleep tucked up next to you, someone has to

Ali: When has he ever not worried, come on 

Ali: you know him 

Moses: About you, not her

Ali: About everything and everyone 

Moses: He’s a prick, everything he does is for his own gain

Ali: Yeah, okay

Ali: easy to say that in the now, less so for the past 17 or so years

Moses: She gave him exactly what he wanted, it ain’t her fault she isn’t you

Ali: No one is blaming her

Moses: He has and now he’s treating her worse than a dog

Ali: Don’t you want her to find love?

Ali: there was no way before but now she’s free to 

Moses: Who’s gonna love her with all his kids in tow

Moses: you’ve no clue how lucky you’ve been

Ali: The right person she wants around them won’t have a problem with it

Moses: Decent men don’t just appear from nowhere

Ali: No but they’re not extinct either and if he’s such a prick then she’s better off without 

Moses: My daughter’s better off without him controlling her every move, let’s have that conversation then

Ali: He is not controlling anyone’s every move, so we can but there’s not a lot of point

Moses: Give him chance, he’s been at yours five minutes

Moses: and can’t legally marry you yet

Ali: When have I ever let anyone tell me what to do

Ali: even when you were doing the telling

Moses: You’ll let him play daddy to my baby

Moses: at least you reckon you will but you’ll not get far

Ali: We’re all of us too old for playing games

Ali: she’s your daughter, nothing can change that

Moses: Best you remember it

Ali: How could I forget

Moses: You turn into someone proper thick when you’re near him

Ali: You act like you want to hear why

Moses: You’d have me listen, and whoever else is a captive audience, it’s an embarrassment 

Ali: Yeah, right

Ali: homewreckers don’t get to bathe in the warm glow of congrats, I’ll have to cope without 

Moses: I’m sure your family have shares in whatever babies need for your sake

Ali: If they’re smart

Ali: and it’s only 7, you can’t clutch your pearls

Moses: If they had the same daddy I wouldn’t

Ali: Considering you saw to that being impossible, strange you’d complain

Moses: You’re welcome I saw to only 1 being his before you fucked that for yourself

Ali: You’re welcome I freed you

Moses: I was free the entire time, you wouldn’t commit to us

Ali: Not how you wanted

Moses: How any sane person wants, but you had your blatant obsession to keep alight

Ali: We had a child, if you’re not Caleb, that’s a commitment 

Moses: Letting every man who shows an interest put one inside you devalues it slightly though

Ali: Do you want me to say you meant nothing to me? 

Moses: I know I didn’t, I’m not thick

Ali: I’m not going to force you to think different for my own peace

Moses: You were thinking of him, no need to say it

Moses: you’ve your peace now, there you go

Ali: For fuck’s sake

Moses: Enjoy your fresh start and fuck whoever got hurt for being in the way, that’s the past

Ali: I was doing everything I could to not think of him

Ali: you’re nothing alike, there was no looking for cheap imitations 

Moses: You were doing everything you could to get at him 

Moses: and we’re related, you’re welcome

Ali: Alright, have it your way

Moses: It’s how it is, next time Johnny remembers he’s got other kids, have a chat about them and swap birthdays, cos they match those of yours like yous planned that between yourselves

Ali: I had noticed, what with the obsession

Moses: Don’t talk down to me like I’m paranoid when you used us to wind him up

Ali: It was more complicated than that but you don’t want it to be

Moses: Nah, you’re after overcomplicating it to make yourself sound better

Ali: What are we even arguing about it for?

Ali: We’d never have worked

Moses: You’d never have stopped passing yourself around, no argument from us

Ali: You’re welcome

Moses: Did the ghost of your dead pal tell you to

Ali: I don’t think you’d come highly recommended, no

Moses: Making yourself available for everyone’s use wouldn’t, especially my cousin’s

Ali: You believe in wisdom you can only get in the afterlife now?

Moses: She got that learning while still living

Ali: She didn’t die for my sins, nor none of yours

Moses: I didn’t sin against her

Ali: None of you were kind to her

Ali: we all let her down

Moses: She got what she wanted from us, it weren’t kindness

Moses: you let her down, she knew where she stood with me

Ali: She’d fail to miss that message

Moses: I dunno, was like talking to a plank of wood

Ali: My God, grow up

Ali: she’s been gone these 17 years able to do no harm to no one

Moses: You first, hanging onto him the same number of years

Ali: You of all people know I can’t

Moses: That makes it alright then, yeah

Ali: I haven’t said it is, it’s just the truth

Moses: Jesus, pathetic is what it is

Moses: nobody forced you to be that much of a whore and he weren’t the one forced to marry, my sister was

Ali: He didn’t pick

Moses: He was a grown man with a means to earn, you and him could’ve taken yourselves away, or he could’ve alone

Ali: We did, it didn’t last

Moses: Girls already have no say, no power

Moses: and she had even less thanks to the pair of you

Ali: And what about you?

Moses: What about me

Ali: It had to be your sister because you and Ronan were shaping up to be disgraces

Ali: If you boys couldn’t do exactly as you pleased then maybe your sister wouldn’t have to sacrifice herself for the sake of your family’s reputation

Moses: Shift the blame back to us, ‘course none of it’s his or yours

Moses: I did right by you, there’s no disgrace in it

Ali: They happened before us, that decision was made from how yous were acting

Ali: obviously everything after has blame enough for me and him, plenty

Moses: Before, I was acting well within my rights

Moses: even ‘respectable’ lads don’t marry ‘til they’re 21, none of my family saw any shame in how I behaved

Ali: Your daddy agreed, there had to be a reason

Moses: He was tricked into seeing it as a good match, anyone would without knowing of the ins and outs of you and him

Ali: You knew, your sister knew

Ali: by the time they got hitched everyone fucking knew, I was insane about it

Moses: I packed a bag for her to go, she wouldn’t disobey my daddy’s wishes

Ali: Because he didn’t see Johnny’s behaviour as a problem, same as yours

Moses: If he’d gotten over it, there’d be no problem

Ali: He could’ve cheated on her with me the entire time and your family wouldn’t have shit to say in her defence 

Ali: but put the weight of her shame and feeling like she can’t show her face at my door, as if she’d not just be expected to take it

Moses: He’s not meant to put you at the same level as her

Moses: you’re to fuck

Ali: And you’ve seen for yourself, the comfort that is

Ali: You don’t believe in any of this

Moses: He could’ve married you, it ain’t the taboo he told you it was

Ali: Take that up with his father

Moses: He took up with my sister, I believe in him not ruining her life

Ali: Divorce happens, not such a taboo these days either

Moses: It isn’t only that

Ali: What then?

Moses: She can’t get the years back

Ali: Of course not

Ali: same would be true whoever she married

Moses: She deserved better

Ali: Yeah, she deserved a say

Moses: He fucked up everything for everyone and there you are forgiving him, chucking him happiness he don’t deserve

Ali: For entirely selfish reasons, I don’t deserve it either but I won’t deny myself because of that

Moses: Your reasons have always been

Ali: I know

Moses: And I’m bored, your daughter knows where I am when she’s looking for more trouble to get herself in

Ali: Ha ha

Moses: You’re laughing now

Ali: One tattoo is enough for a 14 year old, thanks

Moses: She’ll find me

Ali: I’m going to talk to her myself

Moses: Good, do better

Ali: You really seem concerned 

Moses: I’m less selfish than you

Ali: Offering ‘trouble’ doesn’t help anyone

Moses: You’re the one calling us such a bad influence my sister got married off

Ali: There’s no need to live up to the claim

Moses: Why’s that?

Ali: Because you don’t want to be the worst version of yourself, no one does

Moses: What I want’s never mattered to you

Ali: It’s not about me

Moses: Easy enough for you to stay out of it in that case

Ali: Not in the event it involves my daughter, no

Moses: Shame she’s her own mind, isn’t it

Ali: Why would that ever be a shame

Moses: Because you ain’t involved in her decisions

Ali: If she’s making bad ones, I can try and help her, that’s all we can do as parents

Moses: The tattoo’s cute, if it had been ugly I’d have put my foot down

Ali: She’ll appreciate not needing a cover-up or lasers in 5 years then

Moses: She’ll feel the same about it in 5 years as she does now

Ali: It’s a time for making mistakes, it’s my job to mitigate the risk behind the scenes for her

Moses: What says she about you calling her new ink a mistake

Ali: I haven’t, but it could be and it’s still not the end of the world, is my point

Moses: To her face

Ali: And I wouldn’t, it’s cute, like you said

Moses: But you’re still in mine, haven’t you nothing to do

Ali: You wanted me in your face 

Moses: Your bitching is getting repetitive 

Ali: You can quit any time you like

Moses: The reason I tolerate you ain’t changed

Ali: Ditto

Moses: I’ll remind you of her when the replacement’s here, you’ll need a nudge

Ali: It’s a good thing you’re trying to be a prick because that’s painfully unfunny

Moses: My days of entertaining you are long over, be why

Ali: Definitely not your - craic

Moses: Weren’t your personality I kept you ‘round for either

Ali: You might have mentioned

Moses: Don’t go crying now

Moses: ancient history, like

Ali: Oh yeah, that’s gonna be what gets me

Moses: I remember the state your hormones got you in

Ali: You don’t need to tell me how glad you are it’s not your problem now

Moses: Oh that’s rich, no one’s gladder than you whose baby this one finally is

Ali: I’m just saying, seeing as you think I’m making up reason to talk to you

Moses: As there’s only one means of shutting you up what works

Ali: Which is?

Moses: Something I’m not offering, you being a homewrecker’s put us off doing it myself

Ali: Oh, God

Ali: shut up yourself

Moses: Find the door yourself while you can still fit through

Ali: Ha ha, very good

Moses: The laugh is at not with

Ali: You can’t stop me taking it however I choose

Moses: The show you make of yourself stopped being funny years ago

Ali: It’s not for anyone’s entertainment, be why

Moses: Not even yous own, sadly

Moses: but you’re grand now, you got yours, everything you was after

Ali: Happy endings do exist

Moses: Sure they do

Ali: I don’t need to rub it in your face

Moses: But you’re giving it a lash

Ali: Nah

Moses: Yeah

Ali: Do you need the last word that badly?

Moses: You’re just that smug

Ali: I’m happy

Moses: At the cost of everyone else, have the sense to calm down

Ali: Sure, I’ll feel the shame owed, no more

Moses: How about feeling your son’s absence or the unhappiness of the rest of your kids

Moses: but no, enjoy your honeymoon

Ali: Don’t even start

Moses: Don’t tell us you’re happy, half my family are away to another country because of you

Ali: And you know, or you should know, that Edie is unhappy because of Una passing, which none of us could do anything about

Moses: Which is the only reason I’ve stayed

Ali: It’s a fucking awful time for them, Django and Liam too

Ali: they could give less of a shit what I’m up to, honestly and that’s fair

Moses: You don’t help yourself or them neither

Moses: timing’s shite

Ali: You’re telling me

Moses: I am, she’s need of you

Ali: I know that, I’m here every day

Moses: With him, growing another brother or sister for her to make her feel like she matters less to you

Ali: You know that’s not how it works

Ali: there’s room in my heart for every one of them

Moses: Not in your head though, that was how it worked for your mammy, she really let you slip through her fingers, didn’t she

Ali: My mammy had a lot of issues I don’t

Moses: You’ve the eldest ones no more under your eye than her

Ali: What makes you think that

Moses: I’ve seen it, you didn’t even know I had your daughter under my protection, what I protected her from

Ali: Excuse me, what

Moses: She’s safer with me, that’s why I’m back in her life

Ali: What are you talking about, what happened?

Moses: It doesn’t matter, I’ve made my point

Ali: It very much does matter

Moses: Nothing happened because I was there

Ali: At the pub, when, who did it

Moses: You’re too slow, it’s been handled

Ali: What the fuck

Ali: who are you to keep this from me

Moses: Who are you to talk to me like this

Ali: No, I don’t care about your potential hurt feelings right now

Ali: why would you not tell me that something happened to my daughter

Moses: Your daughter you sent out to encourage grown men to drink with no one watching over her

Moses: because it didn’t, I stopped it

Ali: Jesus

Moses: Johno’s not shown himself since [whenever] how happy are you with him now, hmm?

Ali: I don’t have time for you to be smug

Ali: I have to talk to my daughter

Moses: Nor does he the time for her by the sounds of it

Ali: It isn’t his job to sit through another shift with her, I didn’t ask him to

Ali: I assumed she could handle herself and that yous could be trusted not to be animals, no matter how much drink is drunk but that ones on me

Moses: Handle herself, the size of her

Ali: There are other ways to handle yourself 

Moses: And men are all animals

Ali: You said it not me

Moses: I said too I’m looking after her, that’s the last time anyone’ll try and touch her

Ali: That isn’t the point

Moses: There’s no point to hysterics, it’s done with

Ali: It’s not done with

Ali: she’s hidden it so it is obviously bad enough to stop working there

Moses: She don’t want you worrying yourself with a baby inside you, that’s fair

Ali: She’s never to worry about me, it’s my job to worry about her

Moses: Aside from being embarrassed I was the one who stepped in, she’s alright

Ali: I don’t know that

Moses: You won’t if you don’t relax, she’ll never tell you nothing

Ali: You won’t

Ali: she was still a little kid the last time I was pregnant, she just needs to know that she can still come to me, she has to

Moses: She promised she was all good, I made sure

Ali: I appreciate that you were there

Ali: now I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again

Moses: Don’t take her job off her, come on she loves it

Ali: I can’t just let her stay somewhere unsafe

Moses: That happened [whenever it did] I’ve been keeping her safe since

Ali: That’s not your job either

Moses: It’s no work being down the pub

Ali: You know what I mean

Ali: it’s mine to make sure she’s safe 

Moses: And she is, what you punishing her for, the fault’s with the man who can’t hold his drink and he’s been shown the error of his ways

Ali: I’m not punishing her

Ali: I need to talk to her, so she knows she can’t keep this stuff to herself to try and deal with

Moses: You said she’s to handle herself, ‘course she reckons the same

Ali: She’s not to believe she’s incapable when she’s not but there’s limits

Moses: You’re overreacting cos you feel guilty

Ali: I’m not overreacting

Moses: Sure, nothing happened

Ali: Now that you feel like you’ve dropped her in it

Ali: she’s not in trouble, obviously

Moses: Believe us or don’t, she’ll tell you

Ali: I believe you intervened, why wouldn’t you

Ali: but you also didn’t tell me until you could use it against us 

Moses: This is the first time I’ve spoke to you since I don’t know when, why would I go out of my way to tell you something that’s been sorted

Ali: I tell you things you need to know about Edie

Moses: You don’t need to know how I smacked a man about, Ali

Ali: God

Moses: He never touched her, nobody else will

Moses: that’s the end of the story, for christ’s sake

Ali: It was bad enough that you had to go that far, is what my ‘God’ is for 

Moses: I might’ve overreacted too, it upset me

Ali: It would, you’ve known her her whole life

Moses: She’s on my arm

Moses: and hers was tiny held out to put distance between them

Ali: Don’t, my hormones

Moses: It was the most disrespectful thing I’ve ever had to watch, I couldn’t

Moses: she should be untouchable

Ali: I know you couldn’t

Moses: I hated it, but it wasn’t that bad for her

Ali: Okay

Ali: I mean, that’s something

Moses: I told you I’m soft

Ali: You’re not soft, you just care about them all, which we all appreciate

Moses: No you don’t

Ali: Moses, yes we do

Ali: Rio clearly does

Moses: She’s a good girl

Ali: Yeah, I know

Moses: Leave her to brighten the lads’ days and earn her tips under my eye

Ali: I’m gonna talk to her

Moses: I dropped her off, unless she’s gone again, you’ve chance

Ali: Thanks

Moses: I’m not having her walk from [wherever this tattoo parlour is], heels she was wearing

Ali: I meant thanks for being there but sure thanks on behalf of her ankles too

Moses: I’d take a beating for her never mind give one

Ali: It means something that you still look out for them regardless of how you feel about me

Moses: It ain’t about you

Ali: Exactly, they’re innocent in all this

[sketchguk]

Hi it's soulmate anon! Omg I kept checking back for a few days to see if you responded but you didn't. Then I stopped checking and you did 😭😭😭 Why does the universe hate me????? About the fic idea eheh I've been thinking about it even when I daydream!!! I really like Queen Charlotte series, so I was thinking something like that where they marry for convenience. But soonyoung and mc know each other from childhood or atleast teenage because they're both royals and soonyoung has liked her from before ( I have a specific scene in mind for this skskskssk tell me to explain if you want to hear!!) But mc doesn't like this arrangement for some reason ( I don't know what yet 😔) and so she doesn't even give him a chance like ..... They get married but she makes it clear she doesn't respect this marriage. There's more I thought but this is just the jist!

Also I always get confused that you're active but i think you queue your posts 😂 Do you log in only once a week or like that??? Is there anywhere else you're active 😔

Anddddd how is everyone in Hogwarts au doing?? I miss them I love them so much please give me some small crumb about them I'm begging 😭😭😭

I'm going to check your blog everyday so I don't miss your reply again !!!!!! It makes me wanna make an account itself LOL but if you're not active it won't make sense even then 😔

oh no i'm so sorry i took so long to answer !! i queue one post a day at 8pm est !! i don't have a schedule as to when i'm online otherwise >.< do you really check tumblr without an account ?!! :0 i'd recommend you make one so that you can keep up with content creators !! and you can save your favorite fics/posts on your blog <3

marriage of convenience is such an S tier trope 🤝 don't tease me with a scene and not go into details !! i wanna hear more, of course !!! i need to know all about this royal soonyoung <33 (btw he looks sooo good this comeback. i'm obsessed with him and he is neither my bias nor my bias wrecker, but he is the coolest dude in my eyes) !!

even though your mc doesn't like the arrangement, how does she treat soonyoung? :0 does everyone see her as someone kind and sweet, but she loathes the man she's tied to? LOL (ravenclaw mc vibes !!). or does she hate everyone.. and especially soonyoung LOL. OR is she distant from him, although she can't stop herself from liking him !!!

AGH royalty aus are seriously so delicious. please tell me more about your own au !!! i will d*e if i don't have a new hyperfixation LOL

in regards to the hogwarts au, have you seen the gose comeback special? they're role-playing students, and seokmin wants to recruit the members to join the orchestra LOL. i imagine gryffindor soonyoung wanting to infiltrate one of mc's clubs even though he doesn't fit in ahaha. this man has no business joining student government or herbology, but he's standing his tallest and doing his best :') mc stares at him dumbfounded because he's unbelievably loser boy coded. she grumbles throughout the whole club meeting, but he smiles so proudly because he snagged the seat next to her LOL

other club members shoot him weird looks, and they gossip about him not having the qualifications to be here !! but if there's one thing that mc hates more than soonyoung, it's the way other people poke fun at him !!! like yes he is a himbo, and he can't be serious for one second, but only she can tell him off !!!! >:( (she also really hates injustice, so these people have no right to put him down when they're making harsh judgments). mc defends soonyoung by being snarky to those bullies >:( and they never open their mouths again aha

[ahgasegotarmy116]

hi 😊 me again so difh hmm 🤔where do i start I don't think oc is even 49% not culprit she 100% guilty. She has her flaws as a sweet person bt nah nah he did not come across initially as that manipulative. She just wanted to unconsciously 1) save her marriage with a kid (things did seem to be going in troubled waters due to prolonged distress with the og couple) & 2) not ruffle any feathers with him incase he gets too angry with them and cuts them off financially soso ------ There's no way someone says just that and I'll be opening my legs sir you'll be eating with a straw for a long long time 🍼🧊

Also my heart doesn't believe for a second jk is not hitting a younger escort/clg gal at side for no strings emergency service hotline. He totally seems the type and He's emotionally invested in OC at this point there's a huge difference in the highs he gets from both🌶☕

and i love you but i don't think for a second anyone's getting divorce or therapy in that household for a long time. There's no way he'll LET og couple divorce split custody AND LET EVERYONE IN SOCIETY KNOW he fathered 2 kids. It's neither going to be a public thing nor is it going to feature even in hush hush high society gossip radar. 🧐🤣🤣

They'll be caught soon by the husband with how sloppy jk is bt i just don't see any open clear air or therapy or new beginning for the son. Jk's the kind to rub his disability in his face both bodywise, familywise and workwise (like plz how do u come home and tell ur papa i missed my impy flight, are u like 5?? call ur fucking secretary arrange charter plane, reach that fucking meeting in style) how son's so deficient at everything he HAD to make new heirs who are more great like him (can u imagine though if kids especially the boy turns to be 100% jk) he doesn't shows those murderous symptoms but you never know with the kind of psychopath jk is his son might even be in a car crash 😉😉 and then starts the court drama of oc trying to leave but this is fucking Korea and he's richie rich. Hell probably even house her in his mansion and adopt kids as his heirs legally all the while abusing her in private (hiding initially and then in front of his wife) while cashing on brownie points from public. (Maybe even OC was pregnant with their 3rd kid) such sadness on the family and the new kiddo who never got to meet his daddy 🥲🥲

My heart feels for OC though the mental stress she's constantly under and it's good that this is a fic atleast here things can end with her leaving bit i fr don't think she CAN leave EVER if u think about it realistically. She's trapped for life and he's hooked for life on her (third time's the charm😇)

Now I'll completely understand if u dint reach to the bottom of this kyle richards style msg but i have a couple of scenarios do u care that i share?? In the next one they are😊

Hey so I really do appreciate the analysis of the story but in your previous ask telling me or any writer "you're wrong" about their own story or that they're not being they're not "Think(ing) about it realistically" when it come to some of the choices made comes off as extremely rude.

I think/hope you didn't mean it that way so please try to figure out a way to reword that statement. You said "I don't think" or something to that equivalent throughout this whole ask and you are totally entitled to think anything you would like about anything but saying things like "I love you but..." in any context is very hurtful since it's showing your love is conditional.

You can totally give constructive criticism and I'm not super pressed about what you said but I would just say for future reference just because you think something should go one way or was the wrong decision doesn't mean you were right and the person who created the story and put time and effort into releasing it for free is wrong.

At the end of the day the writer has the last say and it's their story. Only they know the full details and true thoughts and feeling of their character and what they would or wouldn't do.

Imagining the story going a different way is fine but maybe keep those thoughts and feelings to yourself if you're telling them that they've made multiple wrong choices throughout the story.

Now I'll start responding to your analysis

I do agree that she is 100% in the wrong and she never said she wasn't in the wrong. In Drabble 1 she admitted to herself "I've backed myself into a corner, and there really is no one else to blame but myself. Jungkook might've pressured me into this but the choice was ultimately mine, and I chose wrong" so she knows that she fucked up.

This might've not been something that you read or noticed but she does think about these things and has been for years. Sometimes it's easy to put the blame on someone else so it would be seen that way but she is self aware it's just hard for her to have Jungkook around and throwing things in her face.

He might've seemed very manipulative at the beginning but he caught her at a time where she was feeling vulnerable and desperate and so people sometimes don't make the best decisions when they're in that sort of headspace and Jungkook knew that and used it to his advantage.

She didn't make those decisions "unconsciously" because she knew exactly why she said yes and therefore knew that although this wasn't the right thing to do it would be the easiest way for everyone to get what they wanted. And just like the title of part three says "I Did It For You" and thought of how much pressure this would take off of him.

Although people might've been able to say no to him some people might've said yes. There were multiple factors to this story and sometimes people aren't as strong willed as some others are. She's all talk at this point because of the fact that she doesn't want her husband to find out.

Not because of the fact that she doesn't want people to know what she's done (ofc that is a factor in it) but because she really truly does love her husband and she knows just how much this will shatter him and she doesn't want to see that happen and that's why it went on for so long.

People think differently and that's what makes life and stories more interesting because if we all thought and felt the same way then things wouldn't be all that interesting and very predictable.

I mean he definitely gets hit on and flirts with other women but he does have self control. In Drabble 1 he says "Darling it's your fault, you've ruined sex for me with other women. Nothing about them compares to you" so he doesn't find pleasure in it anymore because he's 1) obsessed with her and 2) obsessed with the power trip and how he can have her as much as he wants as long and she still wants to keep this all a secret.

Like you said he's emotionally invested in oc and so he feels like theres' no point if it's not with her.

In terms of divorce there's no real reason why anyone with need to know that he's the father. It might be something that comes out later but as far as the public knows he's still just their grandfather.

There are a lot of dirty secrets in high society that no one finds out about and couples get divorced all the time and it's not seen as uncommon these days so it's not taboo.

Plus the secret could still come out whether she was still married to her husband or not. The people that she wanted to keep the secret from already know so she doesn't care if it goes to the press if that's the only way to get away from them.

If anything that would be the best way that she could get her revenge and Jungkook at that point would see the divorce as necessary because what person in their right mind would go around keeping the family together once everyone knows the truth.

Oc doesn't want revenge though because she's not like that and she wants to keep her kids out of the press as much as possible and doesn't want people to treat them any differently.

Will it put a ding in the families reputation if she tells everyone? Sure but Jungkook doesn't have the power to nor have the desire to stop the divorce. Jungkook's manipulation stops when he loses oc.

He's not someone who wants to get revenge on someone in this situation because although he lost her, this is something he's always gonna be able to hold over her head and that's humiliation enough.

No one needs to LET oc do anything because this isn't the dark ages and woman decide what they can and cannot do. He wouldn't lock her in a dungeon and hold her captive because if he did then her mother in law would be the one to go to the press.

Her mother in law is actually very understanding and keeps in contact with oc throughout all of this. Even though what oc did was majorly fucked up her mother in law knows Jungkook and what he's capable of and understands why she did it.

Although you think they'll get caught by the husband that's not what happens.

It might be seen that in that situation her husband was being irresponsible but people make mistakes plus he was being run ragged and this time he didn't want to put in the effort to make things right even though he knew there would be consequences.

He honestly saw this as a way he could majorly fuck up so Jungkook would stop making him go on so many trips. Like who wouldn't be upset that he has to leave his wife and kids all the time? He truly loves them and wants to be there for them all the time and be there for those important milestones.

This was a way to kind of push back and wanted to seem like he was incompetent and that Jungkook needed to find someone else to do that kind of work for him. Someone who might be seen as more capable and qualified. It didn't end up working out that was because Jungkook just assigned an additional colleague to help him so it wouldn't happen again.

It's not his son's fault that he couldn't have kids so let's just get that part out of the way. Just because one slip up was mentioned doesn't mean that that's how he handles things all the time. The reason why he's sent on all of these trips is because he's successful and does convince a lot of clients to sign.

It would be way too suspicious to everyone in the company and be way to obvious and confusing to her husband if he was shit at his job was still was sent to go take care of extremely important matters and sign big clients pretty much monthly in most cases. Like he would give the company a horrible reputation if he was that "so deficient at everything"

Creating heirs is important for a corporate family so it wouldn't have mattered if his son was competent or incompetent, it's something that needed to happen anyways. Of course you want your heirs to be better. Who would want to hand over your legacy to someone who can't do their job or improve upon the company? The goal is to make things bigger and better so therefore you need your successors to be better than the one that came before him.

Saying that Jungkook would go so far as to murder someone does not match his character at all. He's manipulative and if he had those murderous tendencies he definitely would've made that known and gotten his son out of the way a long time ago.

No Jungkook's youngest son won't be like him. Just like Jungkook's first son his mother will be raising him right so that won't be happening. He's more or the artsy easy going, kind hearted type of guy but he will put on that suit and tie and take over the company when the time comes if his sister doesn't want the company instead.

That situation is something that you're allowed to make up ofc but as the writer I can tell you that that doesn't happen. It would be crazy but it doesn't fit well with the storyline and no theres no possibility of a third child.

She realistically CAN leave and she DOES but she knows full well that she'll still have dealings with the family since she does indeed have 50/50 custody of the children.

Again I appreciate the analysis but next time think about the way that you're phrasing things and just because you think something is wrong doesn't mean that it is. We're all entitled to our own opinion but telling the writer of the story that they wrote it wrong is majorly disrespectful.

I feel like you were creating a whole different story with the way you were talking about it 🤷🏻‍♀️

[sanctamater]

looking at lady comstock, booker wonders if love has always been about sacrifice. columbia’s doctrine made it seem so: the prophet renounced his home for its creation, the twin luteces gave up their lives for its advancement. none have sacrificed—nor loved—as much as its sainted mother. 

to the tower, she sacrificed her child. to her husband, she sacrificed her liberty. 

booker looks at the string of pearls hung like a noose around her neck. to her marriage, she sacrificed her voice. 

booker thought, once, that he was nobly sacrificing the chance to raise his child. he knows now it was not an act of love, but of cowardice. 

he’s not a coward anymore. he offers a hand to the sainted mother, a gesture as inviting as it is beseeching. he cannot traverse comstock house alone—booker needs its lady. “this city has taken so much from you,” his voice does not break so much as it is already broken. “take something back.”  / from @dewitless … thinkin about amelia joining the group a lot lately

the prophet had said that the false shepherd would come with fire. that he would come with guns and knives and blood and teeth. that he would slay any man, woman, or child in the pursuit of the lamb of god until the streets ran red. the prophet had said many things - all of them had been wrong. our lady knows that now. she knows it, she does - knows it as surely as she knows the sun moves through the horizon twice in a day - as surely as she knew this would all end in blood and ash and fire. jezebel had been thrown to the dogs for giving entry to a false prophet - what lay in wait for our lady of sorrows? 

brimstone. damnation. sweet sinner, do i not speak for god? did he not ask me to raise you from perdition? that liar's tongue, that snake's voice - she cannot shake it from her mind, even now - even here; and a part of our lady worries that she will always hear his voice in her ear no matter the tear, the timeline, the door. but she knows that the prophet lies. it has to count for something. it must - or she would not be here; stripped of her finery - left with the others who had to learn obedience again; had to learn to love the prophet. our lady hates him. hates him. hates him so much she thinks she might be sick with it. hates him enough to set fire to this infernal place; to put anything and everything his hands had ever touched to the torch - even herself.

there's gunfire in the halls. it can't be outside - she'd been hearing it for days; and now, all had grown suspiciously quiet. the vox must be making their last stand. must be, for who else could it be? god, at least have the kindness to make it quick. more gunfire, loud as anything - hands over her ears; back to the wall - our lady takes a breath, and when she closes her eyes, she is back in the white washed walls of the church of her youth; hand in her grandmother's; the lord's prayer upon their lips. save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil. yelling, then - more gunfire. our lady takes a breath, feels something other than the holy spirit stirring in her lungs.

and then, silence.

the door opens; metal creaking and grinding - and the light is blinding - for a moment, and just a moment, all our lady can hear is the frantic sound of her own heartbeat - chest rising and falling rapidly. but the gunshot never comes - and the silence drags instead; and the figure is neither founder nor anarchist - it cannot be, can it?

our lady swears she remembers the false shepherd’s eyes. bottle green and deep like a river. she swears she remembers many things when she looks upon him - knows she’d danced, or had she? there’d been laughter; and his hands had been rough and warm against her waist - there’d always been liquor on his mouth when he’d kissed her, or; no - not kissed her; but he had - he had - and she hadn’t been at that bar, had she? not then, not then - no, no - her head turns sidelong sharply; muscles in her neck twitching - the artery exposed, all livewire. 

she remembers what she remembers, after all - and our lady remembers him. 

“ i - “ there’s blood upon her lips. in her mouth. sharp and metallic - iron flooding her senses at the steady stream that flows from her nose as she looks to his hand - not as gnarled as the prophet had told her it would be; but not clean, either. our lady knows no one here has clean hands - lest of all she.

i’ve taken your hand before. 

it hangs, unsaid - her words thick in her mouth. i’ve been here before. we have been here before. her head is full of white noise - but she’s been here before. or will be. or had been. it doesn’t matter. 

“ i am so tired of taking, false shepherd. “ she does not know his name. our lady is sure she’s heard it from the mouths of strangers, but she does not know his name - or perhaps she did. or will she? he is the only still thing in the room to her - hand outstretched still. take something back, he’d said. there was nothing left for her here - but there was elizabeth. her elizabeth. she’d abandoned her child to the wolves once - not again. never again. and there was him. perhaps there had always been him. 

and as our lady had in so many, many worlds - amelia takes his hand. 

[nadiasna7]

Draco’s coming out story

Draco began to suspect that something was wrong with him in his fourth year. The talks about girls suddenly became more and more frequent in the Slytherin common room. Draco didn't see the point of them. Of course, it was their duty to marry and produce an heir. But no one was obliged to perform any feelings. This was a marriage of convenience, everyone understood that.

In the fifth year, things got even more confusing. Pansy suddenly joined in the gossips about girls. Draco decided to stick to the opinion that his classmates simply exaggerated everything to appear more mature. He didn't need it, he knew other, more effective ways to do so. Pansy once hinted that with the amount of time and attention Draco was giving Potter, it looked more like falling in love. Draco certainly didn't blush at that. Malfoys don't blush! Pansy just didn't understand that he and Potter were sworn enemies. It was only natural that Draco paid so much attention to him. One always need to keep an eye on one’s rival.

Neither during the sixth nor the seventh year Draco had enough time or energy to think about his proclivities. Occasionally, though, he found himself hoping. But for what? That Saint Potter would once again save everyone, and perhaps even Draco? That if he did make some mistakes, then Potter would fix them? It was stupid. But sometimes you were allowed dream.

As Draco felt callused hands pluck the wands from his clenched fist, he realized that his foolish dreams had taken root. He wanted Potter to get it over with. He believed he could. And he continued to, clinging to Potter with all his might as the Fiendfyre raged behind them. They kept saving each other. That's probably not what sworn enemies did. But that's what they did.

When the war ended, and the court finally acquitted him and his mother, Draco realized that he didn't want to marry. He didn't want to follow his father's example, he didn't want to be a model pureblood son who would produce an equally model child. And it wasn't just about abandoning tradition, no. Draco finally accepted that he had never liked girls. But he liked guys. Especially in the Quidditch uniform. Especially in the Gryffindor colors and absolutely awful glasses. It was... A relief. To finally admit that to himself.

What wasn't a relief, though, was having to confess to Narcissa. Draco had no idea how to tell her about it. Of course, he could simply call off the engagement. But at the same time, he wanted to be honest. He went to the weekly Sunday tea at the manor as if it were an execution. His legs wouldn't obey him at all, his mouth was dry. The closer he got to the door, the more his hands shook. He had never felt such terror, not even when Voldemort lived under the same roof as him.

Narcissa realized the gravity of the moment as soon as she looked at Draco. She gently suggested that they sit down and wait for the tea to brew. But Draco hardly heard her. Blood was pounding in his ears so loudly that his eardrums seemed ready to burst at any second. He was helplessly opening and closing his mouth, trying in vain to start a dialogue. Narcissa smiled reassuringly, and Draco couldn't bear it anymore. He dropped to his knees in front of her, burying his face in her skirt as he used to do as a child when he was upset or scared.

He mumbled barely coherent sentences, constantly breaking into sobs, and begged for forgiveness for not being the son his mother had dreamed of. Narcissa didn't say anything, just tenderly stroked his hair. When Draco had recovered a little, she gently lifted his tear-red face and looked him straight in the eye, telling Draco that his happiness was the only thing she had ever dreamed of. And if Draco was happier with a man, she didn’t mind at all. 

Outside the manor, the sun came out from behind the clouds and lit up the garden. Draco's head was still resting on his mother's lap, but they were both smiling now. It’s the first part of a series. I think I’ll draw a new comic episode and then come back to this story. I made you wait for way too long. 

I hope that if you ever feel the need to come out, it will go smoothly and you will be immediately accepted. However, you’re not obligated to tell anyone anything. It’s your life! Draco just wanted to be open about his queerness with his mother because he kept it to himself for a long time. 

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, nor promoting mafia behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Suggestive themes but nothing too explicit, scenes containing violence and kidnappings.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong could already sense that something was off the moment he noticed the door wasn't locked and even more worrying was the fact it was slightly ajar. Quickly taking out his gun just in case, he kicked open the door and widened his eyes as it appeared like some struggle took place. Chairs were turnt over, busted picture frames and glass scattered across the floor, and even more terrifying, droplets of blood were seen.

"Y/N!" He quickly remembered about his spouse.

Running into the bedroom, it was in an even bigger disarray than the living room. On the bed, there was a note folded for him to read. Carefully opening it with trembling hands, his eyes took in each letter. Furiously, he crumbled up the paper and quickly dialed his most trusted friend.

"Get the squad ready."

Although you expected that sooner or later you'd be targeted just for the fact you were married to Hongjoong, nothing could have prepared you for it. After all, Hongjoong didn't seem to care much about you, treating your marriage strictly like a business deal and hardly interacting with you. It wouldn't have surprised you if he didn't even care enough to show up and save you.

But you were wrong when he broke in himself and got you safely out of there, despite having suffered quite a few injuries that had you worrying.

"Stop fretting over it, it's just a scratch." He told you when you tried to wipe the blood trickling down the side of his head wound.

"I'm sorry......you're hurt because I-"

"No one is to blame here but me. I chose to go after you and rescue you because I wanted to. If anything, I should be apologizing for getting you in this situation in the first place."

Sighing softly, you tugged at the dirtied sleeves of your shirt.

"It's not like it's really your fault. We were thrown together and naturally they thought they could get the upper hand if they captured me. And to be honest.....you didn't have to save me. I know you don't care about-"

With a loud gasp, you shut up when Hongjoong unexpectedly sat up and kissed you. You were stunned to react and even more shocked by his next words.

"I always cared. And that's precisely why you were kidnapped. From the start, I acted as if I didn't care about you to protect you. They would have never taken you if they thought that I had no regards for you whatsoever. However, I obviously couldn't hide my feelings that well, given the taunting letter they left me. As soon as I read it, I knew I had to get you back to me as soon as possible."

Kissing the top of your forehead, Hongjoong smiled at you for the first time in your marriage life.

"And I'm happy to take you back to our home, where you rightfully belong."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Putting the finishing touches on your makeup and fixing your hair, you beamed with joy at your reflection in the mirror. You felt truly beautiful and walked out into the living room, where your handsome husband was currently on his phone, no doubt talking about some business things with Hongjoong. He seemed to always be busy, never having any time for anything else.

Including you, which somewhat hurt you.

"I'm ready." You told him, shyly tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you hoped he'd like the dress you were wearing, choosing a blue color since you knew it was his favorite.

"Ok. Go wait out in the limousine, I'll be there shortly."

Barely even giving you a glance, he dialed Hongjoong up and continued to further discuss some matters. Sighing softly, you walked rather disappointed out to the car, slamming the door behind you. When Seonghwa joined you a few minutes later, you didn't even care to hide your anger and frustration at him. You still had a scowling look on your face when you arrived at the party, not bothering this time to stick by Seonghwa's side like you usually did other times, playing the role of a perfect and loving wife. And Seonghwa neither noticed nor cared about it. In fact, he never really hid how little your marriage seemed to matter to him. Perhaps he treated it as any other business he owned.

"Such a pity to see such a beautiful lady look so down during such a lovely evening."

Recognizing the voice as Minho, a friend of Seonghwa, you forced a small smile.

"Not really much to be happy about really." You merely stated.

"Is your oh so loving hubby being the usual prince charming he is?" He rolled his eyes, knowing full well just like everyone else how he really treated you.

"What difference does it make? He'll never even look at me."

Unable to let the opportunity go to waste, even if it was his friend, Minho gently caressed your cheek.

"You know....... maybe you should stop trying so hard for a jerk like him....and maybe open your eyes to someone who actually knows you exist."

You were frozen when he leaned in to kiss you, then gasped loudly when none other than Seonghwa pushed him off you, sending Minho crashing onto one of the tables behind him.

"She is my wife! And the next time you touch her, I will cut your hand off!" He warned him.

You didn't even have time to process what was happening as Seonghwa dragged you outside, his grip on your wrist tight and fierce. When you reached the car, you were going to ask him what was going on but you had no time as he pressed you against the car and began to kiss you fervently and hungrily. You were left speechless and breathless, with your legs getting weak as he let out low snarls in between his kisses on your neck.

"Mine.......you're all mine."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Both Yunho and you were beyond nervous at this point, hell you actually felt somewhat terrified. You knew exactly what his parents wanted when they organized this 'family vacation'. This wasn't a getaway to spend time together and they made it obviously clear at dinner when you came back from the bathroom and overheard him arguing with his parents.

"You know I can't ask her to do that!" Yunho adamantly said.

"You've been married for over a year Yunho. It's time and you know it." His mother insisted.

"I will not impregnate her. Have you ever considered her feelings? Maybe she doesn't want kids. Maybe I don't want kids, have you ever thought of that?" He asked them, voice getting more agitated.

"It's both of your duties to produce heirs to keep control and stability in the organization. Your life is at risk on a daily basis. If you die with no children it'll only cause chaos and disruption." His father reminded him.

That was the one thing you dreaded facing since the day you said "I do", having to be forced to become nothing more than a baby maker. Yunho knew from the beginning how uncomfortable you were during your first night together, that's why he ended up sleeping in another room, as he had done every day afterwards, not wanting you to freak out and giving you your space.

But now you both stared at the single king sized bed in your hotel room, reality staring you in the face. Neither of you said a word as you took turns changing and getting ready to go to sleep in the bathroom, Yunho letting you go first. As you crept into the bed, your hands tightly held onto the blanket, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, unaware of anything until you felt the bed shift next to you. You inhaled sharply when you felt Yunho's fingers caress your hair.

"Y/N-"

"Just get it over with will you?! Just knock me up and make your parents happy. I don't care anymore."

Although you tried to sound strong, the tremble in your voice gave you away. You could feel tears starting to well up in your eyes. When Yunho moved to hover above you, you instantly shut your eyes, tears lightly spilling out. You could feel his breath ghost over your lips and then suddenly they moved as he planted the gentlest of kiss on your forehead.

"Good night my dear. I promise I won't take up too much space."

Confused you open your eyes and watched as Yunho turned on his side, facing away from you as he scooted to give you as much room as he possibly could.

"I don't...I don't understand why..." You didn't even know what you were asking at this point.

"I'm not going to be that asshole that will make you do something you're not prepared for. I respect, value and admire you too much to make you go through that. I'll just wait until you're ready."

You weren't going to deny that your heart fluttered at his words.

"But your parents-"

"They can suck it. I've lived this long, I think I'll be fine. They can wait like I'm willing to wait. The only downside is putting up with their bullshit and nagging for disobeying them...."

You could tell he was falling asleep by the way his voice started to mumble and lower in tone, and his tiny yawn made it more obvious. You were prepared for his cute tiny rambling but you didn't expect what he said next.

"But that's what I get for falling in love with you..."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang stared out the spacious window of his office, the glittering city lights looking as splendid as they did every night, bustling with sounds of the inhabitants coming out to party and overall enjoy life. They seemed to be mocking him, mocking him for being happy while he felt miserable and empty inside.

It had been hours since you had already left, your plane had probably already landed back to your hometown and you were now ready to settle into your new life....away from him. He couldn't stop replaying the argument you had just a day ago:

"Can't you at least pretend to care?" You spat out, dropping your fork against the plate of food in front of you.

"If you know what I'm like, why even ask?" Was his only reply.

"Yes I know what you're like! You're cold, stoic, soulless and have no regards for anyone's feelings but your own! Being married to you all these years, I know you better than anyone! But I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you not caring enough to even try." She could feel her voice starting to crack.

Letting out a deep sigh, Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"From the beginning, you knew what you were getting in to. We didn't get married because we were a couple of lovestruck fools wanting to vow our lives to each other. Our parents arranged it and we had no choice. If you were stupid enough to catch feelings well then..."

Finally lifting his gaze to look at you, his eyes were unwavering as he coldly declared:

"That's not my fault. And you can't expect me to reciprocate your feelings when I don't even have any to begin with."

Not taking anymore, you began crying tears of heartbreak, anger, frustration and indignation all at the same time. Standing up, you firmly declared your intent of going back home, not willing to put up or stay with him anymore.

"Ok."

Not even a goodbye, a farewell or even another look at you. Those were his final words before you stormed out and made preparations to leave as soon as possible. Yeosang had spent the entire day pacing back and forth, unable to think or do anything except look at the clock almost every hour. He had been counting the seconds since your flight was scheduled to leave, that's how he knew you were home by then.

He cursed himself for being a coward. For not speaking up and telling you how much you actually meant to him, how scared he was of his feelings for you, and most of all, he hated himself for not running out to stop you. Now you were gone from his life forever........ unless....

"Get my plane ready."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San and you didn't even meet each other until you were both standing at the altar, families ready to join together two criminal organizations to grow their power even further. Both of you looked at each and instantly felt what the other was feeling: shock, denial, insecurity, but most of all, fear. Both of you were afraid of what was going to happen. Though he was trembling just as much as you, San made sure to reach for your hand, squeezing it in his own. With that small gesture, you knew and felt what he was silently saying:

"We're going to get through this together. Just trust me and believe in me. I'll take care of you. You're not alone in this and I'll be right there by your side."

You two got along fairly well, even if there was still awkwardness between the two of you. You were both also still shy around each other that you wouldn't talk unless it was necessary or because something caught one or the other's attention and wanted to share their thoughts out loud, which the other one would try to enthusiastically add on to converse more, but it always ended in awkward laughter.

Yeah. It was extremely awkward. But at least there was no hostility between you two and you guys did enjoy watching movies together at times, hardly speaking a word, but there was no silence at all. You could read each other's minds and feelings all the time. It was truly strange how in tune your thoughts seemed to be at times and scary too. Your mind began to recall times when strange things happened like the time you were craving a certain food and coincidentally, San came later with the exact same food because he got a feeling you wanted some. Or the time you were supposed to go visit extended family but in the end didn't get on the train and went straight home because you felt San needed you. He thought you were crazy, but later that night he was burning up with a fever and you spent your weekend nursing him back to health.

"What did this all mean?" You both thought to yourselves.

"A soulmate is someone that just gets you. It's a connection of minds, a mutual respect, an unconditional love and a total understanding. It's about being yourself and knowing, not only that person is following and understanding your thoughts, but is right there with you, side by side." The actress in the movie you were watching said.

Suddenly everything seemed to click. At the moment both of you felt like the answer to your questions were finally answered. Slowly you both turned and faced one another. Giving you a warm smile as he read your thoughts, San leaned in to cup your cheek with one hand, his thumb drawing circles around it. Brushing his lips against yours, he sighed blissfully as he looked in your eyes.

"My lovely soulmate..."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

When Mingi met you, he was sort of put off by how different you were from him.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, your soon to be wife but please don't think of me as that if you don't want to. Think of me as your friend. I just know we'll get along!"

You were actually squealing and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, almost bouncing up and down with joy while Mingi just stood there stiff as a pole, wondering what the hell made you be so happy and cheerful like that.

"Ok.....ok got it, you can let go now." He tried to squirm out of your embrace, but you merely tightened your grip on him causing him to let out a harsh "oof!" at your strength.

"For such a tiny person, you sure aren't weak." He pointed out.

Married life with you for Mingi was...... different to say the least. He was used to such a gloomy, dark and hostile environment that having a tiny bubble bursting with energy was unusual and not something he was accustomed to. You always greeted him with such enthusiasm and happiness, not to mention you were such a caring housewife, always feeding him and taking care of him. Sometimes Mingi questioned whether you've ever seen the harsh side of the mafia world. Judging by your love for life and others, he guessed no.

And his assumptions were correct when you both were at a party held by some of his other mafia friends. Taking advantage of the occasion, rival gangs infiltrated the building. Storming in, explosions went off in several places, and gun shots were being fired at all directions. Mingi quickly jumped up and tackled you onto the ground, covering your body from the bullets that were being poured out. Taking your hand, he told you to stay down as he safely guided you out of the hall. Once you guys were far away, he quickly sprung up, pulling you up with him as he began running towards the nearest exit, pulling out his hidden gun just in case. You were in shock, even more when you guys passed a couple of dead bodies in the hallway. Feeling sick, you don't even remember how Mingi managed to get you both out of there alive and in one piece before the entire place burst into flames. Staring at the raging fire, you felt like you couldn't breathe, desperately trying to gasp for air.

"Honey, look at me. Look at me ok? You're safe. You're all right and you're going to be all right. Nothing is going to happen to you ok?"

You nodded, trying to choke back tears and forcing a smile on your face, but ultimately failing. Seeing you break down, Mingi immediately pulled you into his arms, his fingers running through your hair as he felt his heart break. You were such a fragile, sensitive and extremely precious person to him. He couldn't bear to see his ray of sunshine and hope in his dark world break down in front of him. He knew had to protect you at all costs and take care of you.

"It's ok my darling angel. I won't let any harm come to you. I swear on my life I'll protect you."

Wiping your tears away, he kissed the top of your head and smiled warmly at you.

"Come on. I'll take you home and have one of those cuddling sessions you always enjoy having."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

You wanted to die, and that wasn't an understatement. You felt utterly humiliated at the fact your parents actually sold you into marriage to some mafia lord's son to pay off their debts. You didn't even have time to process anything, one day you were just bound and stuffed into the back of a car and soon found yourself inside a grand old mansion. You felt alone and scared, unsure of what was going to happen to you. And you were beyond trembling when you met your future husband, expecting some evil and sadistic man when in reality:

"Hi! I'm Jung Wooyoung, your soon to be husband and I can tell we're going to be really happy together!"

He greeted you with just a charismatic enthusiasm, eyes practically beaming when he first saw you.

"Hi, I'm L/N Y/N, the girl that's going to be caged to you for life......or death. Whichever comes first."

He laughed at that, coming closer and squeezed your cheeks.

"You're so cute, I'm already in love with you."

Love? You seriously thought he was insane. You certainly didn't fall in love with him at first sight. And even after months of being married to him, you still didn't felt love towards him, even though Wooyoung tried anything and everything to not only make life easier for you, but in hopes of getting you to reciprocate his feelings.

"Hey Y/N. Look! I got you a present! Open it. I know you'll love it."

You groaned at the thought of another expensive present being given to you. You felt bad that he went through all these troubles when they'd all end in vain. Peeling the ribbon off the huge box, you didn't even get to open the box since the Welsh Corgi inside jumped out and tackled you to the ground. You couldn't help but giggle when it began licking your face, its tail wagging out of joy.

"I knew you'd like him. Now he can keep you company so you won't be lonely while I'm gone."

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't let the opportunity pass to poke fun at him.

"Who said I was even going to miss you?" You chuckled, petting the dog's head.

"You never know." Wooyoung insisted.

Leaving you for 5 months, you couldn't believe you actually started to miss his obnoxiously loud presence. Sure your puppy kept you complaining and cuddled you, but it wasn't the same. You hated to admit it....

But you actually wanted Wooyoung to come back and smother you with what you always referred to as his annoying affection.

Opening the front door, Wooyoung called out that he was home. He smiled when he was greeted by his furry friend rather enthusiastically. But he was not expecting for you to run out and jump at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Although he stumbled slightly, he made sure to catch you, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"Y/N are you-?"

He widened his eyes when you crashed your lips on his, kissing him as if your life depended on it. Once getting over the shock, he had a smug grin as he kissed you back.

"Told you you'd miss me."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho terrified you. From day one, you were intimidated by him. He always had a blank expression, hardly talked and he had a reputation for being brutally strong. Obviously you felt like you were walking on eggshells around him, afraid to piss him off. Anytime he called out to you or came near you, your body would jump.

"Y/N..."

Shrieking, you turned around when you felt his hand brush against your lower back. Tilting his head, he raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

"I needed something from the cabinet."

Without breaking eye contact, his hands gripped your waist as he slightly moved you to the side, fingers digging into your skin. After having gotten what he wanted, his thumb poked your nose as he winked at you.

"Thanks doll."

You swore he was teasing you. He'd purposefully use any occasion to show off his strength to you, his favorite being cutting up wood in the yard with an axe. You couldn't help but stare at his arms that were visible due to him wearing a sleeveless shirt. When he noticed you staring, he sent a smug smile your way which caused you to blush and you immediately retreated back inside the house.

There was also the time he accidentally walked in on you changing. There you were, standing in nothing but your lacy underwear set, for some reason not embarrased or hiding yourself as Jongho inhaled deeply as his eyes raked your body. Subtly biting his lips, he apologized before reluctantly leaving the room.

Both of you were frustrated by that point, tired of the light teasing. Jongho was the one who decided to put a stop to it one night he came home from a mission. He had been badly hurt and you, worrying about him, sat him down to tend to his wounds. It was a struggle since he had to remove his shirt and you were blushing violently, eyes always looking away.

"It's ok doll. I'm your husband...you can look at me."

His hands that were holding onto your arms began caressing your elbows, subtly pulling you closer to him without you noticing until you were firmly planted on his lap.

"Do you want me my little doll?" He asked you, voice in a low whisper as his breath fanned over your lips.

"Cause I've wanted you since the first day I laid my eyes on you."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

The Fundamentals of Gendrya

So I just want to establish the possible foreshadowing Arya and Gendry have that hints at a possible romantic relationship in the future, as well as the romantic undertones present in their story.  I’m not really going to focus on symbolism in this meta (although it will come up a couple of times in a minor way), as that will be a focus for future meta.  This is only meant to establish the fundamental basics.

First I want to say that when I’m talking about the romantic possibility of Gendrya, I mean future Gendrya, as in once Arya is older.  However I will posit and say that because we are viewing this in the world of Westeros (in a pseudo Medieval world that GRRM exaggerated and sensationalized from real Medieval sources as well as rumor) and because GRRM has established he has no problems with placing his younger characters in romantic or sexual situations (see Mercy TWOW) I think it would be remiss to think GRRM would not take Arya and Gendry here if that was his plan all along.  After all, there is plenty of precedent.  

This also leads me to remind everyone that Gendry is not an adult when he meets Arya, and the age gap between the two is one of the least egregious age gaps in the books as most of the age gaps are between adult men in their 20’s and 30’s with 12-16 year old girl’s.  I think a lot of people think of the age gap as Arya being 9 the whole time and Gendry being 16, but this is in fact wrong.  According to the timeline, Arya and Gendry meet at the beginning of 299 AC, right around Arya’s 10th birthday.  In 299 AC Gendry was only 13/14 years old.  He was born in 284 AC and is not the same age as Robb and Jon, like Ned surmises.  Gendry is just big for his age, and it’s highly likely Gendry doesn’t even know how old he is.  When Arya and Gendry separate in ASOS Arya is almost 11 while Gendry is 14/15 years old.  

Regardless, this is fiction, and doesn’t reflect real world morals.  So what I’m getting at is that if anyone disagrees with this meta because of their ages I suggest you don’t read any further.

Foreshadowing

Our first hint of foreshadowing happens in Arya’s very first chapter:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls.  Sansa's needlework was exquisite.  Everyone said so.  “Sansa's work is as pretty as she is,” Septa Mordane told their lady mother once.  “She has such fine, delicate hands.”  When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed.  “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.” - Arya I AGOT

This quote is later followed up with:

[...] “I ruined that gown Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good.”  She chewed her lip.  “I don't sew very well, I mean.  Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.”

Gendry hooted.  “Those soft little things,” he called out.  “You couldn't even hold a hammer.” - Arya VII ASOS

In the same book Lem Lemoncloak says this to Gendry:

“You must be a lackwit, boy,” said Lem.  “We're outlaws.  Lowborn scum, most of us, except for his lordship.  Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither.  You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor.  You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.” - Arya VII ASOS

At this point Arya is indeed a princess, but Lem also makes an obvious reference (to the audience) to the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which I think we can safely say was Lyanna.  The fact that Lyanna is Arya’s literary mirror, tells me we can connect Arya to Lem’s comment, not to mention the inclusion of “princess” just kind of seals the deal.  We also know that Arya is the spitting image of Lyanna and Gendry the spitting image of Robert Baratheon.  I think it’s worth noting also that after Acorn Hall, Lem takes it upon himself to make sure nothing untoward happens between Arya and Gendry (he thought Gendry was taking advantage of Arya after they wrestled) as he starts sleeping in between them, which is seen in Arya V ASOS when they are at The Peach.  Lem saying “Don’t think it’ll be like Tom’s fool songs neither” is also interesting because at Acorn Hall we specifically get Tom singing a love song directed towards Arya and Gendry.

Speaking of Lyanna and Robert being reflections of Arya (in both appearance and personality) and Gendry (in appearance for the most part) this is said in Eddard I AGOT:

We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done."

Now this quote may be referring to Sansa and Joffrey, but I do think it’s foreshadowing for Gendrya and this is just a misdirect.  After all, Joffrey is not Robert Baratheon’s son by blood, but Gendry is, even though he is illegitimate.  To me this also sounds like a promise.  When you think about it, the story truly begins at the Tourney of Harrenhal with the events that broke the betrothal between Lyanna and Robert, so it would be very cyclical for the ending to do what the beginning could not, binding a Stark and a Baratheon together in marriage.

There are also several references about Arya marrying an apprentice/blacksmith:

“[...] Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you.  Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire.” - Arya II AFFC

We also have a comment made by Jaime:

“Not all,” said Jaime.  “Lord Eddard's daughters live.  One has just been wed.  The other...”  Brienne, where are you?  Have you found her?  “...if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark.  She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall.” - Jaime I ADWD

Now I know what you are going to say, that Jaime is referring to Sansa possibly marrying a blacksmith or innkeep, but if it weren’t for Jaime’s thought’s in the middle towards Brienne, you’d never guess which Stark daughter he is referring to because Sansa was only just recently married as well.  Also it’s Arya who is associated with a blacksmith (Gendry) and a fat-faced innkeep (Hot Pie).  So while Jaime is referring to Sansa here I think we are meant to actually look at the reality behind this and reverse the foreshadowing back onto Arya, because it wasn’t Arya who was recently wed, that was Sansa.  It’s also Arya who is legitimately trying to forget she was a Stark (Sansa isn’t trying to forget, she is only pretending to be Alayne to ensure her protection) and like I mentioned it’s Arya who had a blacksmith and future employee at an inn as companions for two novels.  So I think it’s a foreshadowing switcheroo.  And I think it’s also worth mentioning that while Jaime sent Brienne out to save Sansa, Brienne spends her whole journey almost exclusively hearing news and following leads about Arya.

There is also a reference in Brienne VII AFFC that makes mention that Arya may marry an apprentice boy:

Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants.

If she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them.  Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared.  The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.  Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny...could it be?  Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure about the color of her eyes.  Brown and brown, was that it?  Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?

*

“One day that little girl [Willow] will make some man a frightful wife,” Ser Hyle observed.  “That poor 'prentice boy [Gendry], most like.”

Willow is very obviously a Arya stand-in which makes this specific quote about Arya and Gendry, not Willow and Gendry.

Arya IV ASOS has the strongest case for future romantic Gendrya.  Not only does Gendry follow after Arya and invite her to look at the forge, Gendry opens up to her about his life right before he was uprooted, and does this:

Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.

Gendry is being playful and open with Arya during most of this scene in the forge, teasing her in a manner that verges on flirting, telling her a story about his past, laughing and having fun with Arya.  And then this happens:

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don't.  You stink.”  Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm.  She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy.  He was very strong, but she was quicker.  Every time he tried to hold her still she wiggled free and punched him.  Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad.  He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free.  Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress.  “I bet I don't look so nice now,” she shouted.

Gendry compliments Arya’s looks and scent, only for Arya to think he’s teasing her about her appearance due to her intense insecurity when it comes to highborn conformation (Gendry’s laugh when he first saw her didn’t help matters in her insecurity even though Gendry most likely only laughed out of being startled at her transformation).  This insecurity leads Arya into getting angry and starting a wrestling match with him.  This wrestling scene also directly follows Jaime and Brienne’s very sexually charged sword fight, and could also be interpreted as foreshadowing a romantic and potentially sexual relationship in the future, like theirs did, when they are older.  

Now I’m not saying that I think Gendrya is going to go NC-17 in the books, but I do think it’s likely to go PG-13 by the end of ADOS, considering we have precedent that GRRM has no qualms about writing these types of things as I mentioned above, and we know Arya is going to be 12 in TWOW and may be at least 14-15 when the series ends depending on how much GRRM can spread out the timeline in the next two books.  But considering the amount of stuff that needs to happen, I think the next two books will span 2-3 years before the epilogue begins.

Then there is the love song GRRM specifically wrote for Arya.  A song that has only appeared in one chapter, Arya’s chapter:

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

“And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

Now we know this song is about them because when Tom O’Sevens is singing it, he winks at Arya, and later Lady Smallwood specifically says to Arya “I have no gowns of leaves”.  The song specifically mentions yellow – a Baratheon color – and depicts the free spirited “Maiden of the Tree” who wants love on her own terms, which sounds like what an older, flowered version of Arya would want if she fell in love.

Romantic Undertones

Arya’s Crush

As she passed the armory, Arya heard the ring of a hammer. A deep orange glow shone through the high windows. She climbed to the roof and peeked down. Gendry was beating out a breastplate. When he worked, nothing existed for him but metal, bellows, fire. The hammer was like part of his arm. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he made. He's strong, she thought. As he took up the long-handled tongs to dip the breastplate into the quenching trough, Arya slithered through the window and leapt down to the floor beside him. - Arya IX ACOK

It’s very subtle but this paragraph tells us everything.  Arya unintentionally reveals in this quote that she watches Gendry blacksmithing enough to know that the world falls away when he’s in his element.  She watches the play of muscles in his back and notes how strong he is and even attaches poetic language to his work.  Arya has a crush on Gendry.  It’s not acknowledged and it’s likely she doesn’t understand it herself, but this seems to be the truth of it, especially with the way GRRM worded this.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read a romance where the protagonist studies their love interest while watching the “play of muscles” in their back or their arms.  It’s also interesting to note that Arya always mentions specifics about Gendry’s looks and notes details about him:

He blinked at her, startled. Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. "I'd hurt you." - Arya II ACOK

"It's me they want," Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. "You be quiet." - Arya II ACOK

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. - Arya VIII ACOK

"She's not alone." Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. - Arya II ASOS

Now most of these I’d normally chalk up to the author just being descriptive, but if that’s the case, why don’t we know more about Hot Pie’s looks, who Arya spent nearly a year with at the same time as Gendry?  Why does she take special time out to describe Gendry so much?  Honestly I think part of it is to keep reminding us that Gendry is a secret Baratheon bastard, but that doesn’t explain the first quote about Arya watching the “play of muscles” in his back and noting how strong he is.  So I think it’s a combination of GRRM wanting to remind the audience that Gendry is a Baratheon and to also subtly show us that Arya has an innocent crush on him, but doesn’t know or acknowledge that this is the case out loud.

Their Mutual Jealousy

Starting after the events of Acorn Hall in Arya IV ASOS, it’s obvious that something shifts in Arya and Gendry’s relationship.  One aspect is that Gendry can no longer ignore that Arya is indeed a highborn girl after seeing her for the first time dressed up as one.  He knows what class differences will mean for their friendship.  And another aspect, is that Gendry acknowledges that he may be romantically interested in Arya, or at least acknowledges the potential for those feelings to emerge in time.  And because of this, combined with their class differences, Gendry knows that if he follows Arya to Riverrun where her mother and brother are, he would end up watching Arya grow into someone he could romantically love, only for her to be torn away from him due to an arranged marriage.  Both of these aspects play a factor in why we see Gendry become more outwardly scathing towards highborns in the chapters following this and why his behavior seems to become one rife with jealousy.

In Arya V ASOS the Brotherhood Without Banners travel to The Peach and both of the above aspects I spoke of are present in this chapter:

"You don't even know what a brothel is."

"I do so," she insisted. "It's like an inn, with girls."

He was turning red again. "What are you doing here, then?" he demanded. "A brothel's no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that."

And when Gendry protects Arya from a pervert by saying that she’s his sister, this is what goes down:

"Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet. "You're not my brother."

"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."

Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it."

"Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."

Arya doesn’t really understand the intentions of the pervert, despite knowing of sex, and is confused on why Gendry would say that he’s her brother, but when she asks him, he takes it the wrong way since he is already so sensitive about their class differences at this point in their story.  That last paragraph is what makes this exchange really interesting though.  Why would Gendry say this, when it’s already made clear and established in this chapter that Gendry has no intentions of sleeping with any of the girls, even when it’s offered to him for free?  He is very obviously lying to try to get a rise out of Arya and the only way this makes sense is if we put it under a romantic lens.

Then we have this:

Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.

Now considering Arya’s defense mechanism (the mechanism that has her calling things or people stupid when she’s hurt or feeling inadequate by them to try to make the pain and hurt not seem so severe) the fact that she calls Gendry a “stupid bullheaded bastard boy” and proclaims Gendry ringing the bells of any girl was “nothing to her” tells us that it matters to her and that she’s upset.  This is further reiterated in Arya VIII ASOS:

Arya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. "My father had honor," she said angrily. "And we weren't talking to you anyway. Why don't you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl's stupid bells?"

So here we have Arya mention this three chapters later, likely weeks if not months later.  If Arya didn’t care about Gendry ringing “all the bells he wanted” then why is she still so hurt and jealous?  She’s obviously been stewing about this for a while.

In this same chapter we also see gems from Gendry that clearly proclaim that he’s still plagued about his class differences to Arya.  It also clearly shows that Gendry is jealous of Edric Dayne once Arya befriends him, especially since she befriended someone highborn, like her, who just so happens to be a boy who we know has nearly the same coloring as Rhaegar Targaryen, which evokes the history repeating motif that is present in Arya’s arc of the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert love triangle.

"You have a knife," Gendry suggested. "If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head."

He doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey. - Arya VIII ASOS

And

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. 

Gendry continues to encapsulate “ours is the fury” during Arya’s whole exchange with Edric Dayne.

I do want to add that I know Gendry’s class issues have always been there, and it’s definitely been made even more apparent to him during the War of the Five Kings during his time in the wartorn Riverlands with Arya, so it’s not exactly that far-fetched that Gendry may become even more sensitive and/or bitter about it.  However, this extremity of his behavior only happened after Acorn Hall where he saw Arya looking like the highborn girl she is.  And while I do believe part of Gendry’s increase of bitterness about their class differences does have to do with potential romantic feelings, I also think it has to do with Gendry also coming to terms with the fact that Arya’s family is also directly responsible for the carnage they have seen and experienced (even though he doesn’t blame Arya, as she seems to be one of Gendry’s exceptions when it comes to his dislike of the nobility).  If it weren’t for the blatant flirting on his behalf in the forge at Acorn Hall and the jealousy, I would honestly chalk it up to Gendry trying to reconcile his own trauma and anger regarding highborns, including Arya’s family’s sins, but alas, that is not completely the case.

Post Separation

When Arya is kidnapped by the Hound and witnesses the Red Wedding, Arya contemplates where she may go and this crosses her thoughts in a very romanticized light:

She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. - Arya XII ASOS

The fact that Arya follows this thought up with “that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream” tells us specifically what type of fantasy this is.  Arya isn’t fantasizing about an adventure, she’s fantasizing about love and romance, considering those are the types of flights of fancy Sansa always loses herself in.  Now Arya isn’t outright rejecting the possibility of romance here, because there is more to that second paragraph:

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.

She rejects the possibility because she remembers that Hot Pie and Gendry abandoned her as soon as they could, and that all the Brotherhood did was use her, according to her perspective on the matter.  And her perspective is entirely skewed because of her abandonment and low self-esteem issues, as well as not fully understanding the class issues as she honestly didn’t think that bringing Hot Pie and Gendry to Riverrun and Winterfell would cause any issues with their friendships, which is understandable for a kid to think.  Especially one that hadn’t been in the highborn world for the past year and a half.  In fact, Medieval children in the real world and in the books, weren’t reprimanded for playing together regardless of class, usually the highborn children played with the children of those who worked and lived within the castle walls, from other lords children to stewards children to the helps children.  It’s just something children did until they reached a certain age where it just wasn’t allowed anymore.  So it’s only natural for this not to really factor into Arya’s plans.

When Arya is about to walk into the House of Black and White, Arya comforts her fear with a memory of Gendry:

Suddenly she was somewhere else . . . back in Harrenhal with Gendry [...] - Arya I AFFC

Which indicates that Gendry is still very much on her mind at this point.  I think it really says something as well that Arya takes comfort from a memory at Harrenhal of all places.  I think this indicates how much comfort she took from their friendship.  I also think she doesn’t think about Gendry with the Brotherhood to take her comfort because while ASOS has the most romantic foreshadowing for them and the two shared some nice moments, it was also the start of them truly fracturing, or so her unreliable narration interpreted it as.  After all, she actually thought that Gendry was making fun of her looks at Acorn Hall, and she thought Gendry didn’t want to be her friend anymore as he “abandoned her” for the Brotherhood.  So while Harrenhal was awful and they had their disagreements there, Arya still felt reassured with his companionship and likely found it uncomplicated in comparison to her other problems at the time.

*

When we next see Gendry in Brienne VII AFFC we see a drastically different Gendry.  While Gendry has always been guarded and sullen with a chip on his shoulder, with little love for the nobility, this change is drastic enough where it’s unsettling to read at first.  Not only is Gendry just flat out rude in a very mean way but he is filled with rage.  Gendry joined the Brotherhood because he liked how they handled justice, but under Lady Stoneheart there is no justice and he doesn’t seem to mind.  His beliefs have shifted as well.

And though his eyes had been that same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion.

Septon Meribald asked if he might lead the children in a grace, ignoring the small girl crawling naked across the table. "Aye," said Willow, snatching up the crawler before she reached the porridge. So they bowed their heads together and thanked the Father and the Mother for their bounty . . . all but the black-haired boy from the forge, who crossed his arms against his chest and sat glowering as the others prayed. Brienne was not the only one to notice. When the prayer was done Septon Meribald looked across the table, and said, "Do you have no love for the gods, son?"

"Not for your gods." Gendry stood abruptly. "I have work to do." He stalked out without a bite of food.

Gendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating on a sword as if he wished it were a foe [...]

What would a knight be doing working at a smithy? "You have black hair and blue eyes, and you were born in the shadow of the Red Keep. Has no one ever remarked upon your face?"

"What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours."

Lord Renly was ahead of her, her sweet smiling king. He was leading her horse through the trees. Brienne called out to tell him how much she loved him, but when he turned to scowl at her, she saw that he was not Renly after all. Renly never scowled. He always had a smile for me, she thought . . . except . . .

While some people chalk up Gendry’s behavior as a result of trauma about what he experienced in the Riverlands, and I don’t deny that is a factor, I don’t believe it’s the only factor because we didn’t see Gendry like this post Harrenhal or even with the Brotherhood in ASOS.  Yes he embodied “ours is the fury” at times and was jealous and bitter, and rude at times as well, but he wasn’t flat out cruel to people, nor filled with rage and vengeance.  The Gendry before Arya was taken would never have led Brienne to Lady Stoneheart for the slaughter after she tried to save everyone in that Inn against Rorge and Biter and co.  We can also see another difference in Gendry:

Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.

Gendry saw it too. "Him."

While there is no emphasis on the “him” when Gendry sees the Hound’s helm, it’s an abrupt and emotionless statement.  It’s one word without emphasis but it conveys a lot.  Gendry recognizes the Hound’s helm and it’s apparent he’s not happy, thinking that it was indeed the Hound for a minute.  And while I’m trying to avoid discussing symbolism, I just can’t ignore how the lightning that cracked in the south could also be symbolic of Gendry’s true mood.  He is, after all, a bastard Baratheon, connected to the storm, the fury - thunder and lightning - as well as sharing a connection to the god, Thor in our mythology.  This lightning could symbolically be linked to Gendry’s anger and vengeance.  So why does Gendry act like this when he sees who he thinks is the Hound again?  He had no issue with the Hound during his trial by combat, so what changed?  The Hound kidnapped Arya.  And while he knows Arya didn’t die at the Red Wedding, he and the Brotherhood aren’t entirely sure if the Hound sold Arya to the Lannister’s and if she is now Arya Bolton.  So it makes complete sense why he would have issues with the Hound.  In fact I think a lot of this behavior we are seeing from Gendry is the direct result of the Hound kidnapping Arya and not knowing if she’s dead or being brutally raped and tortured in the North.

Why do I think this?  Because this behavior began between Arya being kidnapped in ASOS and Brienne VII AFFC.  Only a few to a handful of months have passed since then.  This, I believe, is the inciting incident.  Another reason why I believe Arya is the reason is because of what he is doing.  He is staying at the Crossroads Inn, one of the last known places Arya was sighted, and he’s helping take care of orphaned children.  Arya took in strays as well and cared for them, like Weasel.  And considering how Gendry in ACOK wanted to leave Weasel and Hot Pie and Lommy behind, it’s interesting to see that he’s helping by taking in strays himself now, as if he thinks he may be able to atone for not saving Arya.  Another reason is because the Brotherhood is actively searching for Arya as well.  She is ever present on their minds.  So yes, I believe part of Gendry’s change has to do with losing Arya, which goes to show how much he really cared about her.  Not to mention (a tiny bit more symbolism, oopsie!), Gendry’s stay at the inn, waiting for Arya to return (I believe Gendry and the BWB are hoping that Arya is alive and will return to the inn) is a romantic aspect to the mythology of Weyland the Smith and his Swan Maiden/Valkyrie, and the aspect about the Brotherhood + Gendry searching the realm for Arya is also a romantic Cinderella motif, hence why I feel Gendry’s behavior here is supposed to have romantic subtext.

*

Extra:  Another interesting aspect that I think foreshadows this future relationship is the meaning of Gendry’s name.  Gendry is a nickname type of surname for a person who has inherited his family estates from his father-in-law, deriving its origin from the Old French word “gendre,” which meant “son-in-law.”  And as we know if Arya and Gendry married when they were older, Arya wouldn’t be taking his name, but he hers, due to her higher status.  So by marrying into the Stark family, he would be inheriting from his father-in-law Ned so to speak, even if it’s just inheriting the surname.

So this is everything I’ve compiled so far about Gendrya, that relies on just their foreshadowing and romantic undertones in the texts we have available but I’m positive I’ll be adding more to this list once TWOW officially releases.  However, I still have a lot more to share that focuses on their symbolism and motifs throughout the story, so I’m definitely not done making Gendrya meta, far from it and I can’t wait to share it with you all!  

And if anyone is interested in Arya’s and by extension Gendrya’s Cinderella motifs, you can find it at this link:  A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.