#and calls me spoiled ???? LOOK AT YOUR YOUNGEST SON HE DOES NOTHING ALL DAY BUT SIT AT HIS COMPUTER

[lubdubsworld]

The Devil’s Own.

Jungkook x OC

Mafia Au!

Warnings : Non-Con ! Manipulation, Degradation, Shitty hero with no redeeming Qualities you have been warned. ( i mean he does get better but not much.) 

Summary : Just Mob Boss Jungkook doing mob boss things. 

Chapter 1

“ Sign it. ”

I glared at him, feeling sick at the tone. The entitlement.

“No.” I said sharply and I could feel his anger swelling, morphing into something dangerous and deadly but I couldn���t care anymore. I was tired. Exhausted. This cat and mouse game had gone on , long enough. It wasn’t an even playing field, in any sense of the qword.

If today was the day I died, so be it. I would accept it. I would even welcome it.

I was done.

He had everything : an empire at his beck and call , enough money to pave the streets of Seoul in gold and an army of loyal associates behind him. His face was plastered on Billboards across the country , the President posted pictures of him on his fucking SNS and delegates from other countries had to wait weeks , just to get an appointment with the youngest billionaire South Korea had ever seen.

And yet none of those white collared dignitaries saw this side of him. The dirty, violent ruthless man who had more blood on his hands than anyone else in the country. My father’s. My brothers’.

Jeon Jungkook was both the most revered business man in the country and the undisputed king of Seoul’s criminal underbelly.

“You defiance only makes me want to break you in other ways Elena.” He said warningly and I felt my throat go dry. I stared at him, wondering how someone could look so expensively gorgeous and yet, like a hardened criminal.

The expensive silk shirt, the fitted slacks and the handmade shoes ought to clash with the dark ink that covered his entire arm and neck, the piercing on his eyebrow and the glint of metal on his tongue but it didn’t.

It just all came together to make him the most attractive man in existence.

I took a deep breath. Perhaps begging was the way to go?

“ You have my father’s company. You have my brother’s Hospital and you have the family mansion. It’s all yours. This bakery belongs to my mother. It’s all I have left of her. My sister in law is pregnant , due any day. She needs a place to stay and I don’t… I don’t have money to rent anywhere else.” I said desperately, thinking of the paltry wage I earned waiting tables. I could barely afford food for myself let alone for Jisoo and the baby on the way.

The bakery was abandoned but it had a roof. The furniture was crumbling but I could fix that. If I didn’t have to worry about rent, I could save up enough to make it livable. At least till I got a better job.

“I’ve offered you solutions for all of that.” He reminded me softly, eyes trained unblinkingly on me and I stared at him.

“I’m not going to be your whore.” I felt my voice shake.

He grimaced.

“You aren’t qualified to be my whore. And I don’t need one either. Whores are not my thing. I have a beautiful fiancée, don’t you remember? ” He grinned. I felt my heart ache because that fiancée was once my best friend. The only person I had trusted with my entire life. Lisa had betrayed my trust, had spied on my father’s operations and brought him down and I had the horrible, horrible inkling that she had also had something to do with my father and brother’s untimely death in a car crash.

But I couldn’t think about that. Every time I thought about her my heart broke and head spun, and I had to be at my maximum mental capacity if I was going to deal with her heartless fiancée.

“ If you ask me, you’re not fit for anything more than a back alley blowjob for a couple bucks. But Hoseok thinks you have potential. Join his agency, there are a lot of very wealthy men who have a bone to pick with your father. He made a shit ton of enemies. Most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of you. ”

His words felt like worms crawling all over my skin and I could feel the nausea churn inside me.

“I’m not signing the bakery over. You can call the creditors. I still have another year and half to pay the one remaining loan and they won’t come for me till then.” I felt my head begin to throb and Jungkook sighed.

“Suit yourself.” He stood up and I stayed still, watching his tall frame tower over me with ease. He gave me a small bitter smile. It was fraught with hatred and I stared back at him, knowing the emotion was probably mirrored in my gaze.

“Beautiful Elena. As pretty as the day you left me at the altar.” He smirked and I flushed.

“Your vengeance is petty and pointless and unfair…just like you.” I said angrily, frustration building u at his words. The way he talked about our broken engagement like it even mattered. It hadn’t even been real. We had hardly spoken and my father had called the wedding off at the last moment. But apparently, that had been the last straw for the Jeons. They had come after my father’s entire existence with a single minded intent to destroy him and they had succeeded. The man was dead . His two sons were dead.

But apparently it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook stared at me, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe. But it’s also deadly and potent. And it won’t rest until I see you reduced to nothing but a whore on the streets, spreading your legs for every man who can afford you.” He laughed. “ Saying no is a luxury , one that you’ll soon be unable to afford.”

I refused to be cowed, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words scared me. Because they did.

They scared me so damn much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This bed is so lumpy… I’m so sorry, unnie..” I said apologetically but Jisoo shook her head quickly, palms cupping my face as I held her elbows, gently lowering her to the bed. I stared at her feet, feeling my heart race at how swollen they looked. That can’t be normal, a voice whispered and

I didn’t know if that was normal and I had no money to take her to a clinic. The social center we usually went to only allowed three visits per month and we had used it all up. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and spend the thirty thousand won it would take but that would mean no groceries for a week and surely bread and eggs wouldn’t stretch that long, even if I could sneak meals in the restaurant for myself.

“I’ve been feeling a little dizzy…I’ll just sleep.” She said tiredly. She was thirty six weeks along, not due for another four weeks but her blood pressure was erratic. Her lab numbers were oscillating and there had been talks of an emergency c section. Even with insurance it was way more than I could afford but I had my own jewelry, a few expensive trinkets from my teenage years. I’d been obsessed with diamonds and my father had indulged me and I had a pair of earrings left. I’d already sold the rest but this would take care of the medical bills for the birth itself.

“My shift starts in ten minutes. I have to go. Give me a call if you need anything…” I said softly and I saw the familiar blank and listless look come into her eyes. I knew she was depressed, dealing with grief and pregnancy and loss but there was nothing I could do for her. Nothing. I had applied for a bunch of other jobs but they never wrote back. It wasn’t easy, being rejected over and over again but it wasn’t like there was much else I could do. And the truth was I was resigned to this, accepted that at some point I would have to take more loans and be stuck in an endless cycle of debt for the rest of my life.

And I had made peace with that.

There was no future for me. And I was okay with just surviving.

If only Jungkook would let me.

Apparently, watching me wipe down greasy tables and mop up floors and toilets trying to earn just enough to get a few square meals didn’t soothe his anger. It only fueled it. Jungkook couldn’t fathom that it had been six whole months of me on the streets of Seoul and I wasn’t completely destitute yet. I’d kept myself and my sister in law alive, safe and it pissed him off.

He wanted to see me broken and on my knees, begging him for help. The idea of me somehow surviving despite him taking everything away from me, it just didn’t sit well with him.

I couldn’t afford to have him as an enemy so all I could really hope was that one day he would wake up and give up. One day he would just wake up and decide that I wasn’t worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I walked into my shift and noticed a familiar pair of high heeled Louboutins , completely out of place in my seedy place of employment, I knew I was in trouble. Lisa sat against one of the booths and her gaze was fixated on the door which meant she was waiting for someone. And when her eyes narrowed at the sight of me, I just knew I was the someone.

She wants to get me fired.

It wasn’t rocket science and I felt the urge to turn right back around and leave.  But I tamped down on it. I could get through this. I would get through this. Lisa and Jungkook got off on invoking reactions and I wouldn’t give them that.

Except it wasn’t that easy.

It was a nightmare, watching her demand and reject and walk all over me but the sleeplessness from the past few days made spacing out easier and I just stared away at the wall as she yelled and complained and made a scene.

“You’ve stopped fighting? Finally giving up? Good…” She hissed when the manager apologized to her and told me to meet him after my shift and I felt myself tremble in indignation.

“I won’t fight you or Jungkook, you and I both know I can’t afford to.” I said quietly and she went still, something flashing in her eyes for a second. It was gone before I could fully process it but it had been there. Guilt.

Lisa wasn’t a terrible human. She had been a dear friend. We had grown up together and she had even hugged and teased me when I’d been betrothed to Jungkook, all those years ago. I had been twenty back then, naïve and spoiled. While Jungkook had taken my father’s entire legacy apart, piece by piece, Lisa had been nothing more than a pawn. I remembered all the times I had let her home, how she would disappear for lengths of time.

Planting bugs all over the house. All over his office. Jungkook had been smart. Someone like Lisa, so fascinated by thr wealth she had grown up around would naturally jump at the idea of more. It wasn’t greed. It was human nature. And with her help he had destroyed everything my father had built over decades.

I shuddered. My father hadn’t been a good man. He had been greedy, yes. But he hadn’t deserved to die. And Jungkook would have to pay for that sin, someday.

“There’s a job waiting for you in Hoseok’s club.” She smiled cruelly , “ you don’t need this one.”

“The fact that you want to take it away from me, tells me that maybe there’s nothing left in you save.” I said blankly and she turned her nose up at me.

“I have Jungkook. I don’t need to be saved.”

I shook my head. She was so naïve. Men like Jungkook cared for nothing but themselves. But I wondered if women like her didn’t care for anything but the money that came with being his. Money was precious, I thought bitterly. I’d never realized how privileged I had been until I’d had it all ripped away.

“He’s the one you need saving from. And one day you’ll realize that.” I shrugged, not in the mood to offer her anymore life advice.  If she was alright with being a trophy wife in exchange for a few pretty shoes that was her prerogative.

Before she could reply,  my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked nervously and I felt my heart drop to my knees when I heard who it was.

I turned on my heel rushing inside and my manager gave me a look of surprise.

“ My sister..she’s… she’s sick. I need to go.” I said desperately and his eyes narrowed. It was the worst timing. He was already annoyed because of Lisa and I stared in disbelief as he quickly shook his head.

“No. I’m sorry Elena…I just can’t let you leave like that…” He said sharply.

It was so unfair.

“I haven’t taken a single day off in five months…” I said desperately..” Please, she’s pregnant..She needs me, she-“

“If you leave, you won’t have a job to come back to. I can’t do this.. First you make trouble with a customer and now you just want to walk out in the middle of your shift without any notice…”

“Fine. Fire me.” I snapped, because I’d just had enough of it. I was exhausted, and tomorrow I’d go knocking on some other tore and I’d get a job. I lived in Seoul …How hard could it be? For now, I had to get to Jisoo. I had to get the hospital and things would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t okay.

“I… You want to keep her in? So soon?”

“Her blood pressure is through the roof. There are signs of severe pre eclampsia and we want to get her started on a magnesium drip. Steroids to help the baby’s lungs incase we need to deliver…��

“Deliver..?” I couldn’t breathe.

“Yes, I’m sorry…. If her blood pressure doesn’t come down we’re going to have to deliver.”

I nodded, glancing at the bed where Jisoo was sleeping, her face swollen and I knew that she was sick. Really sick. She looked pallid and ill.

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked hoarsely.

“We’re going to do what we can… But I’m going to be honest, we’re looking at a c section, a lot of meds and also some time in the NICU for the baby…. Can you afford it? Your sister’s insurance only covers 80% .”

I blinked, completely thrown. White noise rushed through my ears,  a dull throb settling right at the base of my skull and beginning to spread all the way to my arms and back. It was panic mixed wth anxiety mixed with despair and I couldn’t quite cope. The earrings wouldn’t cover all that.

“Oh… Oh..yeah.” I said dully, “ Of course I can… Let me just…. Can I have a moment? There’s somethings I need to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I carefully slipped the cash into the envelope, swallowing as I sat on the pavement. I’d got another call from the hospital, they had administered the steroids but Jisoo’s condition seemed to be worsening. They wanted to try inducing labour soon but they wanted me to pay for the room and for the medicines, and apparently, the earrings weren’t as valuable as I thought they were.

I fought nausea wrapping arms around myself as I stared at the cars whizzing by, the putrid city air clogging my lungs as I tried to come to terms with what was happening. Jisoo needed help. She was the only one left and she carried my brother’s son. I felt my throat clog when I thought of Daehwan. He had been a good guy. I had loved him. It wasn’t fair, what Jungkook had done to my family, I thought miserably .

And the only reason I wasn’t driven by vengeance or anger was because I was nothing like Jungkook. I hated him. I didn’t want him to live in my head, didn’t want to waste any part of myself on him , not even my anger. But it was hard when he wouldn’t let me breathe, always at my heels like a wolf : jaws snapping and blood thirsty eyes trained on me at all times. I couldn’t fathom his obsession sometimes. Surely, his hatred was uncalled for now? He’d taken everything from me anyway.  

There was a dull roaring in my ears, one that said that this was not really a surprise. I’d thought about it way too often, had considered it countless times. Had even spent one absolutely horrifying evening scouring the streets of Seoul’s red light district just to see how sex workers behaved.

I’d also realized that in the face of desperation, dignity didn’t hold much value.

You are going to pay your debts on your back and on your knees.

The first time Jungkook had thrown it at my face, eyes glinting with glee, my stomach had rebelled so hard. I’d been absolutely infuriated, had thrown a vase at him. And it had been awful,  watching him catch it out of the air with ease, his mocking laughter making my bones rattle as he shook his head, “ That’s how this ends, Elena. Mark my words.”

And it was pitiful ,  that he went through life so consumed with hatred and vindictive cruelty that he couldn’t leave me alone . He was pathetic. That’s how I saw him. A pathetic child who refused to stop tormenting the helpless ant on the floor although it was no match for his cruelty.

At some point Jungkook was going to win. And his idea of winning was seeing me stripped bare of the one thing that kept me alive : my freedom.

It had just happened sooner than I’d thought.

Because I knew what it would mean, to go to Hoseok. He would own me. Hoseok’s whores were all slaves, tangled in his web so badly that there was no hope of escape. He wasn’t cruel but he was smart. No one left the his ‘ agency’ once they went in. I would be lost, forever. And I couldn’t stomach it.

I stared at my knees, fists clenched on the fabric of my skirt. I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the contacts. I considered it carefully. I had to do this on my terms. Had to make sure I retained some sort of control here.

And I knew just how to do it.

Hoseok picked up on the third ring.

“Hello.”

“I need help.” I croaked out.

The deep chuckle made my skin crawl.

“Elena Gong. What a wonderful, wonderful surprise. What can I do you for?” He drawled.

“Well sweetheart, I’m all out of charity so you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”

I took a deep breath.

“I’m a virgin.” I whispered.

The line went completely silent.

“What?” The amusement in his voice died.

“You heard me and I’ll let you cash in on it. I’ll let you auction it off…” I tamped down on the burning protest in my lung, the screaming inside my head that said it was horrifying, that I was considering this. “ But only if you keep my terms.”

“What makes you think you have a say in that.” He said sharply and I laughed.

“I belong to your world, Hoseok. Did you forget that we were friends, once.” I whispered and he didn’t reply.

Laughter, kindness, a big brother I could always count on, hobi oppa, nine year old me with my fingers curled around his wrist as we ran all around the gardens , a smile so wide that he could spread sunshine on the gloomiest days. Different from Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi and the others. Willing to include a ‘ girl’ in his playtime. Lisa and I the only girls, not even fazed watching as the rest of them wielded toy guns and mock interrogation scenes, pretending to kill and maim and torture because that was the world we were born into.

“We’re not friends, Elena. Let’s get that straight. The only part of you that holds any value to me is th part between your legs. So tell me, what do you want.”

“When was the last time you auctioned off someone’s virginity? You know how much money you can make off something like that. Not just from the sale itself but from the entire night. Your club… Your gaming hell…. All of it.”

“You expect me to believe you’re a virgin. At twenty seven.” He scoffed.

“Put the word out, everywhere. If you find one man who says he’s slept with me , I’ll back off.”

“That would require me to tarnish your  family name. And you’re alright with that?”

I smiled biotterly.

“Isn’t that what you and your precious Jungkookie want? To see the last living Gong, be labeled as a whore and a slut.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’ll give you that. You can do it… You know that will only interest more people. As Jungkook so eloquently put it, most of them would love to fuck the defiance out of me.”

“What’s the catch. What do you want. ”

“2 billion won.”  I said firmly “It will be one night. One night only and I want enough money to pay off every one of my father’s debts, to get me an apartment for my sister in law and to support her and her baby for a year at least.”

“Done.” He said without missing a beat and I went still. What must it be like, to throw around money like that without a care in the world. And it sickened me that Jungkook was probably ten times as rich as Hoseok , the money my father owed him and his associates not even pocket change in comparison to his gargantuan wealth and yet, he stayed on my heels, snapping his jaws like a dog with a bone.

“And Jungkook doesn’t get to watch.” I said softly, knowing exactly what Jungkook would get off on.

That made Hoseok laugh.

“You know him too well. I keep forgetting he was madly in love with you once.”

I resisted the urge to vomit. Jungkook didn’t know love. He knew ownership. He didn’t love me, he thought he owned me. That I was his to play with…. For the rest of his life. And when my father had denied him that, just like a toddler in a toy store being denied a shiny toy to break and trample on, he had thrown a temper tantrum.

Except his tantrums always ended in death and destruction.

“That’s the deal. He doesn’t turn up there to gloat.”

“He’s heading out to Switzerland for a week , two days from now.” Hoseok said evenly.

“Good then. My sister in law…she “ I swallowed. “ She’s in a hospital in Yongsan. I’ll send you the address.”  

“I’ll take care of it. But I want you here tonight. I’m not going to drop a couple billion won on your head without making sure I’m getting my money’s worth. And I can’t have you changing your mind and bolting either. My reputation is on the line here. If I put out the word that I’m serving something so fucking delicious and then back out, they’re not going to want to buy Hobi’s wares anymore. You understand what I’m saying darling?” Hoseok drawled and I knew exactly what he was saying. If I agreed to this, it was blanket consent for him to whatever he wanted.

“I won’t back out. I can’t. But this is one night. One night with whichever bastard you choose and that’s it. I want out.  I don’t want you or Jungkook hounding me again. Ever.” My voice shook as I dug my fingers into my knees.  

“My men will be there in ten minutes. Sit tight, princess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at Hoseok as he carefully poured me a finger of whiskey, neat. He gave me a smirk and I shrugged.

“you remember.” I said casually, throat itching because it had been way too long since I’d had quality alcohol. I missed the burn,  the warmth , the numbness that followed.

“Of course I do. You could drink all of us under the table with little effort. It was spectacular.” He laughed and I leaned back against the couch, letting my head fall back.

“I was half certain that you would have a doctor around to make sure I’m a virgin.” I stared at him and he shrugged. “ Pointless. You’re twenty seven, you’ve probably had stuff up there anyway… Not like your hymen’s still going to be intact.”

I thought it was rather horrifying, that I didn’t feel nearly as mortified as I should. This was how Hoseok talked, matter of fact and open and that was why he was so popular. Anytime an important person came into the country, Hobi was the one who offered entertainment for the night. Hobi’s girls were always the prettiest, most well behaved and perfect. They were educated, knew what they were talking about and he didn’t force them into the life. They loved it, enjoyed it and it showed.

Not to say he was a saint.

Far from it.

Hoseok knew how to dine with kings in castles  but also how to wrestle with  swine in the gutter. The seedy brothels in Seoul’s back alleys were his as well, and he ruled his kingdom with an iron hand. The prostitutes there feared him, one look or word enough to silence any rebellion, any thought of escape.

He was called Hope. And yet somehow that was exactly what he denied the women under him. There was no hope here. There was only lust and power and money. You came to Hobi…. You never left .

I took the glass he offered, taking a small sip, savoring the taste.

“But you believe me. I wonder why.” I watched him closely and he scoffed.

“Between your father and Jungkook, no one ever really had the pluck to come anywhere near you  did they?”

Undisputable.

I sighed, leaning back to stare at him.

“Do you think dying hurts?” I asked softly.

It was frightening, how his entire body went stiff, eyes wide and jaw dropping.

“Elena, what the fuck-“

“Its just a question. You’ve killed people. You’ve watched them die… how do you think they feel?” I asked , curious.

“None of them wanted to die. If that’s what you’re asking.” The look in his eyes made me nervous.

I stared at him and the question was obvious. None of them wanted to die, but do you?

I didn’t.

“I’m not thinking of killing myself , oppa.  Stop looking so horrified.” I laughed. He shook his head.

“ Don’t joke about that. It’s not fucking funny.”

I sobered up, remembering with a jolt. Ah, of course.

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” I said quietly.

Hoseok’s little sister had killed herself when I was seventeen. She was a year older than me and her father had lost her in a wager to a seventy year old man, known for torturing his bedmates. She had heard the news, taken a deep breath and taken a deep dive off the seventeeth floor of the condo where she lived with her mother.

I’d been engaged to Jungkook by then. And I had almost wanted it. Jungkook wasn’t old at least… twenty one to my seventeen.

“Just so you know, he’s going to find out. And he’s not going to like it.”

I shrugged. Three years is a long time to be preyed upon and now my mind was resigned to a life of being hunted. Hoseok was right. Jungkook would find out and he wouldn’t like it.

Good.

“I don’t care what he does anymore. All I care is that Jisoo and the baby are left out of whatever plans he has…. If you promise me you’ll keep them safe , I’ll cooperate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a baby boy.

I stared, fingers itching to hold the baby but it was impossible, the little one whisked away to the NICU right after with respiratory distress and Jisoo had gone into a seizure, eyes rolling back into her eyes.

She as alright now, resting in a VIP room with the best care money could buy. Hoseok had asked me if I was happy with the arrangements, and if I would name the boy after him.

I stared at the room, large and breezy and filled with flowers and gifts, toys and baby stuff and I knew right then that I had sealed my fate. I was going to have to go through with this. I could imagine how much Jisoo would protest when she came to her senses. The only relief was that it would take her a few days to be good enough to fight or protest. But then this would all be over and done with.

Jungkook would leave this afternoon. His flight was at three.

I would reach the club at five. The patrons would arrive at seven.

One night, I reminded myself , staring at the gentle rise and fall of Jisoo’s chest as she slept, my fingers playing with the soft skin on her wrist. The IV line went through her veins and I watched the gentle drip of it.

One night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t know how auctions happened and while I’d been prepared for the worst kind of humiliation,  Hoseok assured me that he wasn’t going to make me stand naked on some podium or something.

“Generally, I would do something like that simply for the flair of it but consider this a favor ….a respite because you were, as you said, once a friend.” He gave me an even smile and I could only nod in mute relief.

I was grateful. Beyond grateful.

And what was more, he hadn’t told anyone, who I was.

That stunned me. Because wasn’t that the selling point? The murderous, greedy mob rat Gong Hyo Suk’s only daughter forced to spread her legs for one lucky stranger? If Hoseok had cashed in on that he would have made a fortune. But he hadn’t. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Would , whoever it was be upset if he recognized me?

I was led to a bedroom, large and tastefully decorated with silky satin sheets and dark curtains and dim lighting that lit up parts of the room and left other parts plunged in darkness. Hoseok had told me to wear whatever I wanted and I realized with a pang that he really didn’t see this as some sort of transaction. He was trying to make it as easy as possible without making any decisions for me. Offering me choices and options and some illusion of being in control.

I didn’t have anything fancy so it was just a dress shirt that I borrowed from Hoseok. I’d left the underwear off, eager to merely get the whole thing over with. I felt a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh out loud.

If Jungkook were here he really would have lost his damn mind, simply because of how little this whole thing affected me. And that was it, really. He was always desperate for a reaction.

Earlier when this whole thing had started, I’d obliged him with that. I would scream, rant and yell….launch myself at him like a wildcat, scratching at him , fists flying  and it was obscene, how much he seemed to enjoy that. He would press me up against walls and tables , fingers choking the breath out of my lung, just so he could see me struggle and push back.

He fed off from every negative reaction I offered him and it had taken me a long long time that the way to beat him was to become passive, unresponsive. I would go limp in his arms, stare at him blankly as he tried to manhandle me and that…that had pissed him off. Because that meant I wasn’t playing his game anymore.

If the prey wasn’t playing, the game wasn’t fun anymore. It was drab.

Boring.

And I knew that Jungkook kept raising the stakes, kept tightening the noose around my neck….just to bring that girl out again. The one that had wanted to put up a fight . The one that wanted to mouth off even with the muzzle of a gun pressed against her head. The one who would spit in his face in front of all his associates, even if it earned her a vicious strike of his hand across her face.

I shuddered. They weren’t memories I liked reliving.

Well, if that was who he wanted, I’d make sure he would never see her again.

The door opening made me jump and Hoseok came in , with a wide grin on his face.

“Baby…. Your guest for the night.” He said softly and I peered over his shoulders, my heart and mind grinding to a halt when I caught sight of what had to be the most breathtakingly beautiful man on the face of the planet.

I felt my heart begin to pound, fear taking over because this wasn’t okay. Not really. I was okay with old, creepy and disgusting , not able to get it up for more than ten minutes.

I wasn’t okay with someone who looked like they stepped right out of the latest issue of GQ.

Hoseok left quickly, closing the door behind him and the man stepped into the light, the brightness lighting up his perfect features even more. I felt my throat go dry, and fought the urge to get up and run. Growing up as the daughter of a mobster , I’d learned how to trust my instincts over appearances.

And right now, every single one of those instincts screamed at me that this man was absolutely dangerous.

“Well, you are beautiful. I’ll give you that. “ He said casually.

“Thank you.” I said stiltedly, watching as he tugged on his tie, pulling it off his neck deftly . Instead of tossing it aside , he wrapped it a bunch of times around his wrist over and over as he smiled at me.

“Don’t thank me yet. The only reason I like beautiful things is because of how easily they break.” He smiled.  “ I haven’t been with a virgin in a while…. I miss the screams.”

And there it was the full blown panic that came with stark terror. I crawled back on the bed, staring as he moved closer and there was no mistaking the look on his face, the harsh grip of his hand on my ankle telling me that I was going to regret every one of the choices that led me here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hoseok wasn’t at the airport.” Jungkook observed casually, glancing at Yoongi as the latter finished cleaning his gun carefully, eyes fixed on his weapon with utmost concentration.

“He’s holding some sort of auction tonight. Some chick …” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook hummed. It was not the kind of thing he was interested in. Anonymous bids were often boring : actresses or female idols past their prime, desperate to make some money to survive. He had no interest in those but he was a little peeved that Hoseok hadn’t told him anything about it.

Hoseok was one of Jungkook’s most trusted friends. He was almost as powerfully rich as Jungkook and the only reason Jungkook reigned supreme was because Hoseok had no interest in challenging him for the throne. Hoseok was dangerous and cunning and loyal and Jungkook was grateful to have him on his side and he had hoped to see him before leaving. Just to ask him to keep an eye on Elena.

He grimaced, hating himself.

God, he couldn’t go two hours without thinking of her. It fucked with his head, the amount of space she took up inside him. Jungkook , for all his wealth and power, was driven solely by his need to prove himself. He wanted to be powerful and terrifying yes, but more than that , he wanted people to know.

He wanted people to look him in the eye and acknowledge him for what he was : the most dangerous man in the country. He liked seeing that fear, that worship, that admiration. He got off on it. He wanted it , craved it and for some reason he craved it more from her , than anyone else.

And instead of giving him what he wanted, instead of begging on her knees for mercy, instead of licking his shoes and begging for him to let her live….she ignored him. She looked at him with defiance and pride, her chin straight and her back unbending, her gaze locked right on him like she was his fucking equal….

And Jungkook, he’d taken a lot of insults. Taken more than his fair share of hits in life …..

But when she looked at him like that , like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe….

Fuck it drove him wild with fury.

It made him want to teach her a fucking lesson, to remind her that he owned her because he owned everything. To break her down, snuff out the flames of defiance that burned so bright in those ember eyes… Take her into his bed and brand her with his body. Till she was on the floor, on her knees covered in his spit and cum begging for mercy….

Because no one looked at Jeon Jungkook like that and lived to tell the tale..

“Seokjin’s here. Landed in Korea a couple of hours ago. ” Yoongi said casually and Jungkook smiled a bit at that. He loved his older brother, technically a step brother and growing up he had only saw him when he visited his mother in China. That meant a couple of months a year and now as adults,  a bit more often because Seokjin loved Jungkook and liked to visit him often.

Seokjin was a celebrity trainer, working with actors and athletes and he did a good amount of modeling as well. He was rich,  handsome and well liked and the only thing that gave away the Jeon blood in him was the fact that he was a sexual sadist.

The face of an angel with a devilish streak, he had a penchant for sadism and inflicting pain on his partners and while Jungkook didn’t particularly enjoy indulging him, he knew there were women who were into that and usually had them arranged for when Seokjin dropped by in Korea. His hyung’s visit seldom lasted more than a few weeks at a time and it was a pity that he would miss out one whole week of it .

But the issue in Switzerland was a little pressing and Jungkook had to be there in person to sort it out.

He leaned back against the seat, staring out of the window, sighing.

“An unsullied dove ….What the fuck is this shit..” Yoongi muttered and Jungkook turned, curious.

“What?”

“Hoseok’s been hyping up some new girl for the auction and Seokjin hyung’s bidding on her.”

Jungkook laughed at that.

“Jungkook…..” Yoongi’s voice is completely stunned, his eyes confused as he looks up at Jungkook.”  Its Elena.”

Jungkook’s thought process came to a grinding halt.

There’s a sound between his ears, a dull rushing sound like the wind in a storm and he can’t quite comprehend what he just heard. Even Namjoon who had been buried in his laptop , looked up then, tugging an airpod out of his ear.

“Wait…did you say Elena?” His eyes were wide , lips parted in shock. Yoongi and Namjoon exchanged glances, no doubt bracing themselves for the explosion that was to follow.

Jungkook took a deep breath.

“Turn the fucking plane around.”

That jolted Namjoon out of his stunned stupor..

“Turn-? Jungkook what…. We’re on a fourteen hour flight-“ Namjoon began but the look on Jungkook’s face made him stop.

“DID I FUCKING STUTTER?”

Namjoon swore.

“Fucking hell… alright just calm the fuck down, Jesus…just put a fucking bullet in that girl’s head and spare us all the headache fuck…” He growled, unbuckling his seat belt and rushing to the cockpit and Yoongi groaned.

“ Let me guess you want me to get in touch with someone in Seoul and ask Hoseok to hold off on letting Seokjin near her…”

Jungkook glared at him.

“If you already know that why the fuck are you still here…” He growled and Yoongi gave him a look.

“Just tell her you’re in love with her and let us live, Jeon Jungkook.”

In love….. what the fuck….

He glared at Yoongi’s back, his asinine words making him madder. God he wanted to crush someone’s skull into dust with his bare hands.

And right now, in his head , that skull belonged to Jung fucking Hoseok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “What just happened?” I asked, frantic staring at the door as Hoseok’s men casually led a fuming Seokjin away while the man himself stared at me, looking pale as parchment.

“ Jungkook found out.” He said shortly and I felt my heart drop although I was half relieved because there had been something insane in Kim Seokjin’s gaze when he’d reached for me , a cruel glint of hunger that told me he would have hurt me really badly if Hoseok hadn’t barged into the room , frantic and worried.

He had given Seokjin a wide smile and then, “ I’m so sorry. We were waiting on her blood results and turns out she has a…. well, certain occupational disease that is very infectious.”

Seokjin’s mouth had dropped open even wider than mine.

“I thought she was a fucking virgin.” He had snapped, and I flinched at how cold and furious he had sounded.

But apparently there was a reason this whole thing had happened.

“What do you mean Jungkook knows? What does that mean?” I asked frantically, fear taking over.

“ He’s heading back here… He wants to see you.”

I felt my entire body go ice cold as I shook my head…

“No…fucking no bring Seokjin back here , he can fuck me that was the fucking deal, Hobi, please don’t../…”

“Elena , I’m so fucking sorry.. Seokjin…he’s fucked in the head…. He likes hurting his whores, likes making them bleed and he would have fucking destroyed you…”

I gaped at him horrified.

“What?!” I hissed shaking my head in disbelief.

“He’s Jungkook’ stepbrother. I’ve arranged whores for him before, I knew he was a little crazy but I’d never seen him before and I didn’t know he was the Kim Seokjin…fuck he outbid everyone and fucker looks like a fucking angel, how the fuck was I supposed to know he’s unhinged? Thankfully, I messaged Yoongi and …. Fuck… Listen… I know I paid for your sister’s surgery but you’re going to have to pay me back….”

I felt my body convulse in rebellion.

“I can’t.. You know I fucking can’t…”

“I can’t make an enemy out of Jungkook…. I can’t.” Hoseok shook his head. “ You can get out of here now if you want but I’d advise you to stay. If you run it’s only going to make Jungkook angrier.”

“WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO HIM?!!!” I screamed, feeling my composure crumble into smithereens. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE WANT FROM ME?!!”

Hoseok flinched, stepping back and holding his hands up.

“Whether I want to or not, I answer to Jungkook.  I shouldn’t have done this in the first place , I’m sorry Elena.” He shook his head and stepped back like the coward that he was and I wanted to hurt him. To shake him and ask him to fucking remember who I was. That I had nothing to do with my father’s sins . That I had been a fucking marionette in his hands, had wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“So much for being a friend…” I whispered.

His jaw tightened. But he didn’t look guilty. None of them ever did. It was like guilt didn’t exist in their world. They did what they wanted to whoever they wanted , whenever they wanted and they got away with it because that bastard’s word was law. What Jeon Jungkook wanted, he got.

“I’ll get your clothes sent in.”

I watched him leave, the door slamming shut behind him and sagged against the bed, staring at myself. What had just happened?

Was I born to endless misery and misfortune?

Couldn’t I catch a fucking break?

I’d agreed to sell myself hadn’t I? Would have even let Seokjin hurt me if that was what he wanted. Because it was one night. It was one night of this…whatever the hell this was and then freedom. That was the deal.

The door opened again and I stared as a young girl brought me a pile of my clothes neatly folded.

“Do you work here?” I said sharply.

She blinked before bowing her head.

“Yes, mistress.”

I scoffed.

“Don’t call me mistress , I’m here to get fucked, just like you. Tell me does Jungkook ever use the women here.” I demanded.

She looked trapped, glancing at the door, clearly wanting to run .

“Tell me.” I snapped and she flinched.

“I..uh..yes. Sometimes.” She said softly.

“Can you tell whoever fucks him next to kick him in the fucking balls?”

The girl bowed deeply and all but ran out and I sighed, feeling myself shaking. Jungkook was on the way here and I wanted to yell and scream and rave at him but I knew that was exactly what he wanted. I wanted to deny him the satisfaction …wanted to act all cool and composed in front of him but it was impossible…

Because I hadn’t realized just how tired I was of this whole thing, till right this moment, when the end had been in sight. I was supposed to get my two billion won pay off all the debt , give Jisoo the rest of the money and disappear. I was so tired, so tired of this life I’d gotten trapped into, slaving over for hours on end just to afford a couple of meals a day. No friends, no boyfriends, no hope of a future …..

The door banged open and I jumped, crawling back when I recognized the man who had just entered.

“Yoongi-“

“Jungkook wants to see you.” He ground out and I swallowed.

“I need to get dressed. Please just wait outside.” I said shakily.

And then the door opened further and a tall looming shadow stepped in familiar and vomit inducing.

Jungkook looked livid, piercing glinting through the dimply lit room and I stared at him. He was dressed in a tight black t shirt, he sleeves stretched thin over his biceps and the tattoos stark against his skin.

“Leave us.” He said softly and Yoongi moved away to the door leaving me alone with the devil himself. I cursed myself for not putting at least my panties on, I was naked underneath this shirt and although it was big it left nothing to the imagination.

Jungkook’s eyes raked over my form before resting on my face.

“You think you’re smart enough to outsmart me, Elena?” He whispered softly.

I swallowed.

“Send you brother back in. He can fuck me and I’ll pay you back.”

Jungkook hummed, stepping closer and grabbing my clothes from the bed, he grabbed the plain white bra and the pastel pink underwear and then to my complete and utter mortification he brought the clothing up to his face, breathing in .

“Fucking pervert!!!” I screamed, feeling the action like a physical touch and wanting to claw his eyes out and the smirk on his face told me that this was exactly what he wanted but I was too fucking gone to care.

“If you want me to be a whore, fine. I’ll be a whore. But on my terms…” I spat out and he shook his head, laughing.

“I don’t just want you to be a whore, Elena. I want everyone to know that you are one…” He dropped my clothes and moved closer, holding a hand out. “ Come here.”

I stared at the inked fingers, adorned with sterling silver rings and bracelets with the motifs of his gang. I shook my head.

“No. I’m not playing this game with you.” I turned my face away.

His hand shot out gripping my upper arm with enough strength to bruise and I screamed, agony shooting up my arm and shoulders as he dragged me off the bed and onto the floor. I landed hard, hips and elbows bruising from impact and I stared at him in disbelief.

“I’ve been to gentle with you. You’ve forgotten your fucking place.” He bent over and grabbed me by my hair, yanking me to my feet so hard that it felt like my scalp had been ripped away from my skull.

“Okay…okay…Okay Jungkook..just…!!” I said softly, flinching because my pain tolerance was almost zero and Jungkook’s grip was so hard that my eyes were beginning to water now. He let me go, grabbing my panties off the floor and tossing them at me.

“I’m going to count to five. Put those on and get out.”

He walked out of the door and I stumbled a little fumbling with the fabric before quickly, slipping my legs in and yanking it up to my waist. I made to put on something else but his voice came, loud and impatient.

“Get the fuck out here.”

I walked out of the door and he was standing there next to Hoseok. I couldn’t meet either of their gazes , hating how they had so much power over my life. I stared at the floor. It was tempting to yell at them and scream but that never led anywhere.

“ I’ve asked them to stop the payment on the Hospital bill. Seeing as Elena hasn’t kept her end of the bargain.”

I felt my breath hitch at that, willing down the tears as I glared at him.

“What do you want?” I snapped. “ Tell me who you want me to fuck…. I’ll do it. Let’s get this over with so you can go back to whatever sewer you fucking climbed out of. ….”

Hoseok’s breath caught like he couldn’t believe what I’d just said and the look in his eye was a warning but I was sick of this. Sick of them all.

Jungkook turned to Hoseok with a laugh.

“You see hyung? See why I can’t let her go? If I let her scot free, everyone’s going to think I’m a pushover….that any worthless bitch can talk to me any way she wants and get away with it….” He shook his head, staring at me with a glint in his eye. “ I’m not going to choose. They are. You think you can charm your way into Hoseok’s heart and get special treatment? You think you’re ready to be a whore, Elena? Let me show you how a real whore gets treated in Hoseok’s club.”

He gripped my wrist, yanking me behind him as he stalked off down the narrow corridor that opened up into the club. I let myself get dragged out into the club dismally aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but Hoseok’s shirt. I could feel eyes on me but I kept mine on the back of Jungkook’s head as he dragged me all the way to the front. I knew what he was going to do and at this point I was just numb.

There was no point reasoning with the devil.

I glared at him as he pointed at the stage. “ Get up there.” He whispered harshly.

I stared back at him, not moving. I saw Jungkook’s jaw clench.

“Either you go up there by yourself, with your clothes on. Or I carry you up there, after stripping you naked. What’s it going to be? ”

I glared at him, pursing my lips before climbing up using the small stair in the side. I moved to the center, right in front of the stage lights, so the rest of the room would disappear. I had no wish to see any of the bastards in the room.

“I think all of you recognize this little beauty here, don’t you?” Jungkook’s voice was cheerful, friendly even and I bit my lips, fists clenched. “ Well, if you don’t let me tell you . This is Gong Hyo Suk’s daughter. Remember that bastard? He put a hit out on my father. Killed him and my mom on the night I was supposed to be marrying his fucking daughter. A daughter who later called off the wedding, because I was too poor now, to give her the life she deserved. ”

I felt the familiar ice cold guilt in my vein. I was seventeen, I wanted to scream. I was seventeen and all I did was say what my father asked me to say, do what my father asked me to do.

“ That was nine fucking years ago… and you know what I told myself…. I told myself, that a greedy little bitch like this, doesn’t deserve shit.” He laughed. “ If money’s what she values the most, then the only thing she deserves is to be treated like the whore she is.”

“Why don’t you guys tell me, how much money you’d be willing to spend, to fuck her? Come on, Hobi’s been treating you guys so well lets help him make some money tonight… be generous. ”

I could barely hear what they were calling out but when Jungkook climbed onto the stage next to me, I jumped. Moving back instinctively, I winced when brought a forearm around my throat nearly choking me as he dragged up against his body.

“90 million won….That’s a lot.” He grinned. “ Jihan hyung….. that was you right? You’re gonna pay 90 million won for her?”

I felt my heart race, it was a lot. More than enough for the Hospital Bills, would even leave extra to get a decent apartment somewhere... I grabbed his wrist as it pressed into my throat, trying to pull his hand off me but he just wrapped his free hand around my waist, wrapping his entire body around mine and chuckling into my hair.

Jungkook pressed his head against mine and I froze, hating the close contact.

“Okay…but since I’m feeling a bit left out here…Why don’t I pitch in… 500 Won.” Jungkook said loud and clear.

I froze. An eerie silence fell over the club, laughter stilling and the clink of glasses slowing down.

What.

I struggled to get away from his but his hold tightened.

“Anyone else?” He called out. “ Come on… Not even thousand? Surely you think this one here’s worth a thousand won? Aren’t you going to outbid me?”

No one responded of course they didn’t. Jungkook’s anger was palpable and no one was going to get on his wrong side …..

“Ahh… is that it then? Bid’s going to close for 500 won then…. Hear that baby?” He whispered against my ears and I swallowed. “ 90, million won to five hundred won in a few seconds… What does that tell you?”

“It tells me you’re a fucking psychopath in love with your own voice… Get off me.” I hissed.

“No. What it tells you is that only I get to decide how much that body of yours is worth, not you. . You don’t get to go sell your fucking body behind my back for two billion won and then pay off all your debts and ride off into the sunset, that is not how this works….”

I went limp in his arms fighting tears because he never played fair. Never.

“Hear that Hoseok-ah… I win her for the night for 500 won…fair and square…. Is that alright?” He called out into the darkness and I felt the first inkling of dread begin to seep in.

“No.. No… get off me.” I hissed and he laughed, dragging me off the stage with ease. I screamed, kicking out in disbelief.

Jungkook grinned at me, before grabbing both my arms and yanking them behind me, and I whimpered, unable to move as he easily pulled me along to the door that opened into the hallway. Behind us I heard Hoseok’s voice.

“Jungkook, don’t be impulsive. Think about whatever you’re going to do.”

I flinched at that, panic building.

“He’s not going to do anything. I’ll fucking kill him if he touches me , I-“

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch.” He shook me hard till my teeth rattled and I sobbed out.

“Jungkook…” Hoseok warned but he merely snarled.

“I know what I’m doing hyung, just…. Don’t disturb us. And make sure everyone here knows that she’s open for business.” It was loud enough to carry through the club and I felt humiliation burn my throat, acrid like acid.

I froze in disbelief.

“Jungkook …” Hoseok’s voice held a tone of reproach.

“ And tell them that her body is amazing. Tell them she spent the night with me , the best fuck I’ve ever had , mouth made for cock.”

I stared straight ahead as he pulled me all the way to the room we had left earlier and I tripped when he shoved me inside, landing on my hands and knees . I quickly rolled back around to land on my ass, crawling back as he slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

He stared down at me, mouth grim.

“You do owe me a wedding night. I was so ready to fuck your tight cunt, nine years ago… I think I’ve waited long enough yeah.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, to yell and scream and protest and fight so he could get off and forcing me…. Fucking psychopath.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

“If you pay for my sister in laws bills, and give me an apartment sure. “ I shrugged. “You’re not any different from any of the bastards here. I don’t give a damn which one of you idiots wants to rut into me like the absolute animal that you are…. I don’t care…” I said softly.

“you don’t? Really? You want me to tell you what your brother said when one of my men put a gun into his mouth…. He begged for his life…said he had a kid on the way….” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. “I told him it was better than what his father did…. My sister was six months pregnant when his lieutenant gunned her down on the streets.”

I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Why are you telling me this…” I snapped.

“Because she didn’t deserve it did she, Elena? She didn’t fucking deserve to die like that , like a dog on the street when she had nothing to do with any of this…. She didn’t deserve it.” He growled, bending down and gripping my chin hard.

“Maybe she did deserve it.” I spat out. “ If I deserve to be here, maybe your sister deserved to die too. “

He snarled, hand flying to my hair and dragging me up off the floor in one sharp yank. I whimpered as he pushed me on the bed, before climbing on top of me. I felt like every bone in my body was about to snap in two, the weight of him unbearable on me.

“I won the bid tonight…. I won it fair and square… You signed the waiver didn’t you…that you agreed to the auction…I won and I’m going to fucking collect.” He growled, and I kicked out, trying to buck him off of my body.

“Get off me.” I hissed. “ I’m not letting you fuck me for 500 won.”

“How about for your Jisoo then?” He whispered and I went still.

“What?”

He chuckled, reaching down and I felt my pulse pound as he pulled his phone out, dialing quickly and turning on the speakers.

Yoongi’s voice made me go ice cold. Everyone knew what Yoongi did for Jungkook.

“Daehwan’s wife is in a hospital room in Yongsan. Hobi’s got the details. I think she’s served her purpose.”

“No!! JUNGKOOK NO!!” I  screamed , thrashing so hard my head began to spin but he grunted pressing down into me harder.

“Are you serious? I’m not home yet… I can take care of it tonight.” Yoongi said, voice casual and I sobbed, shaking my head in sheer terror.

“Okay… I’ll behave.. I promise.. please just don’t…”

Jungkook hummed.

“Well, that was easy… Yoongi-yah… why don’t you stay on the phone yeah…. Going to get that wedding night I’m owed and if my baby doesn’t co operate you know what to do, yeah?”  

I bit my lips, glaring into the sheets as he gripped my waist, pulling me up.

“Ass up like the bitch that you are, baby.” He whispered and I felt my entire body shudder in disgust. It was worse because I hadn’t done this before. Didn’t know what to expect. But I couldn’t let him know that. If Jungkook knew that I was a virgin, I could just imagine how much fun he’d have with that info.

Hands gripped my wrists, pinning them to the bed and I turned my face away when I felt the press of his lips on my cheeks. He gripped both my wrists with one hand, keeping them pinned over my head and I flinched when I felt his fingers pulling the fabric of my panties aside, just enough for the blunt head of his cock to press against my slit.

“Yoongi, you there?” Jungkook said softly and Yoongi grunted over the phone. I felt my face flame in embarrassment.

“You’re a sick bastard but I’m used to it. What’s up?” he said casually.

“Remember how we used to wonder just how tight Elena’s cunt was… back when we were in school.”

Fucking monster, I thought in disbelief. I hate him I hate him I hate him….

“Good times…” Yoongi chuckled lightly .

Jungkook pushed into me in one hard thrust and pain shot straight up my spine, my insides burning like he’d fucked me with a knife and not his body. I couldn’t stop the cry of agony that got torn of me, my eyes tearing up and tears spilling over onto my cheeks.

“Damn Jungkook, she okay?” Yoongi’s chuckle made me want to claw his face off, and just the urge to kill was growing inside me.

“Well, I can confirm that it is, in fact just as tight as we thought…” He grunted, thrusting into me at a pace that was inhumane, every push and drag of him rubbing my insides raw and I bit down on the sheets under me, afraid that I would do something absolutely humiliating, like beg him to stop.

“Good, you should let me take that tight ass for a ride someday then. With her permission of course…. I’m a gentleman after all. Big on consent.” He laughed and I swallowed the urge to tell him that I would puncture his balls with a switchblade if he came anywhere near me.  

“Oh, she’s going to do whatever I ask her to….aren’t you baby…” He grunted, “ Turn around so I can see you.”

He pulled out of me, his weight lifting off my body as he moved away. I couldn’t move, limbs numb and insides throbbing in pain . His palm landed on my thigh, hard and the sharp sting of it made me jump.

“I said turn around, I want to see your face when I fuck you.” Jungkook growled. I stayed limp, breathing hard and he grunted impatient, fingers sinking into my hair , yanking me to my knees and the movement made my legs scream in protest.

“How’s she so quiet? You fucked the voice out of her, kook-ah?” Yoongi asked amused and Jungkook pulled me by the hair, dragging me to the center and pushing me down till my head landed on the pillow.

“Hyung you should see her right now, all fucked out …. Like she’s never had a dick in her before.” He shook his head, “ Fucking slut. Take that off and hold yourself open for me.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending and he grabbed both my hands, placing them on my knees.

“Grab your knees and pull your legs back… So I can fuck that tight cunt the way I want to.” He said slowly, like I was a dog he was trying to train and I stared at him , defiantly.

“ Go to hell.” I whispered.

Yoongi’s laughter came from somewhere to the right.

“Your dirty talk needs work, Kook ah… Tell her she’s a precious little kitten and she makes you feel really good…. Bitches love that shit…”

Jungkook hovered over me, grabbing the back of my thighs and spreading them wide enough to make me whimper in pain.

“Is that so babygirl? You want me to tell you that? That you make daddy’s cock feel good?” He cooed, nudging the tip against me again and I had never hated anyone so much in my life. I stared up at his face, and he smiled at me, a cheeky little grin that made his bunny teeth stand out and for a second he looked so deceptively angelic and the glimmer of his piercing caught my eye.

I couldn’t help but swallow, gaze trained on the glint of metal on his tongue.

“You like that?” He grinned suddenly, sticking his tongue out for me to see, I felt my eyes widen at how sinfully good he looked .” Hyung she likes my tongue piercing.”

“Show her how it feels on her clit.” Yoongi laughed and I could barely fully process what I heard before Jungkook was crawling down my body, arms, curling on my thighs and yanking me onto his tongue .

I felt the press of his tongue on my slit, licking right into me and the jolt of pleasure was so unexpected, the pleasure so unwanted and yet so overwhelming and I couldn’t stop the way my body thrashed against the streets, lips parted as I practically mewled out in pleasure.

“Definitely a kitten…” Yoongi called out and I shuddered as Jungkook slipped two fingers into me , the ice cold press of his ring inside me making me jump. I wanted to pull away, grab his hair and yank him off but I couldn’t because it was

“Next time I’ll put the dick piercing in too, yeah? Fuck you with a bit of metal on my cock so you can feel that up there…. ” He laughed into my thighs and I screamed when he bit into the flesh there , hard.

“I’m getting bored… Either turn on facetime so I can at least jerk off to this , or I’m hanging up…” Yoongi called out .

“Hyung she clenches down on me every time she hears your voice… Just stay on for a few more minutes yeah, she tastes so fucking good, I’m gonna cum soon….” Jungkook added another finger, slipping in deep before spreading them apart inside me. I whimpered when he pushed his tongue in between the wet digits, licking into my walls and I could feel the ball of his piercing drag against my walls, ice cold and hard.

Was it fucked up that I did clench down on him again, my body apparently a slave to my base desires even as my mind screamed that he was the absolute worst bastard on the face of the planet.

“Elena, you owe me a blowjob at least for this…” Yoongi called out and I glared at the phone.

“I’ll bite your fucking dick off if you come anywhere near me.” I snapped.

“Fuck, I could get off just to that mouthy fuckhole of hers…..” Yoongi grunted.

Jungkook pulled away, climbing back up over me and lightly slapping my breasts.

“Now, how about you open that mouth and let me fuck it?”

Yoongi snorted from behind us and Jungkook glared at the phone before glaring at me again.

“Well?”

“You want to know how hard I can bite?” I said sharply, the pleasure ebbing away into nothing and resentment taking it place, the momentarily physicality of the situation fading and the reminder of who he was and who I was entering my sex addled brain.

“No.. You’re right…. But you know what, I’m not feeling it anymore. I was right.. you really aren’t qualified to be my whore. Your body…it’s frigid like a fucking popsicle…such a fucking turn off. ” He reached over and hung up on the phone.

“Now…”he whispered, leaning in closer and I yelped, when his fingers closed over my throat..” Shut your mouth and take what I give you like a grateful bitch.”

I swallowed when he pushed into me again, his pace steady as he fucked into me, eyes closed and I realized that he was almost fully dressed having just unbuttoned himself enough to get his cock out.

When he stiffened, spilling into me his eyes blew open and he locked eyes with me, wide eyed and for one horrible second he looked young and vulnerable and hurt.

I blinked as he pulled out, the sticky warm mess of his cum dripping down my inner thighs and onto the sheets.

“Well, that was much worse than I thought it would be.”  He said and I stayed on the bed as he grabbed his phone and buttoned himself back up.

He smirked at me and then reached into his pocket.

I quickly pulled myself together, ignoring the aches and pains and getting to my knees before reaching for my dress on the bed. it was kind of pointless because I still had Hoseok’s shirt on and I wasn’t going to take that off in front of Jungkook.

“Well, I’m a man of my word , Elena so…here you go..just as we discussed.” He tossed a coin on the bed and I stared at the engraved 500 on the shiny surface, feeling my rage swell inside me.

“If you still want to work out a payment plan for your sister’s bills …. Why don’t you come to my office tomorrow?” He tossed his card on the bed before  moving away to the door.

Fucking bastard.

Author’s note : My whole life is filled with regrets . 

[luvreyn]

BEAUTIFUL

Pairing: Eros! Geto Suguru x Psyche! Reader

How beautiful you are, whispers your mother as she brushes your hair. So sweet. Even the gods would envy you.

The Goddesses are much more beautiful than me, Mother. you laugh. Aphrodite especially.

Your mother hushes you. Nonsense! My dear, you are more beautiful than she. and so continued to shower you with praise and affection.

Such is the way you are treated as the youngest daughter and your parents' favorite child. You love them dearly, you truly do, but you love your sisters, too, and it hurts when all they do is ignore your existence because of the favor you receive.

Especially now, while another man boasts of his strength and riches, hoping to enamour you into marrying him.

Your Father, the King, smiles proudly when he catches your gaze. His eyes say: only the best for my child.

In the end, you did not agree to marry the Prince and offered him your hospitality and friendship instead.

The cycle goes on until the day before your father asks for a prophecy. You were sure you were dreaming when you saw a man—a beautiful man—in your bedroom, but when you lit the fire to make sure, the man was gone.

A strange dream it is. To dream of a man as handsome as he was with his beautiful black hair, fine face, and tall structure. He reminds you of Eros, the son of the Goddess Aphrodite herself, but you dismiss the thought.

Why would he even visit you, in person or in dreams?

According to the oracle, you must marry the creature or it will kill you. Your beloved parents, scared, pleaded with you to marry the creature instead. They’d rather deal with a hideous creature than have you dead.

You don’t have the heart to deny them.

Contrary to what you thought, your husband is the sweetest and dearest of them all.

He cooks for you, keeps the house clean, and provides for you and spoils you, though he only does that when you’re not around and on the other side of the curtain, and he also told you to never look or peek at his real face. It pains you that you don’t even know your husband’s name or what he looks like, but if his quiet companionship is all he can offer, then you’re content with that.

"Good evening," you said as you walked into your house.

From the other side of the cloth, he clears his throat. "Good evening. Dinner is ready. "

So you see. He prepared your favorite dishes too.

"Have you eaten? Do you want to join me?" you asks softly.

He seems to be taken aback. "I already ate. Thank you."

You hesitated before eating, observing him from your side of the house. "Won’t you tell me your name?" you ask for the hundredth time.

He’d usually ignore or dodge your question, but he surprises you when he says it. "I am what you care to call me. A creature, your ugly husband, a hideou-"

You immediately cut him off, surprised by his insult to himself. "Why are you being too harsh on yourself?"

"Is it not the truth?" He says it with such a casual tone that you’re almost convinced he doesn’t care.

"Then I shall call you my dear husband, because that is who you are." How infuriating! Why is he so hard on himself?!

He does not say anything anymore, and you feel guilty for pressuring him to answer your questions. When sleep comes to you, you turn to his side of the bed and murmur an apology.

He surprises you yet again by answering. "There’s nothing to forgive you for, my beloved wife. Now have a good night’s sleep. "

That was the sweetest sleep you have had for ages. As your relationship with him progresses, you’re certain that you love him, but you do not know if he loves you.

"Then why don’t you see what he looks like?" your eldest sister whispered when you told them your troubles. After leaving the castle, they begin to treat you nicely.

"But he told me not to look or peek."

"If he loves you, then he wouldn’t mind, would he?" Your second oldest sister whispered in a conspiring tone. "Don’t you want to know what he looks like?"

You want to. You are dying of curiosity, but your dear husband doesn’t want you to see him, and you want to respect his wishes.

"Or are you sure your feelings won’t change when you see his face?"

You gasp, offended.

Of course it won't! You don’t care what he looks like at all. You fall in love with his personality, after all.

But when night comes and he sleeps beside you, you wish you had not sought their counsel at all. Maybe you won’t have this dilemma now.

You’re sure your feelings won’t change, but if he does love you, he wouldn’t mind, right?

You opened the cloth before you could change your mind, gasping when you saw him. Your husband is the beautiful man you saw in your dream. Was that even a dream?

His eyes opened in alarm when he heard you gasp.

"No, no, no," he said in anguish. "I told you not to look!"

"I- I-" you have so many things you wish to say, ask, and apologize for, but he’s already standing up.

The beautiful black hair, the tall structure.

You saw the bow on his back and his beautiful white wings that contrasted with his hair. Oh. It clicked. "Eros?"

He looked at you in sorrow and flew.

You have thousands of regrets, apologies, and prayers on your lips. You wanted to say so many things to him, but he never returned.

And so you begged Aphrodite for a chance to see him again. You begged and begged until Aphrodite relented, giving you trials to complete to prove you’re worthy of her son.

You did it to prove that your love has not changed. The Goddess eyes you with disdain and surprise when you come back, alive, after completing her impossible tasks.

You’re surprising yourself for coming back, too, because you are sure those tasks were meant to discourage and even eliminate you, but luck must be on your side to get the rare flower that you did not even know existed and only heard of from the legends, to never get sick and tired from cleaning her temple for a year without rest and food, and to help a village plauged by contagious disease.

The last trial that she gave you, however, is sure to be the easiest. She wants you to climb the highest mountain and declare your love for her son.

Easiest.

.... is what you thought.

But as you struggle to climb the highest mountain for weeks now, you are made aware that it’s full of beasts and wild animals, and no one ever came here and made it out alive.

No matter.

After you complete this trial, Aphrodite vowed to let you see Eros, whom she forbade from seeing or contacting you again after their deal was broken.

You’re ashamed that it is your fault that Eros lost the deal to stay as your husband.

The view at the top is astounding after weeks (or has it been months?) of climbing it, and you want to lose yourself in it. It is so beautiful that it’s such a shame to be the only one to see it, and it’s a miracle that you can climb the mountain without encountering trouble.

As you’re about to shout your love, the ground you’re standing on breaks, and now you’re falling to your death.

You screamed. You had so many things you wanted to say, but you declared your love for him instead.

At least let him believe it after you betrayed his trust.

You closed your eyes and waited for death, but it did not come.

The wind is cold, but the body against yours and the arms holding onto you are warm.

Ah, you opened your eyes. "My dear husband."

He tightened his hold on you and flew off into the morning sky. He whispers in adoration, "How I’ve missed you, my beloved wife."

Tagging: @ice-icebaby​

[anne-i-write]

moriarty the patriot headcannons pt. 1

| requested by anon: Can you write about all male characters in moriarty has a same look of their  children and hpw many children they want? |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader; sebastian x reader; fred x reader

word count: 2397

pt. 2: 221b boys

a/n: I DONT KNOW WHY I DIDNT WRITE THIS EARLIER IM SO SORRY THIS REQUEST HAS LITERALLY BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS

william: 487 words

with his whole plan to clean the world of the filthy nobles, william never really stopped to think about having children

well, until he met you

you both were in town one day and he saw you fondly watching a child speak with her mother

“i think two children would be nice”

“i didn’t even ask”

“i know, but the look you gave that mother was telling enough”

n e ways he is a simp and he did eventually give you what you wanted

fast forward a few years, you have two children: a boy and a girl

and they look exactly like their father

like,, it lowkey pains you how much they physically take after their father

you wanted to be like “oh they have your personality, but they look just like me!”

no

granted, your son took after you in an emotional sense but your daughter was a daddy’s girl through and through

like she looks like him, she acts like him, speaks like him, she even EATS like him

ok but the men w your children

fred is a freaking sweetheart ok

like he’ll watch over the kids when no one has the time and they love him too so they’ll help out in the garden which you are SO thankful for

tbh they only like uncle albert bc he brings them lil trinkets from when he gets back from london LMAO

louis doesn’t show it, but he absolutely adores your children and makes extra snacks for them at tea time

you caught onto this at one point bc for some REASON your kids would not stop bouncing off of the walls before bed and they told you uncle louis gave them chocolate

and sebastian loves messing w your kids bc,,, sebastian

but he accidentally made your son cry ONCE and he was at the mercy of every adult in the moriarty estate including the boy’s younger sister

needless to say, he watched his actions and words around your children after that

now, william

i’m just gonna say this straight out: most of the men never really thought about having kids (save john and albert)

but when you finally had kids, william had a different outlook on life

like fr,, this man works overtime now trying to get rid of the filth that is called nobles

he doesn’t want his kids to be raised in a world where just because you have more money than another means you get to look down on them

you still instill in them those good morals ofc

he also tries to be very present in their lives since he and his brother were raised as orphans

when he was younger, he didn’t mind it all much

but now that he had this small family and a brighter future, he did everything in his power to make sure they’re happy and grow up in a cleaner and kinder world

louis: 320 words

it took you a week to get him to at LEAST humor you

“if you could, how many kids do you want?”

“none”

like, this guy is so dedicated to his brother and his cause it is a WONDER you somehow wormed your way into his heart

but you did and honestly, the brothers are actually very happy that you’re with them

william especially

louis rarely emotes but when you came into their lives, you got louis pissed at one point and everyone was like,,,, wtf?? he has emotions???

anyways, his answer is one kid LMAO

and when you get that one kid, he looks just like louis

yall already KNOW that he’s ready to die for that child as soon as louis holds him in his arms

the only kid sebastian wouldnt even try to mess with

he can deal with william’s albert’s or fred’s kids but louis lowkey intimidates him so he’s as nice as he can be

that being said, louis teaches his kid how to properly handle stuff around the house

you want to cry bc ur son is just so??? the little kid just loves helping out no matter how small the task and he’s just so cute it hurts

even sebastian’s kinda like,, “aight he’s the only kid i will tolerate”

louis grew up with only his brothers so he also wants to give his son a shot at a normal family

is actually aware at how he thinks he’s indispensable for william’s cause and he doesn’t want his son to end up like him

he also teaches his son some badass fighting moves

oh and louis smiles a lot more too

cried bc his son saw the scar he got on his cheek, rubbed some dirt on his lil face and said “i have daddy’s cool scar now”

all in all his son is the best thing to happen to all of you

albert: 505 words

same as louis in the fact that it takes him a week to answer

“you know you haven’t even answered my question”

“i’m sorry, what did you say?”

“how many kids do you want?”

genuinely takes time to ponder that question

he hadn’t thought of that since his family adopted william and louis

but with you?

“i think two darling girls who take after their mother is enough for me”

pls he’d be so sweet 🥺🥺🥺

you two end up having a girl and a boy, who look just like their father

and tbh, you’re not even mad

you love them so much so when albert comes back north, the three of you are ecstatic

the happiness was short lived for albert tho

he found his son spending time with william and there’s nothing bad right????

“where’s your sister?”

“she’s with mr. moran”

his heart DROPPED

out of all the people in the manor

HIM

he sees the two running around the garden

it all happened as soon as albert’s daughter went up to sebastian and said “you’re very pretty! you’re my knight now!”

he decided to “adopt” the little girl and now he’s lowkey whipped

you found albert staring at sebastian playing with his daughter and updated him about everything going on

“but him??”

“he’s just a big softie for her let it go”

isn’t really surprised when he finds out they can fight a little

actually glad that they can hold their own, God forbid anything happens to them

otherwise mi6 has to deal w family matters lmao

“albert, she only tripped”

“you shouldve seen the fear in her eyes as she fell”

“IT WAS A STRAY COBBLESTONE”

would raise hell if anyone even THOUGHT ill of his kids

william and louis are the doting uncles

william more so than louis bc your kids have never seen louis smile

now they’re on a mission to make uncle louis smile

louis was on child duty one day and they managed to slip away

omyGOD he was stressed but also,, extremely worried

so when he found them he had the most genuine smile on his face

your daughter was like (・∀・)

she loves uncle louis

ofc your son adores his dad like,,, who else wouldn't feel awesome at the age of 10 if you found out your dad was a high ranking general

feels superior to sebastian bc of his dad

lmao this 4’5 kid thinks he can rule sebastian for some odd reason

the house is always dirty bc him and sebastian always prank each other

your daughter is trying to catch a butterfly but she can’t so fred helps

instantly loves fred

“is that what heartbreak is”

“i guess that’s what happens when you try to get close to my kids colonel”

albert is kind of afraid of turning into his dad but he has you and everyone else to remind him that: no you are not your father, you are so much better than him

loves your family with his entire being

sebastian: 844 words

“i see you looking at those kids and the answer is none”

lmao you’ll get so pouty around him bc you want kids dammit

that and he spoils you to no end so that's why you’re pouty lol

“fine we’ll only do one kid and bc one kid is all i can tolerate”

bruh

this man gives you three in four years LMFAO

two boys a year apart and a girl in the fourth year

you wanted to smack sebastian

when the two boys grew up, it was obvious they were already taking after their father in the physical sense

it was terrifying

they genuinely look like mini sebastians and you know everyone in the manor is afraid that you two birthed satan

and the satan was your eldest one

he’s just a feral sebastian moran in a tiny body

your second son, god bless him, looked just like his father but with fred’s temperament

and see, you were fine with your sons looking like their father

it was FINE right

you prayed to God that your third child would have at least some physical resemblance to you

your daughter was birthed, she grew up

and you cried

“HOW DO THEY ALL LOOK LIKE YOU”

“i’ve got some strong genetics, baby”

you sulk for a lil bit

but you accept it anyway because you love your goddamn kids

thankfully, your second and youngest child are both soft spoken and it's only your husband and his tiny clone bringing hell to earth

smacking sebastian bc all of your children suddenly started swearing up a storm at each other

“WHYD YOU HIT ME”

“YOURE THE ONLY ONE WHO SWEARS AROUND THE KIDS”

finally sitting down and trying to convince them to stop swearing

“father does it!”

“your father’s stupid”

speaking of your daughter

she’s his little princess and no he will not take criticism

spoils her more than he spoils you

did she glance at a toy at a passing store?

he buys more toys than he should from said store

you have to physically hide some of his money bc there is only so much you can buy

and her older brothers are so caring you want to sob

if a person accidentally shoved her over bc she was tiny and they couldn’t see her

oh boy

get ready to restrain them like chihuahuas

“little sister will be protected at all costs”

since his second son is so different from him, sebastian actively makes time to talk about what the little boy is doing and what he’s getting from it

doesn’t want to be pushy and suffocating like his dad was so when his younger kid does want to be left alone to his devices, sebastian does so

but honestly loves that your second son is so literate

lddhsajdsfk what yall dont know is that they’re all in cahoots

kinda funny to see them all together bc they all take after their father so much it's like having three tiny sebastians go around town

anyways,,,, yall know the promised neverland right

you got ray, norman, and emma

granted one of them wasn’t as smart as ray but he definitely knew what stealth was

regular sibling rivalry was still a thing but if they could smell the pudding from the kitchen, they know they have to work together

sebastian caught his eldest smuggling biscuits into a small bag

he had half a mind to scold him

but then he ended up giving tips TO ALL HIS CHILDREN on how not to get caught next time—

bc of this they beg him to tell them some stories from afghanistan bc “there’s no way a man as old as dad knows this many stealth tactics”

louis is so fed up lmao

albert is in london most of the time so he just thanks the lord that he doesn’t have to deal w the propaganda that sebastian feeds his children about how “mr. albert is a bad man”

william is fine w it as long as they don’t trash the library

your younger ones love the library so they would cry at the thought of one of the books losing any of the pages

your second and your daughter are definitely the moriartys’ favorites

they don’t show it, but you just KNOW

your eldest could care less about that though

as long as you and his father still love him

and of course you both do

and fred is definitely your youngers favorite

they like to hang out in the garden

ok they still fight all the time though

just because your second child is soft spoken doesn't mean he’s afraid to throw hands

their sister likes to join in for the hell of it

but if someone wrongs any of the children

just because the younger ones are the moriartys’ favorite, doesn’t mean that they’re not gonna hunt someone down if they even think about trying to hurt the eldest too

yeah,,, good luck to them and their families

they got the entire moriarty estate coming after them

fred: 241 words

cmon yall are like,, young

but you did ask him bc you were curious if he thought about it

he wants one

and when yall do have the kid, you guys actually do have one kid and its a girl

since you both are young, you can immediately see a resemblance between her and her father

everyone who meets her would die for her

ABSOLUTE CUTIE

especially when she walks around the garden w her hand in her dad’s and he’s showing her all the plants and telling her how to take care of them

needless to say she grows up loving plants

any type of plant

the boys love giving her flowers or anything from bc she has the biggest smile every single time

no matter if it’s just a single rose or a rock

this was found out one time when sebastian gave her a rock bc everyone else had given her like,, two roses each

was afraid she was gonna cry

“thank you so much mr. moran! i will treasure this until i get old!”

she was like 4 at the time

and had the widest smile you’ve ever seen on her

guys u don’t understand she smiles a lot but this was like,, genuine happiness

but everyone was just,, i will destroy the world and myself if anything happens to her

fr it’s just sunshines and rainbows every single time she’s around

everyone just loves her ok

moriarty the patriot general taglist: @zoehanji

[pinkmirth]

can i req some dad reiner fluff? i feel like he would have a lot of kids bc of the breeding kink 🥴 but yeah just some cute stuff pls thank uuuu!!

THE THOUGHT OF REINER BEING FATHER JUST DOES SOMETHING TO ME I- AJHSJS

THANK YOU SM FOR REQUESTING, ANON!! LET'S GET CAUGHT UP IN THE REINER BRAINROT TOGETHER <3

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—DAD REINER!

 (MODERN AU + MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY + FEMALE BODIED READER + FLUFF + SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE + REINER BEING THE BEST DAD EVER DUH + TW: SLIGHT LANGUAGE)

═════════°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═════════

Dad Reiner who was such a hot mess moments before he became a father to begin with. The pair of you are situated inside a hospital room, occupied with things much bigger than a sprained ankle. He stood alongside you, his beloved, all the while; Encouraging your efforts and attempting to ease your pain with the squeeze of your hand within his bigger one. As fretful as he feels, it's no surprise that Reiner ends up passing out a good few times, and he wasn't even the one in labor. Though, the hard part is now over, and all his worry has subsided.

Dad Reiner who recalls whimpering, weakly grinning, and eventually bawling of joy when holding his child for the first time. You'd never seen his cries mingled with such joy before. He cradles yours and his newborn within firm forearms and large, mindful hands. The pair of you sob and smile, ogle your baby with a relieved, content thrum in your heart. You allow Reiner to attempt squeezing into the hospital bed beside you, as broad and weighty as he is, with your child being held right between you and him. He’s a hot mess, but an overjoyed one who has you; and little Reiner x [Y/N] junior 🥺

Dad Reiner who converses with you for days before ultimately deciding on a name for yours and his daughter— Joyce Braun. He contemplated on “Karina”, the name of his dear mother. Though, he wants his little girl to be better than any past generation, and rather goes with a more revitalizing name, one that holds a simple, but deep meaning in his perspective. As obvious as it sounds, the name means “Joyful”. That's all he wants; for his kid to be happy in this life, happier than he ever was. Therefore, he bases her name, the root of his dear child’s identity, on cheerfulness.

Dad Reiner who tends to grow somewhat frustrated. Not with you of course, not even with Joyce’s incessant wailing in the early hours of the morning, but with himself. It wasn't as though he did anything wrong, he simply hopes that he won't. Begs himself not to fuck up with this whole “Parent” thing. If it wasn’t clear enough, Reiner wants to be nothing like his own father. He’ll never, ever shoo his child away and disregard them, but instead use those same hands to hold, guide, and lift them up. It doesn't take long for the blonde to snap out of his funk, because he's sure that he can become all the better for the sake of his little family.

Dad Reiner who wakes to your still, ethereal-like form every morning, and it's enough to make his day. A kiss to your neck, a nibble along your earlobe, and a couple repetitive rubs to your waist and thighs are enough to stir you right awake. And if that isn't the case, then it's usually the other way around; You pressing soft, lengthy kisses to his sharp, attractive cheekbones. Despite who arises first, there’s always one thing that's bound to happen— Joyce making her arrival into the bedroom via crawl, with a babble and a cute, happy little shriek upon seeing her parents.

The pair of you have no clue as to how she manages to make her way over to your room every time, but you're simply glad that she does so safely. It's Reiner’s cue to leap out of bed and scoop her off of the carpet and into his awaiting arms, clad in nothing but a white tee and the baggiest sweats. He appears disheveled, but it's still clear to see the main striking similarity between him and his pretty little daughter; Those amber brown eyes that hold the same warm, yellowish hue as his do.

He rocks the giggling one-year old, back and forth and right back again, gazing upon his squirming bundle of joy until you mention that he’s been doing so for a whole ten minutes. He grows sheepish and merely chuckles in reply, resting Joyce’s head upon his firm chest with a sigh. He could do this for ten hours more if it were up to him.

Dad Reiner who knocked you up a couple more times, and real damn good at that. There’s something of a breeding fetish that he’s got on him, which is the reason why your little family is now two kids larger. There’s Joyce, who’s now seven years old, along with her two baby brothers, the pair being a mere one year apart from the other. You and Reiner no longer have to worry about checking on Joyce in her crib, for she sleeps on her own bed now, like the “big girl” she claims to be.

Though, the boys now have you both occupied, and you’re lucky to have an older daughter who’s so understanding and rarely ever  grows jealous. Joyce, your girl who’s on more of the rambunctious side but ironically never pleads for attention, has been spending much more quality time with Reiner. Both you and him are busy with the boys, but the blonde tends to have free time on his hands every now and then. Besides, someone’s got to keep Joyce company.

Reiner happily obliges, and makes this father-daughter time worthwhile. Wholesome picnics to the park that always end in races back to the car and Reiner being a damned klutz and dropping his sandwich. Having a “spa day”, filled with Reiner’s not-so-great attempts at doing his girl’s hair, messy manicures and a hefty bag of makeup that Joyce “borrowed” from you. He spoils the girl as if the lot of you are rich (and since Reiner’s always got a hefty load of spare cash, you technically are), but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dad Reiner who’s a lot more used to this “dad” thing now, since it’s been a couple good years down the line. You and him have amazing bonds with each of your kids, but they seem to latch onto Reiner’s large, broad body at any given time a lot more than they do you. Joyce is twelve, the brothers are five and six, and Reiner’s officially a DILF— The finest one at that. His stubble stays nicely trimmed, along with the subtle creases at his eyes becoming a little more distinctive. Goes to work, and sometimes takes the kid’s lunches instead of his own, because that's just the Reiner Way.

He’s the ultimate father in practically every situation, even when looking out for peers and comrades. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just that habits easily stick with Reiner, and it’s rather difficult for him to let them go. Besides, with three kids, how do you expect him to not be in “dad mode”?

Dad Reiner who utterly loves having random little talks with his kids, and never invalidates them, not for one second. It’s almost as though he can see things in their perspective, and they don’t know anyone else better to vent to other than their dad and mom. Though, when they tend to babble on about something that’s rather popular within their generation, it gets hard for him to catch up. They proceed to call him “old” and receive a good chase around the house before they get caught and looped into a tickle attack, and that's basically the worst thing imaginable if you’re in the Braun family. The reason being is Reiner’s unparalleled speed, despite his age; Thirties to early forties, but he’s still extremely fit, and has no problem running a mile if he has to.

Dad Reiner who’s in love with his family and the person they’ve gradually helped him become. You cherish him and your kids like none other, and he does the same. Sometimes it abruptly dawns on him; He’s a dad, and he’s actually a good one, who would’ve known? He smiles to himself, allowing his amber eyes to flit over to wherever you are before his soft grin grows wider. You look back, blow a kiss, and he does the same. The action is exchanged before he strides over to give you the real deal— Though, your sweet little peck is all cut short when Joyce and the boys skip in and start making kissy noises, with you and Reiner laughing all the while.

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“Papa,” Gale, the youngest son of the bunch, calls aloud and gains his father’s attention. Reiner peers up from his book and gives a brief, questioning response. “Yes, dove?” It’s a simple, sweet nickname; One that he calls you, Joyce, and the boys.

“Mommy’s in the bathroom crying.” The blonde drops his novel with an punctuating hitch of his breath, the book falling upon the couch with a dull thump. “—Why? Is she alright?” Reiner, the man who generally keeps himself rather poised, is now frantic, sharp brows downturned at his son's statement.

“Uh, I dunno. She’s crying, but smiling too.” This then causes Reiner’s brows to furrow. “Smiling, you say?”

“Yeah. Can we go out to get ice cream today? I wanna get, uh.. Chocolate chip, please!”

Reiner lets a brief laugh slip loose at Gale’s query, but he has to prioritize his wife over a summertime snack. He then begins to make a beeline towards the bathroom, in search of you. “Soon enough, dove. I’ve got to go up there and check on your momma first, alright—?”

Gale then shrugs and hops onto the couch, little feet padding along the spacey seat as the leather creases underneath his weight.

“By the way, Papa,” Reiner then pauses, open to any vital information his son could give, “she has this funny stick thingy in her hand. It’s got two little lines on it and stuff.”

Reiner chokes on his breath, lower lip beginning to tremble and quirk into a smile. If the case is what he thinks it is, he’s got all the reason to bust out with the teary eyes and jovial whimpers, just as he did when receiving the news of his three expected children in the past.

“A stick..?”

“Mhm,” hums Gale, proceeding to jump upon the dark brown couch, “Mama probably wants some chocolate chip ice cream too.”

═════════°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═════════

[blu-joons]

When He Looks After Your Children Alone ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

His eyes widened as he walked back into the kitchen to the state your two youngest children had made of their food on the floor and their seats. “You’re never this messy,” Jin muttered under his breath, “why are you like this for me?”

“What?” Your daughter asked innocently as Jin grabbed the paper and wipes to clean it up.

His head shook, kissing against the top of her head, “you like causing trouble for daddy, don’t you?”

“Me?” She continued to tease, staring across at her brother who matched her own clueless expression. “We didn’t do anything wrong; we just ate our dinner.”

“Sassy like your father too,” he frowned, kneeling down on the floor. “Did you even manage to eat any of this?”

His question was answered when his son opened his mouth to reveal a mouthful of food. “Yeah!” He spluttered, only adding to the mess for Jin to clean up.

“Alright, let’s stop talking and eat,” Jin chuckled, tapping the top of his head, “it’s like cleaning up a zoo in here.”

“We’re not animals,” your daughter smartly responded, rendering Jin speechless.

“No, you’re beautiful humans little one.”

Yoongi:

The sight of the living room left Yoongi stunned, noticing the toybox of your children turned upside down, leaving the toys all over the floor. “My doll fell right to the bottom,” your son announced, holding up the toy he searched for.

“Your mum will be home in a minute,” Yoongi sighed, kneeling down to pick up a couple of the toys.

Your daughter followed behind Yoongi, noticing the mess. “She won’t like the house being this untidy.”

“Exactly,” Yoongi frowned, looking between the two of them. “Do you reckon we could clear up the toys and then I promise we can all play with our toys.”

“But I want to play with my doll now,” your son cried out, crawling to the back of the room. “Y/D/N can help you clean up; she’s not doing anything.”

Yoongi’s head shook, taking the doll from his son. “You’re the one that caused this mess, so you can help clear it.”

“I’ll tell mummy,” your son continued to whine, but Yoongi’s head shook, refusing to let him get away with doing nothing.”

“I’ll tell mummy your trouble,” he challenged, watching your son’s eyes widen.

“Fine, I guess I’ll help.”

Hoseok:

His arms wrapped around his two girls who curled into either side of his chest, gripping tightly onto their blankets as their eyes threatened to close. “Daddy, can you sing to us?” Your eldest whispered up to her father.

“I don’t sing,” he reminded them yet again, “I don’t think a rap is good to get to sleep.”

Your other daughter’s head shook, glancing up at him. “You can sing, that’s why you’re famous.”

“Of course,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the tops of both of their heads. “Is there a song you can agree on for daddy to sing you to sleep then?”

“Butterfly,” your youngest called out, but straight away your eldest groaned, shaking her head across at her sister. “What’s wrong with butterfly?”

She let go of a sigh, “I prefer when daddy sings Mikrokosmos, it reminds me of when we went to go and watch him in the concert with uncles.”

“How about I sing both?” He suggested, determined to keep the peace between the two of them. “I can do a medley of the two to keep you both happy.”

“But Mikrokosmos first,” your daughter quickly chimed, making Hobi chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll choose a different song first.”

Namjoon:

He couldn’t help but groan as the shrieks of your three children playing downstairs gave him no peace to carry on with trying to get his lyrics written. “What’s wrong?” Your eldest asked when Namjoon sighed yet again.

“You’re so noisy,” he laughed loudly, “how does your mum work with all of this noise every day?”

Your youngest shrugged beside him, “mummy plays with us too, not just sit on her computer all day.”

“Does she?” Namjoon frowned, noticing the third spin around to nod in agreement with their siblings. “I guess I have been a bit neglectful of you this morning.”

“What if we help you write a song?” The eldest of the trio suggested, “you always say that you want us to be like you.”

Namjoon hummed, glancing at the three of them, “why don’t you grab a pen and some paper, and we can see if we can come up with something good to write?”

“I’m on it!” Your youngest yelled, racing through the house. “Maybe we could be the ones to write BTS’ next hit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Namjoon smiled, “but it’s worth a try maybe.”

“Don’t underestimate us daddy.”

Jimin:

His eyes lit up when he noticed the drawings your two sons had drawn, squinting his eyes to try and figure out what exactly it was. “What have your drawn?” Jimin asked, trying not to hurt their feelings with his question.

“It’s mum,” the eldest of the two pointed out, as if it was far too obvious for Jimin to doubt.

Jimin looked a little closer, still struggling to see the resemblance. “How come you’ve drawn mummy?”

“We miss her,” the younger announced, “we want to give her a present for when she came back from her work trip so she wouldn’t forget us.”

“She’s not forgetting you,” Jimin quickly assured the two of them, “she’s only been gone for two days, it’s impossible to forget you.”

Their two sets of eyes turned up to look adoringly at their father. “Do you think mummy would like to come home and see our paintings up on the wall.”

“Of course, I do,” Jimin grinned, knowing how much you savoured all of their work. “We can put them all up in the living room.”

“Really?” The elder asked in slight disbelief, “can we make more for her?”

“We can make plenty.”

Taehyung:

When you were called into work last minute, Taehyung was terrified about being the only parent, waiting anxiously for you to come home that evening. “So, how was everything?” You asked him and your children as you sat to dinner.

“We had fun,” Taehyung began, trying to stop his children to spoiling the truth about the day to you.

Your head nodded, looking across at your three kids. “Did you have fun with daddy, was he good?”

“Well,” your eldest stuttered, feeling Taehyung’s eyes stare across at him. “It was a little bit chaotic; daddy definitely needs you mummy to look after us.”

“He broke some of the dinner plates,” the middle child interjected, “and I’m pretty sure he burnt our dinner, it was a bit black.”

Your eyes widened, glaring across at Taehyung. “How did you manage to burn their lunch? It’s one of the simplest meals to make, which is why I chose it.”

“It’s not as easy as you make it look,” he protested, “and they were no help, all they did was laugh at me not help me.”

“They’re children,” you reminded him, “what more did you possibly expect from them?”

“Single parenting is not for me.”

Jungkook:

Your two daughters groaned as Jungkook finally pulled out the karaoke machine, much to their dismay. “We don’t want to sing,” the eldest cried out, “we always just end up listening to you singing to us instead dad.”

“It’s fun,” he protested, plugging the machine in. “And you love to hear me sing? You always ask me.”

Both of their heads shook, “we enjoy going to your concerts, not singing in our living room together.”

“Mum would never do this with us,” the other chimed in, rolling their eyes. “She does things that all of us want to do, not just what she wants to do.”

“What does she do?” Jungkook asked them, refusing to acknowledge that you might just be the better parent of the two.

Their eyes looked across at each other, “she always takes us to the park, and she knows how much we love to bake, that’s why you always come home to cake.”

“Then, let’s make a cake,” Jungkook established, unplugging the machine. “If mummy can make a cake, then daddy can also make a cake.”

“Can you make a cake?” Your daughter squirmed, staring hopelessly at him.

“Of course, I can make a cake.”

---

Masterlist

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-six

Did anyone say ex-wife drama? This is only a sprinkle, and more will come. Oops

Also y’all, writing kids is not my strong suit whatsoever. I’m the youngest, so I never grew up around babies/kids because I was the baby. So I realize Jack might be a little aged up here (think like kindergarten/1st grade), but that’s fine because Foyet and all that stuff won’t be in this fic (bc I started writing this fic when I was still in like s2 of the show)

Chapter title comes from “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift! xx.

Warnings: talk of infertility (sorry to spoil, but wanted to put that here in case that’s sensitive for anyone)

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Six: I can see the end, as it begins

After cleaning up, Aaron goes to use the bathroom while you make your way out into the kitchen, where your mom is still loudly putting away groceries.

She eyes you carefully from the counter where she’s putting coffee in the cabinet above your Keurig. “Where’s your crutch?”

Damn. “Uhhh.” You look around and find it still leaned against the wall in the living room. “Oops?” You smile sheepishly.

“You need to use it,” she says gently. “At least for a little while.”

“I’m fine, Mom, I swear.” The groan of pain you let out as you hoist yourself up onto one of the stools behind the counter says otherwise. But neither of you say anything.

“Alright…” She exhales, but still doesn’t look convinced, though she does drop the subject for now. As she puts dishwasher soap under the sink, she asks, “Did you use protection?”

There it is. “Oh my God,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands. “I’m twenty-three!”

“And? STDs don’t have an expiration date!” She argues, kicking the cabinet door closed with her knee. “Just because you can’t get pregnant doesn’t mean you can’t get STDs, you know that.”

You know she’s right. But you also know that Aaron would’ve told you if he wasn’t clean. And you’re definitely clean, considering you haven’t done anything with anyone other than Trevor – and those tests came back clean after that.

“I know,” you say anyway, humoring her. You pause, lowering your voice. “I haven’t told him about that yet, so…please don’t say anything.”

She nods slowly, whispering too, “You’re gonna have to tell him at some point.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “At some point, which isn’t today.”

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Do you want me to stay another night?”

You glance at the time and nod. “You don’t need to drive anymore. You’ve done a lot the past couple days.”

“Agreed,” she chuckles.

Aaron returns from the bathroom a moment later, walking up behind you. But this time, he makes sure you see him, and he waits until you meet his eyes before he wraps an arm around your waist.

The small, kind gesture makes you smile.

“I just got a call,” he says, and you know that means nothing good.

“Oh no,” you sigh, turning your head to look up at him. “Who killed who?”

He laughs. “Not that kind of call. Haley called.”

Your mom looks up at the mention of another woman.

Aaron notices. “My ex-wife,” he clarifies before looking back at you. “Jack talked to her this morning about seeing if I would pick him up from school, so I’m gonna surprise him.” He pauses. “Would you…like to come with?”

Your face softens at the offer. Your heart aches. He wants you to meet Jack. He wants you to meet his son.

But you can’t. Not right now.

“Thank you, but I’m really tired,” you smile softly, hoping he won’t profile you right now. “You go ahead. Mom and I are gonna have a movie marathon.”

“Mamma Mia!?” Your mom asks excitedly.

“Duh,” you grin. “What else are we supposed to watch?”

Aaron’s hand squeezes your waist gently. “That sounds fun,” he chuckles. “Well, I need to head out since I’m picking him up. I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, closing your eyes when his lips softly meet yours.

“Nice to see you again,” Aaron waves to your mom. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before you leave, but if not.” He walks around the counter and wraps her in a hug. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

She swats his chest as he steps away. “You’ve done enough, Aaron. Get outta here.”

He laughs, stopping to give you one more kiss before he’s out the door.

A few moments after the door has closed, your mom gives you another look. “Jack is his son?”

“Yeah.”

“You need to tell him.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know.”

+++

When you were 19, you had your life figured out. Kind of.

You thought you did, at least. You had a degree. You had applied to a ton of jobs (dream jobs, not just any jobs, dream jobs) and gotten many callbacks. You had a fiancé who loved you.

After a childhood from Hell, you were finally on the other side. You were finally out of the darkness.

Until Trevor threw you right back in the deep end.

It started as very subtle comments that you were able to brush away. Then they became more persistent. And then he stopped asking. He took. Whatever he wanted.

And you let him. At the end of the day, you let him do it.

You let him take your innocence, but you knew you had to get out of there as soon as you could. Which is why you threw the stupid engagement ring at him that night. Hit him right on the forehead, a perfect shot. You wanted to do more. Wanted to punch him in the nose, scream at him until he understood how he fucked you up. But you didn’t.

You left. You went to Virginia. Worked in the BCI. Tried to make sense of your life once again after it had been uprooted and toyed with and slashed until you had nothing left but threads of who you used to be. What you used to want.

You used to want it all. The stable, 9-5 job, the kids, the picket fence, the dog and maybe a cat or two. The minivan. The dream wedding, dream anniversaries, celebrating ten years, then twenty, then thirty, and more.

Trevor ruined it all.

But so did your body.

You’ll never forget the day you got the news.

After Trevor raped you—Months after, you had the sickening thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant. The thought haunted you. You were in Virginia already, working at the BCI, living on your own, with Trevor in your rearview.

But one sleepless night, you had the dark thought that you were pregnant. You’ve heard of some women being able to tell. Call it a mother’s intuition, or whatever you want, but you were paranoid. You swore you felt…something growing.

It was just your paranoia, of course, because after a trip to the doctor, you found out that you can’t get pregnant.

You just can’t.

You don’t remember what disorder or diagnosis or whatever it was that was thrown around. All you remember is that it isn’t life threatening, but you can’t have kids.

You weren’t pregnant, and you wouldn’t ever be pregnant.

You were elated, to say the least. You were practically jumping with joy. You weren’t carrying your abusive, ex-fiancé’s kid. That’s the best news you ever could’ve gotten.

And with Trevor out of the picture, it’s not like you had your sight set on anyone else who you might like to have kids with. And after the fiasco that was your relationship with Trevor, it’s not like you even wanted kids anymore.

But now…

You never thought you’d end up with someone again, let alone someone like Aaron. Someone who treats you right, who is as crazy about you (if not more) as you are about him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find a love like this.

But now you have. Now you have it. Now, he’s right beside you. Metaphorically, obviously, because right now he’s actually out getting ice cream with Jack – you know because he’s been sending pictures and Jack has vanilla ice cream all over his face.

The pictures made you smile. Your mom, too. But you didn’t reply to his text. You want him to spend time with Jack – or at least that’s the excuse you tell yourself.

The truth is that you don’t know what to say. Anything that you say feels wrong when it comes to kids.

You know your mom is right. You know you’ll need to tell Aaron eventually. And you will, you really will. Because he deserves to know, especially if he wants more kids. You don’t know if he does, though. He might be fine with just the one. But you don’t know. You won’t know until you talk to him.

But what if he doesn’t want you anymore?

+++

Aaron checks his phone once more, but there’s no reply from you. He tries not to think too much about it. You’re probably watching a movie with your mom and just haven’t looked at your messages yet.

He tries not to think the worst because your mom is there with you. You’re okay now.

“Why can’t I spend the night?” Jack whines as Aaron helps him unbuckle. They’re back at the house now. The house Aaron used to live at with Haley and Jack but is now only theirs.

He didn’t want to fight over the house in the divorce. Or anything. He signed it without any resistance. He knew it was useless. He doesn’t have the need for a house this big, anyway. It’s better that Haley and Jack stay here, that Jack stays in his same bedroom, in his same environment. Enough was changing with Aaron and Haley separating.

It does feel weird, though, every time Aaron steps back inside. It’s like he’s stepping back in time. Back to when he and Haley were still married, still making it work. But then Haley started redecorating, moving things around no doubt to make the place her own and to ward off the memories of her and Aaron.

“Because, buddy, I have to go to work tomorrow, and you have school,” Aaron says, stepping back and holding the door (because Jack likes to get out of his seat on his own now).

Jack climbs out of his car seat and hops down onto the ground. “Can you pick me up again tomorrow?”

Aaron shuts the door with a sigh. “I’ll see.”

“That just means you won’t,” Jack mumbles quietly, walking up the driveway.

Aaron sighs again but doesn’t try to argue with his son. Because Jack is right. It just means he won’t be able to, and Aaron really needs to stop trying to “soften the blow” when it comes to this stuff. He thinks he’s doing Jack a favor by leaving it open-ended, but it’s very obviously not working out that way.

Haley opens the front door and welcomes Jack inside with a pat on his head. She tries to hug him, but he pushes past her with a small, “Hi Mom.”

Aaron shakes his head. “He wanted me to pick him up tomorrow, too.”

She nods silently. “Oh.” She says nothing else. She knows Aaron won’t be able to. She knows days like today are more than rare.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “How are you?”

“Good,” Haley says. “You?”

“Good,” Aaron says with a shrug. The small talk always kills him, but he doesn’t know what he expects at this point.

“How is…the agent of yours? She was hurt, right?”

Aaron forgot he told Haley that. When she had texted to ask if he could get Jack from school today, she was asking on a whim, and expected a no. But when he said he could, Haley asked how he randomly had the day off. So, he told her the truth. An agent was injured, shot in the leg, so things were slow for now, mostly paperwork and phone calls, and that he needed a break.

He did not tell Haley that he was just at your apartment, though. Even though the whole team was there.

“She’s better,” he says. “She’s back home now, and the doctors said it should be a smooth recovery from here on out.”

He tries not to have too much emotion in his voice. Haley might not be a profiler, but she has known him since high school. She knows his voice.

“That’s good,” she replies, and if she’s suspicious, Aaron sure as hell can’t tell. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure you’ve got a lot going on.”

He doesn’t, not really. “Yeah,” he says anyway. “Thank you for letting me pick him up today.” He shouldn’t have to thank her for that, but he still does.

“Thanks for doing it,” she smiles. “It really made Jack’s day. Even if he is grumpy right now.”

“Tell him I love him, please,” Aaron sighs. “See you.”

“Bye, Aaron.”

He turns to leave, and he hears the door close. His footsteps falter, even though they shouldn’t.

She’s stopped watching him go.

Something in his chest twists painfully, the idea that that part of his life really is behind him, completely, permanently. Even though he’s in love with you, he’d be a liar if he said when he’s back here, he doesn’t reminisce about how it used to be with Haley.

But it won’t ever be that way again, so he gets in his car, and drives away, closing the gate behind him.

Next chapter

[sailorshadzter]

a random one shot in which i twist the entire plot of game of thrones just because i can.

inspired by the prompt: a kiss to your lover's knuckle before a dance.

dont ask me how THIS came from that, it just did LOL

He finds her among the others, dressed in a silk gown of sapphire, made from a bolt of fabric he'd left in her rooms several weeks before. She's laughing, rosy lips curving as she pivots ever so slight, just enough that their eyes find each other's. Her laugh does not fade, but her eyes darken, pink tongue escaping to moisten those lips that only the night before had agonized him in the best of ways. "Your grace," Robb Stark says as he approaches, bowing low before Jon as he falls into place before them. She on the other hand does not move, not at first, smiling as if she holds onto a secret before she sinks into a curtsy, though she never once pulls her eyes from his face.

The Stark siblings have been South for nearly six months now, having arrived at the start of the new year. It was mostly out of peace between their kingdoms- once, their fathers had been at war- now, the sons have taken over and such a war had not been theirs to fight. Cousins by blood, neither Jon nor Robb had wished to shed another drop of family blood. And truth be told, neither had their fragile, broken nations. And so it was peace that was brokered, easily at that, and both Robb, the King in the North, and his sister and heir, Sansa, had come to King's Landing as Jon's honored guests.

"I thought I might dance with the lady," Jon says, beckoning towards Sansa who at least has the grace to blush. Robb casts a glance towards her and then grins as he turns back to Jon. Nodding with approval, he bows again before he makes his way through the crowd, only stopping when he catches sight of the lovely Margaery Tyrell who shines in pale gold damask, a single red rose tucked into the high coils of her hair. Reaching for her hand, he brings it close to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Such a gesture sends shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful," he says as the music begins again, a slower tune that brings them closer together. They're both aware of the eyes that watch them, the King and the heir to the North, though they pay little mind of any of them watching. Her hand is small and warm in his, while her other hand dares to brush across the nape of his neck. That is what matters, that feeling her touch gives him. "That dress is most becoming."

She laughs, soft and twinkling, and once again those lips curve with a smile. "It is only because of this fine silk," she insists, though even she has been unable to do little else but admire the gown she's crafted for this night. Though quite unlike the styles of the North, she has retained some of her roots, for her red hair remains woven into braids, although it shimmers with a gem covered netting gifted to her by Margaery. That and the pendant she wears around her neck was stamped with her House sigil, worn once by her own father.

He twirls her out and then back in, closer than ever before, though she's uncertain as to how they could ever be closer. But then she snickers, recalling in fact, they could be much closer. As if Jon senses what she's thinking, it's his turn to chuckle, dipping his head down low, so close that his breath tickles her ear as he whispers what he's thought many times that evening. "I do wonder what it looks like upon the floor of my chamber, though." She blushes deep to the core of her hair, but she's breathless all the same. She likes it and he knows it. He loves that she likes it, truthfully.

Sansa Stark had come to King's Landing after a dark, somber period in her life. Once the spoiled, pampered princess of the North, she had been left alone in Winterfell with her youngest siblings, protected by the bitter cold and a small armed force. While her father had been in King's Landing, plotting against Jon's father, Rhaegar Targaryen, her mother had been with Robb on their way to join Ned in the South. What could not protect Sansa nor her siblings was the traitor Bolton House, that swept in upon hearing of Ned's death in battle and took Winterfell for themselves. Sansa was locked away in chambers and never again saw her siblings- Arya lost to the Northern wilderness, the boys certainly smothered in their chambers while they slept.

When Jon's father and Robert Baratheon was found dead after the last fight in what would now be called Robert's Rebellion- he and Robb met on the battlefield. It was Jon who spoke of peace and Robb who asked for nothing but to have help saving his sister from the unspeakable suffering she endured while held prisoner by Ramsay, the bastard born son of Roose Bolton. And save Sansa they had. Riding in at the head of an army, Robb and Jon swooped in and took Winterfell back in the name of House Stark.

Back then, she had worn her black gowns as armor, keeping to herself for the first few weeks of their arrival. Jon had assigned to her a few handmaidens and one in particular, Shae, certainly had found her place as Sansa's confidante. And then there was Margaery Tyrell, the beautiful and wealthy heiress to the Tyrell family. She had been the first to bring Sansa from her shell, the first person Jon had seen make her smile in the first six weeks of her stay. And then... One day... One day she had found him, all alone, in the quietest corner of the massive gardens. She had blushed, stammering an apology, turning to go before Jon could stop her. Two weeks later, they met again in similar fashion, though this time it had been Jon who happened upon her. They met here among the flowers nearly every day after that, hidden from prying eyes by rose bushes and fauna of the brightest green, side by side on the small stone bench.

That simple stone bench had been the place of their first kiss, a soft kiss that left him tingling long after she'd gone. Jon can't really remember when he'd begun to realize the depth of his feelings, but it was sometime between her falling in love with Ghost and Ghost with her, he really never could figure out which came first. But in truth, seeing her sink to the floor in his chambers to hug his neck, or to find the wolf asleep in her bed was all he'd needed to know the truth of how he felt. He loved her. He loved her beyond anything else in his entire life.

"The song is over..." It's her whispering and he jolts back to reality, realizing that indeed the song has ended and they still yet stand together. Springing apart, Jon offers her a most regal bow, his hand reaching for hers as he had done at the beginning. "Jon..." She calls him by name as the music strikes up another tune, this one quicker, though neither of them are thinking of dancing now.

"Meet me, in our usual spot," he murmurs over her knuckles before he drops her hand and disappears into the crowd. Sansa remains where she stands for several long moments more, her hand still yet warm where his lips had touched.

[ x x x ]

He hears her footsteps as she approaches.

There on the stone bench, he waits in silence for her, knowing without a doubt that she would come. She does not hesitate as she once might have, rather she sinks into her place at his side, silk skirts rustling with her movements. From above, the clouds shift, exposing her to the moon's pale light- though he cannot believe it, she's even far more beautiful with moonlight woven into her hair. He swallows, reaching out, hesitantly, to trace the length of her jaw with trembling fingers. "Jon..." Once again she calls him by his name and her hand reaches up, taking hold of his. This alone is enough to comfort him, to give him a sense of courage he's not even felt in battle before.

"Marry me," he says these words simply, without the hesitation from moment's before. She blinks, staring at him as if she's not heard him correctly. Before she can say a word, he's falling down to a knee before her, there on the stone bench, still yet clutching her hand. "Marry me, Sansa," he goes on, smiling up at her, those blue eyes wide in her ivory features. "It is the one thing in this life I have ever wanted-" to be a prince and then a king? It was not his first choice in life, but if he was going to do it... He wanted it to be with a woman he truly loved at his side. And despite the short time he's known her, he knows there can be no other. That there would never be another. This was not a king asking a princess, a noble, it was a man asking a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

She cannot believe him when he speaks and yet... His dark eyed stare is so poignant, his words so very heartfelt. And truth be told, her her skips a beat at the realization of what he's asked of her. To marry him... To be his wife... Was it not what she dreamed of, if only in the privacy of her own mind? There is a warmth spreading through her and she finds herself to be nodding, over and over again nodding as she smiles brighter than she's ever smiled in all of her life. And then finally... She says what he's been waiting for.

"Yes."

When he rises up, she rises along with him, her heart singing as his hands slide into place against her cheeks. He could have spent forever right there in those gardens with her, if only time would allow. But he knows soon they must return to the ball and then to a new life they would build for themselves.

A happy world, a perfect world.

[random-imagines-blog]

Empty Walls {Sirius Back x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2380 Summary: A lot of the order is pretty untrusting of any Slytherins joining their midst - but there is one person who accepts you. Warnings: Mentions of character death.

Molly Weasley shoved a plate of food in front of you, so harshly that little puddles of gravy spilt onto the table, making a small mess. You thanked her regardless of her hostility, and cleaned up the gravy with your own napkin, embroidered with your initials. She was a wonderfully sweet woman most of the time - but you just so happened to be a Malfoy. Despite your loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, many of its members still didn’t trust you yet, because of your surname. It was more about that than the fact that you had been in Slytherin, while everyone else around here seemed either to be a Gryffindor or even a Hufflepuff. You tied your blonde hair out of your face and started to eat self-consciously, knowing that there were eyes on you no matter what. Sirius Black’s to be specific. He always seemed to be watching.

The room filled with the sound of eating as everyone dug into Molly’s delicious food. You were the first done, vacating your seat quickly and washed the dish - by hand - in the sink. You had grown up completely spoiled, with the house elves doing all of the cooking and cleaning, so earning your place here had been difficult at first. You didn’t mean to be spoiled. You just couldn’t help how you were raised.

Grimmauld Place. It was dark and it was dingy, but there was one place in this house in particular that you were drawn to. The wall with the family portraits - your own included. All of the little faces of your family, and then the burned out one of Mr. Sirius Black. Your eyes went to your brother and you smirked to yourself. He was painted in that little hat. He always hated that picture, which made you love it even more. You then saw your parents, Lucius and Narcissa. They both looked a little snooty, which was how they tended to appear to the world. But they were never like that when it was just the family together. Your fingers graced your mother’s face. You missed her, a lot. She still sent you owls, and your father would always add his own little notes. They loved you, despite the fact that most of their friends saw you as a traitor. That your actions nearly put a bounty on their own heads, like the rest of the order.

But you were going to help take him down before he could try to collect.

“Do you really like staring at your own face that much?” A deep voice came from behind you. You didn’t turn around. It was Mr. Black himself. He always seemed to be following you around. He was probably the most mistrustful of the lot. You just ignored him, and put your fingers over your father. You missed him as well. His opinion was the one that you had been most scared of - but you were doing what he was too cowardly to do. You were making the right choice.

You didn’t even pay attention to your little portrait. You knew what you looked like. You didn’t give into the vanity that the rest of the Malfoys seemed to have. You preferred knowledge over looks.

“It’s not that bad of a picture. Mine was awful. They made me cut my hair for it, so I looked like some dapper gentleman,” Sirius said. He had come and stood right behind you. You didn’t realize how close he was until then. If you took even one step backwards, you would have bumped into him.

“So it’s a good thing that your place is burnt out then?” You asked.

“I like to think of it more as an empty space,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably paint over the whole damn thing one of these days. Most of these people, I don’t feel like I’m that related to anyway. Like you.”

“We’re  hardly related. It’s like ... many branches away,” You said with a shrug. He may be some sort of cousin but it never felt that way to you either. When you looked at him, you saw ... well, a handsome man, even with all of that hair and those tattoos. You had seen photos of him when he was younger and you had some pretty obscene thoughts one should not be having over family members. He’d been, to put it roughly, a hunk. “Why haven’t you painted over it by now?”

“The room needed some sort of decor,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d do with an empty wall.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you’d hang a very flattering portrait of yourself,” You mused, clicking your tongue. “Dorian Gray style.”

“What?” Sirius asked. You laughed then, remembering that someone like him probably hasn’t picked up a book since his time at Hogwarts, let alone one written by a muggle.

“Nothing,” You said, shaking your head. “So what can I help you with? Does Molly need help with something?”

“Why would Molly need help with anything?” Sirius asked, taking a seat in one of his favorite chairs in the bedroom.

“I don’t know - you all seem to think that housework is female only work-” You started but Sirius cut you off.

“Not at all,” He said, shaking his head, those unruly waves flying around him. “I actually wanted to talk to you myself. And it’s really not about housework.”

“Well, talk away,” You said, settling into a chair of your own, facing away from those painted walls.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while now. I knew your father back in school and-”

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the stories,” You interrupted, crossing your legs. “There’s no need to go into a lot of backstory. I know you don’t trust me and that’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Do you always go around making up all of these assumptions?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I don’t distrust you, I actually wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing an amazing job. Especially for someone so young.”

Your mouth went dry at the unexpected praise that he was bestowing on you. “Well, thanks. That actually means a lot to me. It’s been hard, since I had to give up everything but saving the world seems pretty worth it. Wanna tell Molly what you think, because that woman has had it out for me since day one.”

“She’ll come around. She’s just mistrustful of Slytherins, that’s all.”

You were quiet for a couple of minutes there, thinking about all of the times that you had tried to proven yourself to the Order. You had gone out on dangerous missions without hesitation. You had fought people who had once been dear family friends. You were trying to protect the world, which seemed bigger than just one family.

“Guess I just have to give it time - and hope that we have enough of it,” You sighed, realizing there wasn’t much in this situation that you could do. “You’re not so bad yourself, Black. Even if you come from a family of, well, us. Snakes and all.”

“Thanks,” He chuckled. “I’ll take that to heart.”

-

Since you had already graduated from Hogwarts, you spent a lot of time among the rest of the adults. Molly was finally warming up to you just a little, if only because she had no children to keep her busy now that they were all back at school. You were one of the youngest in the Order, having just left school the year before, and so she doted on you. Or, at the very least, she didn’t make a mess of your food anymore.

“Fancy taking me for a walk?” Sirius asked you one day, leash in hand. You laughed, knowing exactly what he had meant. It was the only way that he could leave this house. Being disguised as Snuffles, the big black dog. And the only way not to get Animal Control called on him was to have someone walk him around.

You nodded, also feeling the need to get out of the stifling nature of the house. Get away from the screams of the portrait and the gloominess that clung around every corer despite you and Molly’s attempt to cheer the place up a bit. Sirius turned into his dog form, and you put the leash and collar on him - which always felt weird, no matter how many times you did it. His tongue lolled out as he grew excited for the fresh air and it was enough to make you laugh.

These walks became more and more frequent - especially because sometimes, when you were in a more isolated part of town, Sirius would turn back into his human self and you would have a coffee and sit in a park, enjoying the early fall nature. You ended up having some really long conversations. About everything. You told him some stories about his godson, Harry, and his friends at school - they were rather infamous and it seemed like you knew a lot about them despite not being in their house. And your brother’s complaints, of course.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were falling for this much older man, despite the age gap and the fact that he had been in Azkaban for years, and that this was hardly the time for love, given the fact that there was a war that was growing in importance more and more each day.

-

“To the ones that we have lost,” Arthur Weasley said, raising his glass in toast over his head.

It was  not a happy occasion that you were celebrating here tonight, back at Grimmauld Place. “To the ones that we have lost,” you toasted back in return. And then you drank deeply from your flask - Firewhiskey having become a solace these days.

Sirius was taking things particularly hard - the war may be over, but the cost of that victory was entirely too high. He was tearing himself apart about it, but you couldn’t blame him. He lost his only other best friend. And the Weasleys had lost two sons - one to death, and one to the attack of a werewolf, though Bill was pulling through swimmingly.

You stood up slowly, which garnered the attention of the rest of the people around you. “I can’t be here,” You admitted, finding it too hard to be around loved ones, when they weren’t exactly the ones that you wanted.

You went down the hallway into the room with the family portrait on it, your wand in your hand as you closed the door, but you did not lock it. “What have you done to be remembered for?” You asked the portrait of yourself, and of your parents.

“I think this is a long time coming,” Sirius said, staggering into the room. “Patat Pingere.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, as the paint started to peel off of the walls, and then dissolve into nothing, leaving only the bare baseboards that they must have been before the family tree. You watched as you, your parents and the rest of them just seemed to disappear, like you never existed.

“You deserve to be remembered,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of all of that white. “So we’ll repaint you now, as you are. And... and Remus. And Tonks. And Fred... the others...”

You nodded, looking at the potential of it now. All of the noble house of Black had disappeared, and most of them were better off being remembered - entirely unlike everyone that you had just lost, and whose death was still pulling at your heart.

“And yours,” You said, looking over at Sirius. You were surprised to see that his head was down, and a sob racked through his entire body, and he was barely keeping himself upright.

You rushed to his side and took his weight upon your shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying him to his favorite chair and helped to lower him into it. He didn’t let you go, so you had no choice but to sit with him. You curled up in his lap like a kitten, and he held you while sobbing into the shoulder of your robes.

You were through with crying - you’ve made yourself dehydrated with it and nothing ever seemed to get better, but seeing Sirius like this was still draining nonetheless. “You’re not completely alone Sirius - you have me.”

That seemed to help somewhat, for his shoulders stopped shaking as much, but he did continue to hold onto you tightly, making sure that you could not leave, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay and make sure that he knew - that he knew that you would not leave him.

“I love you.”

You weren’t expecting that from him, especially not at this time, but you began to run your fingers through the dirty, straggly hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it. I can’t take anything more, I just-”

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. Even when he was in the middle of a fight, with spells going around him, narrowly missing him, he usually had some excitement showing on his face. But this was a defeated man, who seemed ready to break at the slightest negativity.

“I mean it, with every bit of me. I really, truly do,” You told him, detangling a few knots with your fingers, your wand having dropped on the floor when it seemed like he was falling. “I love you, Sirius Black.”

“Can we fix this - these empty walls?” Sirius’s head rose just a little.

You nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which had the same expression as a dog that had just been kicked. “Yes, I think we can. I know we can. Let’s start tomorrow.”

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART II - Everyone was so nice and supportive and I appreciate it so much!!! Warning, Eris has friends (soldier friends cuz I just think he’s close to his soldiers) and because I don’t like the idea of him being lonely. There’s a time skip from the last part, but we get baby Lucien. Thanks so much, Ruchi :)

im loving this sm and YES give eris friends. love you lots ash <3

Prince of Ashes. Part II.

masterlist.

“Stop that.” The words were no more than a low growl. 

Micah let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head back to look up at Eris from where he was sitting on the floor, back against the couch and cheek against Eris’s knee. He’d been leaning on Eris’s leg the whole night, tapping annoyingly on the top of Eris’s foot with pale, scar-flecked fingers. Enya, one of Eris’s hounds, was sitting by Micah, his other hand idly stroking her sleek fur.

“Asshole,” Micah mumbled, running a hand through his now messy, chestnut brown hair. With a groan and one final pat of Enya’s back, he pushed himself up off the floor and sat on the couch right next to Eris, their shoulders touching. Lagos was leaning against the arm of the couch, his legs tucked in close to his chest so as not to touch Eris. He’d been sitting there quietly the whole night, braiding and then rebraiding his long, dark hair.

Grass green eyes on Eris, Micah said, “Just because your little brother’s a walking faelight doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole.” Eris felt the sudden urge to hit Micah upside the head with the flimsy book in his hands, but he knew better than anyone that Micah wouldn’t be too bothered by it. Having known his friend for centuries, Eris was almost positive Micah would just laugh. Eris shut the book, it was useless anyway, and settled for jolting the leg Micah had seen fit to sidle up against.

With a bare foot, Lagos kicked Eris on his thigh. “I’m telling you, this is Day Court magic. You can read a million more ancient books from your little library, and I’d still be right.” 

Eris could have hit him with his book as well. “When I find the fucking bastard, I’ll kill him.” 

“You’d kill your younger brother’s father?” Micah was always trying to convince Eris, and perhaps himself, that Eris wasn’t some horrible monster. Sometimes, Eris grew tired of it.

“I’d kill my own,” Eris said with a shrug, “You really believe I’d be uneasy about killing someone else’s?” 

“I don’t think anyone here believes that,” Lagos mumbled. Eris glared at him, no real hate in the look, but one that might convey the feeling that he regretted having befriended Lagos in the first place. Lagos simply flashed him a dimpled grin, before he turned to look at Lucien. Widge had the little runt sitting on his knee, he looked entirely relaxed.

Lucien was smiling, his red hair a mess, his tiny fists reaching out to grab the harmless little fox that Eris had made out of his flames to bounce around them. Eris had never disliked his mother more as Lucien beamed like some sort of pixie in the dimly lit sitting room of his cottage. Beron would kill them all if he saw this, Eris knew, and had practically stolen Lucien from The Forest House before anyone took notice of his new talent.

Eris scowled as he struggled to think what might have set off the strange magic. Eris had been sitting in front of the fireplace, Lucien caged between his long legs as he crawled in the small space. Eris had, in a moment of weakness, let Lucien curl his chubby fingers around one of his own. Lucien had let out a little shriek, lifting Eris’s finger like some sort of trophy, and much to Eris’s horror, had started to glow. Not even a year old, and Lucien was already causing trouble for Eris.

Widge looked at Eris then, his copper brows raised and his dark eyes wide, “Do you glow like this, too?” 

Eris had to stop himself from snapping an irritated “no.” Widge was always a little stuck in his thoughts and almost never paid attention to what was going on around him. Eris shook his head and Widge simply nodded, eyes going back to Lucien. 

Lucien laughed, red curls bouncing as Eris willed the fox closer to his youngest brother. If it was possible, Lucien became even brighter.

Eris snarled, a sound that came deep from his chest, as he tried to remain calm. The little fox instantly disappeared, the book in his hands burst into flames, the fireplace flared on the other side of the room. So much for keeping calm, Eris thought, as Lagos moved his foot so that it was no longer on him. Beron had finally stopped thinking that Lucien was another male’s son. Eris was just starting to feel like he could let down his guard, that he no longer had to hover over his youngest brother and ensure Beron didn’t get his hands on the tiny thing. Eris didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that there were flames dancing in his eyes, he breathed in through his nose. Eris didn’t want to look in a mirror anyway, he found he looked most like his father in anger.

The gentle hand that squeezed his arm had Eris clenching his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, his lips pressed together as he tried not to sneer. He wanted to tell Micah to move his hand. Almost as if he’d sensed it, Micah’s fingers tightened only briefly before he took his hand off of Eris. 

“Is it just me, or does the runt smell like a fucking heir?” 

Eris might have been losing his mind.

“Your nose has been broken one too many times,” Lagos muttered. That was probably true. 

Eris had never been more glad to have met Micah as he spoke with a confidence that could reassure Eris in the worst of his moods. “We’ll figure this out.” 

While Eris may not always share his carefully crafted plans with his friends, he had no doubt that they’d have his back.

Eris faced Micah, frowning. He was beautiful, the traditional Autumn Court tattoos shining gold against the pale skin of his throat, bringing out the lighter strands of the shoulder-length brown hair that framed his sculpted face. Eris hadn’t loved Micah as anything other than a friend for centuries, but he was always struck by how lovely Micah was. Not only that, but Micah was steady; One of the only dependable and constant things in Eris’s long life.

Micah flashed him a warm smile, clear green eyes on Eris, his head tilting just a bit, “So try not to worry over it. I hear that if pretty males frown and furrow their brows, they get wrinkles.” Eris couldn’t help but scrunch his nose, he couldn’t care less about wrinkles. Lagos spoke again, Eris could hear the smile in his voice, “And if you get all wrinkled, that bewitching female you’ve been trying to bed will lose whatever interest she has in you.”

“What female?” Widge questioned. 

“The one Eris can’t stop talking about,” Lagos replied. Eris didn’t think he talked about her that much. The face Widge made suggested that he had absolutely no idea who they were talking about. Eris felt slightly validated, but coming from Widge, that confusion meant absolutely nothing. Lagos knew that as well. “Come now, Widge, he’s been talking about her for months,” he added, his grin widening.

“Bit offended, mind you, he never talked about me like that,” Micah grumbled, his shoulder knocking into Eris’s. 

Eris scowled when Lagos leaned over him to mouth “he did” at Micah. Eris shoved Lagos with a hand, his friend yelping as he tried not to fall off the couch. Eris could have sworn on the cauldron that he hadn’t talked about him too much either. 

Widge just furrowed his brows, “The last person I remember Eris talking about was that human general.”

“Cauldron, he’s talking about your obsession with Jurian over 200 years ago.” Lagos sounded very pleased by this. 

Eris could feel his ears heating. Not one of his finer moments, and not like he’d call it an obsession, but Lagos liked calling it that. “I got over him quickly,” he defended. 

“Yes,” Micah smiled, “Only to throw yourself at a river nymph.” 

Eris rolled his eyes, still relatively frustrated, but feeling much better than he had before. “I’m out of ideas,” he announced.

“How in the hells can you be out of ideas, we’ve given you so many,” Lagos said, exasperated. 

“None of which were even a little helpful,” Eris raised his brows, looking at Lagos. 

Lagos shrugged. He’d had the most useless one, suggesting that Eris move to Vallahan with Lucien. “Two birds, one stone,” he’d stated. “You leave the throne to Cato like you’ve always wanted, and you keep your vow.” Much easier said than done, but as the night wore on, Eris was finding it the most appealing option.

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, “I should just kill him.” 

Micah stiffened at Eris’s side, Lagos almost snapped his neck to turn and look at Eris with wide eyes. 

Widge tucked Lucien into his chest, almost as though to shield him from the heir of the Autumn Court. “You wouldn’t,” he said disbelievingly, “Eris, you wouldn’t.” 

“Not the child,” Eris snapped, he crossed his arms, feeling very offended that his only friends thought him capable of killing his own little brother.

It was no secret that Eris wasn’t above murder, wasn’t above killing Beron, but killing one of his brothers seemed to be a line he wouldn’t cross. “I was talking about our well-loved High Lord.” 

“Yes, because you were so successful the last time you tried,” Lagos patted Eris on the knee. 

Micah eased back, “If you’d been talking about the child, I would have been very angry with you.” 

“Whatever would I have done,” Eris said under his breath.

Micah and Eris had argued quite a bit when they’d first met. It was definitely Eris’s fault for the most part, but Micah was headstrong and stubborn. Micah had spent 50 years climbing the ranks of the military only for Eris to waltz into the role of commander. He’d been extremely irritated at having to deal with a spoiled prince in his war camp and Eris had taken great joy out of bothering the experienced general. 

Micah smiled, “Probably sit and brood.”

“You could always just tell the High Lord he’s been cursed by a witch,” Widge offered. He was a bit behind on the conversation, but at least he was thinking about something other than his formulas. 

“Smartest male in all our armies and he comes up with that,” Micah muttered. 

Eris frowned. It wasn’t like anyone else had come up with something better. Perhaps he should just tell his mother, let her deal with it.

Lagos suddenly launched off the couch, nearly tripping on the edge of the carpet as he fell to his knees in front of Widge. “You brilliant, brilliant oaf,” both hands cupping Widge’s freckled cheeks as he shook him slightly. 

“Care to share, Lagos,” Micah asked as Lagos placed an exaggerated kiss on Widge’s forehead. Widge’s eyes were wide, both his eyebrows raised, as he moved Lucien away from Lagos. Eris was glad to see that everyone else looked just as confused as he felt.

“We can put a spell on him.” - The whole room seemed to freeze, even Lucien had stopped blathering. 

“You’re not going to curse my brother,” Eris thought that would have been rather obvious. 

Lagos grinned, “No, definitely not. I don’t want your ire directed at me, ever.”

Eris scowled, reaching for Lucien. “Then I’d advise you—” Eris took Lucien into his arms, the fireplace flaring. He pointedly glared at Lagos, “Not to curse the child I’m sworn to protect.”

Lagos only smiled, wiggling his fingers at Eris as a warm glow radiated from his brown skin. “My mother is from the Day Court, dumb ass.” Eris was still glaring at him, not like he’d forgotten. “She specialized in protection spells at one of the academies,” he dipped his chin, “Not curses.” 

It couldn’t hurt to casually ask Lady Morai some questions about the whole thing. Eris frowned as he looked at Lucien, speaking to Lagos as he gazed fixedly at Lucien’s glowing little nose.

“And this is normal?” Eris tried to keep the concern from his voice. 

“He is a bit young,” Lagos didn’t look too worried about it, “I started doing that at about half a decade.” He smiled, “Scared the shit out of my father.” 

Eris looked at Lagos again, “Can you honestly fix it, then?” 

“Not sure it’s something that needs to be fixed,” Widge countered. 

Before Eris could bark an irritated “no one asked you,” Lagos raised his hands, taking a step closer to Eris.

“We take him to my mother, she can suppress his magic, she did the same with mine.” Of course she had, Eris thought, knowing very well that being different in the Autumn Court was oftentimes a death sentence. “Just until he grows old enough to break the spell, no fixing is needed and nothing is permanent.” It sounded so very simple. Eris had always been wary of things that seemed too easy.

Eris bit his lip, thinking on this new proposal. He’d met Lady Morai, had been to her home on more than one occasion, but he didn’t necessarily want to trust the female with something like this despite the liking he’d taken to her. Telling his friends was one thing, telling anyone else … 

“But no harm will come to the child, correct?” Micah sounded like the general he was in that moment. Eris was glad Micah had asked the question he’d been thinking. 

“Precisely.”

“And your mother won’t tell anyone?” Eris didn’t want to have to kill the parent of one of his only friends. He hated himself for even thinking it. 

“She thinks you’re the Autumn Court’s fucking saviour, the Mother only knows why.” Lagos raised his brows, “She’d take this to the grave, I swear it.”

No one spoke as Eris considered this option - it was the best one he had. “And you’re sure she can do this -”

“Sure enough,” Lagos replied. 

Eris snarled. 

“She knows what she’s doing,” he reassured.

Eris hoped that was true. 

Lagos held out his hand, golden tattoos on each finger of spell-cleaving characters, “I’ll winnow us.”

“And we’ll be here when you return,” Micah glanced at Widge. “Maybe we’ll feed the hounds.”

Lagos flashed Eris a smile, hand still outstretched, “Come on, you can trust me.”

Eris did. Lagos had been the first person Eris had ever truly befriended, having arrived at the war camps in the same year Eris had been sent there. They’d grown as close as brothers.

With one last look at Lucien in his arms, Eris tentatively reached out to Lagos, holding his hand. Lagos closed his eyes as the magic in the room swelled, warm and gentle and nothing like the crackling flames of the Autumn Court. Eris turned away from the bright light when he could no longer look at it, and for the first time in over two centuries, Eris prayed to the Mother.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία  (Chapter 11)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary:  This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character  is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a  devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hi, hope you like this! I don’t really have much to say here lol

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me

“Tell me about your Gods.” Ivar orders one night, moving with a slight wince of pain to settle better in his seat.

This is one of the first times he has tried to talk to you as if you are anything other than the foreign witch he has chained to his side in more ways than one, and you should take advantage of that, you know you should.

To your best interests, you should be lying to him, you should have been lying since the day you crossed Kattegat’s walls. You should have lied, from the very beginning.

You should have lied, you should have used lust, anger, curiosity to your favor. You should have taken advantage of the cautious hope in his eyes, of the hidden fear he has of being left alone.

A better woman might have. A better Anassa, a better Greek. A better witch.

But not you.

You narrow your eyes, and when you consider Ivar’s spoiled request you cannot keep the words from leaving your lips even if you tried.

“I am not a pet, eager to entertain my captor.” You point out.

“I am not your captor, because you are not a prisoner.” He argues without hesitation, certain in his madness.

“Am I free to leave this room then?” You taunt, surprising yourself.

You could swear somewhere, maybe even from her Folkvangr, Sieghild is yelling at you to shut your mouth and count your losses. You can almost hear the curses and threats on her part.

King Ivar stares at you in cold anger for a moment, and you see the telltale move of him gritting his teeth in annoyance before he motions for the chair, “If you entertain me, I will consider it.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” You push. Sieghild was right, you would have been killed so many years ago if you had been left alone without her. Gods above, you need to learn to shut up. If only the part of your mind that realizes you shouldn’t open your mouth were to speak before your own mouth does, that would be delightful. With your chin in your hand, you ask, “What do you wish to know?”

He asks about Hades, of course he does. And you tell him about the God’s might, how he came to rule over the Underworld, his gift with the dead and with fortune.

When he asks, you tell him about his dealings with mortals, and how he rarely leaves his Kingdom, but the Viking is not content with your answers, it seems.

“You are hiding something from me.” He points out, seriously and without hesitation. You frown, startled, but in your voice there’s the hint of a smile when you answer,

“What makes you think so?”

“You pick and choose at the tales of your Gods you tell, Priestess, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“There’s many tales, many stories, about the Gods. Explaining them to an outsider is difficult.” You defend yourself even if you taste the half-truth in your tongue. Facing the stories of old, facing the legends told to you by your mother and father, it brings out a strange nostalgia in you, a strange dread that makes you think you have lost the war you started in Eleusis long before you called your fellow Greeks to arms.

“You are an outsider to me.” He points out, eyebrows lifted and gaze challenging. Whether that’s a rebuttal to your point by returning the same title, or a remark that he has chosen to ignore the obvious differences between the two of you, you don’t truly know.

“Tell me some tales of yours, then.” You offer, betraying a small smile.

Let’s be something other than outsiders.

You know how foolish you are being, walking into the trap even with your eyes wide open, but there’s a beat in your heart that speaks of madness, of thrill, of something when you face the Viking.

But Ivar shakes his head, startling you and making your stomach drop for a moment. The realization you were trusting enough to long for closeness to the monster that captured and imprisoned you makes you ashamed.

He motions to you before pressing his fingers to his mouth, “I want to speak your language first.”

You raise your eyebrows, “It takes years to master Greek, my King.”

“I’m a fast learner, and you have nowhere else to go.”

“Fine.” You sigh, getting comfortable in your chair. Thinking for a moment on what you could teach him first, you grab onto the pendant hanging from your neck and show him the inscription.

He doesn’t consider the letters though, rough fingers reaching up and almost touching your own as he turns the circular piece back around, looking at the engraving of the twelve Olympians and the Gods of the Underworld.

“What is this?”

His face is so close to yours that you can -and a part of you wants to- lose yourself in the specks of blue of his eyes. It unsettles you, more because you don’t want to move away when you know you should.

And it is the honesty, the open curiosity that shine in his blue eyes that disarms you, that makes you lose the tight hold you have on control. Your breath stutters its way past your parted lips, and you pray he doesn’t notice, eyes searching his as you beg your tongue to give an answer.

“An old gift, it represents the Gods.” You reply, not wanting to delve into it for fear of having nostalgia clog at your throat.

“From whom?”

Of course he would ask. You take a deep breath, betraying a small, sad smile on your lips.

“My father gifted this to my mother the day they were to be married,” You explain softly, and realize after a heartbeat that he knows of your mother’s story, because you told him. When you were just a Priestess and he was just a Viking, you told him of your mother’s plight, of her resistance and of her defeat. It gives you a certain calm, to know he knows what it means to you. Turning the pendant back around, you insist on the inscription, tracing over a word well-known for both your Gods and his, “Moirai, Fates.”

“Moirai.” Ivar tests it in his tongue, harsh and rough on his untrained lips. Still, the moment of curiosity, of willingness to learn, on his part makes your mouth start to curve into a small smile.

You furrow it before it has the chance to give away your naïve heart.

The moon has almost made her journey all across the skies when you are dismissed by the King who, true to his word, seems to be quick to pick up the easier parts of your tongue.

____

Strange, how even the oddest and most bizarre of scenarios become routines after enough time has passed.

As agreed when the King concluded to not treat you as a prisoner -even if he still does, arguing semantics with a man that almost routinely is covered in blood is not high in your list of priorities- you are called forth to sit by the King’s side each morning and each night.

It is a set of shackles to keep you controlled by the Viking, but you find yourself enjoying his company.

Even if every day that you find yourself laughing alongside the youngest son of Ragnar, or exchanging tales or memories or hopes with him, you find a piece of you burning at the shame of having betrayed the people you promised so much for so long; your foolish heart still finds itself weaving a place in it for Ivar. Just Ivar. Not the King, not the Viking berserker, not your captor, but the man who through scarce glimpses you get to know. Ivar, who the more you know the more you deem a man you could trust rather than the King you thought you’d grow to resent.

As before, he manages to make you despise him as easily as he makes you admire him, hate his forced presence in your day and find yourself missing his voice or his expressive eyes when he’s not there.

You are served a small platter of finger food by one of the thralls, a petite girl of long brown hair, and you pick at what looks like cow liver and heart as you discreetly look over the hall in search of the King.

You don’t have to look for him long, for you hear the people greeting him before you even see him. After a breath, you hear the by now familiar sound of his crutch finding the wooden floor behind you, and he greets you,

“Hiereiai.”

The smile on your lips is foolish but free, and you surprise yourself when don’t try to school it as you turn around on your seat to face him. Noting he used the plural form of your title, you shake your head.

“Hiereia,” You correct, “There’s only one of me.”

His eyebrows rise and mouth curves into a side smile, expression dripping mirth as he mumbles,

“Thank the Gods. I don’t know what I would do more than one of you.”

You scoff at him as he takes his seat, rolling your eyes.

“As if you could be so lucky,” You dismiss, earning a breath that once could have been a laugh. As it is your new and strange routine, you look over the table and find a dish that looks unfamiliar. Pointing to it, you ask, “This one?”

“Osyrat kornbröd.”

You grab a small piece of the odd-looking bread, tasting it before you repeat the words back to him. He nods in approval, but you have a feeling it is because a week ago, when he mocked your accent when speaking his tongue, you switched to Greek for the rest of the day and frustrated him to no end.

Routine, familiarity like this, you know it should frighten you. You know you should fight, you know you should feel the pressing and suffocating pressure of unwanted binds, but…maybe it was fate after all. Maybe it is as Galla said: the woman that would have been content as an Anassa, as a meek wife, that would be Greek and nothing else; she died when they burned you before that temple, and something else, something wilder, hungrier, was left behind.

Maybe Ivar is right, and it was fate that you ended up here.

You choose not to think of it for now, you choose to ignore the should be’s and just…be. So, a new normal settles in your life.

Sometimes, you dine in the great hall, laughing discreetly at the stories shared by the warriors, or talking with the younger Prince who seems to be the person who wants you dead the least, or -more commonly- seething silently in your seat as you wonder if you could get away with regicide as King Ivar dangles your powerlessness, his hold over you, his control, like who taunts a cat with a  piece of string.

Other times, you meet in his quarters, imposing and cold as they are which you always find a way -silent or not- to complain about, or yours, which always brings the question by Ivar as to why you keep insisting on keeping a growing number of plants indoors.

You have to admit, even if your pride refuses to, that you prefer the nights and mornings you sit alone with the King over the ruckus of the main hall. Maybe you are selfish and don’t want to share his attention, maybe your foolish and naïve heart is intrigued by the stories he tells you, maybe.

And almost every night he continues to ask questions about your Gods and the stories you remember about heroes and legends. You know he sees them only as tales, and your situation as you sit beside King Ivar, dining and exchanging words as the night progresses makes you remember the tale of that woman you heard while in Persia, the one that wove tales for years on end to keep a tyrannical King from killing her.

Still, you relay the same words that have been spoken to you once, the naïve child waiting for her mother at Eleusis’ temple and asking all the questions that the world around her prompted.

There was a time when you believed the words leaving now your lips would be what your purpose was. Tend to the gardens of the temple, explain young girls the teachings of Persephone and Demeter, relay the ritual proceedings to ask for Hades’ blessing, bask in the music and the joy of Eleusis’ mysteries.

But that was before the blood, before the rust and the clashing of swords. That was before the Emperor’s whim dictated your Gods were no more, dictated your kingdom was his to play with. That was before you realized more than love and happiness, you wanted freedom and war.

You wouldn’t have ever thought you could stop an army from advancing from just standing still on the road. But it seems a heathen woman frightens these Christians more than anything.

“You are of noble blood, Constantinople welcomes your family name with open arms!” The Patriarch insists, “Come to the light of God and we will be merciful!”

“I have no interest in your mercy,” You bite out, eyes on the old man. “I want my freedom.”

“Your soul is prisoner, my child. Abandon these pagan ways an-…”

You interrupt him with a laugh, shaking your head, “‘These pagan ways’ built the empire you now live comfortably on. The Gods h-…”

The priest’s strike sends you stumbling to the ground, your cheek bleeding from his gold ring. Sharp pain spreads over the side of your face, and when you turn the old man you see the hand he backhanded you with curl into a fist.

“Do not speak of your false Gods to me, pagan.”

And even now, relaying the tales of your people to a King that knows nothing of your Gods, a weight in your chest seems to lighten, as if the stories gathered by your memory in all these years have been begging for air all this time.

Demeter’s suffering demands to be told again so that the world does not forget a mother’s love, Persephone’s resilience remains a safe haven in the storm of war and death, Hades’ courage and determination a testament to the ruthlessness of what a King ought to be.

And you allow yourself a small smile as you dine surrounded by foreign words and runes and customs. Sieghild was right all those years ago, when she found a crying child and made her a daughter: The Gods remain with you.

____

Before you know it the weeks Hvitserk promised it would take for their brother to arrive at the city has passed, and dragon-headed ships reach the docks.

After Prince Ubbe is welcomed with a feast in the main hall, while he is greeted with warm embraces, loud laughs and smiling faces; while Ivar seems to dwell for a few instants too long on the way his older brother is easily embraced by the people of Kattegat; he calls for his brothers to meet him in private.

You are asked to be there, and with a dead weight on your stomach you realize what this meeting is for.

And as you wait for someone to arrive, long after the warriors that escort you have left the room, you realize with deep shame how unsafe you feel without the vitriolic and unpredictable presence of the King.

“I thought I saw a familiar face in the crowd tonight,” The oldest Prince states as a greeting as pale eyes focus on you. You do not know why he chooses to speak to you in the tongue of the Saxons, maybe he thinks you don’t speak his tongue? “You are Greek. Far from home, aren’t you?”

“Yet I’m here.” You reply quietly, uncomfortable.

He sits across from you, grabbing a goblet and drinking mead, but without taking his piercing eyes off of you.

“My brother doesn’t share,” He states in a low voice, “So why are you here?”

You frown, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re not here for me to fuck, or kill,” He explains, elbows resting heavily on the table before you. “I saw you with Ivar tonight. Why?”

There’s a flash of anger, of ire, of protectiveness in his gaze; and you feel small and alone in the room with him. Your lips part, the familiar feeling of fear settling on your very bones.

“I-I…He wanted me there.”

“I know,” He insists, and when he speaks again his voice is a command, a threat, “Why?”

And the Gods might summon you home to the Underworld the day you let a man succeed at making you fear him. Your blood boils under your skin and you straighten yourself in your seat, finding the Prince’s gaze and narrowing your own eyes.

Whatever it is your lips try to say is quickly interrupted by the now familiar sound of a crutch finding methodically the wooden floor. Ivar and Hvitserk walk into the room discussing something between them, but the former, as if sensing your eyes on him, finds your gaze.

Strange, the new familiarity that has grown in this time spent at his side, that not only can he notice the change in you from your face and posture alone, but that in the slight narrow of his eyes you clearly see the question his voice doesn’t ask.

You offer a slight shake of your head, replying you are alright. He is still guarded and considers his brother in silence as he takes the seat next to you.

After a moment, he turns to you, a small smile on his lips. It feels true, it feels like your own lips want to return one in kind.

The thralls approach with food to set on the table, with all sorts of dishes that after weeks you are growing accustomed to, and small conversations start between the three brothers, leaving you to enjoy the strange peace.

You watch in silence as the oldest of the brothers uses a leg of lamb in his hand to motion as he talks,

“I’ve heard of ships from all over arrive at the docks,” He boasts, and smiles at Hvitserk, “Handling commerce suits you, brother.”

The other man nods, solemn, “I’ve been trying to secure some shipments to Dublin. It will be protected, I promise you.”

But it seems Prince Ubbe doesn’t want to hear about that, judging by the way is expression hardens, his eyes dim to a cold distrust. When they find you across the table, you realize it wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear about his brother’s plans, but rather didn’t want you to hear them.

“Should you talk about this in front of her?”

The question is directed at the King, and you turn rapt attention to him, a knot in the base of your stomach.

He shrugs, bringing a cup to his lips and drinking before answering.

“I don’t see why not, since she is to be Queen of Kattegat.”

Your lips part, a voice in your head screaming that’s not how you bring up an announcement like that, but you stay silent.

“What?” The older prince asks, voice low and raspy, eyes rapt on his brother.

“We are to be married soon,” He explains simply, turning to you and offering you a smirk, “Isn’t that right?”

You take a deep breath through your nose and face the dumbfounded princes.

“Yes,” The words catch in your throat, like a handful of coarse sand keeps them from reaching your tongue. You swallow and state, “I will be-…yes, we are.”

Prince Hvitserk looks between the two of you with a slowly growing smile on his face, but it is not as filled with poison as you thought it would be. It would make a less cautious woman think it is approval what shines in his brown eyes.

“Well…congratulations, brother.”

Ivar accepts the words with a slightly raised cup, but says nothing. You turn your gaze to the older prince. The simmering rage, the contained anger, they startle you and unsettle you way more than bare fury and vitriol ever could.

“Brother, you are not thinking straight,” Ubbe starts, hand gesturing to you. “Does she even know of the Gods? Does she even speak our tongue? You can’t just pick a Christian woman to marry and make a Queen, Ivar!”

“Call me what you will, my Prince, but never a Christian.” You hiss with narrowed eyes, drawing the fury of a man chosen by Father Zeus to you. Still, you hold his gaze.

Ivar chuckles softly, and you turn to him. As expected, he is already looking at you, sharing something in that moment when your eyes meet before he turns to his brother, his smile turning sardonic.

“A woman after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips do start forming a small smile without your consent.

Only the younger Prince, Hvitserk, huffs a small laugh as he acquiesces with a small shrug. Ubbe keeps hard eyes on the youngest son of Ragnar.

“You’ll be marrying your enemy.”

“She’s not an enemy.” Ivar insists easily, leaning back on his seat. Still, being questioned about his decision is not something he is taking kindly to, judging by the tight set of his shoulders and the hard glare he directs to Prince Ubbe.

“Ivar…”

“I did not summon you here to ask for your blessing, Ubbe,” He interrupts, hand motioning to you, “She is to be Queen of Kattegat.”

The other man drinks from his cup in what you assume to be an attempt to quell his anger. After a breath, he quips, “The Gods may not be pleased knowing the woman you take as a wife worships false Gods.”

“The Gods may not be pleased with you offering peace in exchange for nothing,” Ivar replies, elbows resting on the table, and though both brothers are confused at what he means, you know exactly what he is talking about, “Before questioning my choices, brother, why don’t you make sure Stithulf has the lands you accepted as payment for surrender?”

Your eyes are wide as you take in the King’s profile, the surprise written all over your face. He speaks certainly, confidently, even though it is only your word he has as proof of Stithulf not being able to pay forth what he promised the Varangians.

He trusted you.

It makes something within you soften, makes your chest feel a strange warmth. But you push those feelings down and focus on the conversation, hoping the men confuse your surprise for something other than having had Ivar listen and heed your word.

As they discuss the possible truth behind Ivar’s taunt, a thrall refills your cup of mead, and it is the concealed fear in her eyes, the meek posture, the murmured words of respect, what makes you realize what the world is like now.

They treat you like…like Ivar’s consort. Like a…

You drink deeply from your cup, shaking off those words, those…titles.

But that’s what you’ll be, isn’t it? He has already told his brothers, and if there’s something you know about this man past his relentlessness, his ruthlessness, is how much he cares about how others see him, what others see him as. If he is willing to let his blood know of this, nothing short of the Gods themselves will make him change his mind.

Your fate is sealed.

It is hard to hear anything past the ringing in your ears, and for the rest of the night you go through the motions, replying when spoken to, wondering if death truly is worse than chains.

The Princes are dismissed, and you feel burning blue eyes set on you. You turn to face him silently, and he lets his eyes trace over your features before speaking,

“What’s with you, hm?”

You don’t offer an answer, instead asking, “When will you tell your people? About…about the marriage.”

“Why?”

“Your people may not take kindly to a foreign witch ruling over them.” You say quietly, tremulously. Ivar only shrugs.

“They have a cripple sitting on the throne, they won’t be too outraged.”

The same dry humor as well, lucky for you, they are probably all dead now, the same small and proud smile when he makes a quiet laugh leave your lips, the same stupid feeling in your heart as if you were still in Aneridge, just a Priestess and just a Viking.

You roll your eyes with reluctant fondness, a strange warmth spreading over your heart and making for a moment the weight of chains not as heavy. Still, you stand up,

“I think I will retire for the night, if…if it’s alright.”

You hate that you hesitate, you hate that you feel like having to ask for permission. Still, you say nothing else, waiting for his response.

He gestures with his hand, signaling a dismissal and a goodnight.

You ask the tall and white-haired man with the injured eye to take you to the apothecary instead of to your rooms, longing for familiarity. As you slip silently into the sleeping home, you find a lone lit candle by a window, and Freydis smiling and motioning for you to get closer.

____

So, seems the odds of her escaping the marriage are slimmer and slimmer, eh? Anyways, would love to hear what you think, and it means a lot that you read and like this story, truly. So, thank you, so so so much :)

Also, there’s a Freydis PoV thing I’ve had on my drafts for a while, and I’ll be posting it this Tuesday as the week’s extra spinoff chapter, so hopefully I’ll see you there ;)

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Princess Part 7

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Link to Part 6

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M 

______

The next morning you dreaded facing Walburga and Orion. The knowledge that both of you soon to be in-laws heard you screaming their son’s name as he ravaged you was enough to make your face flush. Regulus found the whole thing hilarious.

“Calm down, love. What is mum going to do? Banish us to our rooms. I would be just fine with that.”

You put a hand over your face as the two of you stepped into the dining room. Walburga sat with a steaming cup of tea in front of her while Orion was looking over some papers for work. Orion didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered about what happened the prior night. He gave Regulus and yourself his typical good morning before going back to his work. Walburga on the other hand was eyeing the two of you like a hawk.

“I think we need to discuss what happened last night.”

She said sharply before stirring her tea. Regulus fought the urge to laugh. If he wanted to get away from his mother without being harmed laughing was a horrible way to start. He swallowed back his laughter before looking at his mother “innocently.” Regulus, after all, knew how to charm Walburga better than anyone. It was how he got 95% of the things that he wanted anyway so why wouldn’t it work today?

“Mum, I apologize. We didn’t realize that we were being that loud.”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry too. This is embarrassing for all of us.”

Orion didn’t look up or make a noise, which seemed to annoy Walburga further.

“As I have said before I am aware that the two of you have sex. That does not mean that neither of us wants to see or hear about it. That is supposed to be done privately, not loud enough for one's parents to overhear everything. We do not want to hear this again or I shall have to separate the two of you until you're married.”

Walburga was pleased when Regulus’ mouth dropped.

“Mother, we have been sleeping together for years. What do you honestly expect was going to happen with that arrangement?”

Walburga picked up a teacup saucer and tossed it at her youngest son.

“I suggest if you want to keep sleeping with Y/n to watch how you speak to me in this house.”

You didn’t dare to sneak a look at your fiance even though Regulus was squeezing your hands painfully hard. Walburga took a few moments before speaking again.

“If either of you step a toe out of line for the next few months...both of you will regret it.”

Orion finally looked up.

“Enough sex talk, Walburga. I am trying to drink my tea. The two get it. Right?”

Both Regulus and yourself muttered “yes sir” at the same time. Orion nodded and went back to his paper.

“There you go. Now leave them alone.”

Over the next few months, both Regulus and yourself were true to your promise to Walburga. Whether it be the fact that school was ending, not wanting to risk being separated, or something else neither of you was misbehaving in the slightest.

The last half of the year came and went faster than any in your memory. You barely had time to breathe in-between graduation and moving into the cute little town-home that Walburga had reserved.

“We don’t have to tiptoe around mum anymore.”

Regulus said with a smile as he sat the last box down. You didn’t fight the moment that he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“No, we don’t. We just have to worry about her dropping by at random moments when she realizes that she has nothing better to do now that we have moved out.”

You replied. Regulus sighed. You were right on that one. He had the bad feeling that Walburga would turn up at the beginning of every romantic the two of you would share for the foreseeable future. Regulus had been so thrilled about getting out on his own that he hadn’t even considered how his mother was going to react to having a “empty nest.”

“Damn it, so much for walking around the place naked. You know that woman will not give us a courtesy knock either. As soon as the damn wedding is over then we can give her some ground rules.”

You stood on your tiptoes and gently kissed Regulus’ chin.

“Everything will be fine. You should be patient with your mother. She’s going to be lonely.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Then she needs to talk to my father or Kreacher. There are plenty of others in that house that she can drive crazy. We have done everything that she wanted. For months we practically haven’t touched each other in that house. Not to mention we behaved civilly at graduation and the parties...we upheld our end of the bargain. Now she needs to go join a ladies' day club or or something club and stop haunting us.”

You understood Regulus’ annoyance with his mother. It had been difficult to act as though Regulus and yourself were good little children anytime that Walburga was near. She had a strange talent of coming into a room anytime that Regulus had his lips on yours. Now you wanted to be able to kiss your soon to be husband anytime that you wished.

“Everything will be fine, love.”

You said with a smile as Regulus instantly grabbed his left arm. The expression on his face told you everything that you needed to know. He was being summoned (yet again). For the past few weeks between Voldemort and Walburga, you had been lucky to have five minutes alone with Regulus.

“I’ll be home soon.”

You nodded, knowing there was no use in arguing or begging Regulus to stay home. If Voldemort called, Regulus went running. You had to fight back the feeling of annoyance that was building in your stomach.

“Are you mad?”

Regulus asked as he pulled on his coat. You put your drink down.

“Between him and your mother, I am not getting much time with you.”

You weren’t surprised when Regulus gave you a displeased scowl. If you so much as said something bad about the dark lord Regulus was giving you hell.

“You know what I signed up for. I am not giving up a duty that I wanted to please you, Y/n. You, like my mother, need to find ways to fill your time without me being with you.”

Regulus knew that his response was cold but he was getting frustrated. In the beginning, you were proud of him for wanting to be a death eater. Now, you were suddenly becoming dismissive to the whole thing and it was getting on Regulus’ nerves. Between worrying about his mother’s overbearing nature and what Voldemort had him doing he didn’t have time for a nagging wife.

You didn’t say anything before turning and going into the kitchen. As much as you wanted to give Regulus some equally cold comment back, you knew that it would be for nothing. When Regulus was in death eater mode, he would listen to nothing that you had to say. If you did say something as cold and vindictive back, you would just get fussed at even more and you were in no mood for it.

What Regulus also didn’t know was you had been writing Sirius since Christmas about everything going on. There was no romance to the letters just sharing information. Sirius was worried to death about Regulus’ crazy decisions and the level of hate that Walburga had filled his head with. For you, it was nice to have an outlet to voice your own doubts on the ideology that you had grown up with. You had been doubting Voldemort for some time and it was nice to see that you weren’t crazy or being some jealous girlfriend who was pissy because her lover was away.

Sirius was as concerned about Regulus’ safety as you were. He was still offering to help keep the two of you safe if Regulus would stop being a death eater and join the order. You knew that wouldn’t go over well at all. Hell would freeze over before Regulus switched sides. You also knew that Regulus would leave you if you even suggested it. He would be so furious if he found out that you were talking to Sirius behind his back then to ask him to deflect would be a bigger kick in the balls.

Little did Regulus seem to realize, you hadn’t shared his pureblood beliefs in a long time. The two of you had “purebloods are the best and muggle-borns are rubbish” shoved down your throats since childhood. You had begun to question everything very early on but was afraid to make your feelings known. Maybe it was due to your aunt Druella threatening to you not to ruin your chances at marrying Regulus. You didn’t want to be a disappointment. After witnessing the way that Sirius was treated, you were even more afraid to speak up. If you were kicked out of the family, you would have no one to turn to.

“Y/n…”

You didn’t turn as Regulus’ voice pulled you from your thoughts. Why he hadn’t left yet was beyond you. Usually, Regulus would automatically apparate out when Voldemort called.

“Just go, Regulus.”

You coldly replied. At the moment, you couldn’t turn and look at him. You didn’t want to see that look in his eyes. Knowing that he was going to go torture or kill some innocent was something that you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to think about how the boy you had loved since childhood changed into someone that you didn’t know.

Regulus had changed…

The thought was startling to you. Looking up to the kitchen window, the thought came as a shock. You felt as if you had been smacked by a heavy book. Regulus was changing into someone you didn’t know. It wasn’t just when he was doing his job as a death eater it was all of the time. Perhaps you didn’t notice because you chose not to. Maybe you didn't want to accept that sweet boy that you played wedding with in Walburga’s back garden or the boy who could read you French poetry was now someone very different.

You have changed too…

You felt suddenly comforted by that comment. No longer were you the spoiled selfish princess whose only goal was to become Mrs. Regulus Black. You weren’t the girl that Druella and Walburga raised to be totally dependent on Regulus for everything. Now you wanted to see some good in the world. Good, that didn’t involve some dark lord with a superiority complex telling you how to believe toward another person’s blood status.

“Love...I didn’t mean what I said…”

You, again, didn’t turn to Regulus.

“You should go before you get into trouble.”

When you heard the front door shut, you turned. The living room now seemed very empty and quiet. You turned and went off in search of parchment. It was time to grow up.

“Another night alone…”

Regulus had been gone for an hour and a half when there was a knock at your door. Standing up, you frowned wondering who would be dropping by? Evan and Emma were at one of the Rosier estates in France celebrating their honeymoon and wasn’t due back for another week.

Dusting off your skirt, you slowly opened the door to see Sirius and Remus standing on the other side. Sirius immediately smiled but knew just by the look on your face something was wrong.

“I got your letter. You wanted to see me?”

You nodded and moved aside to let both men into the house. Remus seemed a little uneasy about coming in and you couldn't blame him. He was right for being worried about stepping into a known death eater’s home. You tried to give him a smile in hopes of providing some comfort. Remus only nodded and followed behind Sirius.

After shutting the door you turned back to your soon to be brother in law.

“I need you to talk some sense into Regulus. He won’t listen to me.”

Sirius frowned.

“What makes you think that he will listen to me?”

You ran a hand through your hair.

“I don’t want him to be killed working for Voldemort. He’s staying gone more and more. I don’t want to lose him to some madman.”

Remus and Sirius exchanged glances as Remus stepped closer. He didn’t have any personal issues with you. To Remus, you had always been kind but being kind didn’t mean that you wouldn’t turn back to “old ways” should it be required.

“Whose side are you on, Y/n?”

Crossing your arms over your chest. That was the million-dollar question and it had to be answered. Should you turn against your family to save Regulus or just be the “good wife” and watch him be destroyed? The answer was easy…

“I suppose that I am on your side now. I’m tired of always hating people and being miserable. I also don’t want to watch the man that I love die or be killed.”

That was the best statement that you could come up with. You had known of another death eater that had been killed by Voldemort personally for changing their mind about joining his side. The last thing that you wanted was for Regulus to be another one of those statistics.

“My offer still stands.”

Sirius said, keeping his voice gentle. Your eyes met him after a few moments.

“I just want Regulus safe.”

Before Sirius could respond the front door opened and closed. Regulus looked confused when he stepped into the living room. The last thing that he ever expected was to come home to Sirius and Remus standing in his living room.

“What the hell is going on here?”

He asked, immediately feeling on edge. Regulus’ night had been a shit show due to a new death eater chickening out of doing a murder that Regulus had to carry out. He was in a foul mood then finding the last person that he wanted to see in the world standing in his living room was a worse way to end the day.

Sirius turned his little brother. There was no denying that Regulus was a death eater. Just looking at his brother’s clothes told him everything that you said was right. Putting back the heartbreak, Sirius took a breath.

“Regulus, I know that you’re a death eater. The whole order knows.”

Regulus blinked a few times.

“Congratulations, you figured something out. If you have come to enlighten me on your discovery there is the door...now see your way out.”

Sirius shook his head.

“It's not that simple, Reg.”

Regulus nodded.

“Yes, actually it is. Open the door, step outside, then close it behind you. It’s very simple. I can even shove you out if you would like.”

Sirius had to fight back his own sass that was wanting to come out.

“Damn it, Regulus I am trying to save you.”

Regulus started chuckling at that comment. Sirius was trying to “save him.” That was cute and about 2 years too late.

“There is nothing that you can save me from. I have made my choice...just like you have.”

You finally looked up.

“Damn it, Regulus, listen to him!”

You snapped. Regulus turned his attention to you. Your face was unreadable. Regulus hadn’t seen that expression on your face before.

“Y/n, what are you talking about?”

Regulus asked. You sighed.

“He’s trying to help us so you won’t be killed or thrown into Azkaban. Regulus, I am scared for you. I know that you think you are doing the right thing but…”

Regulus held a hand up.

“Are you really agreeing with him? You’re supposed to be on my side! As my fiance, you are supposed to pick me.”

You softened your tone. Talking to Regulus like a child would get you nowhere.

“I am on your side that is why Sirius wants to help keep us safe. Regulus, I don’t want to lose you. People are dying on both sides and it's going for nothing. All of these innocent people are being killed and sooner or later Voldemort is going to pick on the wrong person and it will all go to hell. He won’t be there to keep you from prison or death. Reggie, you are just a number to him...he doesn’t care about the person that you are...our family...noth…”

“SHUT UP!”

Regulus yelled. You flinched and stepped back. He had never put an unloving hand on your before but telling him that his beliefs were wrong was likely to get yourself hexed.

Sirius stepped up.

“Reg, don’t yell at her. She is just…”

“Betraying me.”

Regulus interrupted. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Dude, that is a little harsh. Y/n is trying to protect you. She isn’t handing you over to the Nazis. I think that you know that this side...this whole being some idiots henchman isn’t you…”

Regulus didn’t reply. His eyes coldly looked between Sirius and yourself. You stepped a bit closer to him.

“Sweetheart, please.”

Regulus started laughing bitterly.

“Let me have the ring back.”

The sentence stung worse than a thousand bees. You couldn’t help letting your mouth fall as your right hand traced over your engagement ring.

“What?”

You stammered. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Give me the goddamned engagement ring back. I am not about to marry a stupid blood traitor. Sirius, you can have her. I don’t want her now. Get your shit and get out, Y/n.”

When you didn’t move fast enough, Regulus closed the distance between your body and his. He had your hand in his and roughly yanked the ring off.

“Never speak to me again.”

He hissed before turning and walking from the room. Neither Sirius, Remus, nor yourself was able to say a word until the bedroom door slammed. You couldn’t move. Did Regulus really end things with you? You were too stunned to cry. The man that was supposed to love and protect you had thrown you away like rubbish. This was worse than the brief break up earlier in the year...this was permanent and you had no idea how you were going to handle it.

“Y/n, you can come with us.”

Remus’ voice was soft as he gently put a hand on your back. Sirius was as stunned as you were. He NEVER expected Regulus to say those cold words to you. You were Regulus’ pet and now he disposed of you like dirt on his shoes.

Sirius quickly pulled himself from his stupor and turned to you.

“Come on, Y/n. We’ll keep you safe.”

______

@amelie-black

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[thevividgreenmoss]

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

[samwrights]

First Year Daddies (+ Kyoutani!)

I’m trying to spread out my requests—I have a whole bunch of Kuroo ones that I swear he is my most requested person. So let’s take a break from our beloved rooster and get some daddies up in this! That being said, this will kinda be a part 2 to Karasuno as dads, with the addition of our beloved Mad Dog. @dreamyjaems you know what’s up.

Kageyama;

Alright, let’s redeem Kags cause I did him dirty last time.

It took him sometime to get used to being a parent, but when he finally got it down, he loved every second of it.

Your daughter, now five years old, loves daddy just as much as he loves her.

Now that you’d gone back to work and the two of you had some semblance of a schedule, Kageyama was 100% in charge of childcare while you worked in the morning.

Lucky break for the two of you that Kags didn’t start practice until the afternoon, giving him time to take your little girl to kindergarten with you picking her up.

It was the same routine every morning—mommy goes to work and daddy makes pancakes while putting on Disney movies.

Always a short stack and he made sure to cut it up just the way his little girl liked it—into 16 pieces. Yes, 16. No more, no less.

Your daughter was a lucky little bugger, getting her fathers thick, silky hair. By this age, it’s incredibly long and Kags always brushes it and does it nicely before taking her to school, then off to work he goes.

His locksreen is definitely a picture of him and his daughter. It gets him through the day.

After picking up your child from school, you help her with homework since Kags won’t be home until later.

Sometimes, it really shocks you just how lucky the two of you got for having such a well behaved kid—super low maintenance, doesn’t really cause trouble. That is, until she starts missing her dad.

Yes, she is a hardcore daddy’s girl 💀

Usually, it’s around dinner time that she gets fussy because Kageyama will be waking through the door any minute and that minute canNOT pass soon enough. She’s more like you than you think.

“Hi sweetie,” you call out while you know for a fact he’s scooping up his little bean in his arms before coming to give you a kiss. Routine was nice that way.

The three of you go about your evening as per usual—having dinner together, you giving your little one a bath and Kageyama reading her to bed so that the two of you can cuddle up on the couch before turning in for the evening.

After he finishes reading, he joins you for your quiet time, seeing that you’re watching a movie and drinking a glass of wine. “I wanted to talk to you about...something.” He says stiffly. You quirk a brow at him after hitting pause, patiently waiting for him to continue. “How...how would you feel about having another one?”

“Another glass of wine? Hell yeah.”

“[name], no. Another kid.” Oh. Well, this is a shocking turn of events. Kageyama, the barely legal adult that initially had no idea whether or not was ready to be a father, wanted another child.

“Are you sure, Tobio?” Was all you responded with.

“Obviously, since I’m asking you,” there’s a twinge in his voice that you aren’t sure you’ve heard before. Not quite begging, per se. perhaps imploring was a better word for it? “I love our family and I just want it to keep growing.”

This was such a far cry from the man that Kageyama Tobio was six years ago when you first found out you were pregnant, and you would be lying if you said that his admission didn’t turn you on in the slightest.

“Well we’ve got some work to do then, buddy.”

Hinata;

Hinata Shoyo finally got his wish. With his son, now 10, and daughter, now 8, your youngest daughter was nearing her terrible twos.

There was nothing more in the world that your newest baby loved more than daddy.

It was actually kind of irritating, actually, because if Shoyo wasn’t home, she would cry and throw temper tantrums until your husband walked through the door.

Shit, it even irritated your other two kids who, in order to avoid it all, would usually be at their friend’s houses doing homework and hanging out until they knew their dad would be home.

If only you were able to do the same.

The second that Sho walked through the door, every sound in the Hinata household ceases, as if your toddler wasn’t just screaming her lungs out moments ago.

“Hi, princess! Did you miss daddy today? I know I missed you a whole bunch!”

On god, he is such a good dad it hurts. He’s gotten even better since the addition of the youngest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you greet with a quick peck onto his lips. His daughter, and yes very specifically the almost two-year-old is his daughter, grunts in discomfort despite being held by dad. She doesn’t like the fact that you took dad’s attention away for a second. “Oh, quiet you.” You grumble at her.

“[name]! Be nice to angel!” You roll your eyes at him instead. As if you haven’t raised your last two kids, who were now walking in the door. “Come on, pumpkin, let’s go get some food in our bellies!”

Hinata places her in her high chair, obnoxiously making little airplane noises as he feeds her. Spoiled little brat.

“Mom,” your son starts cautiously, looking back and forth between his father and baby sister. “Was dad always like this?” He asks, referring to the overly enthusiastic train noises your husband was making.

“No, honey.”

“Okay, just making sure he hasn’t been a dork our entire lives.”

“Oh, that? Yeah.”

Tsukishima;

It needs to be reiterated, you felt, that Tsukki is an amazing father.

Your oldest and Kei’s step-daughter, now 12, and your youngest daughter, now 7, would vehemently agree.

They never did actually grow out of the habit of calling him Tsukki, as opposed to dad. Though when speaking to other people, they both referred to him as their father.

It was quite endearing, actually. Your family was happy with the way things were, even if they were slightly unconventional.

Sunday mornings were family days—an adamant rule in the Tsukishima household. Kei would be in charge of making breakfast while you and the girls blasted some upbeat music while tidying up your rooms.

While Kei does not find Kesha and Lizzo to be “the classics” as you so put it while you cleaned, he did find it amusing to see all three Tsukishima women dancing and singing while cleaning.

Lowkey, it warmed his heart to know these were the three women of his life.

Kei is still the same protective dad he was even before having his own child—it only got worse when your oldest started showing an interest in the opposite gender.

Ya know how he wasn’t afraid to fight a toddler for his little girl? He’s definitely not afraid to fight some middle school punk.

Especially when your oldest comes home bawling her eyes out because she had decided to confess to the boy she liked and he had said he didn’t return feelings.

No matter how much you tried to console her, nothing you said seemed to work. It was dad’s turn.

Tsukki sits her down, his face as serious as ever, before adjusting his glasses to look at his step-daughter clearly. “Don’t tell mom that I said this, but boys ain’t shit.” 💀💀💀

“Ooooh, Tsukki said a bad word.” She joked in between her now calming tears.

“It’s true, though. Now come on, chin up. Princesses can’t have their heads down, their crowns will fall off.”

Yamaguchi;

Despite the years of torture and struggle that was raising your twin hellions, Tadashi was kind of feeling a little empty now that the boys had grown into being more independent.

They were now seven-years-old, in sports, getting good grades—it’s like they were replaced with a different set of twins.

However, this also grants Tadashi the chance to actually step in and be a father, rather than letting those two run him ragged all day.

I see Yamaguchi being a slightly more strict parent, but loving nonetheless. Because the twins have always sort have been troublemakers, he’s strict on making sure the boys are home in time for dinner and that their schoolwork is done.

If they aren’t 💀💀💀

Honestly, your guys’ life though is just all around peaceful and a small part of you is longing for chaos.

So before the two of you head to sleep for the evening, your both just chilling in bed, maybe reading a book. Ya know, like 90s sitcom style.

“Hey Tadashi, can I ask you something?” That was never a good sign in his book, but he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to proceed. “How would you feel if we had another kid?”

“Wait, are you pregnant?” You certainly didn’t miss the panic that filled his eyes. Oh. There’s your answer.

“No...I just...kinda miss holding a baby, ya know? Our boys are seven now, they don’t want mom anywhere near them and they think my hugs and kisses are gross.”

Ngl, it kinda hurts him to hear that because he knows it hurts you. All he wants to do his make you feel better.

“I mean, I’m not opposed I’m just—“

“Scared the next one is gonna turn out the same way?” He laughs at the fact that you know him so well. “Don’t get me wrong, I am too. But in the end, we raised them so well. I don’t think we’ll have anything to worry about.”

Kyoutani;

The two of you never ceased to surprise anyone.

At first, it started with the two of you dating in your third years of high school, all the way through college (which, it shocked some that he in enrolled in university at all), to bringing your three-year-old son to the class of 2014 reunion.

Where did people even begin? The fact that you two had been dating for ten years or the fact that the two of you were parents?

It bothered you when people made assumptions about Kentarou.

Yes, he was cold and brash and a complete pain in your ass, but he was a damn good life partner and father.

Kyoutani wasn’t satisfied with anything if he wasn’t giving it his all—that includes his relationship with you and your guys’ son.

While he isn’t necessarily the most affectionate person, he always made sure his little family had everything they needed.

Yahaba is the first one to approach the three of you, surprised to see Kentarou holding his little one. “Holy shit, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Language.” Your boyfriend bites out. A small laugh escapes your lips as you pat him on the back in reassurance as you give Yahaba a hug.

“Nice to see you too, Shigeru.” The former setter looks between the two of you, then looks at your son.

“It’s so scary to see your mini-me with his eyes.”

“Don’t be rude.” You chide him calmly, while Kyoutani feels his blood boil slightly. That sounded like an insult to him. Wordlessly, he hands over your son before squaring up with his former teammate. “Honey, please don’t start a fight.”

You were one of the few people to calm him down; a given considering your decade together.

Backing down, Kentarou retreats to your side, securing an arm around his waist and placing a chaste kiss in his sons hair. Knowing his mannerisms, you knew that was an apology to his child for losing his cool for a minute.

“Holy shit.” Yahaba repeats, stunned by the display of affection

“Language!” Your boyfriend snarls again through clenched teeth, making you laugh again. The three of you were far from perfect, but you had everything you needed.

[conaionaru]

Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye Oneshot

Such a lovely bride

Even covered in dirt and messy hair, she was breathtaking. Grinning at him from her spot under him, soft chuckles leaving her lips. "You didn't have to trip me."

"Why? I like seeing you like this." He teased back and kissed her cute little nose, snorting when she crunched it up. She threw him off and looked up at the hill that they tumbled down.

She wanted to be chased, and as the nice guy he was, he agreed. It wasn't his fault they fell down the hill, really. He tripped on a root, and if he should fall, so shall she. Sigurd would do anything to spoil Korra rotten. He was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok. All those riches and fame would finally be for something good.

"You are staring again." She teased with raised eyebrows.

"I made you another song." Sigurd pulled his oud out, but she dragged him over to the sand and the lake. Pulling off her shoes, Korra ran into the water, not caring if her skirts got wet.

Watching her twirl in the cool water was like watching a Nymph or a faerie. Sigurd could watch her for hours if it didn't look so creepy. Ever since he first saw her, he felt a pull towards Korra.

At fifteen, she stumbled into him from behind, dressed in her brother's clothes, carrying a basket of fish. Instead of apologizing as other girls would have, she called him rude and stuck her tongue out. He could still hear his brother's laughing at his starstruck expression and his stupid smile whenever he thought of her. But it was all worth it when he brought her flowers, and she giggled for the first time.

It was like the loveliest melody, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't create one as lovely as hers. So Sigurd vowed to hear it every day from now on. And no matter what Ubbe said about fading love, Sigurd was sure he would marry that girl. No matter how wild and untamed she might be.

"Well? Aren't you going to play for me?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder with her cute grin that was a mix between teasing and challenging. So he picked up his oud and played the song that he wrote just for her. It took him a fortnight to make it perfect, and the smile that she flashed him was worth it. But the kiss on his lips when she crawled out of the water was even better.

Laying side by side and watching the clouds pass by as they held hands was bliss. The peacefulness was a nice change to the usual chaos of his family. "That one looks like a goat."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. It has the same beard like you." Sigurd looked at her strangely while she cackled at her own joke. Rolling over, he hovered over her and tickled her side till she trashed under him and begged for mercy.

"Stoooop. Siguuuurd! Stop it! I command you!"

He chuckled and looked into her blue eyes with a silly smile. "Who are you to command a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and brushed his shaggy hair behind his ear. "Korra, the fisherman's daughter. I have been called the most beautiful woman out there. I think it a lie, but he insisted."

"Pesty, isn't he?" He leaned closer till their lips brushed against each other, blue eyes meeting green.

"It's lovable, really." They locked lips in a sweet kiss and laid back down, this time Korra rested on his chest in silence. Sleepily drifting off till the sun went down and they had to return home.

Returning to the Great hall to dine with his family was like a punishment after the moments he spent with Korra. Ivar parading Margrethe around like a won prize was laughable. Especially after the thing, the slave confessed to him.

"It makes me so happy you are with a woman," Aslaug told her youngest and then turned to her other children.  "The rest of you should already be married. Ubbe, you should have children."

"I probably already have." They all chuckled, but Aslaug wasn't amused by them.

"Just because you are the sons of a king does not mean you can be irresponsible. It's important to find a woman and settle down."

He couldn't help but scoff, glaring at his mother. "I thought I had found a woman. But you forbid me from asking for her hand."

"You don't have to love the woman. As a king's son, you can have as many women as you like... But you need one to breed with."

"Why bind some other woman to me when I already have one that could give me children if I just asked her."

Aslaug shook her head and waved him off. "Korra is not wife material."

"Why not?"

"Because she is crazy." Ivar laughed.

Sigurd's gaze snapped over at him. "Shut your mouth, Boneless!"

"She runs around dressed as a man and talks to herself. She is always dirty and has no manners, brother. I am just saying that she is not good for you."

"What do you know of women, Ivar, huh? If it weren't for Ubbe, you would have never seen one naked. Besides the mother, of course. No other woman would ever love you. And she doesn't even love you; she pities you. We all do. Sometimes we wish she just left you to the wolves."

"Sigurd, that is enough! I know your feelings for this girl. But she does not befit a prince. If you really care for her, I will find her a good match that fits her more. A nice boy who will treat her nicely."

"Kora doesn't want to marry anyone! Especially not a stranger that you chose for her! She would throw herself off a cliff before marrying him!"

"That's a shame then. She would've made such a lovely bride."

"What a shame she's fucked in the head," Ivar said, and the next moment, Sigurd threw himself on top of him, and a fight broke out.

He met Korra at the hour of the wolf. Her standing there with her hair messy from sleep, covered with a shawl for extra warmth. He pulled his fur cloak around her shoulders and flattened down her hair. "What happened to your face?"

"I fought with Ivar."

"So, the usual. What was it this time? Did he wreck your hairbrush? Mess with your oud?" She teased and danced closer to him, but it did nothing to lift his mood.

He sighed and took her hands in his, looking at her with soft eyes. "It was about you. Mother is pushing us into marriage, and when I suggested you, he said some things."

Korra smiled at him and nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. "He called me crazy, didn't he?"

Sigurd tried to lie to her, but he just couldn't when she looked so heartbroken. "Don't lie, Sigurd. Everyone says so. And maybe he is right. I mean, I am sure your mother doesn't approve either."

"It doesn't matter what mother or any of them think! We can run away and marry in secret. We could get a little cottage far away from all the eyes and responsibilities, with little goats and a lake nearby."

Korra shook her head and smiled at him sadly. "You know that would never work. Father was right; it wouldn't last."

"It won't if you just give up, Korra! Just say yes, and I will take you away from here! I will make you the happiest bride in all of Norway. Just say, yes!"

"No." With a tearful smile, she dropped his hand and walked away, trying her hardest not to look back and fall into his arms. She wanted to tell him yes so badly. But he was a Ragnarsson and a prince. It wasn't right to keep him all to herself and abandon all the glory that awaited him in the future.

After the proposal, she accepted Aslaug's suitor and let their mothers plan her wedding to a man she never met before. Her heart longed for her sweet Sigurd and his songs and kisses and hugs. He grew angry and fought with his brothers more than before.

No matter how many times he tried to seek her out and talk to her, she avoided him like the plague and concentrated on her upcoming wedding. After both Ragnar and Aslaug died and Ubbe married Margrethe, she though Sigurd would focus on getting revenge on the Saxons.

But he was always so fiercely loyal to her. So when she saw him standing there on her wedding day, it broke her heart once more. It was like a cruel riddle - who was more hurt? Her with her unhappy marriage or him all alone and angry.

Her new husband wasn't ugly or cruel. He was sweet and kind, patient above all else. But he wasn't the one she wanted.

"I swear." He said confidently, smiling down at her encouragingly to repeat the words.

"I swear." She echoed with a shake of her head, letting her new husband kiss her. Her eyes subtly drifted to Sigurd's retreating frame in the distance. Tears trailed down her cheeks, but she told him that they were from happiness.

She was a married woman now, her husband, a respectable merchant. Rich but not too much and gentle. Korra expected to forget about everything and live a happy life with many kids. A year into her marriage and Ubbe returned to Kattegat with his brother Sigurd. When she saw him get off the boat, her heart leaped, and she fought back a smile. Her husband, of course, ignored it, too focused on his work to notice her.

In the night, the hour of the wolf especially, she found Sigurd in their usual spot. He looked at her with sad eyes and tried to leave her alone. But something in her screamed out for her to stop him, so she did. "Why did you two come home alone? What happened to your brothers?"

"We fought."

"So, the usual." She smiled shyly as he laughed and nodded. The awkwardness all gone, as if they never split apart.

"This one was more serious. Nearly got an axe to the chest."

"What?" Korra shrieked out and pulled his tunic back to see the damage. True to his word, a thin scar on his chest was a bit above his heart. She stared at him awestruck, worried for his life. How close she was to losing him. Even though he was no longer hers.

"I am fine. I swear." She teared up and pulled back, cradling her hands close to her heart, still feeling his warmth by her. "How are you?"

"Married life is a bliss. He is very nice and kind. Patient and everything your mother promised he would be. We never hunger or fight... I should be happy and content..."

"But?"

"But... I am so lonely."  She sobbed out and looked back at him to see the same expression on his face. "They were all right, Sigurd. I am no wife material. I am so void and empty while he tries so hard. He wants children, and all I can do is nod along with like some broken little pathetic creature."

He strode over to her and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear how much he loved her and how perfect she was. For the first time in a year, she felt happy. Despite the tears and guilt she felt, she finally felt whole and content. Maybe it was wrong of her to do this; she was a worried woman now. Had a reputation to protect and a man to be true to. And yet she kissed him and liked it. She fell for Sigurd when she was just a child, and never would she stop loving him. She fell, and so did he.

[iturbide]

i can go on and on about how unbelievably dumb and convoluted rudolf's plan was and how his callous lack of foresight got his nephew needlessly killed (and also very nearly his own son, which would’ve defeated the whole purpose of all this) but we'd be here all day and you haven’t played SoV yet. Anywho, for the character meme maybe Morgan (either of them or both of them — your pick) or Ferdie?

Please do go on about how dumb and convoluted the plan was.  No, I have not played Shadows of Valentia, but I want to hear about this.  Tell me.  I would absolutely love to hear the details of this idiocy.  I have time if you are willing.

But also Morgans my children

How do I feel about this character?

I love Morgan.  I love both Morgans.  I love these aspiring tacticians who want nothing more than to match their genius parent, I love how they’re over-excitable as pranksters and sometimes spoil their own traps without meaning to, and I love the way they help spur their allies.  They’re just such wonderfully good kids and I want the best for them.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Once again I have to call in the “no one” card.  I tend to see the Morgans as the absolute youngest in the group, down there with Nah and Cynthia, and along with the whole wanting them to have a chance to live for themselves in a peaceful world, they’re just too young to think about romance for.  Let them live a good bit more first, then maybe I’ll think about it, but for now they just deserve to be happy and perfect their tactics and pranks.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

OWAIN.  He continues to be my go-to second-gen answer because he’s still so great and also the fact that they’re both in the Justice Cabal and can really go at it in equal measure with the over-the-top theatrics just makes it.  Cynthia’s part of the group, too, because the Justice Cabal can’t be complete without the Pega-Pony Princess, and I love the idea of them as a daring trio making adventures for themselves.  But also Morgan and Lucina as siblings is one of my favorite things -- a very literal brOTP -- and their relationship and how they bond through their supports is really heartfelt to me (especially given how Morgan flat-out refuses to wield Falchion because it means Lucina can’t and that’s not allowed to happen).

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

This is probably going to be very unpopular but F!Morgan’s supports are Bad.  She ends up being near Severa levels of manipulative, not to mention her sadistic streak with poor Yarne, and I just really don’t think that’s fair to her in any way.  M!Morgan’s supports are all delightful, and there is absolutely no reason why they had to make F!Morgan a borderline psychopath when her male counterpart is a perfect ray of sunshine (though they also had no reason to do That with F!Robin’s supports with Chrom compared to M!Robin’s, so I guess I have to chalk it up to IntSys being IntSys).  Basically I throw her canon supports out the window and draw off of M!Morgan’s supports for both of them where possible because it’s a significantly better pool to work from (and where it’s not possible I just axe the more disturbing tendencies that don’t line up with everything else about the characters).

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

I really wish canon hadn’t rehashed Robin’s situation with Morgan.  Robin made perfect sense as an amnesiac since they’re our point of view character, and we’re experiencing all the twists and turns with equal inability to predict where things are going; Morgan has no good in-game reason to have no memory, so I really wish they hadn’t done it.  Let Morgan remember both their parents: it’s not like it would be hard to change their supports since they just rehashed all father supports for all the other kids.  Even if Morgan IS from another timeline, or even Future Past, I think it would have been far more interesting if they’d actually had a story of their own to contrast with Robin -- especially if it could have helped bring back some of Robin’s own memories.

EDIT because I missed it the first time through I am so sorry Ferdie

How do I feel about this character?

Perfect ray of sunshine.  Absolute joy of a human being.  A man who lights up any room he walks into with his sunny disposition.  People who do not love Ferdinand von Aegir probably missed something or else didn’t bother talking to him outside of monastery dialogues.

Basically Ferdinand is one of the best things about Three Houses and I will stand by that.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

HAHA TRICK QUESTION I have I think two romantic ships across all of Three Houses and Ferdinand von Aegir does not feature in either of them.  With that said I really enjoy his supports with Mercedes and how he goes all Knight in Shining Armor and breaks into a Kingdom noble’s domain specifically to dig up evidence of her step-father’s terrible behavior?  Legendary.  He and Hilda make a nice pair, too, and the fond indulgence in their conversations is really pleasant.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Dorothea all the way.  I love their Support chain and how Dorothea finally stops pushing him away off of a mistaken assessment of his character, and I think it makes the foundation for an incredibly powerful friendship; also Ferdie as her biggest supporter as an opera diva is just phenomenal.  I also really enjoy his relationship with Hubert since they’re so firmly rooted in opposite camps but still clearly trying to do what’s best for the Empire; their grudging respect for one another that grows into a bizarre unorthodox friendship (up to and including Hubert looking out for Ferdinand, which confuses both of them) is an endless delight.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

...are there unpopular opinions to be had about Ferdinand von Aegir, Literal Ray of Sunshine?  ...except maybe that he is a pain to try and recruit he was the last one I managed in my original Golden Deer run and I did it literally in the last available week I know you’re a noble Ferdinand but cut me some slack Ferdie your B support doesn’t unlock until post-timeskip and heavy armor’s a stupid requirement.

...and even then I think most people would agree with me if they’re starting from scratch rather than New Game +.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

I really wish that CF had given him a better role.  Although that’s kind of what I wish for most of the characters in CF, Ferdinand in particular suffers for the fact that he does see issues in Edelgard’s approach, which is clear just from his supports with her (she hadn’t considered public schooling at all before he brought it up); the fact that his opposition and pushback to her methods are shunted off into Supports and End Cards does him a disservice, especially given how dedicated he is to the idea that nobles are duty-bound to care for and protect their people -- something that is not happening with Edelgard’s war in full swing.  I would have loved to see him argue her decision to attack the Alliance, or leave Caspar’s father in charge, or any number of other things, rather than passively going along with everything despite how war harms the most vulnerable -- aka the commonfolk -- before anyone else.

Give Me a Character

[kneamet]

Reader and Freddie Page have three sons. Freddie is very proud of the boys. He is a good father. It's Christmas. Reader is crying in the bedroom. She wants to run away with boys from her husband, but she knows her sons love their father. Freddie comes to her. He says he knows she is thinking of running away. He promises her that if she does, he won't rest until he finds her.

Trigger Warning: kidnapping, obsession, yandere.

Word Count: 

Character: Freddie Page/reader

Summary: You've been living in the house with your husband, Freddie, and your three sons for a long time. However, it's a pity that they don't know that you want to run away

POV Your

You didn't like Freddie Page. Although that was an understatement, because sometimes, but lately more and more often, you felt a fierce hatred for him. You didn't understand him. He was the exact opposite of you, and he forced you to do it.

But you knew you had to restrain yourself. That you should break off your "friendship" early and do not do it, since Freddie needs a huge psychological and moral support. You really tried to help him. Understand his feelings. However, in the end, all your thoughts and common-sense motives were stuck in a post. You didn't know what to do with it or how to help him.

Trying to get him out of the ' 40s and the war that Freddie went through with a lot of hard work, you didn't realize that you were bumping into Page's hard back, because you didn't need to understand him. Including at the very beginning and pay attention to it. Why did you go to the damn pub in the first place? I wouldn't have run into trouble and an unbearable friend in the person of Freddie.

And it seemed like everything started out fine, you could even say that it was good. However, after the support and the fact that he told you everything was getting worse. Again, you shouldn't have mentioned who you work for in your conversations.

You didn't get approval for your work from anyone. Including from Freddie. Apparently, he didn't want to accept that a delicate and delicate girl like you would do such things. But for you, it was normal.

Since then, Paige has taken too much care of you, even though you've rarely crossed paths. Unless it was just this obsessive presence and behavior on Freddie's part that really scared you.

How can you, a free woman who has achieved her own goal, be told anything? And then you didn't care about him or his feelings. You were just saying what you had to say. After all, you're not a car or a pet, you need freedom of action.

***

"...So you get the point, right? I tried to do it, but in the end... " you tried to listen to Freddie's never-ending chatter about the war. It was alien to you, you didn't want to listen to his speeches.

You sighed softly and looked at the door that was open. So wanted her to have gone from here. I wanted to. Yes, and this obsession. Since when does he have to know your schedule for the day? You always thought it was suspicious, but you didn't show it. I didn't want to spoil his mood.

"...So that's it..." without stopping, he continued, without stopping waving his hands. That was one of his tricks. He was so emotional."...When the Captain called me to his side..."

And you sighed softly again. No, it will never stop.

***

But now. You sighed softly. You couldn't change anything now. The Freddie of the new age is not at all like the old Freddie, who, although he was eerily obtrusive, at least supported you.

And the new Freddie... You sighed softly again, lowering your head. The new Freddie was terrible. Everything in the new age was terrible, except for your sons.

You gave me a weak, forced smile. They were the only ones who made you feel better in this prison. Your three favorite boys. The best and the cleanest.

Roger, Arthur, and Tommy. Their dark hair was passed down from their father and their beautiful soft eyes from their mother. They were all so different, but so smart beyond their years. Roger, for example, loved to draw and wanted to devote his whole life to art. You always told and encouraged him to ensure that he continued to draw and didn't give up. Arthur liked to design different buildings of houses. Tommy, your youngest son, very much and you would even say that a very long time ago-I saw myself as a military man. He was always your husband's favorite. Your face twitched involuntarily at the thought of Freddie being your husband.

You didn't want to think about it. For you, he has always been and always will be your captor, which is unlikely to ever let you go, and it was sad. You so wanted to break free, to see the white light again and enjoy the clean and fresh air. But Freddie never let you out into the street. Simply put, he almost strangled you with his annoying concern.

It was so stuffy. So unpleasant and suffocating. He made you just some kind of flawed girl that even a simple man's job can not do. Although that's what you used to do.

You didn't exactly call what Freddie did a kidnapping. Although he did not bring you to him by your will. Simply put, he made you, which always made you really angry.

You wanted to escape. Run away from this suffocating man, from this weather, and live a wonderful life again. That would be it... naturally. And you'd take your favorite boys with you, too. The only pity is that they loved their father too much.

Suddenly, a door creaked softly behind you. It was wooden and though new, but Freddie was never smart enough to lubricate it. He didn't seem to get tired of the squeaks. What not to say about you.

It wasn't just your husband who made you marry him that annoyed you, but the damn house you spent so many nights in trying to comfort Paige. But at this moment, and for the past few years, he seemed disgusting to you.

Although at first you thought Freddie was cute, but only if he looks good. Inside, morally, he was terrible and disgusting.

***

POV Freddie

He loved you. I loved him with all my heart. With all that heart that was literally sewn at the seams with a thin thread and was previously ready to burst from injustice in his direction.

Freddie never understood why he was so unlucky in love. After all, with Esther, his former girlfriend. He pursed his lips. A disgusting girl. And why had he treated her so tenderly and soothingly? He didn't understand.

Although Paige knew that she was just a lecherous girl, that she was ready to go to bed with anyone, just with money beckoning. Like a dog. And it was disgusting. Very disgusting.

She didn't even help him. Never. I never tried to comfort him, or even listen to him. But here you are, you were just a goddess in his opinion. The goddess who helped him get rid of his diseases and pens. You were the first to help him and listen to him, trying to understand the essence of his nightmares. It wasn't for nothing that you spent so much time with him in this house before you were married.

***

"Are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked, raising her right eyebrow and slightly arching it in a small bump, looking from her patient's card to Freddie himself.

Page pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and clenched his sweat-soaked hand into a tight fist. He hated to talk about it. It was so disgusting. Yell about your problems to some other person who really doesn't even care about you.

Freddie has felt this many times. He knew that his psychologist didn't care about his problems, and she just wanted to throw the former shell-shocked soldier out of her expensive and rich house as soon as possible.

"I'm sure, Mrs. Rogers."

***

But now. He felt great right now. He had his favorite girl, who was also happy for him and loved him as much as he loved her.

Oh, how he adored her. He adored her cleanliness, social behavior, and moral support. Freddie knew she was perfect. An ideal, a beautiful lady, comparable only to a Goddess.

And now it was bitter to look at his beloved. The way she sits on the edge of the bed in a fit of anger, anger and sadness, thinking about something bad.

What could it be? Quick thoughts flashed through Freddie's mind, and he ran at a brisk pace across the room he shared with his wife.

It wasn't very big. And the interior was as simple as an instruction manual for assembling a cabinet. An ordinary bed, which was of medium hardness, on which were white sheets, which were currently covered with a dark blue canopy. A small nightstand next to the bed, a dark wood wardrobe that contained all of his clothes, and a small shelf with books and a TV. It was hard to get, but Freddie was still able to buy it back from his friend for a decidedly inexpensive price.

"My lady..." Freddie murmured softly, kneeling in front of his beloved. He couldn't resist looking at her beautiful face again. Elegant, inviting eyes, his beloved lips that responded with great excitement to his voluptuous kisses, soft hair.

"Lady, I know everything," Freddie suddenly spoke loudly, making his beloved understand her gaze. She looked at him with disbelieving, sheep-like eyes that were wide open.

"W-what do you mean?" haltingly, after a little crying, she asked Page his favorite, to which he only frowned. Why is his beloved lying to him? "I don't understand."

"I know you'll think about running away," Freddie said calmly, resting his head on your thin knees. He talked about it as if he were talking to his friends about the weather. It was frightening. "I know, I know everything. I know. Don't take me for a fool," the man smiled to himself as he stroked your thighs. "But know this, my lady. I give you a promise: if you try this, I swear I will stop at nothing to find you," Freddie said with a strange, obsessive tenderness in his voice.