#and now she’s realising everything is returning back the way it was before the war where society rules matters and she has her own role as

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[youraverageaemondsimp]

To Ruin. // Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

THIS IS A DARK FIC, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

MDNI

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.

Summary: you are aegon's and helaena's daughter, being the eldest triplet, you were betrothed to your older uncle Aemond the moment you were born, he seemed to show no interest in you, being lost in his own world until he returns to kings landing and sees you again, in your prime age. // based on this request.

WARNINGS: noncon to dubcon, p in v sex, fingering, orgasm denial, knife kink, blood kink, dacryphilia, breeding kink, choking kink, corruption kink, purity culture, age system is in accordance to medieval/canon standards and not modern but do not worry they dont get sexual until reader is 19, virginity loss, tiddy sucking, thoughts of violence, fucked up shit, age gap (13 years), extreme canon divergence, cunty aemond + not proofread

WC: 4.3k

The moment you were born, you were immediately betrothed to your uncle, Aemond Targaryen. Alicent never wanted to betroth or marry someone from the same family after Aegon and Helaena but Otto convinced her to do so, even if they see it as a sin. Telling her that it would secure the hightower blood further down the line.

When Aemond was informed of this, he laughed, he was just thirteen back then, the idea of marrying someone that was just born seemed comical to him, especially when the babe was his elder sister's and elder brother's daughter, but he quickly accepted it, as he realised it was his duty.

Aegon however, was against it, calling you too young, but he was only sixteen at that time so his opinion was disregarded.

You were the oldest by an hour to your younger siblings, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

You were informed of your betrothal to your uncle when you were ten years old, that's when they deemed you old enough to understand what marriage and everything was. Aemond had turned twenty three that year, performing his duties as the prince of the realm, securing aegon's claim to the throne, claiming lands and power back to their hands successfully. At the end, Rhaenyra was successfully usurped, having lost way too much before she died at the hands of Aegon. And then came Aemond's march to Harrenhal, killing off every person that contained even a single droplet of the strong blood, except he spared one, Alys rivers, who he took as his war spoil and a bedmate.

He spent most of his time there with her in Harrenhal, burying himself deep inside of her, and other political matters, only returning to King's Landing when he was needed, just like now, but what he didn't expect was you. He was surprised to see you.

You were no more the gangly limbed child he knew you as and remembered you to be, your breasts and hips were fuller, your face having lost its childlike appearance as you were going through puberty, becoming more sharp and mature, having recently turned seventeen, You were becoming a woman now. You greeted him with a small smile. “Welcome back, Uncle.” you greeted him and he swallowed thickly, hoping you had not noticed how his breeches tightened as he got hard at the sight of you. Your beauty captured him.

“Niece, you've grown.” he comments, eyes shamelessly roaming over your breasts, which you weren't aware of, “You too Uncle, it has been a while since we properly saw each other.” you tell him and he hums, looking at the soft flush of your breasts pushing against the bodice, almost calling out to him to set them free, he fought with every urge to not do so.

It was when he spent some time with you, he realised he didn't know you at all, so he put in effort into knowing you, courting you properly which you were taken aback by, always knowing him to be distant towards you, but that was only because you were a child, you are a woman now, and he was a lot interested and willing to be with you.

It was on your eighteenth name day, which he attended, when he cut off multiple ladies tongues out for bad mouthing you, they had said mean things about you, calling you too old now, that nobody would be interested in marrying you if your betrothal to Aemond was called off, which was unsurprisingly a rumor circulating due to Aemond's involvement with Alys, his disinterest in you and your grandmother, Alicent, doing nothing to make the betrothal move forward. It had been a messy name day but it was also the moment you fell in love with your uncle, impressed by how he defended your honour and your name.

Aemond had to return to harrenhal as there were some pressing issues which needed to be taken care of, and he was less than enthusiastic about it, not even the thought of seeing his spoil made him excited. He was sitting on his chair doing the paperwork when Alys walked into the room, she sat on his lap and caressed his face, “What is it my love?” she cooed and he sighed heavily, not in the mood for her, “Get out.” he said, and Alys was heavily hurt by it, but left nonetheless. His mind was constantly on you, he remembers how your breasts pressed against his chest when you hugged him during your name day, and he immediately gets hard at the thought, that night, he finishes in his hand before cleaning himself up.

You had plagued his mind, cause he couldn't look at his lover nor bed her anymore because she isn't you, he was becoming more and more insatiable, tired of fucking his own hand, he was in need of a real cunt.

He stopped ordering silk green dresses for Alys and instead ordered dresses of material you would wear, the colour palette you dearly loved, and requested her to wear those instead, and do her hair up in a way you did, so he could at least pretend she was you when he fucked her, moaning your name loudly while being buried inside of her cunt. He knew he was being cruel to Alys, but he couldn't give a fuck, and Alys kept quiet, not wanting to anger him, knowing that he could kill her.

But it still wasn't enough, no, because it wasn't you.

Aemond was so delighted when he was called to the keep again, it means he got to see you, it was to discuss matters of the realm, and after what seems like hours, his mother finally changes the topic. Which catches his immediate attention.

“I think it is in our best interest if you marry aemond and y/n soon, maybe in a moons time, there have been various slanderous whispers about their betrothal, and i want to put an end to it.” Alicent says and Aemonds heart picks up it's pace at that. “It's better if we call off the betrothal.” Aegon's voice booms across the chambers. “I do not think it is necessary anymore, not after we have won the war. Rhaenyra is dead, the blacks are dead, my daughter shouldn't need to marry her uncle anymore.” Aegon reasons and Aemond clicks his tongue, “It is my duty brother, to keep our valyrian blood pure, I do not mind marrying my niece.” Aemond replies and Aegon sighs. “You need not perform your duty anymore, she is my daughter, and I do not wish her to be subjected to your cruelty, little brother.”

“My cruelty? What of your whoring?” Aemond grits his teeth, and Alicent visibly flinches at the mention but Aegon only laughs, “I have put it past me dear brother. You however, still are as merciless.” and Aemond scoffs.

“I want to marry her.” Aemond says, tone final, staring daggers at Aegon, and he just laughed. “Alright, Alright, it was merely a suggestion.” Aegon backs down which makes Aemond calm down. “The matter is settled then, the wedding will take place when the moon turns.” Alicent says and everyone nods.

Another moon to finally bed you? Gods be damned, he cannot wait that long.

So he didn't.

He snuck into your chambers that night, through the secret tunnels, he had expected you to be asleep but you were awake, sitting on the chaise, reading a book of some sort, but you didn't hear him enter your chambers, so you jumped when you heard him speak.

“Hello, Niece.” you snapped your head to the direction of the voice and were surprised to find Aemond.

“Uncle? What are you doing here” you asked and he just stalked towards you, “Mhm, is it wrong to see my future wife?” the word wife rolling off his tongue with such delicacy. “No- you misunderstand- i merely meant that–”

“What are you reading?” he asks, cutting you off and coming even more closer to you, he took the book from your hand and you stood up, feeling vulnerable when you were just sitting.

“A romance novel huh?” he asks and you nod, he would love to go through the content to tease you, but he had no interest in wasting his time, he came here with a purpose.

“Dear niece, we are to be wed in a moons time.” he says and you look at him, “Understood, Uncle.” his gaze was too intense, so you looked down in submission of a sort.

He felt his cock stir at that, the way your puffy lips were pouty, eyes darted to the ground, like a good obedient and innocent wife.

Oh seven hells how he wanted to ruin you.

And so he would.

You were surprised when Aemond threw the book on the chair before grabbing you by your arms and pushing you in the direction of your bed, he slammed his lips against yours in hunger, swiping your bottom lip with his tongue, you were frozen in shock before it finally clicked and you used all your strength to push him off.

“We-we shouldn't, we are yet to be man and wife.” you breathe heavily, hoping he'd understand but he doesn't. He pushes you down unto the bed before getting on top of you, you panic, “U-uncle- please.” you were scared.

You knew how dishonourable it is to lose your maidenhead before marriage, it will ruin your reputation, it did not matter whether the person who took it was soon to be your husband. It is a sin, and you were extremely protective over it. After all, your grandmother raised you to be protective of it, saying it is a woman's honour that should not be given carelessly.

“P-please uncle! You said we were to be wed in a Moon's time, then you can have me! Please!” you beg and he smirks, “No can do, niece. No way in seven hells am I waiting that long, not after I have suffered so much because of you.” he says, and before you can say something, he grabs your throat, choking you, “Shut the fuck up. I do not want to hear your pleas.” he says meanly before squeezing your neck tight, making you see stars and leaving your head feeling light as the blood supply to your brain was being cut off due to his ministrations.

“P-pl-ple-” you try to choke out, tears welling in your eyes until he finally lets go of your throat, causing you to gasp for air, the air entering your lungs so quickly making it painful.

Aemond takes the dagger from its holder and starts cutting, tearing up your nightgown, the sound of clothes tearing filling the chambers as you pleaded him to get off of you, how your virtue was an important thing to preserve, how embarrassing it would be if you did not bleed on your wedding night, but all of that fell deaf to his ears, his only mission was to fuck you.

Soon enough, you are completely bare, you crossed your arms across your chest to protect your dignity but he pulled them apart, pinning them to your sides, “Do not hide yourself from me.” he said, voice low, emitting a slow growl. You sobbed.

“P-please, I promise I won't resist or hide myself from you- just wait until our wedding night, I am begging-” he shuts you up by pushing his lips against yours, his hands leave yours before he starts undressing himself, undoing the clasps on his clothing, he pulled apart to completely rid himself of his clothes, feeling to suffocated.

He was very fit, lean muscles coating his body, defining and toning his arms, chest and thighs, you felt yourself clench at the sight of him so bare, you were beginning to get aroused.

Aemond leans and places gentle kisses on your face, before trailing down your neck to lick and bite at them, you felt a burning sensation when he bit too hard, causing you to yelp, he pulled back and looked at the bite in satisfaction, which was now drawing blood. You whimpered pathetically.

You didn't like the feeling of ache between your thighs.

Aemond leaned down once again to take one breast into his mouth, suckling on it like a hungry babe, causing you to gasp, your breasts were extra sensitive considering you were near your moons blood, you gripped his hair and tried to pull him away but, he bit down harshly onto to your nipple making you tug harder at his hair for the pain to subside, however the more you tried pulling him off, the harder his bit and latched on, the other hand painfully dug into the flesh of your other breast, nails biting through the skin, so you removed your grip on his hair, and only then did he stop his inflictions of pain on your tits, beginning to suckle at your nipple in a pleasurable way,

Your hand reflexively went to his hair again, but this time instead of trying to pull him, you held him there like that, arching your back when you felt his warm tongue tickle the bud, shoving more of your breast into his mouth, he hummed in satisfaction before he pulled away with a wet pop, to continue the same thing on your other breast.

It was sensual, it was so slow, and you were getting aroused by the minute but your fear of committing a grave sin still plagued your mind.

“A-aemond-” you say his name making him groan and pull away to look at you, “Gods, when you say my name like that- it makes me want to ruin you so fucking hard.” he confesses and you gulp, his hands part your thighs, exposing your core to him.

You try to clench them shut in reflex but he holds them apart, visibly drawn by it, you felt the cool air hit your clit making you shiver, he trails his hand down your inner thigh before rubbing small circles there, teasing you.

You whine, the ache beginning to get even more stronger, making you buck your hips, hoping his hand grazes over the sensitive part, but he just chuckles, “Greedy are we? What happened to waiting till marriage?” he mocks you and you fight back the tears of shame, he then presses his fingers right onto your core, parting the flesh and caressing your clit, you twitch at the foreign sensation.

His other hand leaves your thigh as well, and he uses both of his thumbs to hold the flesh covering your core apart before he leans down and sucks on your pearl, making you arch your back in pleasure, his tongue flickers over your bud constantly, sending sparks of pleasure.

You were shocked when he did that, how can someone put their mouth over there?

Your hips start to move on their own, trying to keep up with his rhythm, he groans at your attempts and pulls away, you whine at the lack of warmth, “Be still.” he says and descends onto your clit again, and you try really hard to be still but you couldn't help it, you grip his hair, shoving his face into your cunt to the point he was suffocating but it didn't matter to him, this would be the best way to die according to him.

You feel something creeping up at your core, a itch that keeps plaguing you, a certain type of string tightening constantly as he continued his actions, you were confused until you were snapped out of your own confusion by an overwhelming feeling of pleasure hitting your body, causing you to moan loudly into the chambers. Aemond drinks up your release like a dehydrated man before pulling away and looking at your face, he chuckles when he finds you looking confused and dazed, eyes teary, wondering what the feeling was.

“It's called a peak, my love, was it your first time?” he answers, staring at your face and you tilted your head in confusion.

Women can peak?

You knew how the act is performed, the cock goes into the cunt, and you're supposed to lay there taking it as your husband impregnates you. It was taught to you by your grandmother alicent, it was supposed to hurt, not feel intimate. If you're lucky, you'd get a few kisses on your face and neck.

But what aemond did was so foreign, you didn't know you could experience sexual pleasure like this.

“Y-yes, but i- i didn't know.” you blush while saying it, you don't need to finish the sentence before aemond caught on and Aemond almost moaned at the thought that you didn't know anything, that you probably thought that sexual pleasure can only be felt by a man.

Oh how he was going to show you all the ways.

Oh how he was going to corrupt you.

He smirked.

You looked up at him, the tears from the orgasm threatening to fall, and oh gods how that made him want to be extremely cruel, he wanted to ruin you. It set off his blood thirst, something he would only feel while fighting during battles, when he burnt the riverlands with vhagar, when he took the life of his own uncle, when he slaughtered the strong house watching as the blood coats the ground, the screams of men, women and children alike. He hadn't felt that in a while considering the war was long over.

And so he would.

His eyes trail over to the dagger that laid forgotten on the bed, and he reached out for it, changing his grip and pointing the blade at the direction of your body, you look at him in what seemed like fear but he didn't care, he brought the blade down gently, and then pressed it against your skin, piercing through the skin. You winced at the burning sensation, he removed the blade and watched as beads of blood poured out, he leaned down and licked it all up, the iron tasting sweet to him.

You whimpered in pain, feeling the twinge, when the wound was met with his saliva, causing an even more burning sensation to plague at your skin.

He pulled back and watched as the blood smeared onto the surrounding skin, the wound already trying to close up. He looked at your pained expression and decided that he wouldn't be that cruel and scar your body as much as he would've loved to since it was your first time with him, he needed to leave a good impression after all. When you're truly his wife, he'd ruin so much.

He watched as the tears fell down your face, he licked them up before pressing gentle kisses to your eyes. “Shh.. It's okay, I won't do more.” he says and you whimper, trusting him.

He pulls back and grabs his hard leaking cock. The tip all flushed pink, it looked so painful.

It was painful, he was so fucking hard the entire time, he was trying to savour everything before he fully went in, but he realised he had no such patience for that.

He lined it against your cunt, and slid his cock up and down, coating him in your juice before he caught the tight hole which wouldn't open at all, and he realised he needed to prepare more for you to be able to take him.

So he replaced his cock with his fingers, shoving one inside you slowly, feeling all the ridges of your inner walls, wishing it was his cock that was inside you.

He started pumping in and out, curling his fingers from time to time to graze over the rough part located inside you, and you felt your stomach tightening again, and before you could reach your peak, Aemond pulled his fingers out. “H-huh?” you looked at him confused and he smiled meanly before shoving his fingers once again, and making you come to the edge but never topple over it, pulling out every time you were so close. It made you frustrated.

He decided you were relaxed enough to take his cock, so he replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing the tip inside, making you grip your bedsheets underneath tightly.

He wanted to go slow, let you adjust to him, but it was way too much, he finally got to be inside you after what felt like way too long, these past few years he always dreamt of this moment, so he lost control and slammed himself fully inside you cruelly, pushing to the hilt, making you scream in pain, which he shushed you by cooing you and caressing your cheek.

Your legs twitched visibly, he pulled back, thinking he was taking his cock out, you relaxed but then he slammed into you, causing you yelp and then he started pulling and pushing over and over again, the pace messy at the first because your walls were still trying to adjust to him, sometimes even pushing him out.

But then as the continued thrusting, the pain slowly went away and you felt pleasure beginning to rise, causing you to relax around, and he moaned in pleasure when he felt you loosen up around him, not holding his cock in a tight grip that made it impossible to move without hurting you.

He fastened his pace, unable to hold himself back, he fucked into you brutally, breaking your maidenhead, he watched the sight of your maiden blood coating his dick leaking onto the white sheets below, and he moaned your name.

The chamber was filled with lewd noises, wet slapping sounds as his hips rammed against yours, his balls slapping at your ass as he thrusted in and out, sweat coating his eyebrow, he was grunting loudly, he wasn't usually a vocal person, but with you? you bought out the worst in him.

He felt his peak beginning to come, but he wanted you to peak first, so his hand went over to your clit and rubbed small circles over it, and the pleasure intensified for you, you peaked extremely hard, wet fluid gushing out of you, all because of the multiple denied orgasms finally catching up to you.

Aemond moaned as he watched your juice coating his cock, and he was reaching his peak too, “Fuck- fuck- going to fill you up, with my seed, watching you grow round with my child in your belly.” he babbled and reached his peak, his cock twitching inside you, shooting ropes after ropes of cum, coating your walls.

He didn't pull out, staying inside, making sure his seed didn't spill, he began to soften inside you.

He pulled and held you close to him, before he propped down on your bed, pulling you on top of him, his cock slipping from inside you at that, you laid on top of him, head on his chest as you listened to his fast heartbeat, it was relaxing for an odd reason.

He grabbed the sheets and threw them over both of you, covering you and himself and then slowly drifting off to sleep.

The maid couldn't have picked the worst time to enter the chamber in the morning, she usually entered without knocking since you and her were close, but she gasped when she found you stop aemond cuddled and then noticed the blood on the sheets, it didn't take a genius to figure out what went on, and she quickly reported it to the dowager queen.

Enraged was an understatement. Alicent was extremely disappointed, barging into the room, by then aemond had already put on his breeches and he was confused when he saw her, then he figured it out.

You woke up, gripping the sheets tightly to your chest as you watched your grandmother yell at her son, your uncle.

And just then your father barged in, along with your mother, she quickly rushed over to you to check if you were alright and looked at her younger brother in disappointment.

Aegon had never been angry like that in his life, he went straight for Aemond, tackling him to the ground, trying to hit him, “You ruined her! Couldn't your ass wait until the wedding? What was it that made you so impatient?” Aegon yelled at his brother, and Aemond dodged every hit Aegon threw his way.

“Fucking CUNT!” He was mad, and one of hits finally landed on Aemond, punching him right in the face.

“Father! No! Please.” you yelled, but he didn't listen and that's when you started sobbing loudly, which made him immediately halt and rush over to you. Aemond spit the blood that coated his mouth on the ground and got up.

“My dear.” Aegon looked at you sadly, noticing all the cruelty Aemond left on your body.

“The wedding is to be held in a week.” Alicent's voice booms the chambers

“Mother you cannot be serious! He-” the king tried to reason with her, but she looked at him with a stern expression and he backed down, he was the king yes, but he knew he would never stand a chance against his own mother.

Aemond simply smirked, accomplishing what he had wanted, Aegon glared at him.

“Please, I want to be alone.” you say and everyone looks at you, you were extremely tired and you didn't want this hassle.

The matter came to an end like that, you watched everyone leave reluctantly, except Aemond, you looked at Aemond, waiting for him to leave, but instead he sat down next to you and made himself comfortable in your presence.

Aegon grit his teeth, turning around to storm into the room but Alicent and Helaena held him back, and you didn't say anything else, but leaned your head on Aemonds shoulder.

That told everyone what you wanted and they soon left, you allowed yourself to get comfortable in his presence. Slowly falling asleep.

“My sweet girl.” you heard him coo before the sleep finally pulled you under.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[hellodarling1357]

Tiny Toes: Part 7 - Cassian x Reader

Hello hello hello!! It's only been...five months... (sorry) but I am back and have some goodies lined up for you all.

To get us started, here's the next, long-awaited part of Tiny Toes - I did see everyone's messages and they all meant so, so much. You have no idea! So thank you for all your kind words and encouragement!

I've schooched away from the timeline a bit with this one and jumped ahead a little, I might be bouncing back and forth while I get back into the rhythm of things but everything will line up in the end.

Please let me know your thoughts, seeing all of your comments and messages truly make my day and inspire me to keep writing!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 7k (oohh it's a long one!!)

You can read the previous part here

Recent news of disturbances throughout the Continent had sent the High Lords into a state of panicked caution – memories of Hybern and Amarantha still raw in the aftermath of the war. As a result, Rhysand and the rest of his inner circle had been staying in the Dawn Court at Thesan’s palace, alongside the other High Lords and their courts, as they debated what to do next and planned how best to stay on top of the situation to prevent further conflict from crossing into Prythian’s shores.

Unfortunately for both you and Ottie, this meant Cassian’s absence was now pushing into its fifth week. Selfishly, you wanted him home with you; had you had a say, you would have never wanted him to leave in the first place. Cassian had also been reluctant to go, memories of the teary farewell still made your heart throb, however, he would never be able to live with the guilt of abandoning his duties and responsibilities to both his High Lord and Court. Even though you knew it was for the best, that didn’t stop the longing ache that came from missing him so desperately. You hadn’t realised it was even possible to miss someone this much, yet this had been the longest the two of you had been apart since falling into each other’s lives, the longest Cassian had ever spent away from Ottie, and you found everything slightly off kilter and as though it was all at a standstill without him by your side.

In Cassian’s absence, Ottie had very quickly wormed her way into his side of the bed. Usually, the two of you discouraged her from doing so, cherishing the limited time you had to simply be together at the end of the day without the interruption of a small, yet demanding, child, as well as Cassian’s taxing duties as General and your own work. However, waking up that first morning without Cassian in cold, unrumpled sheets had you quickly agreeing when Ottie had asked if she could have a sleep over with you.

The goodbyes had been hard. You had all decided to make the most of the day that Cassian was set to leave as the inner circle weren't required to get to the Dawn Court until later that night. The three of you had woken up early to make pancakes and Cassian’s special hot chocolate before heading out into Velaris to walk along the Sidra and grabbing lunch at your favourite little café that overlooked the shimmering water.

Upon returning home, Ottie had announced that she needed exactly 23 minutes to prepare as she ushered you and Cassian into the kitchen, closing the doors firmly behind her. Neither of you said much in those 23 minutes, choosing instead to bask in the silence, only interrupted by a few bumps and Ottie’s hurried “everything’s fine”, and being in one another’s company. Cassian had leant against the kitchen counter, pulling you snuggly into his arms and enveloping the two of you even closer together as his wings draped around you. In return, you had wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burying your face into his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head.

“I’m going to miss you,” your voice came out muffled as you pressed tighter against him, willing away the tears that had started to trek down your cheeks.

“I’d hope so.”

You looked up, ready to chastise him for not returning the sentiment but instead found yourself crumbling even further at the emotion you found on his face. There was too much happening for words, the unknown of when he would be home as well as the unknown of what may lay ahead if what was happening on the Continent turned into a bigger threat. So instead, you lifted your hands and gently wiped away his tears, heart fluttering as Cassian turned to press a chaste kiss to your palm that rested against his cheek, his eyes refusing to leave yours as he let out a shaky breath. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leant up on your toes, relishing in the feel of his arms tugging you even closer against him as he spun the two of you around and lifted you up onto the counter, your legs habitually wrapping around him as you pulled him closer so as to capture his lips with your own.

“Okay! I’m ready. You can come out now,”

Cassian made a disappointed noise at Ottie’s interruption, slumping against and leaning his forehead against your shoulder in defeat.

“Mum! Dad!”

Ottie’s singsong voice was laced with a threatening degree of impatience, making Cassian huff a sigh and quietly comment, “she’s too bossy for her own good.”

You laughed as you reached up to kiss him again before he helped you off the counter, one hand lingering between your shoulder blades as he led you into the living room, or what had once been the living room. In its place, a giant blanket fort had taken over the space with Ottie poking her head out of the opening, her face breaking into a wide grin as she ushered you both inside.

“Where did all these blankets and pillows even come from?” You asked, noting that most of them you had never seen before. Cassian just shrugged in response, eyes narrowing in on what lay in the centre of the rug.

“I’m not even going to ask where you got these, Otts.” Cassian promptly ignored the guilty look that graced Ottie’s face as he picked up one of the choc-chip cookies before making himself comfortable and pulling you down to sit snug against him. You smiled to yourself, realising the display of treats were more than likely from Elain and making note to yourself to ask your friend when she had dropped them off to figure out exactly how long Ottie had been storing them for.

“So, what’s the plan?” Cassian asked Ottie as he held out his half-eaten cookie for you to share. Ottie simply pointed to the large pile of games with a wicked grin on her face that had you both rolling your eyes, realising she expected you to play every single one.

*****

“You know,” Ottie started, as she slumped against Cassian’s chest from where she sat in his lap. “It would be a lot easier to play if there were more of us.”

“Hmm? How do you mean?” You absentmindedly asked, placing down your cards and smugly grinning across at Cassian and Ottie as you scored an extra 20 points, earning a groan in response.

“Well, just that if there were more of us, we wouldn’t always need to play two-against-one, or one-against-one-against-one.”

She had a point in that, the three of you had already circled through ‘boys against girls’, ‘wings against no wings’, ‘adults against kids’ multiple times throughout the afternoon.

“Maybe next time we have a games afternoon we can invite the others around?” you suggested, watching as Ottie placed down the cards Cassian silently handed her, completely missing the scrunched expression of frustration on Ottie’s face and the way Cassian had tensed up and remained silent throughout the whole conversation.

“Or,” Ottie stretched the word out causing you to look up in curiosity as you tried to catch Cassian’s eye who busily looked through his remaining cards in an attempt to avoid your gaze, “you could just have a baby.”

Cassian let out a sigh and it was now your turn to freeze in place as the words lingered in the space between. Sure, you had spoken about having kids together and you definitely wanted them with Cassian, but you didn’t feel ready yet. Joining their family had already been such a detour from the life you had imagined yourself living at this point in time, and while you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world, you still wanted the time to enjoy your life as it currently was.

You knew Cassian wanted another child and that he would jump at the chance as soon as you agreed, yet, despite feeling guilty as you noted his disappointment when you first told him not yet, the sense of relief that had washed over you when he quickly changed the conversation was telling enough in itself to prove that you weren’t ready yet.

Tuning back into the conversation as Ottie listed all the reasons why she thought she should have a baby brother or sister, your eyes landed on Cassian, finding him already looking back at you with a tentative expression. He didn’t seem shocked or caught off guard so Ottie must have already brought this up with him.

You opened your mouth, to say what you weren’t quite sure, but Cassian saved you from having to fumble for words as he abruptly clapped his hands together, “how about we start on dinner, that way, Ottie, you can have your surprise treat before bedtime.” At the mention of the words surprise and treat, all thoughts of a sibling appeared to immediately vanish as she scrambled out of Cassian’s lap and towards the blanket ford entrance.

“Nuh-uh, Ottie, you know the rules; if you make a blanket fort you need to pack it up, alright? You get to cleaning and Mum and I will start making dinner.”

The bubble of amusement at Ottie’s groan of annoyance as she stomped up the stairs, laden with pillows, was quick to pop once you realised you and Cassian were now alone. You turned towards him, already feeling his eyes on you, and were met with a soft and knowing expression.

“Cass…”

“Y/N, its fine.” His tone was comforting yet you couldn’t help but feel as though you were disappointing him.

“No, you know that it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…”

“Not yet, I know and its fine. We have Ottie and once you’re ready…once we’re ready, then we can talk about it.” He held out a hand which you took, letting him pull you up off the floor, a small smile gracing your lips when he didn’t pull his hand away and, instead, squeezed yours and soothingly rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand.

You let out another sigh, “Cass…” you tried again but were abruptly silenced as he pressed his lips against yours.

“Stop,” He pulled away but held your gaze, “I love you and we have all the time in the world. Even if you decide that just Ottie is enough, it won’t change anything between us, alright?”

Noting that the hesitant look on your face remained, he kissed you again, putting everything into it until he felt your tension ebb away. “Now enough of this, I don’t want to spend my last few hours here having you feeling like this. Come on, let’s start on dinner. Ottie won’t be happy if it gets too late and she misses out on her treat.” Cassian nipped at your ear, his own concern leaving him after hearing the small giggle you let out. Finally satisfied, he slung his arm over your shoulders and headed towards the kitchen.

“You know she won’t be going to bed while you’re still here, treat or not, she’s going to want to stay up until you need to leave.”

“Well, we can’t have that, she’ll be a nightmare for you tomorrow and then you’ll never want to have another one…” He let out a playful yelp as you smacked his stomach, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Besides, I want at least a few uninterrupted hours alone with you before I have to leave...”

Rolling your eyes you move to pull away, but Cassian was faster as he spun you back around to face him, leaning down to kiss your lips once more and then the tip of your nose before brushing the hair away from your face and giving you a lovesick smile that you couldn’t help but return.

*****

The three of you slumped against the plush, green couch, Cassian in the middle with you and Ottie tucked in either side of him as you finished off the final few crumbs of the slice of chocolate cake Ottie had wanted to share. The young Illyrian let out a loud yawn that she quickly tried to cover up, “that’s so weird, because I’m not even tired.” You raised your brows and shared a look with Cassian who was shaking his head, an amused smirk lighting up his face.

“Hey, Otts? I know it’s not your bedtime yet, but can you do me a favour?” Ottie sat up and gave her dad a suspicious look as she waited for him to continue. “I was hoping you would let me tuck you in early tonight and read you a few stories? I’m going to miss you while I’m away and I’m going to miss bedtimes so was hoping for one more before I have to go?”

Ottie looked back and forth between the two of you before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” With that, she slid off the couch and grabbed both yours and Cassian’s hands as she began walking towards the stairs and up to her room.

“Very smooth,” you murmured into Cassian’s ear, he just gave you a wink before leaning down to scoop Ottie up, causing her to let out a squeal as he bounded up the remaining steps.

*****

After taking in turns to read Ottie eight different books, she was now tucked into bed with the two of you lying either side of her, tightly gripping your hands as she began to slowly succumb to sleep. Cassian was still as he played with her hair, silently watching her and taking in every little movement and feature. You stayed just as still, just as silent, as you took in the scene before you, knowing that the minutes were ticking by too fast in the count down to Cassian leaving.

“I love you, Ottie.” Cassian whispered the words as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A sleepy smile spread over Ottie’s face, “I love you too, Dad.” Soon enough her breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room.

Looking past Ottie’s small frame, your eyes met Cassian’s and the tears you found there had the ones you had been fighting so hard to keep back finally escape down your cheeks. Cautiously, Cassian slowly moved, testing just how deeply Ottie was asleep before nodding his head towards the door. You both carefully got up, Cassian leaning back down to fuss over Ottie as he tucked her in further and brushed her hair away from her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Moving around the bed to stand beside Cassian, you put a hand on his back and rubbed soothing circles across it, waiting for him to make the move to leave.

“Alright,” Cassian whispered, taking your hand and leading you out of the room, “now I want to properly say goodbye to you.”

You had just managed to silently close Ottie’s bedroom door before letting out a yelp as Cassian suddenly picked you and threw you over his shoulder before determinedly walking towards your own bedroom door.

*****

“Stop,” you laughed, a half exasperated, half amused expression on your face, “you’re being ridiculous.”

Cassian just winked up at you from where he rested between your legs, “I’m just making sure you won’t forget about me while I’m away.” He looked back down, a devilish grin spreading as he admired his work, you just groaned as you finally saw the marks he worked so hard to leave already appearing across your hip bones, trailing further and further down.

Pulling himself back up your body, Cassian sprawled himself out over the top of you, trapping you beneath him as your legs intertwined once more, his face burrowed in the crook of your neck as you let your fingers run through his hair. You let the silence envelop you, knowing your time was up but neither of you wanting to acknowledge it.

After what felt like both seconds and years, Cassian shifted, now leaning on his elbows as he looked down at you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. You felt the sting behind your eyes return and knew you wouldn’t be able to speak, so instead you leant up to kiss him. “I have to go…” Cassian said, eventually pulling away just fair enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still shut tightly as he held you close.

“I know,” you murmured back, kissing him softly once more before you both reluctantly started to pull apart.

Throwing on the shirt Cassian had been wearing, you watched from where you sat on the edge of your bed as Cassian got dressed.

“Do you know where my –”

“In the corner of the wardrobe.” Knowing he was asking about the boots you had been reminding him to get out all week. Cassian gave you a sheepish look as he ducked into the dressing room, causing you to huff out a laugh as you laid back down and stared up at the ceiling.

“Oh!” Cassian’s voice echoed out to you, “look what I just found.”

You sat back up just in time to catch the small woollen jumper that Ottie would have worn at just a few months old.

“It’s so tiny,” you held the small item up as Cassian sat beside you, leaning down to tie up his laces, “where was this?”

“It must’ve fallen down the back, it was poking out from underneath the drawers. Can you believe she was ever this small?” Cassian sat back up and reached for the jumper, trailing the small cut out sections in the back that once would have fit her wings. A pang of guilt coursed through you at the look on Cassian’s face, knowing what he was thinking about. You weren’t sure if it was the heightened emotions brought on by such an overwhelming day or the images of Cassian holding a small baby that raced to the front of your mind that had you wanting to say something.

“About before, what Ottie brought up –”

“Y/N, we don’t need to do this now, it’s –”

“No, Cass, I was just going to say that maybe… maybe, once you get back, we should talk about it again. Properly this time. I was caught off guard when Ottie mentioned it but…” you trailed off, not quite sure where to go next.

Cassian released a breath, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you against his side and kissed your temple.

“When I’m back, we’ll talk.” You could tell he was trying to keep a neutral expression for your sake, but there was no missing the sparkle that ignited in his eyes and the way the corner of his lips twitched as though holding back a grin. “Fuck, Rhys is going to kill me. I’m going to be so late…”

Your heart dropped as Cassian stood, taking your hand to pull you up off the bed before guiding you to the door. He stopped outside of Ottie’s door, quietly opening it to peek inside and, seeing that she was still fast asleep, let out another shaky breath before whispering “I love you, Ottie” as he closed the door once more. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “we’re going to be fine, Cass. We’ll miss you, so much, but we will be fine.” Cassian just grimly nodded in response as you made your way down the stairs.

All you could do was stare at one another, your hands were grasped firmly in his calloused ones, as you stood by the front door.

“You’ve got to go,” you whispered, tears freely falling now as you realised this was the last time you would be seeing him for weeks or, Cauldron forbid, months.

A pained expression crossed his face as he softly wiped the tears away before leaning down to kiss you. You quickly moved again him, the two of you melding together before a soft cough that indicated another person’s presence had you pulling apart.

“I figured you would need a little longer to say goodbye. Thought I would winnow us both over, save you the hassle of flying and experiencing Rhys’ telling off for being late,” Azriel’s low voice broke through the silence as you both turned to face him.

“Hi, Az.” You said, voice shakier than you intended it to be. Cassian simply nodded at his brother as his hand tightly squeezed yours.

“Y/N.” He greeted back with a smile that did nothing to hide the sombre expression that had been becoming a more permanent fix as the going-ons of the Continent continued to surface.

Cassian turned back to you; brows pinched as his eyes scanned your face. You offered him a small smile, not knowing how to make the goodbye any easier.

“I love you,” he said, repeating the words over and over again in a whisper between the hurried kisses he gave you.

“I love you.” No other words were needed as Cassian grimly nodded, leaning down to kiss you once more before taking a step towards where Azriel stood.

“Stay safe,” you called out, doing your best to stop yourself from racing after him, “both of you.”

Cassian’s turned back to face you as soon as he was beside Azriel, every emotion conveyed in a single look.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Azriel replied in an attempt to lighten the weight of what they were about to head into and the significance in the changes that could come about over the following weeks.

*****

Five weeks and three days later

You and Ottie had just gotten home after spending the evening with Elain and Nyx, who she was looking after whilst Feyre and Rhys were in the Dawn Court.

“Mum?” Ottie asked as you slid into bed beside her, “Can I please have two stories tonight?”

“Two? Otts, you look like you could barely stay awake for one. Are you sure? You’ve had a pretty big day.” You had gone into work, so Ottie had spent the day with her friend, Ciela, and, after picking her up, the two of you had then headed straight to the River House.

“Please…”

“Okay, fine. What do you want tonight?”

Whilst you read aloud, Ottie had snuggled up against you, but you could tell by her fidgeting that she was far from sleep.

“…the end.” You finished, placing the book on the bedside table and looking down at your daughter who was staring vacantly at the ceiling, only moving once you had settled back beside her so that she could hold onto you once more.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Yep.” But the deflation in her voice didn’t ebb your concern. Instead of pushing her to answer, you wrapped your arms around her and stroked her hair, hoping to offer some form of comfort as she muddled over her thoughts.

You had almost thought she had drifted to sleep and had begun to doze off yourself when Ottie suddenly sat up and looked at you with a determined expression.

“Mum?” You sat up as well, giving her a soft smile to encourage her to continue. “You know how before Dad left, I said I wanted a baby brother or sister? Well, I’ve changed my mind, I like that it’s just the three of us. Maybe we can get a dog? Dad’s always saying he wants a dog and that it would be really fun. And then the dog can keep you company when we’re flying and you’re on the ground, and it will also be able to…”

Ottie continued to list all the reasons why you should get a dog, yet you were waiting for her to drop the reason for her sudden change of heart in regard to a sibling. In Cassian’s absence, your mind had run amuck with imaged scenarios and that promised conversation you were to have upon his return.

“Well,” you interrupted Ottie’s rambles, noting the way she almost frantically avoided eye contact. “We can definitely talk about getting a dog once Dad is back. But how come you no longer want a little brother or sister?”

“I just don’t…” her voice was muffled as she slumped back against the pillows, pulling the blankets over her head.

Letting out a sigh, you racked your brain for what could’ve caused the sudden change but came up blank. Just this morning she had been telling you that if she had a sibling she wouldn’t need to have gone to Ciela’s because she would have someone at home to play with – completely missing the fact that it was the child caring factor that was the concern at hand. With Ottie yet to lift the blankets away from her face, you tried for another tactic and laid back down beside her, pulling the other half of the blanket over your own head.

“Does Ciela have any siblings?”

“Yes, three”

“What are they like?” You asked, maybe it had something to do with one of them picking on the girls…

“They’re alright,” Ottie shifted closer to you, and you were quick to pull her into a hug that she immediately melted into. “One of them is too little to play, the other one was at the big kids’ school today, and the other one is a grown up.”

“Did you tell Ciela you wanted to be a big sister?”

“Yes…” her voice trailed off into a whisper and she took in a shaky breath, burring her face tighter against you.

“Oh? What did she have to say about that?”

“Nothing really…,” Ottie squirmed a bit before continuing, “but she said she had heard her mum talking about you and daddy to Niamh’s mum.” You let out a sigh, knowing you were close and not liking where this could be heading. You knew people talked about you and Cassian and the cliché of you being his nanny before getting together, you only hoped they had the common decency not to bring a four-year-old into the mix.

“Did Ciela tell you what they said?”

There was a beat of silence before her quiet “…yes.”

You could only just make out Ottie’s response before she was sniffling and curling in on herself. Pulling the blankets away you scooped Ottie into your arms and held her tightly against you, one hand rubbing up and down her back while the other soothed her hair as she quietly sobbed into the crook of your neck.

“Sweetheart,” you started after a few moments, pressing a kiss to the top of her head once her sobbing turned into quiet sniffles. “I need you to tell me what happened, please? Otherwise I won’t know what to do to fix this and make you feel better.”

“They said… They said that when you and daddy have a baby,” her shaky intake of breath had your heart breaking even further at the inner turmoil she must have been hiding from you all afternoon. “That you will send me away to live in the Autumn Court because… because I’m not…”

You pulled back to look her in the eye, blood thrumming in your ears as you waited with bated breath for her to finish saying those dreaded few words, doing your best to quell your anger and focus on the girl in front of you.

“Because you’re not what, Ottie?”

“Because I’m not your real daughter. And when you have your own baby, you won’t want me anymore.”

The few beats in which Ottie’s eyes welled with tears as she hid her face against you gave you all but a moment to compose yourself and decide how you wanted to navigate the situation.

“Well,” you started, keeping your tone light, “that is just the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and you’ve heard some of the things your dad says...” Ottie pulled back and looked up at you with wide eyes, lower lip still trembling as she processed your words. “Of course you’re my daughter, I mean, sure I didn’t give birth to you, but that’s hardly the point. Ottie, I have been in your life since before you could crawl, besides, how else would I know how to make your favourite meal, or how to do your hair just the way you like, or the fact that you only like chocolate brownies if half the chocolate is melted and the other half is in chunks, it if I wasn’t your mum?”

You let out a sigh of relief as Ottie wiped away the few remaining tears, a small tug of a smile beginning to appear. “And why would we ever send you away to the Autumn Court? That’s just silly, your home is here, with us. The only time we would ever send you away is if you got to, like, 187 and still lived at home with us, although even then we might still keep you here, we just love you that much.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You are my whole world, Ottie. Everything changed for the better when you and your dad came into my life, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. And if we do have another child, we’re going to need you around to help us out and to teach them how to be just as amazing as you are.”

“I love you, mummy.” You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and then to her cheeks.

“I love you so, so much, sweetheart.”

You blinked away your tears as Ottie wrapped her arms around you, holding her tightly until she was ready to pull away.

“So, do you think you’re up for the job of being a big sister?” You asked, tickling Ottie’s sides and relishing in the sound of her melodic giggles.

“Yeah, I think so,” Ottie looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing, “please can it be a girl? I don’t want another boy here, daddy is enough.”

You let out a laugh, “I agree, leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wow, I’ve been gone all of five weeks and the two of you have already kicked me out of my bed and decided that it’s a girls-only house. Maybe I should leave and stay with Uncle Rhys and Auntie Feyre, at least Nyx appreciates me.”

Your heart froze at the sudden voice, not having heard anyone approach, and then it completely melted at the sight of Cassian before you.

Ottie froze from where she was beginning to settle herself back against the pillow, looking between you and Cassian with wide eyes and a stunned expression that slowly broke into a look of pure joy.

“Daddy!” She all but jumped across the bed and launched herself towards where Cassian had been leaning against the doorframe, her small wings carrying her the rest of the distance. Cassian was quick to catch her in a tight embrace, spinning her around and around as he peppered kisses all over her face, sending her into a fit of giggles and happy squeals.

Completely caught off guard and feeling overwhelmed at the heartwarming reunion before you, you slowly pulled yourself out of bed and took a few steps towards the pair, grinning as you caught Cassian’s eye from over Ottie’s shoulder.

“Well,” Cassian started as he set Ottie back down on the ground and knelt down to her level, “now that I’m home, I think you should go back to your room–”

“But dad–”

“–to get your own pillow then come right back. What? The least you can do is give me back my pillow seeing that you’ve taken over my side of the bed.”

Ottie grinned at him then jumped forward to give him another tight hug before racing out of the room. With a soft chuckle, Cassian watched her leave before stiffly getting to his feet and turning to face you, the exhaustion so clearly evident you marvelled at how he had managed to hide it so well in those first few moments.

“Hey, you.” Your voice was quiet and came out hoarser than you would have liked but Cassian simply let out an incoherent noise as he stepped closer, all but falling against you as he pulled you into the warmth and comfort of his arms that you had so sorely missed.

“You,” he mumbled into your hair, “are the most amazing and incredible female to ever live. Let me know if I ever stop telling you that, yeah?”

“Cass…?”

“Hi, sorry, I’ve just missed you, so much. And I’m–”

“Exhausted?” you offered, taking in the dark circles under his eyes as you grasped his hand and led him to the side of the bed.

“That too. But I was going to say that just I’m so in love with you that these past few weeks have been absolute torture.”

“I love you too.” You laughed at his jumbled words, shaking your head as you took in his face before pushing the stray pieces of hair away from his eyes, your heart stuttered at the way Cassian moved into your touch.

“Y/N…,” he stared at you for a beat before his own hand came up to cup your face, gently pulling you closer in such a way that had your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flickered shut in anticipation of finally, finally having his lips on yours again.

“Gods, I’ve missed you.” Cassian murmured against you as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer so that he could deepen the kiss. You responded just as enthusiastically, hands landing on the base of his neck as your fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a small moan that had you grinning.

“Hi,” you whispered as you pulled away.

“Hi,” Cassian’s voice was just as soft as his eyes skittered across your face, leaning in once more until the patter of footsteps had him pulling away.

“I’m in the middle!” Ottie announced as she reappeared in the doorway, bounding over to the bed and making space for her pillow before looking at you both expectantly.

You watched Cassian with a worried expression as he turned to look at Ottie in bemusement. There hadn’t been much news from anyone regarding what had been happening, likely for security reasons, just the occasional hurried notes from Rhys and Feyre checking in and letting you and Elain know that everyone was okay and would hopefully be home soon.

“Do you want some food or a shower or anything…?”

Cassian pressed a kiss to your cheek, before trailing his fingers down your face, eyes lighting up just at the sight of you before him. “If I smell that bad, I’ll go and shower, but right now I just want to be with my girls.”

Shaking your head, you pushed Cassian towards the dressing room, “at least get changed before getting into bed, you’re still in your leathers.”

“I thought you liked me in my leathers.” He called back, making you roll your eyes as you climbed back into bed beside Ottie.

“You were right,” she mused with a thoughtful nod of her head, “Daddy does say some silly things.”

*****

After filling Cassian in on every little detail he had missed, Ottie was quick to fall asleep, complete exhaustion from her activity-filled and emotional roller coaster of a day knocking her out as soon as the initial shock and excitement of Cassian’s return ebbed away.

Once Ottie’s soft snoring filled the room, Cassian gave you a look before silently scooping her up and carrying her to her own bedroom. You knew she would be mad about the fact that she had been moved when she woke up in the morning but after a month of not seeing Cassian, you were more than happy to deal with the consequences of that later on.

“Is she alright?” Cassian asked after closing your bedroom door and sliding back into bed, immediately wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Yeah, she’s alright. How much did you hear?” You let your fingers trail through his hair, a month’s worth of stress and tension easing away simply by having Cassian beside you again.

“Enough,” the darkening of his voice told you that he knew exactly what had happened. “Ciela’s mum?”

“And Niamh’s.” You added, tone bitter as images of Ottie’s distraught face returned to the front of your mind.

“For fucks sake… can’t they just mind their own business.”

“She’s alright.” You reassured, knowing there would be plenty of time to get into it over your daughter’s friends’ mums, but not wanting to waste the time you currently had together doing so.

“I know…” he trailed off, letting out a sigh before pressing small kisses along your neck.

“Are you alright though? What’s happening on the Continent, will it –” Cassian cut you off with a kiss that you immediately returned.

“I’m fine. And that will all be fine. Tomorrow, alright? I’ll tell you everything but right now I just…” he trailed off and looked down at you, a soft yet longing smile on his face that you returned before tangling your fingers in his hair once more and pulling him closer.

*****

For someone who appeared to be completely exhausted, Cassian still had plenty of energy when it came to you in those few hours that followed his return home. You knew you would both feel the brunt of getting next to no sleep once the sun had fully risen, but as you lay in the calm silence of your candle-lit bathroom, your back against Cassian’s chest, both of you submerged in the warmth of the lavender-scented bathwater, you couldn’t find yourself caring.

Cassian had begged you to fill him in on every single detail of every day that he had been away for, no matter how boring and uneventful it seemed, he wanted to hear it all. He also managed to easily skirt away from any questions you directed at him regarding his time away and what had happened in the Dawn Court and on the Continent. Knowing he needed time to decompress, you playfully flicked water at him in response before jumping into a recount of Ottie trying to outfly Nyx and winning.

When you felt Cassian’s breathing begin to even out, the strokes of his fingers through your hair growing lazier and slower, you finally made a move to get to bed.

“Cass?” All you got was a grunt in return as Cassian pulled you back into the water and nestled his face against your bare back. “My love, you are exhausted and need to sleep. Come on, bed time.”

Reluctantly, Cassian let you help him out of the bath, his exhaustion clearly taking over as he slumped against the bathroom counter, eyes shut as you wrapped the large towel around him. Once you were both dry, you took Cassian’s hands and led him back into your bedroom, helping him onto the edge of the bed before pulling out some loose-fitting sleepwear for him to change into. As he collapsed against the pillows, you were surprised you didn’t hear the immediate onset of his snores, instead finding him watching you get ready for bed, a sleepy yet adoring expression flickering across his face.

You were about to climb in beside him when the sudden appearance of a small, folded sheet of paper caught your eye:

Please tell me he got back in one piece? We were all planning on coming home tomorrow but Az said he insisted on flying straight home as soon as the final meeting finished up.

- Rhys

“Cass, why do I have a note from Rhys saying you flew all the way home instead of waiting just one more night to winnow back with the others?

“Shh,” Cassian murmured as he reached for you and pulled you against him, “wanted to see my girls. I missed you.” The words were muffled against your skin, heavy breathing quick to follow.

The soft thud of a pen landing on your bedside table where the note had appeared only moments before had you rolling your eyes.

Yes, he made it home, missed telling me the part where he flew hours across Prythian without taking a break... No wonder he’s so exhausted, head hit the pillow less than a minute ago and he’s already snoring! See you all soon

- Y/N x

Mere seconds passed before another sheet of paper appeared on your bedside table.

Clearly not that exhausted if he’s only just asleep, he would’ve made it home hours ago according to when Az said he left ;)

- Rhys

You scoffed and scrunched the piece of paper up, not deigning to reply to your High Lord’s cheek, before settling back against your pillow. Cassian immediately reached for you, pulling you tight against him, even whilst being fast asleep. You let yourself relax against him, quickly finding sleep now that Cassian was back home and where he was meant to be.

*****

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[the-wrong-providence]

To Date a Criminal

Bucky Barnes X Celebrity!F!Reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: Angst | Talk of ending relationships | Asshole Interviewers | Language | Brief mentions of sexism | Fluff? 

Summary: Bucky’s history is a problem to some of Y/N’s fans

Author’s note: This is more angsty than I originally intended, but life is a shitty mess so there’s no point sugar coating it lmao. Unedited. Didn’t know what to call it, so this is what I landed with.

"A-list celebrity Y/N Y/L/N is speculated to be romantically involved with ex-assassin James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. A lot of people believe that Barnes should be convicted of the numerous murders that he committed over the course of the Cold War, but Y/L/N seems to have no issue flaunting her criminal boyfriend on every platform she has a voice. The 108-year-old man was once a close friend to Capt-" Sam turned the TV off. Bucky stared at the blank screen for a little longer, before swallowing heavily and looking down. Sam wanted to say something but struggled to find the words.

Bucky sighed. "This is fucked," he said after a moment. He appeared to be fairly calm about it, before he slammed his fist down on the table, leaving a small dent in the wood. "What the fuck?" He shouted out, as Sam crossed his arms.

"Buck, you know better than to listen to that shit," he said. Bucky turned to him, shaking his head.

"It's not about me listening to them." He started. "Y/N is being attacked. Even if she doesn't agree, her entire reputation is at stake, for dating me. They're calling me a murderer for fucks sake." Bucky ran his hand through his hair. Sam sighed. Of course, he didn't care what people thought about him. He'd been receiving death threats and insults daily since returning from Wakanda, he was used to it. "She has every reason to leave me. She'd be an idiot not to." He mumbled, turning away from Sam.

Sam sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. But something he’d come to realise is that both Bucky and Y/N were complete dumbasses when together. “Just, talk to her, man,” He replied, leaving Bucky to stew by himself.

*

He sipped his drink slowly, hearing the door slam close and a loud sigh. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to deal with today,” She said, throwing her coat onto the back of a dining chair. She bent over the sofa and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “The guy who was interviewing us made some sexist comments before we even began, so we just knew it was going to be a long session,” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa beside him. “It was really tempting to just walk out on multiple occasions, but apparently I needed a better reason,” 

Bucky grinned quickly, before placing his glass on the coffee table. "Baby, we need to talk," He began. Y/N looked at him and her eyes narrowed in confusion. She couldn’t read his expression at all. Her face fell when she realised that his smile had disappeared. 

"What about?" She asked cautiously. Her heart sped up.

Bucky took a deep breath. "You need to break up with me," he said. 

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. Everything was going well. She really liked Bucky and she thought he felt the same for her. "I don't understand. I don't want to." She said.

"And I don't want to either. But people are calling me a murderer." Bucky looked at her finally, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. She let out a deep exhale, relieved that she’d not done anything to upset him.

It took her a moment to think her way around his comment. "But you're not a murderer, and I don’t care what people say," She replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Bucky smiled softly. Y/N was brazen, just one of the many things he liked about her. “Sweetheart,” He started, “I’m not worth ending your career over,”

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. Whilst she held the belief that he very much was worth it, she didn’t want to admit that now. Not if things were going to end. “Do you want this to end?” She asked. He was fairly insistent.

Bucky seemed taken aback. “No, god no, you have no idea how much I don’t want this to happen. But you have to do the smart thing here. You can’t stay with me,”

“I don’t care. I’m not ending this.” She said indignantly.

Bucky rubbed his forehead. Fuck, he loved her stubbornness sometimes, but it was not helping right now. “Your reputation-”

“I’m not worried about my stupid reputation! I couldn’t give less of a shit about it!” She shouted back and Bucky stared at her. She exhaled heavily and furrowed her eyebrows. “The only thing I’m worried about is you, Buck,”

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned away. “Well, that’s really not convenient. Because I worry about you and the way people treat you and the way everyone sees you. And you not giving a shit about that sort of thing really makes my job a lot harder,” He replied, and Y/N smiled. 

She pulled his face back in her direction, and her hand fell to rest on his chest. Pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’d leave everything behind to stop you from worrying,” She admitted and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You’re crazy if you think I’d let you,” He raised his eyebrows, but grinned, all the same, leaning in to kiss her again.

She pouted at him. “I’m starting to think that you want me to be famous more than I care for it,” She joked.

“Not famous. Successful. I want you to do well, and I like seeing you get the recognition you deserve. I need people to love you as much as I… love you,” He paused at the last words, and looked down, hoping she didn’t notice.

But of course, she did. She’d been waiting to hear those words for weeks now. She stared at him, noticing the slight pink tinge that was creeping up his neck. “Buck,” She began. “I love you too,”

He looked up at her, searching for any hint of a lie. It had been a while since someone had said those words to him and meant it. As if she could tell, she took hold of his wrist and directed his hand to feel her heartbeat. “I love you,” She said again, smiling at him. 

“And if you still think we should break up, then you’re the crazy one. Especially after that super romantic admission of your love for me,” she stated, grinning at him as his cheeks tinged pink. He looked down, but his small smile was very much evident.

He sighed. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it,” He said back, as Y/N giggled. She kissed him again, and Bucky’s hand moved to hold her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I love you,” He murmured in the space between them, their foreheads resting against each other.

*

One of the downsides of being a celebrity was having to maintain a social presence. As a result, Y/N had to attend several red carpets that she had no real investment in. This particular time, Y/N was being interviewed by someone from some media outlet that she was unfamiliar with. The questions had strayed from anything remotely related to the public perception of her boyfriend.

“Bucky is not a murderer,” Y/N scowled at the person interviewing her. Her dating life was noones business at the best of times, but it was entirely inappropriate to discuss this right now.

The interviewer smirked at the rise they were getting. “He was one of the worlds most wanted criminals. He’s credited with at least two dozen high-target assassinations. He’s responsible for the Avengers breaking up back in 2016…”

Y/N stared daggers at the interviewer, and their face fell as they noticed. They stopped talking and swallowed heavily. “Bucky is not a murderer. He was given a pardon which has forgiven him-”

“Implying that there was something to forgive.” The interviewer interrupted “Why do you think it’s ok to date a war criminal?” They added.

Y/N lips parted in surprise. “You know what? I don’t have to deal with this. If people have a problem with who I love then that’s their issue. I do not have to listen to you insult my partner.” She snapped back, before storming off to the bathroom.

On her way there, a hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her away. Looking up, she saw Bucky beaming at her. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” He held his arms around her waist. His face fell when he saw her look in her eyes. “What’s happened? Are you ok?” his first instinct was to check her over for any injuries.

Instantly she let her tears fall and leant against him. “Why do people have to be assholes?” She bawled out. Bucky hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He held her tight, letting her cry into his chest.

“What did they say?” He growled, angry that anyone would have the gall to insult his girl. He looked around to determine whos fault it was. If anyone seemed even remotely guilty for the upset that they’d caused, but everyone seemed fairly content with themselves.

She sniffed quietly. “They were being so rude about you! I had to leave the interview,” She replied, and Bucky seemed taken aback. They’d insulted him and she was distraught.

He held her at arms length and looked at her, lowering his head so that she was staring directly into his eyes. “There are always gonna be assholes in the world, but you walking away from them in that situation helps people realise. You are so incredibly brave for walking outside your door every day when you know what people have said about me. And for that I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I’m honored to have a place in your heart.” He said sincerely, desperate to calm her down.

“But you have to promise me that you will not give these people a place. Please don’t let them hurt you. Don’t take these shots that are meant for me,” He added, caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, but seemed to smile. “Buck, I would take actual bullets for you,” She said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Bucky chuckled. “Very unwise. Bullets hurt like hell. And you’d be taking a lot of them,” He bantered back. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I love you sweetheart,” He smiled.

Y/N exhaled heavily, smiling back. “I love you too,” she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do you wanna come with me?”

He looked at her, confused as to what she meant. “Back onto the carpet? What about the interviews?”

She grinned. “Maybe you can do some staring if they piss me off.” She giggled.

Immediately he seemed excited. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me!”

[omgrachwrites]

Wicked Game - Chapter One

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Weasley!Reader

Summary: When you realise just how bad your parents financial situation is you make a deal with your fathers boss.

Warnings: muggle au, fluff, angst, swearing

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this! The other chapters are going to be longer and this is going to be a relatively slow burn. Please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

Chapter One

You knew that your parents were struggling financially, you had always known, especially when you were at school. They had managed to send all eight of you to an exclusive boarding school so you never minded that your things were second-hand, you thought they added more charm. Now, that you were out of school, it seemed as though your parents were struggling even more, your dad’s boss, Mr Riddle had cut his hours right down.

Arthur and Molly were too proud to ask for help – despite having an array of friends who would drop everything to help – and they had denied your help more than once. You really didn’t want to see your family out on the street so you decided to take drastic measures.

“I’m heading to London today,” you told your mum as you sat down for breakfast on a warm summer’s morning.

Before she could reply, your twin brother spoke up, “Why, what’s in London? I thought you weren’t at the shop today.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ron, just because your nose is enormous doesn’t mean you should be poking it in other people’s business,” you flicked his nose causing him to bat your hand away and he scowled at you, the tips of his ears turning red.

After a quick breakfast, you were out the door and on the way to London, despite being pretty far out in the countryside you only needed one train to get there. The journey seemed to go by so quickly and soon enough you were walking into the lobby of the high rise building. It was so quiet and clean that it seemed clinical. The receptionist looked at you with wide eyes when you told her who you were there to see but you weren’t waiting long until she led you into Mr Riddle’s office.

As you walked in, trying to stop your hands from shaking, the older man looked up at you and took in your appearance, “you’re Arthur Weasley’s daughter,” it wasn’t a question as he gestured for you to sit down.

You nodded as you cleared your throat and sat down, “y-yes, Sir.”

“And what does Arthur Weasley’s daughter want with me?” he asked as he went back to signing the papers on his desk.

“My parents need help,” Mr Riddle glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow and you elaborated, “financial help.”

“Ah,” he had a ghost of a smirk on his face as he dropped his pen on top of his papers and leaned back in his leather wing backed chair, “if your parents hadn’t of had an army of children maybe they’d be in a much more comfortable position.”

It was amazing how quickly your fear turned to anger and you couldn’t stop the next words that fell from your lips, “well maybe if you gave my dad reasonable hours then I wouldn’t be here,” you folded your arms and narrowed your eyes.

Riddle blinked at you before letting out a harsh laugh that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, “my dear, all working hours have been cut since the war ended.”

“Still, there must be something I can do, please I’ll do anything,” you didn’t mean to beg but you were getting desperate now. Why wouldn’t he help you? A man in his position of power was exactly the sort of man who would help you, but he wouldn’t, not for nothing in return.

“You would do anything to save your family from ruin?” when you nodded he smirked and buzzed for the receptionist, “Bella find my son and send him in.”

Moments later, Mattheo Riddle came striding into the room like he owned it, he was even more handsome than he had been in school with the same sullen look on his face. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw you standing in his father’s office but he nodded at you all the same.

“Y/N.”

“Hi, Mattheo.”

“You see, Y/N,” Riddle started “I have been trying to make a marriage for my son and at every turn he has rejected several extraordinary women,” Mattheo flushed and his eyes dropped to the floor at his father’s words, “you see, it’s very difficult for those fools to take me seriously at the Ministry without a marriage. You say you would do anything to save your family? Marry my son.”

Matteo’s eyes widened, “father,” he started but fell silent as Riddle gave him a hard look.

Riddle looked back at you, “accept and your family will want for nothing. Refuse, and I will make their life a living hell.”

This was the last thing you expected – or wanted – your heart was in your throat but you had started all of this and now you had to see it through. Briefly, you wondered why he would ask you, given Riddle’s opinion of your family. But you realised it was to keep you in line, you weren’t an idiot. You glanced at Mattheo who refused to look at you and you turned back to Riddle.

“When you put it that way, how can I refuse? Of course, you leave me no choice but to accept.”

Riddle smirked, “excellent, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Mattheo, please show our guest out.

The younger Riddle glared at you as he gripped your elbow and steered you out of the room, “what the fuck, Y/N? Why would you do that?!” he hissed.

You managed to shake him off by the time you got to reception, “you heard your dad, I didn’t have a choice!” you conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell him that it was you who had sought Riddle out.

“You’re going to regret this,” there was a fire blazing in his usually cold brown eyes.

“Trust me, I already do,” you scowled.

As you got home, you had a guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach so you decided to shut yourself in your room. Your parents were going to be so disappointed. You were shut in your room all day, even when Hermione came to visit. You didn’t see anyone till later that evening when your dad barged in.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

“Mattheo Riddle.”

Your heart sank like a rock as you looked at your dad’s disappointed face, “what do you want to know?”

“You’re not marrying him, Y/N.”

“I already accepted.”

“Well unaccept!”

“I can’t!” you sighed, “you guys needed help, I never meant for it to get this far but it’s done. If I refuse he will make our lives hell, you know he will. All I wanted was to help,” but you feared you had made things worse.

“We never wanted this for you, Y/N,” Arthur sighed as he awkwardly lingered in the doorway.

“Look dad, I know and I’m sorry. I’ll try and get out of it somehow.”

Arthur nodded with a sigh as he left the room, knowing the conversation was over and knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to change your mind.

A couple of minutes later, you decided that you needed some air, you all but crept by the living room where Riddle was having a hushed conversation with your parents. As you headed towards the back door, Harry called after you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You groaned and turned to face him, knowing that he’d have something to say, he always did, “Harry, please. I really don’t need a lecture off you, of all people.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Harry laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defence, “I’m not going to lecture you. It was brave what you did, stupid,” he added “but brave.”

You laughed, “I agree with the stupid part, but thanks Harry,” you grinned.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be a Riddle though,” he said with a look of distaste on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a real tragedy,” you laughed, “see you, Harry,” you shot him a wave as you headed outside into the warm summer air.

The air smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and lemon and you gazed around the wild garden, feeling sadness linger in the pit of your stomach. You spotted Mattheo sitting on the garden wall, smoking a cigarette. With a sigh, you walked over to him and sat next to him as he nodded at you.

“It’s nice out here,” he nodded at the strings of fairy lights that had been weaved through the flowering bushes, “you caused quite a stir it seems,” he mumbled as he blew out a plume of smoke, being careful to not let it get in your face.

“Well, it was getting boring around here, so I thought I’d spice it up,” you laugh as Mattheo’s lips almost quirked up into a smirk, “so,” you started, “what’s your reason for agreeing to marry me? What’s in it for you?”

He scoffed as he looked at you with brown eyes so unlike his dad’s cold blue ones, “my father says jump, I ask how high.”

“Oh,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t imagine having that sort of relationship with your family, “I’m sorry,” you hadn’t just ruined your life, you’d ruined his too.

Mattheo pulled a face, “don’t be silly, you don’t have to apologise for anything. Look, Y/N, despite what the papers say about me, I’m not a monster. I’ll treat you how you deserve to be treated but, Y/N, I’m never going to love you. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Personally, you thought love was overrated, people did stupid things when they were in love, “well, I’m never going to love you either.”

“Perfect,” he nodded, flicking the stub of his cigarette away.

“So, when do you take me away from my family?” you joke.

“Not until the wedding, my dad wanted you to move in straight away but I convinced him there was no need.”

“Thank you.”

The handsome boy looked at you in bewilderment, like he didn’t know why you would thank him, “don’t look for any redeeming qualities in me, Y/N. I have none.”

Before you could reply, Riddle was striding across the garden, “we’re leaving, Mattheo.”

“I guess I’ll see you soon,” the boy nodded at you before disappearing up the country lane.

With a sigh, you headed back inside the house to find everyone sitting around the table. As you walked in they all stared at you as you sat down. Sirius looked impressed while Lily looked like she felt sorry for you. You knew that someone was dying to say something.

“Just don’t,” you said, shaking your head as you reached for your glass of juice.

It was silent for a couple of moments before Ginny spoke up, “hey, at least he’s hot,” everyone let out a nervous laugh and fell into an uneasy conversation as they waited for dinner.

[a-firsthand-murder-ballad]

AFHMB is a dark fantasy, colonial era WIP IF with some historical inspiration and intended for a ~16+ audience. It is hosted on Itch.io, made with Twine, and will be free start-to-finish. Demo here.

Warnings for general death, very briefly mentioned infant death, war, and disease, amongst others.

The war’s victory was not a joyous affair. There was no celebration when the encroaching forces were routed from the land. No drinking. No parties. No cheering or tearful greetings from spouses who had not seen one another in nearly a decade.

The silence was unmistakable. Loud. Overwhelming.

There was no joy to be found in it.

The removal of enemy soldiers from Herritus was instead met by one of the bleakest seasons to have ever settled over the country’s south. Crops and livestock died of the cold, infants were unable to be roused from their frigid sleep, and chromatia returned from its grave with wretched determination.

The streets are deserted- not a soul travels the worn roads. The homeless freeze to death and community shelters across the nation are wrung dry. Not even a noble such as yourself is safe from the cold’s grip.

It seeps in through the cracked windows, through the gaps under the doors. Your fire cannot douse it. No matter how many lanterns you light, the shudders will not be dispelled. You don a dozen layers; it finds a way through each.

When you are diagnosed with the grey ruin and made to realise you may have only a few months left to live, you must take it upon yourself to remove any remaining loose ends- before the sickness takes you.

And yet...something is wrong in the town of Nērisk. Something impossible is happening. And someway, somehow, it all ties back in to your brother’s murder twenty years prior.

Reminder that everything here is subject to change. It is a WIP for a reason.

- Customize your MC, including their gender (with options for women, men, and nonbinary MCs, plus enby men and women) and pronouns (supports multiple sets and custom input), appearance, and skills.

- MC’s personality is semi-set.  You can shift the way they develop and how they react to some situations, but some facets of themself will always be set.

- Optionally romance any of 9 options, with 10 poly routes available, including one quad (four person) option.

- Discover that not everything in Nērisk is as it seems, and that you cannot put your past behind you quite so easily...

- You are not the hero of this story. Rediscover old friends, and with them, old vices you thought you’d overcome.

Florain Vettikar [M/F]: An individual from your past you held dear (ex-best friend or ex-lover), taken from you too soon as karmic retribution. They’re long dead...but that doesn’t mean they’re gone.

Aviri von Jhersten [NB]: Someone you knew long ago. Their hands and yours are stained with the same blood, yet they were the one to claim guilt for the fresh grave. Now, they return, with new money and old vendettas.

Cillian Rittaker [M/NB/F]: You had seen Cillian once in passing as a child, a poor orphan your mother had shooed you away from. Nowadays, ze’s a powerful healer...and Nērisk’s final bastion against the chromatia.

Liel Amorson [M/F]: A childhood friend. You haven’t seen them in the decades since their family was forced to flee Nērisk, but now they return. You’d think they hadn’t changed at all if not for the emptiness in their eyes.

Acrocantus vel Yurius [M]: A son of the king of a distant country, who ran to Nērisk to escape his father and his homeland. He’s completely out of his depth...and is paying you to let him stay in your manor.

Ueryphus el Lirisis [NB]: Vel Yurius’ personal guard. They don’t trust you, and maybe they’re right not to. Still, they manage being unhappily polite, if only due to your extended grace when it comes to housing them.

Niphiles Ivares [F]: A wanderer, constantly coming and going. You’ve seen her around a few times, maybe even had a chat or two. Now, though, she’s trapped here in Nērisk, and growing increasingly paranoid…

Micah Kirrest [NB]: An annoyingly kind and persistent barkeep- and perhaps the only person you can call friend. Recently, you’d been separated, and now ey refuse to leave your side...no matter the circumstances.

Allifair ve Ketimnar [M/F]: As a child, they were forced to train under the same church authority you were, and now, they’re a priest with that same church. They hide their guilt well with jokes and snark. Too well.

[Poly routes are Florain/Aviri, Florain/Liel, Florain/Micah, Aviri/Micah, Cillian/Niphiles, Cillian/Aviri, Cillian/Allifair, Liel/Micah, and Acrocantus/Ueryphus.]

[The four-person poly route is Florain/Liel/Micah.]

Demo

Tag Directory [TBA]

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

masterlist is here <3

10. What I'm Doing

“You’re back!” Stella exclaimed when she saw John heading over to her. Her relief was clear in her voice, too strong for her to even attempt to hide it. The big mission the Americans had been sent out on had come with heavy losses; for the last few days all of the ATA pilots had been ferrying in as many B-17s as were available. At some point Stella had stopped trying to guess whether the Americans she cared about would be coming back. There was no way of knowing.

That didn’t mean she stopped worrying.

John was too big a character to ever not return, anyway, she’d reasoned with herself. The world would be instantly darker if he wasn’t in it. She would have known if he’d gone down.

And, it seemed, she was right, because here he was, ambling over to her, some approximation of a smile on his face, albeit a strained one. He had something red in his hand, though from this distance Stella couldn’t make out what it was, and he’d clearly been back for a little while - at least long enough to shower and change into his dress uniform.

Pushing up off of the wall to the ATA hut where she’d been waiting for her flight engineer yet again, Stella started to approach him, meeting him halfway. As she neared she realised his smile was less strained than purely grim, like he had bad news he was dreading giving her. But he seemed fine - there hardly appeared to be a scratch on him - so she couldn’t think of what it would be.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she came to a stop before him.

“Stels, I -” John faltered, shaking his head slightly as he looked down at her. He seemed to change his mind about whatever he was about to say, because instead he held up the red object he was carrying, which Stella could now see was a fez. “No postcards in Algeria - not where we were, anyway - but I brought you back this. Thought it’d suit you.” He held it out to her, a tiny smile on his lips.

Stella’s eyes flicked between John’s face and the fez in his hand. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself. She’d only been joking about the postcard and thought he had been, too, but he’d remembered. More than that, he’d brought her back a substitute, a souvenir from a mission which had surely caused him no small amount of distress.

He’d thought about her while he was over there. While he was away. He’d had no reason to do that but he’d done it anyway.

Slowly, Stella started to smile. “This is for me?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” John replied, reaching for her hand so he could put the fez directly in it. “I felt bad that I couldn’t bring you back your postcard, but they had plenty of these.”

“Was Algeria everything you were hoping for?” Stella asked, desperate to change the topic of conversation before her cheeks got so hot they burst into flame. She was turning the fez over in her hands, running her fingers over the felt on its exterior. “Cold beer and warm weather?”

“It, uh -” Again, John faltered. He stared intently at her face, searched her eyes for something Stella couldn’t begin to guess at, before letting out a long exhale of breath. “Curt never made it to Algeria,” he said in one breath. “No one knows what happened to him.”

Stella’s eyebrows came crashing down low over her eyes. She was frowning so hard it was aching in her cheeks. “Didn’t anyone count parachutes?” she asked quietly.

“Weren’t a lot of time for that,” John informed her. “If we hear anything I’ll pass it on, but -” Again, he shook his head. “The way the forts were going down…” He couldn’t muster an end to his sentence.

“Oh,” Stella said, because that was all she could think. “Oh.” Curt was gone. And he wasn’t coming back. Whether dead or prisoner of war or on the run in occupied territory, she wouldn’t soon be seeing him back here, wouldn’t soon be dancing with him in the officers’ club or chastising him for fake flirting with her or laughing at his stupid jokes. “Oh.” It was all she could think to say.

“I, uh -” John was looking at her strangely. “I’m sorry, Stels.”

Stella swallowed hard as she nodded. “I, um…” She sighed and shut her eyes for a moment as she schooled her expression, as she beat her emotions into submission. “No,” she said when she found it in her to meet his eyes again, “I’m sorry, John. You knew him better than I did. I’m - um - I’m really sorry for your - um - for your loss.” She hated that there were tears stinging in her eyes and hated that he could see them, so she looked away and sighed silently in relief when she saw Lucy the flight engineer rounding the corner of the ATA hut. 

Stella was clutching the fez so tightly in her hands that, when she realised, she worried for a moment she might have bent it out of shape, but she hadn’t.

“Sorry I’m late, ma’am!” Lucy called as she picked up her pace, hurrying over.

Stella gave her a strained smile and none of her usual scolding about punctuality. For once, Lucy was right on time. 

“Ready to go?” was all Stella said as she turned to her.

If Lucy noticed her tears she didn’t say anything. “Whenever you are, ma’am,” she confirmed. She went ahead to the waiting jeep to give Stella and John their privacy.

Stella watched her go while she attempted to dry the emotion out of her eyes.

“Fly safe, alright?” John said after a few beats.

Stella mustered a rueful smile. “It’s not all that dangerous, what I’m doing,” she informed him. “Just ferrying.” She liked to think of herself as an equal to all the combat pilots on base, liked to think that they did similar jobs and that she could do what they did easily and to the same degree of success as she did her current job. But Curt was gone. A great many other good pilots were gone. When they climbed into their B-17s it wasn’t to fly to another British airfield a few hours away, it was to fly into an active warzone, to be hit with the same flak that had made her panic not so long ago. Being fired on for little more than a minute had put her in the infirmary for a week. In combat, they got fired on for hours, they got shot at by fighters, real Luftwaffe pilots like the ones she so often insulted.

It wasn’t the same, what she did and what they did, as much as she liked to convince herself it was. Whether or not she could do that job if it ever came down to it she would likely never know, but for now, she didn’t deserve John’s worry or his wishes for her to stay safe in the air. She was flying back here from a base near Leeds. That was all.

John was watching her carefully. Stella could tell he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. But all she gave him time to say was, “Stels -” before she gave him another tight smile and moved past him.

“I’ll see you later,” she informed him over her shoulder.

John turned to watch her go, his eyebrows low, his lips pursed. “Yeah,” he muttered, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops as he watched her climb into the back of the jeep beside Lucy. “See you later, Stels.”

Stella didn’t see John later. In fact, she didn’t see anyone except the other girls who lived in her hut. She went to dinner early and took her food away with her, then ate it in that spot she liked to go to on the edge of the base where she could watch the birds. As soon as dinner was out and she imagined everyone had scattered, she went to her hut and showered and washed her hair, washed her face and got into her pyjamas and climbed into bed. Alice tried to convince her to go to the officers’ club where there was some sort of welcome home party being hosted for the Americans who had managed to make it back but Stella resolutely refused, strongly enough that Alice only asked her once.

Stella didn’t want to have to go in there and confront Curt’s absence head-on for the first time. She wanted to stay in bed with her blanket and her teddy bear and her book about birds and pretend that the world was something other than what it was, that the war was something other than what it was.

At some point, with the arrival of the Americans and all their parties and bike races and drinking competitions, Stella had come to forget why they were here, what they did when they left the base. She couldn’t forget now. But she didn’t want to remember.

Replacements arrived to Thorpe Abbotts within a matter of days. It was a term Stella resented, to call them replacements, because they could fly the same planes and fill the same uniforms but they’d never be the same, not really, but it was a sign more than any other of the passage of time.

To Stella, it felt like the good old days were over.

She observed these new airmen from afar with arms crossed and narrowed eyes. They didn’t look like they belonged. They were all a little bit uncertain, regardless of how much bravado they went around introducing themselves with - nothing like the first wave of Americans, really. Their unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar voices and unfamiliar accents put Stella on edge.

She didn’t want much to do with them.

“You met any of the new boys yet?” Alice asked, approaching from behind and sitting beside her in the grass outside the mess hall.

“No,” Stella said.

“I like the tall one,” Alice informed her. “Blue eyes. The one with the moustache.” She pointed him out to Stella but Stella had known who she meant anyway - there was something Hollywood-looking about him. He was another one who looked like he ought to be a film star instead of an airman. “Everyone calls him Rosie,” Alice went on. “I overheard them. He’s the one I want.”

Stella hummed her acceptance of this.

“D’you think they’ll be at Dye’s party tonight?” Alice wondered.

“I’m not sure if Dye will be at Dye’s party tonight,” Stella replied.

Today was the day Glenn Dye was set to fly his twenty-fifth mission. If he did, he was getting a ticket back to the States and a war bond tour built around him, set to be a flying instructor for the rest of the war and live his days out in peace. No one at Thorpe Abbotts had gotten close yet so, naturally, a party had been planned for him and his crew. The officers’ club had even been decorated for the occasion.

Stella dreaded to think what would happen if he didn’t make it back. But she also couldn’t imagine him managing it. Twenty-five combat missions. It seemed absurd that anyone could survive that many. Stella had barely survived being shot at once.

Alice scoffed and brushed her aside. “Lighten up,” she said. “He’ll make it back. So, do you think the new boys will be at the party tonight?”

“Maybe,” Stella relented. “They’ll want to meet everyone. I’m sure most of them would like to meet the female population around here, especially.” When she glanced over at Alice she found her grinning.

“The female population would like to meet them right back,” she declared. And then: “Come say hi with me.”

“No,” Stella said instantly.

“Fin,” Alice complained. “Just for a minute.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“We’ll meet them tonight.”

“I want to get a head start before any of the wireless ops manage to turn his head,” Alice insisted.

Stella scoffed as she turned to Alice, but she was wearing a small smirk. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said. “I heard that Freddie Leroy’s away on leave.”

“And Millie Harlow?” Alice asked with narrowed eyes. “Is she on leave too?”

“No,” Stella replied evenly. “I saw her at breakfast.”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “Then I still need a head start. In my experience, pilots have some inexplicable fascination with wireless operators. I think it’s because they’re the last voices they hear before they go out on a mission and the first when they come back. Like they’re a symbol of home or something.”

“Or they’re just pretty,” Stella reasoned.

“I’m pretty,” Alice objected.

Stella smiled a little bit, pulling a daisy out of the ground and pushing it behind Alice’s ear so that it peered out of her mess of warm brown hair. “You’re the prettiest,” Stella agreed.

“Prettier than Freddie Leroy?” Alice asked, smiling coquettishly and batting her eyelashes.

Stella laughed and gave her a gentle shove. “You leave Freddie Leroy alone. She helped me massively when she came on the radio after I’d been shot at. I won’t hear a bad word about her.”

Alice was laughing along with her as she picked up the daisy which had fallen out of her hair when Stella shoved her and tucked it back behind her ear. “I like Miss Leroy just fine and you know it. But she’s not here right now and I am. So.” Her eyes turned round as saucers as she tried to appeal to the softer side of Stella. “Come say hi with me?” she requested in a high-pitched, girlish voice.

Stella stared back at her blankly before rolling her eyes and planting her hands in the grass, all but shoving herself to her feet. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t expect me to say anything. You’re doing the talking for the both of us.”

“Yay!” Alice exclaimed as she jumped up and started to lead the two of them over to the group of new airmen who were still lingering by the mess hall. She beelined for Rosie where he was standing surrounded by a group of men who looked to him often during the course of conversation, as though for guidance, so Stella deduced that he was the pilot and the others were his crew.

“Excuse me,” Alice greeted when she and Stella slowed to a stop just outside of their gathered group.

Each of the men turned and offered polite smiles.

Stella wanted to be anywhere other than here.

“I thought we should introduce ourselves, since you’re all new and going to be living here,” Alice went on, now that she had their full attention. “I’m Alice and this is Finley, we’re both ferry pilots with the Air Transport Auxiliary. And you?”

The man beside Rosie, shorter than him with a receding hairline and a kind face, turned to Stella curiously. “Is your name actually Finley?”

“My last name’s Finley,” Stella explained, and left it at that.

When no one else made to say anything, their fearless leader spoke up for them. “Robert Rosenthal,” he introduced himself. “Everyone calls me Rosie.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Stella spied Alice grinning. “Nice to meet you, Rosie.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Alice,” he replied with a small smile and a nod. “And you, Finley,” he added, turning to Stella in an identical manner.

The introductions followed in a blur after that. The man who had asked Stella about her name was Rosie’s co-pilot, Pappy.

“Is that your real name?” Stella asked him with a raised eyebrow.

He cracked a grin as he replied, “No.”

Stella and Alice were further introduced to a Ron Bailey, Rosie’s navigator, a Clifford Milburn, his bombardier, and an awful lot of gunners, it seemed. Stella couldn’t have recalled their name afterwards even if someone had the barrel of a gun pressed to her temple, but she smiled politely at them each all the same.

“So, are you boys coming to the party tonight?” Alice wondered casually once the introductions were complete. “One of the crews on base is currently out on their twenty-fifth mission. If they return we’ll be celebrating their return to the States tonight in the officers’ club.”

“We’ll be there,” the navigator, Bailey, hurried to reply almost the instant Alice had finished speaking.

Stella stifled a smile as she turned to squint into the sunshine spilling over the buildings to her left.

“Glad to hear it,” Alice said. Stella could hear her smiling and knew she was about to say something bold. “We’re big on dancing over here,” she went on. “Just a heads up. So you will be expected to find a partner.”

She was winking at Rosie when Stella turned back to the conversation.

Rosie offered a shy, almost embarrassed, smile and looked in the same direction Stella just had.

She spotted a light flush high in his cheeks and laughed softly to herself.

“So, anyway,” Alice continued after a beat. “We’ll see you all tonight?”

The men offered their confirmations that they would be seeing them tonight, and then Alice was shooting them each a winning smile, looping her elbow through Stella’s, and turning them both around to lead them back the way they’d come.

“Always leave them wanting more, Fin,” Alice told her quietly, ducking her head towards Stella’s like they were scheming.

Stella grinned. She tipped her head to the side to nudge it against Alice’s gently before righting it again. “I think you’ve terrified poor Rosenthal.”

“Good,” Alice said, turning and throwing herself back in the patch of grass they’d been sitting on before, “that’s exactly where I want him.”

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Ginniversary Bingo N41 - Lost things Also on AO3

Luna had the kinds of wisdoms that weren’t always obvious to other Ravenclaws, but Ginny could always appreciate them. One of the things that Luna had told her, she held onto during that dreadful year leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts.

One time Luna had told her that ‘Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect’. It became Ginny’s mantra. The year of losing things became the year of hope. The year of torture became the year of fighting back. And she had to have faith.

Many things were lost during the Battle, ones she did not expect to find their way back. Her brother’s death weighed heavy on her, as did the deaths of Tonks, Remus, Colin and too many others.

One thing did come back to her, not in the way she expected at all. The young, innocent and hopeful part of her had expected a dramatic happy reunion where she jumped into Harry’s arms and nothing else mattered. It did, though. Everything mattered, it tore through her painfully, and he knew it too. He did not offer more than a comforting smile and a squeeze of his hand.

If she was honest with herself, the darkest part of her had expected him not to return at all. Something she had lost would be gone forever, no matter what Luna said.

The man that settled down beside her now was one that refused adamantly to be changed by the war, even if inevitable. He did not falter in his convictions and fought against the darkness every time. She could not have expected it, because she could not have fathomed what he’d have to go through.

He sat on the side of her bed silently. She had asked him to come.

“Did you sleep alright?” she asked him.

“No.” He shook his head and looked up at her. “Did you?”

“No.” She looked at him for a long moment. “You’re not going to run off again, are you?” It was half a joke, but something inside her was looking for reassurance.

“Never.”

Green eyes focused on her securely and tenderly. Suddenly the hope bloomed almost violently in her chest, threatening to break through her ribcage. Her lips crashed onto his with desperation. It only took him a moment to react and then his arms came around her. Everything that loomed over them before was gone, barriers lifted. Promises he could not make that got stuck on his tongue at the last moment, longing looks that led to nothing… They were a thing of the past.

His hands ran up her back and her neck. He cupped her face gently and put just enough space between them to speak. She held his gaze.

He breathed out and his breath landed on her lips. “I want to tell you…”

She shook her head. “You will tell me later.” The tilt of her chin was both a question and an order. Later, much later for all she cared—they had time.

He inhaled sharply as if he realised it too. “Later,” he agreed.

His lips landed back on hers and when his hand carded through her hair, it reminded her of long-lost moments by the lake.

[writingsofwesteros]

I may or may not be living up to this now- https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/754143172581621760/the-insane-irony-of-sending-in-this-ask-after?source=share

AU- Alicent has a girl before she had Aegon, so she is the eldest of Alicent's children with Viserys. She weds a Lannister, but her husband dies right before the war, from an illness, and she comes to court just in time for the Driftmark hearing. She's far more mature, having had a daughter with her Lannister husband, and she exudes a far more mature, maternal aura. Alicent is overjoyed at her eldest's return, she is gentle with Helaena and her children, and she gets along well with Aegon, because he surprisingly listens to her. As for Aemond, he was resentful, as a little boy when she was taken from him, his big sister who had protected him, and cared for him, where he could feel like a boy, safe, and not in the way things were with their mother, where she relied on him so much. But seeing her again after so long- she was beautiful. She presumed that being a widow, and a mother, that she would draw little attention with all the maidens at court, but oh, how wrong she is. After the mess in storm's end, the and realm is in full out war, Aemond no longer feels the semblance of comfort he received from the brothel madam- it felt hallow, now. That night he was quietly slipping through the halls of the Keep, on his way there regardless, when he heard it- a soft, gentle humming. He followed it, and found his older sister rocking her daughter to sleep. The babe cooed softly and she smiled, kissing her head and the babe nuzzled against her mother's thinly clothed breast as she dozed, and Aemond felt his breath catch in his throat. A part of him felt silly, for envying a babe- his own niece, whom of course he loved, but he felt a mix of shame and longing to be in her position, right now. His sister never looked more motherly than in that moment- and he wanted her.

His sister rested the babe in her cradle, and began to walk out to go to her own chambers. "Brother," She spoke gently. Aemond hmmed as he nodded in acknowledgement. "Is everything alright?" She took in the sight of him with his cloak on. "Are you going somewhere?" "I-" He sighed. "You are troubled," She rested a hand on his forearm. "I do not blame you- the state of the realm weighs on me heavily. Would you like to come to my chambers? I was just about to go sit and have some wine." She said kindly. His throat tightened as he saw the faintest little dampness on the front of her nightgown- barely perceptible but to him who had trained his eye to do the job of two.

She was breastfeeding. She nursed her babe herself, he realised. "I should like that," He murmured. She smiled, and they walked back to her chambers.

!!!!

Aemond just following with his desires at the front of his mind. He is so bad and becomes completely obsessed with his sister once more.

And when he becomes regent !

[milevenstancyendgame]

Revelatio Noctis

For Rayllum Month 2024, prompt: "I still love you" - reconciliation

One-shot fanfic, from Rayla's perspective (angsty, fluffy, rated T, I guess). Enjoy! :)

The rustling of her sheets and Rayla's own breathing were the only sounds that cut through the silence of midnight, as she turned around in her bed for what felt like the fifth time in a minute.

It wasn't exactly helping her to escape her restless mind. Ever since they had returned to Katolis from their mission, she had found herself being haunted by what general Amaya had told her in the great bookery.

She was surprised and slightly annoyed at this. Now that they had Aaravos' prison in their care (not exactly a peace-inducing state of things, in her opinion), shouldn't her first priority be to figure out how to free the trapped souls of her parents and Runaan?

The heat of shame crept up her face. Why wasn't she in the library right now or consulting a Xadian mage about this? Instead here she was, the great moonshadow elf warrior - tossing and turning because of a boy!

A snarl escaped her lips as she sat up. Things between her and Callum had definitely gotten better, so why was she so preoccupied with their relationship? Wasn't it obvious that they needed more time?

"That's only what you want to believe..." a little voice in her head responded.

Rayla frowned. Was this true?

Ever since general Amaya had opened her eyes about how selfish she had been in leaving Callum behind, she had realised that protecting him hadn't been the only reason for her solo adventure.

Opening up to Callum and her love for him scared her. That was the truth. And it had been easier - way too easy! - to just go back to "being strong on her own", than to stay and face that fear.

Fear of getting hurt, fear of getting abandoned, fear of herself, fear of being loved and cherished for exactly who she was!

Rayla clenched her knees and bit her teeth. It was hard admitting these things to herself, much harder than any physical fight she had ever faced. But then again that was what Runaan had focused on in her upbringing and there had been no "big feelings"-times. She was starting to think it wasn't as silly as she had thought at first. Maybe not silly at all.

Sighing, she got up and put on her cloak. There was only one way to get rid of this ruminating - she had to talk to Callum. "Share your burden", as general Amaya had called it.

Acting on a whim, she decided to climb out of the window and nimbly jump over to his, instead of taking the easy route. She felt like she wanted to turn back time and get another chance at that first meeting after two years. Only this time she wouldn't pretend like everything was okay (she cringed at the memory).

Her heartbeat echoed much louder in her ears than her knocking, but finally she heard footsteps and a slightly anxious "Who's there?"

"Callum, it's me," she replied. "Can we talk?"

"Rayla?" Callum's voice sounded even sleepier after he opened the windows and stared at her in surprise (an incredibly adorable combination, as she noticed).

"I'm sorry for waking you up," she started, before jumping into the room. "I couldn't sleep and felt like talking to you might help, but I understand if you'd rather wait until-"

Here she was interrupted by Callum. "No! I'm fine with talking now. What's the matter? Is it your coins?"

She bit her lip. Dear Callum! Always so eager to help, even when it meant discomfort or trouble for himself. Had she ever truly appreciated him? A strange war between shame and love seemed to rage in her chest.

"No, actually it's not about that." Ugh! Even he thought this should be her priority! "I came here, because..." She took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to apologise for leaving you two years ago."

The silence that followed these words was definitely louder than the one she had been annoyed with before.

"Oh," was all he said.

Rayla had to will herself to stay standing where she was. Her insides were screaming at her to run, to lighten the mood, to change the topic - anything but this!

"Yes," she continued awkwardly, feeling confirmed that he was still angry - and rightfully so! "It was wrong and selfish and stupid. I thought I was doing it to protect you from the dangers that came with my mission, told myself that you deserved rest and peace after everything we had gone through...but the truth is that I was scared of how our relationship might develop without constant threats to keep us on our toes."

Now that she had started, she didn't want to stop. Just get it over with.

"So I ran away. I literally ran away from you and my feelings. I'm so sorry, Callum!" Tears she didn't know had gathered, began to spill from her eyes, unbidden. Heavens, he must think me so weak and pathetic!

"Rayla."

To her surprise, his voice wasn't dripping with disgust, but was ladden with tenderness. She startled slightly when he cupped her cheek.

"Rayla, look at me." It wasn't an order, it was a gentle invitation. She still couldn't believe her ears and next thing she knew, her eyes were telling her nonsensical things too.

Instead of scorn, she saw nothing but love and concern shining in his green eyes (was there a candle burning in the room? Or was it the moon? She neither knew nor cared).

"Rayla, you're not weak." The fact that he had spoken her name three times in a row in this impossibly tender tone now wasn't lost on her. She felt dizzy from the delight of it.

Then the meaning of his words sank in. "But Callum - how can you say that? I hurt you so badly, and all just because I couldn't handle my own emotions! How is that not weak?"

Was she actually begging him to be angry with her? Goodness, she was more messed up than she had thought!

"You made a mistake. That's not the same as being weak. If you were weak, you wouldn't have returned. You wouldn't have figured out all these things about yourself. You wouldn't be brave and caring and just...you wouldn't be you."

Rayla shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. It was such a completely new perspective, so different from what she had grown up with!

But Callum hadn't finished yet. "If you were weak, you wouldn't be Rayla. And I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

There was the slightest hesitation at his last words, as though he wasn't sure whether she would reciprocate his feelings.

A bell was ringing in Rayla's ears, it was just too much - here he was, treating her with understanding and praise when she deserved none, but also implying that he wasn't sure whether she still loved him? Had he been thinking that she had left because of that?

She gasped audibly at this last thought.

"Callum, I hope you don't think...or ever thought that I left because of anything you did, or because my feelings for you changed!"

He looked vulnerable now, like a timid little child, who wasn't sure what kind of answer was expected from him.

Her need to protect his feelings was stronger than her shame and fear.

"Callum, I still love you. I always did. It won't ever change."

The atmosphere of the room changed immediately. It was as though the walls themselves were heaving a sigh of relief.

He didn't respond anything, and all she knew how to do to emphasise her words, was to hold his gaze and place a hand over his on her cheek.

Then his gaze dropped to her lips and he leaned in...Rayla watched it with no wish to run or hide, those feelings seemed to be something of a long distant past.

She had always been baffled at how soft his lips were, but not having kissed in two years...she felt like her whole body was melting and all that existed were the sensations and movements of their mouths. Not to forget his scent (Books. Definitely books, with something slightly musky that reminded her of his scarf), his breath on her skin, his hand on her waist (when had that happened?)...

It all ended too soon for Rayla's taste, but she guessed they had to catch their breath.

There was something reassuring in the way they held on to each other. She wished this moment would never end, as she lightly rested her forehead against his.

"Rayla?"

There was no uncertainty or concern in his voice now, just pure love.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you couldn't sleep tonight."

She laughed and he soon joined in. It had been so long since she had laughed like this, she hardly recognised the sound. It was a special laugh, her Callum-laugh.

"Same here," she mumbled fondly, resting her head on his chest now, with the intention to stay there.

~End~

[importantchaosgiver]

Where Loyalties Lie:

The Saviour Arrives

Summary: With the war Stepstones comes battle and blood. (Y/N) has seen battle, but after this... others realise that the realm wasn't so vulnerable after all...

Warnings: Canon typical swearing, blood, descriptive death and wounds

Masterlist

******

(Y/N)'s POV

This fighting reminds me of so much. But after two years of this? It is no Tarth. Daemon and Caraxes provided an advantage, but the Crabfeeder was cunning. I looked up from sharpening my sword to see Corlys. "How are you today?" he muttered. I looked down. Every day since I came here, since I disobeyed the king's wish, I could feel myself changing constantly. "No more than usual," I uttered, looking at Red Saint, cleaning the blade. This fighting helps me take my mind off things. Such as Viserys's new wife... Alicent. Last I heard, they had a child. Aegon II. That vision I had... it was true. I told Corlys of it and he was concerned. But if my vision was anything to go by, there would be more children.

"No one can fault you for what you feel, (Y/N)," Corlys whispered softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I feel nothing," I hissed, my fangs flashing in the mist and fire of the camp. "Yes, you do. I am not a fool. I saw the way you looked at Viserys when he announced whom he would marry. I could see your heartbreaking in your eyes. You can try to deny it, but I saw the truth that day," Corlys said calmly. My hand clenched even tighter around the hilt of my sword.

"It was nothing. A pathetic spark of emotion. He did his duty," I muttered. "I think it's more than that. You went against everything to come and fight here. Word had it Viserys was looking everywhere for you," he said. I looked down at my boots. Seven Hells, why must emotions be so confusing?! "I'll be lucky if he lets me remain a Kingsguard if ever we emerge victorious," I muttered, sheathing my sword. "Or if we do, he may be inclined to something more," Corlys said as I tied back my hair. "I've been by his side a long time. He has other Kingsguard, others who would do better than I," I said. "No one could replace you, (Y/N). One day, you will see," he said, letting go of my shoulder before walking off to prepare for anymore attacks. I sighed, looking out at the Stepstones. Fire and bloodshed. And what am I thinking of? If Viserys ever loved me? Pathetic woman, I scolded myself.

~~~

I sliced down some of the Triarchy, looking at Daemon. "Now I know what my father felt like when you fought by his side," he said, panting as we were practically back to back. "Back then, we had Vhagar. And it didn't last two fucking years!" I shouted, slitting a man's throat. "Still, quite a thrill," he chuckled. I gave him a look. "If we make it out of here alive, I will skin you for that. This is not fun nor a thrill!" I hissed, cutting down another soldier.

Caraxes was heard overhead. Good, the dragon couldn't have had better timing. As I turned around, I gasped, seeing a soldier behind Daemon. I grabbed the prince by the collar of his chest plate and pulled him away, clashing Red Saint with the soldier's weapon. The uneven ground left me with a strange and hazardous footing, making my defense and offense slightly weaker. The last thing I saw was a blade coming straight at me...

No One's POV

Daemon's eyes widened in horror as (Y/N)'s pained scream echoed across the battlefield. He hit the ground and quickly turned to see the soldier deliver a blow to (Y/N)'s face. She stumbled back and the soldier kicked her back, sending her off the rocks, plunging deep into the waters. "NO!" Daemon roared, cutting down the soldier with Dark Sister. But when he tried to find his friend, his brother's most trusted ally... there was nothing. Caraxes roared, as if feeling the weight of the loss. She couldn't be dead. She couldn't!

~~~

It hadn't been too long after that, that the war was won and Daemon returned to King's Landing, a crown of bone upon his head, his long hair cut short and some new scars gracing his body. But, unfortunately, when he walked into the throne room without Lady (Y/N)... people whispered and murmured amongst themselves. Viserys's breath hitched as he feared what was always his biggest fear. "Where is she?" he whispered. Daemon looked down after he had bent the knee, handing his crown over. "If it weren't for Lady (Y/N)'s efforts... I would not be standing here today," Daemon whispered. His voice sounded almost meek. He didn't want to deliver such news to his brother that their oldest and most loyal friend had died. The room grew still as the weight of those words came to be realised.

That was, until... the bellowing of dragons were heard. Confused, people went outside to see what was going on. The day was early, the morning rays of orange bathing the city. But that wasn't the focus. Upon the city walls, despite the distance, someone was clambering up. Then, they stood and everyone gasped, their breath stilling. It was... (Y/N). Her armour battered, her white cloak gently flapping behind her. Her long hair fluttering in the breeze. She looked at the city, raising Red Saint, the blade dripping blood. Her face... it had a lengthy gash on the right side. From her hairline, down. Her eye was closed as the end of the gash finished at her jaw. It soaked half of her face in blood, but she still stood. Viserys froze as the sun's rays shone behind her. He knew this sight. How? Before Jaehaerys died, he told Viserys of his dream. The dream of the White Saviour. The sword of blood, the cloak of white, the gash upon the face. The White Saviour... was (Y/N).

From below, people cheered, applauding as she revealed herself. She entered the city and walked all the way to the Red Keep. Blood dripping behind her, her clothes soaked with sea water, her breaths heavy as she came to the courtyard. Viserys quickly jogged down and caught her just as her knees gave out, Red Saint falling with a clatter. "Get Maester Mellos!" Viserys shouted, picking her up. (Y/N)'s eyes were heavy as he quickly entered the Red Keep. He wouldn't let her die... not now, not ever...

******

Hope you like it!

[kirain]

What's your personal headcanon for Wyll's ending? 👀

Wyll cuts through his foes like a whirlwind of vengeance. Devils, demons, imps; none of them see him coming until it's too late. Both hands cling to rapiers, one celestial—a gift from Dame Aylin—one demonic, dropped by a general who couldn't match his swiftness. Even without his Warlock powers, Wyll is a force to be reckoned with, and his enemies know it. Alongside Karlach, he carves out a name that becomes feared all through the hells: The Blade of Avernus, Defender of the Innocent.

For two years he and Karlach fight, thinning the numbers, preventing any force from crawling to the surface. There are many close calls, but they have each other's backs, until they finally make it to Zariel's forge. With Karlach free and his promise kept, Wyll returns to Baldur's Gate, where he quickly forms a legion of unique demon hunters sworn to a code most virtuous. A code that favours courage, justice, strategy, and insight. Under his tutelage, students learn to hunt and kill demons, as well as anything that might threaten their city.

And during this time, a woman catches his eye. A lady of High Court, who is all too happy to see the man behind the horns. Together, they expand his creed to other cities, until it becomes recognised far and wide as the Slayer's Ring. For three years he commands this troop, until the death of his father, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard. A painful loss not only for him, but Baldureans entire. It is then that Wyll realises his true calling. He wasn't ready before; the life of a politician seeming droll and corrupting, but he's ready now. With a heavy heart, he takes up the mantle of his father and leads Baldur's Gate into a bright, enlightened future, leaving the Slayer's Ring in the hands of his most trusted associates.

For a time, he mourns his father. The job of a Grand Duke certainly isn't an easy one, especially in the midst of grief, but sorrow doesn't last forever, as it's often remedied by joy. Not long after his father's passing, Wyll receives news from his Lady. She's pregnant. Together they have a son. Then another. Then another. Adam, Alder, and Cenric. Three spry, healthy boys, zipping through the halls of Wyrm's Rock Fortress. They take after their father in all the best ways, and despite his duties, Wyll showers them with all the love and attention they deserve—just like his father did for him. Raising his own children only makes him revere his late father more. Doing it alone, without a partner, he can only imagine how difficult it must have been, but his father never showed it, and for that he'll always be grateful.

"I vow to give everything to my sons and to my city."

And he does. After a lifetime of travel and adventure, bloodshed and war, misery and companionship, Wyll is happy to settle in the place he once called home. The place he never truly wanted to leave, but circumstance compelled. Though some take quiet issue with his form, those that matter, and the vast majority over, devote themselves to his leadership. He doesn't demand respect, but he earns it in abundance. Though once afraid such power might corrupt him, it never does.

As for his dearest friends—the ones with whom he faced near certain death, the ones who pulled him up at his lowest moments, the ones who fought beside him with grit and loyalty to spare—he sees them often, and he keeps a steady correspondence when fate takes them further. Even in his golden years, when his sons are grown and his reflexes slow with age, they remain in touch, visiting as often as they can to bring a smile to his wrinkled face. It's a busy life, but it's a good life. A fulfilling life. One he can be proud of.

And when his time comes, those same friends are there, by his bedside, giving him the send off he deserves. He leaves as a friend, a father, a husband, a grandfather, and the beloved hero of Baldur's Gate.

[noirbriar]

The Star, the Sky & the Sea

Feeding myself in this fandom be hard. So just a implusively written self-indulgent post-canon mu / murrue family ficlet for myself. Timeline be years after SEED Freedom. OOC and everything is all on me as always.Tread lightly please.

---

For a soldier who has survived so many wars, Senior Colonel Mu La Flaga has lived a rather long life. Hawk of Endymion, Shield of Orb, a retired Commander and MS pilot with a long combat record. Though now a just normal Instructor, the man thinks he has pretty much seen it all. Yet nothing can prepare himself for this scenario.

"I-Instructor Flaga?"

"Private Vesle?" One of his trainees is on his door step. After an extended work trip, his household was expecting a guest this evening, but certainly not his student.

Unless- Said trainee is also staring back at him blankly, but not before he catches the raven haired kid darting a quick glance at the family name plate beside the gate. Flaga.

His intuition sinks in just as he see the hamster's little wheel stops spinning in the boy's head as Private Vesle's realisation hits as well. ---

The sudden yell shatters the peace as Murrue gets startled out of her thoughts. Before she goes on auto-pilot, grabbing the brunette girl beside her protectively behind, pulling out her gun from the holster under her skirt. The ex-captain thankful that she had little time to get changed after returning from a project under Morgenrote.

An enemy? Although this was a gated compound for designated officials and staff of Orb?

No matter. Murrue charges out towards her main door, battle ready and only to find a furious husband and a bewildered stranger in casual wear outside their house. Who pales even further looking at the gun pointed at his way.

Eh?

Just what is this situation?

"Mu? What's going on here?" Murrue starts, lowering her gun a little after deducing its not an attack on her home. Now just utterly confused by this bizarre posturing by these two males.

"That's what I want to know!" Mu shoots back, keeping a narrowed eye on the one before him. The glare causing the younger man to take a weary breath, but he does not step further back. Which is impressive, considering the situation which is not in his favour. "M-mama? Papa??"

Their eldest daughter, Astella, peeks over from behind, blinking at the incredulous scene before her. Until sounds of steps thunder down the stairs and join in their weird gathering out by their front yard.

"What's going on?"

"Are we under attack!?" "Papa? Mama? Oh! Yo! Hello there, Ken!"

Mu snaps his head around to face his sons, a brunette with glasses and set of little blonds. One armed with his kendo blade, two with their archery bow. Their second and their youngest, twins. These are their four children, Mu and Murrue's pride and joy.

Said father however, is currently less than pleased, and now jabbing a finger, pointing incredulously at the raven haired kid before him.

"Astella Flaga, do you mean to tell me Kenichi Vesle is that Ken? Your boyfriend?!"

The question seem in trigger their usually sweet daughter, who is offended by the unusually rude question. "Eh?? What are you on about, papa? Yes! What are you both on about? Ken?"

"Hah??"

"A-Astella...I...didn't know... Instructor Flaga is, your father?" The kid, Kenichi Vesle, finally speaks up.

Astelle looks as if she cannot decide if she wants to laugh or cry.

"...There aren't many Flaga's in the Orb military, Ken."

"Ah. You, actually have a point."

Oh. Oh dear. This is a mess.

Murrue sighs with a soft shake of her head. She finally puts back the safety lock on her gun and buries her face into her hand. She was simply expecting a nice, peaceful family dinner. Now Murrue just prays the entire neighbourhood has not heard their epic misunderstanding. She steps up and gives her unhappy husband a gentle pat on his back.

Time for damage control.

"In any case, I think we should all head inside and discuss this instead." Murrue smiles sweetly, the young man afterall, is their guest.

Mu grumbles, but slowly, he relents albeit very reluctantly. Which causes Murrue to tug the muscular arm, pulling her husband back and allowing Ken to move inside their home. The cautious young man following behind their girl quietly as if he is about to march to his doom.

Target secured. At least, that is one down.

"Caelus Flaga, Kai Flaga, Sui Flaga. Go set the table for dinner."

"Roger."

"Alright, mama.

"Okay."

Ground crew deployed. Her boys obediently obeys without a problem. Now all that is left is the tricky one-

"Hello, yeah- no,stop greeting your elders as an old man! I-"

"Mu La Flaga, disconnect that line now, and get inside."

"...Yes, Captain."

---

AN: Mu was actually on the phone with Shinn there at the end because he wants Meyrin to run a background check and he wants his daughter's godfather to be on his side too

[angelthefirst1]

Rick's story from season 1 and Beth's missing filming spoilers from season 5. Are they the same? The answer is Yes!

Looking back at the old filming spoilers from season 5 was a great reminder to me, that much funny business went on during filming at the time.

Many fans were EXTREMELY, even obsessively invested in finding out spoilers for season 5. The huge uptick in interest for spoilers was in large part because of what happened at the end of season 4.

We saw Daryl lose the girl that he (let's be honest) fell in love with.

The ship wars began and both those that loved Beth and Daryl, and those that hated them (the darkness) were obsessed with finding out what was going to happen.

Many fans spent hours at the filing locations just to catch a glimpse of who was there and what was happening.

You can read about the unseen Beth filming spoilers here. And all credit to @bethgreeneishopeunseen for the original sources and archives of these spoilers.

Now we don't know exactly what went on and what was really filmed or not but, I remember following the filming spoilers during that time and then seeing what eventuated onto our screens. Mostly what we saw onscreen matched the filming spoilers extremely accurately.

Except for these spoilers revolving around Beth. So it's really odd overall, and I do think the fans who wrote about these spoilers were actually correct in what they saw filmed, but it was never designed to be seen in season 5.

Looking back at Rick's story and knowing now how they repeat everything, even down to the smallest detail...

It inspired me to look again into Rick from season 1 and how those missing spoilers, and Beth footage could be connected to Rick's season 1 story.

It makes more sense now, than it ever did back then.

So I will go through and compare Rick season 1, to the missing filming spoilers to see if they fit together.

I was quite surprised by what I found...

Firstly, we obviously saw this scene repeated already. 👇

After the hospital, Rick makes his way home on a red bicycle, which he leaves out the front of his house before running into the house, to see if his family is there.

The first missing footage of interest to me, that lines up with Rick's season 1 story, are the houses that Beth was supposedly seen filming at.

The white house and the brick house next door to each other...

Almost all the season 5 characters were seen filming at these locations and 15 eye witnesses say they saw Beth, but no one was able to get a photo as she was hidden as best as possible, and rushed inside very quickly.

If they are repeating Rick's story, which they are, then it's no surprise they picked a house that's visually similar to Rick's own home from season 1. The pillars, the steps, the incline up to the house, the front porch, the window and door placement, and the railings. This is Ricks house. But it's got more Brick.

Beth's brick house made me laugh here, because brick is a combination of Beth and Rick, sorry 😂 anyway...

Rick leaves the red bike out the front of the house, but at Beth's brick house there is the red car with the Sheriff star on the wheel left out the front.

After Rick realises his family is gone, he gets hit in the head by Duane, and Morgan takes him to a neighbors house.

Beth's missing spoilers said that both the two neighboring houses were used in the filming and as i have said in past posts, there will be a convergence of signs when Beth (Jesus) returns. You can read more about how the convergence works here

They are converging Rick's story and all the imagery around it, and that is what is shown in the missing spoilers, everything we saw from season 1 together. Let me explain more below.

I found it interesting there is the visual similarity to the interiors of Beth's houses and the house that Morgan takes Rick to.

Rick wakes in a room with floral wallpaper and decorative hanging light fixtures and white trim.

Now, the black and white picture above, is actually the interior of Beth's White House. Floral wall paper and hanging light fixtures with white trim.

The other house with brick (Beth's brick house), its interior has a very similar paint colour and similar floorboards to the neighboring house Morgan takes Rick to.

While Beth's white house exterior, matches Rick's white exterior house.

So we see two houses in the missing spoilers that combined show the two houses Rick went to in season 1, his own white house and a neighbors house.

But the missing spoilers show one more house was filmed at, and that was this house 👇

A yellow house 🏠 💛 with black roof and black trim.

It's funny because the first picture in this collage below, is the exterior of the neighbors house that Morgan takes Rick to.

Both yellow with black.

This is not a coincidence...

Outside the yellow house is bike and a red car! Convergence, inversion, infinity.

Now, what's even funnier is the spoilers' state that the male seen walking with Tara, was playing the role of a character named "Andrew" Rick/Andrew.

The houses do seem to be repeating Rick's story, and this made me sure the spoilers are actually correct.

But there's more to look at.

Once Rick recovers in the yellow house, he goes back to the police station he worked at to get weapons.

Now I can't help but realise that when Rick was in the hospital, we saw the combination of a hospital plus police officers (Rick and Shane) just like Grady.

Rick goes back to his old police station (aka Grady). Does that mean Beth will go back to Grady? Who knows, but there are other missing spoilers from the hospital that indicated she might have.

Once Rick gets weapons from the station, he drives off in a police car.

One of the spoilers also said Beth was seen driving away from Grady in a police car. Rick was leaving the police station to find his family. Was Beth doing the same? or does she go back to get medical attention or weapons?

Now continuing on with Ricks story, he eventually ends up in Atlanta (Grady for Beth), where he leaves Merle on the roof.

We know Merle cuts his own hand off and goes missing. Daryl was absent at the time and when he found out he was furious and devastated.

I believe this scenario will be repeated with Beth. Merle becomes Beth disappearing with her arm in a cast. You could say her cast, 'hand-cuffs' the wrist.

What if Beth has her cast removed and Daryl finds it, questioning who removed it, and that leads him to try and track Beth down, even if he still thinks she is dead.

Merle steals a van in season 1, and they lose track of him, we don't see or hear about him for a very long time.

We see Rick find his family back at the quarry camp and Lori asks Rick if he wants his wedding ring back, he says yes, and she gives it to him.

Now, follow me here for a second.

What I just talked about above regarding Merle, his hand, him going missing, and the Lori and Rick's reunion with wedding rings, is a convergence of the signs of season 1, all summed up with these behind the scenes photos or clues, that Norman posted at the time of the missing filming spoilers.

The bloody hand with what looks like cut marks where Merle cut his hand off, and the combination of marriage and wedding ring symbolism. Nicotero and Norman are 'brother's'...

Now back in season one Lori takes her wedding ring off when she sleeps with Shane, because she thinks Rick is dead (till death do us part)

While Daryl finds only Merle's hand in season one, it seems these hints about the missing spoilers point to Daryl finding Beth's cast but losing the love of his life. Divorced.

Knowing how they repeat everything, and how Daryl takes Merle's hand when he finds it (same as taking someones hand in marriage), eventually he will ask Beth to marry him, but I think that will be later on not immediately.

We know Merle shows up again around the time when Andrea does, this is interesting to me because, next year we are going to see Rick (Daryl's brother) back in The one's who live, and we will get season two of Daryl Dixon -The book of Carol, which is really the book of Beth.

Andrea/Merle + Beth/Rick showing up at around the same time. hmm.

The last thing I want to discuss is the retirement home missing filming spoilers...

Beth was apparently seen filming at what was thought to be a retirement home.

Now, was it definitely a retirement home? We can't be sure, but it really would make sense, why?

Because Rick went to a "retirement home" in season 1.

Now, to start with Rick doesn't know it's a retirement home, he goes there to trade people. Glenn who was taken, for one of their group.

This is Rick's version of Grady.

Rick in order to get Glenn back, Rick is willing to shoot the place up in a gun fight if he has to.

Now you will notice at Beth's houses, the red car and the brick house have undergone a massive shoot out, with bullet holes everywhere. Was someone trying to get Beth back and did shoot the place up? I would say yes!

The leader of the other group in season 1, wants Rick's guns and wants the trade to include the guns as well as his man.

Rick declines, saying the guns are his. So the leader threatens to feed Glenn to his ferocious dogs, he says to Rick "I'm going to chop up your boy, feed him to my dogs, three of the evilest, nastiest, meanest bitches you ever saw. Picked em up from Satan at a yard sale".

Now the filming spoilers also indicate that a dog was filming at Beth's houses. A Rottweiler named Ozzy, and his doghouse is located in the yard (yard sale) of the Brick house.

The owner of Ozzy said the dog had two scenes in season 5, but he was never seen onscreen.

And a sign placed out the front of the brick house said "Beware of dog".

Now the dogs in Rick's story were not really very scary...

The leader of the group gave a very long-winded, over the top, scary caution about how dangerous his dogs were.

In the missing filming spoilers, the sign with 'Beware the dog" seems to have 'the dog' crossed out. Kind of removing the warning, like it's not a threat.

But If Ozzy did indeed have a part in these missing scenes, which it looks like he did. Then the low key warning on the sign, combined with the over the top warning from season one about how mean the dogs were, when they actually weren't.

Points to Ozzy being extremely vicious.

There's actually a lot more i could add, but this is way to long already.

The overall point of looking back at this, is to show the missing spoilers are all too similar to Rick's story to be a coincidence.

We will eventually see them, and it seems to be right around the corner.

One last thing, the episode where Rick gets a reunion with his family is in 103, and it's called, Tell it to the frogs.

Frogs is another way of talking about the french or french people. Linking a big reunion to France...

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Harry’s life was full of low days.

Since the war with Voldemort ended in a truce, admittedly, those days have lessened. For a while, Harry found himself breathing easier, waking up each morning lighter, sometimes even finding the will to peacefully drift off to sleep at night, not a single nightmare.

Yet always, the low days persisted.

Depression, Hermione had insisted. We should get you a mind healer. They’ll do wonders in helping you talk things out and foster natural coping skills that simply everyone has—

But Harry didn’t want people in his head. Voldemort already had a permanent little home dugout in there; hell, Snape was bad enough when he tried to teach Harry occlumency. There’s no way he’d put himself through anything similar.

So Harry did what he did best when the world became too much; isolated.

There was comfort and torture in his solitude with equal measure. Time was too abstract. Midnight and afternoon blurred until it was simply boiled down to: I’m awake now. He didn’t take visitors but allowed the occasional floo call and owl. He supposed that patronus counted as well since his wards couldn’t deflect them.

But there was only so long Harry could hide away before his status and the demands of the wizarding world came knocking.

Nothing was ever done. His opinion was always needed. And try as Harry might to siphon off responsibilities when people weren’t looking, they’d almost naturally work their way back to him. Like a damn boomerang, or better yet, a homing missile set on destroying Harry with its inevitable return.

He didn’t have the answers they were searching for, or at least never the right ones. And Harry was so used to being a disappointment that by now, he thought these small things wouldn’t get to him like this. Yet they always hurt in new and unexpected ways.

With a sigh, he cast another noise-cancelling spell on the floo, refreshing the old one. Harry was all too grateful that Grimmauld Place only had one connection, given its age and state of disuse. And given Harry’s tendency to lose himself in personal projects, making him forget about the floo entirely. Very handy, that.

It was the perfect place to hole up even if over the years, people had started to realise this was where he scurried away to. Being one of the few Black Ancestral Homes left, its reputation was nothing to laugh at. Unrealistic horror stories about the townhome were told without much levity, completely different from how Sirius had narrated them to Harry.

But not everyone was so foolish as to believe a few tall tales and stay the hell away.

For starters, Hermione, Ron, and all of the other Weasleys definitely didn’t give a rat’s arse about it. Living in the house and cleaning it for almost an entire summer made it lose all of its dreary, potentially murderous charm. So they frequently tried to swing by and only stopped when Harry finally warded the door and stuck a note to it, requesting they give him some time and space.

Honestly, Harry thought the wards weren’t even enough to stop Hermione. Hence the note. He knew she’d respect that, at least. Though it had been a few months since then…maybe six? Which would probably explain the renewed vigour in the frequency of the floo calls. The calls Harry was still ignoring.

Maybe the wards were stronger than he’d thought?

He’s broken from his musing by three sharp raps at the door. The very proper kind, one that used the knocker and everything. No pounding fists and shouts.

Harry started, unconsciously taking a step back. He’d stopped silencing the door after he put up the ward, its barrier just encompassing the front step. So a knock meant someone had finally gotten past it. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear, Harry sighed.

But when Harry opened the door and readied to speak to someone other than Kreacher for the first time in half a year, his words died all too quickly. His mouth hung open, and no sound could escape.

So he stared.

And continued staring.

Until finally—“Might I come in, Harry?” Voldemort asked.

What was one supposed to do if not stupidly nod and hold the door wide open to invite Voldemort in? Because if there were something else that could’ve been done, Harry would like to know. To armour himself for next time.

Next time?

Voldemort swept in like a maelstrom of robes, holding a small bundle of something. He took in the overall look of Grimmauld Place with slight bemusement and remarked, “You’ve changed it.”

In Harry’s defence, six months was a long time, and he ran out of things to do on day three. Tearing apart the stately dreadful everything of Grimmauld Place was the best way to fix that. Kreacher hadn’t been on board for the longest time but eventually caved when Harry had worked himself to magical exhaustion one fraught afternoon expanding the library.

Knowing all of this and the extent to which Harry had gone for it to look even half as acceptable, he could only passionately agree. “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

And maybe he was asking the wrong person because Voldemort frowned like Harry had made a particularly tasteless joke. “No. There were most likely decades, if not over a century, of history in these halls. Changing it is akin to burning it all down.”

Harry crossed his arms, “Or maybe I’m making my own history. Leaving my own mark and magic on these walls. I doubt a few structural and design changes will really do anything.” Harry scoffed, offended at the implication that he hadn’t treated his home with respect. It also irked him, funnily enough, that Voldemort might not like his preferences. He’d worked fucking hard, dammit.

Voldemort stayed silent, slowly assessing Harry from head to toe and back again. He relented, “I suppose it is… cosy.” It looked like it had physically pained him to say it.

“Whatever,” Harry shook his head. “What are you even doing here?”

Voldemort raised a brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my Horcrux and see if it’s fairing well?” He turned his back to Harry and wandered deeper into the house, poking his nose (and wasn’t that a marvel after so long seeing him without it?) into the newly painted and freshly refinished dining room.

“Uh. No. You are not.” Harry followed after him with a brisk pace, “And I’m not your anything. We’ve talked about this.”

And they had, at length, talked about Voldemort’s odd obsession with Harry’s Horcrux. Because that was what it was: Harry’s. It had been with him longer, literally lived as a part of himself. It would die without Harry, which practically made it a limb. Not that he needed the damn thing…though, it would be very odd to wake up one morning without its silent weight and sharp, jagged lines down his forehead and temple.

It would be even odder to be without the occasional glimpse of Voldemort’s thoughts and feelings that sporadically entered his mind whenever they were loud and forceful enough to make it past his constructed barriers.

Regardless, they’d talked about this. Harry’s Horcrux wasn’t like some pet or kid they had shared custody of. Voldemort couldn’t just drop in unannounced to do welfare checks or whatever insane nonsense thing he deemed reasonable enough. He acted like he’d come over one day to find Harry dead on the floor or holding a basilisk fang to his head—ah, well, that last one might have been truer some years back.

Voldemort only hummed, its vague tone merely implying he’d heard Harry and not that he’d agreed. His steps took him into the parlour and back out into the entry hall. “You’ve not been answering your floo,” he stated and started to make his way up the stairs by the time Harry looped back to him.

“Hey! Hold on a second-!” Harry called after Voldemort, only to watch him ascend to the first floor with little care for anything Harry was spouting.

Incredulous, Harry practically chased Voldemort around his entire home. From the drawing room to the guest bedrooms to the study and, inevitably, the library. Voldemort opened every door he came across—even the cloakroom!—like he wasn’t invading Harry’s personal space and rudely giving himself a tour.

Harry wouldn’t say Voldemort had done so with any decency, but he had stopped once he caught sight of the new library. And even though Harry was miffed and, for some reason, still hesitating on calling upon the wardstone to remove Voldemort forcibly, he was pleased that this room seemed to hold Voldemort’s attention long enough to make him pause.

After all, the library was Harry’s biggest undertaking and still wasn’t actually complete. There were a few nooks he had to sort out, not only for himself but for Hermione and maybe even Luna, for when he’d finally break out of his isolation and let them over. Its deep forest green was a nod to the Black Family’s Slytherin roots which paired nicely with the polished silver hardware on every sconce and metal accent.

The black leather couches could also be an aesthetic choice, but really Harry only picked them because they reminded him of Sirius. And he’d never say that out loud for fear of over-inflating Padfoot’s already abnormally large head.

Voldemort carefully walked through the shelves and trailed his fingers along their fine wood grain. Once he came upon the darker, moodier books with more personality and bite than books ought to have, he stopped and lifted his hand. He was rubbing his fingertips like a mother-in-law looking for dust. “It was once a deep maroon, did you know? Long before Orion and Walburga laid claim to the home. It was Arcturus the second, Orion’s father, who owned the house before him and had married Melania Black née Macmillan, a fiercely ambitious Gryffindor with a soft spot for cursed books.”

Harry watched as Voldemort started perusing the titles; he continued, “Lucretia often spoke about it, her mother’s prized library. Sensible rumours implied the woman was quite depressed after the wedding and requested the colour to adjust better to newly married life.” He turned back to Harry, “The other rumours, not so sensible, spun tales of the Black Family’s Library and spread like a fine duvet. Stories of how the walls were smeared thick with muggle blood and of the dark rituals that were required for the home to maintain its perfectly fresh hue without even a hint of an iron smell in the air. They were told to the younger Slytherins like a ghastly bedtime warning.”

Then Voldemort walked up to Harry—too close—and tilted his head down, his lips just a hairsbreadth away from Harry’s ear, “Between you and I, there may be some merit to them.” His breath tickled the side of Harry’s neck as he huffed a small laugh and stood straight once more. “Or it was all merely a power play by the entire Black Family. At the time, five of them walked Hogwarts’s halls together, and what a clever little tactic to establish superiority and cultivate fear that would’ve been.”

Say what you will about Voldemort, Harry sighed, his arms crossed. He certainly knows how to give a compelling monologue. He was confident he could leave a cardboard cutout of himself here for days, and Voldemort would go on and on and on, none the wiser.

But, Harry couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. It was nice to hear.

“I didn’t know,” Harry replied and took one giant step back. “It was so mouldy in here that the walls were some kind of lumpy grey colour. I tried scraping the gunk off with severing charms, but it was a lost cause.” He shrugged, “They could’ve been red.”

Voldemort’s pleased look fell at Harry’s words. Harry couldn’t blame him. Gunk was not great imagery. No matter how accurate. “Well? Enough about the ‘good ol’ days’, old man. What do you think of my handiwork?”

Harry delighted in Voldemort’s scrunched-up nose. “You insolent child.” With a final glance around the library, he acquiesced, “It is acceptable.”

“High praise from the mighty Dark Lord,” sarcasm dripped from Harry’s tone. His thoughts shifted when he suddenly remembered, “And how did you know I haven’t been answering my floo?”

Voldemort looked very unimpressed, “Naturally, I tried to use your floo address and was promptly rejected. Your muggleborn friend seemed up in arms, ready to storm the castle if you will, because she hadn’t been able to breach the wards you erected.”

“What? When was this?” Harry couldn’t believe he’d somehow managed to block Voldemort’s floo access. Thank Merlin.

“That doesn’t matter,” Voldemort quickly sidestepped Harry’s question. “What matters is the amount of torment I’ve been subjected to because of your sudden disappearance for months on end.”

Voldemort was quiet for a moment. “And Granger mentioned you may be depressed.”

That previous shock, the one Harry had found himself in when he’d opened the door to Voldemort and his new pretty face and stupid nice hair, came flooding back. Harry’s body slumped with the surprise, arms uncrossing, utterly at a loss for words.

“I’m…” Harry tried to start, but Voldemort cleared his throat and talked over him, “It turns out she’s just ignorant. Had she gone through any of the books the ministry has falsely labelled ‘dark’, she would have found the counter to your wards much sooner. Wherever did you find the rune work?”

“She’s not ignorant,” Harry frowned. Hackles raised and surprise forgotten, “And take a wild guess.” He gestured to the room at large.

“Ah,” Voldemort stiffened. And though his awkward face tickled Harry’s satisfaction, Harry could feel Voldemort’s overwhelming relief leaking through their bond—Harry didn’t know how being made a fool could be relieving in any way.

Then Voldemort’s hand raised, and Harry watched as his leather lounges grew autonomous and walked closer together, a small glass-top table conjured between them. Voldemort did this, and Harry’s eye caught sight again of the small bundle he’d staunchly held since entering the townhome. He watched as Voldemort placed it on the table and gently tapped the cloth with his wand to reveal a warm, freshly baked treacle tart.

Like whiplash, that stomach-swooping surprise hit Harry again.

The evening sunset through the tall stained-glass windows of the library cast a golden glow on Voldemort’s features, and the silver-sconced candlelight flickered in the deep muddy red of his eyes, making them sparkle like garnets.

If that was the colour Melania Black had requested, Harry thought with substantial awe; I could see the appeal.

“Your favourite, I’m told,” Voldemort carried on like he hadn’t just done something incredibly thoughtful and considerate for what was no doubt the first time in his life.

It dawned on Harry just how lonely he’d been, isolated for this long with no one able to pull him out. The words slipped from his mouth uninhibited, “I��Thank you, Voldemort. I didn’t realise how badly I wanted to see a friendly face.”

The second wave, stronger and dizzying, of surprise, wasn’t Harry’s own. And he could see, now that Voldemort was in front of him and Harry knew to look, that surprise on Voldemort. “You think my face is friendly?”

Blinking rapidly, Harry responded with an inelegant, “Um…well….”

“That’s a shame,” Voldemort continued. A hint of something—laughter?—creased in the lines of his eyes and smirk, “I’d prefer intimidating. Or awe-inspiring. ‘Friendly’ isn’t the kind of face a Dark Lord should have.”

That might be so; Harry couldn’t suppress the fond smile that tugged at his lips and the way his shoulders relaxed, sinking with the thaw of his isolation. But—

“I think your face is just right.”