#cannot express in word how much i dread this happening

[taradactyls]

Sneak Peak of Chapter Forty-Two of Trying to Tread Water

As promised, because I didn't get the chapter finished before Christmas busyness kicked in, and I didn't want to leave you all with nothing over the holidays. Hopefully this will keep you going until I get the chance to write the rest of the chapter!

~

Chapter Forty-Two

When seeing that the direction was in his aunt’s hand, Mr Darcy scowled at the letter a moment, before returning it, unopened, to the silver platter with the other mail.

“What is it?” enquired Elizabeth softly from the sofa, noting his expression.

“Lady Catherine has written,” replied he. Elizabeth looked as though she might stand, and he gestured for her to remain seated as he instead moved to sit beside her. “I was not expecting it. Georgiana had heard nothing from our aunt about such a step as of her last letter.”

“A response from Lady Catherine! Do you not want to read it now?”

“Not in the least.”

Elizabeth took his hand into both of her own. “Surely there is nothing to dread? At worst, even if she does scold you and denigrate me, we are exactly where we were before.”

“It is not that I dread anything Lady Catherine has to say,” he said frankly, meeting Elizabeth’s sympathetic eyes. “Instead, I simply refuse to have our morning disturbed by her. I am looking forward to going around the park with you in the curricle far too much to allow the contents of her letter – whatever that may be – to intrude. There is time to read it and think about any ramifications or responses later.”

“Well,” his wife smiled, “I cannot pretend a morning seeing Pemberley with you is not an infinitely more appealing prospect.”

He pulled one of her hands up to give it a kiss, and kept holding it as they fine-tuned the details of their outing. Yes, this was a far greater priority than his aunt.

Mr Collins would be aghast if he could see Pemberley over the course of that day, for as it happened, there was much that its occupants deemed more important than Lady Catherine, and so the ‘later’ designated as the time to open her missive did not come until long after nightfall. But as he could not see, there was not one person displeased by this and peace was allowed to reign on English shores. Mr and Mrs Darcy were settled comfortably in nightclothes and robes in her room, on the lounge before the fire, when Elizabeth, feet tucked upon the seat as she leant against an arm rest, finally watched her husband pensively open the letter. He perused it briefly, his expression revealing little.

“Lady Catherine does not insult you, so here,” he said, offering Elizabeth the letter, “you may read it for yourself.”

Though too respecting of the privacy of correspondence to have ever asked to see it, Elizabeth could not hide her eagerness to read the words of the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Mr Darcy gave her a brief summary as she took it from him. “Though there is a little resistance, it does seem her resentment is giving way. You were right, Mrs Darcy, to prevail upon me to overlook the offence and seek a reconciliation.”

“I am too glad for your and Miss Darcy’s sake to even be vain about my unparalleled wisdom,” she smiled.

“Clearly,” he replied, arching an amused brow.

She only smiled again and turned to the letter, which did show promising signs that the breach may be mended. Yet not even that relief, nor the seriousness of the topic, could negate how diverted Elizabeth was by reading some of Lady Catherine’s highhanded phrases.

Mr Darcy observed her silently as she read, sitting sideways with one knee on the seat and an arm propped on the back of the lounge, head half-leaning against that hand. “What part are you reading?” asked he, after she could not withhold a brief laugh.

Putting on her best imperious – and only slightly comical – voice, Elizabeth grandly reread the sentence. “‘I am pleased to discover from your petition to me that you have not entirely forgotten that sense of familial duty which was always so admirable in you.’”

The gentleman groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “How I hate to feel I am supplicating before her.”

“You do not appreciate being told ‘I know how distressing my displeasure must be to you, for you could not but feel it keenly, and as I am more compassionate than most I cannot but be touched by your agony’?” replied Elizabeth, reading again from the letter in the same tone.

That did draw a smile from Mr Darcy.

“But of course, how could you mind it,” Elizabeth said archly, poking his leg with her foot for emphasis, “when you are the wayward nephew being so generously welcomed back into the fold.”

He seized her foot before she could poke him again, and smiled fully at her surprised response. “I mind it significantly less when you are the one reading it to me,” said he as he lay her foot across his lap, his hand resting gently atop her ankle, skin separated only by her nightgown. “I might even be able to hear it without a shade of resentment and thus formulate a more measured response.”

“Well then,” replied Elizabeth, ignoring the heat in her face, “allow me to get comfortable and resume.”

Impulsively propping her other foot up next to the first on his lap, Elizabeth read on. She felt most of the letter seemed a superfluous demonstration to appease Lady Catherine’s own pride, and allow her ladyship to ignore the fact that the aunt benefitted far more from amicability with her nephew than the reverse. But, as that made for good material to read in an irreverent fashion, Elizabeth would hardly complain that the letter could be reduced to a third of its actual size without losing any crucial content. Especially when Mr Darcy was so often smiling at her delivery of the lines, the warm glow from the fire softening the lines of his aspect even further.

A little bit swept up in it, Elizabeth was not always aware exactly of what she was saying. One moment it was a condescending “If you wish to honour that unique trust that is placed in yourself and your cousin, the Colonel, to aiding the maintenance and proper management of Rosings Park, I should not object to allowing you the opportunity to regain my esteem by seeing you again in that capacity.’” The next, it was “‘Very well, Fitzwilliam, I will recognise you again, and even allow your marriage to stand,’” before Elizabeth suddenly realised what she just uttered.

Halting suddenly, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to Fitzwilliam Darcy, and was horrified to see him grimacing. Before she could apologize for the unintended causal liberty, for their situation, though married, was unique, he spoke.

“I had imagined my name from your lips would sound sweet,” he said, gaze fixed upon the fire, “yet when it is as you recite the words of my aunt, I cannot enjoy it at all.”

Though eased of her apprehension, she still explained “I was not thinking – I had not – I would never presume the right to address you so intimately. I only ever hear my mother use my father’s name when they are alone and she is so cross her voice travels through the walls.”

“That is also a far stray from my imaginings,” he said ruefully. His glance towards her was gentle, and his thumb brushing her ankle even more so, when he added “Do not fret, you have more than earnt the right to address me without ceremony in private. Plus, I have been calling you Elizabeth when we are alone for months now – I do not even know when I begun.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly at this, before her mind caught on what else he had first said. “How did you imagine it?” she enquired with a frown.

Mr Darcy blushed a deep crimson. “Mostly, mere casual use.”

“Well, in that case, what are our plans for tomorrow, Fitzwilliam?”       

It felt strange on her tongue, but only from newness. The taste of the name, the answering restrained happiness in Mr Darcy’s expression, was perfect. “Exactly as sweet as I thought,” said he.

Elizabeth herself blushed, and did not for a moment know where to look. “I hope not so sweet that you expect me to call you thus in public – I could hardly throw off decorum so blatantly,” she teased. Even her mother, as vulgar as she could be, would never be so crass as to incorrectly address her husband before others. The formality of a wife was part of upholding her husband’s honour and respectability, and showed her own gentility. It was simply good-breeding.

“No – such intimacy is not for their ears. Only you.”

“Then when we are alone, I shall consider you Fitzwilliam.” My Fitzwilliam, she wanted to say. Rising instead to levity, she added “Except for when I am very cross, apparently. What should I call you then?” she mused.

In an amused tone, he replied “I imagine the name you use will be of less import to me than your displeasure itself.”

“Perhaps I shall be so incensed that ‘Mr Darcy’ feels like a courtesy I do not want to give, and though ‘Darcy’ alone does roll off the tongue – and very easy to give that added emphasis to the first syllable, when venting my frustrations – perhaps I ought to go with the full name. Although an irritated ‘Fitzwilliam Darcy’ does rather sound like scolding a wayward child, and I am not sure that is the tone I want to capture when mad at you. I certainly cannot say ‘Mr D.’ or any other sort of abbreviation! And ‘husband’ seems so formal and cold when angry – although,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head in consideration, “I suppose that might have its uses –”

“Enough, Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy cut in with a smile. “I doubt this is a matter that needs to be pre-considered.”

“You are right,” she replied archly. “I should just go with the name that feels right in the moment.”

“Not exactly what I meant –”

“Unless that name is Fitzwilliam. Which I am to reserve only for sweet moments and never at all use when arguing.”

She smiled at his long-suffering sigh, the gentle stroke of his thumb over her ankle taking any negative associations from the sound. “I would retract my statement, that I do not want you to use it when cross, but I do not believe I ever asserted such. It is certainly not as bad as some of the names you might choose to call me during a quarrel.”

Elizabeth laughed at that. “And I suppose every name will sound sweeter when said happily.”

“Just so,” he said, looking at her.

They subsided into silence, gazes soft. Until Elizabeth suddenly remembered something: “But you know, Mr Dar- Fitzwilliam, that you never did answer my question as to what our plans are for the morrow.”

“Reply to that letter, for one,” he replied, nodding towards the letter Elizabeth she still held – completely forgotten in her distraction. “I ought to respond quickly, and propose that I visit this very month. Late March has ever been the tradition my cousin and I adhered to.”

“That will please Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he must attend then to supervise the planting is in order. No doubt he will appreciate the company if you are able to join him.”

“No less than I would appreciate his,” replied Mr Darcy. After a sombre pause, he added “I am uncertain of the likelihood of her granting permission for yourself to visit, however, so it may all be a moot point.”

Though growing curious about her new niece, Lady Catherine had not relented so entirely as to name Elizabeth as anything other than ‘your wife.’

Elizabeth could not help the smile that came to her face after a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, drawing out the word, “Charlotte keeps asking me to visit, so there is always the possibility we simply stay in different houses in the neighbourhood. That would not look odd at all!  I am certain it would inspire exactly zero gossip.”

���That might actually shame Lady Catherine into allowing you at Rosings.”

Elizabeth laughed, and by unspoken mutual agreement they left the topic there. There would be time enough to solve the dilemma of visiting Kent when Lady Catherine made her position on hosting her nephew and new niece clearer.

[jeanmoreaux]

guess it’s time for an update then...

your tags on a recent post about the unhinged and brain-melting quality of the aftg plot mentioned that you saw someone on booktok talk about the series and i literally had a visceral reaction to that information like

After reading this ask I was like okay I have to look on booktok's aftg tag and someone said it was a romance story??? A ROMANCE STORY???? like yeah it has a couple falling I love but God aftg is not a romance novel??? You are right on being scared and if I'm honest I almost cried seeing the video

[m3l0nfl0at]

just say yes - t. kuroo

kuroo tetsurou x f!reader ; fake dating to lovers, trigger warning: family problems which leads to a lot of degrading, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, flirty!kuroo x obtuse!fem reader, happy ending, 2000’s romance-esque vibe, y/n used a handful of times, heavy amount of pet names, a LOT of build-up, reader is lowkey weird girl coded (aka me), 13.2k words

summary: upon receiving an invitation to your sister’s wedding you decide to ask kuroo for a favor to be your fake date for the event. but what happens when your feelings for your fake date suddenly become real?

melon’s recommended melody: just say yes playlist

“I need you to do me a huge favor. Hear me out first, okay?” Kenma faces you in his chair even though his eyes were on his game. You inhale deeply, “I need you to attend a wedding with me and before you start saying no, I’ll do anything you want for a whole month”. Even though you knew Kenma could pay someone to do anything he wanted for him, you needed him to realize how desperate you were for him to attend this wedding with you. 

 While you look over to Kenma you’re holding your breath, your roommate was never consistent so you know him saying no was always a fifty percent possibility. Waiting for an immediate shutdown you’re instead granted with Kenma saying “Ok, when is this said wedding?” You start celebrating all too quickly because just as you tell him the dates, you’re met with an immediate dreadful silence. “Sorry, I have several business meetings that week but I think you can ask Kuroo. He did say he had vacation due to the off-season.” A flush creeps across your cheeks as you think about asking Kuroo. Knowing he’ll just tease you relentlessly for even asking him to fake a relationship with you. Kenma groans in annoyance at his game, snapping you out of your dazed contemplation, Kenma’s met with your pinched yet flushed expression.

 “You know better than anyone that I cannot ask Kuroo, Ken. Not only would I be betraying Alisa, but he plays around too much. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells trying not to get teased by him.” You huff sitting down while Kenma looks over at you with narrowed eyes finally taking his full attention off his game. “Just tell Alisa it’s a dire situation, I think she’ll understand why you so desperately need someone to attend with. She knows you wouldn’t voluntarily pick Kuroo for anything, even if he was the last person on earth.” You sigh letting your shoulders hang low knowing Kenma was right. Even though Kuroo was a smug bastard, he was your best option to come out of this wedding in one piece.

 Alisa immediately lets you in her apartment, noticing how you kept pacing around uneasily in the hall. Gaining the courage, you finally tell her your original plan to ask Kenma to come with you to your sister’s wedding until that ship sank quickly leaving you to a last resort. “So, you’re going to ask Kuroo to be your fake date because of your iffy relationship with your parents?” You quickly nod, lying flatly across Alisa’s bed. Looking up to see her supporting a sad sympathetic smile before she quickly follows up. “You know, I’m not his girlfriend right? You don’t need to ask me for permission to ask him out for pretend purposes. Besides, it's not like you have feelings for the guy.” 

 Pouting, you let out an elongated sigh conflicted because your gut was telling you instinctively, something didn’t feel right. “I know he’s not your boyfriend, not yet at least. Nonetheless knowing you like him it just feels icky not asking for permission. Plus, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries you may have. Or even worse, have you think I have any ulterior motives with him.” Alisa chuckles knowing that a major weight has now just been lifted off of your chest. Suddenly she pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, you both take a minute to bask in the comfortable silence until Alisa decides to break it.

 “I’m glad to have such a considerate friend like you, you don’t find too many people like that anymore.” 

You pick yourself up only to be mentally weighted down again, as a realization clicks that you’ve only solved half of your problem. Even though you got Alisa’s approval, you still hadn’t asked Kuroo, knowing he’ll be harder to persuade than Alisa. Massaging your temples you tell yourself to stop overthinking, for once giving Kuroo the benefit of the doubt. “Lis, how am I going to face Kuroo while I’m desperately begging for his help? He’s just going to ridicule me.” Alisa chuckles just as you start sulking for what feels like the tenth time today, picturing Kuroo’s annoyingly wide smirk.

 “Just ask him nicely like I do, he’s always super sweet to me. Doesn’t hurt to try?” You glance over at Alisa whose face is flushed all over while you make gagging noises. “Please stop, of course he’s going to be nice to you Lis, you’re an angel. For me, he just turns into a pestering tease who won’t give me a break. He can’t even have a normal conversation with me without poking fun.”Getting up you send Alisa a finger salute, taking off to go ask her rooster boyfriend to accompany you for the upcoming event. She then flashes you two thumbs up, sending you off in a nervous state. 

 Standing in front of Kuroo’s door with your head in your hands wondering what you’ll say to convince him to do this fake dating scheme. Fidgeting with your fingers, you finally look up to his door hesitatingly knocking twice, shocked to hear the chaotic rustling footsteps on the other side. Kuroo answers wearing a black fitted tank with some sweatpants signaling he just got home from the gym. As he leans on the doorframe, you suddenly take notice of his muscular build and just as you start to open your mouth to speak, nothing comes out. He notices you staring but decides to fill the silence feigning obliviousness. “Did Kenma forget something at my apartment again? No, I swore he came yesterday to get his Switch charger.” 

 You take a deep breath and close your eyes as you slowly start to whisper. “No, I actually came to talk to you. I need your help with something really important.” Kuroo lifts his brow and suddenly leans closer sporting his Gengar-like smirk. “I’m sorry but I actually can’t hear you, can you speak up sweetheart?” Your nose scrunches in disgust and suddenly you realize who you’re talking to. Not your roommate’s good-looking best friend but Alisa’s brash crush. Snapping out of whatever daze he had you in, you lean into him mimicking his stature feigning confidence. “I need you to be my date to my sister’s wedding next weekend. As a fake date of course…nothing real.” He takes notice of how you rush over your words and refuse to make eye contact with him but decides not to verbalize it, could be better blackmail material later he thinks to himself. 

 Kuroo leans on his door frame with an amused smile crossing his arms over his chest before puffing it to let out a chuckle. “Ok. I’ll do it.” You look at him with wide eyes shocked that he agreed so easily, shock soon turning into suspicion. “Why did you agree so easily, what do you get from this? Did Kenma pay you?” You step back raising an eyebrow only for Kuroo to lean towards you while pouting. He then reaches to take your hand holding it with sincerity. “Do you think that poorly of me sweetheart? I would never pass up an opportunity to date you, real or not.” He stares at you menacingly before you take your hand back to punch his shoulder. Making way into his apartment to land harshly on his couch, still wondering if he’s taking this seriously.

 “Ok for real, Kuroo will you help me or not?” He places a hand over his heart exaggeratedly taking a seat next to you. “I already said I would, what more do I have to do to let you know I have no hidden intentions?” You look at him straight on with narrowed eyes before muttering jokingly “I will never fully trust you, even if my life depended on it. Has anyone ever told you that you have the aura of a conman?” Kuroo looks at you as if he just faced the biggest heartbreak, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “You know I have heard that before but coming from you sweetheart, that feels like a direct hit.”You roll your eyes knowing Kuroo is always one for dramatics. You start contemplating how this is actually going to work since Kuroo and Alisa both agreed. “What’s going on in your head princess?”Kuroo follows up by scooting closer to you and tapping his finger against your temple. “Tomorrow, meet me at the cafe down the street from Ken and I’s apartment. We can go over the plan and most importantly boundaries.” you say as you scoot back from Kuroo only to be met with the arm of his couch. 

 Letting out all the tension in your body, you allow yourself to relax while walking back to your apartment. Filled with relief that you found someone to willingly help you get your mother off your back. Especially since that someone was as picture perfect as Kuroo was, he was the trophy boyfriend that every parent would want you to bring home. Kuroo was smart, athletic, determined, and very charming. You cross your arms snickering loudly, wait till your mother gets ahold of him, that’ll finally put an end to her constant nagging. 

 Entering your shared apartment you notice Kenma chatting with someone on the phone, tiptoeing to try and ignore Kenma from addressing the elephant in the room. “Hey, get back here. You can’t just ignore me! Tell me, what did Kuroo say?” Staring down at your feet in embarrassment you head over to Kenma who’s still on the phone. “He said yes right away, no questions asked.” Kenma wrinkles his brows “Then why do you look so…tense?”. You try avoiding eye contact with Kenma hoping that he would drop the conversation but Kenma was known to never give up. “I didn’t want to make it awkward, I just asked your best friend to fake date me for a weekend. You don’t find that weird at all? Plus, Kuroo seemed way too desperate for my liking, it freaked me out.”

 It wasn’t till you were done with your ramblings that you heard a boisterous laugh on the phone, automatically knowing whom it belonged to. “Kenma! Were you really on the phone with him this whole time? You twerp! It’s even more awkward now!” Kuroo continues laughing as your hands cover your hot face. “Princess, did you really just call me desperate when you were the one eyeing me as soon as I opened the door?” Kenma notices the flush intensify across your face but before he can say anything you interject. Stating that you were heading to your room not wishing to engage in any more of their pointless conversation.

Awakened by a blaring ringtone you answer even looking at your phone, only to be met with instant regret. “You’re going to the wedding right? Your sister expects you to be there, she said she was even making you a bridesmaid? You understand how big of a responsibility that is, especially at such a last minute-“ Your mother continues talking but your mind instantly shuts her out. Knowing you should be listening but not having the energy to put up with her this early in the morning. “Mom, look it’s early and I just woke up so do you think you could give me a minute before you start being belligerent with me.” 

 You hear your mother huff on the other side as if she just heard the most offensive comment ever made towards her. Unconsciously rolling your eyes as you answer her first couple of questions. “One, yes I’m going, I don’t intend to miss my sister’s big day. Two, I already gave her all the information to help her with the sizing for my bridesmaid dress.” you let out a big sigh “Did you have any other questions mom?”. Your mother smacks her lips, “No, but how come you talk to your sister and not me? Even on the family group chat you don’t talk? Are you being lazy these days, do you have nothing interesting to report on? I want to hear how you’re doing and you treat me like I'm not important, do you want a new mom?” 

 You get up from your bed holding the phone up to your cheek before you start pacing around the room. “Your sister told me you were bringing a plus one? Is that correct? Didn’t know you had it in you to get a boyfriend, especially after all these years. I mean your sister is already getting married and you’re barely getting into a relationship? Don’t you find that a bit odd?” She chuckles condescendingly while you start picking at your cuticles walking to the kitchen. “Well mother, as much as I would love to continue this interesting conversation, I actually have a meeting to attend so I’ll let you go. I’ll see you at the wedding.” 

 Your mom agrees before hanging up finally putting you out of your misery. You place your phone on the counter as you start rubbing your temples not noticing Kenma enter the kitchen. “Who was that? Is Kuroo bothering you already?” you chuckle at Kenma’s remark, as much as you didn’t like Kuroo’s endless teasing you sure wish it was him on the phone instead of your mother. 

 “No, it was actually my mother but it’s over now. That’s all that matters, she got her monthly call so lets hope she doesn’t call again. Now that you reminded me, I do have to text Kuroo, just to make sure he can make it today. Wish me luck with that.” You exit the kitchen not wanting to socialize right now, due to your mother draining your mental battery. Deciding that you should start getting ready to head out to meet with Kuroo.    

 Texting Kuroo you found that he was already on the way to the cafe just as you had finished getting ready. As you’re on your way to the cafe you feel drained due to never really regenerating mental stamina from your phone call with your mother. Walking on auto-pilot mode, you start thinking about how to approach this meeting with Kuroo without pushing your problems on him. Entering the cafe you see Kuroo tucked away in the corner, sitting in a cozy brown booth. As the scent of coffee hits your senses, you feel it replenishing your fatigue. 

 “Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I already paid for your drink. Don’t worry I made sure to ask Kenma for your cafe order.”. Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be as hard as you thought it would be. You start placing your bag in the booth to sit while Kuroo rests his head on his palm, “Are you okay? Not to be rude but you look like you had a rough morning. Usually when you see me you have this flush on your face and start to stutter nervously.”. He smirks but you stop him before he could go any farther “Thank you Kuroo for the treat but please just don’t do this”, you gesture at him, “today.” Then placing your head down on the table dissociating, feeling remorseful for snapping at him. 

 Kuroo tilts his head drawing his eyebrows together, knowing something serious must’ve happened for you to be this irritated. He then lifts a hand onto the table to catch your attention “I apologize, don’t feel guilty for telling me your limits. For today, I’ll set aside all my teasing. But seriously, are you okay princess? Talk to me, what happened? If you don’t want to talk about it then that’s fine too.”. He then reaches for his drink waiting patiently for you to speak. 

 Giving into the silence, you decide that bottling your feelings isn’t healthy for your friendship or  for you guys’ new found fake relationship. “I had a phone call today with my mother and let’s just say I’m glad you agreed to come with me because I don’t think I could’ve done this alone. Throughout the call she just kept talking about how my sister is living a great life while I’m barely getting mine started.” you didn’t notice it but you started picking at your cuticles again, Kuroo did notice. Placing his hand on top of yours as both of your eyes lock on eachother “I’m guessing that’s the reason you asked me to attend this wedding?” He lifts an eyebrow hoping to get a verbal answer from you but instead gets a nod.

 “Well then that’s why I’m here with you, you’re not facing her alone. I don’t know if this’ll make you feel any better but you guys just have different definitions of life goals. She thinks a major life goal is getting married, while you think otherwise, it’s not your fault she’s stuck in her own ideals and is trying to push them onto you. You’re a grown woman, she can love you as her daughter but I think you’re grown up enough to make your own standard bunny”. You start laughing, brushing off the ridiculous nickname and focusing on how he makes perfect sense of your mother’s logic without even having to meet her. Sneaking a quick glance at you, Kuroo mentions how he also had family problems with his parents as a child. “My family problems lead me to meeting Kenma, who is now my best friend. So, who knows what yours will do for you?” Kuroo nudges you with his elbow and you suddenly think inviting Kuroo to come with you wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

 After you and Kuroo’s chat about your mother, you decided going forth it wouldn’t be good for you to withhold your family problems from Kuroo, especially since he is going to experience your parents behavior firsthand. Still sitting in the cafe, you both collaborate to come up with ideas on how you guys both first met. “As much as I would love to tell my parents how we actually met, I’d rather come up with something more romantic.” you spoke sarcastically knowing how you and Kuroo originally met was an embarrassment. Kuroo laughs recalling the first time you actually met wanting to tease you but deciding not to pester you after the morning you’ve been having, “Well, if we make it too romantic it won’t be believable. How about we say we met through Kenma on a blind date and we hit it off after I saw how enchanting you were.”. 

 You roll your eyes, “You do know no one is here, right? You don’t have to add all the compliments yet, who are you trying to impress?”. Kuroo rolls his eyes playful, knowing how obtuse you are. He decides to move forward with the conversation and express his opinion on the situation. “I think it’s simple and effective. No one needs to hear that our eyes met and we instantly loved each other. If it's too romanticized then people won’t believe us or even worse, we won’t remember it.” Locking eyes with Kuroo you realize he is being unrealistically rational today, “Who are you and what did you do with Kuroo?” you raise a brow at him. He chuckles looking down at his hands bashfully before locking hands with yours to fully get his message across. “I don’t want to bother you with being playful, especially with the morning your mother gave you. I want you to know I'm taking this role seriously, no matter what happens on this trip, I’ll always be by your side.”.

 He then squeezes your hand letting you know his sincere remark wasn’t him joking around. “We should probably start leaving soon but can we meet again in say two days? You know, start picking up couple mannerisms and go over what feels right and what doesn’t? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable while trying to impress your family.” You agree with Kuroo knowing you won’t get comfortable with physical affection so quickly, “Sounds good, in two days we can meet at your apartment to practice mannerisms. Since I’d rather not give Kenma two front row seats to embarrass myself the show.” You and Kuroo laugh before exchanging glances while he smiles at you. “I’ll see you soon bunny, text me when you make it home.” Kuroo starts picking up both of your belongings before handing you your bag, so you can both start heading your separate ways. You looked back at Kuroo walking away, feeling better about your day. What you didn’t see was him looking back at you two times, it’s safe to say you both left the cafe with a new sense of realization that day.

Two days, it took you two days to come to terms with being physically affectionate to someone that wasn’t your sister or Alisa. The whole train ride to Kuroo’s apartment you wondered if you could just stay on the train until you ended up back home. As if Kuroo had a sixth sense, he soon texted asking if you guys were still on for later today? Your last meeting you both decided on being truthful and who were you to break that promise so early? Responding back to him you say how you’re nervous for today and that physical affection doesn’t really come easy to you. After you hit send you reminisce about how your father used to force you to hug him after every argument you guys had. Snapping out of your thoughts you see Kuroo responding not even a second later, “That’s okay. We don’t have to do it all in one go. We can take small steps or you can verbalize what you’re comfortable with and we can practice later. Remember, we’re in this together! :)”. 

 Relief washes over you as you once again realize that Kuroo might be a tease but he’s also a respectable person. Heading off the train and walking to Kuroo’s apartment, deciding to take the elevator up. A wave of nostalgia hits you, realizing last time you were here you asked him to be your fake date. The wave of nostalgia turns sour as you start to feel nervous again, you decide to calm yourself by doing some breathing exercises all the way to Kuroo’s door. As soon as you are met with Kuroo he stares at you grimacing, “Did you take the stairs, why are you breathing so heavily? You know there’s an elevator right?” You stop your breathing, “I didn’t take the stairs! I’m doing breathing exercises, you jerk. I’m sorry not all of us can be the cocky and confident Kuroo.” 

 Striding into his apartment as you both sit down on the couch. Kuroo being the first to break the awkward silence, “Well, did you think about what you were comfortable with trying on the train? I was thinking the most we would have to do is maybe holding hands and hugging. If anyone asks us about anything else we can just say we’re not big on PDA, it’s not like we have to explain ourselves anyway. I don’t want you to push your limits considering your mother is going to be draining your social battery. Does that make sense? Did it sound okay, you’re looking at me weirdly?” As you heard Kuroo carefully explain how he never wanted to push your boundaries or make you feel subjected to PDA, for once in your life you felt understood. Getting up from your side of the couch you inch closer to him before opening your arms awkwardly. Kuroo then wrapped his arms around you slowly, afraid you’ll pull away. Hugging Kuroo felt different from any other hugs you’ve experienced. 

 Your father’s hugs always felt coerced and demoralizing, you never thought hugging someone could feel so homely and natural. Still hugging Kuroo you decide to tell him the truth, “I never liked hugging, it always felt like a burden. My mom treated it as a chore, making me greet our family even though I hated them and even my father making me hug him after our terrible arguments. Anyway, hearing you talk right now about not wanting to push me into anything made me feel weirdly understood. Thank you Kuroo.” Kuroo smiles into your hair as he lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, “You shouldn’t have to thank me for understanding boundaries but since you never thank me, I’ll take it.”

 Tapping his shoulder, Kuroo realizes the moment is over for you but his heart still feels aflutter. “You’re right though, I shouldn’t have to explain myself to people. These are our boundaries and they need to respect them!”, you puff out your chest proudly before realizing you never answered him. “Oh and to answer your question, I’m fine with you hugging me and us holding hands. Nothing beyond that please.” Kuroo nods still freaking out over your shared moment before diverting your attention somewhere else. 

 “That reminds me, a suit should be fine to wear right? Since you haven’t really said anything about the theme of the wedding, I kind of just assumed. If not then we might need to go shopping.” Embarrassed, realizing you never really told Kuroo about the details of the wedding. “Sorry, Kuroo I didn’t realize! A black suit should be fine, I mean black will go with my bridesmaids dress-“ he cuts you off “Wait, you’re a bridesmaid? You really are worried about your parents if you’re forgetting key details. Well, I’ll make sure to look my best for my bridesmaid.” You side eye him, knowing he’s partially right. You’re placing more value on getting this interaction with your parents finished than actually paying attention to your sister’s big day. “We should both start packing for the weekend, it’s about a couple hours away so make sure to get some rest so you don’t fall asleep on the road. I’ll see you in a couple of days Kuroo.” You start heading for the door but just as you’re about to reach for the knob Kuroo beats you to it and opens the door for you. “Would it be weird if I asked for a hug before you leave?” You side eye him, “Don’t push your luck Tetsu.”. “Alright, I’ll see you later sweetheart! Text me if you need anything.” 

    The days leading up to the wedding passed quickly, as if time wasn’t on your side. The morning Kuroo and you had to leave you felt exhausted, mentally and physically. You couldn’t sleep due to the ticking time bomb that was your sister’s wedding, usually you would have texted Kuroo your concerns but didn’t want to wake him since he was the designated driver. The next morning packed and ready to go, you receive a text from Kuroo that he’s downstairs before heading out. Deciding to say goodbye to your roommate, you gently tap on Kenma’s door, walking in to see him at his desk. “Kenma I’m leaving…unfortunately. I’ll see you Monday, call me if you need anything!”Kenma nods and just as you start walking away he decides to say “Oh (Y/N), make sure not to fall in love with Kuroo, okay?” You freeze and start nervously chuckling. 

 Brushing off Kenma’s comment to walk down to your ride, you realize the nervousness washes away as you see Kuroo opening his trunk for your luggage. You knew that as long as you had Kuroo with you, you’d be fine for the weekend. “Here, I opened the trunk for you but please be careful with my suit. Oh and I have something for you when we get in the car.” Placing your bag and dress in the trunk, you then start to get in the passenger's seat waiting to see what Kuroo got you. “So, yesterday I realized we had to raise the stakes a bit to make this more believable, so I bought you this.” He pulls out an ornate necklace that has a letter K on it, showing you proudly with a wide smile. “Kuroo, where did you get this? Oh my god, I’m going to be sick, this is too much for me to accept. Why did you buy this for just a weekend? Are you crazy?”.

 Kuroo cuts off your ramblings by placing a hand on yours, “You’re a bridesmaid, everyone’s going to be looking at you. I wanted to show them you’re mine, even if it’s for the weekend. Plus now it’ll be more realistic, if anyone asks we can say it was an anniversary present. Now, let's not puke in my car over a gift, if it makes you feel better I kept the receipt so when this is over I can return it okay?” You nod feeling relieved before turning around so he could put it on you. What you didn’t know was that the receipt was thrown in the trash long ago, nowhere to be found. As you turn around to show the necklace to Kuroo, you notice his flushed appearance before he’s asking permission to touch the necklace lying flatly on your neck. You agree, he carefully touches the K charm as you notice him staring at the necklace then glancing back up to you, making sure your eyes lock on each other for a moment. “Beautiful.” he speaks for a moment, suddenly clearing his throat looking away to face forward, “it’s beautiful.” you feel your face heating up but decide to look at the road to distract your mind.

 “Thank you Kuroo.” he flaps his hand, “It’s nothing princess.”, you scoff. “No really Kuroo, thank you. For the necklace, the past week, and for coming with me. Today when I came down to meet you I didn’t feel nervous at all, I think your presence makes me feel at ease and like I can face anything.” Kuroo takes a quick look at you to see you looking down with a flushed face before interlocking you guys’ hands together “That’s what I’m here for bunny. Now lay back, don’t think I didn’t see how exhausted you looked coming down. It’s going to be a long drive anyway.” You squeeze his hand before looking in his direction to send him a drowsy smile, dozing off.

Kuroo shakes you awake to tell you that you guys made it to the hotel successfully, you start to unbuckle yourself before Kuroo stops you. “Hey, before we get off I just want to say one thing,” he grabs your face with both of his hands “you better not forget that I’m here for you and only you. If at any time it gets too much let me know. Remember no hiding feelings.” You take his hands in yours to pull them off your face before nodding your head and getting out of Kuroo’s car. Kuroo takes that as a sign that your mental battery is already draining, opening the trunk letting you both grab your luggages. “Let me do all the talking at the hotel, you can stay by me just in case you run into your family.” Kuroo successfully gets checked in and you successfully watch him do that without encountering any of your family members. 

 As you both head up to your hotel room Kuroo notices you rubbing your eyes, “You still tired sweetheart? When we get to our room you can lay down, dinner isn’t till later anyway.”, you nod in agreement as you both walk towards your room. However entering the hotel room you felt like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water on you, immediately waking you up. Facing a singular king bed in the middle of the room,“Okay, well safe to say I’ll be taking the floor and you can take the bed princess. I’ll go ask the receptionist for another blanket, just lay down while I go run this trip real quick.”. Even though Kuroo told you to lay down you couldn’t help but feel guilt eating away at you, first you drag him to come to your family event, then you made him drive, and now you’re forcing him to sleep on the floor? 

 As you’re mentally debating with yourself, Kuroo soon enters the room to be met with you sitting down on the bed wide awake in a daze, “You don’t feel tired anymore bunny? Don’t tell me you want to switch because I’ll happily take the bed.”. Before you could speak Kuroo then abruptly jumped on the bed next to you smirking “ Kuroo! I was about to say I feel bad for you but you know what sleep on the floor.” You lay down turning over but Kuroo lays his head on your shoulder looking over at you pleadingly. You quickly look away, “Anyways before you rudely interrupted me, I was actually thinking that we could sleep together…on the same bed with some space.”. Kuroo smiles “Okay sweetheart, I’ll put the pillows in between us so that way you’re not uncomfortable.” Kuroo lifts himself off you to then start placing pillows in between you guys, “There you go, pillows placed and now I’ll set the alarm clock to 5:00 pm, so that way we’ll have time to get ready. Now, let’s sleep together on the same bed with some space!” Kuroo laughs, knowing he’s poking fun at you, you turn around huffing, deciding to ignore him and attempt to sleep before dinner. 

 Thirty minutes pass by and you hear Kuroo snoring, deciding that you aren't going to fall asleep anytime soon, you get up from the bed deciding to kill time by texting Kenma and Alisa. Only for you to realize that you left your phone in Kuroo’s car, getting up to retrieve Kuroo’s keys you start heading down. However, it seemed like the world was against you because as soon as you step off the elevator you’re met with your father talking to the hotel receptionist while your mother looks around. As you start to walk the opposite way, you hear none other than your mother’s shrill voice. “Honey, don’t be rude, say hi to us.” you lift your hand to wave but still stay silent “Well, where’s this plus one you were talking about with your sister? Wait, let me guess he canceled at the last minute or he couldn’t make it due to a cold?” You dig your nails into your palms “No mom, he is actually sleeping right now. I just came down to get my phone from his car.” Your mother looks you up and down suspiciously before your father interrupts her. “How forgetful of you, I thought I taught you better. First not properly greeting us and now forgetting your phone in your boy friends car?”. You cut him off before he could talk anymore about Kuroo, “No need for the space father, he’s my boyfriend.” 

 Both look at you stunned with your sudden imprudence, “Let’s hope this “boyfriend” of yours is very retentive seeing he’ll need to make up for your lack of memory. Nonetheless, I’ll let you get to it, be safe dear. We’ll see you at dinner.” Wasting no time to say any closing remarks you head off to your original destination, Kuroo’s car. As soon as you open the passengers side you see the phone that caused you so much trouble to retrieve. You pick it up and start heading back to the room not even caring about what you originally intended to do with it. As you open the door to your room, you make sure to close the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Kuroo before moving to carefully sit onto the bed and find safety in your room. As you're slouchy sitting down, you realize you felt more exhausted than ever due to the overwhelming amount of thoughts in your head after your interaction with your mother, “What happened?”, Kuroo’s hoarse sleep-voice pauses every thought playing in your head. “I went down to your car to get my phone.” “Alone?” you nod your head slowly. “I don’t need you to say anything. I already paid for the consequences…I ran into my parents in the lobby and both think I’m making you up. Not only do they think that I’m incapable but they also think I'm aloof because I “forgot” to say hi to them properly.” 

 You know Kuroo is listening due to the lack of snoring but you can’t see him so you start picking up the pillow border to move them out of the way. As soon as you lift the final pillow you’re met with Kuroo’s face being scrunched due to intense concentration. “Kuroo, can you…”, his face softens. While you hesitate knowing that this is new territory you have yet to cross, “Can you hug me, even it’s just for a while.”. After you finish your sentence you look up to see Kuroo opening his arms up to you, you make your way up to Kuroo before seeking comfort in his warmth. Realizing you just needed him in this moment for nothing else around you to matter. Kuroo kisses the top of your head “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll show them at dinner just how real I am to make them regret their words.”

  Recharging your social battery by cuddling Kuroo was not something you expected to happen today but you guess desperate times call for desperate measures. After preparing to be a fake couple with Kuroo, it was now time to make it a convincing reality. At the start of the two weeks you would have thought it to be a challenge, getting along with Kuroo. Now walking hand in hand with him to the rehearsal dinner, you scoff at your past self. The instant you walk into the rehearsal dinner, you’re met with lingering gazes on you and Kuroo which is to be expected. I mean you really weren’t typically known for being in a relationship, especially with someone like Kuroo. Kuroo squeezes your hand before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Remember we’re in this together.”. He then guides you to your seats, which are right next to your sister and her fiancé. 

Getting closer to your sister you feel alleviated knowing she wouldn’t pester you or bother Kuroo with offhanded questions like your parents likely would. “Hey little sis, long time no see.” your sister suddenly pulls you into a hug before pulling back and looking behind you, “Who is this little sis? He’s very handsome, I taught you well!For a moment I thought your plus one was going to be Kenma!”. Laughing along with her quietly you quickly feel Kuroo pull your arm softly, “This is Kuroo, he’s my boyfriend.” your hands suddenly feel clammy introducing Kuroo as your boyfriend but the moment  you shared soon turned sour. “Pinch me, I’m dreaming,” a harsh voice interrupts, “did I just hear her say boyfriend? My daughter finally has a boyfriend after all these years!”. Even though some might mistake your mothers tone of voice as excitement, you knew all too well she meant it backhandedly. 

 Kuroo locks your hands together again “I never get sick of hearing that come from her. She always gets so flustered, it’s adorable. Don’t you think so?” He looks over at you after speaking before pulling your hand up to his lips placing a quick kiss to the back of your hand, “I heard from my love here that you guys met earlier in the hotel? I apologize for my absence. I had been driving all morning, you know how tiring that is.” Kuroo says as your parents turn wide eyed knowing you told Kuroo about your bump in. Your sister interrupts to quickly greet your parents so she can leave to go greet her other guests, leaving an awkward silence. Your father stares at you and Kuroo before raising a brow in Kuroo’s direction, “Well Mr. Kuroo, since we didn’t have the pleasure of meeting this afternoon, care to tell me more about how you met my daughter?” Kuroo chuckles before you cut him off “Dad, let’s not do this right now please. It’s not my day, it’s my sisters.”, knowing he’ll take this as an opportunity to ask belligerent questions.

 Unfortunately your discomfort doesn’t stop his persistence. “Well, I’m just asking? Can't your father be a little curious about who his little girl is dating?” Kuroo rubs his thumb over your hand “She’s reserved, you know? Nothing bad about that, we don’t feel the need to flaunt our relationship. I will tell you this though, I remember when we first met like it was yesterday. My first impressions of her was that she was such a kind and vibrant soul.”. Kuroo gets interrupted by your father, “Yes, she gets her kindness from me, I’m so glad to have raised such a kind girl.”, you roll your eyes at your father,  knowing the facade he’s putting on for Kuroo. “When we met she had just moved in with Kenma, of course he needed help with moving boxes due to how much streaming equipment he has. Being the caring person she is, she decided to volunteer to help us. Even though Kenma and I could’ve done it ourselves, she’s persistent.” 

 Realizing he’s not sticking to the plan, he’s telling the story of how you guys actually met. “At the time, I didn’t know her but thought she was sweet because Kenma mentioned her to me a handful of times saying that she always helped him with technical issues and streaming ideas. However, as soon as we started moving boxes she and I both had accidently reached for the same box bumping our heads together. She was so red that you would think it was permanent and I couldn’t help but think how adorable she looked blushing violently. When she stood up, she stood so quickly that she ended up tumbling over more boxes behind her.”. Now Kuroo laughs, recalling how strangely captivating you were that day to him. However, for once it didn’t feel like he was laughing at you, which most people tend to do. “To this day, if you ask her how we met she’ll decline telling you. She thinks it’s embarrassing but if you were to ask me I would say that day she stumbled her way wholly into my heart.” Kuroo looks over to you still rubbing your hand, before you lean onto his shoulder smiling, you’re so going to kill him later. 

 Your mother coughs, “Isn’t that adorable? Speaking of Kenma, where is he honey? No offense to Mr. Kuroo here but I thought you’d be with him. You know, spread some generational wealth to our family like your sister.” Kuroo feels you freeze. “What does Kuroo here even do? If you don't mind me asking?” your father asks before staring at Kuroo, his eyes widen at your fathers thoughtless remarks. Even though you’d allow your parents to walk all over you, you would never let them do that to Kuroo. “Does it matter what his profession is, dad? He makes me happy and that’s all that should matter to you. You know, I’ve put up with you for a long time demeaning me but I will not let you sit here and demean my boyfriend. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to go head to the ladies room.” 

 Just as you get to the hallway, you feel someone grab your hand, only to be met with your father. “I’m sorry if your mother and I offended you but you cannot act like this at your sister's dinner. It’s your sister's moment and you’re acting like a brat, I raised you better than that.” You look at your father in disbelief, feeling anger blooming within your chest, wanting to lash out and create a scene but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Excuse me, I need a moment to speak with my girlfriend please.” You and your father look to see Kuroo behind you guys, “If I were you, I’d talk some real sense into her. She should be ashamed of herself, creating such a spectacle at her own sister’s rehearsal dinner. Now you understand why she’s been single for so long, acting like a little girl.” Kuroo blocks out what your father is saying to see you clenching your fists so hard that your hands are losing color, looking up at your glossy eyes to see them devoid of any life and replaced with dullness. 

 “I’ve heard enough, sir. Give us a moment.” Kuroo snaps at your father making him leave swiftly as he glances back at you scoffing in disappointment. As soon as he leaves Kuroo gives you the keys to his car, telling you to go while he explains to your sister that you’ll both be leaving for the night. While handing you his keys he sees the nail marks imprinted harshly on your palms making note to care for those later. “Tell my sister I’m so sorry, please.” Kuroo angled his head downward to see you holding the keys tightly while trying not to cry, expressing your apologies to your sister. “I’ll let her know bunny, now go quickly.” Kuroo walked you to the door so that way you had no chance running into your parents, making sure that what just happened never happens again.

 “Hey, what’s up Kuroo? Did something happen?” Kuroo sends your sister a sympathetic smile. “Your sister and I are leaving a little early tonight. She’s not feeling too well but she sends her deepest regards.” Your sister sends Kuroo a knowing look, “Tell her that I'm not mad at her. I know our parents can be…crazy and that’s putting it lightly, if she needed to get away that’s fine. Actually, thank you for being with her tonight, Kuroo. Now, I think she needs you more than ever.” Your sister then waves off Kuroo. Heading to you, he sees you in the car messing with your hands guiltily. “She wasn’t upset with you bunny. She empathized with you, saying she knew how your parents could be.” That helped you breathe clearer, lifting some heavy weight off your chest, feeling safe and sound in this moment with Kuroo.

 Entering your hotel room, Kuroo takes your hand in his and guides you to sit down on the bed. Giving you some much needed space, shortly leaving the room to change. Alone with your thoughts, you think how bad things would be if Kuroo wasn’t here. Yet him getting belittled because he was associated with you was where you drew the line. How much farther could your parents go before Kuroo’s mental state starts slowly chipping away too. Cursing yourself for even letting your parents get a rise out of you infront of Kuroo, body heavy with disappointment. Now feeling embarrassment crash over you, wanting nothing more to shed the skin of your actions today and get out of this tight dress. You go to grab a wire hanger hoping that you could take off this dress the same way you put it on. 

 Kuroo walks out of the bathroom dressed in his pajamas to see you fishing the zipper on your dress with a hanger, “Sweetheart? You know you could’ve just asked me to unzip it for you right?”, you turn around stumbling back. “Kuroo, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t do that again.”, you place a hand on your chest before turning back around, “Then can you just unzip it for me please?”. Kuroo’s eyes bulge out of his head, shaking his head wanting to clear his thoughts, “Sure, don’t have to ask me twice princess.”. As Kuroo closely approaches, you start moving your hair to your left shoulder, Kuroo successfully unzips your dress then proceeds to press a light kiss to your shoulder. “I’m sorry about today sweetheart, I should’ve gone after you but your father beat me to it. To be honest with you, their words kind of shocked me.”. 

 He hugs you from behind, laying his head on your shoulder, his hands softly placed on your waist, “I never once felt insecure about my job but hearing them bring it up like I was some peasant not worthy of you, made me question myself…I thought if this is how I feel from one comment, then you must feel awful dealing with this your whole life. I’m so sorry bunny.” Listening to Kuroo you couldn’t help but feel emotional, knowing how emotionally burnt out you are just from one day with them. Kuroo sensed something was off as soon as he saw your shoulders sag, “Princess? Are you okay?”. Deciding to swallow your pride you turn to face Kuroo. Crying blurred some of your vision but the look of concern on his face still came through for you. Feeling undeserving of any kind of empathy, “Kuroo, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you here, I didn’t know they would go this far. It’s all my fault for dragging you into this.” 

 Kuroo grabs your hands while stepping back shocked to see your weeping face, “My love…no, it’s not your fault! If I didn’t come and heard you over Kenma’s phone crying I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. I would’ve drove all the way over here just to come get you bunny. Even if you didn’t want to come with me. I would’ve thrown you over my shoulder and forced you back home.” You weakly laugh picturing Kuroo angrily driving for two hours just to come get you. He turns over your palms to see the indents of your nails still there as he caresses the marks, “Go get changed princess, you had a long day.”. Agreeing, you head to the bathroom before changing and getting rid of every bad memory that happened today. When you return you’re met with Kuroo on the phone speaking to someone, laying down next to him on your shared bed just to decompress. “Yeah, thanks for your help. I’ll tell her to call you tomorrow. Bye Kenma.” You look over at Kuroo, “What were you guys talking about?” Kuroo pulls you into his chest. 

 “Nothing, just asking him for some advice.” He starts pulling your palms up to his lips before giving them soft kisses, you pull back scrunching in disgust, “Don’t, my palms are going to be all clammy.”. He grins, grabbing you to tightly hug, “You’re very strong for enduring that your whole life, my strong bunny.” he pets your head. “Tomorrow will be better, I promise. Let’s go to sleep, we have a long day ahead of us.”

You woke up lying next to Kuroo the following day, seeing the sunlight peek through the blinds behind him. Illuminating him beautifully, you run your hands across his face softly. “Good morning princess.” You stop your hand after seeing Kuroo stare at you, “Morning, Tetsu.”. Truth be told, Kuroo was awake before you but didn’t want to get up, longing in the feeling that was waking up next to you. You get up and stretch, making sure to tell Kuroo your busy schedule today. “Let’s go drop you off, my beautiful bridesmaid.”, you roll your eyes at his remark. Starting to head off to the venue to meet with your sister and her other bridesmaids.               

 “Text me if you need anything, I’ll let you know when I'm heading over here, okay?” Kuroo looks at you one more time as if this is the last time he’s going to see you. “I’ll be away from you for only a couple of hours, drama queen.” Before getting off you peck Kuroo on the cheek and head into the venue. It wasn’t till you got into the venue you realized the severity of your actions, embarrassed but immediately receiving a text from Kuroo. “Goodbye to you too sweetheart x”

 Spending the first half of your day getting dolled up to be in your sister’s wedding was chaotic. When Kuroo texted you he was on his way to the venue you knew it was almost showtime. “You look beautiful. I’m so happy for you.” You look behind you to see your sister, “I could say the same thing to you, it’s the fairytale wedding you’ve always dreamed for. It’s your big day.”. You both hug before being interrupted by the photographers letting you know that it was time to take pictures. “Who knows maybe next time I’ll be the bridesmaid to you and Kuroo’s wedding.”, she playfully nudges you before heading to the photographer. “What!”

 As you’re taking pictures you see your mother, she calls you and your sister wanting to take a picture with you both. You make sure that you put on a good fake smile even though you didn’t forgive her or your father for yesterday. Wrapping up the pictures, your mother pulls you aside. “Well, look who it is? You know, your father and I were very upset that you left so rudely.”, realizing that you’ve done this for far too long you stand your ground. “Mother, I appreciate all you’ve done for me in my life but I’m not going to accept this anymore. First you verbally break me down but now you’re attempting to take down my boyfriend with me? How far are you willing to go before you realize this act is pathetic. After this wedding, you cut all contact with me. Unless it’s an emergency or you’d like to apologize for your behavior, don’t bother. Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to walk back in there and put on a smile like a mature woman, you should do that too. Not for me but for her.”. You point to your sister before walking back inside, only thinking of Kuroo yesterday telling you how strong you were. 

 Hearing the quartet start to play the music, you realized the time has come. Your sister is finally getting her big beautiful moment. Marching down the aisle you head over to the spot your sister assigned you looking around afterwards. Spotting Kuroo he smirks, shyly waving to you. You look down, trying to lessen your smiling afterwards looking right back up. Kuroo catches your attention again before you see him mouthing that you look breathtaking. At this moment everyone disappears and it’s just you and him, your heart speeds up. Lost in each other's gaze you hear the quartet stop signaling your sister's arrival, you look at her and can only think of how beautiful she looks but Kuroo’s gaze never left you. 

 At the very moment, your sister got down the aisle you couldn’t help but feel tears fill your eyes. The preacher starts his speech while you look over at Kuroo. “Love is patient, love is kind.” Kuroo’s smile reaches his eyes, you feel a flutter in your stomach. “It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Keeping eye contact, your heart stops, the flutter in your stomach feels like it’s going feral, and your hands are clammy. Kuroo is the only person to have ever made you feel that way, safe and hopeful. Kuroo is the most kind individual you knew and was always patient with you, you feel your knees get weak. Do you like Kuroo?

  Your thoughts get cut off by everyone clapping at your sister and her fiance, you slowly start clapping, joining her other bridesmaids. Watching the newlywed couple start walking down together, people follow as you stay behind going crazy. You can’t like Kuroo but you still have to put on an act with him to shut your parents up. Kuroo and you being the only ones left in the venue he comes up to you taking your hand in his. “Shall we go to the reception my lady?”, Kuroo playfully bows in your direction. You chuckle before interlocking your arms together, “We shall.”.

 Arriving at the reception Kuroo feels that something with you is off, your eyes were always avoiding him and when he tries to hold your hand you flinch away. “Hey bunny, are you ok?”, you jump at the feeling of Kuroo’s breath near your ear, “Yeah, I’m totally fine. Just on edge because of family and what not”. Making up a fake lie was all you could do in this situation, feeling guilty for breaking you and Kuroo’s pact to not keep anything from each other. Kuroo gets up, your eyes follow him, “Well in that case, then let’s go dance.”. Your hands feel clammy as Kuroo offers his hands to you, waving yours back in rejection. “Ah no, I don’t know how to dance.”, Kuroo smiles in retaliation, “Then I’ll teach you, it’s not that hard anyway sweetheart.”. He grabs your hand lifting you in one go while dragging you to the dance floor.

 Kuroo places his hand on your waist and the other interlocking with yours, following you interlock hands and place the other on his shoulder. Looking down at his feet making sure to not step on them, Kuroo lifts your face up to him. “Don’t focus on your feet princess, keep your eyes on me.”, you nod mesmerized by him. He starts leading, swaying slowly back and forth, “See it’s easy, sweetheart. It’s just you and me here bunny, only focus on me.” , fascinated by Kuroo. He was right, in that moment it was just you and him. Every worry vanished, you didn’t notice your parents looking at you two or your aunts gossiping about you, it was just Kuroo helping you sway to the music. “I mean what I said earlier by the way, you look beautiful princess. I mean don’t get me wrong, you look gorgeous everyday but today bunny. You just have this fascinating glow to you. It’s like I can’t take my eyes off of you, you’re so captivating.” Your palms start sweating, hearing the music stop you break away from Kuroo abruptly. “Sorry, thank you for the dance Kuroo.”, wiping your sweaty palms you start to head back to your table feeling dizzy. Not realizing your parents sat themselves at your table, sitting down trying to look for Kuroo in the crowd. 

 Finally finding him near the refreshments, letting out a breath of relief. “So, got anything to say about yesterday young lady?” you freeze just barely noticing your parents at your table. You start to turn around feeling the fear comeback into you facing your father. “No, actually I have nothing to say and I’d prefer if we don’t talk about this here.”, trying to be the mature person in this situation. Your dad crosses his arms, “It’s just like you to walk away, you know you talked a big game to your mother but now you have nothing to say to me?”. Feeling your throat burn you start to pick at your fingers starting to speak before getting interrupted.

 “No matter what title you have to her, that doesn’t allow you to speak to her that way? A father should never speak to their daughter that way. Instead of trying to celebrate your other daughter’s beautiful wedding, here you are trying to make it about yourself. Excuse us, we're going to go ahead and sit somewhere else.” Kuroo places your drinks down before grabbing your hands and guiding you to another table. “I’m sorry bunny, I went to go get refreshments for us cause you seemed flushed after dancing but trouble seems to follow you anywhere you, huh?”, Kuroo tries lightening the mood but you still feel frozen by the tone your father displayed. Noticing how you weren’t letting up he decided to pull you away from the party entirely, gently caressing your face. “Sweetheart, look at me.”, he slowly starts swaying you just like before. 

 Laying your head on his shoulder you start swaying hearing music faintly playing in the background, “It’s just us remember. I’m here now.”. Kuroo’s lips gently graze your forehead as your vision feels blurry and you feel hot tears welling up. “Kuroo, can we go back to the hotel?”, he nods as you pull him to his car, not wanting to spend another minute near your parents. Driving to the hotel looking at the window you realized, your parents sucked at wanting to be parents. Being their daughter you always tried to make excuses for them but seeing how they treated Kuroo, it finally clicked for you that your relationship with them wasn’t worth the mental gymnastics. “Kuroo, do you talk to your parents?” Kuroo nods, feeling bad for not being able to provide the answer you wanted. “I do, I’m not going to lie to you though our relationship isn’t perfect but it’s not borderline damaging like your relationship with your parents. No offense.” You laugh, “No offense taken, It’s just sad to me that my parents don’t really feel like my parents. I can’t justify our relationship anymore, especially after everything they put you through. I just have to accept that my parents are not willing to change. Man, I need a drink after the day I’ve had.”

Heading out to the hotel bar, you and Kuroo decide to hangout before heading up to you guys’ hotel. Just getting a soda to drink, prematurely deciding that anything alcoholic will mess up your mental state even more. “Thank you Kuroo. We did it! The weekend is over!” You cheer with Kuroo before taking a sip of your drink. “This weekend was rough but you made it easier.” Kuroo leans on the bar smiling, picking at the tab on his soda can, “Well sweetheart, with you by me anything is easy.”. Suddenly feeling daring, you lean forward deciding to tease Kuroo the way he teases you, “Are you saying I’m easy Tetsu? That’s so mean of you to say to a girl who’s already down.”. Kuroo laughs leaning into you, “Bunny, we both know you’re anything but easy, more like troublesome.”  

 Kuroo leans down playing with the K charm on your necklace that lays on top of the nape of your neck as his gaze travels up to your face. Your breath hitches, knowing that your conversation just took a left turn, “Your friends wouldn’t describe you as troublesome, no?”. You shake your head, “Then what does that make me bunny?” You feel your heart pounding in your chest, “Tell me then sweetheart, tell me you want to be with me and I’ll drop everything to be with you. I’ve been telling you, "It was always you”, only you bunny.” Kuroo is only centimeters away from your parting lips. You feel his eyes locked on yours while your breath quickens, his fragrant musky cologne overtakes all your senses, and even though your desire to touch his lips with yours is strong, you hesitate.

“This is a mistake.” You whisper before pulling away abruptly, his fingers accidentally breaking the chain he bought you. You knew Alisa wanted him and what kind of friend would you be to take that from her, what kind of friend are you to even joke around like that? Deciding to pull away from Kuroo meant keeping your friendship with Alisa, knowing that she’d be heartbroken if she even knew you had any sort of feelings for Kuroo. “You’re right, this was.” Kuroo’s warmth is now gone and replaced with an ice-cold wall of rejection. He pulls away shaking his head and avoiding your eyes, “I’m heading back to our hotel room, since it’s the last night I think I’ll just take the floor.”, you sit up knowing you shouldn’t leave Kuroo alone but fearing what will happen if you convince him to stay. 

 Quickly contemplating the options in your head but your feet feel glued to the floor and a deafening silence hits your ears. You felt naive for allowing yourself to have feelings for Kuroo knowing he was never yours, you felt numb to the outside world. How could you do this to him, you hurt the only person who stuck out their neck to protect you. Not only did you hurt him but you also hurt Alisa, you felt like a terrible person. Not realizing you were in public till you heard people laughing near you, you felt heavy with negative thoughts consuming you. You quickly fix yourself before heading up to your hotel room. 

 Approaching the hotel room, you are met with light peeking out from under the door in the hotel hallway. Your chest felt like it was on fire, how could you go in there and act like everything was fine? You wished you could just start everything over from the beginning and profusely beg Kenma to come with you instead, never even considering asking Kuroo. Maybe even ignoring the invitation altogether and telling your sister you came down with some terrible food poisoning. Mid thought, the door abruptly opens but you can’t even tell because your slouched figure is on the nearest wall covering your face deep in thought. Kuroo stands still thinking about his next actions before shakily telling you that he’ll see you in the morning to drop you off at your apartment. You nodded, still stuffing your face in your hands because your throat felt too heavy to talk and you felt too ashamed to show your face. 

 Kuroo lingered longer than he expected wanting to hear you explain yourself but nothing progressed. Instead of saying anything, you finally let your hands fall to your side to be met with a blurry version of Kuroo’s silhouette. Just as you’re about to enter your shared hotel room, Kuroo suddenly grabs at your forearm. You stop becoming speechless at his actions wanting to grasp onto any words that’ll escape your mouth only to be met with nothing. He instead takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “If you need me for anything just text me, I’m going for a drive. I’m not mad at you… I just need some time.” You didn’t face him still looking forward as you nodded before retracting your hand and heading in. Hearing the door shut in place, you sit down on the edge of the bed taking shelter in your arms. Conflicted about what to do with yourself now that you were truly alone. You did the only thing that felt right in this moment, cry, because deep down you know it’s over. Whatever chance you had at an actual friendship with Kuroo is over. The wedding being over was no longer a relief because you knew trouble was just going to follow. 

 Feeling the burden of having to explain yourself to Kenma, who would most likely be mad at you for stupidly developing feelings for his best friend and Alisa, who probably wouldn’t want to be your friend knowing you're disloyal to her. Laying down you grab the blanket and pull it up over your head, shutting out the world. However, the blanket could never replace the amount of comfort Kuroo would provide you and you only have yourself to blame for that.

 The next morning you’re met with Kuroo packing up his belongings, “Morning.”. His voice devoid of any  playful emotion and missing the stupid pet names he calls you, your heart breaks. You lift yourself up before heading to the bathroom to take off all of yesterday’s remains. As you slip everything off you feel yourself remembering how good the day started just for it to end rotten. Washing your face, you hoped you would wake up and maybe this would all just go away like a bad dream but sadly it wasn’t. Facing the consequences of your actions you decide to go back out there. Packing your things away you feel your phone ring, deciding to silence it before seeing it was Kenma spam calling you. Looking around seeing Kuroo immersed in packing you decide to put your phone on do not disturb. “You ready?”, you turn around to see Kuroo packed, “Yeah.”. Picking up your things before heading out the hotel, this was going to be a long drive.

After your awkward drive with Kuroo, you knew exactly where he would be going and exactly where you couldn’t go. Knowing he’d end up venting to Kenma, you go where you knew Kuroo wouldn’t be. That’s how you end up knocking quietly on Alisa’s door in the early morning. She opens up to see your sunken and tired expression as you fall straight to the floor begging for forgiveness. Her eyes widened, “What happened, what did your family do to you and where’s Kuroo? How come he didn’t come up with you knowing you’re in this state, I’m going to kill him.” You silently look up to Alisa before covering your sobs with your hand and saying sorry. She looks down at you confused, while her brows furrow in concern. 

 “What are you saying sorry for honey? Are you ok, come in and tell me what happened.” Alisa pulled you into her apartment, you sat in silence waiting patiently to get yourself together before saying your explanation on the weekend and why you suddenly came to her declaring for forgiveness. Deciding to cut to the chase you close your eyes before explaining everything, “Kuroo tried to kiss me Lis and I pulled back because I didn’t have it in me. He’s yours, Lis. However, I would be lying to you If I said I didn’t have feelings for him and I’m so sorry.” Alisa stares blankly into space, “He tried to kiss you?”, you nod. “Alisa, what kind of friend would I be if I kissed him back and didn’t let you have a chance? I couldn’t live with myself If I took this opportunity from you.” Alisa chuckles and looks at me like you’ve overlooked key details.

 “You are so beautiful but yet so dense. What kind of friend would I be if I denied you an opportunity to be with someone who likes you? Answer me, do you like him?”. You looked at her then looked away afraid this would blow up in your face. “I guess? Maybe? I don’t know! When we started this I thought he was annoying but now he’s less annoying?”, not knowing what else to say about him without hurting her feelings. “Do you remember what I told you the day you came to ask me for permission to fake date him?”, you nod. “Well then, you should know that Kuroo is in fact not mine. Yes, I liked Kuroo but I now know he doesn’t feel the same way about me. However, I do know that he feels that way about you, so what are you going to do about it?”. 

 Your stomach felt like it was in knots, did you like Kuroo that much you were willing to take him away from Alisa? How do you know when you like someone? Was wanting to kiss him at the hotel an instinct or a moment of weakness? Thinking back to the weekend you realized just how much Kuroo influenced you, how his compliments started to linger on your mind for longer, or how you suddenly turned into a mess each time he engaged in physical contact with you. Holy crap, you liked Kuroo. Oh no, you liked Kuroo. You look up at Alisa who gives you a knowing look, “Go get him girl!”. Even though you wanted to make a big dramatic escape to Kuroo you knew it just wasn’t that simple, you dropped your head.

 Alisa looks at you questioningly, she thinks you didn’t hear her so she raises her voice a little. “Hello, I said go get him… why are you hesitating?” Your sigh fills the room, you don’t know what to say, you don’t know if there’s anything left to say. “I messed up badly, what am I supposed to say? Hey Kuroo, I know I said almost kissing you was a mistake but now I suddenly realized I like you. Kuroo doesn’t deserve backpedaling. Plus, we didn’t talk the whole way home! What do you think that means? I hate you.“ Alisa cuts you off before you can talk for another 30 minutes. “Look, if he really liked you he wouldn’t be over you in the span of a day! I’ll give you two days here before I drag you to his apartment myself. So get yourself mentally prepared to talk to him, okay?”

 I’m heading home, is what you text Kenma before putting your phone on, do not disturb, not wanting to hear him nag at you for avoiding him. It takes you a while to pick up all your belongings due to your hesitance. Alisa notices, “Ok, I’m about to start throwing all your stuff in your bag. I told you two days, not two decades, what’s taking you so long to pack? Didn’t you already tell Kenma that you were on your way?” Alisa glances over at you slumped on her bed. “I’m just mentally getting ready for Kenma to get upset at me, you know how territorial he is when it comes to Kuroo. On top of that, he’s scary when he’s mad. Usually people yell and argue but Ken just gets silent and stares at you disappointedly.” As soon as Alisa starts laughing you both hear a knock on her door. Glancing at each other, deciding to tiptoe to the door. She glances out the peephole to see Kuroo, gasping she whispers to go to her room. You signal an ok as you quietly but quickly make a run to her room.

 She opens the door to see Kuroo in a distressed looking state, “Hey Kuroo, what’s up?”. “Alisa I need your help, I know (y/n) was just here but how was she before she took off? Was she upset, did she mention being upset at me?”, Alisa had never seen Kuroo like this. Even in high school when he played big tournaments he always stayed peaceful. She quickly thought how he must really like you if you have him this distressed. You were listening to Kuroo ramble from Lis’ room and for once you felt like you were listening to yourself speak. “She’s actually still here, she hasn’t left yet.”, your heart drops, “Come on out! I’ll leave you guys to it, let me know when this is all over.” With that you hear the door click and footsteps heading towards Lis’ room.

 “Hello, anyone there?” Kuroo stops right in front of Alisa’s door before knocking softly, “I know you’re in there. Can you please open the door? I want to talk.” You hear Kuroo’s breath falter waiting for your response before you open the door letting him in. You guys look at each other before breaking the silence, “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out Kuroo, I didn’t want to seem pushy. Especially if you felt that you needed more time.”. Kuroo laughs bitterly, “Do you ever intend to put yourself first?”. You felt your heart stop, “Excuse me?”, you didn’t know if this was a fever dream or if Kuroo was really trying to reprimand you. “Kenma filled me in, he told me why he thinks you didn’t kiss me back. I want you to tell me the truth, is it because of Alisa’s feelings or is it because you don’t like me?”

 Kuroo knows the answer but he wants to hear you say it. Kuroo grabs your fidgeting hands, “Please bunny, tell me. If you don’t like me I’ll walk away, never bother you again. If you do like me then I need to hear it from you.”. He hears you take a deep breath, anticipation building up in him. “I didn’t want to hurt Alisa. Even if I did like you, knowing I would betray Alisa would hurt me more. I’m sorry but I need you to understand that.”, a silence looms over you two. “What about what you wanted? What about what Alisa would want for you?”Kuroo has you thinking about what you wanted for once but not being selfish enough to take it. 

 You stare at your hands interlocking, “You aren’t supposed to be with someone like me. The weekend we shared validated that answer, whether it be my parents dragging me down or even my own expectations limiting me. If you’re associated with me, I fear that I’ll just bring you down. Alisa has a beautiful family, a great job, and everything you need to live a happy life. I don’t deserve you.”, Kuroo’s heart shatters with each dig you throw at yourself. “Sweetheart, look at me.” You stare at Kuroo seeing that his eyes are watering, “Ever since you clumsily stumbled into my life you have possessed every single one of my thoughts, I wasn’t lying to you.” He places his face near yours.

 “I know that asking to be with you, is asking for all of you, all of your family troubles, your bad days, and even your nagging roommate.”, you chuckle, now tearing up with him. “That also means I get quiet mornings waking up next to you, being able to come home to you after a long day, and just being with you, no one else. You fill the holes in my heart that are shaped after you, and hold my heart in the palm of your hands. I never want you to feel like you have to earn me, you are good enough just as you are sweetheart. I don’t only want the good parts, I’ll be by you through the bad parts too. We’re in this together and I never intend to break that promise bunny.”, you shyly smile. No one has ever talked to you in such a caring manner that wasn’t meant to be taken platonically. “I really, really want to kiss you Tetsu.” You lean into Kuroo still feeling doubtful. “Okay, I’m all yours.”, you quickly kiss him, seizing the opportunity he gave you. 

 You both start getting lost in the feeling of kissing each other, relishing in how quiet your mind was, thoughts buried in the thought of how plush Kuroo’s lips felt. You never wanted this feeling to stop, Kuroo pulls away from you, still close enough to pull you back in. “I guess this trip brought you a new boyfriend, huh?”, you pause laughing for a moment remembering back to the cafe. “You’re such a nerd Tetsu.”, you look down to his lips wanting to kiss away his cocky smirk. “Oh, you forgot this at the hotel by the way, clumsy girl”, you looked at him in concern before seeing the K necklace, shocked. “I made sure to fix it for you, I can’t have my baby wearing it broken now, can I?”, he smirks looking at you. You turn around letting him lay the necklace down, clasping it together. “You know how I said I kept the receipt?”, you nod, “Well I kinda lied about that.” You turn around slowly, “Kuroo Tetsuro, how much did you spend on this? What if I had said no to your confession?” He grabs your face close to his smirking, “Well good thing I already said I’m all yours sweetheart.”, kissing you softly relishing in the thought that you both belong to each other.

divider credit to @/anitalenia and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: please enjoy, this is my first long fic and i hope you love it! inbox is open if you have any comments!! kuroo is slowly becoming my fav character!! 🐈‍⬛

[novaursa]

hiiii how are you?

I can’t stop thinking about Aemond twin sister who was also sent to Oldtown and fell in love with Gwayne.

She came back with him to King’s Landing and her mother is like pist at her. When Gwayne and Criston go to battle she follow them on Cannibal to make sure that nothing happens to him. She got injure in the fight again Meleys and Gwayne can leave her side 🥹

The Crimson Sky

- Summary: When Gwayne was ordered to go to Rook’s Rest, you followed him.

- Paring: niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: To read more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

- A/N: Request that I've received for Aemond should be out soon too, as it pretty much similar to this one. So, I've just made them simuntaniusly.

The echoes of footsteps reverberated through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, a haunting sound that mirrored the unease in Alicent Hightower's heart. She stood at the edge of the window in her private chambers, overlooking the sprawling city of King's Landing. The city was restless, much like her own soul, as if it sensed the storm that was brewing both within and beyond the castle walls. 

The letter from Oldtown lay open on the table beside her, the ink still fresh with words that brought both relief and dread. Her brother, Gwayne Hightower, was riding toward King's Landing with a force of Hightower knights, bolstering the Green cause in their struggle against the Blacks. And with him, her daughter, her sweet girl—though hardly a girl anymore—who had been sent to Oldtown all those years ago.

"She returns with Gwayne," Alicent murmured to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper. The notion should have filled her with joy. But the rumors... those insidious whispers that had even managed to penetrate the walls of the Red Keep, refused to be silenced.

The door creaked open behind her, and Alicent did not need to turn to know who it was. The scent of parchment and ink preceded him, along with the stern, unyielding presence that had always defined him. Otto Hightower, her father, the Hand of the King, stepped into the room, his expression as inscrutable as ever.

"I take it you have heard the news," Otto said, his voice measured, betraying nothing of the emotion that Alicent knew he was capable of.

"Yes," she replied, finally turning to face him. "Gwayne is coming with her."

Otto inclined his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. "It is as we had hoped. Reinforcements from Oldtown will be invaluable in the coming days."

Alicent's gaze drifted back to the letter, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the edge of the parchment. "But at what cost?" she asked, her voice low, almost trembling. "The rumors, Father... they say things—unspeakable things about Gwayne and her. About my daughter."

Otto's expression darkened, and he stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Idle gossip," he said dismissively. "People will say anything to sow discord, especially in times of war. We must not let baseless rumors cloud our judgment."

Alicent looked up at him, her green eyes wide with worry. "But the nature of these rumors... it's not just idle talk. They say she and Gwayne... that they are more than uncle and niece, that they are lovers." The word fell from her lips like a curse, and she shuddered at the thought.

"Do you believe it?" Otto's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"I don't want to," Alicent replied, her voice breaking. "But she has been away from me for so long. And Gwayne... he has always been protective of her, ever since she arrived in Oldtown. I... I fear what may have happened in my absence."

Otto's hand tightened on her shoulder, almost to the point of pain. "Alicent," he said firmly, "You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by rumors. We must focus on the war, on securing the throne for Aegon. Your daughter's honor is not to be questioned based on the gossip of those who would see us fail."

Alicent nodded slowly, but her heart was heavy with doubt. She could not dismiss the images that filled her mind, of her daughter and her brother, together in ways that were forbidden, sinful. The thought of it made her stomach churn, and she had to close her eyes to keep from weeping. But there was something else, something that frightened her even more. Her daughter was bonded with Cannibal, the most fearsome and wild of the dragons, a creature that had never been tamed. What if the dragon’s nature had seeped into her very soul, making her reckless, uncontrollable?

"What if there is truth to it?" she whispered, the question hanging in the air like a specter.

Otto's expression softened, just a fraction, as he looked at his daughter. "If there is truth to it, then we will deal with it. But we must not act rashly. There are greater matters at stake here, Alicent. The realm needs stability, not scandal. We cannot afford to let this undermine everything we have worked for."

Alicent swallowed hard, trying to push down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. "I cannot bear the thought of her being shamed," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "She is my child, my daughter. I sent her away to protect her, and now... now it feels as if I have lost her."

"You have not lost her," Otto said firmly. "She is returning to you, to her family. We will welcome her back with the honor she deserves. And as for Gwayne... I will speak to him. If there is any truth to these rumors, he will answer to me."

Alicent nodded, though she found little comfort in his words. Her thoughts were a tangled web of fear, love, and suspicion. She had always known that the bonds of family were complex, but never had she imagined they could become so twisted, so dangerous.

"Father," she said softly, "What if Aemond finds out? He is... possessive of her, protective. If he were to believe these rumors..."

Otto's eyes flashed with concern, and he released her shoulder, stepping back as he considered her words. "We must ensure that Aemond does not hear of this. His temper is too volatile, and his love for her... it borders on obsession. We cannot allow him to be provoked."

Alicent nodded again, but the fear lingered. The thought of her son, her fierce, vengeful Aemond, reacting to such news filled her with dread. She could only pray that Gwayne and her daughter would arrive without incident, that the rumors would prove false, and that the family could focus on the war at hand. 

But as she stared out over the city once more, the uneasy feeling in her chest remained. The winds of war were blowing, carrying with them whispers of scandal and betrayal. And Alicent could only hope that her family would not be torn apart before the storm had passed.

The courtyard of the Red Keep was alive with activity, the clang of armor and the clatter of hooves echoing off the ancient stone walls as the gates swung open to welcome the Hightower forces. Banners bearing the sigil of House Hightower— the tower crowned with flames— fluttered in the wind, a proud sight that filled Alicent with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. These were her people, the kin she had left behind in Oldtown so many years ago. Yet the emotions churning within her were anything but simple.

Aemond stood beside her, his presence as imposing as ever. The hard line of his jaw and the cold fire in his eye spoke volumes of the impatience he could barely contain. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, as if daring anyone to provoke him. Alicent knew his thoughts well enough—he was eager to see his sister, his twin, and if the rumors that plagued Alicent’s mind held any truth, Aemond’s reaction might be the spark that ignited the wildfire. 

Otto Hightower stood on her other side, his expression carefully neutral, but Alicent knew him too well. He was watching, calculating, preparing for whatever might unfold in the moments to come. His eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of the approaching entourage.

Gwayne Hightower rode at the front of his men, his armor gleaming in the midday sun. There was an aura of confidence about him, the kind that only came with years of experience in both battle and court. His gaze met Alicent’s as he dismounted, and for a moment, there was nothing but the shared understanding between siblings—a connection forged long before they were drawn into the deadly game of thrones.

“Welcome, brother,” Alicent called, stepping forward with a smile that she hoped conveyed warmth rather than the anxiety gnawing at her insides. 

���Sister,” Gwayne replied, his voice deep and rich with a familiarity that eased some of the tension in her shoulders. He approached her, inclining his head in a respectful greeting. “It is good to see you after so long.”

“And you as well, Gwayne,” Alicent said, her voice softer now, more genuine. “We have missed you here at court.”

Gwayne’s eyes flickered to Aemond, who had not yet spoken. “Aemond,” he greeted with a nod, but there was no warmth in his tone, only the formality of recognition between two men who were not entirely certain where they stood with one another.

“Gwayne,” Aemond responded, his voice clipped, the tension in him palpable. His eye scanned the ranks of Hightower knights, as if searching for someone. “Where is she?”

Gwayne’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “She will be here soon, Aemond. The journey from Oldtown was long and wearying.”

Alicent noted the careful wording and stepped in before her son could press further. “You must be exhausted after such a journey, all of you. The King has ordered that you be well cared for—rooms have been prepared, and a feast will be held in your honor.”

Gwayne nodded, accepting her words with a grace that belied the tension she could sense in him. “We are grateful, my lady.”

There was a brief pause, the silence heavy between them. Alicent felt the weight of unspoken questions, the rumors lingering like a shadow over their reunion. She searched Gwayne’s face for any sign that might betray him, but he was as unreadable as ever.

“How has Oldtown fared in these troubled times?” Alicent asked, choosing her words with care, hoping to probe gently without drawing blood.

Gwayne’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he recognized the maneuver for what it was. “Oldtown remains strong, sister. The people are resilient, as they have always been. Daeron is well, a credit to our House. As for… other matters, all has been as it should be.”

The last words hung in the air, heavy with insinuation. Alicent caught the slight emphasis, the deliberate choice of words, and it set her on edge. Did he mean to reassure her, or to hide something more sinister? She could not tell.

Before she could press further, the sky above them darkened, and the unmistakable sound of massive wings beating the air filled the courtyard. A shadow passed over them, causing men to look up in awe and fear as a dragon circled above. But this was no ordinary dragon—this was Cannibal, the wild and ancient beast that had never been tamed, bonded only to her daughter.

The sight of the massive black dragon circling overhead sent a chill through Alicent. Cannibal was a fearsome creature, unpredictable and terrifying in its sheer size and ferocity. The fact that her daughter had bonded with such a beast had always unnerved Alicent, and now, seeing it here, so close to the Red Keep, that unease returned tenfold.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched the dragon’s descent. “It seems she has arrived,” he said, satisfaction coloring his tone.

Gwayne’s face was a study in conflicting emotions as he watched Cannibal. There was admiration, yes, but also a tension that Alicent did not miss. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought she saw something akin to fear in his eyes—fear not of the dragon, but of what its presence might signify.

The dragon circled once more before veering off toward the Dragonpit, its massive wings slicing through the air with a sound like thunder. Alicent released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her heart racing in her chest. She turned to Gwayne, watching him closely, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” she asked, her voice light, though her eyes were sharp as they fixed on his face.

Gwayne forced a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. “She is a sight to behold, indeed.”

Alicent could see the effort it took for him to maintain his composure, and it only deepened her concerns. “I trust that her presence has not caused too much trouble in Oldtown?” she ventured, testing the waters.

“None at all,” Gwayne replied, but the answer came too quickly, too smoothly. “Her dragon is as much a part of her as her blood, is it not?”

“Of course,” Alicent agreed, but her mind was racing. Gwayne’s tension was palpable now, and she could not shake the feeling that there was something more beneath the surface. The way he had watched Cannibal, the slight tremor in his voice—these were not signs of a man completely at ease.

Before she could delve deeper, the sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention. Ser Criston Cole, ever the vigilant protector, strode into the courtyard, flanked by a contingent of Kingsguard. Behind him, veiled but unmistakable in her presence, walked her daughter, the niece of Gwayne Hightower, and the twin sister of Aemond.

Alicent’s heart leapt at the sight of her daughter, so regal and composed, yet she could not help but notice the tension in her as well. There was something different about her, something that had changed in the years since they had last seen one another.

Aemond stepped forward, his eye locked on his twin, but it was Gwayne who drew Alicent’s attention. His gaze was fixed on her daughter as well, and in that moment, Alicent saw the truth in his eyes—a truth she had feared but could no longer deny.

There was more between them than simple kinship. It was there in the way Gwayne’s breath hitched as he looked at her, in the way her daughter’s gaze flickered toward him before quickly looking away. It was in the tension that hung thick in the air, in the unspoken words that passed between them.

Alicent’s heart sank, her worst fears confirmed in the space of a heartbeat. She could see it now, plain as day—the connection between them, the bond that went beyond family, beyond duty. It was something deeper, something forbidden.

“Come, we must not keep the King waiting,” Otto’s voice cut through the tension, bringing them all back to the present.

Alicent forced herself to smile, to play the role she had been born into. “Indeed,” she agreed, her voice steady even as her mind churned with a thousand thoughts. “Let us return to the Red Keep.”

As they made their way back, Alicent found herself walking beside Gwayne. She glanced at him, trying to read his thoughts, but his expression was carefully controlled once more. Yet she could not forget the look in his eyes as he had watched her daughter, nor the way his hands had clenched at his sides when Cannibal had flown overhead.

“You must be proud,” she said softly, “of how far we have come, how strong our family has become.”

Gwayne glanced at her, his smile faint but polite. “I am, sister. We have much to be proud of.”

Alicent nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She could not shake the feeling that everything was on the brink of unraveling, that the threads of their carefully woven lives were being pulled apart by forces they could not control.

And as they walked back toward the Red Keep, with Cannibal’s distant roar echoing in the sky above, Alicent could only hope that whatever came next, her family would survive it.

The flickering candlelight bathed the walls of her chambers in a soft, golden glow, casting silhouettes that danced across the tapestries and silken drapes. The air was thick with the scent of lavender, meant to soothe nerves and calm the mind, but tonight, it did little to ease the tension coiling within you.

You stood by the window, gazing out at the darkened sky, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Worry gnawed at you, like a persistent whisper at the back of your mind, and it only grew stronger as the door behind you creaked open. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was—the familiar presence, the unmistakable warmth that seemed to fill the room whenever he was near.

“Gwayne,” you whispered, turning to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He stepped into the room, his expression softened with affection as he looked at you. “You shouldn’t worry, my love,” he said, crossing the room with a few quick strides until he was standing before you, his hands reaching for yours.

“I can’t help it,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you took his hands in yours, gripping them tightly as if you feared he might slip away. “Aemond told me what they plan—how they expect one of Rhaenyra’s dragonriders at Rook’s Rest. It’s a trap, Gwayne. They mean to spring a trap, and you’ll be there with them.”

Gwayne’s expression hardened slightly at the mention of Aemond, but his voice remained gentle as he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I have faced worse, and I have always returned to you,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a tender caress. “I will return again, I promise you.”

“But this time…” Your voice broke, the fear creeping into your words. “This time feels different. Aemond is reckless, and Aegon… I don’t trust him to care for anyone but himself. What if something goes wrong?”

Gwayne leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes, as if trying to draw strength from your presence. “Nothing will go wrong,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. “I will make sure of it.”

His words were meant to reassure, but you could hear the uncertainty beneath them, the fear that mirrored your own. You reached up, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer as if the closeness alone could protect him.

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your lips brushed against his. “Not now, not ever.”

His response was a soft, desperate kiss, one that quickly deepened as his hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him. There was a desperation in the way he kissed you, as if he too was trying to cling to the moment, to the safety of the here and now.

The kiss grew more urgent, more heated, and you could feel the tension in him, the way his fingers dug into your hips as if grounding himself in the sensation of your body against his. Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers tugging at the fabric, needing to feel his skin beneath your touch.

“Gwayne,” you gasped as he kissed down the column of your throat, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “I don’t want to talk about war, or Aemond, or anyone else. Not right now.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark with desire and something deeper, something that went beyond words. “Then let’s not,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Let’s forget everything else, just for tonight.”

You nodded, and that was all the permission he needed. His hands moved to the laces of your gown, deftly working them free as you did the same with his tunic. The fabric fell away, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the chamber, but the chill was quickly replaced by the heat of his body as he pressed against you.

You let out a soft moan as his hands roamed over your bare skin, the touch both familiar and electrifying. There was no hesitation in the way he touched you, no uncertainty—only the confidence of a lover who knew every inch of your body, who had memorized the places that made you tremble, that made you sigh with pleasure.

He lifted you easily, setting you down on the table behind you with a force that sent a few scattered objects clattering to the floor. But neither of you paid them any mind. Your focus was entirely on each other, on the way his mouth found yours again, the way your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them as he positioned himself between them, his eyes locked on yours, watching the way your breath hitched, the way your body arched toward him in anticipation. The first slow, deliberate thrust drew a gasp from your lips, the familiar stretch filling you with a deep, aching need.

“Gwayne,” you moaned, your head falling back as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sensation of him inside you was both comfort and torment, the slow drag of his body against yours driving you mad with desire.

He didn’t hold back, his movements quickening, each thrust more forceful than the last as he buried himself deeper inside you, his breath ragged against your neck. “They know,” he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of keeping control even as his body threatened to overwhelm him. “Alicent… Otto… they know about us.”

You bit back a cry of pleasure as you tightened around him, your hands gripping his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “I don’t care,” you whispered fiercely, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that silenced any further words. “I don’t want to think about them either.”

The kiss was consuming, a desperate melding of lips and tongues, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was both frantic and familiar. The table beneath you creaked with the force of your movements, but you paid it no mind, lost in the sensation of him, in the heat that built between you, spiraling higher and higher until it threatened to consume you both.

His hands roamed over your body, as if memorizing every curve, every dip, the feel of you beneath his fingertips. And you responded in kind, your own hands exploring his body, the hard planes of muscle, the slickness of sweat that coated his skin as you moved together, faster, harder.

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, your body arching off the table as the pleasure built, coiling tighter and tighter until it was unbearable. “Gwayne,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge of release, needing that final push.

“I’m here,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need, his pace quickening even further, driving you both toward the inevitable end. “I’m here, my love.”

The words sent you over the edge, your body shattering around him as you cried out, the pleasure washing over you in waves, pulling him along with you. He followed with a groan, his movements becoming erratic as he found his own release, his body tensing above you as he emptied himself inside you.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the feel of his body still joined with yours, the lingering warmth of pleasure that coursed through your veins. You clung to him, your hands gentle now, soothing as you held him close, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose this moment.

But eventually, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes soft with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a balm to the fears that still lingered in the back of your mind.

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice steady, but filled with the same deep emotion that he had shown you.

He kissed you again, this time slow and sweet, a promise in the way his lips lingered against yours. But as you held each other in the quiet aftermath, the world beyond your chambers slowly crept back in—the war, the dangers that awaited him at Rook’s Rest, the knowledge that nothing was certain.

But for now, you pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours. For now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

You sit astride your dragon, the wind whipping through your hair as Cannibal’s powerful wings cut through the air. The sound of battle echoes below, the clash of steel and the screams of men rising like a dark symphony. You can see the banners of House Targaryen and House Hightower waving in the distance, signaling the battlefield at Rook’s Rest. But your heart is not with the men below; it beats faster with each passing moment, drawn inexorably to the man on the hill, mounted on his horse, watching the sky with a tension that mirrors your own.

Gwayne.

He’s there, beside Ser Criston Cole, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. You know his eyes are on the horizon, where Meleys, the Red Queen, approaches with Rhaenys Targaryen astride her. His heart must be racing, as is yours, for different reasons. He knows the danger. You know the risk.

He’s always known, hasn’t he?

Even back in Oldtown, when you were sent away with Daeron, your brother, to be raised as a ward of House Hightower, it was clear that your life was bound to the iron will of your family. But it wasn’t duty that bound you to Gwayne; it was something else, something deeper, something forbidden.

It began with stolen glances, quiet moments in the gardens, and the brush of his hand against yours. Oldtown became your sanctuary, but it was Gwayne who became your world. The Hightower, with all its towering walls and ancient halls, held secrets—yours among them. The love that blossomed between you both was secret, tender, and as dangerous as the war that now rages around you.

Cannibal lets out a low, rumbling growl beneath you, sensing your anxiety. You press a hand to the black scales of his neck, grounding yourself. You were always a Targaryen, always bound to the dragons, but Cannibal… Cannibal was different. He was a creature of pure darkness, a beast of the old ways, feared and shunned by all but you. It was fitting, you suppose, that your fate would ride with such a dragon.

“Hold steady, Cannibal,” you murmur, though your eyes are fixed on Gwayne’s distant figure.

There’s no time to linger on thoughts of him. Meleys is close now, her crimson scales catching the light of the setting sun. Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, a seasoned dragonrider and a warrior born, is a formidable opponent. You know this as well as anyone. Your jaw tightens as you prepare for what’s to come.

Gwayne’s voice echoes in your mind, a memory from nights past. “You shouldn’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“This is what I was born to do,” you’d whispered back to him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “For the throne, for our family… for you.”

He hadn’t said anything more, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He’d known then that this day might come, and he’d feared it as much as you had.

A roar splits the air, snapping you back to the present. Rhaenys has begun her assault, Meleys unleashing a torrent of flame upon Cole’s men below. They scatter like leaves in the wind, consumed by the fire. The scorpion ballistas fire their harpoons, but Meleys is swift, her aerial maneuvers deft and practiced. The shots go wide, missing her entirely.

And then, another roar—this one deeper, more guttural—resonates through the skies. It’s a sound that stops your heart, and you know it’s the same for Gwayne, though he is miles away.

Cannibal.

The battlefield below stills for a moment, as if the very world is holding its breath. Then, the black shadow of your dragon falls across the earth, blocking out the sun as you and Cannibal descend upon the fray. Rhaenys turns her head, her eyes narrowing as she sees you. There’s no time for words, no time for the politics or the pain of family betrayal. There’s only the battle.

Cannibal’s jaws open, and a blast of dark fire shoots forth, aimed directly at Meleys. Rhaenys pulls her dragon to the side, just in time, the fire missing by a hair’s breadth. The air is thick with the stench of smoke and burning flesh, the screams of men below barely audible over the thunder of dragon wings.

Rhaenys maneuvers Meleys with precision, and you feel the thrill of the challenge rise within you. Cannibal surges forward, claws outstretched, and the two dragons clash in a tempest of scales and fury. The sky is a blur of red and black, fire and blood. Meleys snaps at Cannibal’s neck, but he twists, his tail whipping around to strike her side.

Gwayne watches from his position on the hill, his knuckles white as he grips the reins of his horse. He knows your style, knows the ferocity with which you fight. But this… this is something different. This is war.

Above, another dragon’s roar cuts through the din, and you know it’s Aegon on Sunfyre. He swoops in from the west, brilliant golden scales shining in the fading light. Aemond follows on Vhagar, the ancient dragon circling above, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It’s a dance of death, a deadly game of strategy and strength. Cannibal and Sunfyre move in tandem, each attempting to flank Meleys, forcing her into a vulnerable position. You catch a glimpse of Rhaenys, her face set in grim determination, her lips moving as she urges her dragon on.

Cannibal snarls, his teeth snapping inches from Meleys’ throat, but she’s quick, too quick. She lashes out with her claws, raking them across Cannibal’s side. He roars in fury, and you feel the impact through the bond you share with him, the pain a sharp lance in your side.

But you don’t falter. You can’t. Not now.

Sunfyre dives, his maw open wide, but Meleys is ready. She turns, a stream of fire bursting from her jaws, and it engulfs Sunfyre. The golden dragon shrieks in agony, his wings catching fire, the delicate membrane burning away. Aegon is thrown from the saddle, his body a blazing comet as he plummets to the earth below.

“No!” The scream tears from your throat before you can stop it, the sight of your brother’s fall searing itself into your mind. But there’s no time to mourn, no time to grieve.

Cannibal takes advantage of the chaos, his claws digging into Meleys’ back as he forces her downward. The red dragon roars in defiance, but Cannibal is relentless, his jaws closing around her neck, ready to end it.And then it happens.

A scorpion ballista, aimed by desperate men, fires a harpoon meant for Rhaenys. But the aim is off, the bolt instead striking Cannibal’s side, driving deep into his flesh. The black dragon lets out a roar of agony, his grip on Meleys faltering. The pain is overwhelming, the bond between you and your dragon screaming with the shared agony.

“Cannibal!” The cry is torn from your lips as you feel him falter, feel his strength ebbing away. You’re falling now, the ground rushing up to meet you as Cannibal spirals out of control. The world blurs, the sky and earth blending into one as you plummet, your heart in your throat.

Gwayne watches in horror, his voice lost to the wind as he sees you falling, sees Cannibal spiraling down in a trail of blood and fire. He digs his heels into his horse’s sides, urging the beast forward, racing toward where you’ll land, desperate to reach you.

Above, Aemond’s fury is unleashed. Vhagar, enraged by the sight of his fallen kin, descends with a vengeance. The ancient dragon’s roar shakes the very earth as he closes in on Meleys, who is weakened, bloodied. Rhaenys barely has time to react before Vhagar’s jaws close around Meleys’ neck, and with a sickening crunch, it’s over.

Meleys falls, lifeless, to the ground, her crimson scales dulling as death claims her. Rhaenys, too, falls silent, her body still and broken beside her dragon.

But Gwayne’s thoughts are not with the dead queen or the defeated dragon. His only concern is you. He rides hard, faster than he’s ever ridden, his mind racing with fear and hope. He can’t lose you, not now, not like this.

Cannibal crashes into the earth with a sound like thunder, his massive body crumpling from the impact. The force of the fall throws you from the saddle, sending you tumbling across the scorched ground. Pain explodes through your body as you hit the earth, the breath knocked from your lungs.

Darkness edges your vision, but you fight it, fight to stay conscious. You can’t succumb, not yet. Gwayne is coming. You have to hold on.

As the world begins to fade, you hear it—the sound of hooves pounding against the earth, growing closer, and closer. Gwayne. He’s coming for you. You try to move, to reach for him, but the pain is too much, your body too broken.

The last thing you see before the darkness claims you is his face, twisted in anguish, as he leaps from his horse. 

You barely feel the impact as you fall into his arms, the world around you blurring into a haze of pain and shadows. Gwayne's voice is a distant echo, calling your name, but the sound is faint, drowned by the thunderous roar of the battle still raging in the skies above.

"Stay with me," Gwayne pleads, his voice thick with desperation. His hands tremble as they touch your face, your hair, as if he's afraid you're already slipping away. Blood is everywhere—yours, Cannibal's, staining the ground beneath you. He can't seem to stop the flow, no matter how hard he tries.

"Cannibal..." you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. Your hand reaches out instinctively, searching for the bond you've always felt so strongly. But there's only silence. Cannibal, the dragon who was feared by all, lies broken, motionless, his once powerful body now just a dark mass on the blood-soaked earth. The bond between you and your dragon fades, leaving a gaping void in your heart.

Gwayne’s heart shatters at the sight of your pale face, your bloodied form cradled in his arms. He knows he should call for the maester, for anyone who can help, but the thought of leaving your side, even for a moment, is unbearable. He pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your cold skin.

"You’re going to be fine," he says, but the words sound hollow, even to his own ears. There’s too much blood, too much pain, and he can see the life slipping from your eyes. "You have to be fine. I won’t let you go. I can’t..."

You try to speak, to comfort him as you always have, but the effort is too great. The darkness is pulling you down, dragging you away from him, and there’s nothing you can do to fight it. The world is growing colder, quieter, and all you can think about is Gwayne. How much you wanted to tell him that you loved him, how much you wanted to stay with him, away from the chaos of the war that has torn your family apart.

Gwayne’s tears fall freely now, his chest tightening with grief. He’s never felt so helpless, so utterly powerless. He presses his lips to your forehead, a silent vow passing between you both.

"I will keep you safe," he whispers, his voice breaking. "No matter what, I will keep you safe. I swear it on my life, my love. I will not lose you. Not to this war, not to anyone."

The sound of approaching footsteps jolts him back to reality, and he looks up to see Ser Criston Cole riding towards them, his expression grim. Behind him, the battlefield is a smoldering ruin, the bodies of men and dragons alike littering the ground. Aegon’s fall has sent a shockwave through their ranks, and the once glorious day has turned into a nightmare.

"Get her to the maester, now!" Cole commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Aegon’s alive but barely, and we need to regroup. We can’t afford to lose her too."

Gwayne doesn’t respond, his focus solely on you. With a strength born of sheer will, he lifts you into his arms, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. In his mind, you are.

As he carries you toward the tents, each step feels like a mile, the weight of his promise bearing down on him. The battle rages on, but in that moment, Gwayne doesn’t care about the throne, the war, or even his duty. All that matters is you, and the vow he’s made to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

He won’t let you die. He can’t. Not when there’s so much left unsaid, so much left to live for. He’ll fight for you, as fiercely as you’ve fought on the back of your dragon. And if it means going against the very family he’s sworn to serve, then so be it.

As Gwayne reaches the maester’s tent, he refuses to let go of you, even as the maester tries to take you from his arms. He holds on, even as the world around him spins out of control. He won’t let go. He can’t. 

And as the darkness finally overtakes you, the last thing you hear is his voice, a whispered promise that anchors you to the world.

“I will keep you safe,” he vows again, and this time, the words are as unbreakable as the bond you once shared with your dragon.

Even if it takes his last breath, Gwayne Hightower will not fail you.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[drdemonprince]

ok big question as someone looking at ENM, which my partner has also expressed interest in. I know myself to have too little spoons to be aware of more than one person at a time. I dread that pursuing someone else, even if just for a night, takes away resources from me that would make my main partner feel neglected. That and the general idea of neglecting to work on the relationship when there's a whole array of companions ready to serve a good time w/ no deeper work involved. What would you consider an ideal way to negotiate with these feelings?

You're touching on something that I've been wanting a word for for some time.

In nonmonogamy circles (I will not use the term ENM, because categorically declaring yourself to be ethical to be seems like a huge barrier to recognizing the ways in which you are not), there is much talk of jealousy -- the feeling that one's partner is not giving them enough attention and love. But there's comparatively little talk about the guilt one can feel about not giving enough love and attention to one's partner. That troubling sense that you are not showing up enough for everybody, that you are in some sense leaving a long-term partner behind.

I suffer from this guilt more than jealousy, much of the time. I find that I cannot be emotionally available to any kind of new partner because my heart is lingering in another room, waiting and longing for the partner I'm already attached to, and i'm anxious to dash off and get back to them as soon as I can, to make sure they feel cared for and to ensure I don't lose them. This happens even when I have a primary partner who fully does not mind that I'm off with somebody else, and does not feel insecure or jealous. I'm still intensely attached and anxious to reinforce that attachment. I have a horny slutty body, but a monogamous heart.

I think you may find, if you pursue nonmonogamy, that your attachment to your partner means a lot to you and quite difficult for a new relationship to replicate. Though the thrill of a new relationship or sexual encounter can certainly pull one's focus, most of the people you'll hook up or try dating won't share that spark with you that you share with your partner, and regardless, you won't have the shared history or bond there.

Other people won't be "easy" either -- they will come with their own host of traumas, insecurities, expectations, annoying quirks, hangnails and bad breath and baggage from their exes. It's true that some nonmonogamous people use new partners to try and fill what holes they perceive in their own lives, but they always fail if that is their outlook, because humans aren't an easily expended resource, they're a source of pain and annoying complexity just as much as delight.

Sometimes dating new people makes you aware of just how aligned you and your partner are on a variety of domestic life issues and long-term plans. Other times, yes, some long-neglected corner of yourself is rekindled by a new person and it's thrilling and you do feel called to open up more space in your days for them. And that can be tough, but it's also fine. But I generally wouldn't head into nonmonogamy with the expectation that it's going to be all fun and effortless sex with a cadre of available strangers. No, it's gonna be a fuckin pain in the ass, as all human relationships must be -- lots of tedious negotiations, awkward stumblings over who is going to pay the bill at dinner, farts in the bed, tantrums, bored moments watching some movie they love but you hate, cute chit-chat while petting their cats, and just all the other mundane stuff that makes a life.

And you gotta be ready to treat the new people you are dating like full people, too, by the way -- not see them as either a looming threat to your other relationship that you must steel yourself against, or as an ever-flowing river of pleasure that you think you're gonna drown in. Both those outlooks can become very dehumanizing, and I have often seen that when a couple opens up their relationship, it is their *new* partners who get overlooked and shafted and treated like shit, not their existing long-term partner. So that's something to be really aware of too, I think -- remember that you are getting to know a whole person and there are a lot of responsibilities that come with that, if it's anything other than an anonymous cruising hookup.

[fairlyabookie]

Down Bad

Author's note: totally not inspired by ZB1's "Good So Bad" - this song is very shojo-coded fr fr...

Content: wholesome

Deuce tries to play it cool with his feelings now that he realizes how much he likes you; one minute, he’s totally fine talking to you, and the other, he’s freaking out in the inside - his mind on overdrive when he notices small details from interacting with you. He’d stumble on his words, tripping on minuscule things, earning cackles from onlookers (of course, Ace, too) 

His brain must’ve reset itself whenever he thinks of you: indescribable words drifting about his mind, the urge to declare his feelings intense yet.. Even if he could voice it out, he couldn’t express his heart properly. Words didn’t suffice, and so, he brought himself into doing small activities that would surely reciprocate his feelings to you. 

Every move he’d overthink: was this the proper way of doing things? Was he overdoing it? Much to the advice of his peers, he was on the right track, but what if [Reader] didn’t realize the meaning of his actions? What if they thought he was doing so just because they were his friend? 

Such thoughts brought dread to Deuce; he can’t absolutely mess this opportunity up! He had to ask his peers about this troubling dilemma: what would they do if they were in this situation? How would they approach this? Would they be satisfied by the results? Such differing answers from them would confuse the poor boy - maybe, just maybe, he can think of something for himself to do this. 

On a twilight-tinged sky, Deuce consults [Reader] for a moment of their time, cyan eyes conveying nothing but crystallized conviction. He was going to do what he knew best for this sort of thing, and he hoped he could do this right.  

At first, Ace feared the worst; Oh Great Seven, do I have to step up on my game? You see, his previous relationship wasn’t really all sunshine and rainbows - just teenagers being stupid and thinking love was like a fairytale. Oh no, he learned the hard way that he had to sustain this ‘love’ and make it worth his while and [Reader]’s while.

Unlike Deuce, he keeps himself tight-lipped about this; though he quite thinks that he has this reciprocity game in the bag. Yeah no, he is ditching what he did on his previous relationship. If anything, he had some lessons to learn if he wanted to make this right. 

To his defense, his first relationship was him experimenting; nothing too serious  - the other party would think otherwise. Taking his previous relationship as an example was a stupid idea - this time, [Reader] was actually a good friend rather than a stranger trying to kiss up to Ace. 

At first, Ace would try to ignore his feelings, going through his day normally as if nothing happened; yet, a different story behind closed doors. He’d search the web for answers to his stupid question about confessing to someone whom he was already close with. Much to his disappointment, the Internet was very unreliable, replying with comments to reject his friend’s confession and continue their relationship as it is. Ace knew he shouldn’t have voiced his worries on the web. 

I hope to make this relationship last long and be a better one than the last, he thinks to himself. The boy knew better than to repeat his mistakes, and he’d rather avoid doing all the cheesy crap and hang out with [Reader] as usual. Gosh, why did feelings make things so complicated?

The first thought that came to mind when he felt his heart pitter-patter: is this how love in those stories feels? He cannot make the words himself, but sure, he knew how those books would describe it: heads over heels, head on cloud nine, tunnel vision for their loved one. The young man understood what that meant. 

He is fascinated by this sensation, noticing how his heart quickened whenever he saw [Reader]’s bright smile from the corner of his eye, or when [Reader]’s laughter would ring out true whenever he was with them. Needless to say, Epel was smitten. 

Word would spread like wildfire in the Pomefiore dorm that Epel was in love, bringing to the attention of Vil and Rook, who both gave each other an understanding glance before concluding on a common understanding: Epel had truly grown up. Yet, this didn’t mean the end of their teachings. 

Vil and Rook had to make sure Epel was still consistent with his routine, straighten his posture, and instill the same composure he always did before. As much as Epel found these routines outrageously tedious, his feelings brought new resolve to him and his daily activities - he will get stronger for the sake of [Reader], to show them his best charms. 

Epel couldn’t possibly wait for the ‘perfect’ moment when he becomes a stronger mage, but rather, he wants [Reader] to be part of his journey of becoming stronger, to see him as he is as well as he sees as them as they are. 

Am I dying? Thought Sebek as he startles from his brief slumber, visions of a sweet dream with [Reader] dissipating in the darkness. Something was amiss: heart palpitations, his cheeks burning at a stray thought - even spacing out in the middle of class! How unacceptable! 

The infallible Sebek being distracted was unspeakable, and he’d reprimand himself for stooping so low to have his emotions get involved in his day-to-day life; He figured that he dealt with this ordeal himself - no troubling Malleus or Lilia about his dilemma, as if he thought he was capable enough to resolve by himself. 

Yet, it didn’t take long for Sebek to connect two and two together: the culprit of this dilemma was none other than [Reader] themselves - a profound revelation as he was captivated by them and their charms. He refused to acknowledge that he was entrapped in this web of ‘love’, withholding sentiments locked in his heart that were for his close friend to know.

As precious as these feelings are, Sebek found himself handling something akin to glass, a manifestation of time spent with [Reader] that only grew stronger and stronger until Sebek himself was bewildered by himself and his predicament. He floats in between the choices of confessing or keeping to himself, not wanting to trouble [Reader] with this emotion in case they ever had a change of heart. He comes up with an idea and hopes for the best. 

In Ramshackle Dorm, a certain individual receives letters professing their love for [Reader], attempts of poetry listed upon the heart of the letter as the letter delves into a story as to what garnered such feelings. Each letter [Reader] receives is adorably endearing, each one showing the voice of a naive individual who is confused, wanting to see [Reader] but at the same time, split between the paths of their position and their livelihood as a student. One day, [Reader] writes back, a patient response to the abundance of letters someone left behind for them to read. 

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul x F!Reader] 3013 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions.

A/n: Yeahhhh let’s goooo. We actually see Paul! Requests are open for one shots, imagines, and more. Check out the new request section of my master-list for my character lists!

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Dune masterlist

Five———

[Five days before the ceremony]

As you open your eyes, you feel a sense of deja vu wash over you. Yesterday's events come rushing back, and you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion and dread.

You sit up slowly, shaking off the lingering remnants of sleep. It takes you a moment to fully orient yourself, but you soon remember where you are and what has happened.

"Is it time already?" you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

"Yes it is, Lady Jessica instructed I let you sleep in for a few hours. It's early afternoon my lady" Delia says, opening your curtains.

You groan softly, feeling the weight of fatigue settle in your bones. The thought of yet more preparations and appointments fills you with a mixture of anticipation and resignation.

"Very well," you say, sighing. "Let us proceed."

The exhaustion was getting to you.

You follow Delia out of your chambers, your footsteps slow and heavy. You know that the countdown to the wedding has begun, and with each passing day, the pressure and expectations grow heavier.

You wonder who this day's appointments will be with, and what tasks you will have to face. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for what lies ahead.

As you and Delia traverse the hallways you look up in surprise as Paul appears around the corner, his expression serious and intense.

"My lady, may I speak with you? In private?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

Soon you nod, gesturing to a nearby empty chamber.

"Of course, my lord," you say, your voice soft and demure. "We can speak privately here."

You follow Paul into the small, secluded chamber, feeling a thrill of anticipation and nervousness. You have spoken to him before in meetings and at dinner, but never in private. You were acquaintances. What does he want to discuss with you so urgently?

Once the door closes he turns to you, "Are you ok?"

You nod tentatively. "Yes," you say softly, but the tone of your voice betrays the lie. You cannot deny the exhaustion and tension that has built up since your arrival on caladan.

"I am just... worn out from the day's events" you say, knowing full well that such an answer falls well short of the truth.

"You have been asleep all day" he states, catching you in your lie. "My mother told me about the early morning. I apologize for the pain that was caused"

You glance up at him, stunned by his sudden show of concern. You have never seen him express empathy, much less sympathy, towards anyone. There is a genuine warmth to his voice, and you feel a prickle of confusion at his behavior.

"It is not your fault," you say gently, forcing out a smile.

"It is the way of things. And it was necessary to determine if I would be strong enough for what lies ahead."

"Still", he says, his tone softening. "It can't have been pleasant. my apology stands." he pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. Then he continues, "My mothers entire process is barbaric. No one should have to endure such things. I did not expect her to extend her horrors to you"

You nod. "Our lives are not in our hands"

He nods, seeming to understand the truth behind your words. "Perhaps that is the hardest part", he says. "The knowledge that we have no real control over our own lives. That everything we do is predestined, and the path we follow has already been laid out for us."

You feel a sense of companionship wash over you as he speaks. Here is someone who truly understands, someone who gets it. You know who has had this feeling before, and the realization makes your heart ache.

Paul pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say next. Then he continues, his tone softer and more candid than you have ever heard it before.

"I sense the loneliness within you", he says, "the sense of being trapped and isolated, no matter how many people surround you."

Paul's spice tinted eyes meet yours, and for a few breaths, there is an undeniable tension between you. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I know the darkness that haunts you." Your breath catches in your throat, as if he had reached into your soul and grasped hold of your deepest fears. You want to pull away, to maintain distance and keep your emotions in check.

You have never shared these thoughts, these feelings, with anyone. But in him, you suddenly feel the urge to bare all, to open yourself to him completely.

"i've been dreaming of Arrakis" You Mutter

He smiles at you, a faint spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Nightmares, I assume," he says.

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows all too well what that particular dream means. You notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, and you wonder how much he truly knows of your inner struggles and insecurities.

You nod silently, unable to deny or dismiss the truth of the statement. Even though you had grown used to having nightmares about arrakis, this one had been particularly vivid and unsettling. You can still feel the terror of the desert and the endless sand dunes, the crushing sense of doom and helplessness.

The silence hangs heavy between you, thick and taut with unspoken sentiment.

Paul searches your eyes briefly, and then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. "Your dreams...they tell me that you are afraid, more afraid than you have let yourself admit. Even here, in this safe space, you cannot let go of the anxiety that haunts you."

You nod, feeling yourself grow flushed as his words strike a nerve. You have worked hard to conceal your fears, to portray a facade of strength and resilience. But here, in front of him, in this moment of intimate connection and understanding, you feel yourself succumbing to his perceptive nature.

"You see too much", you say quietly, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"Perhaps I do", he says, his voice soft and sincere. “The people view us as messiahs." He takes a breath.

"It's all fabrication, and we are bound to it by duty" he sighs

You nod, understanding the weight of the expectations that surround you. "Yes, we are puppets on strings, pulled in different directions by the desires of those who hold power. they seek to use us for their own ends, and we have no choice but to play our part."

Paul pauses, his eyes hardening slightly. "But we cannot allow them to define who we truly are. Inside, beyond this facade of duty and obligation, we are still our own people. we still have our own thoughts and feelings, our own desires and dreams."

"we each have a choice", he continues, "to surrender to

those expectations and allow them to define who we are. or to cling on to our own truth, despite the consequences."

He meets your gaze, and his words carry an intensity and urgency that resonates deep within your soul.

"I promise you," he says, looking into your eyes with a serious conviction, "That whatever choice you make, whatever price you must pay, I will be by your side to shoulder the burden as long as you extend that courtesy to me as well." You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I too have a truth I wish to cling to" he says before wiping a tear from your cheek which you had not noticed fell. “I unfortunately must depart, I have a security meeting for the ceremony" he says.

"Of course", you say, your voice straining with emotion.

"Do what you must. But promise me one thing..."

"What is it?", he asks, his voice still tinged with sympathy and concern.

You take a deep breath, feeling the lingering effect of his touch on your skin. You feel the urge to speak what is in your heart, to lay bare your feelings for him, your desire for him. But you manage to reign in the impulse, and try to maintain a sense of decorum.

"That we will see each other again, before we are made husband and wife", you say, your voice faltering slightly.

He nods softly, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He understands the deep significance of this brief exchange, and the desire behind your request.

"I promise", he says, his gaze intense and sincere. "We will see each other again, and when we do, much will be made clear. Until then, take care of yourself, and remain true to your heart. It’s far from over”

"I must go now," he says, "the ceremony is only five days away, and there is much to be done before then. but rest assured" he adds, his gaze lingering on you. "we will meet again."

The following two days were filled with dress fittings, floral arrangement and decor selection, cake tasting, and many meetings.

———

[Three days before the ceremony]

The entire palace was transformed into a flurry of activity, the servants bustling around and preparing everything for the ceremony. As the bride-to-be, the majority of the preparations fell to you and your family. But unlike many girls approaching their wedding day, you had no expectations or excitement. Instead, your thoughts were consumed by the impending reunion with Paul and the knowledge of the difficult days ahead.

The mornings were typically the only time you had to yourself. You were seated adjacent to your bedroom window, looking out at the sea as you reminisced on your upbringing.

You remember being escorted through the halls of the imperial palace, your eyes drifting past the grand spectacles of art and decor to the various courtiers and officials who moved like pawns across the board.

The emperor's hand gripped yours tightly, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for threats and vulnerabilities. His presence was a shadow cast over your childhood, looming large with power and influence.

You remember the countless hours spent in tedious lessons and tutelage, the endless nights spent studying ancient history and political theory. You remember feeling a deep sense of loneliness and isolation, a sense of being confined within the walls of the imperial palace.

Irulan was easily manipulated. That is what he desired. You were a threat to him.

It was his choice to not have you trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit like your sister. He feared the power you would hold.

You feel a sudden surge of resentment at this thought. He viewed you as a threat to his own power, not a worthy successor.

The emperor never truly understood the depths of your spirit, or your innate drive for greatness. He feared you and sought to destroy you before you could discover your potential.

The resentment grows as you recall all the ways you could have been trained and guided, only to be denied those opportunities. you could have been an even greater asset to the imperial house, but he denied you that chance.

"You cannot stop fate, father" you whisper aloud to yourself.

As you wandered through the halls, being transported from chamber to chamber to meet with various specialists, you felt increasingly overwhelmed and anxious. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, and you started to turn but immediately recognized Paul's firm grasp.

You wheeled around to face him, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as you saw his familiar face. Paul had appeared like a ghost in a forest, seemingly coming out of nowhere. but you were not surprised at his sudden presence, knowing the importance of this reunion.

"Well, the bride finally decides to make her appearance" he says with a faint smile, his gaze raking over your dress and appearance, taking in the details. But there is more than mockery and scorn in his expression, there is something deep and genuine.

You feel the corners of your mouth curve in a smile despite yourself, and you notice the gleam in his eyes.

"I trust they have been spoiling you?" he asks, gesturing to the entourage of servants surrounding you.

You nod, and try not to roll your eyes. "yes, they have been treating me like royalty", you say with a slight hint of mockery. "One might have forgotten that I am the subject of an arranged marriage and will not have much choice in the actual wedding itself."

Paul smirks slightly at your snarky reply, seeming to enjoy your spirited response.

"You know how it goes. it is all for the sake of appearances," he says, his tone tinged with irony. "The bride must be pampered and celebrated, even if she has little desire for the event itself."

"And what of the groom?" You ask

Paul pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement. "The groom may be equally disinterested, but he is expected to go along with the rituals and play his part. The pressure is not so great, but nonetheless a burden of duty must be shouldered."

Paul pauses, his eyes glancing beyond your shoulder, towards the swarm of servants. He gestures to them,

"But they seem quite dedicated to doing their part, so how about you let them continue to spoil you for another moment. And in the meantime, I will show you something"

he takes your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. You are surprised at the gentleness, the sudden shift in his demeanor. you allow him to lead you away from the flurry of activity, following him down a labyrinth of hallways and through several doors.

After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in a spacious office. Paul releases your arm and gestures for you to take a seat. He sits down opposite you, his expression grave and serious.

"This is something that cannot wait until the actual ceremony,” he says. "it is important that we discuss it now."

Paul's manner shifts as his mother enters the room. His expression becomes more formally composed, and he rises to his feet, offering her a slight nod.

Jessica responds in kind, the two offering silent greetings as she moves into the center of the room. You notice a slight softening in her demeanor as her son joins her, as if the two are united in this situation, however difficult it may be.

"You will not be fond of what must be done," Jessica begins

You flinch slightly at her direct statement, prepared for the news that is about to be delivered. But you also trust her wisdom and foresight, hoping that her words will provide some insight or guidance.

You study her face, noting the slight creases around her eyes and mouth, the weariness and stress apparent in her demeanor. She stands in firm control of her emotions, her tone composed and firm.

"Your father is to be charged with the attempted ratification of the Atreides house during his reign as emperor by the Great Houses of the Imperium. As Paul has been foreseen to ascend to take his place they have decided his ploy was an attempt to hoard the throne." She pauses. "He is to be executed shortly after the coronation of you as Empress and Paul as emperor"

The air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you feel this bombshell land in your chest.

Your father, charged with treason against the house and facing execution. For all his faults, the emperor was still your father, he shaped your life and protected you from the horrors of court life.

Your vision blurs, and your ears ring with a buzzing sound. You want to reach out to Paul or Jessica, but your limbs feel stiff and numb.

"I know this is difficult", Paul says, his voice soft but steady. "Your father was your father after all. But he had his own agenda, his own aspirations. He never desired for you to succeed him, much less become empress."

"But this changes nothing", paul says, his tone growing firm, conviction in his words despite the tragedy of the situation. "Your father has made his bed, and he must now lie in it. The ceremony will proceed as planned, and we will not allow his actions to stand in the way of our house and our destiny."

You nod, although it is with reluctance and sorrow. but you understand, deep down, that this is the only path forward. Your father may have once loved you in his own way, but he was also a man of ambition and status.

Paul and Jessica exchange a look, their expressions both sympathetic and resolute. Paul releases your hands, moving back to the center of the room.

"We will not let your father's actions deter us from our course. The ceremony will proceed, and you will be crowned as empress of the known universe."

Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb the significance of his words. You are to be the empress of the known universe, but at what cost? Your father, once so feared and powerful, now facing execution at the hands of what once was his Imperium.

You close your eyes, trying to push back against the flood of emotions threatening to sweep you away. You have no say in this matter.

"I understand", you say firmly, though your voice still trembles with grief and shock.

You feel two sets of eyes upon you, observing your response. You sense Paul's firm, almost resolute gaze, his presence a steadying force. Meanwhile, Jessica's eyes are filled with a subtle blend of sympathy and determination.

Her voice breaks the silence, her tone full of both sorrow and resolution. "You will be the greatest empress in the existence of this empire," she declares, the conviction in her voice unwavering. "Your father's legacy will fade as the empire embraces a new future with you. your father will never control you again."

———

Next chapter

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[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ ⿻ ･ ESCAPISM

you may be able to prolong your life , but it's not like you can escape your inevitable death , is it?

-ˋ ♡ ◞ leon kennedy. resident evil 4 remake. repost. reader is a separate companion from ashley.

( 1 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, WELCOME HOME.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN HOPE & DESPAIR. you are so far from home, you lonely little lambs, minds on the brink of corruption, blood spilled and meant to be stained with eternal damnation. you venture further into doom, surroundings crumbled into debris and desolation, places once full of life and vigor and a brewing evil now withered into a type of dead you have killed over and over again.

you are so far from home. something greater and something more sinister than nostalgia embeds itself in your existence, sinks itself in the crevices of a hauntening. everywhere you go -- zombie after zombie, death of the undead, every shot fired, every inch of a silver blade covered in red, you hear it, these whispers among the rot : welcome home, welcome home, welcome home, WELCOME HOME.

you wonder if you are losing your mind amidst the violence. in the quiet, it is easier to lose control, fall back into the rabbit hole you once desperately crawled out of before. you inhale, feel the dreadful air bring a heaviness into your lungs, threaten to crush a racing heart.

you ignore the feeling. some things are better that way.

you wrap leon's arm with bandages, movements delicate as to prevent further pain; your expression is somber, mind deep in thought, so you fail to notice the way leon looks at you, fail to notice how he calls your name in that firm yet somehow gentle tone.

"something tells me that you aren't thinking about me right now."

you blink. the trance is broken. you finish tending to him, and instead, your hand slides down and rests on his. it's almost instinct that he turns his hand over, grabs yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles in silent consolation. he leans in to take a better look at you, check if you're wounded-- and it's only just the slightest bit but somehow already too much.

"i'm not, sorry." he smiles wryly at your words. you run your fingers through his hair, find some comfort in this rare respite, force yourself to express the worries that run rampant. "i have a bad feeling... just--" a pause. "something is going to go wrong, leon. something bad is going to happen and--"

"and we'll survive it."

it is almost fascinating -- the shift of tenderness that hardens into resolve in those blue eyes. you almost feel a semblance of safety, but a paranoia, a guilt, accompanies it, engulfs it entirely until it is nothing in existence. gone, void, and leon knows this.

"look, nothing ever goes as planned. you know how it goes." he leans closer, and maybe there is something of reminiscent sorrow that lingers, and maybe he remembers raccoon city and the brutality of death there. "i can't promise nothing bad will happen, but i can promise that we'll make it out of here. both of us."

you nod. the numbness sinks in, one foot in the grave.

you are so far from home.

( 2 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU ARE MEANT FOR THE SAVING.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home ; the air becomes more suffocating as you continue forth. the weight of each step becomes heavier. you almost wonder if your footprints in the mud will become the last fragment of yourself, should you get lost in the dark.

the hollows of the earth you step on become a walking grave. it is a very tragic thing that you cannot see the crimson that seeps into the roots of her tragedies, this place corrupted with a madness of some higher being.

something in your chest hurts. it burns, almost -- a sensation akin to terror, and you have almost forgotten that feeling, last felt anything remotely similar when you first learned what it meant, killing another for the sake of survival, dead or undead. you force the calm, anchor it yourself, but you cannot see in this building, the staleness of the air suffocating.

you linger behind leon, keep to yourself. you should be stronger than this, but something in your gut, your instinct, tells you that something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and you've got to get him out of here, because better him than you and--

in the quiet, leon picks up on your breathing, senses a shift in the air -- a panic, a trembling, but there's something else he can't quite figure out, something else that isn't part of you. something approaches, silent, so he turns on his heel, hardly able to make you out in the dimness of this cramped room.

something is coming. something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and it's coming now. you hear nothing, but you feel it : this ominous presence, this dreadful dance with death and something that will infect your bloodstream, try to make you something that you're not.

SOMETHING IS COMING.

neither of you can think, fail to move in time from an omniscient being. the last thing either of you remember is a loud chaos, the destruction of a temporary safekeeping, then the collision of your bodies, then nothing.

nothing.

( 3 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, IT HAS BEGUN. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but this is where you are meant to be, you foolish little lambs. you should know your place, know that you are destined to be at the altar, worship in your veins, adoration drowned in black.

you wake up with an ache. when you come to, you are surrounded by a familiar warmth and comfort, realize that leon is holding you, arms supporting your frame. you have seen fear in those eyes too many times before, but there is something so visceral and heart wrenching this time. your vision blurs for a moment, head throbbing so violently that you can't quite make out what he says to you, but you understand the urgency in his voice.

"--with me?"

"leon, sorry, i--" you can hardly hear yourself. you feel the way his muscles tense as he pulls you closer. "hold on, i-- it's okay, it's okay-- i'm with you." you shut your eyes tight, feel that recognizable yet painful sensation in your chest.

you open your eyes, see the horror in your visage reflected by a cool blue. there's a relief to be found somewhere, if you looked hard enough, but you feel guilty for worrying him so much, so you look away, pat his arm gently in silent request for him to let go.

"you're with me." he tells you, breathless.

you nod. there's a lump in your throat.

"always with you."

there is something heavy in your chest and you know it is not grief. you know what that feels like. this is different. unnatural. you wonder if he feels it, too.

"how are you feeling? you okay?"

"yeah. yeah, i'm okay. i'm okay if you are."

neither of you have enough clarity to understand what happened-- to deem something as strange or out of place is rare nowadays, given both of your histories and roles in these catastrophes. but what need, what purpose is there to attack and flee? it would have been easy to rid of both of you, bring an end to the disruption to this corruption.

something is wrong.

( 3.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, A FALSE SAVIOR WILL DEEM THIS AS CORROSION, TELL YOU THAT THERE IS A WAY OUT. BUT THEY ARE SIN THEMSELVES, AREN'T THEY? BE CAREFUL.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but the reluctant acquaintance you find company with is neither unwelcomed or welcomed.

"las plagas, huh? some vacation."

luis's words echo in your mind. a parasite made for the end of all things, set to blossom, devour, destroy, and it's in your heart. there's a small inkling of hope-- something like that, you guess, had it not been for the former umbrella researcher's roundabout words.

you lean your head against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with leon. the taste of blood lingers on your tongue.

"some vacation." you repeat those words, mind in a fog. "some vacation."

he takes your hand in his, all too aware that his other one is stained with his own blood. no pep talk this time, you muse. that's okay. the silence is enough for now. even with a wavering resolve, you both know that this story is yours and that there is always an ending to reclaim.

"you with me, leon?"

you rest your head against his shoulder. he smiles, bittersweet. there will be an end to this, and it will be a good one. you've got a future together, after all.

"always with you."

( 4 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, THIS IS MERCY. SALVATION. WON'T YOU GIVE IN?

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and you are closer to losing yourself forever. you can feel it, that numbness and burning in your chest, in your heart. in your dreams, you find yourself drowning, surrounded by figures cloaked in black. unfamiliar.

when you dream, leon never leaves your side. call it love, call it fear, call it cowardice, but he holds you tightly, the shelter you have found a temporary haven. in the dimness, he makes out the foreign lines that run haphazard on his skin. a grimace.

there is an malevolence and hatred flowing in his veins, but such a thing does not exist in his heart. the black flows through his body, consumes the red entirely, spreads its parasite and curse. it grows more and more, and he almost wonders if this is how his story will end. his jaw clenches. he shakes his head, knows he cannot humor such thoughts. he has too many people to save, too many people he cares for. it can't happen again. not this time.

his vision distorts. everything becomes heavy. he is so tired. the taste of rust overwhelms his senses, suffocates him. maybe he is underwater too, drowning just like you are.

time is running out. he has to hurry.

it can't happen again. not this time.

( 4.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, TIME IS NEARING. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and everything you know, everyone you know. something poisonous engulfs you, takes over your mind and body whole. the visions, the whispers-- you shudder, feel that cool metal against your skin.

no, this isn't right-- you won't call it betrayal because it's not, because you can't be betrayed by someone you don't know, even if leon is the one who holds the knife against your throat. how terribly wretched this is, lover against lover, minds plagued with a reckoning. the virus continues its course, black adorning his countenance. it's coming. he is running out of time.

this isn't him. it's not. you know leon, know he would never put you in harm's way. you know the cause of this, recall the times you felt you weren't yourself, lost in the chaos of las plagas, mind set ablaze, a superficial deity echoing terror in your soul. you know leon, know this isn't him. you don't call this betrayal.

you are too afraid to speak, feel like one word will lead to demise. speak and you lose. stay silent and you lose. move, you lose. stay still, you lose. you cannot win here. there is no good ending, no optimal end game, no way around it unless he can restore himself.

you are helpless and weak and you cannot even save the person you love.

your mouth runs dry. his hand trembles. you feel him regain himself, barely, but the blade meets flesh anyway, draws the slightest amount of blood. part of you hopes, prays, that maybe the sight of you being harmed is what will bring him back, but it doesn't. the knife digs deeper. something trails down your neck. you shiver, instinctively take a step back, his name falling from your lips without a single thought, pleading. one step back, another forward.

you cannot distance yourself from this violence. you don't know what to do -- draw your gun, unsheathe your knife, act like you'll hurt him if he continues? would they care if leon died? would they care if you died? you are simply part of the flock, after all. your deaths are meaningless. you do not know if pain would even snap him out of this. you can both push it to the limits, wait and see what happens, but it doesn't matter, not if they see you as another useless puppet.

the possibilities are both endless and limited. something warm continues to run down your skin, leave a faint crimson in its wake. it's now or never ; there's no winning with inaction. another step back. you draw your gun, aim it down at the ground -- somewhere far in the distance, and shoot, once, twice. it's stupid. it'll draw attention. you can't think of anything else though, adrenaline sending your thoughts in a spiral.

it works.

a sudden wild bewilderment in blue eyes-- he jerks away from you, then you hear the knife clatter against concrete. you let out that breath you've been holding for too long, unsure if it is relief or some semblance of hurt that decorates your features.

leon is quick to put the pieces together, sees the wound on your neck. that was him. it was him. he hurt you, he--

"don't think about it. it wasn't you." you grab his wrist, ignore the way he reflexively tries to pull back in possibility that he could bring harm to you once more. "we have to go and we have to go now."

so you do. you run in search of safety together, but there is something that shatters the soul, breaks what little is left of the hearts that cling to humanity.

you run. you keep running. together.

( there is nothing to grant forgiveness for. there is no need for apologies, but you hear them endlessly, anyway. he is careful to tend to the wound, but his hands shake. his hands shake, so you hold them until they still. until he knows you're okay. )

( 5 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU HAVE TURNED DOWN GOD'S WILL, REFUSED YOUR OWN STORY. WHAT WILL YOU MAKE OF THIS?

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are closer than ever to being lost, but you are closer than ever to being found. your lungs burn, your limbs ache. the exhaustion weighs you down, but you and leon support each other, fend off the hallucinations that threaten to break you. you're underwater again, drowning, but the surface is right there, so close--

you cough up blood, wind knocked out of you by the ravaging plague. leon is on the verge of vanquish, but he fights through it, knows that your story together is yours and only yours to reclaim, so he pushes through, even if his body hurts so terribly much. he's so close-- there is no stopping now. luis's lab is nearby.

he's too close. he cannot stop now, even if everything turns into a haze, even if the darkness nearly takes him. so he picks you up, movements clumsy and weak, silently apologizes when he hears your muffled cries of pain.

when you reach the lab, leon rushes to put you in the chair. you do not know what will come next. your lips part in protest, but he is quick to shush you, tell you to save your strength. the parasite inside you lies dormant, but it will wake soon, and then you will be gone, lost forever. you don't have time, but neither does he.

you are afraid. you feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, eyes heavy, your head lulled to the side. you close your eyes, feel leon's hand on yours.

you are so afraid. it will hurt. you know this.

it does. it does. it does it does it does IT DOES.

( 5.5, ENDGAME ) : WHAT WAS LOST IS ALWAYS FOUND. YOU ARE CLOSER TO HOME THAN YOU THINK.

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY ABOVE THE TIDES, HEART CLEANSED FROM PLAGUE , BEATING , ALIVE. you are closer to home than you think, the pain spread through your body slowly fading. you are more tired and more awake than ever, the pain in your chest obsolete. you are safe, and so is he.

leon is knocked out cold, entirely still as he lies in the chair. had it not been for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, you would have thought to check his pulse. you rub your eyes, try to fend off the fatigue. you may be safe, but you are only free from the virus. still, you do not wake him, know that you both have been running on fumes.

you are not entirely sure how you managed to switch places with him ; your muscles ache in protest. surely you will be sore tomorrow. you smile weakly, rest your forearms on the arm of the chair. you put your head down, take a deep breath. you should wake him, start running. you should be going. but you are so god damn tired, and you cannot think. you cannot bear to do so. not right now.

you close your eyes, fall into a slumber in which you do not drown.

you wake up with an ache. this all feels so very familiar.

"--with me?"

when you come to, you raise your head, greeted by the sight of leon's warm gaze. he smiles when you sit straight up, shake your head as if it'd rid of the grogginess.

"good morning, sunshine. are you with me?"

you do not answer at first, though you both know exactly what will be said. you scoot a little closer, a faint worry in your eyes as you study him intently. the black has faded entirely, all signs of infection gone. you glance at the computer, confirmation made by the notification that pops up on the screen. still--

your hand trembles ever so slightly as you reach out for him, but part of you is scared that maybe it's wrong, maybe there's a chance that things could still go south.

"it worked. i'm okay." leon's words are gentle and reassuring ; he grabs your hand, leans into your touch in hopes that it will ease the panic that threatens to bloom in your heart. "it'll take more than that to get rid of me, remember? you're always with me."

something almost chokes you-- everything you have ever endured, whether good or bad, everything you have ever swallowed in attempt to keep it somewhere unheard, unnoticed. your eyes sting, but you nod anyway.

"yeah." you whisper, voice shaking. "i'm always with you, leon."

he studies you, careful, brows furrowed. he squeezes your hand : a desperate desire for reassurance, more for his own sake than yours.

"i've got you." he tells you, and you've heard those words so many times before, always knowing them to be true. "i've got you. we'll make it out of here."

[onlygarden]

[ in my arms, you're an angel ] - megumi fushiguro

genre: angst/ comfort

description: after yet another rough day, megumi comforts you

megumi knew of the unnecessarily harsh words, tense environment, and uncontrollable feeling of incompetence you had to endure each day. not a day goes by that you don’t feel like a hindrance. he finds it increasingly difficult to watch you come home each day with the same droopy and spiritless expression on your face. he just couldn’t seem to understand why anyone would want to torment such a good-natured person. in all honesty, it’s not like you provoke these people or even give them a single valid reason to heap pain and suffering onto your life. despite your undeserving disposition, they treat you poorly without hesitation anyway. as a result, megumi has witnessed your bright and amusing demeanor gradually dissolve with every strenuous day you’ve endured. it’s almost as if a tiny bit of yourself is brutally snatched from you every time you set foot in that dreadful place. it destroys him.

as you arrive home after another taxing day, you slide your shoes off and shut the door behind you silently. every evening, you always try your hardest not to disturb your boyfriend with your arrival; after all, you know he has a demanding job, too. after half-heartedly slipping off your jacket and hanging your belongings, you trudge your way towards the couch, plopping yourself down quietly. 

‘why am i even sitting down,’ you think quietly, ‘there’s still so much i need to do.’ 

allowing these thoughts to interrupt your momentary relaxation, you quickly gather the motivation to head towards the laundry room. your expression lightens as you notice megumi already moving some clothing into the dryer. “hey, baby,” he says softly after noticing your presence, “i knew you planned to do laundry after you came home today, but i wanted you to be able to relax.” your mouth falls open slightly, then you smile, touched by his sudden affectionate favor. you could honestly cry. megumi often tells you that he cannot stand the way you’re treated at your job. you can tell by the way he looks at you every evening you walk in the door; he can never conceal the way his jaw clenches with anger as he imagines the pain you’ve felt. 

“megumi,” you start, “this is too much. thank you.” 

you can't summon a way to describe the overwhelming feeling of gratitude you have towards your boyfriend in the moment. 

he chuckles at your polite display of appreciation. “what are you thanking me for? i should thank you for always coming home and continuing to work hard after a rough day.” 

you beam at his words. he is truly the only person who makes your endless, tiring efforts feel recognized and appreciated. whenever you fall into a seemingly infinite spiral of agony, megumi helps you to regain your vigor effortlessly. 

“you know, megumi,” as you speak, he gazes at you with his full attention, and his eyes hold a gentle enthusiasm, “this week was especially rough… so i just want you to know how much i appreciate this.” 

once the last syllable leaves your mouth, tears begin to trail towards the brim of your eyes. the ever-so-observant boyfriend he is, megumi immediately takes notice of this, and steps closer to you in a gentle manner. “(y/n), you don’t have to hold it in when you’re with me,” his gaze is so intense that you hardly even register the trail of tears sliding down your face. “it’s so hard to watch all your happiness fade away everyday, and it’s even harder knowing that there’s nothing i can do about it while it’s happening.” his large hands slide up and down your arms, then he places them underneath either side of your jaw. “but the very least i can do to help is be present in each moment, so it doesn’t become unbearable. let me help you take some of the weight off your shoulders, i can’t stand to see this side of you.” 

you briefly avert your gaze from his, the burning sympathy in his eyes making it difficult to maintain eye contact with him.

 “talk to me baby,” he says as he moves his hands to your shoulders, sliding his thumbs back and forth to offer you more reassurance. 

when you return your eyes to his, any bit of emotion you were holding back comes pouring down. he pulls you towards his chest with a soft thud, one hand resting on the back of your head, and the other resting on your hip. “i just don’t understand,” you begin, as you lift your arms to wrap around his body. “i don't understand what i ever did to any of those people to deserve to be treated this way,” 

megumi squeezes his eyes shut, slightly furrowing his brows at the pain seeping through each of your words. he’s utterly heartbroken by your display of such raw emotion. “i try my best to be friendly and kind with every single one of them, and i always go out of my way to be helpful even though my job is already so difficult, but they still treat me like i’m worth nothing.” you continue to cry into his chest, being muted by the close proximity. 

“they’re all a bunch of pathetic losers.” 

you can’t help but giggle at the bluntness of your boyfriend’s statement. 

he’s seething with anger upon hearing these things, but your slight laugh quells it a bit. “as much as i want to force all of them to treat you like the angel you are, i know i can’t actually do it.” 

he pulls you back to admire every detail of your face and watch the sadness fade from your eyes. “but, i know i can help you forget about the stress you experience everyday, and i can help you remember that you’re the most amazing thing to ever exist in this world.” 

you smile, genuinely flustered by your boyfriend’s loving description of you. he grabs your hand, and slowly runs his thumb over your knuckles.

“it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me.”

[fanficonly]

Wenclair x Reader -

What are you?- Part 10

Okay so yeah I have been gone... For like ... A long time... Sorry! I cannot give just one reason life has just been a lot to put it lightly. I am getting back into my writing and forgot how much I love it and fanfiction and just Wenclair in general. So I hope this chapter is good enough to move this story along and that some, if any, of you are still interested in it then I will be continuing so for now this is part 10 and more will be happening soon.

Enjoy reading 😋

"You were spying on me?!" You practically yell. Wednesday makes no attempt to explain herself but Enid fumbles over her words stepping towards you prompting you to step back instinctively

"I'm sorry. We're sorry. It was an accident!" She shouts back in defense, not aggressively but more panicked and worried as she dreaded your reaction.

"I- WHAT- This is too weird I-" you clutch the shirt in your hands, letting the fabric crease between your tensed knuckles as you start towards the door again.

"Y/N I have a proposition" Wednesday speaks abruptly, as if snapping out of thought, and the brazen tone she uses stops you from going any further. What could she possibly say that would help the situation right now? No wonder they are suspicious of you, making that phone call didn't make it any better and they had literally creeped on you from a closet! How the hell are you suppose to just let this go?

"A proposition? You spied on me while I was- you know that's not cool guys how did you even get there how did I not notice you?" Your voice trails off as you remember the last hour of time you spent in your room unaware of the prying eyes.

"We are incredibly skilled in being conspicuous" Wednesday says this with a hint of pride seeping out from the cracks of her blunt tone.

"Clearly" you sigh shaking your head a little in disbelief. I mean you didn't want to admit that it didn't completely freak you out because this is something that any normal person should have this reaction too... So you just continue with this course of action.

"We weren't trying to be conspicuous though, we didn't plan it!" Enid looks at Wednesday in matched disbelief. Honestly the thrill the Addams girl gets from stalking someone is a tad worrying but to brag about it like it was some master plan ...God she couldn't believe her girlfriend sometimes.

"Anyway as I was saying, I suggest we all move on from this" she puts it out there and for a split second you almost don't see the gravity of the situation and think the way she talks about it really minimises how you should feel.

Even Enid matches your expression giving Wednesday a puzzled look. How could you just forget about this? What could she possibly say that could stop the pure anger that was subtly building within you now?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the monotones of Wednesday

"We have apologised for spying on you" she says "You have apologised for hurting Enid" again you look away in shame, did she have to keep bringing that up like damn.

Wednesday continued as you drag your mind back the conversation at hand "I suggest we call it even and in return you will forgive us and I will halt all plans to end your life unexpectedly because of your crimes against my girlfriend" Wednesday makes a good point. Maybe this way you could start fresh almost. Yes it was wrong of them but at the same time it was wrong of you to nearly kill Enid on your first day. Seems like a good trade off

"Wow. That... That actually makes sense" you blink in surprise not expecting such a godsend and you smile lightly, recounting everything in your head. Weirdly enough, if you could all just forget about both incidents then maybe you could start building a foundation for friendship or at the very least have no qualms with eachother and not spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulders. You think you can do it.

Wednesday side eyes Enid, and smirks slightly at the puppy dog eyes she was giving her, clearly the wolf enjoys a little bit of violence in her honour. You could tell Enid was trying to contain herself from jumping her girlfriend's bones at the thought of her gerring all protective.

"Of course it makes sense I am a completely competent person with a proven track record for peacemaking" Wednesday let her face rise in another light smirk and Enid giggles. Did she just make .. a joke? Or is she serious?

You look at her quizzically

"Ok perhaps not the peacekeeping but that is what my Enid is for" you slightly giggle to yourself when Wednesday pets the werewolfs head affectionately causing her to raise her shoulders in glee, letting her eyes flutter shut at the touch of her mate.

The way she says "My Enid" and delicately trails her eyes lovingly towards her makes your heart melt and you nod

"Okay fine ..." You hold one hand out while the other still grips your shirt intensely " Truce." Quickly shaking hands with Enid, settling your emotions through meditation and earning a nod from Wednesday indicating she would decline your physical contact, you return to a less nervous state.

"Now... Can Wednesday still ... You know" Enid points to the surgical instruments and you sigh. Honestly at this point you have no choice you cant just leave so instead you say

"Yes thank you" and stand there awaiting instructions again.

"Lay on the bed" Enid motions for you to move, her tone was not demanding more a soft suggestion and you do as you're told.

You smile and lay face down, accepting the pillow Wednesday silently hands you and beginning to get more comfortable.

"How is your pain tolerance?" Wednesday asks as you hear the clatter of tools behind you. The sound urges you to twist your head around, curious as to what she was doing.

"Ummm fairly used to it" you say turning away again.

"Good" Wednesday says and you swear you can just tell she has some kind of sinister smirk covering her features.

"No not good why? Do you get into a lot of fights?" Enid asks casually pulling up a chair to the end of the bed to keep you company as Wednesday prepares her tools.

"Yeah you could say that" you let out a nervous laugh propping your head up with your hands placed under your chin for stability. It really baffles you how easy it was to get back to ... Well yeah normal is the right word you guess.

Enid smiles comforting you and says "Brace yourself" looking behind you apologetically.

"Huh?" You furrow your brow in confusion until "Fuck!" The word leaves your lips harshly as you grip the edge of the mattress in an attempt to ignore the pain you just felt as Wednesday jabs what feels like a burning rod into your scarred body.

words. And as you trail your eyes towards Enid your heart breaks for a second time at her pained expression. She must have felt terrible for bringing it up. You can't stand to see her like this.

"It's okay" you practically vomit out the words harshly trying to stop the tears that threatened Enid's eyes from falling "I- well I grew up with other children around me but no they weren't my siblings". Your mind drifts off thinking about the programme. Other children just like you nothing but numbers in rooms, day after day experiments, fighting and abuse being the core memories of your childhood. .

"So like a group home?" Enid asks and you twitch a little as Wednesday continues her handy work

"God you ask a lot of questions" you opt to deflect that one because how do you describe the home ...house... Building...you were raised in.

The tragic tales of Godmother forcing you all to enhance and control your abilities by using eachother as test dummies and the horrid realisation that this is your life forever. Forever until nevermore that is. Thank god for Nevermore. .

"How else are we suppose to get to know you" Enid smiles. She really did just want to get to know you? There was something so wholesome about her demeanor but again that little voice in your head remained skeptical so you ask "Why do you want to get to know me?" You move to prop you chin up with your hands further, elbows resting on the pillow to see more of the werewolf girl.

"So we can be friends silly" Enid pats your head similar to how Wednesday had petted her earlier and pairs it with a little "Oop" noise which was by far the cutest sound ever to leave the lips of a human.

"You guys want to be my friend?" You ask and almost smack yourself silly for how desperate and weak you sounded.

"Enid does,I prefer the term ally" Wednesday speaks from behind you once again and you crane your neck to give her a half smile in response. She barely changes her face instead running anesthetic around your wound after shooting you a quick look.

"Sure but I am a very private person" you warn hoping this might urge them to lighten up on the police style questioning you were being subjected to.

"So was Wednesday when we first met, now I know all her dirty little secrets" Enid smiles widely again and giggles menacingly.

"Yeah but she's your girlfriend that's different" you raise your eyebrows and smirk.

"I prefer the term soulmate" Wednesday chimes in preparing the hot iron for the third hole on your back.

"Soooo why did you come to Nevermore?" She continues with her "Getting to know you" plan and you bury your face in the pillow as Wednesday cauterizes your third wound. You also note that that's not what she wants to ask you. She wants to ask what you are? What you did? What happened earlier? But here she is luring you into a false sense of security. Either that or she actually planned to stick to the deal of forgiving and forgetting the events. When you don't say anything Enid looks at Wednesday. .

It's still hard to focus with the light grazes of cold fingertips trailing down your back. As Enid stops questioning you your mind races as you become more aware of the Seers hands touching your body.

Luckily you have something else to focus your attention on and instead you're watching Enid again stare at Wednesday. It's as if they are reading each others minds or something but you calm down a little trying to pay attention to the beautiful blonde Infront of you instead of the stunning darker haired girl touching your back.

Stop it. Settle your emotions. Breathing exercises. You close your eyes. God these girls really bought out all these confusing feelings and it was not good for your... Gift .

Suddenly Wednesday presses into your cut and you immediately screech out a noise you have never heard yourself emit before,burying your face into the pillow as Enid reaches for you in concern

"My apologies" she murmurs as you bite into the pillow then your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers glide up your back slowly ... This doesn't feel like she's stitching you up and you panic, what is she doing, that feels .... That's ...

""What are you-" you begin to ask but without warning she presses her full palm onto the uncut part of your upper back once again. .

The rush of feelings electrify your body, every muscle, every bone in your body seizes up and your head whips back as you feel yourself uncontrollable roll off of the bed. A swirl of golden dust surrounds the two of you ... It's happening again but this time it hurts like really hurts ... What is happening?! .

And then you see it.

Flashes. Images, drilling into your head with a migraine inducing force.

A vision of sorts rushes through your brain, partially distorted and yet painfully clear.

It's you

It's Wednesday, Enid and You. All 3 of you cuddled on a bed together. You look happy ... You look like ... You're in... Then suddenly nothing.

Darkness.

Abyss.

...

Y/N!!!" The loud whisper rings in your ears "Y/N can you hear me?" The voice is drowned out, but your vision starts to return, the blurry figures of what you know to be Wednesday and Enid looming over you

"I told you not do it yet!" You hear Enid's voice, muffling but it's. almost like static is penetrating your ears.

"I don't know what happened Cara Mia this doesn't make sense, she should not have felt anything" the sultry tone of Wednesday voice is clearer as your ears regain their ability to hear coherently

"Y/N?" The voice buzzes again

"Urrrgh" you groan, your vision finally focussing and feeling returning your limbs, as you notice you are now situated on the cold wooden floor of their dorm room.

Ouch.

Continuing to squint and widen your eyes in an attempt to sort the feelings and thoughts that accompanied the impending realisation of what had just happened

And then...

You sit up suddenly connecting the dots, the head rush it was accompanied by, threatening to bring up yesterday's dinner. Wednesday is a Seer! And you stupidly let your guard down and piggybacked on a vision she obviously induced when she pressed onto your back.

Fuck.

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Part 2 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader x Ace Trappola)

*Chapter start from below trailer*

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth

>> PART 2 <<

You woke up with a jolt as you panted for breath, a sudden rush of panic and fear washing over you. Your mind immediately reeled with everything that happened yesterday, the memories of Malleus's intense and possessive behavior in the throes of his jealousy flooding back, filling you with a growing sense of dread and fear.

"Good morning my dear wife." Malleus smiled warmly at you, his face filled with a mix of kindness and concern as he greeted you from the side of your bed. He advanced toward you to give you a kiss but you quickly place your palm on his lips and reject him, asking him about your children instead.

"Why did you do that yesterday? "Are our children alright?" The tone of your question seemed to confuse him, as his face grows into a look of shock and confusion before the same smile from before creeping to his face.

"They are as good as puppets. They are here with us." As the words left his mouth, his lips gently lingered on your palm, before his lips make their way up towards your shoulder. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sent a jolt down your spine, and your body froze in a moment of shock and tension.

A sense of panic and fear washed through you as you realised that something was wrong, that your children were not actually here in this room with you. As he pulls back, his smile grows wider, his eyes staring intensely into yours, his breath catching inside his lung for a moment.

"You must want to see them. After all, my dear wife is a loving mother. Look at them, dear" As his fingers grasped your chin firmly, you felt a wave of sudden terror washing over you as your head was turned forcefully toward the corner of the room.

There, staring back at you with lifeless eyes, were two wooden puppets, their faces frozen in an expressive pose of happy families. The horror and shock of the sight immediately filled your mind, as your body stiffened in a mix of fear and helplessness.

Malleus still had a strong hold of you for several minutes with utter dominance, not letting you look away from the puppets. Secretly, he enjoyed the look of terror in your eyes as he just smiled warmly at you, his eyes seemingly full of kindness and care as he looks at you. Just like a loving husband that you loved so much.

"Malleus, stop with your joke now." As his hands fell away from your face, your voice broke into a nervous tremble. Your eyes were quickly shifting between the wooden puppets in horror and disbelief, before you turned your eyes back upon him, frantically pleading for a confirmation.

"That cannot be our children, right? That is not Levan and Marcellus." You asked him with a desperate tone, unable to believe what you were seeing. The shock and fear on your face seemed to startle Malleus, as the expression on his face softened into one of genuine concern.

"My dear wife, I would never joke about such a thing. They looked so alive to me. They were always fighting each other. And now they are so peaceful, like dolls. It's nothing but normal for puppets to look like that. Isn't it?" Malleus's tone was calm and reassuring, as he tried to reassure you that there was nothing wrong with the puppets, with both of your kids.

"Dear wife, are you in disbelief? I'm the one who created them dear. They are my masterpiece." As he said this, a green shadow shot across the room towards the puppets, turning them into the appearance of your sons.

"They look like us dear. A mix of fae and lovable human like you" There was a growing smirk on his face as the puppets transformed in front of your eyes. As though on cue, Levan and Marcellus spoke to you in your son's voices, their wooden faces suddenly transformed back into looking like them. The green shadow slowly fades from the room as the puppets' wooden skin becomes soft again and the illusion is restored.

"Morning, Mama! Papa!" Marcellus says in his usual cheery tone, with Levan nodding his head in agreement beside him. Levan and Marcellus continue to giggle as though nothing unusual had just happened.

"Mama! Don't be scared!" It was now Marcellus turn to address you, his little hands reaching out to take yours. His hands felt as stiff as wooden, and you can't help but experience a feeling of horror and revulsion at the touch. Despite this, you let him take your hand, hoping that Malleus has not seen your reaction as you fear him for good.

Malleus watched you and your sons interacting, his lips curling into an amused and joyful smile for his little family. He seemed truly proud of his creation, as he watched them move and talked with you. However, he cannot help but noticed your reaction to Marcellus's wooden hand, and his expression darkens.

"They are lovely, aren't they?" Malleus said with a cruel smirk, enjoying the shock and fear on your face as he placed his hands on your shoulder.

"I make sure they take after us, especially your eyes that I love the most." His gaze wander towards your eyes, his words and tone made it clear that this is more of a threat than a compliment.

"But dear, you too focus on them, so they need to disappear." As he spoke this, the puppets began to turn back into their wooden forms. Seeing them changed back into their wooden forms, your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a mixture of horror and fear rush through you, as your mind tries to wrap around the revelation that the children you thought were real were just puppets.

Levan and Marcellus remained still and silent in their wooden forms, their wooden hands dangling limply by their sides. They seemed so lifeless and stiff, as though they were not a living creature. Your fear and confusion grew as Malleus's expression darkens, and his eyes stared at you firmly as though assessing your reaction. Malleus's cruel smirk grew wider as your confusion and fear grow.

"Why did you do this?" Your voice shaking in a mix of surprise and disbelief.

"Aren't we in a good marital relationship?" He looked back at you, his eyes dark and emotionless as he remained silent for a long moment. Malleus's expression slowly narrowed, and you cannot help but feel a growing sense of unease as his eyes fixated upon you. It was as though he was debating whether to answer your question, or whether to ignore it altogether. Eventually, his expression hardens, and he finally speaks.

"Because, my dear wife. I love you but" Your heart sank as he spoke his next words, the coldness in his voice sending a jolt of fear through your body.

"You don't love me. Even after all this years" The words hit you like a slap in the face, and you immediately turned away from him, not wishing to face his cruel expression anymore.

"That's why I think this is a great time for us to finally be one. All this time, I tried to respect you, dear wife" His voice darkened even further as he said this, the tone of his words leaving no doubt about his intentions.

"My wife is smart" He was now talking in a completely different tone, one that sounds almost like a threat. "You know what I meant do you?"

"As for that red haired man." The tone of his voice grew more menacing as he mentioned the red haired man.

"Never ever think about that red haired man again." His tone now resembled that of a command, as though he expected you to obey his every word.

"You were being a bad wife yesterday, dear wife. Saying that name in my presence. Now, how should I manage this, my dear wife? Should I lock you up again or clear your memories. hahhahahahaha! HAHAHAHA! I would always feel excited in starting a new dream with you again, My. Dear. Wife"

PART 1 <<, >> PART 3

@d3sperate-enuf

[enluv]

love spill !

PAIRING! - rockstar!jay (enha) x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k+

warnings: angst-ish but not really + fluff later !!, reader is stressed/exhausted, profanity, slow burn(?)

coco’s ♡ note: this came from a mini game I answered once and literally could not get over because I need rockstar bf jay so badly, I might make more with this jay too so let me know if you like it or have any rockstar!bf jay thoughts because I will indulge and write them !!! literally adore this jay so much ahhhh!!!

Finally.

Finally some piece and quiet away from the shared apartment you live in with the three younger boys.

Perhaps living with your younger brother and his university friends wasn’t the best idea, especially when you had a ten page journalism report due by three pm the next day.

That’s why you find yourself here on a hot summers day sitting in your favorite cafe, it’s not busy on Fridays and is hidden enough so the boys won’t find you for a while, but they will come looking eventually.

The bell of the cafes door rings to signify it being opened but this report is due tomorrow and you can’t stop to look up, but maybe you should have. Maybe you should have because now as you watch the hot brown liquid seep into your laptops keyboard you become painfully aware of the boy in front of you who’d walked in early wearing the most guilt ridden expression. His words muffled as you watch your screen go black.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry. Wait here let me get something to clean this up.” He’s fumbling with the other drinks in his hand as he tries to reach for napkins to clean the spill he’s made.

Where else would you go really? Right now you’re just waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. Had the program even saved the other three pages you’d written? Was your hard work gone just like that? Would your professor even believe you if you told him what happened? Even if it sounded straight out of a movie?

“Just leave it, I’ll clean it myself. Please leave.”

He stills at your words, no malice or emotions within them just exhaustion. The tone of your voice makes his heart ache, and he swears to himself that he’s going to make up for this for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry for this really, I need to leave because I have a schedule to get to but I promise I’ll make this up to you. Can I have your number?”

Your stare makes him feel small, then he realizes how his question sounds after a minute passes between you two.

“Wait I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not asking you out. Not saying I wouldn’t ask you out but I’m not doing that right now! I just need it so I can text you to pay you back, or I can pay to get your laptop fixed. I’ll send you the money or even if you want buy you a new one.”

Jay can’t tell what you’re thinking but somehow he’s walking out of the cafe with your phone number and an assortment of drinks for his members. Dreading having to explain to them just what happened in the cafe.

unknown (2:46pm):

uh hey this is jay, I’m the one who dropped my coffee on your laptop, really sorry about that by the way!! um i want to give you these so I can say sorry again in person because my mom always said to apologize face to face or you don’t mean it and also that way we can figure out the laptop money thing together.

unknown (2:47pm):

four attachments sent

just stop by tomorrow and have some fun and then after I’ll come find you and we can talk!! what’s your name by the way?

you (3:12pm):

it’s y/n. thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.

“I cannot believe some random dude gave you tickets to see downfall, like this show has been sold out for months and I mean months, talking eight months and he just gave up four tickets to see them? He must be loaded! Tell him you want a new computer and game console, I want the newest version.”

Jungwon’s excited rambles bring a smile to your face, sure just yesterday you’d cried almost all the water out your body until Jungwon had called your professor and explained in detail (along with sticking the phone in your room so he could hear your cries) the situation, but he’d also somehow gotten you an extension on your paper for the next week. He seriously deserved the random concert tickets the stranger, Jay, had sent you.

Receiving them was odd but he’d convinced you with the promise of fixing your laptop and that’s honestly all that mattered, so if you had to sit through a three hour long show next to some stranger who spilled coffee on your laptop then so be it because you’d be getting it fixed no matter what.

Except instead of said random stranger sitting next to you, an actual random stranger stood beside you excitedly yapping with her friends and the random stranger you had expected was perched on stage with a guitar in hand, microphone stationed in front of him like it belonged to him, and soon enough you’d realize from the crowds hollers that it did belong to him.

“ARE YOU READY FOR TONIGHT?” He’s met with screams all around the arena.

“That’s what I like to hear, alright let’s go.”

The shock of who Jay was really didn’t cease even after the show had ended and the four of you began to walk out the packed venue, it doesn’t really go away until a large man comes to escort you backstage.

“Hey buddy I think you have the wrong people, we’re just here still because my sisters waiting for someone.” Jungwon’s voice breaks you out of your shock and the man nods as if he knew what he was going to say.

“Yeah he’s backstage, just follow me.”

Jay fidgets with the bag he has in his hands, earlier he’d dragged the boys along with him to pick you out a new laptop and even threw in a new case and holder for it. He really wanted to get the image of your exhausted eyes out of his mind, he wanted to see you happy and healthy.

“Y/N you didn’t tell us the guy who spilled coffee on you was one of the members of downfall,” the voice he hears is failing to whisper as you get closer.

“Are we about to meet one of the members? What if it’s just like a staff or something like why would an actual member be getting their coffee and oh my god that’s the lead singer Jay.”

He laughs shyly at the boy who’s mouth is now wide open pointing excitedly at him, but he quickly shuts up as he spots you. You look so pretty, completely different from when he’d last saw you drenched in coffee and exhaustion all over your face. Right now you looked content and really really pretty.

“Hey Y/N, I know I said I’d give you the money to fix your laptop but I thought you should just have a completely brand new one, I’m really sorry for spilling my coffee on yours, I’m sure you were busy and needed it, I hope you can use this new one well,” his breath hitches as he holds out the bag to you and your fingers touch briefly, “and I hope you liked the show, I see your friends did.” He sends a wave their way and laughs when they all excitedly wave back.

A smile begins to develop on your cheeks and his heart races. This is exactly how he’d like to see you, happy and smiling.

Later that night as you pull out the new laptop determined to finish your nearly complete paper, a small card flutters out with it that reads —

“I wrote this to say not only sorry again, but to also ask if you’d like to go out with me sometime? and I mean it this time, as in I am actually asking you out unlike last time when I, you know accidentally asked you out unintentionally, this time I promise it’s intentional. Please let me make up the god awful first meeting we had, I promise it’ll be worthwhile. You have my number so if you want to then just shoot me a text but if not then that’s fine with me too! – Jay”

A smile forms on your face as you set down the card and get to working on your essay, the answer to Jay’s proposition already clear in your mind. Yes.

coco’s love note: i am so terribly down bad for jay it’s crazy. he’s so just perfect like I adore him so much!! and I’m the biggest rockstar!jay enthusiast like I just had to write something about it, plus I think it’s so adorable how he’s clumsy in this fic but a crazy rager on stage & only mc gets to see both sides of him fully! I hope you enjoyed this fic! As always, feedback & reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

enhypen taglist?! @en-fvr @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie (bold can’t be tagged!) Wanna be added to the taglist? – Check out THIS post!

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

[sunnynwanda]

Part 1

Rays of dawning sun dance across Vanki's scrunched face, prompting him to peel his eyes open. He basks in the warmth of the morning light, allowing his face to grow hot before pushing himself off the bed. It's been a total of seven days since he was dragged into the castle on the hill, interrogated and informed that he would be staying.

Vanki expected to be led into a dungeon then - his kind never trusted with freedom. Though he was not. Of course, he was still locked, but his room was nothing short of royal. For the first few days, Vanki woke up before daybreak and went to sleep only when the castle fell into languid slumber. Soon, however, he grew accustomed to the comfort of his large bed and the tranquility of his bath. Perhaps a little too quickly.

The King visited him every day but kept his distance, sensing the tension in the boy's shoulders and seeing his restless eyes darting back and forth during their conversations. Vanki was surprised to discover how much the King knew about vishaps. He never dared to ask about the scar, wary of indulging his curiosity. His gaze must have given away his thoughts unbeknownst to him because, during one of their conversations, the King rubbed his chin, his eyes crinkling slightly.

"I earned this one when I was around your age," the King had said with a lighthearted chuckle. "Went swimming into a vishap's lake to see what would happen - turned out he did not like being woken up from his nap."

Vanki let out a snort before he could stop himself. He looked up with wide eyes, fearing he had offended the King, but the man was laughing at himself.

"I expected to grow some scales or, at least, a tail, but a scar would have to suffice." He added, winking at Vanki, who was entirely astonished. His mom used to tell him about the times when vishaps lived in peace with humans, but Vanki always assumed it was thousands of years before his birth. The King did not look old enough to him.

"I've never turned," he mumbled under his breath, timid at the confession. His grandmother was bitterly disappointed when she learned about it. Vanki's breath hitched, worries about receiving the same disappointment again resurfacing.

"I know," the reply caught the boy off guard. Noting the confusion on his face, the King continued. "You're too young. I don't think you've slept, either?"

"No," the young vishap shook his head, his fingers twisting the edge of his shirt. "My mom didn't want it. When she died, my grandmother wanted me to go through the stone sleep, but I was scared, so..." He trailed off, not finding it in himself to finish the sentence.

"So you ran," the King concluded for him, his stare distant but not indicating any hostility. Vanki fell silent, searching for words to thank the King for his hospitality and to be greedy to ask - no, beg - for more of it. He didn't have to because the King spoke before he could. "As I said, you can stay."

Vanki's head snapped up, his eyes misty from unshed tears. He wanted to speak, to express how thankful he was, but his voice was nowhere to be found, stuck in his throat in a thick lump of disbelief and gratitude.

"But you cannot stay locked up in this room forever," the King smiled at him, a playful glint taking over his disposition. "How about you meet my wife and kids tomorrow? Then we'll think about school, hm?"

Vanki's head bobbed so enthusiastically he was scared he would damage a vertebra. The King huffed out another laugh, delighted at the boy's enthusiasm. Then he left the room, leaving Vanki shaking with anticipation and mortifying dread.

What if they don't like him? What if they ask the King to kick him out?

Vanki runs a hand over his face as he finishes tying the strings of his fresh shirt. Today was the day that would mark the first time he left his room. He was set to be introduced to the royal family right before breakfast, which was nearing like an impending doom.

Vanki glances at his hands, noticing the spreading black stains on his fingertips and halting his pacing to take deep breaths when a knock is heard. A servant unlocks the door, pushing it open and peeking in. She breaks into a broad smile the moment she spots him.

"Come on then, the kids cannot wait to meet you." Her voice is so cheerful that Vanki forgets his worries for a moment. He follows her along the corridor and down the stairs - all the while listening to her excited chirping. When they reach the large wooden doors, the lady stops, offering him another smile before sending him in.

Vanki feels as if he got submerged in the warm waters of his mom's favourite spring when he enters the room. For several seconds, he forgets how to inhale, trepidation fluttering his heart to his throat. His fears prove idle because the Queen rushes towards him, welcoming him with a tight hug and a kind smile. Vanki feels himself lean into her touch but is interrupted by an extremely excited squeal followed by a boy colliding with him at full force. Vanki stumbles back, managing to remain on his feet by a miracle of coordination. The kid's hands circle him with an iron hold, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

"That's Sar, our son," the King introduces with a laugh while his wife struggles to pry her son's hands off Vanki before the boy collapses from lack of oxygen. "He's five and a half and has been dying to meet a new friend."

Vanki looks down at him and is met with the brightest smile he has ever seen, even though the boy lacks a front tooth. When Sar finally releases him from his suffocating hold, Vanki notices another child tucked behind her mother. She looks older than Sar but younger than Vanki and has bright ginger hair, making it impossible for her to hide despite her best efforts. The King nods for his daughter to come greet their guest.

"And this is Amber," the Queen informs, prompting the girl forward. "She is about two years younger than you."

Seven, Vanki counts. He offers her a hand, and the girl shakes it shyly, jerking her hand away the moment Vanki's fingers loosen around hers. He wonders if she is scared of him and decides that she must. The assumption is soon denied when the siblings barely finish breakfast before dragging him out into the inner garden. Sar won't stop talking as he suggests a game after a game, and, if Vanki is honest, he has never had that much fun in his nine years of life. By the time the day fully breaks, Sar announces they are now the best of friends, which doesn't seem true to his sister.

Amber is weird.

She won't talk to him, instead opting to poke his arm until he pays attention to her. Even when Vanki tries to speak to her, she only communicates with him by nodding or shaking her head. At first, he thinks she doesn't like him, but that does not seem true since she continues playing with him and even shares her stolen cookies when they lie down on they grass to rest after the eventful morning.

Vanki is even more confused when Sar is taken away for his afternoon nap. He expects Amber to leave, but she grabs hold of his sleeve and pulls him after her. He follows wordlessly, curious to see where she is taking him, only to find himself led into a library. For the entire afternoon, Amber shows him her favourite books, still not uttering a word, and, when they leave to prepare for early dinner, she helps Vanki carry all of the books they've picked for him to read and smiles while waving him goodbye by his door.

As Vanki sets the books on his bedside table, he smiles to himself, delighted to have befriended Sar. He isn't sure where they stand with his sister. Amber is weird. Vanki can't help but like her nonetheless.

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: Vishap stones or Vishapakars are dragon stones, characteristic monoliths or stelae found in large numbers in the Armenian Highlands, near sources of water. They are believed to be images of vishaps, built to protect their respective water sources and honour the vishaps. In the Legends of Vishaps, however, vishap stones are the bodies of the sleeping vishaps. Vishaps can sleep for a thousand years, not waking up unless called upon.

xo Sunny

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[juneknight]

For domestic warmup requests! I always love a bit of hurt to comfort with a movie, or baby fever stuff. Picnic/date night is always a winner too :)

Some hurt comfort here dealing with infertility.

*

Negative—again. Each time your hopes rise, you find that they plummet to new depths. You and Marc have been trying for a baby for months now. It should be effortless; women who don’t even want to get pregnant find themselves with a child. So why is it so hard for you? What are you being punished for? Whose body is failing—yours, or Marc’s? 

You lean forward where you are seated on the toilet’s closed seat, elbows planted on your knees. Tears burn at your eyes. How there can still be more tears left within you, you don’t know. A sound catches your attention and you look up, dreading to see Marc’s knowing, exhaustively apologetic expression, but instead it is Jake standing there. 

They share a body, but you can pick each of them out in a lineup. Anger flares in your belly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice thick with tears. You hold up the test. “Don’t worry. It’s negative. Or did you come to rub it in?” 

Jake says nothing. He doesn’t need to. He has been the most vocal, outspoken advocate against your potential pregnancy. He looks at you now with quiet, empty eyes, face set in its typical frown, hands deep in his pockets. Hoping to spook him off (he often makes it clear that he doesn’t enjoy your presence and would prefer to be anywhere but around you), he startles you by stepping into the narrow bathroom. He sits on the lip of the tub, so close that your knees almost brush.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you say, feeling cruel, wishing to hurt him half as much as you hurt. “If you even are. Don’t be sorry for me. Don’t tell me whatever bullshit line you have about how it will happen when it’s meant to, how everything just happens in its own time.” 

“I don’t know that it will happen,” he says. You go quiet. His words, though truthful, have tears spilling from your eyes. You stare at him, sensing that he has more to say, and oddly curious to hear it. “I don’t know that it will ever happen. I don’t believe in things being meant to be. Nothing is on purpose. I don’t know why good things happen to bad people or why bad things happen to good people. People like you.” 

Quiet and tired, you wonder: “What do you know, then?” 

He looks you in the eye, his gaze usually so intense that you cannot meet it for long, but this time softer, easier to bear. “I know that we will love you regardless. Come out when you’re ready. We’ll be waiting.”

Jake stands and leaves, gently shutting the door behind him.