#dysfunctional family you know. They work just barely

[quotidianish]

A tiny au dump (with doodles inspired by some tags I saw <3 )

[moonstruckme]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing and i’d thought i’d try to request a remus lupin x reader kinda hurt comfort fic or blurb? Reader comes from a dysfunctional family where her dads alway angry and she feels like she’s walking on egg shells when around him and her mom throws all responsibilities like taking care of younger sibling onto reader so they always feel like they aren’t doing enough and they kind of cary these traits into their relationship with remus? maybe remus comes home from a hard day at work and reader can immediately sense he’s in a bad mood and like gets really quiet and starts working on the house instead of spending time with him bc she thinks he will be mad or something

This was way longer than i intended it to be im sorry😭 and I totally understand if this was too much or a topic that you don’t wanna write about there is no pressure at all!!!

love ya! -anon

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: implied past harmful/abusive dynamics

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 849 words

If the sharp turn of his key in the lock didn’t tip you off to Remus’ mood, the way he shuts the door behind him would. Automatically, your mind starts whirring with the things you can do. 

Your boyfriend has barely taken his shoes off before you’re in the kitchen, unloading the overfull dish rack. You’ve no idea how you let it go this long; some of these things have been dry for days. You’re shutting drawers and cabinets as softly as you can, wary of worsening Remus’ irritation with a racket. 

“Hey.” He pads into the kitchen, reaching for you. 

“Hi.” You smile and give him a kiss. His hands start to come around your waist, but you pull away in favor of grabbing a pot from the rack. 

“What’re you up to?” he asks. The exhaustion in his voice has a terse edge that makes your fingertips crackle with nervous energy. 

“Just tidying a bit.” 

“Want some help?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply in your most serene voice. “You’ve only just got home, why don’t you relax?” 

Remus hesitates a handful of moments, watching as you go back to whizzing about the kitchen before wordlessly retreating to the living room. 

Once the dish rack is empty, you decide to start filling it up again. There’s an unwashed pot on the stove, an old container of leftovers in the fridge, and a handful of dishes on the coffee table. You make yourself as scarce as you can when you go to retrieve the last. Remus is still emanating traces of a worn-thin temper from where he sits on the couch, reading his book, and you try to minimize the clatter of the dishes as you stack them. When there’s a sigh, you try even harder. 

“Would you stop for a second?” 

You freeze in your tracks. “Stop what?” 

“Just,” he shakes his head, frustrated, “put the dishes down.���

You obey wordlessly. 

Remus looks at you with something you can’t decipher in his expression. “Now would you come here, please?” 

You walk over to him, tensing for—you don’t know what. You don’t think Remus would hit you, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to shout. You’re stiff with anticipation nonetheless. 

He reaches for you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, slotting against him naturally, the way you always do. Remus presses both palms into your back, hugging you tighter than usual but not enough to hurt. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck. “What’s going on with you?” he asks, and he sounds like the soft, grumbly version of himself that tells you to stop fidgeting at 4 a.m. before trapping you in his hold. You start to relax. 

“You seem like you’ve had a hard day,” you say. Not quite an admittance, but close. 

“I have,” Remus agrees. “I was hoping to come home and relax with you. Maybe have a kiss if you were feeling generous.” His teasing comforts you further, and you don’t flinch when he adjusts his hold so he can look you in the eyes. “Are you being weird because you know I’m in a bad mood?” 

When he puts it like that it sounds so silly. This is how you’ve learned to be around hot tempers, quiet and useful, but of course Remus would want someone to console him. To be with him instead of hiding away. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. Your hands smooth over his shoulders, a belated comfort. 

He sighs, and this time when you hear the frustration in the sound you know it’s not meant for you. Remus takes your face in both hands, pressing a firm kiss to your brow before resting his own against it. 

“Nobody’s angry with you,” he says softly. 

“I know,” you reply just as quietly. “If I think about it, I know you wouldn’t be. It’s just…” 

“Old habits die hard?” he guesses. There’s a wry twist to his tone. 

You hum apologetically. 

Remus lets his cheek slide along yours, pulling you in for another hug. This one is gentler, his hand running the length of your back and squeezing in all the right places. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I’m sorry I came home so cross, sweetheart. I never want to worry you.” 

“I like to worry about you a little,” you tease, and you can sense the reward of your boyfriend’s smile spreading unwillingly over your shoulder. “And it’s not fair to expect you not to have any bad feelings around me. That’s just normal.”

Remus hums thoughtfully. “What if we try this: when you’re feeling like I’m upset, you just say something and we’ll talk about whether it has anything to do with you. Do you think that would work for you?” 

You turn your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder. Remus’ palm cruises down the curve of your spine as you let out a breath. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks.” 

“Thank you, lovely.” He tucks his chin to skim a kiss over your temple. “This is just what I needed. I feel better already.”

[inkspiredwriting]

The Perfect Birthday

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This little one shot is for @craftyangelpainter. I hope you had a great birthday, and I hope this puts a little smile on your face

Warnings: none

It was a warm afternoon at Five and Y/n’s house, the living room festooned with balloons and streamers. Y/n’s birthday cake stood proudly on the table, a beautiful creation with intricate frosting, baked by Y/n herself because, as usual, she didn't want to burden anyone. Five had worked tirelessly to pull this day together, ensuring everything was perfect for his wife. But as the hours ticked by, the cracks in the celebration started to show.

The whole family had gathered at Five’s insistence, which had been no small feat. As much as they had been through together, getting all the Hargreeves siblings in the same room often felt like trying to contain a tornado in a jar. But for Y/n, Five was determined to make it happen. She deserved it.

Lila and Diego arrived with their three kids in tow, looking tired but managing some smiles for Y/n. However, it wasn’t long before Lila started mentioning their need to head home early. “We’ll have to leave soon,” she said, half-heartedly stirring her drink. “The kids have school tomorrow, and Diego and I are running on fumes.”

Five clenched his jaw. He understood, of course, but this was Y/n’s birthday—one day for his wife to feel celebrated by the people she had grown to care about.

Across the room, Klaus sat huddled on the couch, looking anxious. Without his powers, he had been jittery, afraid of everything from the weather to his own shadow. “I’ll be honest,” he said, his voice shaky as he glanced around nervously, “I’m just trying to keep my anxiety at bay. All this... mortality stuff is really getting to me.”

Ben sat at the far end of the table, scowling at nothing in particular. He poked at his food, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone. “Can we get this over with?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. I don’t like any of you.”

Allison, who had been on her phone for most of the gathering, finally piped up. “I really need to get back to Claire,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I promised her I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

Luther, ever the optimist, was the only one genuinely thrilled to be there. “Come on, guys, it’s Y/n’s birthday!” he exclaimed, trying to rally some enthusiasm. “Let’s at least try to make it a good time.”

Y/n, for her part, was putting on a brave face. She moved around the room, smiling, offering food, making sure everyone was comfortable. But Five could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had spent so much time thinking of others, doing everything she could to make his dysfunctional family feel welcome. And what did she get in return? Barely any effort.

As the evening wore on, Viktor stood up, slipping his jacket on quietly. “I need to head back to Canada,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “The bar isn’t going to run itself.”

That was the final straw for Five.

He slammed his drink down on the table, the sudden noise silencing the room. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by the outburst. Five rarely lost his temper now, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Are you kidding me?” Five snapped, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained fury. “You ungrateful assholes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but Five wasn’t done.

“Except Luther,” he added quickly, pointing at his taller brother, who looked caught between relief and awkwardness. “At least he’s trying. But the rest of you? Seriously? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Diego frowned, stepping forward. “What’s your problem, Five? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you’re here, alright,” Five retorted. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? Emotionally? You couldn’t care less. Lila and Diego can’t stop talking about leaving, Allison’s glued to her phone like she has something better to do, and Klaus is too busy wallowing in his fear of death to even be present.”

“I have reasons for that!” Klaus interjected weakly, but Five ignored him.

“And Ben?” Five’s voice rose. “Ben can’t even pretend to care. He’s sitting there like we dragged him here against his will.”

Ben crossed his arms, glaring at Five. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, but even he didn’t try to walk away.

Five took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger but failing miserably. “You know who’s done everything for you? Y/n. She’s always gone out of her way to help you, to make you feel like part of this family. She’s been more of a sibling to you than most of you have been to each other. And now, on her birthday, you can’t even pretend to celebrate her?”

The room was dead silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“She bakes for you, she listens to your problems, she does everything she can to make this dysfunctional mess of a family feel like home. And what do you give her in return? Excuses. Half-assed effort. This?” Five gestured around the room, his frustration boiling over.

Y/n looked mortified, trying to tug at Five’s sleeve, her voice a soft plea. “Five, it’s fine—"

“It’s not fine, Y/n!” Five cut her off, his voice softer but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You deserve so much better than this.”

He turned back to his siblings, his green eyes blazing. “You know what? If you can’t even give her a few hours of your time to show her how much she means, then you can leave. Go back to whatever it is you think is more important than being here for her.”

There was a long pause. Lila and Diego exchanged guilty looks, while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably. Even Ben seemed to shrink a little under Five’s fierce gaze. Allison put her phone down, looking at Y/n with something close to shame in her eyes.

“I…” Viktor began, but then he sighed, taking off his jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Luther, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. “Let’s start over. We’ll stay as long as you want. It’s your day, Y/n.”

The others slowly nodded in agreement, clearly shaken by Five’s outburst. Lila gave Diego a small nudge, and he sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll stay. Sorry, Y/n.”

Klaus, looking awkward but sincere, added, “I’ll, uh… try to be less scared of everything.”

Ben grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move to leave. Even Allison offered a small smile. “I’ll stay. For you, Y/n.”

Y/n, who had been standing quietly beside Five, finally spoke. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking at her husband with a mix of affection and exasperation. “But thank you.”

Five pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve it. You always do.”

And for the rest of the evening, the Hargreeves siblings did their best to make up for their earlier behavior. Laughter filled the room, stories were shared, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like a real family gathering. Five kept a protective arm around Y/n, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

As the night wound down, Y/n looked around at the scene and smiled. “You know,” she said quietly to Five, “it wasn’t the perfect birthday… but it’s pretty close.”

Five smirked, kissing her cheek. “I told you I’d make it happen.”

And in that moment, Y/n knew just how lucky she was to have Five, even in the chaos that surrounded their lives.

[icarusredwings]

Im watching poolverine the movie- UUHHH, I MEAN Deadpool and Wolverine for the 6th time, and not only did I accidently stream it downstairs on accident, but I made some notes.

Ngl mcu wade scarred or not is hot as fuck. Like, idk man, I'd bang him as long as al didnt yell at me. She scares me.

I like how self-aware he is in the beginning. That he lashes out when nervous or upset.

How he tries his best to apologize for cursing but accidently ends up backhanding it with even more inappropriate information (do we think our boy has Tourettes or do we think he just lets the inside thoughts outside too often?)

The implication that he's dreamed of having children is very sweet but dude lowkey just said "Yeah but I get too much anal and oral for that :( ah well. Maybe one day"

He's fully aware that he hates his life, and all he has to look forward to is his little dysfunctional family, such as talking to Colossus about medicore tv

His current best friend being a little weirdo who asks barely legal lesbians to tug his literal chain (not a good look on you peter- like seriously dont... dont do that.. Logan would have punched you so hard if he saw that)

Coming to Al half way through the party to decompress, his banter with negasonic and happy little face when he see Yukio

Love his and vanessas "make a wish buddy" "going down 10 4" thing. How she looks at him so fondly. As if wishing he was like this all the time but knows just how hard he's masking. How he tries SO hard to make normal small talk but Vanessa made the mistake of telling wade her new boyfriends name so now he's concreting that shit in his head so he can kill him later.

Saying 'Stop that, eyes on me' worked a little TOO well. Baby boy needs 1st grade instructions. Someone write a fic of this. My boy loves him some simple instructions. Its something his adhd can handle.

Love (sarcasam) how this is supposed to be a buddy movie but the second an old man slaps his ass he is SO happy and confident LMAO like Bro CHILL you're a victim. AGAIN. Try not to be too happy about that bud. Also Once that mask is on, he's GONE. Way more rude and flirty, 100 times less apologetic, more violent, and less understanding. You can tell it's been a while since he's let it out.

[bamsywrites]

"What if....?" Halbrand AU

Pairing: Modern AU! Sauron/Halbrand x bookshop owner!Reader

Summary: What if Sauron was angry sludge for a couple 100,000 more years? What if all that time mellowed him out just a little? What if he meets Sweet One and is still completely unhealthily obsessed with her? And what if she asked him to put up Christmas lights?

Tags: Christmas AU, friends to lovers, romantic tension, two losers in love, short lil drabble

Notes: Yes, this is an AU of my own Fic, but it's happier, and I like happy. I knew this was a bad idea because I wanna keep writing this. There is one of the funniest lines I think I've ever written and was honestly the inspiration for this whole mini drabble.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” he mumbled to himself, the air was so cold his breath came out in puffs. His fingers were red and raw, having insisted that he had no need for your gloves despite your protests. He'd be fine in his jeans and thick flannel, he had argued, but he'd regretted it mere seconds after getting atop the ladder to place these damned lights.

He was The Dark Lord. The Deceiver. He had ripped elves apart with his bare hands. He had leveled cities. He had waited and bid his time for ages untold to bring his rule to bring the races of Middle Earth to their knees.

Now he was putting up Christmas lights outside a bookshop.

Why? He could wave his hand and make everyone think there were lights, decorations, a goddamn 12 foot Santa.

“Who the fuck even is Santa?” He mumbled to himself.

But he couldn't do any of that because you had asked him to hang lights.

His jaw set as he continued to work.

You. You were the reason for this. The moment he laid eyes on you, he gave it all up. All ambition. All desire for power or control. All sense of immortality. All for you. He had yet to know if you felt the same, but he did know that you were his salvation. You were good, and you were pure and looking into your heart and soul. He realized that his search for perfection ended with you.

And, if that meant hanging these stupid fucking lights, then so be it.

It took him 20 more minutes and approximately 135 more ‘fucks’ before he he was done and walking back into your shop.

“Told ya you'd need gloves,” you spoke with a smirk as you organized a few books.

“I needed no such thing, sweet one,” he spoke, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“Well, either way, thank you. You're very appreciated.”

“Couldn't imagine making you get atop that ladder and do it yourself.” He responded, wetting his lips. He watched as you lit a candle, and the smell of vanilla and peppermint filled his nose.

“You really like this Christmas shit, don't you?”

“You don't?”

He shook his head, pressing his tongue against his teeth. “Nope. My family had too much…drama. Angst. Fighting.”

“Trust me, I know about dysfunctional families. I drowned it all out with old Christmas movies. Frosty the Snowman, the slow-motion puppet movies, there's so many. I love all of em.”

“And see, I've not seen a single one.”

“That's a shame,” You were back to stocking books onto shelves. You looked at one, pursing your lips, and he saw a twinkle in your eye. “What're you doing this weekend?”

He shrugged, eyebrows furrowed, “Nothing planned.” He watched you, fighting a smile and trying to act oblivious. He was nervous, truth be told, but a good nervous. A nervous that bubbled up in his stomach. It felt almost like…

Butterflies.

When was the last time he'd felt this kind of nervous excitement ? Had he ever felt like this?

You were full of surprises. You were an enigma. He didn't understand you, and though he desperately wanted to, he liked that you were different.

He watched the nervous twitch of your fingers, the way your teeth dug into your lip, he could see the thoughts racing behind your eyes as you approached him. You held a stack of thick chapter books to your chest as if to guard your heart. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, and your eyes focused on the floor.

“Would you, maybe, like…” You inhaled and looked up at him, the butterflies in his stomach exploding into fireworks, “Would you like to come over on Friday? We could order something to eat, I could make cookies, and I could show you my favorites.”

The way your teeth bit down on your tongue, the blush to your cheeks, how your features scrunched in preparation for his response, all this was kindling to a fire.

“ Yeah… but are you sure that a weekend is enough time?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “It sounds like you have a lot of favorites, and I would really hate to make you choose between them.”

He watched as your breath caught in your chest. He had to fight the smirk that threatened to spread across his lips. He was a master manipulator, and it was taking all of his prowess to hide his true emotions at this moment.

“ Well, I mean, I'm not doing anything Saturday either if you wanted to stay the night and watch more in the morning.” Your fingers nervously stroked the top of the pages while your grip on the books got tighter.

“ Well then, I'm all yours,” He smirked down at you. “ I've never really seen a Christmas movie, I'll be glad to finally get some under my belt.” He watched you gently and hoped that you would fall for the bait that he had planted.

And by the way you shifted your weight between your feet and your eyes quickly looked down before making contact with his again, he knew he had won.

“ I am free all weekend,” you told him, your voice stuttering as the words left your lips. “ I wouldn't mind showing you more of the classics.”

He smirked and nodded, feeling victorious at the thought of spending almost three days with you. "Then that sounds like a plan.”

“ Yeah, a weekend long sleepover. But... you know... just as friends.”

“ Yeah, I know, just as friends.”

Despite his words, he couldn't help how his eyes traveled down to quickly glance at your soft, lush lips. Nor could he control how his mind wandered to how they might feel.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 5 - The man I used to be

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 5.6K

TWs: Angst, crying, angry!Elvis, self-esteem issues all-round, erectile dysfunction, body worship, praise kink, some smutty bits.

A/N: This is a difficult chapter for a number of reasons - there's a lot going on and a lot of complex emotions. Thanks to everyone who has commented and re-blogged so far, comments are life so the more I get the happier I am! And I know if you're enjoying it.

Elvis spends the next day wondering what he’s doing with Tegan. He sits at the piano, mid-afternoon, running through some scales and a few snatches of songs. He looks around the empty living room. It’s harder to get a house full of people nowadays. The guys are older and they spend more time with their families than they used to. He can get plenty of people round for an event - the barbeque the other weekend proved that - but there’s not the constant presence of guys and fans and family like back in the seventies or even the eighties. The divorce had coincided with a slow drift of people out of his life and into their own. Lisa doesn’t even stay in Graceland when she’s back in Memphis, even though he’d tried asking her to. She’s working on her new relationship, and she wants to spend time with her boyfriend when she’s in Memphis, not with her dad.

For the first time in a long time, Elvis realises he’s lonely. He’s been keeping himself busy for years now with the karate schools, but he can’t stay in Memphis for more than a month at a time. It’s hard to persuade someone to come round for dinner every night; sometimes he has to eat alone. He’s kept moving so he barely notices, but sitting in the living room at Graceland, silent save for his absent-minded piano tinkling, he realises how much he craves company. Last night had gone by so quickly, Tegan was so easy to talk to and her skin was so soft. He’s missed more than just conversation and company. He’s missed sex too. He had liked playing with her and finding out what turns her on, and he had liked watching her lose herself to pleasure too. 

He puts the lid down on the piano and rests his elbows on it, head in his hands. He remembers calling her a needy thing because she wanted to see him before Tuesday. He groans. He wants to see her right now, and he wants to keep her here with him forever. It hurts, being here alone, being without her, wanting her so badly. The loneliness that he’d been holding at bay for so long comes crashing through his defences, hitting him like a tidal wave. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes and run down his nose, splashing on the piano lid. Fuck. 

“Daddy?”

He’d been so wrapped up in his own sadness he hadn’t noticed the sound of the door closing and when he looks up he sees Lisa standing there, with Riley and Ben. He quickly wipes his eyes and stands up.

“Hey! How are my two favourite grandkids, hm?”

Riley rolls her eyes, letting him hug her. “We’re your only grandkids, Elvis.”

He looks up at Lisa. “She got this from you, y’know. Callin’ me Elvis.”

Lisa laughs and tells both kids to go and raid the kitchen for lunch. 

Riley runs off towards the kitchen immediately but Ben pauses, unsure. He tugs Elvis’ sleeve. Elvis bends down and picks him up easily, cuddling the little boy to him and kissing the top of his head. 

“What’s up, punk?”

Lisa snorts at her dad calling her son “punk”. 

“Have you been crying?” Ben puts a little hand against Elvis’ face and stares into his eyes with grave concern. 

“Little bit.”

“Why?”

Elvis lets out a huff of air. Why had he been crying? “Jus’ felt a little sad, s’all.” He brushes Ben’s hair back off his forehead. “Much happier now you’re here.” He squeezes the little boy tightly and then looks at him again to see how that statement fell. 

Ben’s big eyes still look worried. Lisa thinks he’s way too worried, always, for a five year old. 

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I’m better now you and Riley are here? Of course I’m sure. Why dontcha go help ya sister find some lunch, hm? Mary’ll help ya. Ya must be hungry, growin’ little fella like you?”

Ben nods solemnly and allows himself to be put down, walking slowly and purposefully to the kitchen. Elvis frowns a little. “Are ya sure he’s five and not fifty five, Yis?”

She sighs and puts an arm around her dad, laying her head on his shoulder. “Well he’s very perceptive for a five year old, I’ll give him that. You ok?”

“Think anyone coulda seen me cryin’ back there. Even a little kid.”

His arm goes around her too, pulling her close. 

“You okay?” She asks again. 

Elvis makes a sort of grumbling noise and moves to sit on the sofa. Lisa sits next to him and waits patiently for a response. Or, as patiently as she can. When another two minutes of strange silence have passed she huffs and pokes him in the side. 

“You gonna tell me?”

“Not gonna get away without, am I?” He mutters. “Lonely here, Yis. On my own a lot.”

“What about Tegan?”

“Saw her last night.” His face breaks into a smile. “She came for dinner.”

Lisa sits up and grins. “And?”

The smile continues to play on his lips as he thinks about her on his lap all night, talking to him about her tattoos. “It was good.”

“Good? Is that it?!”

“I like her, Yis. I really like her. But she’s so much younger, I jus’... I dunno.”

Lisa shakes her head. “Don’t see what difference that makes. She’s not Stella, or mom. She’s her own person. You have to give it a try on its own terms.”

“‘M tryin’.”

“Why don’t you invite her round for lunch now?”

He shakes his head. “‘M try’na take it slow.”

Lisa falls back against the sofa cushions with a bump, sighing loudly. “Why?”

Elvis pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Because I don’t wanna fuck it up, okay?” He stands up and starts to move towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get somethin’ to eat if the locusts haven’t got ta everythin’ already.”

Lisa watches him go, and then realises she’s hungry too and gets up herself. She’s surprised at her dad taking anything slowly, but perhaps he knows what he’s doing. She supposes she’ll have to wait and see.

***

“Ya need to really protect yourself with yer arms. No. C’mere.” Elvis stands in front of Tegan, a forearm in each hand, and manoeuvres them around as she steps back. “Y’see?”

She tries hard to keep a straight face but she can’t help giggling. “Yeah… kinda.”

Elvis puts on a mock-serious face. “No laughin’ at karate. ‘Sa serious sport.”

Still trying not to laugh, she attempts the block again, but when he grabs one of her arms and moves it where it’s supposed to go she fails and starts giggling.

“C’mon. Again. On yer own.”

Letting out a breath, she tries to compose herself. “O-okay. So, like… this?” 

He shrugs a little and gives his head a little shake. “Better than it was before. Practise at home. Now, step forward and snap punch. No… mid-chest. C’mon. Really try an’ punch me. That’s better.”

He makes her go through the two step move a few more times and then tells her and the rest of the group that they can go and get another drink. She gulps down some water and then passes the bottle to Maria. 

“You two are getting on well,” Maria observes with a wry smile. 

Tegan can’t help smiling back. “Yeah. I went to Graceland for dinner at the weekend.”

“You did?” Maria’s eyebrows shoot to the ceiling. “You didn’t mention it!”

“Well, I know you’re not keen.”

“Oh T, it’s not that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tegan nods slowly. “I know.” She’s about to continue when Elvis calls them back to class. “I’ll tell you later.”

When the class finishes the rest of the students file out and Elvis realises only Tegan and Maria are left. Maria realises too, telling her friend she’ll see her in the car and giving Elvis a quick wave. Tegan picks up her bag as he makes his way towards her, a broad smile on his face. 

“Ya need ta practice more at home,” he tells her, forefinger under her chin, tipping her face towards his so he can press a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Maybe I need some private tuition?” 

He takes his sunglasses off and holds her face firmly in his hand, kissing her deeply. Her hands make their way around his neck as she presses her body against his. 

“Ya can come home with me right now an’ I’ll teach ya some things…” he mumbles against her lips, intoxicated by the feel of her, the way she smells. 

“Yes please.”

He pulls back, resting his forehead against hers, panting a little. “I shouldna said that.”

She pouts a little. “Why?”

“I’m tryna take this slow.”

She groans. “Well don’t kiss me like that then!” 

“Sorry, honey. Got carried away. Yer always makin’ me get carried away…” he strokes her cheek gently with his finger. 

“Maybe that means something? Maybe you should just… get carried away.”

He giggles, his apple cheeks prominent as he looks down at her. “Temptin’. But ya should go home, sure ya have work in the mornin’…”

“Well, yeah. You still coming for dinner at the weekend?”

He nods. “Sure am.”

“Okay, see you then.”

***

Elvis enjoys dinner at Tegan’s apartment. She cooks him a roast and he teases her about nearly all of the components, but he gobbles down the whole plate and asks for seconds. She even manages to persuade him to try a gin and tonic, although he doesn’t ask for a second one of those. They talk and joke around and at some point the teasing turns to touching and he’s making her cum on her sofa this time. She asks again, but he’s still not interested in getting anything in return. Their relationship continues like this for weeks - they see one another on Saturday nights and at karate, they get closer, but not too close. He gives her an orgasm every time he sees her, but he won’t even take his shirt off, never mind let her touch his dick. He brings her flowers and trinkets, but he’s afraid to take her out in public in case they’re hounded by the press. She loves being with him, but she feels like he keeps her at arm’s length. She’s fully in this, but it’s like he’s just standing in the shallow end, watching her. 

She doesn’t feel like she can tell Maria, so when her friend asks she just says everything’s going well, they’re taking it slowly, getting to know each other. But she’s not sure how much longer she can keep waiting for him to feel more comfortable with her, or want to dive right in the deep end and lose control. She can’t understand what’s holding him back, and is trying to work out how to broach the subject with him at Graceland that evening, when the phone rings unexpectedly and it's Elvis inviting her to the zoo. First of all she thinks he’s joking, and then when she realises he’s not she agrees enthusiastically. She does love animals, and they will actually be seen together in person. Perhaps she’s been patient enough, and she doesn’t need to talk to him at all. Things have just worked out on their own. He tells her he’ll pick her up in half an hour and she hurries to get ready. 

***

“Honey, ya need ta know somethin’,” Elvis tells her as she gets into the car and he kisses her hello. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Ya might be in the papers tomorrow. If someone spots us an’ takes a photo…”

She shrugs. How bad could it be? “Okay, cool.”

He stares at her intensely for a moment. “They could say all kindsa things about ya. Jus’ want ya ta be prepared.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Elvis doesn’t think she’s taking him seriously enough but he’s not sure what else he can say. 

She sees him frowning a little and kisses his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Take me to the zoo!”

***

Tegan enjoys the zoo until the paparazzi arrive. She’d thought that because there was hardly anyone outside Graceland anymore and people in the karate classes treated him mostly as if his being there was completely normal, that the press wasn’t bothered about Elvis Presley anymore. Boy was she wrong. Someone had obviously tipped them off, and from the penguin enclosure onwards they were harassed by men with cameras and reporters shouting questions. Wanting to know who she was, how they met, how long they’d been together, did they plan to get married? Had she met his daughter, was she the same age as his daughter, what were they doing at the zoo? And another million intrusive questions that Elvis starts off answering politely and eventually instructs Sonny to answer “no comment” to, on his behalf. 

“Goddamnit,” he hisses, as they finally get back into the car. He pulls the curtains so that no-one can see in through the windows and Sonny drives them this time. “I knew it’d be bad. Didn’t think it’d be that bad.”

Tegan feels a little overwhelmed herself but Elvis is her main concern. He’s gripping one of her hands tightly and sweat is running down his face as he mumbles about the paparazzi and the damn reporters. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his thigh. 

He huffs air out of his nose like a furious bull. “None of their goddamn business. Any of it.”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t get upset.”

He abruptly lets go of her hand and springs back from her. “Don’t get upset!” He exclaims, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. “Don’t get upset! Goddamn.”

Tegan isn’t going to be put off that easily. “I just mean, don’t let them get to you like this. I don’t like to see you so upset.”

She rubs his arm now, in the same gentle but firm way. 

“Well it doesn’t matter what ya like, does it?” He spits. “I’m fucking upset.”

It’s Tegan’s turn to spring back now, eyes flaming. “Don’t fucking take it out on me!”

Sonny looks at the curtain in the rearview mirror, not that it reveals anything. He’d warned Elvis about going to the zoo in the middle of the day, but to be fair not even he had thought it would be this bad. Both of them were unused to the ferocity of the paparazzi, even in Memphis. He’s surprised that Tegan bit back though. He had thought of her as a little timid for some reason. 

They stare at one another for a while, both furious but neither able to decide the next move. Elvis can’t remember the last time a woman yelled at him and he’s shocked into silence, and Tegan is furious about the way he spoke to her, and isn’t about to back down. She didn’t like his tone just then and it was making her want to tell Sonny to pull the car over so she could get out. 

Eventually Elvis huffs loudly and turns away from her, staring straight ahead at the curtain, realises that it’s still closed and opens it with a grunt. Daylight pours into the back of the car and Tegan squints and looks around for her sunglasses. 

“Sorry,” Elvis mutters sheepishly, when he thinks she’s suitably occupied digging about in her handbag. 

She pauses, then looks over at him. “It’s okay.”

He takes a few steadying breaths and then looks at her properly. “Ya were right, I was takin’ it out on ya. Ya were only tryna calm me down.”

Sliding her sunglasses on, she looks over at him. “I know. You were being an arse.”

Sonny catches Elvis’ eye in the mirror and all three of them burst out laughing. Elvis doesn’t think anyone has ever called him an arse before, but he has to admire her for doing it. 

“Yer lucky I’m lettin’ ya get away with that,” he replies, winking behind his glasses. 

They drive back to Graceland, and Sonny and his wife join them for dinner. Tegan has met Sonny’s wife a couple of times and is getting to like her, and Judy is fond of the younger woman too. Her and Sonny had both remarked to each other, and Elvis himself, how much happier he seems lately, and Judy wants to make sure he stays that way almost as much as her husband does. They all watch a little TV together and play some cards, and Tegan is happy to spend some time with people who’ll actually drink with her. Although, as she watches Sonny finish off his fourth bourbon rocks, she wonders who is going to drive her home. 

Judy yawns delicately and then gives Sonny a sharp elbow in the side. He looks around a little slowly, his reactions dulled by all the bourbon. 

“Huh? Oh…” he looks over at Elvis and Tegan, who are cuddled up on the sofa at this point. “I uh… think we should be getting home.”

“Oh.” Elvis suddenly clocks that Sonny is drunk and he doesn’t know how he’s going to get Tegan home. “Yeah, sure. Thanks fer comin’.”

They get up and say their goodbyes, and once they’ve left Elvis turns to Tegan. “I spose I better drive ya, honey.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and then slides them down over his chest. “Or… I could stay over?”

He can feel his face getting red thinking about her seeing him naked. It had been a very long time since a woman had seen him naked. 

“I…um…”

She starts to slowly unbutton his shirt, moving to press soft kisses to the skin she uncovers there. His chest hair is white like the hair on his head, and she’s seen it before underneath his gi. But she hasn’t ever got to touch it, and she can’t help running her fingers through it as she continues to unbutton his shirt. He feels like he’s completely frozen on the spot, just watching her as she carries on with her little touches and kisses until his shirt is hanging open. 

“Please?” She puts her head to one side and tries to look cute. 

His breathing is uneven as he stares down at her, still unable to formulate a response. She gently pushes his shirt off his shoulders and encourages his arms out of the sleeves. He stands in front of her, topless, watching as she presses yet more kisses up his arms and across his chest. His eyes flick uneasily down to his belly, which isn’t exactly small these days, but that gets kisses too, and gentle touches, and he can feel himself melting. 

“C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay,” he finally replies, trying to get some of the upper hand back by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs.

She giggles, her arms around his neck, pleased at being literally swept off her feet. He manages to open the door to his bedroom without putting her down, and she stares around it in wonder, squinting into the darkness. 

“I’ll put a lamp on,” he mumbles, putting her down carefully and moving over to the side of the bed, flicking a switch. 

It doesn’t get much lighter in the room, but she can see the size of the bed which is almost unreal. She shivers a little. It’s not exactly warm; it seems like he has the AC on full blast. He looks over at her nervously, but she’s still occupied looking around, so he moves over to one of the sets of drawers and searches for some pyjamas. He’d be more comfortable in them and probably so would she. It takes him a few minutes to locate a couple of sets and when he turns back his mouth actually drops open looking at her. She’s standing there, completely naked, looking over at him. 

“H-honey… I… yer…” he can’t make the words come out of his mouth. He’s seen everything before but not all at once, and it’s kind of overwhelming. “Yer naked,” he finally manages. 

She giggles. “Yeah I know. This is how I sleep. And walk around the apartment sometimes too.”

His eyes somehow get even wider. “Ya walk around like that? I don’t think ya should…”

She shrugs and then rubs her arms with her hands, melodramatically. “I’m getting cold. Why don’t you come over here and warm me up?”

“Well if ya were wearin’ clothes…” he starts, but he’s walking towards her anyway, and she cuts him off with a kiss, pressing her naked body up against his. He moans into her mouth. Her skin feels so good against his, he can even feel those little metal bars in her nipples, a tiny touch of cold. His hand spreads across her back, pulling her in even closer, but somehow he doesn’t stop her wandering hands. One skates down his back but the other sneaks between them and before he can do anything, she’s squeezing his still soft dick. She barely reacts when she doesn’t find what she was expecting, but he almost leaps backwards like he’s been burnt. 

“Ah…uh… I’m s-sorry baby… it’s not you… I-I-I…”

“Hey. It’s okay,” she tries to reply but he darts off into the ensuite, pyjamas in hand. 

Tegan sits on the bed for a moment, looking at the closed door and wondering if he plans on hiding out in the bathroom all night. She supposes he won’t, but honestly she can’t tell. The coldness of the room persuades her under the covers, and she wonders what he’s going to say when he eventually comes back into the room again. She was only a little surprised to find him so soft when she touched him. It made sense really, when she thought back over the past few weeks that they’d been together. He never wanted her to return the favour when he gave her an orgasm, he was so awkward about the relationship in the first place, and he never wanted to let her take his clothes off. The look on his face after she’d touched him, the way he’d jumped away from her… it hurts her heart. She just wants to give him pleasure like he’s been giving her for all these weeks, but he seems so damaged about the whole thing. She frowns. It’s not as if he’s the first guy she’s been with who hasn’t been able to get it up sometimes. 

Elvis gets changed shakily, then stands in his pyjamas, gripping the sink with both hands and staring into the mirror. Stupid old man, he thinks. She’ll never be interested now she knows your dick doesn’t work. For a while he seriously considers sleeping on the bathroom floor, but then he realises he can’t get around going back into the bedroom and facing Tegan. He opens the door slowly, walking into the room almost sheepishly. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. This is turning into a day of apologies. 

She pulls the covers back, exposing her naked body to him. He can’t help but look at it hungrily, despite what had just happened. “C’mere.” She pats the mattress next to her. 

“I hope you’re sorry about running off, not anything else?” She asks as he gets in cautiously. 

“Sure I disappointed ya.”

Lying on his back, unable to look at her. 

“I’m not disappointed,” she replies, curling her body around his. “I’ve been looking forward to waking up with you.”

“Thought ya might’ve wanted somethin’ else,” he mutters. 

Her hand rubs his chest, then moves to his belly. She feels him tense and starts to kiss his neck as her hand keeps touching him. 

“I want to make you feel good, ‘raur. I’m not in a rush to do anything else.”

He sighs. “Don’t think that’s really possible.”

“Sure you’re not just out of practice?”

Elvis groans and closes his eyes, willing the conversation away. This is not something he wants to be talking about with anyone, let alone a girl twenty years his junior. 

“Jus’ leave it.”

Tegan doesn’t really want to just leave it, she wants to understand it and find a way to fix it. But Elvis clearly isn’t in the headspace for that kind of conversation right now, so she decides to try a different tack. 

“God, you smell so good.” Burying her face in his chest, she breathes him in. 

He can’t help his lips curling into a half-smile. “Really, Queenie?”

She flicks the top button of his pyjamas open and presses kisses to the exposed skin there, her hand running over his nipple through the shirt. 

“You haven’t called me that in a while. And yes, really.”

He hums with pleasure, his hand running through her hair as she keeps kissing and praising him. 

“You’re so strong, it’s so sexy.”

“Huh?” He’s blushing a little but he doesn’t want her to stop. 

“Carrying me up the stairs.” She looks up at him as she deftly undoes another button. “Very sexy.”

He feels her hand inside his shirt now, rubbing and touching. She pinches a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gets a low moan in response. 

“Q-Queenie…”

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are.” 

She quickly undoes all of the rest of the buttons, and for the second time that evening his shirt is hanging open and her hands and mouth are all over his torso. He lets out a soft sigh and when her hand moves down under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms he doesn’t stop it. She slowly slides his foreskin back and forth, squeezing a little and feeling him start to respond. Her mouth and other hand continue their ministrations on his belly and chest, hoping to distract him from worrying about what his dick might be doing. She feels him getting harder and pushes his pants down so she can get at him more easily, sliding her mouth over the head and giving him little kitten licks. He moans, looking down at her for a moment and then looking away, disgusted by his own body again. His erection starts to fade and he screws his eyes shut and huffs in frustration. She tries to stimulate him for a little longer, but it’s clear it’s not coming back, so she stops, pulling his pyjama bottoms up carefully and leaning her head back on his chest. 

He can’t speak. He doesn’t know whether not being able to get it up at all, or having half an erection that went away when he thought about it too much was worse. Both things were horribly embarrassing, and he can only imagine she’ll leave at the first opportunity, and not want to see him again. 

“We should sleep,” he says, turning over and dislodging her. 

He switches the light off and she stares, confused, into the dark from her position on her back. 

“We can try again in the morning,” she suggests, quietly. 

“Hmmm.”

She still wants to push it, but she knows she shouldn’t. This is too delicate. She wishes she could tell him that she doesn’t care, even if he never gets another erection she’d still want him more than she’s ever wanted anyone, but that seems too much. The intensity of her feelings for him seems like too much, considering how long they’ve known one another. She hasn’t told anyone how she feels; she’s convinced Maria would try and get her committed if she knew. She rolls onto her other side and tries to get to sleep. They can try again in the morning. 

***

Neither of them sleep that well. Even though the bed is huge, they’ve both got used to sleeping on their own and someone else being there is disturbing. Elvis sleeps particularly badly, unable to stop himself wondering what Tegan must think and whether she’ll ever want to see him again. He looks at her as she lies there, peacefully, and wonders what on earth she’s doing in his bed. She could do a lot better. 

“Oh, hi there, gorgeous,” she murmurs as she opens her eyes and sees him leaning over, looking at her. 

He carefully moves her hair out of her eyes. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Her face breaks into a smile. “Mmmmm. Come here.” Pulling his face towards hers, kissing him deeply. 

He shifts, rolling on top of her and relishing the feeling of her hands underneath his unbuttoned shirt, running up and down his back. She lets one trail a little lower, grabbing a handful of his ass and pushing her hips up into his. He can feel himself getting harder, his dick is always a little more cooperative in the morning and something about her body and his drowsy state is turning him on. The thoughts that had plagued him during the night drift away and his head feels pleasantly empty. He finds himself starting to kiss and nip at her neck as she pushes his pyjama bottoms down, feeling him now too. She moves her legs to wrap them around his waist, and as his dick rubs against her pussy she feels delicious pleasure building between her legs. Drowsy too and not caring how she gets there, she moans softly at the feeling. He closes his eyes for a moment, enjoying rolling his hips against her, feeling like a teenager again. But he wants more. Moving back a little, he lines himself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip before starting to push inside. 

But it’s not just Elvis who hasn’t done this in a long time, and Tegan almost yelps at the intrusion. She’s tight at the best of times, and with no warm up and no lube it’s almost impossible. 

“Oh!” She cries out, shifting back from him instinctively. 

The moment it happens, his erection fades. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Elvis, I’m sorry…” she begins, but he just covers himself up again and rolls off her and then out of the bed. 

“Ya want breakfast? Mary’ll make ya eggs. Or… whatever ya want. Come down when yer ready.”

She stares as he takes a robe off the door and wraps it around himself and then just walks out of the room. She feels humiliated and confused. Okay, yeah, he’d gone soft. Embarrassing. But she’d been too small for him, or too tight, or not turned on enough… she gets up slowly, putting on her clothes from the day before. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed in bed and held her for a while. In fact, she’d have liked it. She wishes that’s what he’d done, rather than leaving her like this. Checking her hair in the bathroom mirror, she sighs at her reflection. Maybe if she was more attractive this would all have been easier. 

Walking slowly down the stairs, she looks around again. So opulent. But so quiet. So lonely. When she gets to the kitchen she finds Elvis staring at the Sunday papers. 

Has-been Presley dating woman half his age.

The headline is big, and as she gets nearer she can see a lot of unflattering photos of both of them. Then she sees some of the text of the article. 

Washed up King of Rock n Roll, Elvis Presley, was seen today at Memphis Zoo with a woman young enough to be his daughter. A far cry from the attractive starlets he used to be seen with, the unknown female is hardly a looker.

“Oh wow,” Tegan says, quietly. It’s one thing to know you’re not Helen of Troy, and it’s another thing to see it written there in black and white. 

Elvis had been staring at the paper for a while now, and every so often some of the words had gone in. He knew there would be a nasty story about them, but he’s unused to the reality of it after so long. And he didn’t expect them to be quite this cruel about Tegan. Hearing her voice he’s suddenly spurred into action, tearing out the pages and screwing them up, hurling them across the room. 

“Fucking assholes,” he shouts. 

She puts a hand on his arm. “Elvis, it’s okay.” She doesn’t even really believe herself at this point, after everything that’s already happened this morning, but she feels she has to say something.

“The things they wrote about ya… it’s my fault.” He turns to her and shakes his head sorrowfully. “Ya better go.”

“What?”

“Ya better go. I’m no good for ya. Jus’ go.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“I do.”

Tegan tries begging and pleading with him, tries rationalising the situation, tries to ask why and persuade him to talk. But none of it works. He just keeps repeating that she ought to go and she’d be better off without him. It's like he's shut down completely. Despite his previous pronouncement that cabs don’t come to Graceland, he calls her one and sends her off in it. He won’t even kiss her goodbye. She sits there on the backseat trying to figure out exactly what the fuck had just happened, how she’d gone from him rutting against her in the bed one minute to throwing her out the next. And then she gets home and just cries. And cries. And wonders how the fuck she’s going to get her life back.

***

Part 6

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss

[wangxianficrecs]

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen

Just go forward like you mean it

by tawaen

M, WIP, 67k, Wangxian

Summary: Before Wei Wuxian can say he will join Jiang Cheng and attend the Wen indoctrination, a letter describing the burning of the Cloud Recesses reaches Lotus Pier. Realizing the danger to the Jiang sect, he decides to stay behind to help with the defenses and keep his sect safe. While he agonizes over the fate of the disciples sent as little more than hostages, he upgrades the wards of the Jiang sect to stand against the inevitable Wen army. Lotus Pier will survive, and Wei Wuxian changes his own fate and the fate of the Sunshot Campaign. Kay's comments: A WIP, but only barely! I hope I manage to post this in time for WIP Rec Week, because tawaen updates quickly and there's only one chapter missing! I really, really enjoyed the direction this canon divergence took with Wei Wuxian staying behind in Lotus Pier during the indoctrination and making sure there's at least one person who prepares for the inevitable Wen invasion. I won't spoil much, but he's also becoming a rogue cultivator and finds his way to Lan Wangji sooner and you know, I'm so weak for that. Can't wait for the last chapter! Excerpt: “A decision on aiding the Lan need not be made now. However, our disciples will need to leave early tomorrow. A-Xian, I assume you will go with A-Cheng?” Jiang Fengmian looks over with an indulgent smile, but it is strained at the edges. Jiang Yanli turns in her seat to face him with open concern. She would send no one if that were possible. At some point during the argument she stopped peeling lotus seeds, remaining still and impassive to avoid drawing attention to herself. Her hands clench with her nails digging into her palms. Wei Wuxian didn't even notice. He gives her a reassuring smile. Wei Wuxian salutes, “Uncle Jiang, at this time, I would like to stay in Lotus Pier. We should not send our two best fighters to Qishan. One of us should remain behind in case of further Wen demands.” While Jiang Yanli relaxes slightly, Jiang Cheng turns sharply to look at him with betrayal in his eyes. This would normally make Wei Wuxian change course – but the Lan wards failed. Who is to say the Jiang wards would prevail?

pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, fall of lotus pier, inventor wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, no golden core transfer, sect leader jiang yanli, jiang cheng has no golden core, dysfunctional jiang family, jiang family dynamics, bad parents jiang fengmian and yu ziyuan, developing relationship, friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[drunk-person]

The perfect storm (The Gossip) P.8

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Aemond and Y/n face things in their own ways, the long-awaited charity ball finally begins.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, mentions of past abortion, coercion with money, no description for reader.

Word count: 12.300k

A/n: Birthday update 💕💕💕 (a few hours late, but okay) I hope you like the chapter, I imagined the entrance to the Targaryen ball like the red carpet at the Met Gala, the reporters take pictures for the magazines, but they can't enter! About the songs in the chapter... a little Torn by Hands like houses on the top and Dark Horse by Katy Perry on the bottom.

"Hey, Hey Kings Landing, Y/n Targaryan was photographed this afternoon leaving the apartment complex where her older cousins ​​Aegon and Aemond are known to live, barefoot and in tears. What could be the reason for so many tears and such sadness? Some of our readers found it interesting to highlight our dear girl's deep tan. Where has she been? We know she hasn't been to Black Water Bay!"

❦❦❦

-Y/n… please… open the door. - Aemond begged, feeling his eyes burning as he leaned his forehead against the door, and making his own chest hurt even more he heard her muffled sobs through the thin wood.

-Go away! - She screamed once again. - Please don't hurt me anymore! - And after she screamed that with so much pain amid sobs that made Aemond's heart shatter, he walked towards the elevator with shaky steps, as if he were going to collapse on the floor at any moment.

Aemond got into the car barely feeling his own body, he didn't even remember the path he had taken to get there. The tingling sensation numbed him and when he slammed the door behind him and saw himself in the car mirror, he finally realized he was crying. And with that mess of emotions that he couldn't even manage, he just leaned his head over the steering wheel of the car, still holding the necklace between his fingers and stood there for a few moments trying to get his own breathing back to normal.

And finally starting the car, he returned to the company, which by that time was practically empty due to the time. He didn't even realize how much time had passed since he left there earlier, the afternoon seemed like a blur in his head and without even looking twice at the empty hall where the secretaries usually stayed during work hours he entered his own office, slamming the door behind him.

The air there seemed thin, and Aemond could barely breathe looking at the room. He didn't go back to the apartment because he didn't want to face the happy memories with Y/n that were now trapped there. But it was no use, since his office was infested with her, her laughter, her loving gaze, the soft words she spoke to him, the sweet sounds she made while he took her.

And without thinking, overcome by pain and fury, he threw the folder hard against the wall causing it to open on impact and the laptop to fly out along with the papers that were there. Aemond immediately caught his breath when he saw the colorful drawing of a butterfly flying across the floor along with sketches of clothes, dresses and some notes.

With his chest hurting even more, he bent down and picked up the papers from the floor, feeling his stomach churn when, among the notes and drawings for Y/n's plans, he found a pencil drawing of himself sitting at the table working with a look of concentration. The drawing was perfect in every detail, just like everything Y/n did, and further down the page was written in her delicate handwriting "My handsome businessman" with a heart next to it.

And before he could vomit the gastric juice that was the only thing he had in his stomach, Aemond turned his back and left the office once more, not knowing where to go. Finally, as if on automatic, he found himself in the parking lot of the apartment complex where he lived while trying to decide whether or not to go up there.

And when he finally did, he stopped in front of the apartment door while feeling his insides churn. He couldn't touch the doorknob and open the door, it was as if it would grow teeth and bite him at any moment. The idea of ​​going in there and facing the memories of the last few days was almost suffocating, knowing that when he opened the door Y/n wouldn't jump towards him and kiss him passionately was too painful to bear and with that thought he turned and went towards the elevator once more.

❦❦❧

Aegon was sprawled on the couch wearing only his pajama pants. He had already put Jaehaerys to sleep, and Sunfyre was lying next to the little one on the bed. Suddenly the dog skidded across the floor of the apartment and started barking at the door and Aegon rolled his eyes already knowing who would be there, since Sunfyre always barked like crazy when Aemond arrived.

-What the fuck did you do Aemond? - Aegon asked as he opened the door while Sunfyre jumped with her front paws on Aemond sniffing and licking him. Aemond, who always rolled his eyes and told her to stop while patting her on the head, just stood there in the hallway with his eyes slightly lost, as if someone had ripped his soul from his body again.

-I didn't know where else to go. - He murmured, still looking lost and the older man made room for him to enter, pulling Sunfyre off his brother in an affectionate way while stroking the dog's soft fur.

-I saw the newspapers. - Aegon locked the door, observing Aemond walked slowly to the black leather sofa and sat up straight, staring into space.

-Considering what was in the headlines I'm happy she didn't kill you. - He tried to lighten the mood, but Aemond didn't even blink his eyes, continuing to look at nothing.

The eldest waited a few moments, but Aemond didn't open his mouth. He just sat there, motionless, stroking what Aegon finally realized was the sapphire necklace that Y/n always wore. Aegon couldn't help but make a barely contained grimace, if she had taken that thing off her neck it was because things had really gotten bad between them.

-We'd never fought like that before.- Aemond finally spoke, his eyes glazed over, staring into space, still holding the stone from the necklace tightly.

-Yes because you were seventeen. - Aegon rolled his eyes, pouring a drink while Sunfyre put her paws on the table and looked curiously, he then stroked her neck and walked back towards his younger brother, dodging some of Jaehaerys' toys that were thrown on the carpet. - Everything is beautiful when we are that age. - He rolled his eyes.

-She told me never to look for her again. - Aemond muttered, barely looking in Aegon's direction.

-What really happened? I couldn't even believe it when I saw that shit show in the newspaper. - Aegon rolled his eyes and took a light sip of his drink. - Are you fooling granpa and the Baratheons for more than a year and now this engagement?

-Mother and grandfather found out we were back together. - Aemond murmured. - They showed up at my office yesterday and wanted me to get engaged, I said no, but that I would go to the ball with Floris.

-And then 24 hours later he announced your engagement. - Aegon grimaced in disgust as he caressed Sunfyre's fur. - I'm not surprised, it's just like our grandfather to do something stupid like that.

-Did you try to explain it to Y/n?- He frowned.

-She didn't want to listen to me. I went after her to try to explain it, but this whole thing was already messing with her, the engagement announcement made her lose her mind. - Aemond looked at the floor as he spoke, squinting his eyes slightly as if he could see everything before him once again. - I tried to stay calm, I swear I tried, but when I realized it I had already yelled at her.

-I promised I would never yell at her like that… more than once. - His eyes were glazed, making Aegon remember 5 years ago when Y/n left. - If you saw the look on her face…

-She'll forgive you for this, she loves you. - The eldest shrugged his shoulders, looking at him.

-I said she was just like her father… - Aemond laughed without humor.

Aegon grimaced instantly when he heard that, he knew how it worked, Y/n would never admit any similarity to her father, and she hated when people compared her to him, but every now and then the similarities appeared, especially when she was angry.

Like the time they were kids and a girl in Helaena's class called the older girl a freak and Y/n hit her on the head with the blackboard eraser with all the strength she had. He shuddered as he remembered the slap in the head he got from his mother when he laughed at the whole situation.

-Look, she's mad at you now, for more than one reason, but when her anger passes, she'll agree to talk and everything will be fine.

-How will it be fine? - Aemond burst out, turning to his brother with his eyes burning with rage. -Tell me how? With our grandfather demanding something that I can't do for him? I don't want to get in the way of his business, but I don't know how I can keep doing this!

-The elections are coming and months ago the party made a proposal through our grandfather. - Aemond clenched his hands tightly as he spoke. - They want a younger face in the campaign and I would really have a chance of being elected.

-And where will this choice take you? Do you even really want that? Or does our grandfather want it? - Aegon rolled his eyes and looked at his brother very seriously. - You never wanted to get involved in politics, you always wanted to work at the company.

-What do you really want, Aemond? - The older man arched his eyebrow, looking at him seriously, but still relaxed.

-I want to keep my position at the company and I want to help our grandfather. - He hissed. - But I also want Y/n, I can't live without her!

-You know, I want a fucking cigarette right now. - Aegon threw his head back against the back of the sofa. - But Jae's doctor said that it's not good for him if I smoke, so I'm quitting smoking.

-The thing is, when you really love someone, you have to make sacrifices. - He looked at his brother very seriously as he shook the glass in his hand. - You always knew that there would come a time when you would have to face everything and everyone if you really wanted to be with her. Now that time has come, Aemond. Are you willing?

Aemond stared blankly through the wide window, staring at the sept of Baelor, lit up with hundreds of small artificial lights for some event taking place that night, and the oldest sighed, sinking a little on the sofa before starting to speak again.

-Look… you were still very young when all that pregnancy stuff happened to me and Lyan. - He stirred the drink in his glass slightly. - But our mother and grandfather tried to convince Lyan to have an abortion… with money, obviously. - He raised his eyes and looked at his younger brother. - But she said she would never have the courage to do it.

-So they tried to pay her to say she was lying and that the child wasn't mine.

-She refused? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in confusion since refusing money didn't seem like something Lyan would do.

-No. I refused. - Aegon smiled melancholy. - I said no one would take my son away from me and that I would be part of his life.

Aemond stared at the older man with slightly widened eyes, hearing him talk about this for the first time.

-Do you know what Mother said when I made that decision? That it had been the worst mistake of my life, and that I would regret it forever. - Aegon laughed, looking at the glass that was still half full. - And in the end, it was the best thing that happened to me, Jaehaerys was the best thing I ever did, the best choice I made, and I don't know where I would be without him.

-You need to stop obeying everything mom says. She loves us, but she's not right about everything, and she also doesn't know where our happiness lies. If I had listened to her years ago, I wouldn't be here now, I wouldn't have Jaehaerys. Sometimes we need to take risks and take the reins of our lives into our own hands, even if it hurts the person who usually holds them first.

Aegon's gaze was firm as he spoke, leaving Aemond slightly surprised by his brother.

-Well, what kind of parallel reality is this that we live in, where you're the one giving me advice on how not to ruin my own life? - Aemond laughed lightly, still with sad eyes as he looked at the older man.

-Come on, I have my moments. - Aegon laughed, curling his mouth and eyebrows, putting his feet on the coffee table and drinking the last sip of whiskey.

-And alcohol helps anyone to become a philosopher. - He shrugged his shoulders. - But if our mother asks, I'll say I told you to obey her. - He laughed, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and Aemond just rolled his eyes, leaning his head back on the back of the sofa.

-Daddy! - The scream in Jaehaerys's childish and frightened voice rang through the apartment. - There's a monster under the bed, pulling my little foot!

-Duty calls! - Aegon said, laughing, throwing himself against the back of the sofa before standing up and assuming a look of false seriousness.

-You'd better be gone by the time I get there, Mr. Monster, or you'll feel my fury! - He shouted threateningly, going up the stairs in an exaggeratedly noisy way towards Jaehaerys' room, being faithfully followed by Sunfyre, making Aemond smile slightly.

A few moments later, Aegon came down with Jae in his arms, gently stroking his back and heading towards the kitchen while Aemond watched them closely.

-That monster won't come back? - Jaehaerys asked with a very worried expression to his father, affectionately stroking Sunfyre's golden fur, who had his paws resting on the counter to reach him.

-Of course not! Didn't you see? - Aegon frowned very seriously. - Daddy finished him off! No more evil monsters pulling my baby's feet! - And after saying that, he kissed his son's feet, making the boy laugh and cringe at the tickling while Sunfyre barked and jumped happily around the two.

And even with a slight smile on his face watching his brother playing with his son, Aemond couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart when he remembered all the plans he had made with Y/n, and how all of that could be ruined forever.

❦❦❦

The day dawned and Y/n felt like a living dead, still wearing the same yellow dress from the day before, sitting on the bed, tightly hugging the duvet as she stared at the ceiling, feeling her face pull from the dried tears on her cheeks.

Until the firm knocks on the door made Y/n's heart skip a beat, quickly looking in the direction of the sound.

Aemond.

Still irritated, but relieved that he was back, Y/n threw the duvet aside and ran towards the door without even putting on her slippers, opening it forcefully in her anxiety.

-I told you not to come back… - The words died in Y/n's throat when she saw who was standing in the hallway. It wasn't Aemond, it was Daemon Targaryen, her father.

-Hi Y/n. - He looked her up and down with his serrated mouth and a very serious look on his face.

–Dad? - She spoke almost in a whisper, unable to believe that he was really there. - W-what are you doing here?

-I just came to see you. - He murmured, entering the room while Y/n closed the door, still little static.

-Why now? - She whispered with a shaky voice. - After years?

-I thought maybe you wanted to reconsider that conversation we had years ago. - Daemon just shrugged, looking around the room with a frown, while Y/n remained paralyzed, staring at the door. - Spend time with us in Pentos, meet your younger sisters…

-Why didn't you come get me when I really needed you? - She hissed, pressing her eyes tightly and feeling her stomach suddenly boil.

-I didn't have your guardianship to simply take you out of there whenever I wanted and you know that. - Daemond spoke with a calm voice, staring at her back.

-You didn't even try! - Y/n turned to her father, her eyes shining with a mixture of tears and fury. - You never cared. You never fought for me. You abandoned me like a mangy dog ​​the first chance you got!

-You're my daughter and I care! - Daemond hissed, taking a step towards her while trying to remain calm. - And as much as I didn't want to leave you, we both know that at that time the best thing for you was not to be with me.

-Maybe the best thing for you now is not to be with him.

-No! - Y/n felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed her heart when she heard that assumption, immediately shaking her head.

-You've been here for less than a week, and news of your supposed involvement has already reached the Pentos gossip channels. - Daemond sighed. - Do you think this will end somewhere good? This engagement is just the beginning, Oto will do anything to free his grandson from any kind of scandal on the eve of the opening of the election period.

-This is all your fault! - Y/n hissed, staring at him and Daemon frowned at her in confusion.

-My fault? How is it my fault that that cunt treats that imbecile like a puppet?

-If you had been a minimally decent father, I would never have met Aemond in the first place! - She spoke in a low and fierce voice, almost biting her lips as she gestured towards her father.

-What else did you want from me? I was there for you until your mother died, and when she died, I took you away with me, until Viserys got involved in something that was none of his business. - Daemon growled, clenching his jaw and curling his lips in disgust, almost spitting the words in her direction.

-I wish you weren't my father! - Y/n shouted almost on tiptoe, as if that helped her voice stand out from her father's. - I wish I didn't have any connection with this stupid family!

-I just wanted my mom back. - Tears of anger and sadness ran down her already swollen face, as she screamed and gestured towards Daemon. - I wish she had never died because she was the only person who truly loved me in this world! Who never abandoned me willingly!

-Don't act like I never came back for you! - Daemon yelped, pushing the dressing table chair hard onto the floor. - As if I didn't give you the choice to leave with me when you had the chance, and you chose to stay for him and now you want to blame me for something that was no longer within my control! - He looked at her with wide eyes. - It was your choice! You chose wrong and that crazy bitch put you in that asylum that is Old Town!

-Don't talk about her that way! - Y/n hissed at the same time when she heard him refer to Alicent in such a low way.

Daemon turned towards the wall with his hands on his head and laughed in pure mockery.

-So you still defend that bitch?

-That bitch took care of me for all those years, while you went on with your life with your new perfect and happy family.- Y/n spat the words at him, her eyes burning with anger. - Nothing will ever change that.

-How nice of her to take care of my daughter after she and her husband stole her custody from me! - He walked around the room in long strides with a cynical smile on his face. - I should be very grateful to her.

-If my uncle asked for custody of Baela or Rhaena, would you hand them over? - Y/n asked in the firmest voice she could muster.

Daemon didn't answer. He just stood there, staring at her without making a sound.

-Would you give them up? - She shouted, taking a step towards him.

-Things are different now…

-That's what I thought. - She interrupted him with a wry laugh, throwing her head back. - Could you at least not pretend that all you felt was relief at getting rid of me and having nothing connecting you to my mother anymore?

-That's not true Y/n! - Her father lost his temper, slamming the table with a loud noise. - I hated that marriage with all my might, I couldn't stand being by your mother's side! But I always loved you!

-That's a lie! - Y/n shouted in fury, walking towards him with hard steps. - Everything in this family is a lie. Everything! Fake friends! Fake marriages! Fake happiness! Fake love! I just wish I didn't have to be part of all of this! I just wanted to be truly happy.

-If you really loved me, you would have fought for me. - She screamed in her father's face, pressing her nails firmly against her palms and closing her eyes. - You wouldn't have left me, you wouldn't have made me go through the greatest pain I've ever felt in my life!

-And what kind of pain would that be? - The oldest mocked, losing control over his own temper. - No longer being able to roll around in the sheets hiding with that cunt?

-Shut your mouth! - She screamed, her hands tangled in her own hair, almost jumping on her father. - Shut up! You know nothing about me! Not even about Aemond, much less what I had to go through!

-Get out of here! - Y/n screamed, opening the door with such force that the doorknob hit the wall hard, tearing off a small splinter. - That's what you do best! I don't need you or your fucking advice! You have two other daughters, take one of them and go play daddy present!

Y/n stared at him with eyes bloodshot with anger, feeling her body shake with fury as she held the door open. And taking a deep breath, Daemon walked towards the hallway.

-We can still fix all this, come to Pentos with us when we get back. Things will be different this time Y/n. - He sighed one last time and without giving a verbal answer Y/n slammed the door hard in his face, walking again towards the bed, still feeling the heat of tears on her cheeks

❦❦❦

Aemond could barely sleep throughout that night. He just stayed clear sitting on Aegon's couch, replaying everything that had happened as if it were a movie. Each time he wished he could take back what he said, but never could he.

And still driven by sadness and fury, he took the car keys and left the apartment without even telling his older brother. Speeding through the streets of Kings Landing with only one destination in mind.

-Mr. Targaryen, you can't just come in like that. - Oto's secretary screeched, looking slightly wide-eyed at Aemond, who just ignored her, muttering a dirty word as he threw open the door to Oto's office.

-How can you do that? - Aemond hissed, slamming the door behind him and striding toward his grandfather's desk. - How can you announce this lie without my consent?

-It was the wisest decision. - Oto gave little or no importance to his grandson's anger, continuing to write something down in a notebook, barely looking him in the eye when speaking.

-It wasn't your decision to make! - Aemond's eyes shone with barely contained fury as his hands trembled close to his body, being pressed so tightly that his nails left half-moon marks on his palms. -You had no right!

-You're still young, Aemond. - The eldest finally put down the fountain pen and looked at his grandson. - When we are young, we often don't know how to steer the boat of our own lives, we don't know how to make the right decisions! And we often get lost.

-We need someone older and wiser to guide us through the stormy ocean that is high-class life. Someone to make the difficult decisions for us. - He rested his hands on the tabletop with a very firm voice. - I made this decision for you, because I will not allow you to throw everything we worked for in the trash for something as insignificant as a foolish and childish love.

-What I feel for her is not a foolish and childish love! - Aemond hissed, also resting his hands on the table and staring at his grandfather, his eyes shining with barely contained anger. - I will deny all of this today!

-If you do that, Alicent will die of shame, Aemond. - Oto spoke firmly, staring at him. - Your mother spent hours on the phone apologizing to Floris for her behavior. To make her be reasonable and stay by your side through all of this.

-What do you want? Shame your mother? Humiliate Floris Baratheon by leaving her like that?

-I didn't ask for any of this! - His hands shook as his teeth pressed together so tightly that they grinded. - It's not my fault, it's yours!

-What did she say to you yesterday? - The eldest faced Aemond firmly, crossing his hands with his arms on the table. - She probably asked you to throw everything away and just crawl around her… the typical egocentrism inherited from her father.

-Y/n is not like her father! - Aemond shouted muffledly, clenching his hands on the table and squinting his eyes tightly. - You don't know her and I won't allow you to talk about her like that!

-I'll go to this ball with Floris, because she doesn't deserve to be involved in all of this! - He hissed in an angry voice. - But after that I'll give it a week and I'll announce that we've rushed into the engagement.

-A week is too little! - Oto shot him a glare. - Do you think waiting just for that will solve anything?

-And what do you plan to do about the rest afterwards? Go out with your cousin and tell everyone that you're involved? - The oldest laughed ironically.

-To ruin your career in business and mine in politics? - Oto stood up on the table, furious, glaring at him. - I forbid you to do that! Do you hear me, Aemond?

-That's your life! - He hissed in a hateful voice. - Learn to deal with it! - As Oto spoke, Aemond had the impression that his grandfather grew in size, making him feel like a 10-year-old boy again. - You were born into this family and you have to act according to what your position demands.

-If I lose her because of you… - He murmured, his gaze lost and full of pain. - I will never forgive you, grandfather.

And without listening to anything else that Oto could say, Aemond turned his back and left the older man's office. The urge to go to Y/n again haunted his thoughts like an insistent ghost, but fear made him restrain himself and return once more to Aegon's apartment.

-You know, it would have been good to let me know that you were leaving early today after all that talk yesterday. - The eldest rolled his eyes and sighed, throwing himself into an armchair with Sunfyre close behind him as soon as Aemond walked through the door.

-I didn't know if you had gone after her again, gone to talk to the septon or thrown yourself off the top of a hill.

-Neither of the three. - Aemond muttered without paying attention to Aegon's provocation and also without saying where he went. - But I need a favor.

-As long as it requires minimal effort, doesn't compromise my physical integrity and doesn't make me late to pick up Jae-Jae from school… - He shrugged, raising his eyebrows and curling his mouth downward.

-I need you to go to my apartment and feed my cat. - Aemond sighed, still unwilling to enter the apartment.

-Cat? - Aegon looked at him confused while Sunfyre tilted her head to the side. - Since when do you have a cat?

-Sunday. - He murmured melancholically, looking at the floor.

❦❦❦

The rest of Y/n's day was nothing but pain. She could barely bear to look at her phone for fear of seeing some news report talking about Floris and Aemond's engagement, but she kept it close to her anyway, waiting for him to call. Until she realized that Aemond didn't even have the number for that cell phone and couldn't call even if he wanted to.

Some time passed and the bedroom phone rang. Y/n almost fell out of bed to answer it, and when she did, her voice was anxious and breathless, her face filled with hope. But all that went away as soon as a female voice apologized for the inconvenience and asked if she would confirm her presence at the family's charity ball that would take place on Friday night.

-No. - She sighed against the phone with her eyes saddened again as she slid the phone back into its cradle.

Everything passed in a strange blur and dark memories of hateful days came to her mind without asking for permission. Night fell and she didn't even notice the darkness that swallowed the city with the curtains so tightly closed as they were. And when she fell asleep, she was still wearing the same yellow dress, tightly clinging to the hotel duvet while tears still ran down her face.

The next morning Y/n was still in the fog of sleep, tormented by dreams that seemed more like nightmares. She woke up with a start when she heard someone knocking on the bedroom door. And holding her breath as she felt her heart skip a beat, she ran to the door.

Being invaded by disappointment as soon as she opened it, when she came across a smiling red-haired girl carrying a cart with a carefully arranged breakfast.

-Thank you, but I didn't ask for this.

-They said in the kitchen to bring the coffee to your room, madam. - The girl looked down and stopped smiling. - I'm just following orders, if you want I can take it back.

-All good. - Y/n forced a smile at the girl. - Don't worry, you can leave it here.

The redhead entered the room with the cart and widened her eyes slightly when she saw how messy the adjacent room was.

-If madam wants, I can ask someone to come and clean up the hall so you can be more comfortable. - She offered, her eyes still a little shocked, and Y/n, who was distracted looking at the newspaper on the cart, didn't even hear the question to which she nodded positively.

-Have a good day, madam. - The girl bowed her head in respect and left the room, leaving her alone, and Y/n didn't even answer, still staring at the headline on the front page of the newspaper.

The engagement of the decade? How the marriage between Targaryen and Baratheon can help in the merger of two of the largest companies in the country.

And right below a black and white photo of Aemond and Floris at what looked like a party.

She didn't touch the food. She just went back to bed and curled up once more, hugging her body tightly as if that could prevent the almost physical pain she felt.

Hours passed and Y/n was still lying in bed clutching the pillow when she heard the door opening and at the same moment she raised her eyebrows and getting up. Her curiosity passed almost instantly when she heard two female voices and realized that it was just the maids cleaning the room adjacent to the room.

With a sigh, Y/n just lay down again, hugging the pillow even tighter, feeling tears in her eyes once again, and seriously thinking about calling Aemond to apologize and beg him to come back. Until the whispers of the chambermaids reached her ears.

-I heard that the dress Floris Baratheon is going to wear is so bright that it would blind the sun if the ball were held during the day. - Y/n heard one of the maids whispering to another as they cleaned the room and her stomach twisted.

-About the damn dress? - The other whispered back. - I heard that the diamond in the ring Aemond Targaryen gave her is so big that they sold a branch of the company in the south to be able to pay for it!

-If that's true, then he must really be in love with her.

Y/n's blood boiled in her veins upon hearing those words, she didn't even hear the rest of the conversation between the two women, feeling as if her heart were beating in her ears and raising her furious eyes from the ground for the first time in the day.

If Aemond thought he could show off with that bitch like she was a trophy and not suffer the consequences he was sorely mistaken. She wouldn't let that happen. She would go to the annual charity ball and give him a taste of what she was feeling.

Still heartbroken, Y/n got up from the bed, wiping her tears hard, she needed a new dress that was good enough… good enough to outshine not just one, but all the stars in the sky. As soon as the door closed and the maids left the room, she reached for her cell phone and dialed a number that she was very familiar with from calling so many times to make requests.

As the phone rang, she opened the curtains of the beautiful window with a panoramic view of Black Water Bay, feeling her eyes burn with fury and the golden sunset sun that was beginning to fall over the city.

-Olena, my dear, how are you? - She smiled forcefully into the phone, using the friendliest voice she could muster with so much anger and sadness in her own heart. - I need a dress for tomorrow night!

❦❦❦

Friday morning flooded Aegon's apartment, illuminating every corner and crevice, except for the large living room, which had its curtains firmly closed since Aemond had sat on the couch two days ago and remained there without moving for practically anything. Just staring at the table, the wall or the ceiling as if they could give him answers and solutions.

When Aegon went downstairs to prepare Jaehaerys's breakfast he sighed and threw his head back at the sight of his brother still looking the same as the night before.

-Okay, that's enough! - He croaked, jumping off the last step and heading towards Aemond. - Look, you've been wearing the same suit for like three days. - Aegon grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

-And that's none of your business. - Aemond muttered without even looking at his brother, making him snort in anger.

-Listen, you didn't eat, you barely slept, and I don't even know if I saw you drinking water. - The oldest enumerated on his fingers, looking at him leaning against the water green wall of the apartment. - If you keep this up, it won't be long before I'm going to be arrested for concealing a corpse.

Aemond just ignored him, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

-Okay, I've lost my patience. - Aegon walked over to the drinks table where his cell phone was. - I'm still the big brother and if I don't eat a sandwich, take a shower and wear clean clothes… I'll call Helaena.

-Fuck you, Aegon. - Aemond closed his eyes firmly with anger.

-I'm serious. I'm going to say that you've been on my couch for three days without showering or moving and she's going to freak out and leave the turtles and her other weirdnesses just to come see you.

Aemond rolled his eyes angrily and let out a hiss of indignation, he hated it when Helaena worried. The last time was enough.

And seeing that his brother was serious, he got up and walked towards the guest room to finally take a shower. When he finally came down the stairs, Jaehaerys was drawing a syrupy smile on his pancake with little blueberry eyes and a strawberry nose. While Aegon poured juice and prepared two sandwiches, he hummed a song and nodded positively at something his son said.

-Uncle Aem! - Came the little boy's excited voice. - I got the best grade in the class in art once again!

-My teacher even told Daddy to put me in a drawing class! - He swung his legs over the counter. - Isn't that right, Daddy?

-Yes, it is, little mouse. - Aegon ruffled his son's hair, smiling and holding out the plate with the sandwich to Aemond.

-That's amazing, Jae, really amazing. - Aemond smiled melancholy as he remembered how excited Y/n had been when she was enrolled in the drawing class years ago. And as he bit into the sandwich, his heart ached and he wondered if Y/n had eaten the food brought to her in the room.

-Are you going to the ball tonight? - Aegon raised his eyebrow as he watched the younger one.

-I have to go. - Just like the last few days, he didn't look his brother in the eyes when he spoke.

-At least try to get some sleep. And not on the couch, lie down in the guest room and get some rest or you'll have a syncope in the middle of the party.

-Daddy, what is sinky? - Jaehaerys tilted his head to the side, his cheeks stained with maple syrup.

-When Uncle Aemond goes days without sleeping and falls flat on the floor like a fool. - Aegon explained, making a funny face as he wiped the laughing little boy's face.

After breakfast, Jaehaerys dragged Aemond by the hand up the stairs and practically forced him to lie down on the bed with soft sheets. Scolding him in a gentle way that reminded him of Helaena, saying that he would not let him have such a "sinky" and that he would take care of him.

And when the little boy left the room with Sunfyre in tow, he closed the door carefully and whispered in a sweet, childish voice.

-Sleep well, Uncle Aem.

He felt his heart tighten at the prospect of forever losing the dreams he had dreamed of his entire life and now perhaps could never have.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking out of Tyrell with several bags hanging from her arms while keeping a serious look on her face to keep from breaking down. The hotel driver was waiting for her in front of the store in a black car, and when she put the bags in the back seat to get in, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

-Cece, dear! - She greeted with forced joy and a sweet smile on her lips.

-Doing last minute shopping for tonight?

-Yeah! I've been so busy the last few days that I haven't had time! - She rolled her eyes, smiling and putting her right hand to her temple.

-Completely normal. - Cece rolled her eyes. - Where are you going to get ready?

-Missy Misaria obviously. - Now it was Y/n who rolled her eyes as if that were obvious.

-What do you think about going to the ball together then? - Cece arched her eyebrows and smiled interestedly. - I'm also going to get ready there, and then my brother will come by with the driver to pick me up. Our parents will arrive early, you know… business.

-Oh, that would be great! - Y/n narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she heard her speak, and a small smile appeared on her lips.

❦❦❦

Hours later Aemond left the room, he hadn't slept well, but at least he had stretched his back and tired body. As soon as he passed in front of his nephew's door he frowned when he heard the singing coming from the bathroom, and opening the door he found Aegon washing Jaehaerys' hair in the bathtub while the boy sang and struggled in the bathtub to make more foam.

-Are you getting ready for the night? - Aemond frowned since it was at most 3:00 pm and the ball only started at 6:00 pm.

-I started early. - Aegon shrugged. - I need to comb Jae's hair and dress him so I can take a shower and get dressed.

-And what are you going to wear? - Aegon looked him up and down, since Aemond was wearing shorts and a shirt borrowed from him.

-I could even lend you one of my suits, but I don't think you'll be well received at a gala ball with your shins out, Mr. Big Guy.

Jaehaerys laughed as he usually did when his father made a joke, even if it wasn't funny.

-Listen, sooner or later you'll have to come home again… - He shrugged, making a mohawk with shampoo in his son's silver hair. - Maybe it'll even help you think about what to do.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to follow his brother's advice, he said goodbye and left his brother's home, heading towards his own apartment.

Aemond could barely look around as he entered. Everything was exactly the way she had left it when she left, the blanket on the sofa, the glasses on the counter, a half-eaten peach on the computer desk.

He ended up letting out a sideways smile when he realized that Vhagar was lying lazily on the couch, completely asleep. And feeling a little relieved, he put more food and water in her bowls, since what Aegon had served was almost gone.

When he entered the room, he saw Lys's unpacked bags lined up on the floor, and with a melancholic smile, he opened the one containing the orange sweatshirt and the white blouse, sighing when he realized that the sweet smell of her skin was still stuck to the fibers of the fabric.

And after gently placing the clothes on the bed, he took a deep breath and then headed towards the shower, trying not to think about her body clinging to his while they both bathed and exchanged passionate kisses.

The shower was longer than he expected, and there in the safety of his own bathroom, completely alone, a few tears ran down his face, mixing with running water falling from the shower.

Shortly after drying himself with the towel still wrapped around his waist, he picked up a small golden key and the clothes on the bed, walking to the living room. Just like he usually did when he was sad, Aemond opened the heavy curtains in the living room and let out a sigh as he looked at the horizon at dusk.

And taking a deep breath, he left the clothes on the shelf and put the key in the lock of the wooden chest, but as soon as he did so, a notification sounded on the cell phone that had been left in his room. Feeling a slight thread of hope, Aemond walked quickly towards the cell phone, but when he got there he only sighed in disappointment when he read what was written.

Find floris at her house! - Grandpa

-Hell. - He muttered, pressing his eyes tightly closed and heading towards the closet to get dressed.

Nothing there seemed to have the same shine without her, he never felt that it actually did, but at that moment it seemed that what was already black and white had become just gray.

He dried his hair and tied it back, leaving the rest loosely falling down his back. And right after putting on his shoes, he heard Aegon's voice calling him by name in the hallway. After Aegon was quiet, Jaehaerys' voice sounded right after, imitating his father, but shouting "Uncle Aemy", making him roll his eyes.

-We are no longer in the age of conquest. - He muttered grumpily as he opened the door. - They already invented the doorbell.

-Are you coming with us? - Aegon chose to ignore him, something that was very common on his part.

-I need to get Floris.

-Oh… I see. Then we'll see you later. - He suddenly nodded seriously.

-Bye uncle Aem. - The little boy waved and Aemond smiled sideways when he saw him wearing a suit as he walked all pompously to the elevator imitating Aegon.

❦❦❦

As soon as Aemond stopped the car in front of the Baratheon mansion, the butler opened the door and Floris came down the small stone staircase in the entrance hall to meet him, wearing a yellow dress and with her hair tied up. The butler ran to the car and opened the door for the girl to get in, and she frowned as she looked at Aemond.

-That's it? Couldn't you have at least bothered to order a limo? Are we going in your car? - She glared at him as Aemond left the mansion grounds.

-I didn't have time to think about it. - Aemond hissed slightly irritated, squeezing the steering wheel with both hands.

-But of course not! You were too busy embarrassing me. - She rolled her eyes in disdain. - Do you think people weren't asking me things all the time? That my friends aren't whispering when they think I'm not listening?

-Your friends are all treacherous snakes who would kick you in the back if they could. - He mocked irritably, speeding up the car.

-And what are you? - She bit back.

-I never promised you anything! - He growled, turning towards her angrily. - You knew from the beginning that I didn't love you, our parents decided this relationship.

-No, but at least your mother assured me that you weren't some creep who went around fucking your own cousin. And now look at this… - Floris widened her eyes at him, tilting her head to the side and then making a face. - You two make me sick!

-So why don't you just end it all? - Aemond growled angrily, glaring at her as he stopped at the traffic light.

-Because you know I need this as much as you do! - She almost screamed in anger, waving her hands. - I'm the second daughter too, my older sister will probably be the future CEO of Baratheon Industries, but if I married you my father wouldn't think twice before leaving me as the main heir.

-Your mother called me and assured me that it was all a misunderstanding, that it wasn't what it seemed.- Floris made a childish voice and pouted while imitating Alicent. - She thinks I'm some kind of idiot and that I don't see what's happening in front of me!

-I can't marry you! - Aemond said abruptly, stepping on the brakes, making the car behind him honk loudly.

-What? - Floris hissed, her eyes flashing. - Listen here, the engagement has already been announced, your mother and grandfather assured us that we'll get married and solve all this. So I think you better calm down and go back to the real world where we live and no septon in the world is going to marry you off to that lunatic cousin of yours!

-Don't you dare say anything against her! - Aemond growled, his voice dripping with anger, and he pressed his eyes tightly together.

-Then I talk about you! No one will ever accept this in high society, and if you bring this madness to light… you'll be burying yourself and your career. - She rolled her eyes as if Aemond was an imbecile, and he didn't say anything in return, just driving faster than the streets of Kings Landing allowed.

-At least pretend to be happy tonight. - She practically growled, opening the door for herself as Aemond handed the keys to the event valet minutes later.

❦❦❦

The hall was decorated with everything that was finest that night, and the many guests who arrived looked at everything in amazement, each year the Targaryen ball was more beautiful than the year before.

And even with so much beauty Aemond didn't care, even when they walked the red carpet moments ago and the camera flashes almost blinded him at the entrance of the event all he could think about was Y/n, what she was doing at that moment and how he would beg her forgiveness on his knees at that moment if he could.

Floris' golden dress shone even more with the camera flashes and she smiled robotically as she posed correctly for the photographers, making sure to leave the farce that was that ridiculously large ring in evidence.

The two went down the stairs, crossing the hall side by side with rigid postures while Floris forced joy and greeted back everyone who congratulated her on her engagement, while Aemond just nodded and thanked him in a taciturn way.

-Can you at least pretend a little better? - Floris hissed just for him to hear without taking the smile off her face and Aemond had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

-That's my best. - He spoke almost monotonously while staring at a fixed point on the wall with an almost lost look, making Floris snort and with a fake smile pat his shoulder right after walking towards the younger sisters.

The anger for being at that ball and not by Y/n's side corroded his veins and without thinking much after Floris walked away he just approached the bar still with that lost and unfocused look and took the first drink he saw the boy behind the counter preparing for the Gods know who.

-Little brother, I don't know if you noticed, but this isn't water. - Aegon raised his eyebrows, moving closer when he saw Aemond drink the second glass.

-Mmmm. - He deliberately ignored what the older man said, going in another direction.

-Aemond considering the fact that you have the alcohol tolerance of a squirrel I think it's better to stop. - The eldest took the glass from his brother's hand and exchanged it for the glass of champagne he was carrying with him, drinking Aemond's drink in one go and making a face when he almost choked.

-What the fuck are you drinking?

-I don't know. - Aemond rolled his eyes, more grumpy than usual, his voice stopping at a growl. - I just took it from the bar.

Suddenly a strange commotion began outside the hall where the photographers from the magazines and newspapers were positioned looking for the best angle, leaving some of the more attentive guests looking in the direction of the main door.

It was then that moments later a strange silence briefly took over the hall, only the soft music playing in the background, until low murmurs began again and louder conversations returned soon after.

And when Aemond looked towards the door he saw her entering the hall in a long blood red dress that still left a lot of skin on display, as it had a huge side slit on the leg and thin straps that led to a reasonably deep neckline. Her skin seemed to glow under the lights of the hall and Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he admired her.

Her beautiful silky hair was tied in an elaborate hairstyle and her neck adorned with a necklace with hundreds of diamonds, and the realization that she was not wearing her beautiful sapphire made Aemond's heart ache. Still, she was certainly the most beautiful of all those present, and that was the only certainty he had that night as soon as he laid eyes on her.

-Take a picture, it will last longer. - Aegon had a mocking look on his face as he took the glass of champagne from his brother's hand and downed it in one go.

The sparkle in Aemond's eyes disappeared almost instantly the next moment, because behind Y/n entered Jason Lanister and with a smile crossed his arm around her waist, guiding her through the hall through the people.

At that moment Aegon was sure, if he hadn't taken the glass from Aemond's hand he would have broken the stem with the amount of force he was squeezing his own hands.

❦❦❦

-What in the name of the seven hells is she doing here? - Oto growled angrily at Alicent as the two watched Y/n descend the stairs next to Jason. - Didn't you say she didn't confirm her presence?

-And she didn't! - Alicent scolded with wide eyes. - I checked the list twice.

-I should have suspected she would do something like that! - Oto muttered angrily, almost pulling out his own hair as he ran his eyes around the room, observing each person's reaction to Y/n's arrival.

And to make the man's mood even worse, Daemon appeared at the top of the stairs accompanied by Laena and his pre-teen daughters.

-The gods should have forbidden this damn man from reproducing. - Oto swore furiously heading towards Aemond and Aegon with Alicent at his heels.

Having difficulty moving through the hall without being stopped to talk to almost every guest who greeted him, when Oto and Alicent finally reached their final destination, Aemond and Aegon were no longer alone. Viserys, Daemon and his family were with them.

Jaehaerys was now at Aegon's side, looking curiously at the unknown people he had already realized were family.

-Oto, it's been a while. – Daemond smiled mischievously. - I hope you've resolved your problems with the party officials.

Oto hated Daemond with all his might, and not content with messing up Oto's life personally, he had to leave an heiress in his place when he finally left.

-And I hope you've learned to behave better in the face of fatherhood.

Before Daemon could answer, Rhaenys and Corlys joined him, all smiles at seeing their daughter and granddaughters.

-Oh, Laenor can't come, he's been working too much lately, you know? - Rhaenys rolled her eyes affectionately as she spoke of her eldest son.

Viserys was all smiles as he talked to his cousin and brother, and Aemond barely heard what was being said, just looking in Y/n's direction, not missing a single movement she made. Until a soft voice called him and he looked away.

-Little brother, is everything okay? - Helaena looked at him worriedly with Daeron by her side, and Aemond forced a smile and ended up nodding to the older sister.

Helaena was beautiful in her own way, wearing a light blue dress full of details that looked like scales. Her hair was a little tied up and a little loose, full of hairpins that looked like small sparkling leaves or shiny beetles.

-It's okay Hel, don't worry about me. - He muttered, looking again at where Y/n was, but she had disappeared.

Aemond looked around, feeling his stomach churn momentarily, and when he finally turned back, he saw her approaching with Jason by her side and a sweet smile on her face.

-Y/n, dear! - Viserys hugged her. - I thought you weren't going to come, how good the joy of your presence gave us.

-Jason was kind enough to offer to accompany me, uncle. - Y/n lightly laid her head on Jason's shoulder and Aemond felt his palms tingle.

And as if nothing else was needed, Rhaenyra came all smiles towards them all, accompanied by her husband and her insufferable children.

-Uncle, I heard you're engaged, I never imagined this day would come. - Luke mocked, making Jace laugh. And even though she was mad at Aemond, Y/n wanted to slap that little idiot on the head for talking to him like that.

Normally Aemond would be angry, but he didn't even process Luke's words, too concerned with where Jason's hands were on Y/n's waist.

-Oh, how good it is to see our family all together after so long. - Viserys's eyes shone with a smile, seeming oblivious to all the tension in the hall.

-I want a picture! - He smiled even more, waving to one of the photographers and guiding Alicent closer to him. - A family picture!

And still with tense looks, everyone gathered in front of the photographer, Viserys in the center with Alicent on his left and Rhaenyra on the right. Harwin hovered beside Rhaenyra like a shadow three times her size, his hand resting on her shoulder protectively as Jace, Luke, and Joff stood in front of their father together.

Daemon stood next to his favorite niece and her husband, standing next to Harwin with Laena at his side and their two daughters in front of them. And to stay close to his youngest daughter and granddaughters, Corlys stopped beside Laena, gently pulling Rhaenys to stand in front of him.

Behind Alicent, Oto hovered with one hand on his daughter's shoulder and a serious look on his face. Beside Alicent was Helaena, smiling happily as she adjusted her golden flower tiara. Beside her, Daeron smiled discreetly, smoothing his hair with the palms of his hands and whispering something softly to his older sister.

Aegon stood behind Helaena with Jaehaerys in his arms. The boy looked curiously at his aunt and just by looking into his eyes, you could see that he was considering the idea of ​​taking one of the shiny hairpins from Helaena's head, but his father was too busy keeping his eyes on his younger brother to notice.

Aemond stood beside Aegon, looking deadly serious as he clenched his jaw so hard that the older man thought he could hear it creaking. His gaze was clearly directed at Y/n, who was staring back at him in the same way.

Whenever Viserys asked for photos like this at charity balls or even at simpler events, Y/n would run to Aemond's side with a smile on her lips, and they were so close that there was barely room for an atom, but that night she looked away and walked towards her father, stepmother and younger sisters, receiving a sweet smile from Laena and a discreet curve of lips to her father. Daemon placed his hand gently on Y/n's shoulder and she stood before him with Baela and Rhaena on her left side.

The eyes of everyone at the ball were turned in that direction, and even a layman could notice the glares exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, while Alicent and Oto looked worriedly at both of them.

The flashes went off blinding them all, and as soon as the photos were taken everyone separated at the same moment.

-Don't worry Oto, I've been overcoming the challenges of parenthood every day, but I assure you that at least I don't intend to pimp my daughters for social positions. - Daemon whispered only for Oto to hear before moving away.

-You insolent man! - Oto hissed furiously as Daemon walked away.

-Helaena! - Y/n's excited voice rang out as she gently hugged her cousin. - I missed you so much.

-Ah Y/n, I felt you too! - The eldest gently tilted her head as she spoke. - Do you know that I work at the beach now? - She rambled excitedly. - Those little turtles I told you about once are finally being protected.

-That's great Hel, I'm so happy. - Y/n hugged her once again and Helaena smiled, reciprocating softly as was her custom.

Until Jason said something in a low voice to Y/n and guided her in another direction. At the same time Aemond went after the two, feeling his head exploding with anger and frustration when he saw that filthy man touch her waist. But before he could reach them, Aegon stepped in front of him, stopping him discreetly.

-Aemond, what are you doing? - He gave a fake smile to those watching from outside and took a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing by.

-I'll do it the old way. I'll cut off his hands and then make him swallow them. - He hissed with so much anger and seriousness that Aegon swallowed hard, not knowing if his brother was serious or not.

-Alright, take it easy, knight of the realm. - Aegon frowned. - Public dismemberments were banned about 500 years ago.

And before Aemond could say anything else, Floris appeared in the middle of the crowd, burning him with her look of fury that was visible even with her hiding it behind a smile.

-Mrs. Stark loved my ring and found it in extremely good taste. - She said in a falsely gentle voice. - She wishes to greet us.

And crossing her arm through Aemond's in a firm grip, she practically dragged him towards the Stark table. The two once again received a shower of congratulations and greetings for the engagement, which made Aemond's stomach churn as his eyes frantically searched for Y/n among the people, never losing sight of her for more than a minute with her being easy to identify in the red dress.

Until the inevitable happened and the two couples met in the hall, staring at each other vehemently.

-Floris, my dear, it's been so long since I've seen you. - Y/n smiled cynically.

-Really a long time, Y/n. - She looked at her up and down bitterly. - I didn't think you would come back so soon, I heard that you were going to become a septa.

Y/n frowned and almost choked upon hearing that, but she recovered almost instantly.

-Who made you think such a thing?

-Your aunt? - Floris arched her eyebrow.

-Although she doesn't look like it, Aunt Alicent has a very good sense of humor. - Y/n forced a smile as she gave Aemond a prickly look, who barely noticed the conversation, too busy glaring at Jason.

-It's a beautiful dress, but from what I can see, it's not a famous signature. - Floris teased Y/n with a look of superiority as she pointed out her dress.

-Oh no, my dear, it's from Tyrell, the new collection hasn't even been released yet. - Y/n smiled provocatively, pouting slightly. - I'm a personal friend of Olena Tyrell, she insisted that I choose a more recent one.

-Yours, on the other hand… Yves Saint Martel, isn't it? Two years ago… - Y/n sighed cynically, her hands on her hips, smiling internally when she saw the angry look on Floris' face, so Olena was right about the dress. - I would have chosen something better for such an important occasion.

-Come on, Jason, I want to talk to Cece. - She pulled him away, leaving without giving Floris a chance to respond.

❦❦❦

-Floris is stunning. - Pia murmured to Jane, enchantedly observing the dress with a golden fabric that shone as if hundreds of tiny diamonds were sewn through the fabric.

-Yeah, it's a shame her fiancé is more busy mentally murdering Jai Lanister than asking her to dance. - Elyrio rolled his eyes, carefully observing the movements around the room.

-Just look at their skin. - Lion arched his eyebrow. - I knew she would be as tanned as him, in person she looks even more sunburned than in the photo in that magazine.

-I think that if he could kill Jai, he would have already killed him. - Jane whispered, observing Aemond discreetly and feeling a little uncomfortable with the strength of the anger that emanated from his gaze.

-He's having an affair with his cousin and Floris probably knows about it. - Pia murmured slightly astonished, as if even after all the previous assumptions this was a shock.

-They both announced their engagement. - Nia spoke without even a drop of the certainty that was in her voice a few days ago when talking to her friends.

-That doesn't stop him from cheating on her. - Elyrio shrugged, taking a sip of champagne as if that was totally obvious.

-Did you see Flo's face at the opening of your sister Nia's restaurant? - Jane arched her eyebrow a little tensely as she remembered. - I asked her about Aemond and I thought she was going to strike me down alive.

-Did your sister tell you if Floris told her anything? - Lion looked at her, bursting with curiosity.

-No, she didn't tell me anything, but I think Floris just didn't tell her. My sister wouldn't be able to hide something that big from me. - Nia still seemed shocked by the situation as she watched the glances exchanged between Aemond and Y/n, who were walking with their respective partners through the hall, but didn't even seem to know they were there.

-Even better, did you see the photo of Y/n leaving his building shortly after the engagement announcement? - Elyrio brought the subject back to Y/n and the photo that had been almost more talked about than the engagement. - He seemed to be out of his mind! Disheveled and crying in public, I've never seen her do that, not even when we were kids at school!

-From what I've heard, the rumor circulating among the hotel staff is that she disappeared after she arrived in the city and came back on the day of the engagement announcement, locked herself in the room and never came out again. - Jane muttered

-I heard that Aemond went there! - Lion shrugged. - But I don't know if it's really true. The driver was telling our cook that he heard it somewhere, so I'm not sure.

And the trained eyes followed Aemond as he moved away from Floris and headed once more towards the bar, followed closely by Aegon.

-Wait a second, was Aegon dancing with Cece's aunt? - Elyrio whispered with wide eyes, starting a new gossip in the group.

❦❦❦

-I hope your bloodlust has reduced after that walk. - Aegon put his arm over Aemond's shoulder, and the youngest removed it in the next instant.

-Mmmm. - Aemond almost growled, drinking another glass of champagne in one go, making Aegon scratch his head apprehensively.

The minutes passed and Aegon watched Aemond while Aemond watched Jason and Y/n. And when the urge to go to the bathroom became too much to bear, Aegon waved to Daeron discreetly and the younger crossed the dance floor towards them.

Aegon just gave him a look and Daeron nodded, standing next to Aemond while the older brother went to the bathroom.

-Hey big bro, I think it's best not to drink anymore. - Daeron smiled very kindly, advising Aemond who just rolled his eyes and took another sip from the glass.

But then moments later he saw Y/n walking alone towards the bathroom, and without thinking twice he put the glass on the counter and went towards her.

-Where are you going? - Daeron said trying to be casual and failing miserably, making Aemond roll his eyes deeply.

-To the bathroom. - The oldest continued walking but stopped abruptly and without turning around he growled. - Daeron, I swear that if you follow me into the bathroom I will kill you, and then Aegon.

The younger brother just swallowed hard and let him go while watching from afar with wide eyes as he took a sip of champagne to disguise himself, almost choking as he drank from Aemond's glass realizing that what was there was clearly not champagne.

❦❦❦

Y/n was walking towards the bathroom when she felt a strong hand pulling her into the dark hallway next door, and she almost screamed but as soon as she felt the touch on her skin she knew almost instantly that it was Aemond pulling her.

-What do you think you're doing? - Aemond growled at her as soon as they arrived in the corner.

-I just came to the ball, It's not a big deal. - She laughed carelessly as she spoke venomously.

-With Jason Lanister? - He hissed softly, getting even closer to her and Y/n could smell a slight smell of alcohol on his breath.

-Did you drink whiskey? - She whispered with concern, bringing her palm to his face, momentarily forgetting her anger.

-That's not the point. - He muttered, still enraged. - He's always been following you around like a stupid dog! Get away from him right now!

Y/n's anger resurfaced redoubled with those words.

-Who I hang out with is none of your business anymore. - She hissed angrily, pulling her hands out of his reach. - And don't you dare touch me again!

-Jason has been very kind to me tonight. - She mocked, her smoldering eyes hidden behind a sweet smile. - A true gentleman. Maybe I'll give him a kiss at the end of the party as a reward!

-You won't let that fucking bastard touch you! - Aemond shouted muffledly so that only the two of them heard

-Oh really? And who's going to stop me? You? - Y/n sneered, throwing her neck back. - I think you're too busy receiving your engagement congratulations for that! - She growled and left him alone and furious in the dark side hallway.

That was the problem with Y/n and Aemond knew it, she was too sweet for her own good. But even the gentle beast can bite when it feels threatened

❦❦❦

When Aemond returned, Aegon and Daeron were arguing lightly and the older man sighed in relief when he saw him.

-Thanks to the gods.

Aemond couldn't even express his anger, he just rolled his eyes and ignored the two of them, feeling that the only thing that would make him happy that night was to strangle Jason Lanister. And to make things even worse, he felt an unwanted touch on his right shoulder.

-Darling. - Floris called him in a sweet voice that didn't match the angry look in her eyes at all. - Your mother asked us to take more pictures.

She pulled him by the hand away from his brothers, leading him towards one of the ball photographers. Amidst the smiles for the pictures, Floris subtly touched his chest between his shirt and jacket, caressing it affectionately and after the last picture was taken the girl smiled and left a soft kiss on Aemond's chin. Making his stomach turn, not with pleasure or joy like when Y/n did it, but with pure repulsion.

And while Floris pretended very well, walking and smiling among the people, he just went back to the same corner with a vacant look, barely noticing that Daeron had disappeared and only Aegon was there watching him.

-Listen… - The older man sighed, staring at him. - This whole shit show is going to be over soon and then we can just go home and be quiet…

-Daddy… Daddy… - Jaehaerys arrived, pulling on the hem of Aegon's jacket. - I need to go to the bathroom!

-Just a second, little mouse… - Aegon looked around, looking for Daeron in the crowd, but couldn't find him.

-I know what you're doing and I don't need a babysitter. - Aemond practically growled, still looking in the direction of Y/n and Jason Lanister.

-Stop staring. - Aegon hissed, pulling the youngest to the corner. - It's already getting bizarre, people are noticing. -Mmmm. - He rolled his eyes, taking another glass of champagne.

-Daddy! - Jaehaerys called once again with a demanding voice and jumping with his eyes closed.

-Daddy's going, just a second, little mouse, I swear… - He smiled at the little one as he spoke softly, then turned to Aemond.

-I'll be back in five minutes. Try not to burn a hole in Lanister's forehead just with your withering glare in the meantime. - Aegon whispered hurriedly, then hoisted Jaehaerys by the armpits and picked him up in his arms, heading towards the bathroom.

-Idiot. - Aemond rolled his eyes in a bad mood as he watched his brother disappear into the hallway.

Aemond's blood was almost boiling in his veins. He watched Jason from afar with his body pressed against Y/n's while he murmured things to her, as if he had any kind of intimacy with her. Hatred made his stomach boil, and he gripped the stem of the champagne glass so tightly that it could very well break.

❦❦❦

Y/n's eyes were burning, she couldn't tell if it was from anger or jealousy, the only thing she knew was that seeing Aemond next to Floris Baratheon all handsome and hot while they took all those pictures of them made her want to jump on Floris and pull out every single strand of her hair.

The moment Floris Baratheon touched his chest and then kissed him on the chin in public just like she always did in secret, Y/n felt like an arrow of pure hatred had pierced her heart, and she had to hold herself back from crying in public.

But that's when her mind lit up and Y/n got even angrier, that wasn't Floris' fault. This was Aemond's fault. And if he thought things could be like that, she would give him a taste of his own medicine. At that very moment she swallowed all her anger and put on a mask of smiles and satisfaction for everyone around her.

And minutes later, when Jason Lanister asked her to dance again, unlike the other times, Y/n broke into a sweet smile and accepted the request. As she walked to the dance floor, she had to contain her victorious smile when she felt Aemond's gaze burning against her back. Y/n only forgot one thing, Aemond was not very good at being subtle when he was angry.

Jason was dancing very close to Y/n, certainly much closer than the music playing at the moment required. And she smiled and feigned satisfaction as she moved with him across the dance floor, when Jason spun them around and she could see Aemond and momentarily Y/n's heart raced. The look of murderous jealousy on his face almost made her moan in satisfaction.

And suddenly Jason spun her around again and she lost sight of him amidst the other people in the room. Jason got even closer and discomfort and repulsion took over Y/n when he firmly squeezed her ass, that was only good when Aemond did it.

But she didn't need to think about it twice, because she had barely finished thinking about what Jason had just done and Aemond had already pulled him off her by the arm with his face contorted in fury and punched him in the face making horrified screams ring out throughout the Ball.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries

Final notes:

Aegon blinked for a second and Aemond is finally going to attempt his murder! I hope you enjoyed it!! 💕💕

Next Chapter

[abiiors]

persephone - matty x reader ˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿

a/n: this is kinda loosely based on the myth of persephone and also this is just one interpretation of it, obv several exists in the media :) and like matty's barely hades lmao, this is mostly just the connection of persephone, demeter and spring ♡ cw: this contains themes of parental neglect, dysfunctional families, emotional abuse/neglect and alcoholism, and they're very much PRESENT and DETAILED. this isn't angst but it's def bittersweet (emphasis on the bitter whoops) wc: 5.1k

the first word she learns is “mama”. 

she has a faint memory of this—a woman with shining brown hair, smiling and cheering at her. everything is blurred around the edges and filtered in through a haze. everything has a foggy white quality to it but the woman’s eyes are crystal clear and looking at her, focused solely on her. she has a memory of others laughing and clapping along, encouraging her to say the word again and again. 

mama.

the brown haired woman looks tired—she’s young and, looking back, barely even an adult. but the woman smiles at her and coos along. “mama,” the woman says in an exaggerated baby voice and points to herself. 

“mama,” she babbles again at the woman she now recognises as her mother. the woman gives her a bland smile, playing with her almost absently. the woman even lets her grab onto her fingers and bite on them—not that it counts much as biting, she barely has teeth at this point. 

the next memory she has is of an older man with a freckled happy face and salt-n-pepper hair. he throws her up in the air and catches her until she’s giggling and breathless and light as air. he's often at their dining table, peeling pomegranates.

mama says she can't eat them yet—they're of course a choking hazard for a baby her age. but the old man peals it for mama, because mama looks happy when she sits next to him and pops the seeds into her mouth, sighing at the sweetness.

“these are delicious, daddy,” mama says to him and he smiles at mama with all the tenderness in the world.

when mama needs a break from her, he takes her to the nearby pond, and lets her touch leaves and rocks. he points at the tiny things in the water and says a word she barely recognises. 

fishies.

he clicks his tongue and waits for her to imitate the word, but she only claps her hands and says “mama” again. 

the man laughs. “let’s get you home to mama then.”

the younger woman gets mad at him when they get home though. mama grabs all the treasure—their entire day’s hard work—and puts it away somewhere where she can never reach it again. 

the man grumbles about it too but she’s far too young yet to understand words and tone, much less full blown fights. all she knows is a distinct sharp feeling of fear when mama snatches her away from the old man’s hands and puts her away in a room alone. 

there are white bars around her that she can’t climb, even though she cries and cries and screams for mama. even when a pungent smell fills the room and she feels uncomfortable wetness in her onesie. 

but mama doesn’t come. and the old man’s voice can’t reach her anymore. there’s only the sound of her cries and an eerie music box lullaby that plays on repeat as if it would ever be enough to pacify her.

mama doesn’t come for hours. 

years later, she’d know why mama can’t be bothered. 

the last time she calls her mother “mama” is when she’s seven years old. 

it’s rained all night and the backyard is wet and muddy. mama grimaces the moment she looks out the window but for a seven year old girl, it’s the most fun thing to ever exist. mama makes a sound of disgust when she runs outside, whooping with joy and slipping and sliding in the mud. 

all she wishes for is a companion now—a sibling or a dog or a cat, she’s not picky. a friend works too, but she’s not entirely sure where someone gets those. 

“if you get mud on my carpets, i swear!” mama shakes her fist from the back door but she can’t care less.  

she’s drenched in mud and having way more fun than she’s had in days. so much so that she doesn’t even realise when mama shakes her head and goes back inside. 

the winter chill is almost gone, there’s even a few little saplings sprouting from the ground and she can’t wait for the whole backyard to be filled with weird little weeds and wallflowers. she can’t wait until it’s warm enough to sit outside in the afternoons and make her little witchy potions from mud and weeds and flowers and see if any butterflies would be curious enough to land near her. (or maybe even on her like they do in the movies she’s seen!) 

she forgets the movies for a moment, though. today is the best day a girl could have. 

her grampy—her grandpa—is supposed to visit too, and she knows he’s going to bring treats; sweet honey from the hive on their farm or tiny red strawberries that dribble juice down her chin. she knows he’ll sit in their kitchen and peel her a pomegranate (she can eat those now!) and tell her about the new calf on the farm. (she’s asked this story twice now but it only gets better each time) it’s all so exciting that she even forgets about her aversion to the kitchen for a bit, forgets how a pit opens in her stomach every time she has to be in the kitchen with mama. 

she can’t wait for the after, but right now she runs through her backyard again, whooping and cheering and smiling. 

she’s slipping and slipping, just like before. the fence comes closer, her little mind tries to calculate the distance, her feet try to slow down but the mud’s grown too slippery and she just can’t stop, can’t put her arms up in time. 

her jaw collides with the fence with a sickening crunch. pain flares in her mouth along with the sharp coppery taste of blood. it almost makes her gag and she tries to spit it out. something white falls on the ground, covered in blood—her first tooth, the one that’s been loosening for days. 

she stays curled on the ground, covered in mud, sobbing and spitting out more blood until her saliva runs clear, then she somehow shuffles inside, hoping mama would have a magic fix. 

mama’s eyes widen the moment she walks in, dried mud crusted around her feet, blood on her chin.

“what the fuck?!” mama yells, the glass in her hand jostles dangerously and the dark liquid inside almost splashes out. mama’s words also have an unnerving, slurred quality to them but she’s too much in pain to care. 

“what’s wrong with you?!” mama screeches again and gets up. through tears, she manages to splutter out what happened. she shows mama the tooth, (girls in school have told her about the tooth fairy) but mama only smacks her hand away. 

“i told you not to get mud on my carpets. who’s going to clean them huh? not you, you’re useless. you’re all useless.”

more tears fall on her cheeks and she looks at mama, horrified. but mama slams the glass hard enough on the table that a crack goes through it. she’s worried mama’s going to yell at her more, but mama only yanks the mop from the corner and waits for her to move out the way. 

she takes the hint, grateful it didn’t get worse. she tries not to get the mud onto anything else but a little gets on the bathroom tiles anyway. 

under the hot water, she finally lets her sobs free and scrubs her little body until the skin is all red and raw and stings from the temperature of the water. until each stream of the showerhead feels like a bb bullet. 

then she gets on her hands and knees and scrubs the bathroom floor clean, occasionally flicking her tongue over the now-empty spot where the tooth used to be. it tastes vaguely salty, and it still aches but not as much, definitely nothing in comparison to her jaw which is turning a nasty shade of purple. her tooth’s still safe on the counter, though—free of blood and mud now. gleaming white. 

at least that’s the saving grace of the day. at least she’ll get a visit from the tooth fairy. 

grampy cancels his visit—his knees hurt, mama says—but she tries not to be miffed about it. she’ll make sure to get grampy something nice with the money from the tooth fairy. 

that night she gingerly places the tooth on the bed, carefully places the pillow on top so that the tooth is protected from all sides. nice and snug. 

then she closes her eyes, dreaming of tiny fluttering wings and shiny pennies. but the tooth fairy never visits at all. 

her mum ages rapidly in a decade. by the time she’s seventeen, her mum’s already gone grey—unravelling at the seams, fraying with each passing day. not that anyone’s seen her mum in days. or months even. her mum’s not coherent enough to hang out with people most of the time. 

she’s started spending less and less time at home. it helps to have a part time job on top of school—a place that delivers chinese food. a couple guys from her school work there too, not that she really knows a lot of them. except one. 

matty. 

he’s the one person she’s ever considered a friend. 

the one person who’s been worthy of that title. 

matty’s all casual smiles and laughs—he flirts shamelessly and kisses people on the cheeks when he gets drunk. he offers her fags and spliffs even though she always denies them. he nicks leftover chinese so they can eat it in his car, giggling and laughing, way prouder of their heist than they should be. 

the food tastes better when she’s with him. everything’s better when she’s with him—even the shitty, off-brand beer he keeps buying. with him it tastes like expensive champagne. not that she knows what champagne tastes like to begin with, but she imagines the bubbles settling on her tongue feel like his laugh spilling from his lips. she imagines it tastes like the sparkle in his eyes.

matty looks at her differently too—she’s not stupid, she knows what interest looks like. 

she’s been the object of fascination since she turned thirteen and developed boobs seemingly overnight. she shies away from attention most of the time—wears t-shirts twice her size, keeps her hair a bland brown. she barely even looks at boys or men who tell her she looks mature for her age. but when matty looks at her, it’s different. 

when matty looks at her, she wants to be seen. 

“you sure it’s okay for us to be out so late?” he asks one night when they’re sat in his car. the world around them has already gone quiet—it is a school night after all, she should be in bed too. but she sees the cigarette dangling loosely between his lips and for a second she forgets to respond. matty quirks and eyebrow and she realises she’s been staring at his mouth. 

“my mum won’t mind.” her response is a bit curt, but she leaves it at that. there’s no need to mention that her mum’s probably drowning in wine by now, tripping and spilling the liquid onto floors and sofas and carpet. 

“she must be chill,” matty hums to himself and takes a drag of his cigarette. she watches him hold it into his lungs, some of it escapes through his nose and curls around his face. 

she keeps quiet, unwilling to get into that topic of conversation. 

“i’m thinking of dropping out,” matty says quietly once the cigarette turns into a tiny stub. his voice is carefully neutral, monotonous. she whirls to look at him, jaw practically dropping to the (dirty) floor of his car. matty stares straight ahead, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but the tension in his shoulders gives him away. 

images flash in front of her—walking the school corridors alone, eating lunch alone, doing her homework alone. working at her job alone. 

alone, alone, alone. no one but her mum around her again. that wretched fucking woman occupying every atom of her existence.

“did you h—”

“i heard you.” her voice has gone quiet now but there’s an edge to it that doesn’t go unnoticed by matty. 

“and?”

“and what? if i said no, would that convince you to stay?”

she doesn’t mean to sound so sharp, so bitter. certainly not so selfish. but an ugly feeling bubbles up so deep inside her that all the excitement from before just dies—all the butterflies from just a moment ago, now dead and rotten, making her feel nauseous. 

“no but—”

“i don’t want to tell you why it’s irresponsible, matty. frankly, i don’t know if i believe that myself but… it’s… it’s big.”

his face falls further and further the more she speaks. with each word she wants to press a hand to her mouth, wrap it around her throat so it would strangle everything else that’s about to come out. with every word she wants him to tell her to just shut the fuck up, that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. but matty only looks at her and a different sort of quiet spreads around the car. 

“you think this… this thing you’ve got going on. music. you think that’s enough?! you play for fucking retirement homes, matty! you play for old people who probably won’t even remember what they heard twenty minutes later. and you want to–what? you want to leave your education incomplete? you want to leave a-levels and school and your job? you just want to…leave?”

which is the real problem. 

he gets the luxury of leaving. 

she gets the misery of staying. 

“thanks,” he says dryly, trying to roll his eyes. she catches the extra shine they now have, she catches the way his throat bobs. and suddenly the car is so stifling she can’t stand it anymore—can’t stand the taste of the nasty, cheap beer and the too-salty, too-greasy chinese they’re eating and she can’t stand the cliche, indie rock music playing at low volume. 

she can’t stand him anymore. 

“i need to go,” she says curtly, wiping her hands on her jeans and already halfway out the door when matty grabs her wrist. 

“wait—”

“what.”

“n-nothing.” it’s the first time she’s heard him stutter, first time he’s ever said something without sounding completely sure of himself. “let me just drop you home.”

it’s also the first time he’s offered to do that. 

“i have my bike.” besides there’s no need for you to see the state of the house right now, no need to come across that belligerent woman in case she’s still conscious. 

“it’s late.”

she can’t really argue with that logic. it is almost 11 at night and she might not live in a very shady neighbourhood but it’s still not the safest at this time of the night. still, she doesn’t want matty driving her around and dropping her home. that feels too vulnerable. besides, she just wants to be away from him.

he’s leaving anyway, she might as well start practising that from now on. 

“i’ll text you when you get home,” she mumbles and forces her wrist out of his hand. 

she’s out of the car and slamming the door shut before he can even protest. she’s marching across the empty road and to her bike before the absence of his warmth registers, before her body realises that she can no longer feel his skin against hers. 

before she really has a chance to let anything sink in. 

matty honks and she hisses. 

“what!”

“i’m following you home.” and then the little shit rolls up the window. 

she has half a mind to stubbornly wait him out, see how long he stays if she just refused to move but that’s a stupid plan. like it or not, it’s happening. he’s following her home. 

like it or not, she’s going to have to let him. 

“i’ll only accept your apology on one condition.”

it’s two days later that they’re back in his car—her with a guilty conscience, matty with a smug smile. 

“ugh, if you’re about to be a boy about it!”

“you haven’t even heard me out yet!”

the pit in her stomach shifts, the hollow cavity catching in her throat until she has to forcefully clear her throat and blink rapidly. it’s not that she’s completely forgiven him for wanting to leave, she hasn’t completely given up on that yet either. but she realises the way she went about it was perhaps…a bit shitty (okay it was definitely a lot shitty) 

“spring dance”

“what?!”

the words jerk her out of her thoughts so violently that she almost forget about everything else for a second. the spring fucking dance. 

matty healy, the boy who nicks chinese food and drinks cheap beer and wears ripped, skinny jeans wants to go to the spring dance. 

“right don’t look at me like i’ve asked you out to a strip club—”

“that’d be more in character—”

“oi! just… let me speak!”

and so she shuts up, puts her hands under her thighs so she won’t impulsively chew on her nails while her crush is…trying to ask her out. 

matty rolls his eyes at her and the fond smile on his face takes her breath away. 

“i want to do it. i want one last cheesy school experience before i…” he trails off, maybe not wanting to finish that sentence for her sake. or maybe because it affects him more than she thinks. “and i want to do it with you.”

“me? ooh like i’m special or something.” she tries for it to be teasing and playful, but the words come out sounding so hopeful that it knocks the breath out of her. 

“don’t pretend,” matty’s voice goes all quiet then. serious too, and suddenly he can’t meet her eyes. “don’t pretend like you don’t see it.”

“see what…”

there’s a lot in her life that she pretends not to see—half the things at home, sometimes her failing marks, sometimes the way other people look at her and whisper. but he is the one person she can’t pretend with. can’t pretend to not see the way he looks at her and acts around her. can’t pretend to not notice the way his touches linger and his smiles last longer. 

even now, she can’t pretend like he’s not looking right at her lips, leaning in a smidge at a time. wishing she’d close the gap. 

involuntarily, her eyes flutter shut. anticipating. 

she wants to feel it so fucking bad—his hands on her waist, his fingers on her skin. she wants to feel his faint stubble against the palm of her hand, his lips on hers. most of all she just wants to feel him close, to feel his breath on her skin. 

matty jerks away and a loud horn of a car breaks the spell. 

“fucking dicks!” matty rolls the window down and yells at the retreating figure of teenagers in a car, one of them even flips him off and next to him she seethes. 

fuck this, fuck everything. why can’t she just have nice things. 

why must someone come and ruin it every time. 

it takes them both a minute to breathe and settle down and meet each other’s eyes again. even then there’s a slight pink tinge on his face that makes him look adorable. 

“sorry about that…” matty mumbles and taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “so…spring dance?”

“i’d love that.”

she hopes the smile she gives him is genuine. she hopes he sees it plain and simple all over her face—all the words she hasn’t said and cannot say. 

matty smiles wide. “then i forgive you.”

and it’s like a weight gets lifted off her chest. 

“you look pretty,” her mum’s eyes roam over her body, eyeing her from head to toe, flicking over certain places again and again until she almost feels naked—like the blush pink fabric doesn’t even exist. like her mum sees right through her. 

years of this has taught her that it’s not a compliment. if anything, it’s just another trap, so she focuses on her reflection in the mirror and smiles with as much warmth as she can muster. “thanks!”

her mum reeks of wine already, maybe even a little weed but it’s nearly not enough today which is surprising. she would have expected her mum to be at some bar by now. 

“i’ll be a bit late. don’t worry i have my keys though.” 

then she scoffs to herself. when has her mum ever worried? 

“who’s taking you? to the dance.”

“wha–? oh. uh, just a few friends. only met them recently.” she winces, trying to get the last of the curls in place, trying not to be too cagey in front of her mum. she doesn’t want her mum to think she’s hiding something—mostly because it never ends well, and she can’t be arsed to deal with another screaming match right now. not when there’s a ball of anxiety and anticipation in her chest, wound so tightly that it’s slowly choking the air out of her lungs. 

she just wants to be outside. she just wants matty to see her, to call her pretty and maybe even kiss her. 

she just wants this one night with him. 

just one. 

her mum huffs and stumbles into the room. everything about this woman wants to make her shrink away—the days old stink of sweat and alcohol and cigarettes, the grime under her fingernails, her beady stare… 

even when her mum’s fingers twirl around her curl, she fights not to shrink back, to slap her mum’s hand away. 

“you look pretty,” her mum repeats. “prettier than i did when i was your age.” 

her stomach churns at the cruel edge to those words but her mum isn’t done yet. “huh–not so easy to be pretty with a seven month pregnant belly. like a fucking whale…”

and there it is. 

her fault that her mum was robbed off having normal teenage experiences. 

“right, mum,” she smiles shakily, “need to get going.”

it’s almost a miracle that her mum doesn’t say anything else. mum just backs away and lets her gather her things. she quickens her pace, heart beating in her throat, hands trembling when she picks up her small purse. 

it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay

“don’t spread your legs for that boy.”

she freezes in place, almost out the door.

“wha—”

“act dumb again and i’ll make sure you never see that boy again.” 

“mum…” she swallows harshly, prays that the tears pricking her eyes don’t spill down her cheeks. then she nods and books it out of there. better to go before her mum changes her mind. 

better to go before leaving becomes impossible. 

matty makes her forget all of it. 

the moment she sees him, the shakiness in her limbs disappears, her heart thuds in her chest for all the right reasons. he’s in a suit. a fucking suit that makes him look all grown up and handsome but then his unruly curls go all over the place and suddenly she’s laughing with the boy she’s had a crush on. 

no matter what he wears and what he looks like, he will always be that boy.

the school auditorium is full of flowers—some fake, some real. all the girls around her look stunning, dressed in colourful pretty gowns. it’s all spring incarnate. 

all night he dances effortlessly, twirls so many people around him like he’s friends with everyone. and maybe he is—he’s certainly always been so much more popular than she has. she should be the one leaving. 

but she also can’t help but stare. she wonders if he is a daydream, something her lonely mind conjured up during hours filled with boredom or after long, exhausting fights with her mum. and suddenly, he is looking right at her. sweat makes his white shirt stick to his body in the most flattering way possible, makes his sweaty curls fall into his eyes until he can barely see straight.

stop ogling! 

“staring is rude, you know?” he walks—no, saunters—over to her. suddenly, there’s not enough air left in the giant school auditorium. 

“you’ve been staring too,” she counters. and she’s right. all night she’s caught his long lingering glances that make her feel like she’s coming alive. 

like a flower blooming in spring. 

“you kinda make it hard not to stare.” so does he, she thinks. but everything, from his half smile to his relaxed posture, tells her not to inflate his ego further. she stifles the faint blush creeping up her face and shakes her head bashfully.

“come on,” he says. 

at first, she doesn’t realise what’s happening. then he whisks her away to the dance floor and her shriek of surprise turns into one of delight. she has never danced like this before but that night they dance till her heart pounds in her ears, till she can’t stand straight anymore. then they sway softly, in spite of the rock and roll playing in the background. 

“you’re beautiful,” matty smiles at her, sincere and real. 

if she discovers anything about herself that early spring night, it would be her love for dancing. it’s a feeling she’s never felt before—something that almost feels like…freedom. it’s foreign at first, all the blood coursing through her body at the speed of lightning. she tries to keep track of how many times she shrieks and laughs and jumps in excitement. all of it until matty picks her up and twirls her around. 

round and round until she’s breathless and light as air and fucking free. 

somewhere after that, she loses count. at the end of the night, her dress clings to her and matty can’t stop staring. can’t stop letting his eyes roam all over her until he’s grinning himself. his smile is boyish. perfect. and just as she’s getting self-conscious, he pulls her closer. 

“you’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

next thing she knows, matty is holding her softly against the wall and kissing her bare neck. he softly caresses her waist through her dress and she shivers against the warm spring breeze. she can feel him shaking too, almost like he’s…nervous to do anything more. to actually kiss her and shatter the moment. she can’t have that, can’t let this moment slip through her fingers. 

“kiss me,” she pleads and matty moves in an instant, his warm mouth capturing hers. like he was only waiting for her permission.  

his lips are a little chapped. far from perfect and yet electricity zings through her all at once. if it weren’t for the wall, her legs might have given out from under her. she might just be a heap on the floor, surrounded by all the spring flowers. 

matty kisses with such reckless abandon that it steals her breath away. kisses her until her heart swells in her chest, ready to burst. her fingers tangle themselves into his hair and she kisses him back with everything in her. she can’t care less about how public this is, there’s only him in this moment. 

only the two of them on a warm spring night suspended in this one moment.

she almost whines when matty pulls back. annoyed beyond belief that he’d pull away now. 

“mat—”

“it’s late.”

“it’s not!”

“it is, love.” suddenly his voice has gone gentle, almost quiet. matty pulls his old phone out of his pocket (with the screen cracked and all) and holds it in front of her. the screen flashes with 11:17

shit where did all the time go?

matty makes no move to untangle himself from her arms, still pressed against her. in her ead she forms a childlike grudge against his phone. if it weren’t for it, they would have never known what time it was…

“i hate this.” her voice comes out thick with tears and something wet hits her nose. “i don’t want to go, i don’t want you to go. please.” but even then she knows how unfair it is to put him in this situation. 

matty’s caresses her cheek, wiping away her tears, smiling at her like she’s the most gentle precious thing in the whole world. 

and maybe she is. in his world. 

“you’ll finish school too,” he says, voice a low murmur, “and then you have a uni to attend. so much shit to do. god, you’re brilliant enough to get everything you want.”

but it’s you i want. still she doesn’t say it. not just yet. 

she nuzzles his palm instead, placing a soft kiss on it. “i hate spring. i wish it was autumn instead. i’d be starting uni at least.”

“and you will,” matty reassures again. “you’re going to do so many things.”

“you won’t be here to see them…”

and there it is, all the things she’s been holding deep inside laid bare. matty looks at her for a long time and smiles sadly. “who said that? i’d find you, we will keep in touch. isn’t spring meant to be about new beginnings and all that? so why don’t we start a pact?”

“that’s a silly idea,” she teases but even then she’s eager to know what he means. 

matty ignores it. “stay here for spring and summer, finish school. i’ll find you when autumn comes.”

“you’d really do that?”

“who’s gonna help you move into uni halls huh?”

through tears she laughs. only matty could make it sound so exciting. only matty could make her hate it so much less. 

she doesn’t trust herself to speak anymore so she kisses him instead. he tastes like peaches, mint and something sweet. the very first boy she’s ever loved. the boy she will always love. 

he’s leaving soon, she knows it. who knows maybe she will wake up tomorrow and he will be gone. she feels all that passes between them and she tries to send all her longing and all her yearning down that bond. for a brief second she is determined to make matty stay through sheer willpower. 

but that would be the most selfish thing she’s ever done. and so she smiles and lets him go. 

matty might be leaving but she’ll always have this one warm spring night. even as the clock inches towards midnight and a new day threatens to arrive.

for a brief moment she wonders if she can make time stand still. this one moment stretched into eternity. 

but the minutes tick by anyway. and tomorrow comes anyway.

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

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

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

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

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Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

[sohnric]

[TEASER] partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. acquaintances to lovers. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: for the teaser :: 1k || for the full fic :: approx. 32k

warnings: for the teaser :: existential dread, a fake gun, robbery || for the full fic :: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), more to be added as i edit lmao

SEND AN ASK/COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST! Posting when the editing is done and my beta reader gives me the approval and validation <3 (end of may??)

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

[raylazuko]

New headcanon.

That Diluc and Crepus are alike in a lot of ways and I get the impression that Crepus also lived vicariously through Diluc in terms of “I couldn’t be a knight so you go do that” even if he may have had some reservations with the Knights himself but wouldn’t wanna alienate them because of his kids or because of business reasons.

That Crepus and Varka have a begrudging mutual respect for each other but do not agree with each other’s tactics.

Crepus, like later Diluc, finds the knights inefficient. That he was working to bring down the Fatui in his own way secretly. There is some underground vigilante anti-Fatui group that Diluc later joined because he has contacts in Mond when he gets back.

Diluc is a kid and delluded into thinking the Knights are perfect and Crepus doesn’t wanna crush his dreams.

Then reality happens.

That Diluc has noticed some corruption already and has his reservations and annoyances. That that night was his final straw. That he’s relieved to be out of the Knights but feels like he let his father down but also has a weird feeling that he did the right thing by him.

And that he later learns more about the underground efforts and just how stupid the knights are being and that diplomacy doesn’t solve everything.

But he doesn’t wanna alienate them too much because of his begrudging respect for Kaeya.

And also he’s annoyed and slightly jealous that Kaeya took his position.

He secretly wishes Kaeya would leave but if he told Kaeya everything he knows it would destroy him. Or he just wouldn’t listen.

Or that Kaeya does know and wants to change things from the inside.

Or he stays because he thinks that’s what Crepus wanted and actually sees Diluc as disrespecting their father’s wishes.

Or Kaeya stays because the knights treated HIM well, and he doesn’t have any other family left. They ARE his family. His dad abandoned him and he doesn’t know where his mom is (if shes alive). If he has other siblings they’re probably working for the Order. His adoptive dad died and his adoptive brother views him as a pushover for staying perhaps.) Let’s also not forget that Kaeya was probably pressured into doing whatever he was forced to do as a kid as being an heir to the Abyss Order basically. He probably doesn’t know HOW to say no or stand up against institutional injustice. Anything is better than where he came from. So he mostly just distances himself from the Knights by hunting treasure hoarders for fun and gathering intel because his position is literally useless.

I also think Jean’s hands are tied because she’s also barely legal and has too much pressure and is probably going off some some handbook and can’t reorganize things too much to not piss of Varka when he gets back. Plus they’re short-staffed. It’s very likely Varka groomed Jean in some way to succeed him and just put way too much pressure on this kid so now all she knows is how to work. Yeah I don’t like Varka lol.

For Kaeya it’s like “don’t bite the hand that feeds”. Kaeya leaving the knights would lose him EVERYTHING and he cannot risk that. There’s also a real chance that Varka knows about his past and if he leaves, he would become a target due to him being potentially dangerous.

It’s just a big mess all around and Ragbros+Jean are dysfunctional adults that had unrealistic pressures put on them as kids.

[gyllenhaalstories]

DON'T LET THE GRINCH STEAL CHRISTMAS — TOMMY CAHILL 🎄

summary: not even a christmas miracle can save a familly dinner with the cahills from turning into a debacle.

warnings: i'm quoting a scene from the movie but i'm taking creative liberties, food & eating, curse words, family feud, smut (quickie, semi public sex, pussy eating & fingering). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2440

photo credits: me (@/gyllenhaalstories) / divider credits: @/saradika & @/saradika-graphics

notes: ending a second year with a tommy fic just felt right. ❤️💚 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"This food is great, Elsie. Thank you." Tommy broke the awkward silence that loomed over the dinner table. Despite the smaller plate full of discarded peas in front of him, he still enjoyed the homemade dinner offered to him.

You opened your mouth to thank the older woman, too, for being such a lovely host but you were cut off by a wave of arrogance and bitterness that washed over your side of the table.

"Compared to what?" Hank Cahill huffed mockingly.

You helped Tommy's youngest niece and silently prayed that this would not degenerate for the sake of the kids. But of course it would. It was not a proper dinner at the Cahills if it did not end up in a screaming match. "Let it go." You leaned closer to your boyfriend to whisper those words, but your attempt at calming him down was, rightfully, vain.

Tommy dropped his fork on his plate and threw his hands up, shrugging. "Other food." He sounded defeated, knowing he already lost the fight that had barely started.

"Prison food?" His father retorted.

Tommy was a ticking time bomb around his family. Again, rightfully so. Hank just loved to handle his oldest son like a grenade, throwing him in a ditch once he started the explosion so he would not have to take the blame for the collateral damage. Tommy slammed his closed fist on the table.

"Tommy!" Sam called out his name, so quick to protect his father.

And, just as quickly, Tommy shut up. He reached his arm in front of you so he could reach to the other side, trying to reassure Maggie.

You could feel that he was fuming and he tried to hold it in so things would settle down. Instead, Hank mumbled into his plate and ate a spoonful of green peas.

Unable to handle the tension, Tommy promptly sprang to his feet and walked away to hide in the bathroom.

Nobody ever stood up for Tommy. Elsie would excuse herself to the kitchen. Grace would focus on her daughters. Sam would watch with his mind lost elsewhere and, mostly, without a care for the way his father treated his brother. Nobody truly ever ever stood up for Tommy except you. If Hank took a certain malevolent delight in being mean to his son, you took just as much pleasure in calling him out for it.

You stood up just as promptly as Tommy did and threw your napkin on the table. "With all due respect, mister Cahill..."

That sentence always succeeded in putting an angry smirk on the elderly man's face. He knew you had little to no respect for him, which was exactly what he deserved.

You looked at Maggie and Isabelle, bringing your hands to your ears so they would imitate you. They giggled as they pretended to hum a little sing-song to cover up the sound of your potty mouth. "You have no room to talk as the poor excuse of a father that you are." You took advantage of the fact Tommy was out of the room to lay the truth before his father. He would not allow it otherwise. "Tommy appreciates the hard work your wife did to prepare us a lovely Christmas dinner more than you ever could. He sure as hell didn't learn thankfulness from you and you should be glad he didn't learn how to be an asshole like you 'cause that's all you know how to teach."

Isabelle and Maggie uncovered their ears and resumed to eating and talking to each other. It broke your heart a to witness just how used they had gotten to this dysfunctional family.

You pushed your chair behind you and walked around the table. You stood by the head of it and, on the other side, there was Sam standing up and looking at you with a hint of disdain, but mostly surprise. Even he could not stand up to Hank in such a way. All the bravery and courage and praise about how he was so strong for serving his country so proudly turned into dust when it came to facing a bad guy such as his father. You held his gaze for a few seconds before you huffed, in the same manner as Hank did earlier. "So much for being a hero." You looked at both Sam and Hank one last time before you made a beeline to the bathroom.

*~*~*

You closed the door behind you and took a moment to assess the scene.

Tommy was pacing back and forth in the small bathroom. He looked tense but his demeanour softened when he locked eyes with you. He shrugged, silently apologizing.

"They'll be fine." You reassured him, easily guessing that he worried about his nieces. "You'll be fine too." Your hand reached to his cheek that you stroked lovingly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tommy nodded, pressing his lips together. He kissed your forehead and lingered, as if he was charging his batteries up and as if they were fuelled by the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth that emanated from you and comforted him effortlessly. "It's just that—"

You shushed him with a peck on his lips. "Let's forget about it for now, alright?" You were met with a frown and a quizzical gaze. "They're gonna keep on being annoying. They're your family, it's what they do best." He agreed with a shrug. "Your father has already ruined so many things for you. Don't let that angry old man ruin Christmas."

You heard a faint chuckle coming from Tommy. "Like the Grinch?"

You laughed along with him. "Exactly like the Grinch."

He leaned forward for a kiss. He inhaled your scent again and further calmed down. He pulled back with a grin on his face. "I thought it was good that I talked about my feelings?"

"It is!" You defended yourself quickly. It was something you put a lot of emphasis on, to help Tommy better himself like he wanted. All that pent-up anger would lead nowhere if he followed the example of his brother and father. "I'm proud of you for working on that and talking about how you feel with me. You're doing so good at talking."

He mouthed the words 'thank you' but he frowned again while you caressed his arms up and down, the sleeves of his shirt awkwardly following your movements. It took a few seconds, but he caught on. "Let me guess..."

"Enough talking for now." You moved in closer and whispered at his ear. His family made enough noise to cover whatever sounds the two of you could make. You both knew it, it was not the first time you sneaked away from them. "But..." He squinted at you. "It's not a crime to find your boyfriend hot when he's lashing out at other people, right?"

He shook his head, telling you that it was not a crime either for him to think what you did earlier was even hotter. "Yeah, enough talking for now." Tommy smirked and pressed a kiss on your lips, a kiss that got deep and rough in no time. The mood shift was very much welcome.

Your hands caressed their way up to the collar of his shirt, clinging onto it. You kept making out, only taking quick breaks to catch your breath.

Meanwhile, Tommy's hands moved down to your ass and gave it a hard squeeze. He guided you towards the vanity so you could lean on the counter, not once did his lips leave yours. Instead, his tongue invaded your mouth and he swallowed your moans.

You held his face in your hands for a moment or two, enjoying the kiss to the fullest before you moved on to something else.

He pulled his head back when he felt your hand now in his short hair. Tommy smirked and, without any resistance, he let you push down on him until he got on his knees.

"You look so pretty down there." You murmured.

You thought he was too distracted to hear you by the way he hungrily peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, but the words you spoke sent a wave of pleasure down to his cock. That's not what he wanted to focus on right now.

The main focus was you and the soft whimpers you let out when he kissed your pussy over your panties. You were glad Tommy convinced you to wear a skirt for Christmas dinner.

He grunted, displeased by how his brain reminded he did not have the luxury to take his time. He pushed your panties to the side and held the fabric out of the way with his thumb as the rest of his hand pushed your leg open for him. He buried his tongue between your folds and let out a moan louder than yours.

You covered your mouth with one hand and bunched your skirt up with the other.

Tommy’s tongue lapped at your pussy, closing his eyes blissfully at the taste of you.

You started to move your hips, disregarding the uncomfortable counter that rubbed against your ass. You humped Tommy’s face and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his nose bumped on your clit, and as his tongue teased your entrance.

With his spit and your wetness, it was like your body was begging for him to fuck you. You had to wait for that, and he was already getting impatient. He pushed his middle finger inside of you and sucked on your clit, that was as close as he would get to feeling you wrapped around him.

Luckily for you, the Christmas music coming from the living room kept your activities safe between Tommy and you. There was no way your moans, and Tommy’s, could be heard.

But, to be even more careful, Tommy’s hand on your thigh gave it a squeeze. He flicked his tongue on your clit just how you liked it, pumping his finger in and out of you quite fast.

You abandoned your skirt to put your hand on his head and hold him in place. It was the most subtle way you could think of telling him that he felt so fucking good.

And he knew it. He pulled away for a short moment, just long enough to catch his breath and to give you one of his cocky smirks. His beard was glistening, his lips were wet and his eyes were dark with lust.

You barely had enough time to admire this beautiful sight that he was back at it. His beard burned on your sensitive skin, but, in the heat of the moment, it felt too good to stop. He was making your head fall back in pleasure as you felt the familiar tension of your orgasm approach.

Tommy's finger curled up inside you, finding that sweet spot that made you whimper. His tongue met with your clit and this time, he was not stopping. He was not stopping even if you tried so had to close your legs around him. He was not stopping even if you tried to control the pace with your hand on his head. He wanted, and needed, you to cum and he knew just how much you needed it too.

"Oh, fuck!" You moaned out, immediately biting on your finger to prevent another slip up. You wanted to tell him so badly how close you were, but it was pointless.

He already knew. He sucked on your clit and pumped his middle finger in your wet pussy a few more times until he felt your walls clench tight around him. Tommy fought against your body, just carrying you over the edge until he was convinced you could no longer take it.

Your vision was blurry aside from the little stars that were spinning around Tommy's head when you looked down. You forgot how to breathe, how to move even, until Tommy slowly slid his finger out of you and let you come back to your senses.

The sloppy kiss you shared after that was heavenly. You could taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, and it only got the two of you even more eager for what would happen the second you were left actually alone.

Tommy adjusted your panties back in their place and flattened your skirt, or, well, he tried to. You looked rough and so did he with his face shiny from your wetness.

You kissed him again, quickly, before you turned the faucet on and helped him wash himself clean as best as you could get it. While the water was running, you moved closer to his ear and asked a rather important question. "So, what's the escape plan?"

Tommy's eyes widened. Right. You guys needed a plan. It was not the first time you sneaked away like that, but he always forgot how awkward it could be. "Can you fake a tummy ache?"

"You're so clever." You chuckled and patted his face dry with a tissues.

The two of you took deep breaths and tried to darken your expression, although it was hard to shake off the pure pleasure you had experienced.

They were surprisingly gullible and believed in your lame excuse, at the exception of Maggie who whispered to her sister that you were one of Santa's elves and uncle Tommy had to drive you to the toy factory. They were so caught up in their conspiracy theory that they barely let you out without a hug, but they rushed to the front door for a kiss goodbye.

Hank looked at his son disapprovingly, Elsie promised to save slices of pie and cake to be picked up when you felt better. Grace smiled and focused her attention back on her kids and her husband.

You got out of there as if nothing happened. As if there had not been a huge fight, as if that same fight had not been resolved by Tommy devouring your pussy like it was his last meal.

A last meal that needed to be followed by dessert, Tommy's hand that was on your thigh while he drove his truck home reminded you of the rest of your evening plans. You watched him drive and you played the game of whether he could be patient enough to wait for you two to be home or if he would give up halfway and take you in the back of his pick-up.

Judging by the way Tommy was smiling and beaming, one thing was for sure: the Grinch was not successful in stealing Christmas this year.

[ginnyfics21]

Melting over this absolutely stunningly GORGEOUS scene art commission done by @a-loveunlaced (thank you, thank you, thank you for this <3) for the epilogue chapter of The Art of Ascension, bringing this 305k word story to its well-deserved end.

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Excerpt from Chapter 63/63 of The Art of Ascension:

“I love our dysfunctional little family,” Hermione said with a laugh to herself once the last of their friends had disappeared through the green flames, replaying the night in her mind. She lay her head on Draco's shoulder, alcohol making her smile easy and her eyes heavy, despite their place sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the armchair.

“I do, too,” he said sleepily, head lulling back against the fabric of the arm.

“I just want this feeling to last forever, you know. Can’t we just have nights like these forever?”

“We can,” he nodded. “You can have me forever and I can have you and we can have all of them. Just marry me and the deal is done.” He said it casually, without a thought and Hermione laughed. He picked his head up from the chair and looked down at her, “I’m not joking, love. Marry me. Let’s do this forever.”

“Draco, you’ve drank too much tonight,” she waved him off, “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that’s ever been clear,” he shrugged, “You and me.” Crookshanks strutted over to them, grazing his tail against Draco’s arm as Draco’s head lolled towards the cat, “And Crooks. You, me and Crooks. This is the only forever I want. Our friends come with the package. But if forever looks like anything else, you may as well off me now.”

Hermione huffed, “You’re being dramatic.”

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged again.

She laughed and pushed herself up, pulling her dress over her hips and draping a leg across him to straddle his lap as she leaned down and kissed him. It was sloppy and it was sleepy, but it was so damn lovely. “Let’s drag ourselves to bed, Draco. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“And I can barely keep my hands off of you,” he responded, pulling her lips back to his as his hand slipped the strap of her dress off her shoulder, the fabric over her chest going with it as he cupped her breast, his other hand sliding down to sink into her hip. She loved what she felt in his kiss—it was unhurried and wanting and easy. Easy like their night had been; easy in the best, most carefree and confident way. Forever sounded nice, like this.

[taleasnewastime]

All that remains | Part 1

[ PART THREE TO GROWING PAINS ]

Summary: You betrayed them all, acted on your own selfishness; will Jimin ever forgive you?

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, mentions of death, blood, depression, mentions of a slight alcohol problem, drinking alcohol, feelings of being alone and isolated

Authors note: Sorry this has taken so long, and thank you for sticking around and waiting for this. Not as long as others in the series but there is more to come! Possibly a slow start but I promise that there is lots more to come and things will start heating up in no time. Part 2 won't take as long!!

Masterlist | Next

THREE MONTHS AND TWELVE DAYS LATER

The cold hits you as you exit the café. Turning, you lock the door, checking you’ve remembered to turn all the lights off. You managed to get this job not long after everything fell apart, climbing up to assistant manager quickly. It’s not your dream job, not the best pay and you could definitely get something better, but the job isn’t stressful, you don’t mind the people, it pays the bills and it’s all you need right now. You don’t want to lose this job because you forgot to turn the lights off.

The evening is dark. Beams of light coming from the streetlights. The weather’s turning cold, but you’re thankful it’s not raining like it does seemingly every day recently. It’s reflecting your mood. Dark, moody, just generally down. There are few days at the moment when you feel happy.

It’s been months since the police raid, tipped off by you with enough solid evidence to bring the organisation down. Months since your brother got locked away. Months since your whole life changed. Months since you betrayed everyone who raised you.

It’s just you and Jungkook now. The two of you supporting yourselves. In the same city just in a different part to the house you were raised in. The two of you barely scrapping by.

Oh, and Jimin.

Not working, hardly talking and barely showing his face. You and Jungkook working to support three, like some dysfunctional family. You’re struggling, only just keeping your heads above water. The flat you live in is old and cold, just enough space to squeeze the three of you in. On the sixth floor of a building with no elevator. Your neighbour’s people who the government have forgotten. People living on the margins, with little education and hardly any income, people just trying to survive like you, many of them people you’d avoid at all cost, as dangerous as people you’d meet in the gang only now you hold no status.

You take a breath when you get to the bottom of the steps to your building, mentally preparing for the six flights of steps to come and the lonely flat after that. The damp, the cold, the loneliness, hardly things to look forward to. You hate it, but it’s all you can afford and for the roof it provides you’re happy enough.

“Hello?” You call out into the quiet flat getting no reply.

Unsurprising, though you wonder if you truly are home alone. Jungkook will be out at work, either the personal trainer job or working security at a new club in town. Jimin will probably be holed up in his room doing you don’t know what.

You sigh as you head to the kitchen, routing through the freezer for something to heat up. There are only a few things to eat, nothing exciting but you’re too tired to cook anything.

Life isn’t any better, it’s not any easier, it’s not sunshine and rainbows. Your plan worked. Now you just need to try and get on with life. You knew this would be the outcome, you didn’t expect a life of luxury, you just didn’t quite expect this. The quietness. The monotonous days. The barely scraping by. The loneliness.

It’s been months since everything went down. Months since you ratted to the police, used your leverage in the gang to bring them down. You backstabbed them all, just like they did to you all those years ago. And while your plan paid off, you got what you wanted, you don’t feel complete satisfaction.

It was never something you planned. Or at least you never sat down and plotted it all out. The idea itself manifested over the years, grew from a simple conversation. It was never something you thought you’d do, more a fantasy than reality.

It was Jungkook’s idea originally. A seed he planted in your mind that grew the more distance you had, the longer you had to think it over.

You felt so alone, for so long and then Jungkook appeared. Seeped into your life so thoroughly that you no longer felt as lonely. You’d never trusted anyone enough to tell them your story, but for some reason Jungkook was different. Maybe it was because he was from a similar background, maybe it was because he made you feel less alone or maybe it was just as simple as him listening to you. Whatever it was, piece by piece, it all started to come out of you. Slowly at first, and then one night when you’d had a little bit too much to drink, all at once.

It was Jungkook that planted the seed, a mere comment about how he heard a company going down because of a whistle-blower. The CEO was bullying its staff, guilt tripping them into staying later than they should and never being happy with the outcome of work. Not comparable to your gang or situation at all. But it was that comment that blossomed everything.

For months that turned into years you mulled over the thought. Whistle-blower. Someone on the inside who knows everything that’s going on and reports it. Reports wrongdoings. Can take down the company with mere words.

Your bitterness rotted over time to hatred which quickly turned to vengeance. The fact you had little contact with anyone only made it worse. Sure, it was your father who instigated it, but you’d have thought there would be one person on your side. And even though your brother contacted you, it was so infrequent with so little information that it felt like he needn’t have bothered. It felt like he was doing it as another job, contacting you because he had to not because he wanted to. You resented him; for having it all, for not helping you, for letting you leave, for not standing up to your father.

Whistle-blower. A much nicer word than grass, snitch or rat. Just a word, but a word that made you think maybe you could do it.

You knew so much. And yet part of you knew you’d never do it.

And then you got the call, your father was dead.

Even as you flew back home, the thought still in your mind, you didn’t think you’d go through with it. The funeral was cold, everyone avoiding you as if you were infected. Your meeting with Yoongi didn’t make you feel any better. He wanted proof, wanted you to show he could trust you as if everything you had done up until that point wasn’t enough. Your whole life was to appease them, everything you did was to make them happy. And it was then that you realised that nothing you could do would be good enough. Even if you gave Yoongi proof you doubted he would ever truly welcome you into the family.

Hearing Jimin scream about wanting you out only sealed the deal. If they didn’t want you, you’d show them where they could stick it, show them how strong you could be.

You knew they would be arrogant enough to think you’d want back in, that you’d do anything if it meant you’d get your place alongside them. All you needed to do was play along. Because who wouldn’t want to be part of what they had? No matter how they treated you, no matter how you grew, they’d always think your feelings would remain the same.

But you did grow, you did change. And you realised Jimin was right. The gang wasn’t what you dreamed it was. It wasn’t your family, it wasn’t the only option you had. It didn’t want you. And now you didn’t want it.

Jungkook did most of the work because you weren’t stupid enough to be meeting the police when you were supposed to be looking into your father’s death. He did other things when he drifted off in the mornings on his own, but a lot of the time he was feeding information and planning how best to raid the gang. It was you who suggested that if you found out who the killer was you could line it all up, get the confrontation to be in a place the police could surround.

You knew it was a risk, had been told by everyone who knew what you were doing that it was a risk. They wouldn’t be able to get them all and even if they did, they wouldn’t charge them all. People would know it was you or would be able to connect the dots given long enough. It was a risk to your life and yet you still decided to do it.

After it all went down, the police gave you protection for a bit. Helped get you onto your feet, some money so you could afford a small but relatively safe flat and a rotation of plain clothed officers outside. But when weeks went by with no threats they were quick to decide it was a waste of their money and resources and you were safe. Sure, you helped them, you were key in them getting the evidence to bring the gang down. But the deal was always two sided, they always knew that there was something in it for you, even if that was some sick satisfaction in bringing down your own family.

Is it worse that you did all of this because of revenge, or would it have been worse if you’d been paid off by the police to do it?

And now it’s all done.

But was it worth it? All you have now is a crappy flat you share with Jungkook who you hardly see and Jimin who actively avoids you. A job that barely gets you by. A brother in jail because you put him there. A guilt that will stay with you forever.

No family, barely any friends. You’ve never felt so lonely.

Eyes still half closed from sleep; you look up to wish Jungkook a good morning. Only when you look up it’s not Jungkook you see.

The clattering and movement you heard was Jimin. The guy that lives with you but that you’ve only seen in passing or heard through walls in the past month. Now stood in front of you. Just like you he’s stood staring back at you, only rather than the shock and spark of joy you feel in seeing him, he only looks mildly annoyed back at you.

“Hi,” you say after a long pause, voice breathy even as you try to act normal.

He doesn’t reply, just stares at you for a second more before twisting to look back at the coffee he was making.

Ok, you think, taking a breath before you walk further into the room. The joy still remains, just a little dampened.

“Did you want food with that?” You ask. “I brought some pastries home yesterday from the café. They’re in the bread bin.”

You’re not even sure Jimin’s aware you work in a café, that that’s the wage that’s keeping you all a float, or at least is with the help of Jungkook. And now, Jimin doesn’t say anything or do anything to suggest he cares. His back muscles tense below his top, his shoulders hunched and his face looking resolutely down at the coffee machine.

Deciding he’s not going to give you anything else you move to the bread bin of your own accord. You know he hates you, know he’s probably wishing he weren’t here right now, but he is and you’re not going to let the opportunity pass.

“Well, I’m going to have one,” you mutter, still putting fake happiness into your tone as if to try and prove that this situation isn’t bothering you.

Your eyes keep flicking to Jimin when he’s no longer in your direct line of site. You can still hear him making the coffee and yet you’re worried he’ll disappear into thin air. You can’t blame him for the way he’s acting, part of you is annoyed at him, still hates him and yet you’re worried about him. It’s not good for him to be cooped up for so long, it’s not normal nor healthy. And yet you can’t get him to even look at you.

You wish Jungkook were here. He’d know what to do or say. And maybe Jimin would talk to him.

Pulling two plates out, you place a pastry on each. Awkwardly you turn and place one of them between you and Jimin. It’s not close to him, he’ll have to reach out and get it if he wants it. Worse than that, you imagine, is that he’ll have to turn back in your direction.

Sighing, the happiness getting harder to keep hold of, you decide that it’s not worth sticking around for. He doesn’t want you here. If you can give him anything, then at least you can do that.

“I’ll just,” you mutter, pausing only for a second before grabbing your plate and shuffling to the door. Words you want to say get lodged in your throat and you have to force yourself not to look back at him.

Maybe he is better off without you.

“The usual?”

A smile threatens to lift on the man’s lips. “Do I come here that often?”

“I think the question should be, am I that predictable?”

The man chuckles, his eyes dancing away from you before coming back when he’s controlled the noise. “Well, I already know the answer to that.”

“Black coffee and a croissant then?”

He hums, his eyes going to the counter which holds all the cakes as you start to type in his order.

“Which is your favourite?”

You pause and look at him, he waits with that same smile on his lips. You find your own eyes going to the cakes. No one’s asked that before, no one’s particularly interested in you. Sure, customers ask you questions and take an interest but there’s something about this guy. It’s not weird, just … different.

“Uh,” you pause, trying to keep the smile on your lips. “I like the lemon drizzle.”

He smiles at you, again not weird but something about it makes you uneasy. Especially when he just smiles and doesn’t say anything. You put it down to be an odd customer, maybe he’s lonely. Or maybe it’s you. So unused to someone being interested in you that you’re putting the blame on him rather than on yourself.

He moves to the end of the counter and watches as you prepare his coffee and then pick out a croissant.

“Here you go,” you plaster a smile on your lips as you hand over his coffee and pastry.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, eyes darting to your name badge and back.

You heart stutters as you watch him leave. Just a harmless man but you always read into things since leaving. Everyone you meet knows who you are, everyone who looks at you the wrong way wants you dead. Despite leaving the gang in your past, you can’t help but still live that way. Always defensive, always thinking the worst in people. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to shake it off.

“I have an idea,” Jungkook says it casually, but you can hear the note of edge in his voice. He’s expecting you to ask what the idea is but when you don’t enquire he’s forced to carry on. “So, uh, Colin at work mentioned that Ed might be leaving because his ex-contacted him, the one that moved to Scotland, and they were asking if –” Jungkook cuts himself off when he sees your face, realising he’s giving too much detail and not getting to the point. “Anyway, Ed’s leaving so I mentioned to my manager that I might know someone who’d be good for the job.”

You still don’t speak, you think you know what he’s saying from this, but you want to hear him spell it out. For a few seconds there’s a stalemate of silence, Jungkook not wanting to spell it out, you not wanting to assume.

“He needs to get out of the house, he needs to do something,” he’s finally turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.

“You don’t need to plead with me,” you say earning an eye roll. “He’s not going to take it.”

There’s a pause and when Jungkook talks his tone is hesitant, “but, you’ll still ask?”

You can read the meaning behind the words, you caused this, you need to sort it out. There’s no way to argue with that. You did create this mess and you dragged Jungkook into it. He’s at least done something to try and help out. It sounds like you have to do the rest.

“We can’t keep living like this. Only the two of us supporting all three of us. Only just scraping by. He needs to pull his –”

“I get it,” you cut him off. Gritting your teeth, you force your lips into a smile as you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll ask.”

Jungkook waits, sizes you up as if he can read whether you’re going to do it or not. You’re not sure when your relationship became like this, stilted, forced. Maybe in the gaps between seeing each other. Or maybe when you dragged him over here just to blow everything up. Or maybe it was when he felt the expectation not to leave you, to stay with you and help you through this mess, ruining his own life as well as your own.

You miss him. But just like everything else in your life right now, you don’t know what to do to get him back. You can barely keep your own head above water, how are you supposed to think of anything else?

Taking a small breath, loosening your face so you’re not so tense, you say in a voice that’s more certain, “I’ll ask him.”

Jungkook’s features soften the same way yours do. He nods before walking towards you.

“He’ll come around,” he says, hand going to your shoulder and squeezing gently. “I’ll see you later.”

You swallow, nod even though he’s not looking at you and then mutter, “have a nice day.”

You don’t want to do this. Really don’t want to do this.

It’s just a door. All you have to do is reach a hand out, form a fist and knock. Simple. But it’s who might come to the door that terrifies you, what they might do when they answer the door, or more what they won’t do.

Taking a breath, you knock on the door.

You hear the footsteps, your heart pounding to the same beat they walk. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, Jimin stood staring expectantly at you. Voice caught in your throat it’s him that breaks the silence.

“Want a squash?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just brushes past you leaving you standing outside his door. Heart still pounding, blood swirling in your ears you take a second before following. Jimin’s already pouring an inch of squash into a pint glass when you get to the kitchen, no sight of a glass for you.

Stood like a spare part you watch Jimin’s back as he fills his glass with water and then takes a long gulp. Feeling awkward and conscious that you left this conversation until the last possible moment before you need to go to work, you head to the fridge. Almost unseeing you pick out the first thing your fingers land on.

Hip leaning on the counter, Jimin’s dark eyes follow you as you walk around the room, first for a plate, then for a chair at the small breakfast bar that couples as the only place to eat in the flat.

“You wanted to tell me something?” He asks the second you take your first bite of food.

Chewing slowly, you mull over the words while also not wanting to give him too much time to walk out and not speak to you again. It’s the first time it’s occurred to you that maybe Jimin already knows what this is about. It’s a small flat, the walls not exactly thick and you and Jungkook weren’t being careful to stop him overhearing the other day. The fact he might already know what you’re about to suggest only makes you more nervous.

“Jungkook mentioned there’s a job going at his place,” you speak to your food rather than Jimin but when he doesn’t reply you flick your eyes to look up at him.

The glass of squash is empty on the counter next to him. His arms crossed against his chest. His face still broody and eyes half lidded looking at you. You fight the urge to look away from him. There was once a time you took down a whole gang. You can take on Jimin.

“The hours aren’t ideal, but the pays ok,” your voice comes out steady, you’ve always been good at hiding your true feelings behind a mask of indifference. “Jungkook thinks he can get it for you, but he wanted to ask –”

“So why didn’t he?”

It surprises you, makes your heart ache a little how flatly he says it. Still, you hold yourself together. “Because he’s at work. He asked me to pass the message on.”

He hums, a short, unimpressed noise. A noise that makes you twist to take another bite of food. It tastes like sand in your mouth.

“Would you just say it?” You mutter, the ache caused by your heart making you hot headed. You look back at Jimin seeing it’s his time to be surprised. “You clearly have stuff you want to say. So would you just say it already?”

It doesn’t take much convincing. You can see one of his fingers tapping on his crossed arms, his jaw tight.

“You betrayed us, Y/N, why would I ever trust you again?”

“I betrayed you? Jimin, you were the one who always said you wanted out. I got you out.”

“At the cost of my best friend? At the cost of the people who I classed as my family losing everything? At the cost of me losing everything? You think I wanted that?”

It hurts and you don’t point out that he hasn’t lost you, that surely that’s something; because clearly it’s not. Clenching your teeth, you just focus on not showing him your emotions. You didn’t expect your decision to be popular, but you could have let him go down with the rest of them, you thought that would have amounted to something, you thought that would have confirmed some of your feelings you had for him were still there.

“You betrayed your own family, Y/N,” he’s looking at you as if he doesn’t recognise you and it breaks you that much more.

You didn’t want to fight with him. You expected him to be angry with you, to say things that upset you, you just thought you’d be able to take it better than you are. But it all hits you. The emotions long bottled inside you finally come crashing out.

“My family?” You bite, frowning at the words, your hurt boiling down into frustration. “What family, Jimin? Tell me when they ever treated me like family? Was it when they forced me out, or when they refused to welcome me back? Maybe it was when they failed to recognise the fact that even as a woman I could do as much as them?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t reply verbally. It tells you everything. He has no argument against anything you’ve just said. And yet he still defends them.

“I’m not expecting a thank you. I don’t expect you to necessarily forgive me, but come on, you need to move on at some point. I’m doing all of this, giving you a home, the least you can do is contribute a little.” Or just leave, you add in your head.

A nerve ticks in his jaw. Despite his words and the way he now looks at you, you still feel hope. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, but if he hated you that much he could have left by now. He’s not contributing anything to this household, but at least he’s still here.

Still, you worry about him. Despite your words, you don’t want him to leave. You hardly see him, and yet if he wasn’t here you think that would be your breaking point.

“Let me know what you want to do about the job,” you sigh the words as you stand from the table.

Taking the bowl to the sink you place it with the rest of the dirty dishes, knowing you’ll have to clean them later but not having the energy to do it now. With Jungkook working two jobs and Jimin clearly not wanting to be here it always falls on you. You try and not let it get to you but sometimes you wonder if all of this was a mistake. Maybe you should have stayed away. Maybe you should never have come back.

As you turn to leave Jimin speaks, stopping you.

“There’s just one thing I keep wondering,” you wait for him to say it, your features hard so as not to betray your feelings. “Why did you come back for me? Why did you get me out?”

Your focus is on the door rather than him. You’ve been expecting this, not least because you’ve been questioning it yourself. Even Jungkook brings it up at any opportunity he can.

“Because you wanted out,” you say and before you can think better of it, carry on. “And honestly, Jimin, at this point if you don’t know why, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

Before he can come back with anything you carry on towards the door. You’ve got things you need to be doing, even if Jimin doesn’t, you’re trying to get back into a normal life.

“Let me know if you want that job.”

Your life becomes monotonous. A drag of waking up early to clean the flat, heading off to work and doing long shifts, coming home to a quiet house that is mess of dishes and clothes again, a storm left behind in Jungkook and Jimin’s wake. You don’t berate Jungkook, he’s doing so much for you that you can tolerate cleaning up after him. But some days that thought doesn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t complain to Jimin if you wanted to, still hardly ever see him.

It’s lonely, boring, a life you never thought you’d have. And yet here you are.

You carry on going only because of Jungkook and Jimin. Though you never see them, you feel like you’re why they’re here. If you hate this, then they surely hate it. You caused this, the least you could is not abandon them.

Slowly, you open up to people at work. Enough that you can have small conversations with them on breaks, but not enough that they know anything significant about you. They’re still more co-workers than friends. But it’s nice to have people in your life to talk to even if it is mainly about the weather and their lives.

It’s repetitive. Boring. Lonely. And you start to find the only thing that helps is a glass of wine in the evenings. Not much, but even the small amount of alcohol helps take the edge off. It helps your mind become quieter, helps the day feel less long, helps you actually look forward to something. It helps your heart stop aching. Helps you drift off to sleep a little easier.

“So, uh, I have to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask as you shove the jam covered slice of toast into your mouth, only half listening to Jungkook as you pour a cup of tea.

“Can you sit for a minute?”

“I have to get to the shop for opening.”

“Y/N,” he doesn’t say it sharply, but the tone he uses is still enough to get you to look at him. “It’ll only take a minute. Please, will you just sit?”

It does its job, you finally stop long enough to look at him. You hadn’t realised just how nervous he was. He’s holding it together but you can see it in his tense shoulders and stiff posture. Your nerves peak as you place your toast on a plate and stop pouring your tea. You don’t rush to sit down, your mind whirling with thoughts of what he could possibly be about to tell you.

“You’re worrying me,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t immediately spit it out.

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not. But it’s good.”

“Ok?”

He pauses, the silence only increasing the sick feeling in your stomach, only increasing the amount of thoughts swimming around your head. You’re about to tell him to hurry up but he beats you to it.

“I met someone,” he rushes to say. “A girl. And she’s asking me to move in with her.”

A wave of emotions run over you. Surprise, since when did that happen? Anger, because moving in with someone is a big thing, which means he must have been hiding this from you for a while. Hurt, that he didn’t talk to you, that he hid this from you. And a sad happiness for him. Because although he looks worried you can see the hope and desire there, he wants your approval for this but worries you won’t give it.

“Who is she?”

“A girl I met at work.”

“And you know her well enough to be moving in together?”

He’s flushed but keeps a straight face. “I met her my first day, but we only started dating a few months ago.”

Months. Your heart drops with the information. Because he never told you about it, because he has more of a life than you, because it only solidifies how lonely you are. He’s your family and he’s only telling you about his girlfriend, someone he likes enough to be moving in with, months after they met. You once would have been the first person he told. He once would have been too excited to keep the information from you. You once would have been too observant for him to even try and hide something like this from you.

And just like that, more walls of your life crumble around you.

Heart beating in your throat you try not to show him your emotions. It’s been easy to hide how depressed you’ve felt recently from him, more because you hardly see him, but you’re also a master at hiding behind a mask. Now, you have to turn away from him to hide your face, a sure fire way to tell him just how you feel.

Predictably, you hear him take a step in your direction, “it won’t change –”

“I know,” you curse your tight throat as another give away.

“I’ll come back all the time,” he adds. “I can still help you with bills.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say before taking a deep breath and looking back at him, forcing a smile onto your lips. “I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But before he can continue to protest you carry on.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“But I’d like it,” he says, slipping into your old roles. “There’s not enough room for me here and we can’t all live here together forever. But I also don’t want to leave you here. I know you’re struggling but we all need to move on from what’s happened.”

Move on from the mess you made. Move on from the betrayal. If everything had gone to plan you would have moved on, or at least Jungkook would have. Jimin would have been behind bars. You would have been on your own wallowing the same way you are now. Maybe there was a small part of you that hoped you’d be able to move on too, to make something of yourself, to start a new life. But a large part of you knew this would be your life. You at least imagined you’d be able to pretend, push your thoughts down deep, try to not think of your brother and Jimin locked up all day, of Jungkook moving on.

Jungkook has only stuck around so long because you changed plans, because you went back for Jimin. Jungkook deserves to go live his life.

“You think leaving me and Jimin here alone is a good thing?” You feel guilty as soon as you say the words.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he says, “maybe it’ll help bring you closer.”

You glare at him. “He barely leaves his room.”

“Maybe you should force him out a bit more.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

You regret the words instantly, but even though Jungkook has time to flash you a cheeky smile, you don’t have time to interrupt him before he says, “I can think of several things that you could do to get Jimin out of that room.”

“Gross,” you say flatly, pushing past him. “If you’re saying all of this to get me to tell you to leave, it’s working.”

There’s a small chuckle behind you, but there’s no smile on your lips now. Your heart still thumps in your throat.

You’re happy for him, really you are. It’s just sad. You can’t help but feel like everyone’s slipping away from you.

It’s no good, with Jungkook gone it fixes nothing between you and Jimin.

Jungkook visits still but it’s not the same. While he’s getting on with his life, creating something new, you’re still stuck. In a different place, under different circumstances but going nowhere. And now you don’t have anyone.

You grow lonelier. Hardly seeing anyone besides the people at work. Inside your own head more only makes things worse. Gives you time to remember how things used to be, how different it is now. It makes you remember the smiles. Because life wasn’t always bad, there were good times.

And you ruined it all.

You brought this on you. You couldn’t get over the fact your family didn’t want you and you destroyed it for everyone. There’s no pretending that there wasn’t good from it, that you were helping people as much as ruining many people’s lives. But it was selfish, you did it all for you. And now you can’t help but wonder if it was worth it.

To be in this tiny flat, barely getting by. With Jungkook moved out and moving on. Hardly seeing Jimin, the little you do he says little and avoids your gaze. Your brother in jail. You have no one.

And still you get up every day. Still you clean and cook and go to work. You try to carry on with your life as best you can. Try to push the bad thoughts away. Try and pretend life is normal.

Jimin’s door is open when you get home. It feels like slow motion as you walk to the door frame and creak open the door and peer in. Empty.

This is it, you think, he’s finally left me.

Your eyes glance around the small room. A single bed, blue sheets crisp and neatly tucked in. Cream shades pulled down over the window to block the night out. A wooden chest of draws leaving enough room to shuffle between it and the bed. A small desk, only big enough for a lamp and laptop. No personality. No indication of who lives here. No attachment, ready to be left at the drop of a hat.

He wouldn’t leave, would he? Part of you thinks he would. But the other part thinks of his room, all of his stuff still sat in there and thinks he wouldn’t leave without it. Another part hopes he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

Maybe he’s just gone out, the first time you’ve caught him doing that, you expect because he only ever risks leaving his room when he knows he won’t see you. But Jungkook text you earlier letting you know Jimin finally accepted the job, so maybe this is the start of him getting back into himself.

You know it’s your insecurities talking. Because though you don’t doubt Jimin doesn’t wants to be here, you also know he has nowhere else to go. He doesn’t have the money from his job yet, he’s still having to rely on you.

You walk back to the kitchen, get as far as opening the fridge to see what you can find to eat for tea. But you stop there. A thought occurs to you.

It’s stupid really. He’s probably just gone out for food or to the pub. But you can’t stop thinking about it when the thought occurs.

What if he’s on the roof?

He won’t be. And even if he is what would that mean? That he wanted some fresh air probably. But he won’t even be there.

You take a box of leftovers out of the fridge walk over and place it by the microwave but get no further.

What if he’s on the roof?

The thought takes you over enough that you end up forgetting about food and instead head to the front door again. You don’t even put your coat on as you head up the stairs rather than down them. You feel a little out of breath when you reach the steel door at the top. Pausing you take a breath, try to wrangle your thumping heart into a box, settle your expectations so that you won’t be disappointed.

The door feels cold as you push it open. Your heart plumets when you first see empty space, but then soars when you see a figure huddled off to the side. You can’t stop the words escaping your mouth.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Jimin looks across at you, his eyes are heavy and make him look like he’s had little sleep. His smile is small and compared to his normal smile does nothing to light up his face. But it’s still a smile.

“It’s not quite the same as our roof.”

Our roof. The words make your breath catch in your throat. Looking out at the night to hide your emotions at the words you walk towards him until you can rest on the ledge next to him.

“The views not as good,” you agree after a few seconds of silence.

He hums in reply, a silence falling over the two of you. It’s not just the view that’s different, it’s everything. The silence eats at you in a way it never has before when you’ve been with Jimin. He’s lost his spark and you can’t help but blame yourself for that. You’ve changed his life, whether or not it’s for the better you made such a monumental decision on his behalf without considering how it might affect him. While you’re in no doubt he would have done the same for you, you can’t help but let the decision eat away at you. Should you have done it? Would it be better if you hadn’t dragged him away under false pretence? Would it be easier for him to hate you if he wasn’t sat next to you?

“Jungkook told me you’d accepted the job at the club,” you say meekly, not wanting to rock the boat too much. “I’m happy for you.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, doesn’t hum or nod like he normally does when you talk to him these days. And like always you try and pretend it doesn’t hurt you.

“And hey, maybe it’ll mean you can start paying towards the bills.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you regret them. Even though you say them in a light-hearted tone, clearly as a joke, you know Jimin won’t hear it that way. He’s probably thinking that you mean it, that you want him to give you money, that you want him gone. All of which is the opposite of what you want.

“Sorry I –”

“No,” he cuts you off with a mutter. “You’re right, I should be doing more.”

Well shit.

That was the last thing you expected him to say, which effectively stops your brain from coming up with any other words.

The two of you stand in silence looking out at the city. The noise of the road and some young people shouting and laughing reaches you from the street below. Part of you hates this, but another part doesn’t want to do anything to stop it. At least Jimin’s here. At least you’re not entirely alone. At least you’re not fighting.

“I went to see Yoongi.”

Your head snaps his way. When did he do that? How had he done that? The questions forms in your head but your mouth is unable to create the words. Jimin doesn’t look at you, his features not showing any emotions. He’s impossible to read. But, despite your silence, he must know what questions you want to ask as he goes on to answer them all.

“I found out where they locked him up and requested visitation. I wasn’t expecting it to be accepted, I thought the second they had him they’d throw away the key. It took a few weeks, but my request was accepted.”

Your breath becomes laboured. Your brain working faster than Jimin can get the words out, trying to second guess what he’s going to say.

In the pause after his words he finally turns to look at you. His eyes dart around your face as if trying to remember you. You wait, give him time to say whatever it is he’s thinking. Your heart hoping, but your mind reminding you how much you’ve hoped in the past and how every time Jimin’s let you down.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Now it’s you avoiding his face. The words, the way he says them and the gentle yet pained look on his face makes your throat dry. You can’t answer him. You don’t know what he wants you to say, because even if you had an answer, you don’t know how it would make it better.

“You let me think this whole time you’d locked him up,” he carries on. “But you made a plea deal for him.”

It’s not a question but you still find yourself nodding in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He repeats.

“I wasn’t sure he’d accept the deal,” you say, not the real answer. After a beat you add, “would it have changed anything?”

“Maybe,” he mutters but you know it’s a lie. It wouldn’t have changed anything, it’s one of the reasons you never said anything.

The silence drags out. Both of you staring out at the world below you, cars honking, people getting on with their lives, buildings standing steady and tall. The world hasn’t changed, it’s still going on. It doesn’t provide any comfort. All these weeks you’ve been struggling, silently getting on with life and Jimin’s been seeing Yoongi and clinging onto your old life, blaming you for everything.

You’ve had enough of it.

“You know,” you say, ignoring the fact that your voice his raspy and full of emotion. “It still hurts that you don’t believe in me. It’s stupid, because you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but you really have a knack for making be me believe you. I could have told you about Yoongi, but would that have changed anything? You’re only saying all this because you feel guilty, but you’ve always thought the bare minimum of me until I’ve proved the opposite. I’ve always had to work for your approval, Jimin, no matter what you want to think. And it’s stupid, but it still breaks me when you automatically think the worst of me. After everything I’ve done to show you the opposite.” You pause, still unable to look at Jimin, unable to see what he must be thinking. “I didn’t know he would accept it,” you mutter, voice once again thick. “I set up the option for him to work with the police, but I didn’t think he’d actually take it.”

You push away from the wall and as you walk away Jimin doesn’t try to stop you. His head twists to look back out across the city, his body slumping a little deeper into the wall as you turn to walk back to the flat.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/cishet female reader explicitly over 50.

Tags/warnings: This takes place after season 1 but nothing bad happens, everybody's fine, Ellie and Joel are cool. Teasing, Joel is a soft sub/switch, Joel and reader have aches and pains, vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction mention, cunnilingus, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, Joel is a master of vaginal health.

Summary: You and Joel may be middle-aged and sex may be something of a challenge sometimes, but all good things come to the ones who wait.

Words: 4,768

My masterlist

”I hate that fuckin’ rooster.”

You agree with Joel’s throaty mutter as you blink your eyes open against the first light of day. It’s nice and warm underneath the covers, and Joel’s got his heavy, thick arm thrown over you, but just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, the obnoxious cock-a-doodle-doo from next door rouses you enough to fully open your eyes.

”It’s effective, though,” you yawn before stretching until several joints pop. Joel only grunts, sprawled out on his belly, face buried deep in the embrace of the pillow, arm around you. He’s not a morning person, and here in the safety of Jackson, he can afford the moments of laziness before taking on the day’s chores.

You turn towards him and press a quick kiss to his forehead before inching out of bed, Joel keeping his hand on you for as long as he can before you get up.

”Get back here,” he grumbles, but you just smile on your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you reemerge, Joel’s sitting up, feet planted on the floor, scratching his neck with one hand and his soft belly with the other.

”Leave any hot water for me?”

”Don’t I always?” You give him a playful little slap on his ass when he gets up and drags his feet past you to the bathroom. He glares at you, but you’re already on your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee lies strong when Joel comes out of the shower, a towel around his hips. He putters around the bedroom, picking up his clothes from yesterday, turning inside out and then back again, sniffing the armpits, discarding something to the laundry basket, deciding something else is okay to wear. You watch him quietly through the open door, thinking how very normal and domestic this is. How long it took you to reach this. How lucky you are to have Joel.

He arrived in Jackson with the girl barely a year after you. You had settled quickly, he took his time. He was difficult to approach, and he mostly spent time with Ellie and his brother. You worked a lot with Ellie, taking care of the sheep, and once she seemed to decided that you were trustworthy, she started to open up a little about what she and Joel had been through. At Maria and Tommy’s place, you had seen the little memorial to Maria’s kid, and Joel’s.

You didn’t have a plaque like that yourself, for which you were thankful. Had the outbreak not happened, who knows, maybe you would’ve had a family. As it was, you and your boyfriend got separated two days into the catastrophe, and you never saw him again. Since then, you had focused on survival. Sure, there had been comfort sex, a couple of times. It was never good, but it had provided escape, if only for a moment.

It was different with Joel. When you started hanging out with him, sex was the last thing on your mind. You had accepted that you’d probably go without for the rest of your life, and you were okay with that. You barely even masturbated: it took too long for you to get off, it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. Then Joel came along, and you found that your interest in sex awoke again when he kissed you the first time.

Turns out, you were both old enough and damaged enough to find sex difficult. Joel’s knees are bad, your back is shot. Even without those problems, your first time sleeping with each other had been such an embarrassing experience that the only thing that kept you from never looking at each other again was exactly the thing that caused your complications: your age. You had been able to laugh about it, what little there is to laugh about vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction, and then talk about it. Because lube and Viagra were luxuries of the past, you just had to make it work on your own. You may not enjoy sexual penetration as often as you’d like, but you had a good life together, you and Joel, better than you thought was possible, considering the circumstances.

Joel’s cute little ass disappears into a pair of boxers, and he pulls on a t-shirt. You feel something stir inside of you, and you put down your coffee mug, instead going straight to the bedroom to embrace Joel from behind. Hugging him tightly, you inhale the scent of clean man, and sawdust from his t-shirt.

”I love you,” you tell him quietly. Joel finds your hands on your chest, and take them into his own. His big, strong, capable hands that have hurt and killed countless people but are now callused from building futures for the community.

”I love you too, darlin’.” His voice is still raspy but there’s no mistaking the sincerety. When he turns around in your arms and faces you, you see a soft smile on his lips.

”Hi.”

”Hi,” you reply with a similar smile before leaning in and nipping at his lips. The taste of mint lingers on his lips: he brushed his teeth before breakfast, like he always does. You sometimes wonder about these small things: what in his early life made him take to this habit? To you, brushing your teeth before coffee makes no sense. Joel doesn’t seem to reflect on it, and you don’t bring it up, because it doesn’t really bother you.

His lips are soft, and they part willingly when your coffee-soaked tongue gently prods in-between them. You slowly move your hands over his back, then down to his ass, and his hands mirror the flow of yours. The kiss deepens, as does the tingling sensation in your core.

You break the kiss just as Joel lifts his hand to the back of our neck to bring you in closer. Stepping back, you throw him a teasing smile.

”Plenty more where that came from later tonight, cowboy,” you tell him, and Joel chuckles.

”Is it gonna be like that, huh?”

”You’re damn right it is.”

You return to the kitchen and finish your coffee. It’s time to go milk the goats.

///

You don’t see Joel again until lunch, which is taken in the communal dining hall. You and Ellie have been tending to the animals and arrive to eat together, finding Joel already inhaling the food on the plate in front of him. You set your tray down across the table from him, and Ellie takes the seat next to you. As you sit down, he throws you a warm smile.

”How’s your morning been?” you ask. He stuffs his mouth and nods, humming approvingly. You taste the soup, finding it heavenly, and tear a piece of the breadroll to dip into the bowl.

As you, Joel, and Ellie enjoy small talk, the tip of your boot touches Joel’s considerably larger footwear and moves up his ankle and calf. You haven’t played foosie since you were twenty or something, and doing it in boots isn’t maybe as arousing as slipping you bare foot between his thighs, but you do your best. When Joel realizes what you’re doing, he falls quiet and stares intently at you while chewing.

”Hey, are you even listening?” Ellie demands his attention, and without breaking eye contact with you, he nods.

”Sure.”

Ellie looks from him to you and shakes her head. ”Whatever, man.”

He gathers the rest of his soup broth on a piece of bread and pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. A drop of brown broth gets stuck on his lower lip, and you lean over the table to wipe it away with you thumb. Your heart is beating fast, and when you sit back down and put your thumb in your mouth, you see his nostrils flare.

”Gross,” Ellie mutters, takes her tray with her now empty bowl, and gets up. ”Get a room, you two.”

”Sorry,” you shoot after her, your eyes not leaving Joel’s.

”No, you’re not.”

When you’ve finished up as well, and have left the dining-hall, Joel pulls you in behind the building. Pressing you gently against the fragrant timber wall, he covers your mouth with his.

”You make me weak at the knees, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You taste the same garlic on him that you know is on your breath.

”You mean weaker than they already are?” you smirk, and Joel punishes you for your jab at his bad knees with a little bite of your lower lip.

”Bad, bad girl...”

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like a teenager, enjoying the rather tame excitement of making out in a place where you could be seen, but nobody would care. The community is loving enough not to give a damn if two consenting adults are kissing each other in the middle of the day.

When you finally part swollen lips, both panting and like jelly in each other’s arms, Joel leans his forehead to yours.

”You wet?”

”You know I am.”

He places a little kiss on the tip of your nose. ”Hold that thought ’til tonight.”

”What do you think I was doing?”

He chuckles, warm eyes soft as he looks at you.

”I gotta go back to work.”

”Yeah, me too,” you nod, and both of you start a slow, unwilling detangle from each other.

”Don’t work too hard,” you tell him before parting. ”You’ll need your strength tonight.”

///

A few hours later, you take a break from your own work, and take some coffee and snacks to the building site Joel is on, along with a few other men. You stand for a while and admire the confidence with which he, board by board, erects a home for someone else. When he takes a step back to inspect his work, you step forward. His critical gaze turns soft the second he sees you.

”Time for a break?” you suggest, holding up the basket. He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns his broad frame towards you.

”You’re really butterin’ me up today, aren’t you?”

”Tryin’ my best.”

You put one arm around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

”I missed you,” you murmur into his good ear as he slides his hands over your waist. ”Missed your hands, your mouth...”

”Baby...” he breathes, but then his head jerks up as his fellow builders show up.

”We interrupting something?” Charlie grins.

”Yes,” Joel deadpans, but you turn around to face the men unphazed.

”I brought coffee and cookies.”

”Much obliged, ma’am,” Sam nods, and you hand him the basket. Hand on Joel’s back, you steer him after the men. Knowing how hard he works every day, you’re keen on him taking a break. Soon, all of you are sitting on the porch steps, drinking coffee and eating butter cookies. The men are talking about this and that, and you have found a knot in Joel’s shoulder and are carefully working it open. He doesn’t say much, but you can see from the relaxed line of his jaw and smooth forehead that he’s enjoying himself. When the men are getting ready to go back to work, you lean into Joel and whisper:

”You like my hands on you, don’t you?”

He exhales audibly, eyes flickering to your face after a quick glance at the men. His eyes under the eternally knitted brows are smoldering, and they set off the pull in your core.

"You're gonna make me take a long break, sweetheart," he tells you in a low voice. "Take you home and bed ya."

"In the middle of the afternoon, Mr Miller?" you grin, and close your eyes when he leans closer to nuzzle your neck. His bristles scratch the sensitive skin, and you shudder.

"Like we had no responsibilities at all in the world..."

He doesn't take you home and bed you, of course, but goes back to work after a kiss and another look that just about consumes you. You return to your own chores with a damness in your panties.

///

"Are you two gonna be gross again?"

You laugh at Ellie's question as she stands by the table holding her tray. Joel, who is next to you, keeps his dignity.

"Most probably."

She takes the risk, though, and sits down with you. Tommy and Maria join you as well, Tommy carrying their one-year-old Samuel. You all enjoy dinner and the conversation, Joel's hand only sporadically rests high up on your thigh, hidden by the table. After you've eaten, you take a moment outside the dining hall, talking and laughing until Samuel grows fussy and needs to be put to bed. Maria and Tommy excuses themselves, Tommy asking his brother if he's up for a drink later on.

"Nah, long day," Joel shakes his head, as his hand slowly moves from your lower back to your ass. "Early night for me."

Tommy and Maria wish you all a good night before walking away, and Joel's hand finds the back pocket of your jeans, sliding in and cupping your ass. You smile at him and put your arm around him, cupping his flat ass with your hand inside his back pocket.

Ellie looks from you to Joel, and shakes her head.

"You're not 14 years old," she grimaces.

"Neither are you," Joel reminds her, "so act your age, and deal with it."

"You telling me to act my age?"

"Whatever." The discussion is over for Joel's part. "We're callin' it a night."

"Good. I'm going to see a movie, and I don't want you two kissing in front of me."

"Good night, Ellie," you smile at her, knowing that Ellie's just ragging on you out of love. When you turn around and start to walk home, she calls out a Good night, and you hear the affection in her voice.

"Messing with teenagers is fun," you giggle, and Joel pats your ass.

"They're easy to upset," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But I don't wanna talk about Ellie anymore."

As soon as you get home to your little house, he pushes you up against the door, chasing your lips.

"Been thinkin' about this all day..."

You'd reply something sassy, but he has your mouth covered with his, tongue plunging in greedily, and you put your hands on his cheeks and slide your fingers through his hair, tugging at it at the back of his neck. He crowds you with a gentle urgency against the door, kisses the breath out of you, his own hot breath disappearing into you. His facial hair scratches and burns the skin around your mouth before long, and you savour that burn.

His lips are swollen with kisses by the time they leave yours, and he cups your cheek and strokes his thumb over it as he looks into your eyes, like he's trying to remember the shape and color of them. You smile, making him smile as well, and then you put your hands on his shoulders and start to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.

You turn on the bedside lamp for soft light. Joel tries to unbutton your plaid, but you shake your head and catch his wrists in your hands.

"Let me, baby."

Exhaling deeply, Joel lets his arms hang down and watches you as you start to pop open the buttons of his denim shirt. When you lean in to caress it off his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a kiss that you let bleed onto his cheek when your lips continue their soft brushing along his jawline. You sneak your hands underneath his t-shirt, caress the soft swell of his stomach before running your fingers up his sides. Joel nods his head down so that you can take the shirt off, and as soon as his head is free from the garment, you press your lips to his again. It's more playful now, the way you fondle different parts of his naked upper body and pour your smiles into the kisses, and he smiles back and tries to cop a feel of you.

"You in a hurry there, cowboy?" you tease him between the kisses, and Joel hisses softly when you pinch his nipple.

"Just want you so badly."

"I know, I want you too..."

You unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and underwear, ghosting your hand over his still soft cock. He doesn't want too much attention to it, that only stresses him if he can't get it up, so you go back to kissing him while squeezing his ass.

"I should be doin' that t'you," he grunts between kisses.

"But now I'm doin' it to you..."

He ends up sitting on the bed, and you untie his shoelaces and take his boots off, then pull his pants off. You then push him down on the bed, take a step back, and start to slowly unbutton your shirt.

Joel sighs deeply.

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

"It is," you acknowledge with a smile. It's not going to be a sexy You can leave your hat on striptease, you're too old and jaded for that, but you're going to get undressed in your own time, and Joel can only watch.

And he does watch. He watches your every single move, mouth open and eyes slightly glassy. Each revealed inch of skin is noted, and by the time you're taking your panties off, you can see that he's getting hard. He doesn't like too much attention on his cock before he's fully hard, it stresses him, so you keep eye contact, and crawl into bed. You straddle his hips, settling your warm, dripping core over him.

Joel groans and his hands come to a rest on your thighs.

"Darlin'..."

You put your hands over his and make him squeeze your flesh.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Want nothin' else."

"You can, but I get to choose where."

You have to smile at his frown. Joel doesn't appreciate not being in control. His love for you and trust in your capability to make him feel good makes him accept your terms, though.

You guide his hands up your sides and under your breasts. Having passed the age of 50, you're secretly thankful you didn't have to age in a world of glossy magazines telling you the various ways in which your body is wrong. You don't have to compare yourself to lingerie models or the neighbor's young hot wife, who has a better job and tighter tits than you. You are alive, you are doing your part in Jackson, you are valued, and you are loved. Sagging tits and excess fat mean nothing, especially to Joel.

You let him cover your tits for a second before moving his hands to your hips, and his subsequent whine of frustration almost makes you feel sorry for him. You lead his hands back to your chest and let him fill his hands with your tits as you bend down to kiss him. A muscle in your back twinges, making you hiss.

"Babe?" Joel is immediately concerned.

"My back," you hurry to reassure him, "it's fine, I'm good."

"We could switch," he offers, "before you hips start to act up too."

You're already feeling a strain in your hips from sitting astride him. Getting older sucks.

"And what would you do to me if I agreed?" you smile sweetly, feeling his dick twitch underneath you.

"Treat you right," he replies a little inelegantly. Joel's not good at the talking bit, but he tries.

"Yeah?" you prompt him softly, touching your lips to his. "How?"

"I'd eat that pretty pussy of yours..."

You clench around emptiness. "Yeah...?"

He kisses you softly as he bends one knee, lifts his hip, and very gently slides you off of him. You rearrange yourselves, intertwining arms and legs as he rolls onto his side, facing you, and your lips meet again. You can feel your pulse in your core by now, a long day of anticipation finally catching up with you.

"Will you let me?" Joel now breathes against your lips, and you hum your approval. He immediately gets up on one elbow and starts to kiss his way down your body, pausing around your breasts to gently fondle and bite.

"Pretty," he murmurs, mouth full of soft flesh, sending heated tingles through your body and making your pussy clench. You thread your fingers through his hair until he takes your hand and holds it down on the bed. When he finally has had enough and moves down to the apex of your thighs, his breath on your folds alone makes you chew your lower lip.

"God, Joel..."

"Like it when you sound like that," he lets you know, his arm sliding around your thigh. "Now, just lay back and take what I have to give you, darlin'..."

The first lick melts you immediately, the second stokes the fire within. When you're fisting your hands into the sheet underneath you and moaning his name, he slides two fingers inside your dripping pussy. Your hips twitch at the intrusion, and he soothes you with broad, slow laps of his tongue at your clit, his fingers crooking to touch you just right.

"Joel..." you keen, "yes, there, please..."

He massages that spongy spot inside you, slowly and steadily, knowing that he can't rush this if he wants you to orgasm. It's difficult for you, maybe from the many years of living in fear, maybe from the same amount of years of no sex, sex drive, or romance. When you and Joel started exploring sex together, you were astonished by how horny you could be for another person while simultaneously finding the mechanics of sex so difficult. It surely hadn't been this complicated twenty years ago.

But both you and Joel were adamant to make it work, and that's what he's doing now. Your mouth is dry from panting, your thigh muscles are tensing up, your mind is going blank as you let his ministrations take you higher and higher. Painfully near the final soar, your hands clamber for Joel's at your hips, finding them and holding on tightly as you let go, your legs stiff as a board as your hips jut up, your thighs pushing shut, Joel's scruff suddenly too much on your sensitive skin. Your blood rushes and you let out a long, moaned sigh as your legs tremble before relaxation floods your muscles. Joel places one final, soft kiss on your clit before dragging his lips over your thighs, up your hip and over your stomach where his tongue dips into your navel. You hum, almost purr from his care, and when your eyes blink open, you find him smiling up at you.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. You release one hand from his and pass your fingers through his hair, then cup his cheek. He turns his face a little so that he can kiss the palm of your hand.

"Perfect," he whispers against your skin before your hand sneaks behind his head, and you pull gently to beckon him up, to you, to your lips.

His lips are covered in your slick and you lick at them, suck his full lower lip into your mouth, let your hands get lost roaming his broad shoulders. His cock is heavy and stiff against you, and you feel a surge of yearning within your core. The day of teasing, the foreplay, his service to you worked as it should: he's fully erect, stiff as a board, and it's so sexy that you think you're going to go crazy just from thinking about it.

"I need you," you whimper, pulling him down over you as you spread your legs to accomodate him. "Joel, I need you inside me."

"Can you take me?" he asks hoarsely, fingers running down your body to your weeping sex.

"Won't know for sure unless we try," you manage to quip, and he grins at you before pressing his lips against yours again. Kissing you deeply, he nocks his cock at your slick lips, rubs the head against your clit, then starts to push it in. The kiss is filled with moans, yours and his mingling with tongues, and despite your wetness, he's a lot to take. Still, you encourage him to fill you completely, your arms around him hugging him in, in, all the way in until he bottoms out, and stills. He breaks the kiss and draws back to gaze into your eyes. You smile, blissfully full.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay, you feel so good," you reassure him, words coming out breathlessly. Joel groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Darlin', you're killing me..."

He starts to slowly move his thick cock inside your embrace, lips open against your shoulder, teeth scraping without biting. You answer by wrapping your legs around him, left hip protesting a little but you don't care, you need him deep inside, need to feel that tight drag, need him to understand just how good it feels when he loves you like this.

"Harder," you beg, "take me harder, Joel, I want to feel all of your big cock."

He moans at that, his hot breath burning your skin.

"Can you take it?"

"I can take it."

He thrusts hard into you then, making you catch your lower lip between your teeth, your chin rising and one arm coming loose from him to brace yourself on the headboard.

"That hard, huh?" he smirks with his lips against your ear, and you chuckle breathlessly until he starts to fuck the smile off your face. Shifting his weight, he reaches for your hand braced against the headboard, and you let go to instead clasp his hand as he continues to steadily chase his release with one deep thrust after another.

"So good, darlin'," he gasps, "you're so good to me, fuck, I wanted to do this to you all day, wanted to bury myself in your warm pussy..."

You're all his when he talks to you like this. Joel finds the words when he's drunk on you, not before. Grinding into you with purpose, he keeps moaning out filth like this into your ear until his breathing becomes too laborous and his movements too  irregular.

"Come," you beckon him as he crashes his mouth to yours to swallow your words, "come, baby, come, I want you to come."

His moan when he empties himself deep inside of you is a helpless sound of surrender. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, forcing him to lay all of his weight on you. His quick heartbeats echo against your own ribcage, but slow down as his breaths become deeper and more controlled. You stroke his hair, thinking briefly how extraordinarily lucky you are. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you rouse him from his rest.

"Go piss," he murmurs, and you have to laugh softly.

"Is that the first thing you tell me after sex?" you tease him. His lips quirk before he presses them to your cheek.

"I love you. Now go piss."

"You're on top of me, Miller."

"Hasn't stopped you from knocking me on my ass before..."

He does, however, roll over, freeing you up to find your bearings and get out of bed. After having used the bathroom, you return to bed where Joel is waiting for you underneath the covers. You turn off the bedside lamp and join him, letting him gather you into his arms and sighing deeply once the two of you are settled.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

"M-hmm," you yawn, nuzzling his neck. "Sleepy."

"Me too."

Silence descends along with the darkness, and you're almost asleep when Joel speaks again.

"Hey?"

You murmur to let him know you're listening - just barely.

"I'm still standing."

You murmur again, not understanding. Joel takes your hand and leads it to his crotch, closing your fingers around his thick, sticky shaft. That makes you open your eyes.

"Oh..."

"You did that," he groans when you start to rub him slowly.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you did. All that waiting all day..." He moans when you drag your thumb over the head. "Baby, can you...?"

You smile at the wonder and anticipation in his voice. Twice in one night has happened before, but never this soon, never like this. You grow wet and heavy in an instant. To hell with sleep deprivation and sore joints.

"I can."