#gone boy fic updates

[comatosecringedotcom]

WE’RE BACK !!

CHAPTER 5 IS HERE!!

TAGLIST (ask to be added!) : @annabelle-creart

rb for spread <3 /nf

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird��� or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[revasserium]

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

[pseudowho]

(MASTERLIST DISCONTINUED- PLEASE SEE PINNED POST ON MY BLOG FOR NEW RESTRUCTURED MASTERLIST!)

Pseudowho's Original JJK Masterlist

Scroll through to see...

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Suguru Geto

Choso Kamo

Aoi Todo

JJK multi-character fics

Nanami Kento Masterlist

Updated: 28th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.

"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.

Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.

Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.

Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.

Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.

Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.

Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.

Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...

Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble

Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.

Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.

Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.

Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.

"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.

Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕

(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Chapter Three: Deadly Games

Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Chapter Six: Exposed

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Chapter Eight: Unchained

In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?

Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.

And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.

Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.

Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.

Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses

- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.

Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!

Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.

A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.

Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.

Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.

Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour

Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.

Red 🔥💔-- Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse-user, has been on the run for years...what will you do when he catches up to you?

Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader

Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.

Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?

Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.

The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue

The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.

Why I love Nanami Kento

Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕

And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.

Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist

Updated: 6th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader

Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome

Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.

Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.

Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.

Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕

In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.

"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.

Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.

Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.

Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?

Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma

Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.

The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.

Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.

The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.

"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.

Suguru Geto Masterlist

Updated: 23rd February 2024

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Deadly Nightshade 🐙🔥💕-- a Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Kamo Choso Masterlist

Updated: 28th December 2023

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm stuck!' on a mission together, and virgin Choso is offered the opportunity of a lifetime.

Snowhere to Go ☕💕-- When your date plans are foiled by the snow, you and Choso make your own fun with a stack of old board games.

Aoi Todo Masterlist

Updated: 27th January 2024

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Act of the Soul 🔥-- Aoi Todo uses his Boogie Boogie on the reader during sex.

JJK's Multi-Character Masterlist

Updated: 31st March 2024

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Being gross in long-term comfortable relationships ☕💕-- with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Yuuta, Maki, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji and Ino

"Cumfaces" Ask and Drabble 🤡

Defending Your Honour ☕💕-- the JJK boys are sick of the creeps and perverts who harass our dear reader.

Nanami, Todo and Geto

Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji

Gojo, Megumi and Nobara, Inumaki and Toji

Firemen 💔☕💕-- the JJK Crew rescue the Reader, and fall in love at the same time.

Nanami and Higuruma Aesthetics: ☕ 'Besto Friendos' dichotomies

Neat Suit/Messy Suit

Cold Anger/Hot Anger

"Stay down!" Fighter/"Get Up!" Fighter

City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics

IKEA Flat-pack Aesthetics

How They Ejaculate 🔥📚-- a physiological ejaculation study of Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Higuruma and TrueForm!Sukuna

Penis Synonym Smutfics 🤡🔥 -- with Nanami Kento, Hiromi Higuruma, Takuma Ino, Gojo Satoru and Inumaki Toge

Penpals (a Panda fic) 🐼☕-- he didn't mean to Catfish you. Honestly.

Shower Mat 🔥💕-- the reader buys an 'old lady shower mat'...that makes shower shenanigans suddenly possible.

Takuma Ino as a Young Dad ☕💕-- when Takuma unexpectedly becomes a father...

The Rebounds 🔥💕-- Yuuta and Maki show you the date of your life, after you're dumped

They Find You Wearing This...Unsexy Monstrosity 🤡 -- with Itadori Yuuji, Satoru Gojo, Higuruma, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami and Suguru

[bangtanshelves]

JJK Fanfic Recos

Hi. These are some of the fanfics I've read.

I've read A LOT but I'll only be including the ones I really enjoyed reading.

I'm in the process of recollecting them, please bare with me.

I'm also updating this post often, so whenever I end finishing a fic I like I just post it here. hehe

💓 - Fluff ❤‍🩹 - angst 🥵 - smut 🚨 - violence/drugs 🤪 - crack ⭐ - fav 🎣 - latest addition to the list

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. SERIES ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

My Love is Here - @/solemnreads

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (so much angst, I love it), 🥵 summary: "You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened."

Knife's Edge - @/readyplayerhobi

Completed ✅

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵, 🚨 The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

Four Seven Eight - @/jiminrings

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (fic made me cry) ,🥵 you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Close to you - @/muniimyg

Completed ✅ ⭐

genre: 💓, 🤪 It should've been easier than this, right?In which oc and Jungkook sleep together and he can't get over it.

Falling Skies - @/fortunexkookie

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. Once upon a time, she had called you her sun and him her moon; it was fitting, given the constant push-and-pull between you two. You used to consider him a friend, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Please Love Me - @/ahunderedtimesover

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Lowkey - @/xpeachesncream

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 In order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, Jeon Jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the way of dating.

Hotter Than Hell - @/chateautae

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Jungkook, Lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he's unsure of. Embarking on his journey for the answers should've been easy, if it weren't for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. Kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover Lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and Jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

An Ode to a Broken Heart - @/smoochkooks

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (bro I've been crying over this fic for days), 🥵 (future smut)  you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

Mutual Help - @/personasintro

Ongoing... ✍ (this is also posted on AO3)

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 (damn... that's all i can say)  in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

Way Back Home - @/solemnreads

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (please i really love angsty fics, fite me), 🥵

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. You look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. You look into his eyes, broken, and sad. You've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. But here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "Yes... they're your children."

Strawberry Kisses - @/pixieknj

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 (Chapter 1 has been posted, but its something else) Jungkook is notoriously known as a f^ckboy who doesn’t eat p^ssy, until he finally gets alone with you…

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. ONE-SHOTS or TWO-SHOTS ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

The Right Choice - @/honeytae

Genre: 💓 for as long as you've known Jungkook, you would think that you're witnessed all sides of him. But when you notice the way he's looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

Rainy Days - @/rklve

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Your life choices left not only yours, but Jungkook's hear broken in pieces. Now you're back in town, and just like Pluto, even if its cold and dark he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

High Demand - @/bunnyhugs77

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🚨 A modern day Romeo and Juliet

SOJU - @/hoseoksluna

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

Lost & Found - @/kooktrash

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (if you squint), 🥵 your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

Bottle Up Old Love - @/wintaerbaer

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

Pink Sapphire - @/jiminrings ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹(please I'm a sucker for this) ,🥵 Having Jungkook as a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. Your relationship's perhaps become so easy that Jungkook doesn't think sometimes— and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

Will it fit? - @/jeonsweetpea

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🤪, ❤‍🩹 (just a little bit) So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can't exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom...

Break up with your Boyfriend - @/spideyjimin

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook, the campus fuckboy, has decided to make you his next victim, but you're far from being like any of his previous hookups. You're not single. You're actually in a very long-term relationship with Baekhyun, the man you consider the love of you life, but it's for sure something that won't stop Jungkook. He wants you, and he's going to do absolutely everything to have you, even falling in love.

Paint me naked - @/gimmethatagustd

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he's not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

I hate you, I love you - @j/ungblue 🎣

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and you're absolutely in love with him; he's in love too—just not with you.

How to Get a Guy - @/taeshobipop 🎣

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He's loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you're absolutely bizarre. But there's a silver lining— Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he'll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungook can continue persuing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to tbe the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

[starboye]

movies

(fics ive made)

*updated regularly

smut = ★

angst = 🏹

fluff = 🍥

Rafe Cameron-

First Timer★

Dealer!Rafe Cameron★

The Cameron Boys★

A Night to Remember★

Please be Mine★

Satisfaction★

Sleepy Convos★

Risky Call★

Morning Rafey★

Jj Maybank-

Yard Worker!Jj Maybank★

Double Team★

Nate Jacobs-

jealousy, jealousy★🏹

brat★

A Feeling Unknown🍥

My Cum Toy★

Nick Nelson-

Cheater★🏹

Cheater pt2★🏹

Cheater pt3★🏹

Cheater pt4🏹

Charlie Bushnell-

Fair Date★🍥

Vinnie Hacker-

Streamer Head★

Drunk Fun★

Sly Boy★

Birthday Present★

Bryce McKenzie-

Addicted★

Kj Apa-

Model★

Breed Me★

Free Use★

Baby By Me★

Matt Sturniolo-

Beach Day🍥

Morning Horny★

Quickie★

Movie Night Teaser★

My Nerdy Boy★

First Time★

Harry Collett-

Video game Lover★

Charles Leclerc-

Need Love★

Chris Sturniolo-

Gamer🍥

Movie Night Gone Right★

You're Mine★

Overstimulation★

Stream Tease★

David Corenswet-

Daddy's Boy★

Manu Rios-

Work For It★

Harry Styles-

Make Up or Make Out★🍥

Ross Lynch-

Double Trouble★

Dylan Minnette-

Double Trouble★

Shower Time★

Steve Rogers-

First Date★🍥

The Boys-

Table Talk★

Drew Starkey-

Hot Jealousy★

An Award of my Own★

Your Brothers Best Friend★

Nico Greetham-

Sweaty Love★

Noah Beck-

Rough Love★

Chris Hemsworth-

My Boy★

John B-

Double Team★

Prince Henry-

My Good Side🍥

Ryan Reynolds-

Tease★

Brady Hepner-

Wild Side★

My Use★

Sam Golbach-

Newly Weds★🍥

Colby Brock-

Newly Weds★🍥

Tanner Buchanan-

Edged★

Chris Evans-

Lesson Learned★

Ryan Garcia-

Breakfast in Bed★

Ethan Landry-

Ghost 🏹

Eijiro Kirishima-

Gamer Fuel★

Katsuki Bakugo-

Gamer Fuel★

Jacob Elordi-

Free Use★

Jack Harlow-

A Want★

Scott Summers-

Time Fucked★

Stiles Stilinski-

A Dream Cum True★

Richard Madden-

Work Pet★

Steve Harrington-

Gay For You★

Hughie Campbell-

Shy Boy★

Bellamy Blake-

Supply Collectors★

Jensen Ackles-

Hard Worker★

Prince Ben-

New Kid★🍥

Harry Hook-

New Kid★🍥

Rudy Pankow-

My First Time★🍥

Simon "Ghost" Riley-

Bf Headcanons★🍥

Phone Sex★

A Gift★

Captain Price-

Bratty★

Chace Crawford-

Co-Star Fun★

Bill Skarsgard-

Affair★

Dick Grayson-

Wounds★🏹

Robby Keene-

Winner Winner★

Noah Centineo-

Bed Breaker★

Jake Gyllenhaal-

Spiderman Far From Done★

Tom Holland-

Spider Man Far From Done★

Wolverine-

Fucked Senseless★

Hole Used★

Deadpool-

Hole Used★

Joe Goldberg-

My Husband🏹

Lip Gallagher-

New Feeling🍥

Rome Flynn-

My Bitch★

Joe Burrow-

Letting Off Some Steam★

Charles Melton-

Gym Bros★

[gojobbg]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.5

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH sorry for the late update! work and school are beating me up! thank you all for your patience and kindness-- your compliments for this fic have been lifting my mood! i have added (i think) everyone who has asked to be added. i will be closing the taglist as its getting quite large.

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Monday

The moment you entered the office, relief washed over you as the intense heat from the vents warmed your body. 

The weather was unkind during the winter in Japan, proving its rudeness by coating you completely in snow. A handful of your coworkers brushed the snow off of you as you passed by them. With rosy cold cheeks and heavy breaths, you get settled into your desk and shake your legs in an attempt to get warm. As you brought your hands up to your mouth to breathe warm air, you looked to your right to see Nanami’s desk. 

It felt barren, despite only a few folders and documents missing. His computer was still there, but he was likely using his laptop for the day instead. A few pens were picked out of his holder/cup, along with his notebook in the small cabinet that hung beneath his desk. His favorite mug was gone as well. It almost felt like Nanami was never there. 

Coffee. You reluctantly left your seat, and began walking over to the cafe. You continue to blow warm air into your hands, walking haggardly over to get Nanami’s usual coffee, and a hot chocolate for yourself. After the short line, you walk up to the cashier, getting kindly greeted with a curt bow. 

“Ah– good morning,” you say quickly, ushering for her to stand straight once more. “How is everyone today?” You eye over at the rest of the baristas and chefs within the space of their cafe. The cafe was round and large enough to allow the cafe team to walk around one another. There were cashiers all around the circle of the cafe, allowing them to tend to more staff easier.  

A sea of ‘good morning!’ and ‘good’ responses follow your question. You smile, “I’m glad to hear it. Is Tae in by any chance?” 

The manager of the cafe quickly rushes out to greet you, “ah, Y/L/N, good morning! How was your weekend?” Your question gets lost in the chit chatter. 

After a brief exchange of weekend plans, you look around the cafe staff. “Is Tae in today?” 

“He is,” the manager began, her voice soft, “he’s in the back preparing the coffee for Nanami kacho.” 

You tilted your head, “I… didn’t even order yet. Surely he must be psychic.” 

The manager chuckles, “if only. He’s such a peach, Y/L/N– that boy immediately got to work the moment he stepped into the cafe.” 

“I’m surprised he isn’t nervous,” you began curiously, “today is his first day.”

“You guys hired right when it came to this boy,” the manager praised, “it has yet to be an hour and he already cleaned and set up his own station. He made sure to be quick so he could ask for this time to prepare your boss’ cup of coffee.” 

You were really glad that he was acclimating well. Although you always had trust within the cafe team that they would help him assimilate, it was also good to see he was taking initiative on his own. And, since you helped him get hired, it only felt right to check in and make sure he was starting off well. 

“Did you want your usual as well?” The cashier chimed. 

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “it’s way too cold for an iced coffee. But, I’d love a hot chocolate if possible.” 

“Anything for you,” the cashier insisted, informing another barista about your order. Although the cafe was technically free for the office as the entire cafe staff was salaried, you still left a good tip in their tip jar. “Y/N, you always do this! You know you don’t have to.” 

“Do what?” You feigned confusion, amusing the cashier as she thanked you for your constant kindness. You turn to the manager, “if you can spare Tae for a few minutes, I’d like to bring him over to meet Nanami personally.” 

“Is that allowed?” The manager quickly questions. She was right to be careful. Only the Finance team is allowed in the department. Other departments and outsiders can only enter upon invitation, unless they are heads or leaders of other departments. 

You nod, “I invited him, so don’t worry. Plus, my boss’ office is just to the side there, so we won’t go through any of the offices at all.” 

The manager quickly nods, “then he’s all yours. Tae, please come out with the drinks once they are ready.” 

In minutes, the young barista comes out, two cups in his hand. It was surprising to see him without his usual uniform, as he no longer works for the cafe that you poached him from. He was comfortable in a black crew neck and joggers. His eyes were emerald green, and he had a slit cut in his left eyebrow. His lack of uniform hat also allowed you to notice his shaggy chestnut hair. Particularly, he had a small braid dangling from the back left side of his hair.

He was suddenly flush when meeting your eyes, giving you a curt bow in the midst of his nerves. “K-kacho,” he lets out firmly. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit. You move forward and pat his shoulder gently. 

“Tae, I’m not your higher up,” you begin quietly. “It has a ring to it, though. But, please feel free to call me by my name.” 

He stands up straight again, but tilts his head a bit, “are you sure?” 

You nod, “you won’t be disrespecting me, I promise.” 

Tae eyes you skeptically, but he gulps hesitantly, “Y/N…-san.” 

The cafe team swim in giggles and chuckles. You join them, grinning widely at the man, “close enough. I’ll be borrowing you for a few minutes if that’s alright with you.” 

“O-of course!” Tae quickly rushes to your side, smiling down at you eagerly. You didn’t quite realize how tall he was until he was beside you. You think he’s just about as tall as Nanami. What is up with these tall men? You huffed at the thought. 

You wave goodbye to the cafe team and walk towards Nanami’s office. You weren’t necessarily eager to see him, but you always got his cup of coffee no matter what. Even with your feelings in a rut, he was still the best boss you’ve been under. Although, if Shoko heard that, she’d throw quite the tantrum. She is the head of the Sales department, and you were under her before you were transferred to Finance. You were humored by your thoughts, which were quickly interrupted when Tae offered you a cup. 

“The hot chocolate you requested,” Tae hums with glee. 

“Ah, thank goodness,” you sigh in relief, taking the hot coffee from his hand. You wrap both hands around it, relishing in its warmth. You bring it up to your cheek, warming up part of your face. “It’s great, thank you so much.” 

Tae chuckles at you, “you haven’t even tried it.” 

“There was a reason my boss wanted to hire you,” you begin, putting the cup away from you before you burn yourself. “I have no doubt that this will be the most delicious hot chocolate I’ll ever have.” 

“You two… are extremely kind,” Tae hums quietly, “I don’t mean to be so sentimental, especially as we’re still just strangers, but taking this job feels like the best choice I’ve made in a while.” 

You smile warmly at him, “well, I’m glad! My boss really appreciates your craftsmanship and figured it would be best utilized here.” 

Tae smiles from the flattery, “is there only one cafe in this whole company?” 

“Oh goodness, no, this building and its staff is way too big for that,” you immediately point out, “there’s a cafe on every floor here. We weren’t hiring for another barista until my boss decided he wanted you in our department.” 

Tae looks over at you, a light pink hue on his cheeks, “is that so? There’s so many really good baritas in this city– I’m just some guy.” 

You shrug, “we’re all just some people. But of all the cups of coffee we’ve had, you make it the best.” 

“Well, I’m very grateful,” Tae hums, “everything about this place is so much better than my last job. I can finally do more.” 

You could feel your heart warm from his words. You could see the relief and calmness in his expression. Whenever you went to retrieve Nanami’s usual cup of joe, Tae would be practically muted as he would focus on his orders. But never within his business has he ever made a bad drink. 

“Well, thank you for making such delicious drinks,” you chime, “not to intimidate you, but the President of this company also works from this floor. So you will see him fairly often.”

“Ah well,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. You notice he pushes his little braid a bit. “I’ll do my best.” 

Before the two of you could continue, Haibara runs out from Nanami’s office. His usual lively eyes were hanging low, a hand covering his forehead in stress. His usual pulled down hair was up and pointed every which way. You could only imagine how many times he’s passed his fingers through his hair without fixing it back. You rush over to him, with Tae right behind you while still careful with Nanami’s coffee. 

“Haibara?” Worry escapes your tongue. “What’s wrong?” 

“Please tell me you have his coffee,” Haibara murmurs. He holds your shoulders, fear in his half-closed eyes. “Please tell me that’s why you’re here.” 

You nod, gesturing to Tae, “I had asked Tae, the barista he just hired, to come bring him his usual morning cup.” 

Haibara looks over at Tae, putting a hand out to shake it, “it’s very nice to meet you, thank you for your service.” You kindly take the cup of coffee from Tae’s hand and grin over at him. Tae could only smile back while Haibara shook his hand with purpose. 

“Is… Nanami okay?” You quickly ask, looking over at Nanami’s now closed door. 

Haibara lets go of Tae and shakes his head, “he’s over the edge. Takada shacho sent a few of his assistants to help out as we host our clients for the next few days. They’re lovely, but they don’t know Nanami…” 

Is that right… You let out a sigh. Whenever something doesn’t go Nanami’s way, he can become agitated beyond approach. But, it was a little annoying for him to pass off your help during this client visit, only to get assigned other assistants to help instead. “Did they not get him his usual coffee?” 

“Y/N, they don’t know what he usually gets,” Haibara points out. 

“Did he not tell them?” 

“He conveniently forgot how he likes it made.” 

Rolling your eyes, you turn over to Tae with a sympathetic smile, “I’m sorry, Tae. Let me introduce you to him another day. I wouldn’t want you to meet him during his… less ideal moments.”

Tae understood the situation well and curtly bowed to both you and Haibara, “I hope this coffee helps. It was nice to meet you, Haibara-kun, and thank you, Y/N-san.” You gave him silent gratitude when you lifted both drinks and nodded at his departure. Tae lingered his stare at you for a few more moments before going back to the cafe. 

“Is he the one that makes Nanami’s coffee?” Haibara hums curiously. 

“That is him, yes.” 

Haibara squints at Tae before he disappears from view. He looks back at you, noticing the confused expression on your face. He could tell you were curious about his question, and reaction, but Haibara was quick to bring back the topic at hand. “Please come into his office.” 

You kindly knock on the door, and receive an irritated response, “who is it?” 

“It’s Y/N,” you call from behind his door, “I have your cup of coffee.”

Immediately, the door opened, and Nanami rushed from his desk to meet you at the doorway. In the corners of your eyes, you could see the assistant standing at the sides of his office. They looked straight at one another, with hands attached in the front of their waists. 

But, Nanami’s relieved face distracts you from the suddenly filled office. Though he looked well kept and groomed, you could tell he was off. Exhaustion defined his eyes, those hazel orbs not being able to stand out from his sunken circles. A vein protrudes from his temple, almost beckoning for a headache to start. He smiles down at you, almost like you were the greatest thing to happen this morning. 

“Is that my…” he begins, his voice low and hoarse. 

You offer him the coffee, which he immediately takes a whiff before taking a desperate swig. In seconds, he practically gulps it down, both you and Haibara jumping from how bold he was. The coffee was piping hot still, despite it being done just a few minutes ago. A stream of coffee begins to go down the end of his lips, slowly making its way to his chiseled chin. 

As he finishes the cup, you fish out a napkin from your back pocket. You kindly take the finished cup of coffee in exchange for your napkin. He graciously takes it, patting his mouth dry with no trace of coffee to be seen. It was like magic, the way life returned to Nanami’s eyes and body. 

“Truly, what would I do without you, Y/N,” Nanami hums. Even his tone was more at ease. “Thank you very much for bringing me that cup, you really didn’t have to, considering what I asked of you during this time.” 

Peeking over his shoulder, you could see over 12 cups of coffee on his desk. Unknown to you, only a sip has been taken from all of them. “I’m still your assistant, even if I’m currently inactive. Besides, it’s already a habit that I get your morning coffee.” 

“Please, if you can,” he rushes back to his desk to come back with a notepad and a pen, “write down exactly what you ask for when you get my coffee. I’ll have the girls here memorize it so they can bring it for me from now on.” 

You look at him, hesitant about his words, “it’s only until Wednesday, no? There’s no need for them to memorize something that takes me only a few minutes to get for you.” 

“Speaking of, ladies,” he calls to them without leaving his gaze from you. “Can you fetch me the documents from the printer? They should have my name on it all– it’s 100 pages or so.” The assistants nod before walking past the both of you. You could swear they had malice in their intent when they grinned at you. “Anyhow, the reason I’d like for them to memorize it is only in the case that this might extend past the 3 days I set.” 

“Can I ask about that?” You gestured to the spots where the assistants just were. “You told me that I would not be needed for the next few days due to confidentiality reasons. But they’re here– why is that?” 

Nanami stayed quiet for a moment. While gathering his thoughts, you take a sip of the hot chocolate that Tae prepared for you. The delicatably, chocolatey drink greets your tongue kindly, the deliciously sweet taste enhanced by cinnamon and clove that was added. You smile subconsciously, content at its inviting taste and warmth. 

“Did you hear me, Y/N?” 

“A-ah, no, m’sorry!” You exclaim. Your admiration for the hot chocolate completely deafened you from Nanami’s explanation. Which was a first, considering you’d listen to Nanami talk your ear off about stocks and the ever changing currencies of different countries. “Please, repeat that.” 

“They are tenured assistants of Takada shacho,” Nanami says simply, “it is critical to have assistants that know how to host clients, ensuring our space is comfortable and catered to them. Which, speaking of.” He looks up at Haibara, “our clients should be here any minute– please head downstairs and meet with them.” 

“On it,” Haibara replies. Before he leaves, he subtly gives you a poke on your back, a weak attempt to ease you. 

You walk over to Nanami’s trash and toss the two cups away, silently collecting your thoughts. “So, what I’m understanding is I couldn’t be guided to do the same thing?” 

“It is your first year as my assistant, Y/N,” Nanami explains. “And these clients were sudden. There was no time to show you, nor did I want to bombard you with something like this.” 

“But I’m your assistant,” you urge, “it is my job to do what you need me to do.” 

“That’s right,” Nanami points out, “and what I need you to do is continue carrying out work independently under Haibara’s guidance. Do not worry about fetching me my morning coffee. Write down the order and I’ll end them the email.”

Reluctantly, you scribble down the order on a note and hand it to him. It’s not fair. You understood that he would be hosting these clients and wouldn’t be able to actively be your supervisor as his hands would be completely full. But to instead accept other assistants to do your work and beyond that was obscene. Sure, you weren't tenured, but there was a reason why you were transferred from Sales to Finance. There was a reason why you were praised so often. Nanami used to jokingly worry about you potentially being transferred to another department as he’s become comfortable with your work aptitude. 

But, in this moment, you try to remind yourself of Haibara’s words. Nanami never wanted a female assistant until you came along. You worked hard to prove yourself as someone dependable at this job, and that has yet to go wrong. And… you were sure Nanami wasn’t doing all of this because he didn’t believe in you. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, and that is a very considerate gesture. 

Right? 

“Understood,” you say sternly, “good luck with everything. I know everything is going to go well. I’ll take my leave now, Nanami kacho.” 

Once again, another unsettled stare from Nanami comes through. You turned around quickly to go back to your desk, but you felt a hand cup your shoulder. Turning around a bit, you widen your eyes to see Nanami right behind you. He quickly lets you go when you turn around to face him completely. His cheeks were lightly painted with hues of pink, hazel eyes frantically looking to not meet your own. 

“Y/N, before you go, I’d like to ask you about something.”

Before Nanami could continue his inquiry, he saw Haibara coming down the hallway from the elevators. Several men with suits followed right behind him, pitting nerves into Nanami’s stomach. You turn around to look as well, quickly making yourself disappear as you rush back to your desk. Nanami looks at your distant figure lamentably before looking towards his clients with a wide smile. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro

[planetpiastri]

pairing: logan sargeant x fem!reader [no faceclaim, reader is faceless] summary: when alex's childhood friend makes an appearance on his instagram, logan is instantly smitten, but the universe insists on keeping them only as a missed connection, and alex isn't helping matters. notes: the long awaited part three! i'm currently giving all my fics a facelift, but the guilt about this update has been eating away at me, so here you guys go<3 i've decided to stop living in denial and just admit this is a full series now so here comes the (brief) angst era! [series masterlist]

liked by lilymhe, georgerussell63, and 154,329 others

alex_albon winter break, you were fun 🫡 see you next year!

view all 2,876 comments

username1 try not to say parents challenge level impossible (failed)

lilymhe he stole that car

alex_albon you promised you wouldn't tell anyone!!

username2 looking good albono! excited to see you scoring points soon!

williamsracing Nice hat! :D

username3 guys can i confess something.... i miss yn :(

username4 you guys say this under all of his posts. obviously something happened and they don't post each other anymore for a reason, respect their space and stop bringing this up.

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 71,823 others

williamsracing the boys are back and so are we 👀

view all 3,012 comments

username5 RRRAAHHH I SMELL DOUBLE POINTS

username6 the new suits are AWESOME, the boys are gonna kill it this season!!!!!

alex_albon who approved that corny ass caption

logansargeant Me alex_albon i'm gonna steal your tires

username7 even if yn has vanished off the face of the earth at least we can thank her for bringing the williams boys closer together so that we get to see them goofing off in the comments 😔

username8 yeah but it's all for show like they don't hang out off track anymore... landonorris oh are we just saying things in the comments? i wanna join!! george sleeps with a teddy bear georgerussell63 Don't drag me into this wtf alex_albon it's true, he does

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 71,013 others

logansargeant Some bits and bobs from the break

view all 2,789 comments

username9 what kind of whack british caption is that

username10 maybe the rumors about him and alex not hanging out were wrong, maybe they're hanging out TOO MUCH actually...

alex_albon i have taught you well, young padawan

username11 omg logan and oscar content we're soooo back

williamsracing Looking energized, Sarge!

username12 the fact that we never got a hard launch for logan and yn so we'll never know if they actually got together is my roman empire

username13 no fr!! they were flirting and bantering all over the place and then suddenly BOOM! she just disappears like wtf happenedddd username14 you guys talking abt a possible situationship not happening vs twenty years of friendship between alex and yn that's gone... have some priorities username15 hi just popping in to say you guys are weird af for speculating like this under his winter break dump 💀 move tf on

logansargeant

liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 68,578 others

logansargeant Quick trip back over the pond before locking in 👊 bring it on season ✌️

view all 2,549 comments

username16 wait did we miss a step

alex_albon that does not look like sim work

logansargeant Are you my dad or something? Get a life alex_albon DAMN

username17 um? um?? the last picture??? um??????

georgerussell63 What

logansargeant Who? georgerussell63 ?? logansargeant Asked

username18 please be a soft launch with that girl from the afterparty please please please please please

oscarpiastri Interesting.

username19 OSCAR WHAT DO YOU KNOW

williamsracing

liked by ynusername, logansargeant, and 78,321 others

williamsracing Good times in Bahrain! See you next year, Sakhir 😉

view all 3,253 comments

username20 WHAT was that strategy guys

alex_albon "good times" literally where that was nothing but pain

williamsracing ☹️👉👈 we're sowwy awex alex_albon ew wtf don't say that to me

username21 guys? yn liked? she's alive?

username22 JUSTICE FOR LOGAN'S STEERING WHEEL

tagging: @sticksdoesart @hiireadstuff @minkyungseokie @thatoneembarrasingmoment @croissantbakerylws @dear-fifi @imjustme-n @kn1n3 @captainfrisbee @ssrcsm @rhythmstars @urfavnoirette

if you want to be tagged in future parts, fill out this form

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 3

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse, making out, finger fucking, handjob, praise kink, oh and soul-crushing angst :)

word count: 8.2k (i... dont even know what to say aegon makes me distracted)

previous part

series masterlist

A/N: things are finally getting spicey

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

divider credit @ cafekitsune! title of fic is from 'peter' by taylor swift.

Age 19

Sunspear wasn’t bad. In fact, Y/N loved it most days. The warm Dornish sun that kissed her skin every morning, the sea breeze that swept through the streets, and the vibrancy of the people made her feel alive. She’d made friends—good ones—and liked most of her classes. The city had charm, a warmth she didn’t expect, and a pace she could keep up with.

But somehow, since she’d moved here for college, everything felt a little hollow without Aegon. No matter how beautiful the sunsets were, how lively the city, or how many people surrounded her, there was a part of her that felt incomplete. Every holiday weekend, she looked forward to going back to King’s Landing just to hang out with him, only to be disappointed when he was off on some trip with his new friends, always busy with something or someone else.

Lately, though she’d found one distraction of her own: Qoren Martell. The kind, funny, downright hot boy she had been talking to for a while. At a party on campus one weekend, she had somehow ended up taking him back up to her dorm and hooking up with him. She didn’t know what she had expected his reaction to be the next morning, but when with a dashingly sunny smile he’d asked her for dinner, she couldn’t imagine turning him down. She was positively floating with excitement about the upcoming date, and there was no one else she wanted to gush about the new boy in her life to, than her best friend. The only problem was – Aegon had seemingly gone awol.

All day, Y/N’s phone sat on the table beside her, the screen flickering to life now and then with notifications. But none of them were from Aegon.

She tried to focus on her readings, flipping through textbooks, scribbling notes, and chatting with her friends between classes, but her mind kept wandering back to her phone. Each time it buzzed, her heart leapt with a flash of hope, only to come crashing down when it was just another random message or a social media update. No Aegon.

Her fingers hovered over his contact more times than she could count that day. She’d already sent him two texts in the morning: “Hey! Call me when you’re up :)” and “You alive?” Nothing. Hours passed, and she sent another, this time shorter, tinged with impatience: “You around?”

Still, no response.

She tried calling him, just to hear his voice, hoping he’d pick up. But after three rings, it went to voicemail, like it had so many times before. “It’s Aegon. Leave a message or don’t, whatever.” The tone of his message was casual, almost dismissive, but it felt like a punch to the gut. She hung up, biting back her frustration.

Why was he being like this? It wasn’t the first time he’d gone dark on her for days at a time, but it hadn’t always been this way. Before they had left for college, Aegon had been different — always around, always close. But now... It felt like he was slipping through her fingers, like the connection that had always felt unbreakable between them was fraying with every passing day.

Her texts and calls to him became more frequent as the day went on. “Where are you?” “Call me back.” “I need to talk to you.” Each one shorter, more pointed, as her frustration built up. It wasn’t like she was needy, or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. It was just that today, she needed him. For once, she was the one with something important to share. Something that made her excited and nervous all at once. But Aegon was nowhere to be found.

Instead, she guessed, he was probably out with his new friends. Drinking. Partying. Having a great time without her. The thought twisted in her chest, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She had seen the posts—pictures of him with a different crowd, new faces, girls, all of them smiling and laughing in places she’d never be invited to.

Aegon used to call her almost every night when they’d first gone to college. Even if it was just to chat, to vent, or to ask her what he should eat for dinner. But lately, those calls had become fewer and far between, replaced by half-hearted texts and vague replies. Sometimes he didn’t answer at all. He was always “busy,” or “with friends.” New friends. People she didn’t know, people he’d never mentioned before.

What was so important that he couldn’t even bother to text her back?

When she reached back to her dorm, Y/N threw her phone down on the bed, flopping beside it as her irritation simmered. She wanted to be angry at herself for caring so much. She had other things to focus on—classes, her friends here in Sunspear, the Martell boy who made her laugh. She was happy, or at least she should be. But Aegon’s silence gnawed at her, a constant reminder that something had shifted between them, and not in a good way.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. It wasn’t like before when they’d talk for hours about nothing and everything when he made her feel like she was the only one who knew him. Now, it was like she was just another voice in the background, easily ignored.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. How could he just... Vanish like this? He knew how much they meant to each other—he had to know. And yet, here she was, alone in her room, clutching her phone like it was some lifeline, waiting for a message that might not even come.

The anger built up, flooding her veins with heat. For once, she had something to tell him, something important, and he couldn’t even bother to be there for her. And whenever he had something? Whenever he wanted to talk about his latest hobby, the new song he wrote or just whatever crazy thing the latest girl he had slept with had done after finding out he wanted nothing more to do with her – Y/N was there for him. Listening to him go on and on, on the phone, never once complaining or bored. This was how he repaid her? He was always unreachable now, off with people who seemed to be more interesting, more fun than she could ever be.

She stared at her phone again, jaw clenched, tapping her fingers against her thigh. Just one reply, she thought. One text and I’ll feel better.

But as the minutes ticked by, the screen stayed dark, and the weight of his absence grew heavier. Eventually, she got tired of staring at her lock screen and realised looking at the time that she should be getting dressed for her date, and put her ungrateful idiot of a best friend out of her mind.

Just as she gave up and stood up from her bed though, her phone rang. It was him.

For a split second, relief washed over her. Finally. But as soon as she answered, the irritation she’d been holding onto all day surged to the surface.

“Aegon, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to reach you all day” she snapped, pacing across her room. Her heart was pounding, both from anger and the desperation of needing to hear from him.

On the other end of the line, there was a moment of silence—long enough to make her pause, her breath catching. Then she heard it: the unmistakable sound of Aegon sobbing.

Her heart dropped.

“Aegon?” She whispered, her anger evaporating almost immediately. She could tell from the way he was struggling to breathe, from the hitch in his voice, that something was terribly wrong. “What’s going on?”

“They found out,” he choked out, his voice thick with tears. “My parents... They found out I’ve been missing assignments, failing classes. Everything. They’re so fucking pissed, Y/N. Mum said she won’t get them to pass me this time if I don’t come intern with grandfather this break. They—they threatened to take away my trust fund if I don’t pull it together.”

Y/N sank onto her bed, clutching the phone tighter, her anger dissolving into concern as she listened. Aegon was never like this. He was always so laid back, putting on the devil may care persona, always trying to stow away his vulnerability. But she knew, oh she always knew, the sensitive boy who hid underneath there. Hearing him this upset tugged at her heartstrings in a way that made her chest ache.

“I just... I don’t know what to do,” he continued, his voice raw, as though the words were being ripped out of him. “I hate it here. I’m fucking drowning in this place. It’s so dead, and fucking ancient and…and...” His breath hitched again. “It doesn’t even have you in it.”

Those words stopped her cold.

The burn of irritation she’d carried all day flickered out, replaced by a deep ache. She could almost see him, sitting somewhere alone, head in his hands, breaking apart at the seams. The Aegon who had been partying with new friends, drinking himself into oblivion, wasn’t here right now. This was the real Aegon—the broken boy who hated being left alone, who always needed to have someone hold him, keep him together. Someone, who was more often than not, her.

“Aegon... I’m so sorry.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, “I didn’t know things were this bad.”

“It’s just... It’s all fucked up right now, and I can’t stand being here anymore. Everything’s falling apart. And I miss you. I fucking miss you so much.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her heart swelling with empathy. The way he said it—so vulnerable, so real—cut right through her. All the anger she’d built up over the day melted away. She couldn’t stay mad at him, not when he was hurting like this.

She wanted to say something, anything, to make it better. To tell him that it would be alright. But the words got caught in her throat. All she could do was sit there, holding onto the phone, her heart heavy with the weight of his pain.

She heard him sigh deeply on the other end, making her want to reach through the phone and pull him into a hug, to somehow make all of this disappear for him. But she couldn’t. She was hundreds of miles away, stuck in her own life.

When he’d finally gotten it all out of his system, the sobs quieted and his breathing evened out. It was like the storm had passed, leaving behind a hollow calm. “So, what did you wanna talk about?” He asked, his voice still rough, but lighter now, almost as if he’d forgotten his own sadness for a moment.

Y/N blinked, startled by the question. For a second, she’d forgotten, too. Then her eyes flicked down to her phone, and she saw the text notification from her date—“Leaving now, see you soon.”

She hesitated, staring at the message. It would’ve been so easy to tell Aegon the truth, to share the excitement she’d felt earlier. But now, after everything he’d just said, it felt wrong. Like rubbing salt in an open wound. She couldn’t just hang up and go about her night, no. Aegon needed her. And nothing, nothing, could ever come before Aegon for her.

She sighed and started typing out an excuse to Qoren, her fingers moving quickly as she lied into the phone without hesitation. “I was thinking about taking scuba lessons while I’m down here, thoughts?”

There was a pause, and then Aegon snorted. “And prayers. You don’t even know how to swim.”

“I do know how to swim!” She protested, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see it, smiling despite herself. “No, you don’t. You’ve always refused to swim with me in the pool back home. You just sit outside with a stupid book every summer.” “Because last time I did come in, you perved at me in my bikini,” she shot back, laughing.

“Oh right,” he said, his tone lighter now, teasing. She could almost hear the cocky grin in his voice. “That coral blue thing, right? Great memory. I can still recall it... Clinging to you in all the right places…”

“Aegon!” She shouted, laughing harder now as he started going into details.

“What? I’m just saying, it was a good look on you. A really, really good look.”

“God, you’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was no anger in her voice now, just warmth as she fell back onto her bed, the weight of the day lifting just a little.

Age 20

Y/N stepped off the taxi into the cool night air, her heart racing with anticipation as she took in the grand spires of Oldtown College.

The trip was almost impulsive. After two years of living in different states and months of practically all their communication being restricted to texting once a week, Y/N decided enough was enough. She had this long weekend free and she asked him what he thought about her coming to visit. He replied “HELLLZ YEA$” and “well get shitfacedd,” which she took as a yes.

She had spent the past few hours imagining his reaction when he saw her, thinking about how much she had missed him. This sudden visit was supposed to be special, a weekend just for them. She was not going to let anything ruin this.

She adjusted the strap of the bag on her shoulder and made her way through the sprawling campus. Everything looked so medieval and stunning, almost imposingly so at times; as if the history of this place was larger than life. She made a mental note to make Aegon properly show her around. But the directions Aegon had given her seemed to take her away from the scenic, old city and out to the outskirts.

She ended up at a large, slightly rundown house, clearly a fraternity. She hesitated at the entrance, the open door spilling the sound of music and laughter out into the night. There was a crowd out on the lawn, and from what she could hear, one inside the building too. She glanced down at her phone to recheck the address, pulling at the helm of the denim skirt she wore in nervousness as she looked around the crowd, but she was pretty sure if the smell of weed and alcohol was anything to go by this place was Aegon’s.

Taking a deep breath, she walked up the front porch steps and inside the house, stepping into a chaotic scene of students, red solo cups in hand, grinding to loud music she couldn’t make out the words to.

“Aegon?” She called out, her voice barely audible over the noise. The sea of unfamiliar faces made her nervous, and she started fidgeting with the strap of her carry-on as she anxiously scanned the place for familiar mop of platinum-blonde hair.

“There she is!” Y/N was startled as two arms suddenly wrapped around her from her side, but she relaxed immediately seeing their owner. “oh thank god, I was half scared you’d forgotten I was showing up today” she chuckled, as she shifted to hug him properly. “are you kidding? It’s all I’ve been talking about all week, ask any of the guys.” She felt an immediate sense of relief, once Aegon was with her, hugging him felt as familiar as her room back home. He smelled exactly as she remembered – the same almost sweet-smelling cologne he’d worn since he was 15, the one she had gifted him, mixed with a strong hint of weed and ash. His arms around her felt the same as they did two years ago too, pressing her impossibly close to his chest as if he couldn’t quite trust her to stay.

When she pulled back from him, he wore one of his lazy smiles, but there was something off in his eyes that made her frown slightly. She realised the bags underneath his eyes were darker and he was sweating all over. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all familiar. “you okay?” She searched his face, but he reflected nothing other than his usual impishness, though his eyes felt unusually blank to her. “you’re here I’m more than a-okay, I’m great. Now this party can finally start!” Looking around Y/N wondered if this was the party before it had even started then she didn’t want to stick around to watch it ‘begin.’

“let’s grab you a drink” Aegon took hold of her wrist and started to pull her into the party, but she grabbed she forearm with her free hand to stop him. “I’ve just been on one long train ride, then a taxi, I think I’d rather freshen up first. Can we go to my hotel? Were you able to book that cute, old B&B, the Tower Inn, I asked you to?”

He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the ground as his grin faltered. “Oh, right… about that… I, uh, forgot.” He winced slightly, but before she could respond, he quickly added, “But it’s fine, you can stay here at the frat! We’ve got plenty of space.”

Y/N’s smile wavered. “Stay here? Aegon, I don’t know if that’s—”

“Hey, it’ll be fun!” Aegon interrupted, grabbing her shoulders with his grin back in full force. His eyes fell on the bag she was carrying and he took it off her, “and anyway you can’t leave, I’ve thrown this party in your honour, after all.” He walked a few steps into a hallway to his left, opening the first door, a door she hoped opened into his room and not some random person’s as he threw her bag in there, unceremoniously. “Plus, it’s just for a weekend. What’s the worst that could happen?”

There were in fact many answers she could think to that question, knowing Aegon. Before she could tell him that this wasn’t how she had imagined their weekend together though, he’d grabbed her hand and was already pulling her deeper into the crowd.

He thrust into her hand a solo cup which smelled so strong Y/N wanted to keep it at arm’s length. He then went about introducing her to his frat brothers and friends as enthusiastically as possible, but he wouldn’t let her linger with any one of them. He moved through the room with such easy confidence, Y/N was reminded of why all the girls back at school found his ways charming instead of irritating as she often did. Y/N didn’t have as easy a time at the party though. The room was a whirl of noise and energy, and as much as she tried to immerse herself in it, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place.

After a while, Aegon started to get distracted, his attention repeatedly drifting away from Y/N. First, it was a group of his frat brothers who pulled him into a conversation about some upcoming trip. Then, he got roped into a drinking game, which somehow left him with his shirt off. Y/N tried to pull him aside, fitting him his shirt as she attempted to talk to him about how things had been going for her at college. He seemed to be simply nodding to what she was saying, as he patted his pockets to find something. When his pockets turned up empty, he made an excuse and rushed away to the bathroom. Y/N could only stand there blinking at the place which was previously occupied by him.

Upon his return, she observed there was an extra pep in his step, he seemed to be bursting with energy even more than usual. His words came out rushed, and his eyes were unfocused, even when he was talking to Y/N she had the distinct feeling he wasn’t really listening. It didn’t take long for her to figure out what exactly had changed from the last time she’d seen him.

She tried to stay close to him, but every time she turned around, he was off again, engaged in some new activity or laughing with another group of friends. Eventually, Y/N found herself sipping a suspicious soda she found in the fridge, forcing smiles whenever someone glanced her way, but inside, she was starting to feel more like a spectator than a guest of honour.

From where she stood on the sidelines, her eyes followed Aegon’s figure around the room, the feeling that this weekend might have been a mistake now sinking in. All she’d wanted was for it to be like old times for just one weekend, just the two of them hanging around like they did back in school. She was starting to realise that maybe Aegon wasn’t the same person he was back in school anymore.

Aegon, now deep into his drinks, seemed completely at ease, blending into the chaos around him. But every time Y/N caught his eye, he would flash her a quick smile, as if that would somehow make up for his absence. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, other than stand all alone by the edge of the room, feeling increasingly invisible.

She was lost in her thoughts when a tall guy with a sleazy smirk approached her. He was holding a half-empty beer and leaned in too close for comfort. “Hey there,” he said smoothly, a little too smoothly, his eyes roving over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “You look like you could use some company.”

Y/N stiffened, glancing around the room for Aegon, but he was nowhere in sight. “I’m fine, thanks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady and polite, but the guy didn’t take the hint. He stepped closer, his grin widening as he reached out to touch her arm.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with false charm. “Let me get you a real drink. You’re too pretty to be standing here all by yourself.”

Before she could respond, she felt a familiar arm sling around her shoulders, pulling her close in a protective, yet slightly possessive, gesture. “ah! there you are Y/N, I see you’ve found our resident creep Walder” Aegon’s voice cut through the tension, slurred and slightly rough, but still carrying enough authority.

The guy’s eyes widened in recognition, his cocky demeanour instantly replaced with a more cautious one. “Oh, sorry, Egg,” he stammered, raising his hands in a mock surrender. “Didn’t know she was your girl.”

Aegon didn’t bother to correct him, his grip on Y/N’s shoulder tightening for a moment. Only when the other guy quickly slinked away into the crowd, did Aegon let his arm drop to his side, leaving Y/N standing there with a mixture of relief and irritation inside her.

She turned to Aegon, shrugging off the lingering sensation of his arm around her. “What was that about?” She demanded, her voice sharp, though she was trying to keep her emotions in check.

Aegon just shrugged, as he raised his beer to his lips. “he’s a dick,” he muttered before taking a long swig, his eyes already drifting back to the party as if nothing had happened.

Y/N’s frustration flared. “after freezing me out for most of the night you can’t just show up and act like some kind of knight in shining armour.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by her reaction. “he’s an ass, I just stepped in to handle it. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s the problem, Aegon!” She snapped, her voice rising with her anger. “You act like everything is just... Whatever. Like nothing matters! You didn’t even correct him when he assumed I was just... Just some girl with you for the night.”

“So what?” Aegon shot back, his irritation now matching hers. “What difference does it make? What does it matter what he thinks?”

“It matters to me!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with the intensity of her emotions. “I came all this way to see you, and all you’ve done is ignore me and get drunk. Do you even care that I’m here?” “I don’t need this right now.” He muttered, looking around the room again as if searching for an escape.

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat, the hurt overwhelming her. “oh, I’m sorry am I killing your buzz? Fine then,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained tears. “I’m out of here.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her vision blurred by the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. She pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way, and made her way upstairs, locking herself in the first room she saw which turned out to be the bathroom.

She leaned against the door as she finally let the tears spill freely, sobs escaping her throat. She slid down to the floor, her head in her hands, the weight of the night crashing down on her. This wasn’t how she had imagined their reunion, not at all. It was supposed to be special, but instead, it was turning into a nightmare.

A few minutes passed before she heard a knock on the door. “Y/N?” Aegon’s voice was hesitant, still slurred but tinged with a mix of frustration and concern. “Come on, open up. I know you’re in there. Why are you being like this?”

She didn’t respond, trying to stifle her sobs lest he hear them. But the knocking persisted, followed by the sound of him leaning against the door. “Y/N, seriously, just let me in,” he mumbled, his tone softening slightly.

For a second he sounded so sincere, so much like her best friend, that she could almost forget that he was the reason she was crying on the bathroom floor in the first place.

She hesitated, but then stood and unlocked the door, opening it just enough to see him standing there. His usual confident demeanour had slipped slightly, replaced with a defeated look of annoyance as he leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you being such a Debbie downer?” He whined, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I came all this way to see you and you’ve…” she repeated, her voice cracking as she wiped away the tears. She knew who her best friend was, she knew he had never been the guy to stick by her side all night, to ignore the world when she was around, to make her feel like she was the only person in the world he cared about. But the display of the night had set a new low bar, even for him.

“You always do this,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly as he swayed on his feet, his voice filled with annoyance. “You show up, and suddenly I’m supposed to drop everything, like nothing else matters. Well, I can’t! It’s a party, and I’m not going to babysit you all night.” He sounded so thoughtless and inconsiderate, his face looked so exhausted by the idea of having to be around her.

Her heart twisted at his words, enough anger to make her want to throw something at him flared up inside her and mixed with the sadness of being like a burden to him. “oh well, forgive me for thinking my best friend of ten fucking years would prioritise seeing me for one stupid weekend over attending one of his hundred parties” he looked positively offended at her words and shot, “I threw this one for you!” “Well, I didn’t ask for this!” She snapped back, her voice rising. “I just wanted to spend time with you, Aegon.” Though rage filled her, she should couldn’t help how her tone softened, when she added, “Is that so hard?”

He let out a sharp, exasperated breath, his eyes narrowing, though she could tell he was having a hard time focusing. She was now close enough in that suffocating bathroom to see the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck. His breathing seemed more rapid, she was sure she could hear his heartbeat if she honed in on the sound. This wasn’t the effect of just weed and alcohol, she knew how he reacted to those.

He rubbed his face with his fingers, before dragging them through his hair making them appear even more unruly. “It’s not about it being hard, Y/N. It’s just... Things get complicated with you. You come in with these expectations, and I’m just… I don’t know how to be what you want!” His frustration was clear, but she couldn’t understand what the hell he was so frustrated about.

“What expectations?” Y/N’s voice was incredulous, and confused at his words. Aegon opened his mouth to start to say something to her in response but then stopped midway. He turned around, his back now facing her as he rubbed his eyes, as if talking to her now was a strain on them.

Her anger bubbled over once again, “I just wanted you to act like you cared! Like maybe I wasn’t just some afterthought to you. But how can you even do that when you’re high out of your mind on coke.”

Aegon suddenly turned back to her at the accusation, looking defensive but taken aback. “Don’t start with that,” he shot back as he took a step towards her, his voice sharp despite the slurring. “I’m fine, Y/N. You don’t need to come in here and act like you know what’s best for me.”

“Fine? You call this fine?” Y/N’s voice cracked with a mix of anger and concern. She took a step towards him and grabbed his soaking wet t-shirt, “You’re sweating like this in a fully air-conditioned house, you keep going to the bathroom every five seconds like you ate some bad curry and your eyes are so unfocused you’ve barely looked at me this entire time.” Aegon in response looked less like an addict apprehended and more like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. He looked sheepish almost, his eyes looking away from her, but she caught some shame behind them. Were it anyone else giving him this lecture he would have laughed in their face, but the fact that it was her, it seemed to break through his confident façade.

Her gaze momentarily dropped from his eyes to his lips and she let out a dry, humourless laugh as she saw leftover vestiges of some white powder on his upper lip. She reached out with one hand to brush it aside, sighing sadly “I’m guessing this isn’t sugar.” She had a sudden realisation then how intimate the moment had become, they were standing only inches apart, with one of her hands still grabbing his shirt, the other cupping his face. He looked back at her with a vulnerability that left her feeling like her cheeks were on fire. He didn’t ask her for space, but she suddenly felt like she needed to be miles away from him.

“you know what, you’re right.” She let go of him and cleared her throat as she took a step back. “actually you don’t even need to be in here with me, I’m clearly keeping you from this rager of a party and probably some grade-a-quality coke.” The smell of sweat and smoke mixed in with whiskey and expensive cologne, the smell of Aegon, was getting too much for her when she stood this close to him. She tried to take a few more steps away, as much as the small place would allow when he suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“You don’t get to judge me. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want to be with you?” She blinked back at his almost pitiful expression, eyes that seemed like they were seconds away from spilling tears. For a second she thought the emphasis with which he said the phrase ‘be with you’ he might not mean just the party, but she couldn’t be sure and the moment fleeted as he went on, “I’m doing my best, but I’m not going to change who I am just because you want something different!” his words spilling out faster than his brain could process them, his frustration mingling with the fog of intoxication.

“I’m not asking you to change who you are!” Y/N shot back, her voice rising in intensity. “I’m asking you to stop pretending like everything’s cool. You keep pushing me away, and then you act like it’s my fault.”

“Maybe it is your fault!” He accused with his voice rising enough to make Y/N flinch and take a step back, but he didn’t let go of her wrist and instead walked closer to her, backing them up till she was against the wall, trapped by him. “because this is what you do. You look at me with those big-big eyes, expecting me to be someone different, someone good, someone more like you. But I’m not you. And I can’t be.” He sounded so resigned, as if this was always how it was going to be, how he was going to be. And the fact that she wanted something better for him was nothing more than a distant, impossible dream. She noticed the tears welling in his eyes were now escaping and she had to do everything in her power to remain mad at him and not wipe them away. Though his tone was one of anger, his expression looked as if this pained him, as if he was cursed and she wasn’t understanding how doomed he was. “I can’t be who you need me to be. And maybe if you didn’t come in here expecting that, expecting everything to be perfect, we wouldn’t be having this fight!”

She scoffed at his words, “Perfect? I of all people would never expect perfect from you Aegon. And I’ve never said you need to be so. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to give a damn! About me, about yourself—about anything!”

They were close now, the space between them almost non-existent, their breaths coming fast and harsh. Aegon still held onto her wrist tight enough to hurt her, but she stared up at him almost defiantly. The air crackled with unresolved tension, the anger between them sparking like a live wire.

Aegon swayed slightly, his hands trembling as he struggled to keep his balance, his whole body tense with frustration. “You think I don’t give a damn?” He growled, his voice low and dangerous, though the slur was still there. “You think I don’t care?”

Before she could respond, Aegon pulled her toward him by the wrist he had been holding capture, with a force that was more clumsy than intentional. His lips crashed against hers in a kiss that was fierce and unyielding, all the pent-up anger and frustration pouring out in that single, desperate moment. It was a collision, an explosion of everything they hadn’t been able to say, their argument turning into something else entirely.

Y/N responded instinctively, her free hand gripping the front of his shirt as if to hold on, the intensity of the kiss taking her by surprise. The anger that had fuelled their fight was still there, but it was being channelled into something raw and primal, a release of all the emotions they had been bottling up. Aegon’s movements were uncoordinated, the kiss messy and driven by the haze of alcohol and drugs, but it was full of the desperate need to connect, to keep her so close to him that she could not leave. His tongue wasted no time in pushing past her lips, with little to no defence being put up by Y/N. As his tongue massaged hers, he finally let go of her wrist and instead reached to put his hands under her shirt, touching the soft skin of her bare lower back. Her own hands reached for his hair, fisting the pale blonde strands for dear life.

He broke the kiss only to travel to the side of her neck, making Y/N gasp with the ferocity with which he attached himself there. She felt the euphoric feeling of his soft lips against her sensitive skin interchange with him cutting at it with his teeth every once in a while, the whiplash of pleasure and pain making her moan. His hand then travelled to her legs, pulling them apart slightly by hooking his hand under her knee, before it trailed up her thigh, and then stopped.

He lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his expression hooded with lust. At him pulling back she became nervous momentarily and searched for any sign of hesitation or regret in him, but was relieved when she found none. All he said was, “Do you want me to stop?” The feeling of his thumb brushing up against her clothed core as his hand grabbed the flesh of her inner thigh, was so tantalising, so inviting, that she could barely get words out, instead just quickly shaking her head. That was all the confirmation he needed, as he caught her breath in his mouth once again closing the very little gap between them.

He had settled in between her thighs, and Y/N couldn’t help but buck her hips against his, with a desperate need to have him pressing against her. Aegon seemingly shared that need as he rubbed against her by pulled her parted thighs closer to his body which made her denim skirt ride up even higher, his lips never leaving hers to so much as breathe.

He shifted his hand to fully place it between her legs and the sudden manner in which he moved her panties aside, letting the air hit her exposed pussy made Y/N gasp into the kiss. Aegon’s finger were quickly rubbing at her button, making her yelp and break the kiss. “Aegon…” she threw her head back against the tilled wall of the bathroom at the feeling of him pressing down against her sensitive spot, his hand moving with vigour and impatience. He then moved his index finger from her clit to push through her folds, his thumb replacing it at the top. His finger curled up inside her in the most delicious way, his thumb never ceasing from massaging her nub. “look at you, dripping with just one finger.” Y/N might have felt more embarrassed by the overenthusiastic response her body had to Aegon, if her mind had the ability to focus on anything other than the feeling in her stomach that just wanted to be pushed further, to reach some conclusion. He seemed dissatisfied with her lack of a response, and pushed another finger in her without warning, making her grab his shoulder and hiss in pleasure.

“Tell me do you like this, like being finger-fucked in the bathroom like a dirty slut?” He cooed in her ear, “yes” she rasped out as her body squirmed from the stimulation. His fingers were working at a rapid speed, pounding into her cunt. Her juices had made the job easier for him, the sick sound of his fingers sliding in and out of her with ease was putting her over the edge. “and how does it feel, to be the dirty little whore getting taken in some fucking party?” Her chest was rising and falling with her quick shallow breaths, to the point that she barely registered his words, but she noticed when he suddenly stopped moving his fingers, holding still inside her. “I asked you how does it feel?” She whined in response, as she opened her eyes to look at him which allowed her to finally see his expression.

She didn’t know what she had expected Aegon to look like, but looking this… delicate, had certainly not been what she would have imagined. He looked almost expectant as if he needed her to tell him how good she felt, how good he was making her feel, how good he was. She reached out and cupped his face, replying with sincerity “Amazing.” The way his face lit up hearing that, she could have watched him forever. His fingers slowly began to start their movement again, “and who’s making you feel this way?” “you, you, you….only you.” She croaked out as she tried to rub herself against his fingers to increase the pace. Her hand reached out covering his hand with her own, trying to push his fingers deeper inside her in desperation which made him grin cockily. “such a needy little slut… all for me.” She could only whimper in response.

It seemed he had gotten his satisfactory answer, because he restarted his previous pace, making her bite down on her lip to silence her moans as she neared her end. “c’mon let me hear your pretty little cries, let me hear you scream” he goaded her as his assault on her folds reached its zenith and she came with a cry of his name.

She felt empty as he pulled his fingers out of her, only to push them against her lips in a silent command, which she readily obeyed. She parted her lips and licked his fingers clean, as he watched with bated breath, “such a good girl” he murmured.

As she finished she noticed the bulge he was now supporting, aroused from all the activity. “my turn” she panted. With unsteady hands she felt his length over the jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down with his underwear to reveal just how ready he was for her, precum leaking off his tip. Her eyes looked up at him for silent approval, as she wrapped her small hand around him. He merely reached out and placed one of her out-of-place hair strands behind her ear, looking on not only in anticipation but also in simple adoration of her. It made her heart beat faster, if that was even possible, as she started to tug at his length.

She felt nervous as she started, but the constant string of praise Aegon was whispering in her ear kept her going. She loved the reaction she could elicit from him, it gave her a high not unlike the one she got when he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. She watched as his face twisted in pleasure, as he had to place a hand on the wall behind her to keep himself upright, as he bit down on his lip with a soft sigh of “fuck.” She’d known him forever and yet, she couldn’t recall a moment that he looked more beautiful than he did in that moment – standing between her legs, her hand reached out to the space between them, squeezing his hard shaft. As he realised he was near completion, he harshly grabbed a hold of her waist and pressed her back to him in a rough kiss, making him come right there on her inner thigh.

He rested his forehead against hers, as they simply stilled for a moment. She could hear the music floating from the party raging outside the bathroom, which almost brought her back to reality. She wanted to say so many things to Aegon, wanted to discuss what this even meant, but she felt this dream was far too beautiful to be so rudely awoken from just yet. From the lack of words from Aegon, she guessed they were on the same page about this.

She glanced down as she felt him harden already against her soft thigh, and glanced back up at him. His expression remained glazed over, as he hummed in content against her skin. “you have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now,” her mouth went dry at his admission. “what’s stopping you?” She boldly replied, a determination in her eyes.

“yeah?” A smile broke across his lips at her encouragement, “you want this?” “I want you.” She confirmed as she reached out and kissed him. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, his hand grabbing her breast through her shirt as he did. He then abruptly turned her around by the waist so she was facing the wall, taking her hands and placing them on either side of her for balance. She could feel him lift up her skirt and slowly drag her panties down her legs, till they were off of her, seeing him place them in his jeans’ back pocket out of the corner of her eye.

He lined up against her and she was waiting in anticipation for when he would fill her, when a knock on the door interrupted the moment suddenly. “Aegon?” In carried the voice of a girl attempting to shout through the door, “Walder said he saw you go in here. How long are you going to be, babe?”

Aegon cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes at the interruption and turning toward the door. “Be there in a minute!”

Without missing a beat, he turned back to her, trying to resume where they left off, hands slipping around her waist. “Looks like it’ll have to be a quickie.”

But the tension between them was starting to dissipate, replaced by a sinking feeling in Y/N’s chest. “‘Babe’?” She echoed softly, the realisation hitting her as she slowly asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” Aegon rubbed his eyes as if the question was an irritating inconvenience. “Define girlfriend.”

“Oh my gods.” Reality came crashing down on her, as she turned around and shoved past him to put distance between them. She grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the mix of his and her own fluids running down her thighs, angry beyond belief and hurt beyond repair. She pulled her skirt down, and got ready to leave.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Aegon asked, bewildered, trying to reach for her again, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch. “just stay the fuck away from me!” She shouted at him. His expression looked confused, which made her even more angry. How could he possibly not get what a big fuck up this was on his part?

Y/N’s voice trembled, but the words spilt out like a dam breaking. “All this time we’ve been friends, I used to be so arrogant about how close we are. How I wasn’t like all the others. That I wasn’t just ‘one of your girls.’” Her chest heaved as she fought to keep her voice steady. “But you’ve proven me wrong, Aegon. You’ve proven that all you’ve ever thought of me is as just one more pretty thing to fuck.”

Aegon blinked, clearly taken aback, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air between them. “Y/N, wait—”

But she was already turning away, her throat tight with unshed tears. The bathroom felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her, and she needed to escape, to get away from the mess she’d walked into.

She pushed the door open, the pounding bass of the party hitting her like a wave as she slipped out into the crowd. She ran to the room where she remembered Aegon throwing her things and grabbed her bag as she made her exit from the frat house.

Outside, the cool night air slapped her in the face, and the cold made her glad to have another sensation to focus on that wasn’t the hurt inside her chest. She stumbled down the steps, her vision blurred, as she started almost jogging on the pathway leading her away. She just wanted to put this place behind her, wanted to get as far away from Aegon as her feet could take her. Lost in her own thoughts she barely noticed the familiar voice calling out to her from a car that had stopped next to her on the road.

She turned around to see a boy with his overgrown curly hair at the wheel, the window of his car pulled down as he looked on with concern. She hadn’t seen him in a year or so but his identity was unmistakable to her, “Jace?” She vaguely remembers Aegon telling her with much annoyance that his nephew had joined him at Oldtown this term.

“You alright?” He looked at her with sympathetic eyes and she had the distinct feeling that he knew the reason for her distress had to be his uncle. Y/N wiped hastily at her eyes, trying to pull herself together. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely a whisper. “just need to find a place to stay for tonight.”

“Hop in, let me give you a lift to a decent inn.” He kindly offered, a small, inviting smile on his face. She hesitated, her pride warring with the crushing need for comfort. She looked around and realised she didn’t have many options anyway. With a quiet nod, she accepted Jace’s offer and got in.

The car door clicked shut behind her as she sank into the seat “Thank you,” she softly muttered. He simply shrugged, “It’s no big deal. There’s this amazing place called the Tower Inn, just around the corner. It’s usually got room this time of year.” She couldn’t help but chuckle humourlessly at the mention of the place she had originally planned to be at, if all had gone to plan “Sounds good.”

[scoonsalicious]

A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 4/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 7/11/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Series On Hiatus

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ON HIATUS (Updated 6/17/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 1 )

part one • part two • part three • part four

pairing: e-1610!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: miles rizzing you up after knowing you for two seconds, a beef patty changing the entire course of trajectory for your life. nothing too major

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 1,634

a/n: this was originally going to be one long fic but i decided to split it up, and i’m estimating around four, maybe five chapters in total. also, chapter one is cute but i thought i should let y’all know that two of them will contain some angst/conflict! this is the first series i’ve ever written so it won’t be the best, and i’m still deciding if i like how i mapped out the rest of the story so please bear with me if updates are a tad irregular 😅

next

To think, a damn beef patty is what started it all.

A beef patty that had tumbled out of your hands, down the sweater you’d just taken to the laundromat— your favorite one, at that— and onto the dirty bodega floor when a hard surface came in contact with you on your way to leave.

“Oh shit—“

“Jeez, what the hell man!”

You lunch gone and your good mood with it, your head lifted a great distance from the murder scene at your feet to meet the apologetic face of who had committed this unjust crime against your rumbling stomach.

“I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going…” The boy in front of you murmured sheepishly, palm dragging at the back of his neck.

Lips pursed, your forefinger and thumb pinched at the bridge of your nose as you willed yourself to refrain from cursing him out. New york already had enough of that, you decided as he continued apologizing.

“It’s my fault. I bumped into you, it’s fine.” you grumbled curtly, clearly irked. Shifting the blame onto yourself was your best attempt at keeping your anger at bay. The last thing you wanted to do was cut up in this nice man’s shop, especially not on a Sunday.

With a heavy sigh and a scratch to your brow, you crouched down and swiftly scooped the discarded meal off the floor with a napkin. Great, money down the drain.

“Let me buy you another one.” He said to the top of your green adidas beanie, palms pushed together to accompany his plea.

“No need.”

“I really wanna buy you another one.”

You shot up and tossed the remnants into the trash, your frustration evident in how much forced you used. “Dude, it’s—“

“I’m buying you another one.” he insisted, chin raising when he hollered at the clerk. “Yo, Lenny, lemme get another beef patty, man.”

He shuffled past you before you could decline again, the man behind the counter already sliding a fresh one past the register after having witnessed the run in.

You stared at the back of this stranger, brows furrowed incredulously. He was nice, which was unusual for someone in this city, so your innate response was to be annoyed at his persistence. People were always bumping into you and ruining your day, but no one had ever offered to fix it before.

“That’s the last one I got for the day, Miles.” Lenny, the owner of the shop informed apologetically, his Jamaican accent heavy on his tongue. He knew the boy usually came into his store around this hour for one thing, and it was always for one of his beef patties.

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it.” Waving him off, Miles slapped the cash down onto the counter and snatched the pastry up.

“Here,” He turned to you just as you were brushing your hands off onto your dark-wash jeans, breath held with what he hoped would be a peace-offering, extended out to you. “I’m sorry, again.”

You looked up at him, then back down at the patty in his hand before you gently accepted it, the pads of your fingers lingering in his palm when you did so.

“Thank you,..” trailing off, you blinked up at him, a silent request for his name. He was tall, kind of lanky, and had the prettiest brown eyes you’d probably ever seen. They stared back at you, appearing puzzled before he put the pieces together.

“Oh!— Miles.” he answered with a warm smile, hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket. It was green, your favorite color.

“Thank you… Miles.” you returned his smile with a smaller one, something about it contagious.

Caught up in the way you said his name for a moment, it wasn’t until you were already halfway out the door when he realized you hadn’t told him yours.

“Wait! I didn’t get your—“ he called out to the air, the bell on the shop’s door a taunt of his failed attempt. “Name.” he murmured, shoulders falling with a sigh.

He felt eyes on him and turned to the side, lips smacking against his teeth in annoyance at who’s stare he’d caught.

“Don’t be mad at me, man. You gotta step ya game up.” Lenny threw his hands up in surrender and stifled a laugh, shaking his head at the boy.

Even though he had nothing to be smiling about when he exited the small store—seeing as he was out of five dollars and still hungry—Miles found himself walking home that day with a smile etched onto his face, a little pep in his step and something to keep his mind busy.

Nothing happened, that was obvious, but for some reason he felt like this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

—

Exactly one thing was on your mind the next time you entered Lenny’s shop, and he already knew what it was before you’d opened your mouth to ask after approaching the register.

Well, maybe two things, but the second one wasn’t necessary to get into.

“Comin’ righ’tup, sweetheart.” He nodded at you.

“Thanks.” You smiled sweetly, idly tapping your hands against the counter during your short wait.

The white parchment paper cradling your all time favorite snack slid over to you a minute later. You paid quickly, your stomach rumbling just from smelling the savory treat.

Just as you went to turn around, you spotted that same boy who’d ran into you a week ago and nearly ruined your day. Miles, you remembered his name was, as you stuck an apprehensive hand out in front of you, patty pulled close to your chest and brows raised in warning.

“Chill,” He laughed, his hands shooting up in defense. “I’m out your way this time, promise.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, his playful demeanor rubbed off on you. “You better be.”

“Please don’t tell me you got the last one.” He pleaded with hopeful eyes, but wishful thinking never did much for him.

“She sure did.” Lenny called from behind the counter, eyeing Miles closely to see if he’d take the bone he threw. He then ticked his head to the side with a slightly widened stare, as if urging the disappointed boy to make a move.

“Woops.” Using your fingers, you ripped a piece off the patty and popped it into your mouth, shrugging as you brushed past Miles, who had just caught on to what the shop owner did for him.

With your back to him as you pushed the door open to outside, you missed the two fingered salute Miles shot towards the man as a thank you.

He followed after you, swiftly shouldering himself through the closing door and sliding outside, into step with you.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number for half of it.” He offered with a boyish grin, long legs able to keep up with ease.

You nearly choked, steps halting when you spun around to face him. What made him think you wanted his number? And maybe you did, because you definitely thought he was cute, but that was besides the point since he didn’t know that.

“Are you flirting with me?” you asked, and he perked up a bit.

“Depends. Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes. “How about my name first?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the side of the building a bit. “I kinda assumed that was a package deal, seeing as I’ll need something to save your contact under.”

Okay, you’ll admit it, that was smooth.

You put your hand on your hip, patty in the other with your head tilted in thought. “Somehow, I feel like this deal benefits you more than me.”

“That‘s possible.” Miles chuckled, and you can’t believe that’s all it took to convince you. How pretty he looked when he laughed. How good your name sounded rolling off his tongue when he’d repeated it back to stake it within his memory.

You quietly hummed to yourself, contemplating. You’d never accepted a guy’s advances this easily, and figured you’d test him in a way he’d most likely fail.

“Quick, what’s my favorite color?”

There was a pause.

“Green.”

Your jaw dropped. “What— How in the hell?” You gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“You give away more than you know with your eyes.” He grinned. “Saw you eyeing my jacket last week, and you’re doing it again today. And your beanie, too.” With a raise of his eyes from yours, he pointed out the forest green hat pulled snug over your head and your hand mindlessly went to touch it. “But honestly, I was only like, seventy percent sure, so maybe you can call it a lucky guess.”

You quirked a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m checking you out now?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind.”

Well, you’d managed to lose at your own game, fair and square. Holding his gaze for a minute, you had to restrain a smile from splitting through your calm and collected facade and shooed away the urge with a clearing of your throat.

“Phone.” You held your hand out, beckoning him for it.

Fetching it from his pants pocket, he did the same to you with his other hand, palm upwards. “Patty.”

Huffing in frustration, you awarded him the half he earned and snatched the device, ignoring the triumphant look on his face as you punched your digits in.

—

It was pitiful. It barely took anything for you to take interest in a guy in general— but even if your standards were ridiculously high, there was no doubt that Miles would have weasled his way into your thoughts regardless.

You’d checked your phone at least six times in the past hour in hopes of seeing a text, coming up with unconvincing excuses like checking the time, or the weather— all while blatantly pretending to be oblivious towards the possibility that a message from an unknown number might just be there, too.

And then it came.

[Unknown]: Best patty I’ve had in a while. Food always tastes better when it’s not yours :)

He had you on your stomach, features pulled into a hopeful smile with your legs fluttering in the air off one message. You’d remind yourself to get a grip in due time.

Who’s this?

You knew damn well who it was. But you wouldn’t be who you were if you didn’t play hard to get.

[Unknown]: Damn, you forgot about me that quickly?

You clicked the info button in the top right corner of your phone and saved him as a contact before you replied.

Maybe. Remind me of your name again? Micah, right?

[Miles]: Okay, now that’s just hurtful. I do not look like a Micah!

You laughed to yourself at that, flopping onto your back as you typed a response. In the back of your mind you wondered if things would progress any further than this conversation.

But if only you could’ve time travelled and spoken to your future self, because she would’ve told you that forgetting about a boy like Miles Morales, or trying to, would be impossible.

tags: @cctoma

[beybaldes]

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Roy Kent × Fem!Reader

word count: 9.8k

summary: jamie tartt once told you Roy needed someone to show him it was okay to be soft; Roy has found that person in you

content warning: spoilers for the plot of 'the couple next door' by Shari Lapena, tooth rotting fluff with the whole Kent bloodline and the Richmond boys, neither reader nor Roy has parents because I said so, allusions to smut but basically non written.

masterlist

a/n: this is technically a part 2 to my fic ‘it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know’ but can 100% be read as a standalone fic!! Thank you for all the love on the first part I acc can’t believe the amount of love and support it received 🥲🥲

"Hey, hot stuff." Your hands came to rest against Roy's shoulders, squeezing, then moving slowly across his collar bones and down his chest, coming to rest connected just above his heart. A featherlight kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear, and then another behind his ear, followed by a trail of quick kisses down his neck until your face was buried in the crook of it. "How's your book?"

"Fucking great." Roy answered back, voice low and mellow, maintaining the peaceful atmosphere in your living room.

Ever since you'd moved in together a year and a half ago, your entire house had become a sanctuary for the two of you. Roy's new position as manager made it so that even though you worked together, you saw much less of each other during the workday - mainly because it wasn't at his leisure to go in and out of your office all day any more. Even if you did spend every minute of every day around each other, you knew you could never get sick of Roy; you'd become quite the experts at communicating how you were feeling and what you were thinking, especially since every time he tried to keep you out, you would figure it out anyway.

"I mean, I've had my theories throughout about who did it, but I'd never have guessed this." Roy missed your touch as soon as you let go of him, reaching out so that he could hold your hand in his tightly while you walked around the couch to take a seat by his side. "I thought surely, what, with the husband having the affair he did it - and I was half right, the husband staged the kidnapping."

"I knew something was up with him!" You gasped, wrapping your arms around Roy's waist as you curled into his side, the hand that had just been holding yours pulling his blanket to cover your lap then moving to rest across your shoulders. "How was the husband involved? He didn't hurt the baby did he?" He used the palm of his hand to press your head against his chest, tucking your hair back behind your ear and then moving his hand to rest against your bicep, scratching his fingers gently into the exposed flesh there. "Oh my god, he didn't, like, get rid of it so he could be with the neighbour did he?"

"Slow down, slow down," Roy shushed, folding the corner of the page he was on, something so close to the end of the book you could count the pages if you tried. He pressed a chaste, warm kiss to the crown of your head, placing the book down beside him on the couch. "Let me explain, Angel." Roy's other hand, now free from holding the book, cradled your chin gently, tilting your head up so he could press a tender kiss to your lips. "So Anne's dad-"

Another gasp slipped past your lips. More then anything, you wanted to let Roy explain the plot of what he'd been reading, but his nightly updates had kept you on the edge of your seat. Despite not having read a single page, apart from the 2 chapters you read aloud to Roy earlier in the week when he was feeling a little under the weather, you were completely and utterly enthralled; desperate to know how it ended. Besides, this daily discussion was the highlight of your days. No matter how good or bad your day had been, if you'd gone out of your way to ignore each other or talked nonstop: Roy still talked and you still listened. "What did Anne's dad have to do with it?"

"You'll see." He chastised, pressing a kiss to the tip-of your nose before continuing with his explanation. "Marco assists in kidnapping the baby, why? Because his business is going out of money and he plans on faking a ransom note for asking for the exact amount of money he needs to pay up to save his business." Roy slid his hand under the blanket, pulling your legs up and into his lap as you brought your head up from against his chest. Threading your fingers through his hair, you looked at him confused. "Anne's parents are rich, remember? But they won't give him the money so he stages this kidnapping to force them to pay the ransom."

"No." You gasped, you hand clapping against your mouth. "Why wouldn't they give their son in law the money? They do know it directly affects their daughter and grand-daughter, right?"

"They won't give him the money because they don't like him, so get this, the guy who convinced Marco to stage the kidnapping was hired by Anne's dad." Roy laughed at the gasp you let out, you completely enthralled with the story and him completely enthralled with you. He always was. "Anne's dad staged the whole thing because he wanted Anne and Marco to split up. And just when you think everything's okay because they got the baby back; Anne murders the neighbour because she had been having an affair - with Anne’s dad.”

You were practically jumping in your seat.

Sometimes you wish you had the same amount of patience as Roy so you could actually sit down and read with him. Most of the time, however, you were more then happy to listen to him passionately talk you through what he was reading, were happy to watch that wonderful smile you loved so much curl onto his lips.

"But!"

"But-" you repeated after Roy, pressing a kiss to his cheek, urging him to hurry up with his ending; you were waiting to hear it.

"But, Anne doesn't remember killing the neighbour, so there is this whole unreliable light cast on the whole story; it might not have even happened!" Roy expected to find you staring at him in shock, some commentary on what you think happened on the tip of your tongue, but it never came.

Instead, he found you staring at him with complete adoration, like you'd watched him mould the galaxies in his hands, hang the stars in the sky and spin the world on his fingernails. To you, he did, he really did. You leant forward a little, using the hand that you'd tangled in Roy's hair to pull him closer to you so that you could press your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tender, something that Roy, ever intense, had really come to enjoy through out your relationship; you brought out this entirely different side to him that he wasn't even sure existed until he met you.

"I love you." You murmured against his lips, going in for another quick peck before you pulled away, gracing him with the sight of a smile. "I love how passionate you get when talking about the stuff you love, and that smile - ugh that smile, Roy - you're killing me here."

Roy was certain he was doing the right thing. So certain, in fact, that he'd bought the ring the day you got together: Phoebe's accusation in your living room that you were getting married telling him everything he needed to know. The life Roy had dreamed of was right before him, all he had to do now was take it. "Marry me."

"What?" The hand that had began to caress his cheek as you kissed and the hand in his hair stilled; your entire body stilled in fact, and as quickly as he'd become confident enough to ask the question, he'd become nervous again.

"Fuck, what I meant was; will you marry me?" Roy shuffled underneath you, pulling out a ring box from somewhere behind him, though you weren't sure where considering you knew his pyjama bottoms didn't have pockets. "I'm not the kind of guy for a big speech thing, but I wish I was because you fucking deserve that kind of thing. You deserve a lot more then I can ever give you, actually, and yet you still love me day in and day fucking out. I'll admit, sometimes I don't get why you do."

"Roy..." You whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as you moved both of your hands to cradle his face.

"But you do. And I'd truly, really, be the luckiest man in the world, if you would marry grumpy, old me." Tears had formed in Roy's own eyes, the pair of you totally overwhelmed by the intimate and tender moment. You'd never been more in love with Roy then right now. "Please fucking say yes, I'm an absolute mess without you"

"Yes, please." You whispered, hands still cradling Roy's face even though your eyes remained on the ring in front of you. It was as if he'd peeked inside your brain and made the perfect ring; it was simple yet elegant and entirely you, it was really perfect. This time, you answered louder. "Please, yes."

You pulled Roy's face to you, pressing a firm and hot kiss to his lips. You let your hands leave his face, sliding up and over his cheekbones until you reached his hair, twisting your fingers into it and pulling him even tighter against you, deepening the kiss as you did. "A million times yes, Roy, yes, yes, yes." Tears had begun to freely flow down your cheeks, though there was not an ounce of sadness to them. You were insurmountably happy - over the fucking moon. "I'd say yes in every fucking language in the world if I could. I love you Roy." You bit your lip back between your teeth, trying to contain your smile since your cheeks burned. "Mrs Kent." A giggle slipped past your lips. "That's me."

"Fuck yeah, that's you." Roy growled, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to your lips. His grip in your hair allowed him to tilt your head back slightly, giving him the perfect angle to push his tongue past your lips with a tug of his hand on your hair. If he had already put the ring on your finger, he'd have picked you up and taken you to bed then and there with the moan you let out. "Now, Mrs Kent, you going to let me put this ring on your fucking finger or what?"

~*~

You were thankful Roy had proposed on a Friday night; not only because that meant you didn't have to worry about how late he kept you up or how quickly you needed to regain the ability to walk straight, but because it gave you the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday to figure out how to tell your friends. Phoebe and Molly were coming over for dinner later that night, but you had a slight feeling you weren't actually going to have to say anything to them - you had no doubt Roy had consulted Molly over it, and Phoebe, well, you just knew she'd pick up on it the second she saw you.

"C'mere." Roy groaned beside you, not giving you the chance to move yourself before he was wrapping one arm around your waist and the other under your thigh. He slid you across the bed with ease, years of training still paying off despite the fact he hadn't played on a pitch in nearly 4 years now. Placing the leg he'd grabbed over his own leg, he pulled you flush against him, chest pressed to chest. "Good morning, Angel, sleep good?"

Roy's voice had a deeper edge then usual to it in the morning. "Always do when I'm with you, Handsome." You purred, gently scratching your fingers against his chest. "Although I've got this awful kink in my neck, must’ve slept funny."

"I can think of a few other kinks you've got." Roy murmured against your shoulder, pressing open mouthed kissed along it and up your neck. When he nipped at the sensitive skin just under your ear, you pushed yourself away from him, not out of want, but out of necessity.

"We've got guests in a few hours, remember?"

"I can do a lot in an hour alone." Given how late the two of you had been up doing things, you'd slept in till lunch, but that didn't make the sound of sleepy and slow morning sex with Roy any less appealing. God, the thought of it alone had you wanting to cancel everything ever and stay here forever.

"Hmm, that you can do." Pulling his head out of the crook of your neck, you pressed a kiss to his lips, tangling your hands into Roy's hair and trying impossibly hard to get even closer to him. "Show me what you got, coach."

A growl rolled out of Roy's throat and he was quick to get started on his own assault of your lips, fully using the position he'd pulled you into to his advantage.

~*~

After everything the two of you spent your early afternoon doing, you only had 2 hours to make sure everything was ready for when Molly and Phoebe showed up, and since your cooking skills ended at turkey dinosaurs and pizza, you left most of the work down to Roy. He let you help prepare ingredients, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand guiding your hand to cut things a specific way. But when the time came to actually cook the meal, he guided you out of the kitchen, encouraging you to go and get ready with a soft kiss; one to your cheek and another to your temple.

When you'd showered and gotten ready, you made it your turn to kick Roy out of the kitchen, promising not to touch anything unless he asked you to. You made sure to set the table all nice and proper for Phoebe and Molly's arrival, still slightly starstruck by the actual use of the dining table and not just eating dinner on your couch like you'd become so accustomed to before you and Roy moved in together. Sometimes though, especially when Phoebe stayed over, you'd all eat dinner together on the sofa, spy kids playing in the background, for old times sake. And before you knew it, you'd heard the knock at the door.

Swinging the door open, you knelt down immediately, sweeping Phoebe into your arms and hugging her tightly. With her head tucked in between your shoulder and neck, you stuck out your left hand at Molly, wriggling your ring finger enthusiastically. Phoebe squealed your name, wrapping her little arms tightly around your neck; even though you'd seen her two days ago when you picked her up from school, she still missed you as much as if she hadn't seen you for a million years.

As you went to stand back up, phoebe kept her grip on your neck, a silent plea for you to pick her up. Even at 9 years old, she still loved being paraded around in your arms, taking full advantage of your love for her and her love of being close to you. You pulled Molly into the house by the hand, kicking the door shut with your foot and leading them to the kitchen, where Roy was finishing up dinner.

"Hi, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe opted to stay in your arms instead of wiggling out of them to give Roy a 'hello' hug, knowing he was busy cooking and shouldn't be interrupted.

"Hey Phoebe, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes, okay? Why don't you go and grab your phoebe mug from your room before we all sit down?" When you and Roy moved in together, it was a unanimous decision that Phoebe needed her own room in your house; and when you were moving her things from Roy and your separate houses into your new house you got her a 'phoebe mug' as a housewarming gift. It was a bright pink ceramic mug, her name written once by you on the front and once by Roy on the back - it was the only thing she would drink out of when she was at your house.

The second phoebe had slipped out of the room, you turned to Molly with a squeal, the two of you grabbing tightly onto each other and jumping around the kitchen. Roy watched fondly as the two of you gushed over the ring Molly had already seen a thousand times. She took your hand in hers, running her finger over the ring with a featherlight touch, tears filling her waterline. Molly grabbed your hand and pulled it over her shoulder, hugging you again, though this time more tenderly, more teary-eyed.

"I'd say welcome to the family, but I think you've been a part of it since the day you met Phoebe." Tears began to fill your own eyes at the words she whispered against the shell of your ear. "You make him so happy, so, so happy, and that's all I could ever want for Roy. It's all I ever way for you." Molly pulled away from the hug, wiping her thumb under your eye as your tears threatened to spill over. "He loves you. We all do. I love you."

"I love you too, Molly." Just as quickly as she'd pushed you away, you pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly as though it would convey everything you were feeling. It did.

At the sound of feet running down your hallway, Molly jumped away from you, quickly wiping at her own eyes before turning to face her little girl. She gently took the mug from her hands and passed it to you, ushering her to the dining table while you and Roy plated up.

"What did she say to you?" Roy asked, knocking his hip against yours as he he started putting food into each plate.

You pulled Phoebe's favourite cordial off your shelf, pouring some in then moving past Roy to get to the sink to dilute it. "Nothing." He couldn't see the smile that formed on your face as you thought on what your future sister in law had said to you moments prior. "Just that she loves me, she loves you. That she's happy for us."

Roy wrapped an arm around you from behind as he came to join you at the sink, leaning past you to put his cooking tongs in. "I can't wait to see Phoebe's reaction." Roy murmured against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss there then spinning you around to face him. "She absolutely adores you. She's gonna be over the fucking moon."

"Not more over the moon then me." You pressed another kiss to his lips, making sure to keep the cordial far away from you and Roy incase it spilled.

Roy turned his back on you, picking up two of the bigger plates. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh really?" You asked, picking up the final big plate and Phoebe's smaller own. "I get to marry the love of my life and be officially related to some of the people I love the most. I think I win."

"We'll see." With one last kiss the two of you headed towards the dining table, all four of you tucking into dinner and telling each other about your weeks like clockwork; though you and Roy refrained from one pretty big event till after dinner.

When your food was all finished, you'd given Phoebe a bigger bowl of ice cream then usual, immediately prompting her to be suspicious. "Either I've been really good at school this week, or you guys have done something really bad."

"It's not like that Pheeb's, we're actually celebrating." Phoebe's head perked up at that as she mentally checked it wasn't anyone's birthday, or 'uncles day,' or Mother's Day, or 'future aunties day' (as she'd dubbed it) and she'd forgotten. When she ruled that she definitely hadn't forgotten anything, she turned to you in wait.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Me and your uncle Roy-"

"Holy shit." Smiles crept on all three of your faces as Phoebe pieced it together in her mind. "Are you getting married? Please tell me you're getting married?"

"Are getting married." As you brought your ring adorned hand up for her to see, Phoebe burst into tears, jumping off of her seat and running around to the other side of the table where you and Roy sat. She was quick to climb into Roy's lap, wrapping one arm around each of your knecks to pull you into a hug.

"This is the best day of my life." She whispered, her words coming out in a whine as she tried desperately hard to keep her tears in. "Do I get to be a flower girl?"

"Of course you get to be the flower girl, what kind of fucking question is that?" Roy scolded though a smile remained on his face, you wouldn't have anyone one else as your flower girl. Your niece was barely walking and besides, not that you'd ever admit it with them present, but you much preferred Phoebe to any blood relative you had.

Phoebe's face turned into a frown at Roy's words. "You owe me £1, uncle Roy."

"After the S-bomb you dropped before? I think we're even."

~*~

When Monday rolled around, you were extremely nervous. It wasn't that you thought any of the people at Nelson road would react badly to your engagement, you knew non of them would, you were nervous in the way you are at 8 years old on Christmas Eve - in a giddy way when you can't wait for what you feel to be shared.

You'd come up with a plan in bed the night before - announce it to Beard first, then to the boys, and then you'd make your way up to Rebecca's office to announce it to her, Higgins and Keeley (who'd you thankfully knew would be at the dog track this morning for a meeting).

To execute step 1 with no interruptions, you made sure to arrive an hour earlier to work then you usually would - knowing that Beard liked to show up early and the boys would show up as close to practice as they could get away with. Just as you expected, Beard was alone in the office, only a couple of other people in the building at all, making for an easy entrance.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you two showing up earlier then you ever have in the 5 years I've known you." Beard asked, his feet perched high up on his desk and an open book dropped against his chest.

"I needed to ask you something, actually." Roy wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, silently encouraging you to ask what you wanted to ask.

"Fire away, Katniss."

"I actually wanted to ask, um, well, if you'd walk me down the aisle?"

Beard stilled, then took a shaky breath, then stilled again. He slowly picked up the book from his chest, dog-eared the page and swung his feet down from his desk, standing and crossing the room so that he could stand in front of you. "You, you-" Another shaky breath. "You want me? Me? To walk you down the aisle?"

"Yeah. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a father and-"

Beard pulled you into a hug, something he'd never done before, and tentatively wrapped his arms under yours, pinning you against him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and though you'd never been a big fan of the scent, you found right now that you'd happily bask in it forever. "Yes, of course I will, it'd be an honour."

No further words were exchanged between the two of you until he pulled away, quickly wiping at his eyes before turning to Roy with a scowl. "I can fight, just so you know." He took a step closer to him, and you swore you'd never seen Roy so afraid as when Beard stuck a firm finger in his chest. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." Then he retreated to his chair, picking up his book and replacing it against his chest. "So when were you thinking? I always thing spring is the best time for a wedding."

The three of you discussed everything from what date you were thinking to ideal song choices while you waited for the changing room to fill up, wanting to make sure everyone had arrived before you shared the news. When Roy had done his 6th head count and found everyone had arrived, he nodded towards the door, asking if you were ready to go and tell everyone. You nodded, letting Roy lead the way and hanging in the doorway of the coaches office until Beard was at your side.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know. He's never hurt me once, I don't think he's going to start now."

Beard folded his arms across his chest then nudged you gently in the side as the the two of you came to stand next to Roy, him shouting 'whistle,' silencing the changing room. "Hey, that's what dads are for."

"Before I start, someone grab Nate and Will from the boot room." Jamie, being closest to the boot room, dashed in and right back out, Will and Nate right behind him. "Right. Angel, the floor is yours."

You thanked Roy before turning back to the boys, all of them waiting anxiously as they waited to see what you had to say that was so important Roy had even called Will and Nate out. "I need to know if you're all available next June - we're talking the end of June, early July." Thankfully, your job at Richmond often required planning things far in advance, even if far in advance was a year away, so no one expected anything as you started to speak. "I know it's the off season but I need you all here, in Richmond. Especially Colin."

"Why especially me?" Colin asked, one hand nervously wringing the other.

"Because I absolutely refuse to get married if my man of honour won't be able to make it."

The whole changing room erupted into a chorus of gasps, quickly followed by cheers and players and kitmen alike swarming you and Roy with hugs and cries of congratulations - which, for once, he actually entertained.

Colin was the first to reach for you to pull you into a hug, his hands shaking as he did. "You really want me to be your man of honour? At your wedding?"

"Of course I do, Col." It didn't get any less tearful asking people to be apart of your wedding. "Your my best friend. I love you." No sooner then Colin had pulled you into another hug had you been torn out of it, by a very excited Jamie.

"I can't fucking believe it me. Well, I can actually, but I also can't." He pulled you in for an even tighter hug then Colin had, probably down to the fact he had more excitement then nerves coursing through his system. "Feels like yesterday me and Phoebe were sat on your couch convincing you Roy did love you, and now look at yous."

"Will Phoebe be at the wedding?" Isaac had spun you out of Jamie's hold and into his, keeping one arm around your shoulder as he spoke to you. "Cause I don't want to be the only person eating the turkey dinosaurs; there will be turkey dinosaurs right?"

"Of course there will be, Isaac." Will pulled you out from under Isaac's arm and into a sweet, although brief, hug. "Right? Otherwise I might have to RSVP no."

"Im sure it can be arranged, what, with all of Roy's footballer money." The two laughed at your words, though a certain footballer turned coach found them more amusing.

"All my footballer money, huh?"

"I hope the fact I'm only marrying you for your money doesn't make you want to call off the wedding." You teased, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Roy's neck.

He pressed a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, ignoring the teasing shouts and cheers from his team. "Hmm, you're lucky you're cute." Roy pressed another kiss to your lips, paying no mind to the curious stares of the team around him. Though when they began to linger for a minute too long, he pulled away from you with a sigh. "Right, 50 laps, all of you." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "Now!"

Roy intertwined his fingers with yours, waving a goodbye to Beard but promising to be back before the boys had finished their 50 laps.

Keeley had reacted just how you expected her to - with many screams and squeals and a tight hug that nearly knocked you off the ground. Rebecca and Higgins were much more reserved in their responses but each offered a hug and a congratulation's to the happy couple. Roy kept your fingers intertwined the whole time, squeezing your hand tight each time someone reached out for a hug but putting up with their love otherwise.

You couldn't wait to marry him.

~*~

Knowing that the off season would start around  the beginning of June, you'd decided early on the last week of June was the perfect time for the two of you to get married. And while the end of June was still a month and a half away, you were seriously considering calling the wedding off.

When you'd found out you were pregnant in February, you knew you had to keep it a close secret until you'd finished the first trimester, just incase anything happened to you or the baby, and each week since you'd found out you kept swearing to yourself you were going to tell Roy. You still hadn't. Which brought you to right now, where you were crying on the floor of your ensuite bathroom at the dead of night, at just over 12 weeks pregnant and a baby bump beginning to show.

Given the cold weather of early spring you'd kept it hidden pretty well so far, but with the progressively warmer weather, it was getting harder and harder to hide. Above that, you were now very much aware that since the baby bump had appeared, it was only going to get bigger - and you were in absolute tears over wether or not you were still going to fit into the outfit you'd picked. While your choice of outfit for your wedding wasn't anything extravagant, it made you feel extremely pretty, and hugged you in just the right way - it wouldn't if you were four months pregnant and with a baby bump that you felt was the size of Saturn.

One particularly loud sob had you clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping and praying to anything out there that Roy hadn't heard you. You didn't want him stressing, especially when you were crying over trivial things considering the life you'd always dreamed was within your grasp.

Roy's eyes blinked open though he wasn't entirely sure why, however, when he rolled over and attempted to wrap his arms around you, he was met with cold and empty sheets. The cool feel of the sheets beneath his fingers had him shooting awake; clearly you'd been out of bed a while, and considering it was pushing 2am, his first thought was that you were sick. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

Slowly, he made his way towards your en-suite bathroom, rubbing at his eyes to get him to wake up quicker. Pushing the door open, his entire being froze at the sight of you crying on the bathroom floor, him immediately falling to the ground next to you and pulling you into his lap. One hand brushed your hair out of your face while the other cupped the back of your head, pressing it into the crook of his neck. "It's okay Angel, I'm here, I'm here."

It took Roy roughly 15 minutes of rocking you gently in his arms and whispering soothing words into your hair before your sobs calmed down enough that you could talk without your words turning into a whimper. "C'mon Angel, talk to me." The way Roy oh so gently cradled your face had tears springing to your eyes again. "Or is it about me? Do you want me to call Molly? I'm sure she wouldn't mind-"

"No, it's about me." A fresh set of tears were rolling down your cheeks, but the heaving sobs that had been coming from your chest before ceased. "It's me, I've ruined everything."

"Angel..."

"I just wanted to wear a nice fucking outfit on my wedding day, and I can't, and its making me so sad it's stupid." Roy's thumb continuously wiped at the tears that were furiously running down your cheeks. "And it makes me even more sad because, because, I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm sad over something stupid like what I can wear."

"It's not stupid, Angel face." Roy murmured against your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin familiar and comforting. "Nothings stupid if it makes you so upset. Just talk me through it, yeah? Why can't you wear what you picked? Did it get damaged or something?"

"No, no, it's fine, it's just- it won't fit me anymore." Roy pressed a kiss to your temple, immediately spouting words of reassurance that it would still fit you and if it didn't he'd hire the best tailor in the world to make it fit and that regardless, you'd look incredibly beautiful no matter what you wore. You shook your head gently. "It's not that Roy, it's, I'm-"

You readjusted yourself in Roy's lap, turning so that your legs were either side of his, caging him in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking down at the bump you could just see through one of Roy's old jerseys you'd fallen asleep in, while you avoided his concerned gaze. "It's not going to fit me anymore, because I'm pregnant, Roy."

Silence filled the bathroom.

When you finally gained the courage to look up at Roy, tears were pooled in his eyes, that wonderful smile of his making the most tender appearance you'd ever seen. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, mumbling the two words over, and over, and over again. "You're pregnant."

Before you could ask Roy if he was okay, he was pressing his lips to yours, allowing the tears to fall from his eyes though without the noise of a sob. He simply kissed you over, and over, and over again, only pulling away when he could no longer contain the smile that what pulling at his lips. Your hands cradled his cheeks, wiping away each tear gently with the pad of your thumb. "I can't believe I'm crying." He scoffed, though didn't move away from to ur touch as you continued to wipe away his tears.

"If it makes you feel any better, I find the vulnerability of it incredibly hot."

One of Roy's hands moved from the side of your thighs to cup your cheek, pushing hair back behind your ear as a watery smile took over his face.

"You know," Roy paused, tenderly running his fingers up and down the side of your neck as his hand slipped down from your cheek to hold you there. "If you'd come to me 5 years ago, back when Ted and Beard first started, and told me in 5 years time I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of? And, with the gorgeous woman from the office outside the changing rooms? I would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off." After a moments thought, he added. "I probably wouldn't have let anyone get close enough to me to tell me that in the first place, to be honest."

"Look how far you've come." You mused, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of Roy's neck as his tears slowly stopped. "Some might say that I've made you go soft.”

Roy laughed, head tilted back against the bathroom wall as he was prevented from throwing it back further. The tilt of his head upwards granted you the perfect position to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled at you softly, bringing his hand forward from the side of your neck so that he could cup your jaw. "To be loved, is to be changed." He hummed, his chest tightening as tears filled your eyes once more.

"I love you, Roy." You whispered, as though even saying it would break the sincerity of the words slipping from your lips. Although you'd said them a thousand times, it was like Roy was hearing it for the first time all over again. "Like I really, really love you Roy." Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. "So much... so much so that I feel like I'm never going to be able to express it enough, like if I don't get it out of me, I might die."

Roy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, sliding his hand back up your jaw and under your ear, tangling his fingers in the hair there. "I love you too, more then i ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.” Roy leaned in for another kiss then pulled away with a smirk as you ground yourself into him. "Want me to show you how much I love you, yeah?"

"Definitely."

Roy put his hands back to their original place under your thighs, slowly moving the two of you from your position on the bathroom floor to standing once more. When he was standing, you held in his arms with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you continued the clash of tongue and teeth you'd started moments again. However, before he could get started on showing you just how much he loved you, you leaned away from him, eyes running over his whole face. "You might have to hold off on doing that thing with your hips, y'know, because of the baby."

"I'll stop doing that when the doctor tells me to stop."

~*~

Fortunately for you, at your next check up the following Thursday, the doctor gave you the all clear - on the health of the baby and the fact Roy could continue working magic with his hips. Considering you were nearly 14 weeks along, the ultrasound technician had offered to let you know the gender of the baby, but both you and Roy had agreed that you didn't want to know. You so seriously didn't want anyone to know, in fact, that Roy made a show of ripping up the envelope that contained the baby's gender right in front of the ultrasound technician after she offered it out to you; her suggestion of a gender reveal dying on her tongue.

Roy had been nothing but attentive since he'd found out; moving at your beck and call even more then normal, so much so that people around Nelson road were beginning to notice.

"Alright, what's going on?" The second Roy left your office, Isaac, Colin and Will crowed into the room, locking the door behind them. If you weren’t such a veteran of their shenanigans, you'd be getting concerned. "Are you dying?"

"Why would I be dying?" You asked, clicking the email you'd been writing closed, giving the three lads your undivided attention.

"Roy's been following you, like, more then usual though." Isaac stated, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Weird, innit."

Before you could question what they found weird about you talking to and hanging around your fiancé, Will stepped forward, his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets. "You're pregnant, right? I'm like 80% sure you're pregnant."

Your hand came to rest against the small bump you'd concealed under your Richmond sweater.

"Holy fuck boyo." Colin gasped, smacking his hand into Will's chest. "She is. How did you know?"

"She's glowing." Isaac and Colin tilted their heads in sync while their gaze remained directly on you, as though they were trying to see what Will saw. When it appeared they couldn't, Will let out a sigh, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't know; maybe it's the lighting."

Silence took over your small office space, the four of you alternating between staring at each other and the hand that rested against your stomach.

"Angel, you got-" Roy paused at the sight before him, scanning the room with a pointed glare. While Isaac had had the sense to lock the main door to your office when he started his interrogation, it had seemed he had forgotten to lock the connecting door from your office into the changing rooms. You'd never been more thankful to be in an office with two doors.  After a few more seconds of assessment, he seethed out a "Fuck! Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?"

All three lads nodded in silence, scurrying from the room after a particularly harsh glare from Roy had told them they had overstayed their welcome in your office. As your head fell into your hands due to the stress of it all, Roy crossed the room, slipping his fingers into your hair and scratching gently at your scalp. "They're not going to tell anyone, Angel, don't stress."

"But, what-"

"No buts, or what if's, or anything." Roy chastised, pulling your head out of your hands and crouching down to meet you at eye level. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "We tell everyone when you're ready. And if that's after the wedding, then that's after the wedding." Roy pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "And that's that."

You let out a long sigh, weight lifted from your shoulders at Roy's gentle touch and soothing words. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice."

~*~

You were too scared to put your outfit on. After almost 10 months of planning every detail and waking up to see your engagement ring on your finger, you were finally getting to be Mrs Kent. And you were too scared to go out there and get dressed.

When Will, Colin and Isaac found out you were pregnant, it was on accident, but going out there, before your man of honour, bridesmaids, Phoebe and Beard to put on your outfit would be intentionally revealing your baby bump. It was so stupid, you thought, to be this worried about something that would make people happy - that would make you and Roy happy. But a small part of you just wanted things to work out how you'd planned then in your head; like being able to wear what you'd picked to marry the love of your life.

However, you wanted to get married to Roy more then you cared about keeping the baby a secret.

Everyone gasped as you walked into the main part of the hotel room. You'd forgone a dressing gown in favour of getting ready in the comfort of pyjama shorts and one of Roy's old jerseys, wanting to have a part of him with you even though you wouldn't see him the night before the wedding.

Roy had actually wanted to forgo the traditional 'no seeing the bride bullshit,' him in favour of spending every second he could get with you, but Keeley and Jamie had convinced him it would make that moment of you walking down the aisle all the more special. Though as you walked into the room, you'd wished more then anything you'd convinced Keeley to let him stay with you. All you wanted was his hand in yours as you did this.

All eyes fell to the shadow of a baby bump that could be seen through the loose material of Roy's jersey; it was the one he wore at his very first Richmond match, Kent printed and worn proudly on the back. No one moved or even dared to breath.

"Surprise?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but the tense silence and feel of everyone's eyes on you had you shying away from your friends and family in a way you'd never done before. "I'm pregnant!"

Molly was the first to move, crossing the length of the room and pulling you into an embrace. "I love you." She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm going to be an auntie." Within seconds the remaining people in the room swarmed you into one big group hug. Each of Colin, Keeley, Rebecca and Beard whispered congratulations to you, telling you just how beautiful you looked and how excited they were to see you walk down the aisle. Phoebe, however, pulled the funniest face at you, her brow tense in the spitting image of Roy.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Phoebe had magically broke the tension of the room, smiles all around as Molly and Keeley ushered you back to the other side of the door, helping you into your outfit and making sure your hair stayed in the way you'd styled it when you got changed. Fully dressed and feeling yourself, you stepped back into the main room with newfound confidence.

You were going to marry Roy - Roy who updated you on his book every night and valued your opinion on it, who still brought you lunch everyday at work, who was willing to hold you on the bathroom floor at 3am when he should've been sleeping, who made you feel like you were the only person in a room that mattered - and you couldn't be more excited.

Colin held your hand the entire drive from the hotel and the whole way from the car to the church doors. Only two pieces of wood separated you from everything you'd ever wanted. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek and wished you luck before heading inside, leaving just you and Beard outside the building.

"You nervous?" He asked, moving his hand so that it rested lovingly on the small of your back.

"It's Roy." Roy always made you nervous. From the smile that had you weak in the knees when he actually decided to show it, to the butterflies the simple movement of his fingers against your skin caused; Roy had you swooning every time he looked at you. "I can't wait to get in there."

"Can you wait a second?" Ted Lasso was stood behind you, hands bashfully tucked into suit pants pockets.

"Ted." You gasped, opening your arms but not leaving Beard's side. The American rushed towards you, scooping you into a tender hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it..."

"Well, you know how Roy is, stubborn, hard-headed," Ted had aged a little since you last saw him on English soil, but he still held that quintessential ted spirit to him; even though he looked a lot more tired then you ever remembered him being. "Will do anything for the people he loves. Even if that's calling someone everyday for 8 months straight and convincing them to clear their calendar."

Roy who called one of your favourite people daily until he convinced them to make time to come to your wedding despite the fact they'd have to fly halfway across the world to attend.

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ted." He pressed a kiss to your temple, unwrapping himself from you and flattening out the front of his suit.

"I'll see you in there." Ted walked to the doors Colin had entered through moments ago, stopping and turning back to you at the last second. "You look beautiful by the way, you're practically glowing." With a knowing wink, Ted slipped through the doors, finding the way to his seat to wait for the ceremony to begin.

"Well, I think we're really ready now." You mused, linking your arm though Beard's. When you turned to flash a smile at him, you saw eyes filled with fondness, tears threatening to cloud his vision if he thought about the scene before him for too long. "Aren't we Willis?"

"Lets go, sweetheart." The pet name struck you to your core, your hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance. There was no one else you'd want to walk you down the aisle. "You're getting married!"

The ceremony ran perfectly. Willis walked you down the aisle and handed you off to Roy after whispering what you were certain was a threat in his ear. Tears brimmed Roy's waterline the whole ceremony, but they didn't spill over under you were pronounced husband and wife. No one commented on the tears that ran down Roy's cheeks, and you didn't think anyone was ever going to bring it up; a mutual understanding settling over the room that the Roy Kent that stood at the alter wasn't Roy Kent football sensation, but that he was Roy Kent, loving husband.

All those years ago Jamie had been completely and utterly right, all Roy needed was someone to show him it was okay to be soft. Thankfully, he had found that in you.

~*~

"Nell, go back to sleep baby, daddy's here."

Roy had his back turned to you as he rocked Penelope in his arms, murmuring some song that you couldn't quite make out under his breath to help her get back to sleep. In the 4 weeks since Penelope - or 'Nell' as Roy had lovingly started calling her - had been born, Roy had more then proved himself to be the amazing dad you knew he would be. Though he'd voiced his worries about not being a good dad several times throughout your pregnancy, each time you'd soothed away the worry; scratching your fingers against his scalp and reminding him of everything he'd ever done for Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the most excited to meet the baby, begging her mum to let her come over every single day after school so that she could spend time with her newborn cousin (even though that time was mostly spent with Phoebe in your lap with Nell in hers).

The Boys at Nelson Road came in for a close second when it came to being excited to meet the baby. Will, Colin and Isaac had made it their duty to show up to you and Roy's house every day after training when you were 7 months along in order to paint the babies nursery and build all the furniture that you'd bought.

They were even worse when you went into labour.

Roy had called Beard to let him know the two of you wouldn't be able to make it to work that Tuesday, and Beard loaded up the coach for a group trip to Richmond's hospital. You had the whole of AFC Richmond crowded in the waiting room, arms filled with stuffed animals, balloons and flowers. Jamie had charmed up the nurse who you were charged to, convincing him to let all of the players into your room at once. While most of the team fawned over the baby, gave you their best wishes then made their way back to the coach, Colin, Isaac, and Will asked to hold her, tears filling their eyes as they took in the sight of the tiny baby.

"She's beautiful." Colin whispered, lightly running the tip of his finger up and down her button nose. "With your parents, you're going to be the coolest kid ever. And Uncle Colin is going to make sure of it."

"You know," Will whispered, stiff as a board as he held Penelope on his arms, scared to even breath less it hurt the baby. "I remember that day I saw you with Phoebe in Tesco, and I told you I didn't realise you were a mum." Roy shot you a confused glance, reminding you you'd never actually filled him in on your trip to the supermarket that day with Phoebe. "And now you are one. It almost doesn't feel real."

"I've never held a baby before." Isaac admitted, the most relaxed holding her despite his inexperience. "It's weird, innit. Like, this baby I'm holding right now started out nothing and now she's real and alive and in my arms…Spooky."

Jamie, however, you practically had to force to hold Nell; and even then he was scared shitless. When you managed to convince him to take a seat on your hospital bed, he seemed less tense about holding her, but the ever present crease in his brow told you otherwise. "She looks just like you."

"She's got Roy's nose, and I bet she'll have his eyebrows too."

Jamie's eyes never left the baby, even as the other boys slipped out of the room with one last goodbye and a promise to come and visit Nell again when you got sent home.

"Ask us what her full name is." Roy kicked Jamie's foot, finally snapping his attention away from the newborn.

"You what?”

Apparently, he hadn't been listening, the tender tone to Roy's voice leaving as soon as it had arrived. "I said ask us what her full name is, fuckhead."

Jamie didn't ask you, he wasn't sure he could get the words out without choking up, the suggestion of the question springing tears to his eyes.

"Her full name is Penelope Jamie Kent." You hadn't seen Jamie so upset since Roy dragged him into your office, sobs wracking his body, two years ago before the journey up north to play against Manchester City at the Etihad.

He pulled Nell closer to his chest, hugging her as best as you could hold a baby, then passed her to Beard, pulling Roy in for the tightest hug you'd ever seen the two share. When Jamie came to hug you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear; "You've made Grandad go all soft." And after a brief pause. "The rest of us too."

Beard didn't stay long after Jamie left, knowing the coach was only waiting on him to return to training. He muttered something under his breath, pressed a kiss to Nell's head and then handed her back to you, pressing a kiss to yours. "Jamie’s right. Spitting image of you. Though I do agree she has Roy's nose."

"I hope she gets his smile." You quietly confessed, not missing the way Roy's lips curled up into the wonderful  smile you loved so much. "We got something for you." Roy pulled out a gift bag from next to your 'we need to go to the hospital the baby is coming' bag and handed it to his fellow coach. Beard waisted no time opening the gift, a soft smile curling on his lips as he pulled out the mug, 'worlds best grandad' printed on the front and a Richmond crest printed on the back. "I love you...dad."

A tear silently ran down Beard' cheek but he didn't wipe it away, pulling you and the baby in for a group hug. After a tight squeeze, he opened up his arms, a silent invite for Roy to join. He did so without question, thanking Willis for everything.

Beard had used the mug at Nelson Road everyday since.

Nell had made a total of 3 visits so far to Nelson Road; every Thursday afternoon being the day you'd come to the dog track with her and disrupt afternoon training so that the boys could fawn over her as an end of the week treat. Tomorrow would be her 4th visit, and yet, Roy had been the one to wake up and tend to her when he'd have to be up in a few hours to coach Jamie and you could essentially sleep in until 12 and still be on time.

As he put Nell back inside her cot, you wrapped your arms around his waist and slid them up and under the front of his t-shirt. "You're such a good dad, Roy."

"Only cause you make me a good dad." He turned around in your hold, your hands now up the back of his shirt, his arms now over your shoulders/

"That doesn't even make sense." You countered, resting your chin against his chest so that you could look at him. Roy took the opportunity to press a slow and tender kiss to your lips.

"Fuck off, it totally does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

At a whine from Nell, the two of you fell silent, not wanting to wake her after Roy had just put her back to sleep.

"She know it makes sense." The two of your were looking down at Nell's tony from where she slept soundly in the crib.

"She's only agreeing cause it's you." You lowered your chin so that the side of your head rested against Roy's chest, giving you a better look at your beautiful baby girl. "She's a total daddy's girl already, you know."

"Gets that from her mother." Roy paused after he spoke, realising quickly that his words hadn't made much sense or come out in the way he intended. "I meant, she's a total me, girl. Like she loves me a lot because you love me a lot. Fuck."

"I knew what you meant, handsome."

Roy quirked his eyebrow at your response. "You did huh?" He swept you off your feet, literally, carrying you back to your bedroom with a slip in his step.

You hand slapped against his bicep, a gasp slipping from your lips as your pieced together Roy's words paired with his suggestive tone and that glint in his eye. "The doctor said no sex for 6 weeks, Roy."

"No penetrative sex for six weeks." Roy clarified, laying you down on the mused bedsheets and kissing his way down your form; starting with scrapes of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck, all the way down to the thick skin of your thighs. "The guy said nothing about oral."

an : thanks for reading this far *mwah* I love you <33 I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please feel free to send in a request for Roy or Jamie I'd love to write it!!!

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

pairing: knight!marcus acacius x princess!reader

pinterest board inspo

summary: an arranged marriage in the works. one on one jousting for your honor. celebratory feasts and extravagant dances. it all seemed exciting. however, as a princess with your mind on becoming a Dame, along with your father's main knight making sure you are always on your best behavior, some dreams are just meant to be crushed.

warnings: MINORS DNI, big age gap [reader is 19 and marcus is 54], slowwww burn, medieval times au, possible historical inaccuracies [maybe ??], reader has hair long enough to braid, father-daughter relationship issues, first kiss, forbidden love, non-sexual touching, flirtatious banter, allusions to sex, sword fighting, TW: major character death, TW: blood and gore, angst angst angst

wc: 21.6k (i maayyyyy have gone a bit overboard with this one)

notes: this is my submission for @almostfoxglove 's angst writing challenge (beautiful moodboard created by her). i'm not gonna lie, this is gonna be ANGSTYYYYYYY. so please, grab your tissues and hold on for dear life. sword divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

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follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you exerted yourself once more. Swinging the heavy sword almost the same length as your body and slamming the blade repeatedly onto the side of the wooden post right by the outskirts of the woods. Blisters had begun to form on your palms from the improper protection needed, but the care you had for gloves was thrown to the back of your mind. Little grunts heavily exhaled from your throat each time you swung the sword down and around, further adding slice and slice into the mangled wood post. Feeling the burning sensation in your chest intensify, you had decided now would be a good time to rest.

You placed yourself on the nearest rock and laid the sword across your lap. Gently stroking your blistered thumb over the engraved markings of your older deceased brother's name towards the handle. He lost his life like a true knight in battle. His death was so long ago but it felt like yesterday. You remembered the morning he left. He had hoisted you up into his arms with the promise that he would return. When Marcus Acacius, your father's knight, returned back to the castle with your brother's bloodied sword in his hands, you knew. Almost a decade long feud with no success or improvement. With your brother's sword now in your possession, even though your father doesn't approve of a princess having such a manly hobby, it was your goal to finish what he started. Whether your father, the king, liked it or not, you would rather die fighting than be married off.

"Why am I not surprised that I would find you here, princess?"

Turning at the sound of the distinct voice that is of Knight Acacius, you observe the way his lips quirk into a tired grin. One of his arms lays limp at his side while the other rests on the handle of his sword attached to his hip. He wears only his chest plate with the yellow markings of your father's castle, as well as an engraved crow. It was the same as the flags that hung around the interior and exterior.

"Why am I not surprised that you would follow me out here, Marcus?" You retort, nose scrunching at the sound of his deep laughter from your sassy question.

He comes closer now, eyeing the wood post that has been abused from your sharp sword. Marcus has been your father's knight since before you were born. He had started as an esquire when he was just a teen boy. Your grandfather had been king at that point. When the title was passed down to your father, he deemed Marcus as worthy of getting a ranking higher. He earned the title, of course. Knight Acacius was a hardworking man. He did what needed to be done in a timely manner. He kept you and your father safe. He did everything to keep the king happen, and you could see that it was paying off.

"Your father sent me to get you. It's time for you to get ready for the tournament," he tells you quietly, already knowing your opinions on the matter.

When you let out a scoff at his words, Marcus nods to himself as if to say 'Yep, there it is.' There's a long beat of silence as he waits for you to gather your thoughts and express them through words. Unlike your father, Marcus has always been a patient man, which works perfectly with his title. There have been long nights after hours where you've poured your heart out to him; your unhappiness, your fears, your worries, your dreams. He always lent you an ear and shoulder to cry into you.

"Tournament," the word was bitter on your tongue. With an eye roll that made Marcus hold back a chuckle, you stood up and made your way back to the post. "You mean the sad excuse of a competition where men compare whose cock is the biggest for me to suck?"

Marcus choked on his spit at the vulgarity of your words. When you looked over your shoulder and gave him a teasing smile that expressed your youth, he took a half step back with widened eyes. He shook his head at himself and cleared his throat to make it feel less constricted. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he sweating? Why are his hands trembling? All of which had happened after you shot him that teasing little smile if yours. Oh, this was bad.

Wincing once again as one of the maidservants snagged your hair accidentally, you couldn't help but to grow annoyed. Not at the older woman, but at the idea that princesses are supposed to always be prim, proper, and innocent. She apologized softly with a guilty smile at you in the mirror. Like Marcus, Celeste had been in your family for a long time. You saw her almost as a mother figure. Closer to your father's age, Celeste had stepped up in helping your father raise you and your brother after the death of your mother. She had succumbed to her injuries during your birth, and you always felt like your father harbored a deep animosity towards you.

"I know you're not fond of these braids, princess," she tells you quietly, her wrinkly eyes glancing at you briefly before looking down at her fingers in your hair. "But it's just for today."

Letting out a small, soulless laugh, you tell her, "Father always has a trick or two up his sleeve, Celeste. You know that. Marcus knows that. The whole castle knows that. He may say one thing and mean another. That's just how he is, I guess." The little shrug you give her makes her tut.

"I do know," she says quietly, reaching over your shoulder to grab a few flower stems to slide them into your braids, almost creating a delicate flower crown. "And I also know that this is not the life you see for yourself."

You look at her in shock through the mirror. She gives you barely a nod and cascades the rest of your hair behind your back to comb through the wavy strands. There are a few beats of silence as you sit and wonder. Has Marcus gone behind your back and told her your secrets? Has she overheard one of the nights where you and the knight sat in seclusion? Has she read your diary? All of these questions are rushing through your mind before you could stop them. What if she tells your father? What if he isolates you permanently?

"I know what you're thinking and it's not true," she speaks up when she sees your eyes darting back and forth frantically. She feels your shoulder deflate with relief. She stops brushing your hair and rests her chin atop your head. You both look at each other in the mirror. "Your mother was a very intimidating woman. That's what drew your father in and made him fall in love with her. He sees so much of her in you, and that's why he's trying to hold onto you as tight as he can for the time being."

Feeling a tickle in your nostrils and a lump forming in your throat, your eyes shut before you could let tears spill over the bottom lid.

"I... I can't go on like this, Celeste," you whisper brokenly, finally turning in your seat to look up at her. Your breathing becomes shuddering as the emotions begin to overwhelm you. "I wasn't born to become a wife." You started to become angrier the more you spoke. "I'm not a child anymore! No man shall tell me what to do! Not my father, not Marcus, not any other king or prince! I was put on this earth to fight like William!" Uttering your brother's name from your trembling lips finally let the dam break.

Celeste was quick to bring you into her arms, hushing you softly and tenderly holding your head against her chest. Your shoulders shook with each sob that wracked through your body. You were exhausted and honestly, scared. Maybe this was really it. Maybe your dreams will always be dreams. You're going to die as a wife and not as a warrior.

"Oh, dear child," Celeste whispers and pulls your head from her chest to gently hold your cheeks, her thumbs swiping away the tear tracks so as to not ruin your light makeup. "You are going to do great things. And you are going to be a great woman. It will take time, but you will see it happen. Now, give me a smile."

Hearing her encouragement and reassurance, feeling the safety in her arms, you were finally able to calm down and steady your breathing. As she swipes a knuckle under your eye to wipe away a lonesome tear, you give her a little smile and laugh to yourself at your outburst.

"There she is," she smiles as well, her wrinkles much more prominent. She fixes your makeup and turns you back around to face the mirror. Your hair falls over your shoulders on either side, the ends curled elegantly. You really do look like a true princess. In another world, you would've been happy. But you didn't look, nor did you feel like yourself. However, the proud look on Celeste's face silenced those thoughts. "You look just like your mother when she was your age."

There was a gentle rapt at the door. Celeste called out for them to enter, and it was Marcus. He gives the older woman a nod before he sets his eyes on you. When you make eye contact with him through the mirror, it feels like time has slowed down. It feels like all the air had gotten knocked out of him, and he has half a mind to grab his chest as his heart nearly beats out of the flesh. Your cheeks warmed at his obvious attention to you. It was rare for him to see you looking like this. You never wore makeup, your hair was almost never done prettily, you loathed dresses. But sitting here right now looking like a princess, having his eyes on you made you feel beautiful for once. He didn't leer. Matter of fact, he never leered at you as though you were a piece of meat. Some of the feasts that your father has thrown in the past made you uncomfortable with the amount of unwanted attention you would get from men that were desperate to court you.

But it never felt like that with Marcus. He respected you. He respected how you perceived yourself, he understood your ambitions and what you can see yourself doing down the line. You were an inspiration to him. Princesses at your age are already married and having their second child by now. Never would a princess touch a sword. But you handle one like an expert on the battlegrounds. Marcus would never admit it aloud, but he would love to see you fight. With your years of training, he knows for a fact that you would put up one hell of a fight. He only wishes your father was more accepting of that matter.

When you stand from your seat in front of the mirror, Marcus swallows down his gasp of awe. You wore a soft pink, floor length gown with white gold trimming that accentuated your curves. The neckline was low and tasteful, but nothing too extreme that would be considered inappropriate as a princess. The candlelight makes you glow like an angel. The flowers in your hair as well as the soft makeup adds to the delicacy. Celeste stands behind you to clip on a pearl necklace and some dangly earrings that match.

"Please, don't make fun of me," you give Marcus a small, embarrassed laugh as he still hasn't said anything upon seeing you. "You can make all the jokes you want after the feast, yes?"

Celeste tuts and lightly swats at your arm. The knight hasn't looked away from you. Even as you cross the other side of the room to grab your soft pink slippers with sewn beads that match the colors of your gown. You preferred your calf-high leather boots.

"Do you need a glass of water, Marcus? You look like you've seen a ghost," Celeste says behind your back as you bend down to slide on the surprisingly comfortable slippers.

He clears his throat when you look at him once again with a bashful smile. He takes a step forward to you. Without even realizing it, his hand reaches up to your hair to fix a flower stem that was out of place. It was until Celeste obnoxiously cleared her throat that he realized what he was doing. You both broke eye contact, both feeling like you were caught doing unspeakable acts. She stares at you with squinted eyes, then at Marcus. He shifts uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. He clears his throat again.

"The king, uh, requests your presence, my princess," he briefly stutters when you make eye contact again, but he looks away before it could reach two seconds.

My princess. He always called you 'princess,' or occasionally your name. But he never included 'my.' It caught you off guard, and you feel like Celeste noticed because she nods at Marcus and shoos him away. He gives her a brief nod and leaves the room. Now, it was just you and the older maidservant. As she gives you one last touch up, she looks at the door and then at you.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't."

And with that, she ushers you out the door.

Your cheeks were hurting from the number of fake smiles you were giving all the guests. Your arm was aching from shaking all the hands of other kings, queens, princes, princesses, and all the like. In the corner of the dining hall was a small band playing music. They each looked at peace playing their music. They looked in their element, doing what they enjoy. Envy clawed at your chest. Looking away with a scowl, you focused on your chalice filled with the finest wine brought specially from one of the kingdoms visiting for the feast. You can hear your father's boisterous laughter across the hall as he sits with one of the king's. His face was flushed, and you knew he's had more than a few cups of wine.

You sit on your designated throne and observe the party before you. One of the jester's stops in front of you. He does a little dance, the bells on his shoes and hat jingling. It brings a smile to your lips, and then you start laughing. Jesters were one of your favorite people to witness during these times. They offered a temporary distraction and left you feeling lighthearted. Upon hearing your laughter, the jester stops dancing goofily and reaches a hand up to you. Your hand enters his and he gently kisses the top before dancing away to entertain the other guests.

"Looks like you have an admirer," you hear from above your seated position.

You look up and see Marcus leaning against the top of your throne, his arm stretched across it with his thumb tapping at the carvings. He rests his other hand on the handle of his sword. You've noticed that it was a habit of his, even when there was no danger around. Grinning up at him, you shake your head.

"Well, it's better than having a spineless prince as an admirer," you tell him half-jokingly, taking a small sip of your wine and looking back to the crowd.

Marcus also observes the crowd silently. The king was talking to one of the queen's and her son, the older man motioning behind him in your direction. When the prince looks at you, Marcus can see you recoil. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Having been in the family for decades, he's grown fond of you. Being able to witness you grow into the beautiful young woman you are today was a blessing. Your personality shines even brighter. Your quick wit and sharp tongue often deemed him speechless. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the other princesses he has met in his lifetime. You weren't like the others.

"Well," he clears his throat to capture your attention once more. "At least you get to see these spineless princes joust for your honor and courtship. The one in the blue tunic looks like a starved lamb."

The insult causes you to choke on your wine, some of it spitting out and landing on your dress as you break into a bubbly fit of laughter. Marcus muffles his own laughter by biting down on his bottom lip. Your father claps his hands loudly and makes a motion for the band to ease their music completely.

"Attention, guests! As you all know, my dear daughter, the princess, is up for courtship. It is my duty as her father, the king, to ensure that she has a safe and fulfilling marriage. Which is why we are holding this tournament!" There was a round of applause, and you find it so hard to not roll your eyes. "For the one prince to earn the honor of courting my daughter, you must fight valiantly, live honorably, and go forth courageously!" There was another round of applause, some even whistling. "Now, please make your way out to the field and get comfortable while the princes get ready to joust!"

The crowd cheered one last time before some of your father's knights led them out to the roped-off enclosure outside of the castle. Marcus held a hand to you, gently grasping and pulling you up from your seat. The distance between your bodies was short. He can smell your sweet perfume and see the shimmering of your eyeshadow. He prays to the gods above that you couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating. If only he knew that you were feeling the same way. From how close he stood in front of you, the gray in his beard was much more prominent and his thick hair looked curlier than usual. He smelled like a mix of leather, musk, and a woodsy, scented oil he must've purchased from one the markets along the outskirts of the castle. It was overwhelming, having him so close to you. Your lips parted, and you caught the way his eyes darted down to look at them.

"My daughter," you hear your father's footsteps coming closer, and you step away from Marcus who quickly broke eye contact to greet your father. "You have stained your gown!"

You looked down and noticed the dark wine droplets. Giving your father a sheepish smile, you offer him a kiss on the cheek as an apology. He claps a hand on Marcus' shoulder, both men now falling into a conversation about the tournament for your hand in marriage. Celeste ushers you down from your throne, her left hand holding your right as her right arm is around your back.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at Knight Acacius," she tells you in a hushed voice. You look at her in shock, your lips parted to disagree. But when you see her pointed look, you decide to keep your mouth shut. Sighing quietly as you both round the corner of the stone halls, you speak up.

"It's not like that, Celeste," you tell her. "Marcus just... He knows how I feel about... all of this. It's all so overwhelming. There's nothing I can do to change my father's mind, so I might as well play the part as the obedient princess."

When you both reach outside, you can hear the faintness of Marcus' voice a few feet away from you with your father's voice in tow. You and Celeste stand beside each other in silence as you scan the crowd sitting in their seats around the dirt pit specifically for when the knights are training.

"You know," Celeste began. "Your mother never wanted this life for you either." You look at her with interest. She nods at the curiosity in your eyes.

Giving you her typical wink, she motions for you to climb the steps to sit in your throne. You were high up now, the pit directly in the middle of your view with the crowd on either side. Your father sits beside you with a huffed groan and affectionately pats your knee.

"We have quite the rally, don't we?" He sloppily drinks from his jeweled chalice. You cringe and look away. Marcus stands to your father's left with his arms crossed in position, his back straight and broad with authority. He feels eyes on him, and he turns to face you, dropping his right eye in a wink before looking straight ahead again. You look out into the crowd with warm cheeks as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from spreading.

Two of the esquires blew the fellow buisines to start the tournament. The crowd silenced as well as your father. Two princes on two horses came out of the small tunnel and stood on either side of a horizontal wooden post, both on opposite sides of each other, facing one another. Both men were dressed head to toe in armor with the feathered colors of their kingdom on top of their helmets. In their hands were wooden lances. There was a tense silence in the air as the princes readied themselves. When the buisines blew once more, both men charged at each other on their horses with the lances pointing at once another chest level.

There was a booming clang of wood against metal as the lance from the prince on the right slammed into the chest of the prince on the left. Some of the wood splintered and nearly exploded from the force. The crowd gasped and proclaimed with shock. The left prince fell off his horse and landed hard on the ground. The crowd clapped for him as the right prince galloped around the pit in a celebratory manner. His arrogant gloating was a turn-off. It worsened when he lifted his helmet and looked at you up above, blowing a kiss in your direction with his hand. You let out a scoff of disgust. Marcus hides his laugh by coughing into his fist.

There was another hour of this jousting. Then, there were the top two princes – the Prince of Ehnkhart and the Prince of Ivanard. Both princes were unappealing to look at and had the personalities of a wet rag. You'd rather marry one of the jesters.

When the Prince of Ivanard was deemed the winner, you almost had to fight back a gag as the bile grew at the back of your throat. You certainly were not going to marry that yellow-toothed, spineless bastard. Your father bellowed in his seat happily as the crowd roared with delight when the prince threw his fist into the air and pointed at you. Glancing at Marcus with an expression he could only describe as horror, his face morphed into something grim. He bit his tongue to stay silent. He couldn't say anything, even if he wanted to. That was not his duty as a knight. And one of the main priorities was to never go against the king under any circumstances.

"My dearest daughter," your father lets out a full bellied laugh as he takes both of your hands in his. "You are now going to be an Ivanard!"

When the buisines blew in a celebratory manner, the crowd cheered louder as your father clapped. Everything was booming and overwhelming. You can feel it all closing in on you. Your ears began ringing and your breathing became shallow and unsteady. Sweat dotted along your hairline. Your eyes frantically scanned the crowd for Celeste, needing her kind eyes to lay upon your frightful ones and her motherly touch. The vibrations of the crowd stomping their feet could be felt underneath your own.

"My daughter, come and meet your husband! He is most excited to see you!" Your father yanked you up roughly before you had time to register what was happening.

"Your daughter is even more beautiful up close, your majesty," the Prince of Ivanard tells your father as he snatches your hand and kisses your knuckles with his dry lips. The feel of his thick ginger beard had you snatching your hand away. He looks at you with surprise and offense.

Your father laughs awkwardly and roughly pats your shoulder. "She's just a bit shy. Aren't you, my dear?"

The prince laughs awkwardly as well, shifting on his feet and accidentally bumping into Marcus. The knight stares down at him sternly with hidden disdain. The prince grips your shoulder and tries to lead you away as he says, "Well, princess, why don't we get to know each other one on one before we further our courtship, yes?"

Upon hearing that, you've had enough. You yanked your shoulder away from his grimy grip and backed away from the men crowding in on you. Your father's white eyebrows furrow and you can practically feel his temper rising. Marcus steps a foot closer to him in case he would need to intervene.

"No," you spoke through clenched teeth. Your fists tightened at your sides as your breathing grew heavy and fast with each passing second.

Your father looks at you, then at the prince, then at Marcus, then back at you. "No?" He mocks your answer. As he takes a step towards you, you take another step back.

"You heard me, father," you shakily spoke as your voice wavered and grew weaker. "You will not marry me off to a swine." You spit the word at the prince who scoffs in offense. "You will not force your values onto me as though I am a lesser woman to you. I will not live an unhappy life and ignore my capabilities."

The crowd's cheering gets quieter and quieter until they stop completely upon noticing the tense atmosphere around you and your father. Marcus feels pride and fear bubbling in his chest. He knew just how much you were holding in when it came to your father. He never expected now would be the time for it to spill out all at once. You harbored a different kind of courage that he admired. Any other princess would have kept their mouths shut and gone through an unhappy marriage. Ever since you were a child, you were always independent and following your eldest brother's footsteps, wanting to be just like him when you reached adulthood. Being a woman in this life wasn't easy, that's for sure.

"Capabilities," your father scoffed and waved you off with a hand as though you were a fly. He half turned away and glared at you. "And what capabilities might you speak of, my dear daughter?" The way he speaks to you was demeaning and you've never felt so belittled in your entire life.

When you glanced at Marcus over your father's shoulder, he subtly shook his head disapprovingly. That was his way of silently telling you to not poke the bear and make the situation worse by adding more coal to the fire. To be honest, he was terrified of the outcome. Your father was not a violent man, but he was a scary man when he was rage filled. Looking back at your father, he raised his eyebrows at you.

"I want to be a fighter," you tell him quietly, like a little mouse. "I want to continue William's legacy and ride into battle with his sword and finish what was started."

There was light, gossiping chatter that was faintly heard between the guests who observed everything. You had almost forgotten that you stopped the courtship celebration. Your father stood frozen in his place. His jaw ticked and his hands trembled. Marcus stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, about to speak into his ear but your father held a hand up, further silencing his knight.

"You listen to me, girl," your father spoke lowly as he stepped closer to your frozen frame. "You will never be like my son." Hearing those words had you choking on a heartbroken gasp. "You will never have the strength of a man to become a powerful fighter like my son." He steps closer and closer. "You will never be nothing more than a dutiful wife that will bear children to continue your husband's legacy."

Smelling the wine on his breath had you recoiling. Each cruel word spewing from his lips adds a crack to your heart. These were the words you were afraid to hear. Having them told to your face in front of the public added to the crushing embarrassment. You couldn't break down. Not now, especially not in front of your father and Marcus, who stands behind with a somber look on his face.

Staring into your father's wild eyes, you brokenly whispered, "He may have been your son, but he was my brother and my greatest friend, and I will continue his legacy whether you like it or not."

He swallowed thickly and realized you weren't going to back down obediently like he thought.

"Marcus!" He barked, causing the shoulders of his knight to jump. "Take her to her chambers and lock the door. She will stay there until I believe that she is ready to come out."

"Absolutely not!" You shouted in his face, the fire in the pit of your stomach growing heavier as you hear those words. "You will not imprison me!"

"And you will not disrespect me in front of our guests, child!" He all but bellowed in your face, some spittle landing on your cheeks and nose. You flinched your head away but didn't move a step back as he got into your space. "You will follow your orders as a princess and do as I say!"

Marcus finally creates space between you and your father. Celeste had run up the wooden steps of the viewing post to step in front of your father to place her hands on his chest. The Prince of Ivanard stood silently as he didn't want to get in between a family feud, especially since the angry king was his soon-to-be father-in-law.

"Let's go, princess," Marcus speaks softly in your ear, his large hand tenderly holding your arm to usher you away from drama.

As he finally, and successfully, pulled you away, you passed by your father and shouted over your shoulder to let your final words hurt him. "God damn you!"

There was a collective gasp amongst the crowd, and you were finally ushered away in the hands of Marcus.

It had been almost three weeks since the argument between you and your father. He had followed through with his promise of locking you in your chambers. You thought it was to scare you, but once you heard the lock click and you attempted to open your door, you stepped away in shock. Marcus tried to get your father to change his mind, to change his ways, but it was no use. Your father was a stubborn, stubborn man. Celeste even tried to talk your father out of this harsh treatment, but she too was waved off. The only time you were allowed out was for dinners in the dining hall which only consisted of you and your father sitting at opposite ends of the long table. Dinners were awkward and tense. Neither of you opted to speak to one another. Stubbornness runs in the family.

When it reached day twenty-six of isolation, you were growing more frantic over the prospect of never feeling freedom. All you had were your books and your diary. Celeste and Marcus were both instructed to not interact with you. If they were to go against the king's wishes, there would be severe consequences. You knew it was all talk considering the maidservant and the knight were the only two people your father cared about deeply. You thought he cared about you too, but you were wrong.

Tonight wasn't any different than the others. Sitting on the balcony that overlooks the garden, you had a quill in one hand with your diary resting on the smooth stone parapet of the balcony. It was Celeste that had taught you how to write in elegant cursive. She was your teacher for, essentially, everything.

Looking up at the stars and all the beautiful constellations, you couldn't help but to think of what life would be like if you weren't a princess; what life would be like if your mother was still alive, if William was still alive. You had a feeling that your brother would've secretly trained you after hours whilst your father slept. The thought pulled a smile on your lips, and you made sure to write it in your diary.

"Princess," you heard a hushed voice from down below. Your hand froze and you strained your ears, assuming you were only hearing things from being isolated for so long. But then you heard it again. "Psst! Princess! Down here!" You leaned over the edge of the parapet and glanced down, your eyes widening when you see Marcus standing atop one of the stone benches.

"Marcus!" You hissed quietly before you scanned the perimeter. There was a full moon tonight, which meant that everyone in the castle was dead asleep, aside from you and Marcus, obviously. "What on earth are you doing down there?"

He holds a finger to his lips. Suddenly, he throws a bundle of rope up to you and it plops down beside your feet. Completely and utterly confused, you leaned over the edge again.

"Tie the end around one of the pillars! I'm going to hoist myself up to you!"

The idea was absurd. The more you stood up there staring down at him, the more antsy he became.

"Princess, please!"

Without saying another word, you did as he asked. Tying one end of the rope around one of the pillars into a double looped knot, you tossed down the rest of the rope. You watched curiously as Marcus grabbed the rope with both hands and began hoisting himself up. He lets out a hoarse grunt with each pull up, no doubt struggling under his body weight. His arms were exposed from the tunic he wore, his biceps bulging from exertion. When he finally reached the top, he panted heavily and swung his long legs over the edge and hopped down onto the balcony. He was now face to face with you.

"Why couldn't you unlock my door instead?" You asked him with arms crossed and a tilted head that made his heart flutter.

Marcus shrugged. "I didn't want to possibly disturb your father's slumber by the obnoxious creaking of your door."

Squinting at him for not providing any further explanation, you offered him the other empty chair on the other side of the balcony. As he takes a seat, you take the time to really observe him in the moonlight coupled with the candles lit around your room. The tunic he wore showcased his broadness. Without his armor or casual chest plate and arm wear, as well as his sword always attached to his hip, seeing him in all his normalcy was definitely a change. A good change, if that. He looked comfortable and relaxed. No longer was he standing as straight as a rod. When you caught him curiously peering at the open pages of your diary, you were quick to push his head away with your pointer finger before shutting the book.

"That is for my eyes and my eyes only, Knight Acacius," you tell him in a teasing tone, a gentle smile on your lips that had him smiling as well.

"I'm no longer Marcus to you, huh?"

"Well, that depends on if you're going to be on my good side tonight. I really don't want to add you to the list."

He scratches at his scruffy jaw and chuckles quietly at your sassy answer. You briefly retreat inside your room to safely tuck your diary under your pillow. When you go back outside onto the balcony, Marcus sees the small wooden bowl of green and purple grapes in your hands that Celeste had left outside your door. He nods at you in thanks when you motion the bowl over to him. He plucks a few grapes from the stem and watches as you lean back in your seat with the bowl on your lap. The nightgown covering your body made him feel like you looked like a goddess under the moonlight. The delicate skin of your shoulders, collarbones, and arms were exposed. He noticed a distinct scar just above your left breast.

"How did you get that scar?"

You looked shocked at his question. Of course, you forgot just how exposed you were to the older knight. But you didn't feel uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze. Looking down at the scar as best as you could, you touched the tip of your fingers onto the mark.

"Uh, it's a funny story," you let out a small laugh and looked at Marcus with crinkled eyes that caused a dimple to form on your cheek. "I was only a small child when it happened. I believe I was nine years old, and William was nineteen. He was outside in the pit practicing. I was curious as to what he was doing, you know? I stepped too close just as swung his sword back and the tip of the blade sliced right through my dress." Bursting into a fit of giggles, you remembered the horrified expression on your brother's face and the number of apologies spewing from his lips. "If I was just a few inches shorter, he would've gotten my throat."

Marcus shuts his eyes and shakes his head at the thought. When he opens them, he notices the melancholy, faraway look in your eyes at the mention of William. He quietly cleared his throat, causing your eyes to shoot up at his own. There was a moment of silence. He licked his lips and tried to form the correct words without ruining the mood.

"He would've been a good king," he tells you softly. He rolls a grape between his fingers. "He would tell me all of the ideas he had for the kingdom." Marcus laughed at a particular incident where he had stumped the young man. "He also would've been a good jester."

That was what made you cackle. You slapped your mouth with both hands and Marcus covered his own with his fist to keep from laughing. The two of you shook your heads and eased the laughter until a comfortable lull washed over. As he looked down at the grape in his hands, he mulled over the 'what if' questions that continuously ran through his head. Suddenly, he felt a thump on his forehead. A purple grape landed on his lap. As he went to lift his head to look at you, another grape hit him on the head and bounced off, landing a few feet away on the ground. You giggled behind your palm at his perplexed face.

"You are a child," he tells you in a joking manner.

"If I'm old enough to be married off to a prince, then I'm old enough to play games with my favorite knight," you tell him with that teasing smile again, the same one that always gets his heart beating fast.

"I'm your favorite knight, huh?" He throws a grape in your direction, the small fruit bouncing off your chest and landing between his feet.

"Not anymore if you keep antagonizing me," you joke as you go to throw another grape at him, but Marcus was quick enough to react and moved his head back to catch it in his mouth.

You throw him a thumbs up and he winks. The action was so charming. It was weird that it came from him. Again, not a bad weird. It was a good type of weird. It made you feel warm and fuzzy, and tingly. Although Marcus was much older and much more experienced, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you have towards the man. A delusional part of you hoped that the feeling was mutual.

As the silence grew longer, Marcus took it upon himself to break it. "Well, since you gave me a confession that I am indeed your favorite knight, then I guess you deserve my confession that you are my favorite princess." His tone held something you couldn't add up. It was a mix of adoration and something possibly stronger. It had your cheeks and neck warming. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at his boyish grin.

"I'm your favorite princess?" You asked him quietly, too shy to look at him as you fiddled with the bowl of grapes. You couldn't embarrass yourself, not now, not like this. Maybe it was the loneliness and the possibility of never falling in love with the right man. But all fingers keep pointing to Knight Marcus Acacius.

"You are my favorite princess," he repeated more slowly and gently, bending his head to try and catch your eye. "And it's only ever going to be you, my princess."

It had been a full two months since the falling out between you and your father. Your dinners have now been delivered to your door rather than your father having Celeste escort you down to the dining hall. There was no complaint though. If anything, you preferred it that way. You've grown comfortable with being alone. Well, not entirely alone. After midnight, you and Marcus had fallen into a routine of him sneaking up onto the balcony and the two of you sharing stories of your past lives. Sometimes, he would bring a gift or two to surprise you.

A few days ago, you had mentioned that you wished you had red ink to go with your quills. That same night, Marcus had instructed you to hold out your hand and to shut your eyes. You were skeptical at first, assuming that he was going to play a joke on you.

"Do you trust me, my princess?" He had asked you softly, tipping your head up with his forefinger curled under your chin. You meet his eyes and almost feel hypnotized by the emotions swirling in them.

You nodded. "I trust you... with my life, Marcus Acacius."

Then, he laid a small item in the palm of your hand. You looked down and read the label, looking back up at him with a wide smile that made your eyes crinkle that your eyes disappeared. He was stunned when your body collided against his in a hug that felt like home. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around your body, one hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you pressed against him.

"Oh, Marcus," you had sighed softly and sniffled the tears away from the overwhelming feeling of finally being seen.

Tonight was a different adventure. Rather than Marcus climbing up, he instructed you to climb down. The idea was absurd, and you verbally expressed that when you stared down at his awaiting arms. It was at least a fifteen-foot drop without the rope. You couldn't risk breaking a bone because how else would you explain it to your father?

"Do you trust me, dove?" He hushed, staring up at you with those deep brown eyes of his that make it hard to say no.

You sighed to yourself and looked over your shoulder at the locked door of your bedroom. When you looked back down at him from over the balcony, you couldn't help but to smile at his eagerness.

"I trust you with my life, Marcus Acacius," you tell him earnestly. He smiles at that, his dimple deepening the wider his smile gets.

As you swing yourself over the edge, you make sure to fix your sleeping gown so as to not give him a sneak peek. Marcus never tried any advances on you. Although you wished he would at least touch your thigh or something, he always kept his hands to himself and was a respectful gentleman. The both of you would share intimate hugs and held hands on occasion, but that was it. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. Whether the fear was your reputation as a princess, the arranged marriage, or the age gap between you and the knight. You were unsure of how to go about this. Whatever it was, you didn't want to ruin it. As of this moment, this routine, it was just two people spending time together and forming an intimate bond.

"There we go, darling girl," he tells you softly, his arms stretched up high to catch you if you fall. "Now, hold onto the rope with both hands and slowly lower yourself down." When you let out a small whimper, Marcus hushes you softly by saying, "I got you, darling. I got you."

Lowering yourself down to the ground was surprisingly easy work. It was harder for Marcus, most likely because he was twice your weight. Either way, you didn't embarrass yourself by falling on your backside and making a complete fool out of yourself in front of the man you have questionable feelings for. The two of you greet each other quietly and share a long hug. He had been unable to visit you for a few days, so this was your reunion back in each other's arms.

"I have a surprise for you, princess," he speaks quietly in your ear, the both of you swaying gently in each other's arms. "Are you up for adventure with your favorite knight?"

Pulling away from his chest, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and look up at him. He spots the skepticism in your eyes, and he rolls his own jokingly.

"It's nothing extreme, I promise," he makes an X across his heart. "If it's something you are not interested in, then you say the word and I shall bring you back to your chambers safe and sound."

Marcus sounds sincere, and almost nervous. Curiosity got the best of you as you were eager to see what he had planned. When you give him a nod, he gives you one of his boyish grins and takes a hold of your hand and holds onto the lantern he had set aside to pull you into his arms. You follow him silently through the gardens, casting your balcony one last look before it disappears from view. It was another few minutes of walking until you realized what direction you two were heading in.

"Are we... going out to the lake?" You finally asked him, looking at the back of his head before peering around his shoulder. When the lake comes into view, you see a blanket laid out on the ground with another lantern resting atop it.

As you got closer, Marcus ushers you in front of him so you can get a better look of the layout. On the blanket was a plate of dried meats, cheeses, pieces of bread, and fruit; two chalices and a bottle of wine; and a single flower. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were able to come out. Marcus had deemed you speechless, for the first time ever. It was usually always the other way around.

"Now," he gently pushed you closer with a hand on your hip. "I know how imprisoned you've felt in your chambers. And I know things have been hard for you for the past few months. I figured, maybe, you'd want a relaxing time away from your chambers. Now, this is, uh, not something of courtship, I promise you that." The sentence had you laughing quietly. "Think of this as, um, a friend helping out another... friend?" He sounded unsure, mentally kicking at himself for using those choice of words.

"Well... friend," you purposely drew out the word in a teasing manner to make him squirm. "This was definitely a surprise, and it's a beautiful surprise. Thank you, Marcus." He can hear your voice waver with emotion. "I cannot believe you went out of your way to do this for me."

"It's the least I can do for a princess like you," he spoke in a hushed tone, watching you closely as you bend down to lift the stem of the flower and sniff the petals.

Sliding off your slippers, you wiggled your feet in the plush grass, giggling to yourself at the texture between your toes. It had been so long since you felt grass under your bare feet. It was slightly moist from the fog that very slowly made its way across the hills and just barely kissed the lake. Standing at the edge of the lake, there was a moment of spontaneity that washed over you. Maybe it was a bold move or an act of rebellion. The more you stared out into the lake, the more desperate you were to feel the water on your naked skin. As you slid the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, Marcus was quick to stop you from undressing any further.

"What... uh... What are you, um, doing?"

Why couldn't he form a coherent question? He sees the princess' bare shoulders and he suddenly feels like a virgin boy again. He forces himself to turn away with his hands on his hips when he hears the faint splash of you swimming further into the lake. When he hears your contented sighs, he finds himself turning without realizing. His arms dropped to his sides and his shoulders sagged from the forceful breath he exhaled due to the sight before him. You stood in the lake with the water just below your collarbones. Your hair was wet and slicked back when you dipped underneath to get used to the cold. With the droplets on your skin and the two lanterns creating more than enough light, Marcus would be convinced if you told him you were actually a nymph. Whatever it is that you would tell him, he would hang on to every word as though it would be the last time he would hear them.

"Come on, Knight Acacius!" You swim deeper into the lake, dipping back underneath and popping back up, blinking away the water and swiping a hand down your face to look at him with a sweet smile. "Don't leave me swimming all alone."

He knows it's a bad idea. This was definitely crossing an unspoken boundary of your whatever-your-relationship-was. Once that line was crossed, there was no going back. Marcus knew that. You knew that. Maybe you wanted for him to get in the water as an invitation. He didn't know. The two of you danced around the obvious for three months. Touches got longer and lingered the more time spent together. Goodbyes got harder after spending hours whispering secrets to one another in your bed – nothing ever got past innocent cuddling. But looking at you now, swimming about in your carefree spirit that he feels he lost so long ago, he can no longer ignore his attraction to you. Glancing off to the side in the direction you two came from, Marcus looked at you again and he can see the reassuring smile on your face, silently telling him that it's okay, it's just the two of you.

You watch as he reaches a hand behind his neck to pull off his tunic. Seeing his bare chest for the first time made you look away with a gasp. The lanterns made his skin look so golden and warm to the touch. There was more movement in your peripheral. Your brain screamed at you to not look, but your heart screamed even louder at you to take a little peek. So, you did. Lips parted on their own accord as Marcus slid off his bloomers. From the position with the way he bent over, you weren't able to see his lower half. But as he pulled his bloomers free from his legs and stood back up, you turned just in time to avoid seeing his exposed, private area. You wanted to give him the same respect he had given you when you had undressed in front of him. Whether he took a peek or not, you knew he was respectful about it.

With your back facing the field, you stared further down at the lake. With the moonlight bouncing off the gentle ripples of the water, it really did look like it was sparkling. It had you smiling in awe as your hands gently carded through the water. There was a distant splash from behind you, and then silence. You almost held your breath when you felt Marcus' presence getting closer and closer. It was nerve-wracking, and also almost exciting and taboo. Then, you felt it.

Two large hands gently grip your hips from behind. Your stomach muscles tightened at the feeling before your entire body relaxed. Slowly turning in his grip, a smile pulled at your lips. You and Marcus stood at least a foot from one another. The two of you stood with the water just below your collarbones. His hair was damp and slicked back, the ends looking a lot longer from the added wetness to them, but they still curled no matter how many times he ran a hand through them. Your hands started at his wrists, Then, they slowly slid up his forearms where you felt his arm hair. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightens as you've come to a realization that this was all happening, and it wasn't a dream. As your hands slide further up his strong, thick biceps and rest onto his broad shoulders, you couldn't mistake the sigh of content spilling from your lips for something else. You hoped it was quiet enough for Marcus to not hear, but the little grin on his face says otherwise.

Your hands slide up his neck, briefly brushing over his vein, and your thumbs can feel the hammering of his pulse. When they finally settled on his scruffy jaw, you were at a loss for words. Marcus can see your eyes on his lips. Experimentally, he licked at his bottom lip with barely a poke of his tongue before pulling it back between his teeth. Almost in a trance-like state, you do the same with your own bottom lip. Upon hearing his laugh, you broke out of the hypnotization he had you under and released your bottom lip from between your teeth.

"You are a foul man," you giggle at him, lightly pushing him away and splashing water in his direction. "In all seriousness, Marcus, it's nice seeing you like this."

"Wet, naked, and vulnerable?"

"No!" You laughed a little hard at his annoying answer, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him as his smile grew wider. The two of you start swimming in slow, calm circles. "I mean, it's nice seeing you not so serious all the time. I like seeing you happy and... relaxed, to say the least."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm wet, naked, and vulnerable?" He teasingly asks, reaching underwater to poke at your stomach. You rolled your eyes at him again and leaned back to use your foot to nudge him away. "I know what you mean, dove. There are rare moments where I can unwind, but you've helped me in the process of doing so."

His answer piqued your interest. You stopped swimming in slow circles and looked over at him as he slowly bobbed up and down in the water. There's a ghost of a smile on Marcus' lips when you look at him with those wide, curious eyes. He clears his throat and looks away, hoping that pointing his attention on something else would help the words come out smoothly.

"The time I've spent with you, my princess, has been the most serene I have ever felt in my entire life of being your knight," he tells you in a low voice, afraid to speak any louder to where the moment is ruined by his gruffness. "With you, I am able to not worry about... anything. You make it quite easy to forget about my worries. I could be having the most troublesome day, but the second I look into those eyes of yours, it all disappears and I'm able to be Marcus with you and not Knight Acacius."

You carefully swim closer to where he stands. The emotion is heavy on his face, from the way his eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to use the best words that he could think of in order to convey what he's feeling as to not confess too much too soon. Marcus shakes his head and laughs at himself.

"I'm making a fool out of myself, aren't I?"

Hushing him softly, you lean in close and tenderly wrap your arms around his shoulders to further pull him into your chest. Marcus' hooked nose lovingly caresses your jaw and then lowers down to your neck where he inhales deeply, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, further easing the anxiety that was threatening to burst. You card a hand at the back of his head, fingers gently tugging at his damp curls. He was polite enough to keep his hips a distance away from your own as his arms find a home around your waist.

"You are no more a fool than I, Marcus Acacius," you tell him so quietly, your voice cracking when you say his name. He lifts his head from its place in the crook of your neck. Eyes meet eyes, then forehead meets forehead. Noses brush against one another and his hands find your cheeks. You tenderly hold onto his wrists and shut your eyes, wishing there was a way to capture this moment.

Then, Marcus tells you in a tone that borders between heartache and awe, "I guess we are both foolish beings, my princess." And just like that, a lonesome tear rolls down your cheek, one that he lightly kisses away. His lips on your cheek left a warmth that you wished you could feel all over. But at this moment, right here with him, you will take all that he could give you.

"Princess." There was a knock on your door, followed by the latch unlocking. The door opens quietly, the unmistakable creak causing you to wince and bury your face deeper into your pillow with a groan. "The king requests your presence in his chambers." The blanket was yanked off your warm body, the cold, crisp air of your room causing you to shiver and groan even louder in your pillow. "Come on, princess. You know your father is an impatient man."

Celeste busies herself by picking out your morning gown and laying it on your bed by your curled legs. She does a once over at your body and then does a double take. When you hear nothing but silence, you remove the pillow from your face and look over your shoulder. She stands over you with a peculiar look on her face. Her wrinkled fingers gently pinch at the hem of the dark maroon tunic covering your body. It was a men's tunic, one that fell just above your knees.

"Oh, dear child," she tuts quietly, looking up at your eyes and shaking her head disapprovingly. "Please, do not tell me this belongs to you-know-who."

There was a moment of panic on your face. You leapt out of bed and made a mad dash to your bedroom door to slam it shut. Celeste still stands as stiff as a tree with her hands on her hips. Never has she ever looked so disappointed at you. It makes you want the ground to swallow you whole. Timidly striding across the room, you let out a tired sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, your fingers playing with the ends of the tunic.

"Nothing serious happened, Celeste," you speak under your breath.

She rests a hand on her head in distress, her eyes wide and worrisome. "Knight Marcus?!" She hissed. "Do you not know what would happen if your father ever found out about you two?"

"Celeste, there is nothing to even find out about," you pleaded with her, tears already brimming along your waterline. "We... We're just two people that formed a companionship after hours. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less." The words burned your tongue the second they left your mouth. "You need to believe me when I say this, Celeste. Please, I beg of you. Do not tell my father of this, please."

The older maidservant looks at you with pity, her pursed lips in a frown at the sound of your helplessness and fear of what could possibly happen if word were to spread throughout the castle. With another sigh, she takes a seat next to you on the bed. Her left hand grabs a hold of your right one, and you immediately rest your head upon her shoulder. She rests her chin on the crown of your head, sighing once more. The two of you sit in silence, listening to the faint laughter and commotion happening within the garden through the ajar windows in your room.

"Do you love him?"

The question caught your attention. Celeste's tone sounded melancholy, but you couldn't place a finger on it. You didn’t want her to take your silence as a definite answer. Truth be told, you don’t understand what it is that you feel. Were they platonic feelings? Romantic? Sexual? You do know that Marcus is three times your senior. He has a reputation to uphold as your father’s main knight. He has led the other knights into battle between the other kingdoms and always came back unscathed. Marcus Acacius was a frightening man to some and a dangerous man to others. But you never viewed him as either. He’s a passionate man with many ideals that he would hope to spread. Marcus has a sensitivity to him not a lot of men have, which is why he kept himself guarded as best as he could, only showing you the vulnerable parts of him knowing there will be no judgment. 

“This is a dangerous game you are playing, dear child,” Celeste tells you in a somber tone. “You do not know what you are asking for, nor do you understand what it’s like to love someone like that.” 

Pulling your head up from her shoulder, you rip your hand away from her gentle grip. With a fire in your eyes, you stand up before her, glaring down at the old maidservant with betrayal.

“Of all the people, Celeste, I thought you would be the one to understand me the most,” your voice breaks. "I may not be wise beyond my years, but I know what it is like to love someone. Now, I don't know what it is that I'm feeling. Maybe it's love. Maybe it's not. All I know is that I treat Marcus exactly like how he wants to be perceived. If that's wrong of me as his friend and as the king's daughter, then... damn you all!"

Shockingly enough, Celeste laughs. Not a small, polite chuckle she would give to a guest or to your father. But a full-bellied laugh that had her doubling over. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Don't... Don't laugh at me! How dare you make a mockery of me!"

She only laughs harder, frantically waving her hands as she tries to catch her breath. Her face is flushed as she dabs her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears. Still standing in front of her, confused and offended, you cross your arms and look away from her with a shake of your head. Much to your surprise, you let out a small oof when she hugs you tightly. You stood frozen in her embrace. Arms still crossed between your bodies; you eyed the side of her head. But then, you heard it. Celeste was crying on your shoulder, tenderly stroking the back of your head. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing yourself closer into her front. The woman held onto you tighter, one hand still stroking the back of your hair as her other arm crossed over your shoulder blades.

"Gods, you remind me so much of your mother," she lets out a watery laugh. "She was a spitfire, that one."

Stepping away from Celeste when her arms dropped down, she was quick to cup your cheeks in her cold hands. Her thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks, smiling weakly when you won't meet her eye.

"Before your mother passed, she made me promise that I would take care of you and your brother," she tells you quietly, gently tipping your head up to look into her cloudy eyes. "I may not be your mother, but I will always love you like my own. Do you understand, princess?" You give her a jerky nod. "It is my duty as your caregiver to ensure that your happiness will never wander. And it is my duty as your mother's oldest friend to keep my promise." You open your mouth to question her, but she hushes you softly. "Whatever it is that you may feel for him, do not let it go, understood?" She gives you a pointed look that tells you to not disagree with her. As she sees the tiniest smile forming on your lips, she gives you a wink and informs you to get dressed in your gown.

There was a gentle knocking at the door.

"Celeste? Princess?"

The door creaks open and reveals just who you were talking about. Knight Marcus trudges inside, his lids heavy from exertion but they brighten the second they're laid on you. Celeste doesn't miss the way his shoulders sag and the soft smile that takes over his face. She also doesn't miss the way your own smile turns into one of affection, the confusion and anger on your face now washed away. She hums under her breath, quiet enough so only she could hear it. Marcus clears his throat and gives the older woman a polite nod. She squints.

"The king requests the princess' presence urgently," he tells you both. His eyes sweep up and down your appearance, silently wishing you two were alone so he could take you into his arms and obsess over your beauty and to feel your cheeks warming under his lips. There are a lot of things he wishes he could do with you without facing any consequences. He wishes the life you two share wasn't one of secrecy. His only hope is that you also think the same of him.

Celeste fussed with your hair and did a simple style with a small braid tied behind the rest of your hair that lays against your back. When she's about to pass Marcus, she eyes the both of you once more before leaving the room, most likely to give you two some privacy.

"Do you know what it is that my father wants to talk about?" The question comes out weak, the jitters never once settling as the dreadful questions and 'what if's' are never-ending.

Marcus shakes his head as his hand tights on the handle of his sword. "I'm not sure, princess. But I wouldn't worry much about it. He didn't seem... on edge." Giving him a nod at his answer, he could still tell that it didn't ease your nerves. It's been a while since you last faced your father. He steps forwards, just a hair away. "Dove, you have nothing to worry about, okay?"

The two of you walked in tandem to your father's chambers. As you turn down the long, stoned hallway, Marcus' hand barely brushes along the shape of your hip when you step in front of him. Glancing at him over your shoulder with a barely-there smile, his silent reassurance was something you didn't know you needed, and now you crave it more than ever. As you knocked on the door and entered upon hearing your father's voice, Marcus' hand laid on the handle of the door to pull it shut to leave you and your father alone.

"Uh, Marcus," the king raises a hand to stop the knight from shutting the door. "It is better for you to be here as well to hear what I have to say."

The moment was filled with panic for both you and the knight. With your father's back turned, you glanced over your shoulder at Marcus, your eyes wide and lips parted as your breathing grew frantic. He raised a hand just above his waist, subtly shaking his head, silently pleading with you not to panic. Had your father discovered what you and Marcus had been doing after hours? With Marcus defying your father's orders, you dreaded the punishment that might await you both. Despite never going beyond hugging and handholding, you and the knight continued to dance around the topic of your relationship, fearing that reality would ruin it.

The tension in the room is palpable. Marcus stands by the door, his silence a testament to his understanding of the king's authority. Your father, with his hands clasped behind his back, gazes out the window, the sunlight catching the glint of his rings. You follow him closely, waiting for his words, and cast another glance over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment.

The weight of his words hung in the air, filled with sorrow and regret. "Ever since your mother passed, I've felt like I've failed you, both as your father and as king. You remind me so much of her. She truly was an extraordinary woman," he said, his voice tinged with a sad, melancholic laugh.

It was unusual to see him in such a vulnerable state. Often, it was hard to understand his thoughts or emotions. He usually maintained a facade for the villagers around the kingdom. The only mask you had seen him wear was the one he donned after your mother's death. Listening to him talk about her felt almost therapeutic. Unsure of where the conversation was headed, you remained silent and let him continue.

The atmosphere was incredibly tense as he spoke, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "I understand that you believe yourself capable of being more than just a wife, perhaps even a queen. But it is quite selfish of you to ignore what this kingdom needs in terms of allies and protection," he said, turning to face you fully. Shocked, you couldn't help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

"Selfish?" you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and determination. "Explain to me how pursuing my own happiness is selfish, father. How is my desire to ride with the knights and fight for our people selfish? Go on, explain!" Your breath came in rapid, shallow bursts, but you no longer cared about the repercussions of your defiance. "Were you ever going to tell me that this isn't the life mother envisioned for me?"

The shock on his face was laughable.

"I beg your pardon!" His cheeks flushed with rage. "You don't know what you are talking about, child. You have no idea what your mother wanted for you, and you should not ponder it while you are in my care."

The laughter that bubbled out of your chest was uncontrollable. Marcus, standing by the door, watched the tense scene unfold. He knew better than to intervene or place himself between you and the king. However, as the king's expression grew increasingly stony, Marcus began to worry for your well-being, sensing that you were on the verge of crossing a line from which there would be no return.

Gazing at your father, any sympathy for his struggles vanished, as he remained tethered to his past. Marcus and Celeste offered no assistance, and now, neither could you. The king received no pity. If William were still here, he would undoubtedly strive to alter your father's views on your life choices. Sadly, in this moment, it felt like you were alone against the world. As stubborn as your father was, you now wished you weren't cut from the same cloth.

Now seething and unable to hide it, you stood closer until you were damn near toe-to-toe with your father. "In your care?" The question was spat in his face. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but hasn't Celeste been my caregiver since I was born? Hm? Wasn't it my mother that granted her full guardianship because she knew of the ideals you would bestow upon me, and she didn't agree?" Hearing about Celeste had your father shutting up instantly, and he looks away in shame. "Don't you dare try to act like a caring father, after all these years! When it comes to me being married off to a prince with no values, that is when you decided to step up." Lowering your head to try and catch his eye, he only turns away to point his back at you.

The weight of his words hung in the air as he gazed out the window, his voice barely above a whisper. "You do not know what this marriage could do for us, for the kingdom, and for our people," he said. "You are a princess, and I expected you to act as such."

Marcus lowers his head, his heart aching at the sound of your soft sniffles. He wishes he could cross the room, pull you into his arms, and take you far away from all this pain. He would do anything for you, if only you would ask.

"I know I am not like the other princess', father," you cried softly and hesitantly stepped over to the same window he looked out of, silently begging for him to look at you. But his jaw clenches and ticks, a telltale sign of agitation. You want to lay a hand on his forearm, but you'd rather not poke the bear. "I know I don't have the same ideals a woman such as myself may have, but what about me?"

When you don't get a response, you continue.

"What about what I want for the kingdom? Have you ever, for one second, thought about my own happiness instead of your own?"

The silence stretched on, heavy and unbroken. Neither of you uttered a word, except for your quiet sniffles as you struggled to hold back your tears. Marcus despised the look of desperation on your face. The anguish was unmistakable. It only worsened when you reached out to your father, and he stepped away as if a peasant had stepped on his shoes. When he looked at you, you could hardly recognize the man you once knew as your loving father. Now, he was in his kingly mindset and looked at you as though you were a problem.

The king continues to look down at you as if you were nothing more. "You do not want to marry a prince? That is perfectly fine with me," his voice was void of any emotion, making it impossible to decipher what lay hidden beneath. "There will be a carriage waiting for you tomorrow morning at sunrise. I am sending you to a convent where you will live the rest of your life as a nun. If you wish to rebel against me and ignore your duties as a princess, so be it. I will not be made a fool from your disobedience and disrespect."

"What?" Both you and Marcus exclaim, the shock of the situation melting into terror. Your heart races, and you can feel the panic rising within you. Marcus notices your distress from a distance and quickly comes to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His presence is a small comfort, a reminder that you're not alone in this moment of fear.

The knight looks at the king. "Your majesty-"

"Enough, Marcus." The king gives him a pointed stare, raising his bushy, white eyebrows, silently telling the knight to not cross the line and make matters worse. "You will make sure she is gone by the time I have woken."

The tension in the air was discernible. You struggled to find the right words, but they seemed to vanish before you could speak of them. Beside you, Marcus was seething with anger, his frustration almost tangible. Among all the scenarios he had considered, the princess being sent away to a convent was the last thing you expected.

"You are making a grave mistake," Marcus tells him, his voice no longer quiet, but more authoritarian. "Sending her away is going to make matters worse for the kingdom. Please, think about what you are doing. You are going against Maryann's wishes. Think of the heartbreak you are going to bestow on Celeste."

The mention of Maryann, your mother, brought a flood of emotions you could no longer contain. You turned and buried your face in Marcus' chest, clutching the short sleeves of his tunic as you sobbed. It felt like you were submerged underwater, unable to hear the knight and the king's conversation. All you could perceive was Marcus' faint laugh echoing in your mind, Celeste's nurturing smile, and the warmth of Marcus' hands tracing the contours of your body. Those cherished moments are now lost, and you can no longer fulfill your mother's wishes as she had hoped before she passed.

Marcus whispers your father's name. They lock eyes, the silence only broken by your heart-wrenching sobs. Marcus feels a lump forming in his throat, his nostrils tingling and eyes stinging. He repeats your father's name, his voice trembling and barely audible.

"Please," he pleads for you. His arms tighten around your body, wishing you could crawl inside his ribcage and rest upon his beating heart that you have unknowingly called home. Each whimper you released was like a stab to his chest with a poisoned dagger.

The king's frown deepens as he witnesses you trembling like a leaf in the arms of his favored knight. He swallows thickly and turns away once more, unable to face the damage that has already been done.

"My decision is final, Knight Marcus. Now, escort the princess back to her chambers."

The tears had long since dried up, leaving you as a mere shell of your former self, numb and devoid of feeling. The future seemed bleak, both for you and the kingdom. The king's rash decision to send you away to a convent was perilous and reckless. Consumed by his own fury, he had likely set the stage for the kingdom's downfall. The thought of Celeste and Marcus being put in harm's way filled you with dread, as if claws were tearing at your heart. You couldn't bear to think about the consequences of your banishment, knowing it would shatter you all over again.

The sense of helplessness is overwhelming. Celeste's anguished cries in your father's chambers still echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the pain she's enduring. She always saw you as the daughter she never had, and now, with your banishment, her heart must be breaking. Your father's silence in the face of her fury was telling. He deserved every bit of her wrath after all these years of loyalty and care she has shown your family.

And Marcus, Oh, goodness. With a slow, unsteady hand, you grabbed at your chest as the pain in your heart intensified. Being able to grow close to each other the way you've been doing the past few months has felt like a fairytale straight from the stories Celeste would make up when you were just a child. In another world, he was your prince, and you were his princess. Meeting in secrecy wasn't ideal, but it was perfect. Getting to see him become his most vulnerable was one of the greatest accomplishments you've endured. The lingering touches and longing glances given to one another around company always made you ache. The burning heat in your lower half never once weakened around him. He had grown confident in his touches and the occasional kisses that would start at your jaw and trail down to your neck where he would feel the hammering of your pulse under his lips. Knight Marcus Acacius was a man. And now, he will be a man that you would never have.

Enough was enough. There would be no more wallowing, no more pondering over what could have been, and no more drowning in tears. You needed to act, and you needed to act fast. A brief moment of panic struck as you leapt out of bed and hurried around your room. Think, think, think. Cursing to yourself, you finally got to work. Grabbing one of your gowns, you turned it into a makeshift sack by cutting and tying the ends with the small dagger Marcus had given you long ago when you were becoming a young woman.

"A princess is never really a princess without her dagger," he had told you, carefully unsheathing it and showing you the sharp blade with your initials engraved right by the handle. "This was given to me when I was your age, and now I want you to have it. Under any situation where you feel the need to use it, think about me and I will be right there with you."

Oh, Marcus. Not a minute goes by where you're not thinking about the older knight. There would be no more flirtatious banter, no more whispered secrets, no more tender touches. It was now, at this moment, that you've come to a realization your feelings for him are too intense to ignore. Maybe it's because of the desperation you feel or the terrors you're going to face after sunrise. Either way, you can't shake the unmistakable feeling away.

The reflection in the mirror is unrecognizable. The once bright eyes are now dim, and the skin is dull and dry from countless tears. This woman feels like a stranger, and the thought of living as her is unbearable. The idea of being someone you're not, confined by false worship and seclusion, is suffocating. But then, a spark of realization ignites. Not all is lost. A plan forms: escape before sunrise and head north. Whether you go alone or not is up to you, but finding solace elsewhere is better than being imprisoned by faith.

Just as you were getting a head start, a small clack sound came from the balcony. When you turned around to face the wide-open doors leading outside, you saw no one. As you were about to shut them, an object on the ground that hadn't been there before caught your eye.

It was a stone, almost the size of your palm. As you inched closer, you saw a paper wrapped around the stone, securely tied with wool string. Curiosity got the best of you, and you leaned over the edge of the parapet, but saw no one. You had assumed it was Marcus, but when he wasn't standing on the stone bench, looking up at you with that charming smile of his, your worry began to grow.

You bent down to pick up the stone, carefully retreating back into your room as you gave another glance towards the outdoor darkness surrounding your balcony. Untying the string and finally unfolding the paper, a smile slowly formed on your lips. In messy penmanship, it read: Meet me at our spot.

The rope that has been used during your secret little adventures has been kept hidden underneath your bed. After tying one end of the rope around one of the pillars, you hoist yourself down exactly as you've done the many times you snuck away with Marcus' hands held tightly in your own. There was a rush of excitement and nostalgia upon remembering those times. It felt like yesterday you two were on your balcony alone for the first time, tossing grapes at his head and essentially calling him your favorite person and vice versa.

When you reached the ground and adjusted your gown, you noticed a small lantern sitting beside the bench. It was the typical gentleman thing for Marcus to do, not wanting you to travel in the dark. It was very telling of his character and who he is as a man and as a companion. With the lantern held at arm's length from your chest, you never realized just how terrifying it is traveling alone in the dark. If you were going to leave before sunrise, you would have to get over that fear and think like a Dame, not a princess. An owl hooted in the distance, causing your head to sharply turn towards the noise.

Upon reaching the lake, you gently swung the lantern around to cast a glow around the area. There was no blanket on the ground. There was no other lantern in sight. There was no Marcus. In a hushed voice, you called out to him. Crickets chirped in the bushes as another howl hooted close by. In another hushed voice, more frantic than the last, you called out to your knight. When you reach the looming tree, an arm reaches around and yanks your body back until it collides against a sturdy chest.

With a shriek, you drop the lantern and struggle against the arm around your waist and the hand covering your mouth. You kick at the man's shin and jab your elbow into his stomach, eliciting a grunt from him.

"It's me! Princess, it's me!" The man hisses.

"Marcus?!" You whisper-shouted, allowing him to press you against the tree and observing the wince on his face as he sits up the lantern - thankfully the fire hasn't dimmed from your frantic motions. "You are a foolish, foolish man!" Although you did hurt him, accidentally, that still didn't lessen the smile on the knight's face. Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his shoulder and leaned more comfortably against the tree.

With the low lighting of the lantern on the ground and the full moon glowing behind his head, Marcus looked like a dream come true - your dream come true. His thick curls almost form a halo atop his head, making him look more angelic and heavenly than the rugged fighter he claims to be. You weren't a religious woman, by all means. But if heaven looked like this, you wouldn't mind getting down on your knees and praying to the gods above, begging to be put in a heaven where Marcus will look like this for eternity. It almost brings a tear to your eye.

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression. Both of your smiles disappear and transform into something softer and more intimate. Your eyes take in his features carefully, heartbroken at the fact that tonight will be the last night you will be with him again. No man's brown eyes could compare to your Marcus'. No man's hooked nose could compare to your Marcus'. No man's smooth, timbered voice could compare to your Marcus'. At the realization that no man will ever be the same as your knight's, and that he has ruined everyone else for you, you let out a shuddering breath as the tears fall.

"Oh, Marcus," you wept quietly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to lower his upper body down to your height to make it more comfortable. His eyes shut as his own emotions take over. His own arms find their home around your waist. He clings onto you desperately, scared that if he were to let go, you'd suddenly fade away like mist right through his fingers. "This... This is all too much."

He hushes you softly, caressing a hand through your long hair, burning the feeling in the back of his mind of how soft and thick your hair was. His nose curves around the shape of your neck, smelling your sweet scent one last time and feeling your pulse against the tip. When you whimper from him pulling away, he eases your sorrows by using his curled forefinger to tip your head up in order to wipe away your tears of heartache. Neither of you speak, only gazing into each other's eyes lovingly.

"You are the most... beautiful woman I've ever known," he tells you quietly, silently begging for his voice to remain steady. "Your heart, mind, and soul are mesmerizing and addicting." Your lips parted at his words, your arms sliding down his shoulders to gently hold onto either side of your neck. He continues, "When I spend my time with you, it feels as though I'm floating through the clouds, and nothing can pull me back down to earth."

The intensity of the moment made you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Marcus' hands gently cradled your cheeks, and his warmth and masculine scent made your mouth water. You could see his lips moving, but the words were lost to you. Gazing back into his eyes, you pulled him closer. Marcus paused, his eyes flicking down to your parted lips before meeting your sorrowful gaze again.

There was palpable tension in the air as you whispered his name, your heart heavy with unspoken words. "Marcus… I…" you breathed out softly, your voice trembling. "I never told you… how… how much I…" The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. You shook your head, the confession lingering on the tip of your tongue, frozen and waiting.

He takes that final step, your chests now pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. When Marcus lifts his hand to gently brush away some stray hairs from your face, you notice a slight tremble. You can't help but wonder if he's as nervous as you are, if his mind is racing with the same thoughts.

"Oh, my sweet darling," his voice trembling with emotion. His jaw tightens and relaxes, betraying the storm of feelings within him. The intensity of his gaze leaves no room for doubt—he understands your thoughts, your emotions, and the unspoken words hanging between you. He knows exactly what to do, even without uttering the forbidden words.

A surge of electricity shot through your entire body when Marcus' lips touched yours for the first time. You breathed in deeply through your nose and squeezed your eyes shut, your hands clinging desperately to his shoulders as he kept a steady grip on your face. The scruff of his beard scraped your upper lip and chin deliciously. This was what you had been waiting for, what you had been dreaming about for months, and now you finally had it, even if only for a short while until sunrise.

The two of you kissed like famished beasts. There was no holding back when it came to the knight. He kissed you as if your tongue was wine and he wanted to drink up the last few gulps. He kissed you as if he was drunk off of your taste and needed more, more, more. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to, now that he tasted you for the first time. His addiction to you worsened when your lips parted more to take his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The groan he releases had your entire body buzzing with heat.

With one hand gripping his curls at the nape of his neck and your other hand braced between his broad shoulder blades, you pulled away to take in big gulps of air as you forgot to remember to breathe. Marcus chased your lips immediately, his hands tightening on your face as he lips landed on yours again, and again, and again, until they were raw and swollen with passion. The whimper you elicit against him, the vibrations tingling on his mouth, drove him crazy.

This time, it was Marcus who pulled away.

He licks at his bottom lip, not wanting to waste any of your taste lingering on his eager tongue. Your breathing is heavy and desperate. Your lips tingle and buzz. The heat between you two intensified, no longer able to ignore as you two officially crossed that line that you cannot return from. He kisses you again, seemingly unable to go seconds without the feel of your lips on his and tongues intertwined.

The first kiss was everything you imagined it to be. You had expected it to be frantic, desperate, and consuming, and it was. It wasn't tender or gentle. He didn't kiss you like you were going to break apart. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed in order to breathe. Marcus was a trained fighter and killer. There has been blood drenched on his hands as others on the opposing side have died on the end of his sword.

After a few more minutes of nearly swallowing each other's tongue--maybe even an hour--Marcus pulled away for a moment to allow you a minute to regain composure and recollect yourself. The fogginess in your eyes fades away and you feel less like you're underwater. You can hear the faintness of crickets chirping again. There was a moment of embarrassment of losing yourself in the kiss, but you didn't care because Marcus also lost himself. He brushes away a small sheen of saliva at the corner of your lips with a sheepish, almost shy smile.

The moment slowly transformed when you held onto his forearm to keep his hand against your cheek. With eyes closed and lashes resting prettily on your cheeks, you kiss his palm so gently that he could barely feel it--just a tickle. Neither of you spoke. You didn't know what to say, and he didn't either, but that's okay. Everything that you wanted to say was expressed through your touches.

"Marcus," you whispered his name as your heart was about to leap out of your throat and land in the palm of his hand. He looks down at you with his beautiful, half-lidded, kiss-drunk eyes. You could no longer hold in your secret. "I'm leaving before sunrise."

His brows furrowed before they straightened. "I know you're leaving, sweet girl. Don't you mean at sunrise?"

Gently shaking your head, you release your embrace and lean back against the tree, gazing out over the lake. Marcus notices the struggle you're trying so hard to conceal on your face.

"No, my love," you tell him in a tearful voice. "I mean, I'm leaving before sunrise, getting through those gates, and heading north. I'm going to take myself far, far away from here and settle by the mountains."

Marcus can't hide the shock on his face. He takes a half step back, swipes a hand down his mouth, and distractedly rubs the back of his neck. Emotions swirl rapidly across his face. He doesn't know what to think or feel. An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of his stomach, the kind he usually gets when something bad is about to happen.

"Absolutely not," the words come out of his mouth without holding back. He realizes his mistake when you jerk your head back and look at him with surprise.

"I beg your pardon, Knight Marcus?" Using his rank as his name was a way to distance yourself from him, to not let your emotions bubble over the surface in a way you'll regret. He sees right through your facade.

"Don't give me that 'Knight Marcus' shit like I'm going to buy it," he sternly tells you, making sure to point a finger down at the ground rather than disrespect you by pointing it in your face. Tensions were currently high, and he doesn't want to make matters worse by accidentally offending you. "You heard what I said, and I'll say it again, slowly. Absolutely. Not."

The silence between you felt almost tangible. You had seen him address the other knights in this manner when they faltered in their training or when a guest made a disrespectful comment about the kingdom. He had a knack for putting people in their place, but you never imagined it would be you on the receiving end.

Marcus took your silence as an opportunity to express his anxious thoughts. He hesitantly cupped your cheeks in his large hands, which easily dwarfed your face. Your eyes fluttered shut at the calloused warmth. He gently tipped your head up with both thumbs placed under your jaw. "Look at me. Please, open your eyes and look at me." He breathed out a sigh of relief when you did just that.

The wavering in his voice was unmistakable as he warned, "Do you know what would happen if the king ever found out that you went off north? Hm? He would find a way to get you back, or worse--kill you." The last part is spoken with such strain, as if uttering it might make it a reality. The horrifying image of your public execution flashes in your mind: your delicate body hanging from a rope, wrists bound behind your back, or your head placed on a wooden block, awaiting the fatal blow of an axe.

You knew there was a possibility of that happening. Your father was an ignorant man, but he was a dangerously intelligent one. Ignorance, the root and stem of all evil.

Your hands slowly slide up his forearms until you're holding onto his wrists, your thumbs tracing the dark hair and veins. Despite his firm grip, you try to shake your head, but he tuts softly, mirroring your motion. As he begins to speak, urging you to stop ignoring the possibilities, you gently place your fingers over his mouth, silencing him with a tender smile and a soft stroke of his jaw.

"My love," whispering to him and doing your best to remember his facial features. "I would rather die by the hands of my father than live a life that I do not want." Marcus' eyes shut tight, and he knocks his forehead on yours, sniffling quietly to keep his tears at bay. "Oh, my dear knight. I wish for a life where I wake up beside you in the mornings and fall asleep beside you at night. I wish for a life where you can kiss me in front of guests and twirl me around in my extravagant gowns." Marcus lets out a watery chuckle and allows his tears to fall onto your cheeks. "I wish for a life where I can fight alongside you to keep our kingdom safe from the enemies that lurk outside these walls. Whatever it is that I wish for, although they may never come true, I need you to know that you will always be a part of them, for you are the greatest wish of them all."

His trembling lips meet yours once more. His breathing is unsteady, punctuated by sniffling. The warmth of his thick tears mingles with your own on your cheeks. Fates of two, entwined. The two of you pull away, snapping the thin string of saliva that stays on your kiss-bitten lips. When your eyes open, you find yourself peering into his own. The confession was stuck on your tongue. You couldn't tell how you really felt. Leaving him with such a goodbye and further breaking his heart would do you both no good, so you thought.

"I, um... I should head back to my chambers, Knight Acacius," you softly tell him, hoping he can hear the teasing lilt in your voice as you speak his title. The barely-there grin on his lips showed that he did catch on to your teasing--just like old times.

"Foolish girl," he whispers, the smile never once fading as his eyes take in the rest of your features, permanently engraving your beauty in his mind to come back to.

"Foolish man," you whisper back, using one hand to brush his curls from his forehead, slowly sliding your hand down the back of his head, down to his neck, and finally curling your fingers through the curls that rest there.

Hand in hand, Marcus leads you both back to your balcony. The rope hangs limp, still tied around the pillar. You stand there for a few seconds, just looking up at your balcony and remembering all of the private conversations and shy touches you and your knight have shared. Turning in your spot, never once letting go of his hand, you kiss his frown away. His other hand cups your cheek again, your jaw now familiar against his palm. Pulling away one last time, you wipe at the stray tear on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Marcus Acacius," you whisper brokenly.

The moment is heavy with unspoken words as he whispers a goodbye, his hand lingering in yours until the distance pulls you apart. You watch his broad form retreat, his hand lifting to his face, likely to wipe away tears. As he disappears around the castle, a sense of finality settles in. Glancing up at the balcony, you do what you've done for the past few months. Climbing up the rope for one last time and steadying yourself onto the parapet, it was bittersweet.

As you stand in the room you grew up in, thinking of all the memories shared in here, there was a small set of knocks on the door. You pause, heart racing, as the knock echoes through the room once more. Who could it be at this hour? You quickly glance around, ensuring everything is in place. The makeshift sack is secure, the rope is still tied and ready for your departure, and your mind races with possibilities. Taking a deep breath, you move towards the door, each step filled with anticipation. As you reach for the handle, you can't help but wonder if this unexpected visitor will alter the course of your journey.

With your hand on the handle, you do an experimental tug. Surprisingly enough, it was unlocked. It wasn't unlocked before you snuck out to meet with Marcus. You pull the door open wider and wider, wincing at the obnoxious creaking and hoping it doesn't wake your father. As you finally pull it open, your mouth drops, and your eyes widen at the man that stands before you.

"What..." You had no time to finish your sentence before Marcus is charging inside, his large hands grabbing your face and kissing you as ferociously as the first time. He kicks the door shut with his boot and shoves his body deeper into the room, your feet desperately trying to keep up with his long strides.

Marcus forces himself to pull away from your lips. There's a metaphorically magnetic force that keeps pulling him back. He stands before you, skin flushed and hair wild. His breathing was fast and heavy. "I just..." He tries to explain himself. "I just... I needed to see you one last time. I needed to... to say goodbye... just one last time, my princess."

The intensity of the moment is blinding. Desperation and longing fill the air as you lock eyes with him, unable to resist the magnetic pull. His gaze, filled with an unfamiliar hunger, grows more intense with each passing second. The tension is almost tangible, and you've made your decision. With a firm grip on his neck, you draw him closer for another passionate kiss.

One kiss turns into two. Two turns into five. Five turns into hands grabbing at clothes and sneaking underneath to grasp at naked flesh. What happens afterwards is a memorable blur. You only wished you could have yourself a private artist to paint yours and Marcus' naked bodies in acts of pleasure. You would've hung it up proudly in the dining hall above your designated throne.

The haziness of sleep enveloped you as you shifted, feeling the comforting weight around your waist and the solid presence of a broad body behind you. His strong chest pressed gently against your back. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you snuggled closer to Marcus, seeking the warmth radiating from his naked body. He was like a furnace, a quality you found endearing. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the sky had turned a deep blue—your favorite "blue hour." It wasn't sunrise yet, so you still had time to savor this peaceful moment.

Marcus shifts behind you with a hoarse groan. His arm tightens around your waist, a gentle reminder that he wants you close. As you roll over to face him, the tranquility of the moment envelops you both. The room is peaceful and quiet, with Marcus' half-lidded, puffy eyes reflecting the intensity of the night before. You can only imagine that you look just as marked by the shared experience.

"You look so beautiful," his voice low enough to almost sound like a hum. It slowly brings a smile to your kissed lips. Laying almost nose to nose, you let out a small sigh as the heartache returns after the momentary distraction. "I know, my darling."

His thumb brushes across the apple of your cheek before gently gripping your chin to place a lazy kiss on your lips. Marcus Acacius was intoxicating. After just a taste, you found yourself craving more, longing to quench your thirst for him. The breeze gently blowing through the sheer curtains had you shivering. Marcus glides a hand up and down your arm, further warming you with his natural body heat.

"Wherever you may end up, my darling, be sure to write to me every once in a while, yeah? And let me know where you stay so that I can visit you whenever I can," Marcus' words, spoken softly, carried a promise of connection despite the distance. His eagerness to stay in touch after your secret departure sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The thought of your relationship possibly growing in the future filled you with excitement and hope.

The confession was pursed on your lips, words ready to be spoken. Marcus could see it on your face, the light in your eyes brightening along with your smile.

A boisterous horn suddenly blew from the outer walls of the castle, followed by another, and another. Marcus sat up with lightning speed, the sheets pooling around his waist. Faint shouting echoed from the halls and outside the castle. Both of you jumped out of bed, sheets wrapped around your bodies, and ran to the balcony to see what was happening. Behind you, Marcus hurriedly dressed, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled.

"Marcus, what is going on?" Worriedly asking him and rushing over with furrowed brows. You redress into your gown, watching with wide eyes as the knight makes a mad dash to the balcony once again, cursing under his breath as he sees smoke rising from beyond the trees by the main gate.

The urgency in his voice was unmistakable. "The castle has been infiltrated. We need to go. Now!" he barked, though you knew he didn't mean to be harsh. The blaring horns and escalating shouts only fueled your rising panic, making it harder to stay calm.

As Marcus led you through the chaos, the clamor of the knights' armor and the echo of their hurried footsteps filled the halls, creating a symphony of urgency. You clung to Marcus, feeling the strength and determination in his grip. His protective stance gave you a sense of safety amidst the turmoil, as you both navigated the perilous path ahead.

One of the novice knights spotted you both and hurried over, his close helm lifted slightly above his head to speak clearly. His skin was flushed and sweaty.

The urgency in the young knight's voice was evident. "Knight Acacius! Princess!" he called out, his breath quick and eyes wide with alarm. "The Prince of Ivanard and his army have breached the walls! We must act swiftly!"

Marcus's panicked expression morphs into something far more sinister. His jaw clenches, and a vein in his neck bulges noticeably. He gives the young knight a stern nod before dragging you up the stone spiral steps to the chambers where the other knights sleep. The shouting outside grows louder, and your head darts back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse through the stone windows. Marcus pulls your arm harder, nearly wrenching it from its socket as he slams his shoulder into the door of his chambers.

"You said you wanted to become a Dame ever since you were a child, yes?" He hurriedly asks you as he slides on his armor with urgency. He's throwing a number of clothing items over his shoulder, metal clanging against metal and glass breaking onto the ground. He shoots you an impatient look as he hurries over to his closet.

"Yes, ever since I was a child," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the chaos around you. He nods, his eyes filled with determination as he continues to prepare. "Then let's make sure you get that chance," he says, his tone resolute.

He slides out a rather large chest. It creaks open, revealing a set of armor that mirrors his own, but in a size that fits you perfectly. As he hands it to you, your heart races with a mix of surprise and anticipation. This armor, crafted with care, is meant for you.

"Marcus," you shakily began to speak but the words died on your tongue, fingers sliding over the piece of metal. Attached inside the body armor was a byrnie, with interlocking iron rings. The small-looped chains drooped to cover any open areas. The intricate detailing of the metal molding had you staring in awe for a split second before you remembered the probable battle happening around you.

Looking back up at him, Marcus gives you a singular nod and reaches an arm out to you. Glancing down at what was being held in his hand, tears pricked at your eyes upon seeing it was William's sword. Your father had taken it from you prior to locking you in your room. His focus remains unwavering as he watches you slide on the armor over your gown. You must've looked like a fool, but Marcus looked at you with a proud glint in his eye, though his face doesn't show it. It was difficult to snap back from Knight Acacius to your Marcus during a time like this.

Holding the sword firmly, you feel its weight settle in your palm. You glance at Marcus with a look that speaks volumes. He recognizes that look—the same one you had before the blaring horns interrupted you both. He knows you want to express your gratitude for everything he's done for you and your family, even though you've always considered him part of the family.

There was an intensity that was hard to ignore as he steps closer, his gloved hand gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss. The kiss conveys all the emotions he has been holding back. As you both pull away, breathless, Marcus places a tender kiss on your forehead and whispers, "You can tell me after we have won the battle."

With that whispered promise, you give him a determined nod and slide on your dirtied boots, which he also snagged from your father. As you both rush out, darting down the steps, turning corners, and navigating the exhaustingly long hallways, you think about Celeste for a split second. As if she could read your mind, she turns the corner and nearly crashes into you.

"Oh, my dear child!" She cried out helplessly, looking back and forth between you and Marcus, her hair disheveled and tear tracks staining her cheeks. You see her face change as she notices the armor adorning your body and William's sword in your hand with your other hand tightly clasped in Marcus'.

The silent understanding was evident in the way her lips parted and her eyes subtly widened. She cupped your cheek with a wrinkled, shaky hand, then looked at Marcus, giving him a nod before doing the same to you.

"You come back to me; do you understand?" The tremor in her voice was unmistakable. Celeste had always been a strong woman. She never once allowed anyone to see her break down. At a time like this, seeing you, the closest thing she has to a daughter, fully dressed in the armor you dreamt of wearing when you were a child at knee-height, made her feel like the proudest mother ever.

Holding onto her forearm, you give her a hasty kiss on the cheek before being hurried away by Marcus. You hadn't thought to ask Celeste about the whereabouts of your father. Considering she was all alone and running around like a chicken with its head chopped off, you assumed your father was hiding like the coward that he was.

"Once we step outside, you follow my lead. Is that understood?" Marcus's command echoes in your ears. With a firm grip on your sword, you mirror his readiness. His reassuring glance and the gentle release of your hand signal the gravity of the moment. Stepping onto the castle grounds, you exchange a final, resolute nod. Together, you advance towards the main gates, where Marcus' knights stand vigilant, their swords and shields at the ready.

The Prince of Ivanard stood opposite your kingdom's knights, exuding arrogance. His smug expression was infuriating. You gripped your sword tighter, remaining steadfast beside Marcus, who straightened his back and took his place in front of his own knights. There was a tense stare down between the two men.

"You have no business here," Marcus declared sternly, his voice resonating loudly and clearly to ensure that everyone nearby and at a distance could hear. "Do not begin what you cannot end, Prince of Ivanard."

The prince's expression contorted as his title was uttered with disdain. The urge to laugh bubbled within you, but you suppressed it, rising to stand tall, fixing a steely gaze on the man destined to be your spouse. Noticing your stance beside Marcus, the prince approached, flanked by his knights, his fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, but my business is here, Knight Acacius," he sneered, uttering Marcus' title with the same disdain he had shown him, yet Marcus barely reacted. "I have journeyed far for the princess to become my wife, and I shall not depart without her. Although, it seems like I am looking at a little girl playing dress-up instead."

Stepping forward, you positioned yourself before Marcus. He made a slight move to halt you but restrained himself, remaining behind. This moment was yours, the one you had been anticipating. You faced the prince without a trace of fear.

"As the princess and heiress of this kingdom, it is my duty to announce that you are not welcome here, Prince of Ivanard," you spoke loudly and clearly, silently applauding yourself for keeping your voice steady and stern. "Like Knight Acacius has previously stated, do not start something you cannot finish."

The atmosphere was charged with tension. Neither of you spoke. You and the prince exchanged silent stares, his body practically radiating anger. Despite the thick swallow you forced down your throat, your eyes remained fixed on him. A movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. The familiar scent told you it was Marcus. In a moment like this, his presence was everything you needed.

"Come with me now, and I won't take any drastic measures. Or continue this little charade and face the consequences," the prince says with a nonchalant shrug. "I advise you to make a wise decision, princess," he adds, elongating the title in a way that causes you to frown.

Taking a steady breath, you turn to look at Marcus and find him already watching you. He has been observing you the whole time. He sees the turmoil in your eyes and the hesitation in your gaze. In a hushed tone, he reminds you, "Remember your promise."

That was enough to light a match under you. Giving him one last determined nod, you faced the arrogant prince once more. "Prince of Ivanard," you announced loudly. "You are nothing more than a fat-kidneyed, crooked-nosed fool." Some of the knights on your side chuckled underneath their breaths, and even Marcus did too. The prince's facial expression grew red with fury. "Now, I advise you to put up a good fight rather than pretend your cock is bigger than most."

A prolonged silence ensues. The prince lets out a chuckle, devoid of any real mirth, as he nods to himself. His grip on his sword's handle tightens before he draws it from its scabbard. Lifting a hand into the air, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you rather than merely meeting your eyes. Abruptly, the unmistakable sound of metal-on-metal rings out as all the knights, both allies and adversaries, draw their swords in unison.

The prince offers an emotionless smile. "May God rest your soul," he declares. Then, with a swift motion of his hand, he signals the commencement of the battle.

Battle cries echo from both sides, including you and Marcus. As allies and enemies clash, Marcus disappears into the throng. You raise your sword overhead and bring it down forcefully across the chest of an adversary knight. He emits a guttural squelch and collapses into a bloody heap on the ground. It feels as if everything around you is moving in slow motion. The only sound you can hear is the heavy, rapid thumping of your heart resonating in your ears. Your limbs ache from the effort as you push through the throng of people.

Swords clash against each other, against armor, and against flesh and bone. The battlefield echoes with the roars of men and the cries of agony as lives are lost. Marcus is known as a formidable warrior; his reputation as Knight Marcus precedes him. There is no doubt in your mind that he will emerge victorious.

Battling through the opposing knights, you weave and dodge until at last, you spot him: the Prince of Ivanard. With a swift motion, he cleaves through the abdomen of one of your knights, then kicks the fallen warrior away to free his sword. The knight's blood stains the sharpened blade, darkening under the glint of the rising sun.

He gazes down at the mangled body, a grin spreading across his face. Sensing a presence, he looks up to find you there, breaths coming heavy and wild, the sword in your hand trembling from the strain of fatigue. As your eyes lock, an unspoken understanding passes between you; you both know what must happen next.

With a battle cry, you charge at each other, swords clashing. Emitting a grunt like a wild beast, you push him back forcefully and swing your sword to the left—he parries. A swift slash from left to right catches him by surprise, and for a moment, as the blade arcs toward his face, he's off guard. He jerks his head back just in time, but not before the blade grazes his cheek.

"You are no more a man than I am," you say to him, your voice quivering with adrenaline and sheer fury. "You are a fool, and I would be an even greater fool to marry someone like you."

With a roar of anger, the prince raises his sword and charges towards you. You swiftly dodge to the side, rising to your feet with your sword gripped firmly in both hands. A glance at William's initials engraved on the blade fills you with a wave of determination to honor his legacy and become the warrior he believed you could be.

The battle with the prince is fierce and draining. Your muscles scream for relief, and sweat stings your eyes as it drips down your forehead. Thoughts of Knight Acacius, your Marcus, flash through your mind. In the distance, you can just make out his voice, yelling commands and fighting with unparalleled vigor, knowing his strength comes partly because you are in the fray as well.

Suddenly, as your attention falters for a mere half-second, your sword is knocked from your grasp. You gasp, watching in a trance-like slow motion as it arcs through the air and lands yards away on the blood-soaked, dirt-strewn ground. Turning back to face the prince, a searing pain blazes across your abdomen, eliciting a piercing scream of agony.

With wide, unfocused eyes and an open mouth, your hands clutched the prince's shoulders. Your bloodied fingers slid down the metal, soon grasping his forearms, tense as he thrust the sword deeper into your abdomen, undoubtedly driving the end through you. Emitting another agonizing wail, you glanced down at the gruesome sight.

Your blood, dark and viscous, spills forth, tainting the prince's hands and your soiled dress. The agony is beyond comprehension, leading you to ponder if William experienced this torment before his demise. As you attempt to utter a word, the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. The prince shows no remorse; instead, his expression reveals a disturbing satisfaction in your suffering. With each turn of the handle, a grotesque sound escapes, and you find yourself beyond the point of vocalizing your anguish.

He leans in close, his breath acrid, almost making you gag—if not for the blood trickling down the corners of your mouth. "You were fated to be my wife," he hisses. "And now, you will meet the same fate as your dear brother, at the hands of my father."

With a feeble, blood-stained smile and your body gradually succumbing to unconsciousness, you teeter on the brink of collapse. As you draw near to the prince, the sword lodged in your abdomen sends waves of searing pain through you. Each cough is a wet, gurgling effort, spattering clumps of blood onto the prince's chest plate.

Gazing into his eyes, your weak smile vanished as you told him in a faint voice, “You’re a coward… and history will forget you.”

The look of contentment on his face shifted to a grim shadow. His forehead creased, and the smile he wore flattened into a grim line. Emitting a guttural growl, he thrusts you back, wrenching his blade, now smeared with your blood, from your midsection. You collapse, the sensation of pain fading into a distant echo. Numbness overtakes you, your senses dulling as your heartbeat echoes, slower and slower.

"Tell William my father sends his greetings," the prince commands, hoisting his sword aloft as blood trickles onto his armor. Through half-closed eyes, you glimpse the blade's gleam, your own heartbeat resounding in your ears. Thoughts of Celeste, William, Marcus, and your mother flicker through your mind in mere seconds. With closed eyes, you resign yourself to your destiny.

Suddenly, a sound like the crunching of bone filled the air. Breathing shallowly, you clear the fog from your vision and look up. The prince hadn't brought his sword down on you as he intended. Instead, a sight unfolded that you wished to etch into memory forever. A sword had been thrust through the prince's chest from behind, piercing his armor with such force that it passed clean through. His eyes were wide in disbelief, and his throat worked spasmodically, spewing thick gouts of blood that darkened his ginger beard to a deep crimson.

A deep, wild scream erupted from behind the prince. Suddenly, his body was hoisted into the air, the sword still impaled through him. His body rose higher and higher until the figure on the sword's other end came into view. The armor was unmistakable. Marcus' arms, now exposed without the protection of his armor, swelled and trembled from exertion and adrenaline. He unleashed another roar, a battle cry of pure fury. His expression was unrecognizable; he was no longer the Marcus you knew. This was Knight Acacius, the fearsome warrior known for his savage prowess in battle and his unwavering leadership in protecting his people. The prince's twisted, lifeless form was now suspended above Marcus' head as he continued to scream, his body almost quivering with the rush of adrenaline.

"Deliver a message to William," he snarls, his voice thick with fury, "Knight Acacius sends his regards." With a forceful motion, he casts the prince's body aside, the sword remaining impaled within.

A sudden rush of emotions swept over Marcus' face. It was evident in the way he gazed down, shaking off his persona as Knight Acacius. His lips moved frantically, yet their words were nearly lost beneath the pounding of your heart. Collapsing to his knees, his hands trembled violently as he placed a gentle hand upon your abdomen. Though he knew no aid could be rendered, the helplessness he offered supplanted the anger with profound heartache.

"No, no, no, no," he wailed, his face contorting as he failed to hold back his cries of despair. He shakily cradled your cheek, now ice-cold against the warmth of his blood-flecked palm. "Oh, my sweet princess. No, no, no."

"Mar…" you struggled to speak, the blood in your throat surfacing repeatedly despite your efforts to swallow it. Breathing became increasingly difficult; each inhale exacerbated the bleeding, soaking Marcus's hand further. "I… I'm…"

He silences you softly, stifling his tears as your breaths become shallower and your limbs grow feeble. He observes your hand dragging across the ground towards him. With a sorrowful heart, he reveals your injury, averting his gaze as he tenderly takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. Your lips quiver into a faint smile. The ongoing battle fades into obscurity; in this moment, there is only you and Marcus.

A lonesome tear trails down your temple. Marcus tenderly wipes it away, maintaining eye contact with your half-closed eyes. He recognizes your effort to stay awake for him. With one hand still cradling your limp hand to his cheek and his other cupping your own cheek, he exhales a shaky breath, the ache in his heart intensifying with each torturous second.

As he gazes down, observing your eyes roam over his features as they always did, he reflects on every shared moment from the past few months. He realized he loved you from the start. Yet, he never found the right moment to declare it. Now, Marcus is burdened with the regret of his silence, only breaking it as you lie before him, on the brink of your end.

"I…" His voice falters as he begins to speak. "I am a foolish man, my princess. I should have told you… how much… how deeply I…" Tears hinder his words, the floodgates of his emotions opening as he watches the light of life dim in your eyes.

The realization that you will no longer be together brings more tears to your eyes. You long to cry out to him, but the fear that your wails would force blood from your mouth, leaving a haunting image for him, holds you back. You do not wish for that to be the last memory Marcus has of you before your agonizing death.

"Come," you whisper hoarsely through the gurgling of your blood. You must tell him before the darkness engulfs you forever. You must tell him before he is left to roam the earth aimlessly without you.

Marcus gently lowers his head and turns until your lips graze his ear. The rattling sound of your breath causes him to close his eyes, his lips pressing a kiss to your wrist against his jaw. He listens intently, deciphering your hushed whispers, understanding at last what you're attempting to convey.

"Love…" you whispered in agony, your lips quivering against his ear as you coughed, inadvertently staining his golden skin with your blood—a skin you would no longer caress with your fingertips or savor with your tongue.

Marcus feels his heart almost cease to beat when he hears the single word that escapes your lips. Your last word, a confession of your feelings for him, irrevocably breaks his heart. He realizes he will never whisper those words against your skin as you both lie beneath the moon's glow, lost in bliss. Nor will he utter them against your lips in a kiss, as if you were the finest wine ever tasted. And he could never whisper them to another, for no one could ever evoke the emotions you stirred in him.

Marcus looks down at you, his expression shattered, knowing it's the last thing you'll see before darkness engulfs you in its icy hold. He kisses you, the blood from your lips staining his. He kisses you one final time, aware that the moment he pulls away, you'll slip into the void.

Finally, he forces himself to break away from your lips. With one last gaze into your eyes, he whispers tenderly, "Now I must remember you for longer than I have known you." Upon hearing his final confession, your vision blurs, speckled with black dots. The roughness of his scruff under your palm fades away. You no longer feel the wound or the blood seeping out, soaking the earth beneath you.

And as your eyes close for the final time, Marcus' anguished scream is the last sound you hear before slipping deeper into the embrace of death.

[justabigassnerd]

Anxieties

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 3,918

Warnings - angst, fluff, anxieties, Kojo is the best boy, brief mention of nightmares

Summary - after the ordeal with your uncle, your anxieties begin to take hold of you, worrying the others

A/N - hey y'all it's finally time for another fic! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get a new fic out, this was an anon request and I hope I did it justice. I won't ramble but as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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In the few weeks that passed after the ordeal with your uncle, you had found yourself on edge a lot more than normal. You felt like every time you surveyed a room, or walked down a street alone, you could see your uncle. But the moment you looked away and then looked back, he was gone. The logical part of your brain knew that Steve had been locked away and that Tim would never let him get near you but part of you was terrified that he’d somehow escape unnoticed and come after you. After all, Steve knew where you lived.

Despite all your anxieties, you hadn’t told Tim about them. He made it known that you could come to him about anything that was troubling you and you appreciated his willingness to be there for you. But you were scared that Tim would think you were being stupid for being so worried. So you opted to suffer in silence, constantly on edge and suffering from reoccurring nightmares about Steve hurting those you love.

Unbeknownst to you, Tim was suffering in his own fair share of anxieties regarding your safety. He always made sure that someone he trusted was picking you up from school now instead of relying on the school bus. He had asked you to send him regular updates throughout the day just to make sure you were okay and he even got the idea from Nolan to implement a safe word plan to let him know if anything was wrong or if you were completely fine.

“Chen, I’ve got a meeting with Kiara in a few, do you think you could pick y/n up for me?” Tim asks, bumping into Lucy as she is on her way out of the locker room, now in her civvies instead of her uniform. Tim had begun to have regular meetings with Kiara about moving forward with adopting you, she had been talking him through everything and he was soon going to have the official paperwork he was going to surprise you with somehow.

“Yeah, that’s fine I can do that,” Lucy says with a smile, already beginning to dig her car keys out of her pocket as she nods.

“Thank you,” Tim says gratefully, pulling out his phone to text you and let you know that Lucy would be picking you up before bidding Lucy goodbye and making his way to Grey’s office to pick up the paperwork he needed to do. Lucy heads out to her car, gets in, and drives in the direction of your school as she hums along to the song on the radio.

“Looks like Lucy is picking me up today.” You mumble as you read the text on your phone while you and your friends exit the school building.

“What have you done that means that you’re now being picked up every day instead of taking the school bus like you used to?” Juliet asks jokingly, wondering why you had suddenly stopped taking the bus.

“I don’t know. Maybe there was a rough case and Tim just wants to make sure I’m safe.” You shrug. You hadn’t told your friends about what had happened with your uncle but you didn’t think that you being picked up regularly was a product of that as it started a week after the incident. You had just come to the conclusion that Tim had gone through a rough case that caused this. As you glance around you quickly locate Lucy’s car as she pulls up and you say goodbye to your friends with the promise to text them later before heading over to the car, greeting Lucy as you get in.

“Hey y/n/n. How was school?” Lucy asks cheerfully as you get into the car, putting your bag in the footwell in front of you before buckling up your seatbelt.

“It was okay. It was school.” You say with a light shrug, offering Lucy a smile.

“Any fun gossip from today that you can tell me but not Tim?” Lucy then asks as she starts the car beginning the drive to your house. Over the time you had known her, Lucy had become your confidant. Anything you wanted to tell someone about that you weren’t ready to talk to Tim about, you could go to Lucy and she’d support you and give you advice when you needed it.

“No, sorry.” You say with a slight laugh as Lucy groans jokingly. The two of you continue to chat with each other until you make it home and you invite Lucy in as you usually did when she drove you home.

“Did you want to take Kojo on a walk with me?” You ask as you unlock the front door, looking over at Lucy as she nods.

“I’ll never turn down an opportunity to hang out with Kojo,” Lucy says with a smile, entering the house behind you, immediately crouching down to pet Kojo as he comes over to greet you while you put your bag down and grab Kojo’s lead. 

“Let’s go then, buddy.” You say to Kojo, clipping his lead on before the two of you leave the house again with Kojo trotting loyally by your side.

“Hey, do you want me to text Jackson and have him meet us at the park?” Lucy asks, pulling her phone out of her pocket as you nod with a smile.

“The more the merrier.” You say as Lucy types a message to Jackson. You felt a little safer knowing there would be not one but two police officers with you so if something did happen, both Lucy and Jackson would look out for you. You and Lucy continue to talk as you make your way to the park, settling down on a bench and playing fetch with Kojo once you arrive while you wait for Jackson to arrive. Before too long has passed, Jackson arrives, greeting you both with a smile before joining you on the bench, watching as Kojo sniffs around the park, investigating.

“How does it feel knowing you guys aren’t rookies for much longer?” You ask curiously, looking over at the two as Kojo comes trotting over, sitting by your feet and dropping the ball in his mouth at Jackson’s looking up at him and quietly begging for Jackson to throw the ball which he does so, sending Kojo darting off after it.

“It’s weird. But exciting. I can’t wait to patrol and not worry about when the next ‘Tim Test’ will happen.” Lucy admits with a laugh as Jackson nods in agreement.

“I mean I didn’t have Tim as my TO but I’m ready to get out on the streets without someone watching my every move,” Jackson says, watching as you nod. The three of you continue to talk about everything that comes to mind until Kojo comes trotting up to you, panting and signalling that he’s done playing.

“Come on, we’ll walk you home. I’m sure Tim will be home soon anyway.” Lucy says as all three of you stand from the bench and as you look up after clipping Kojo’s lead back on his collar you could’ve sworn that you caught sight of Steve disappearing behind a tree and it made you freeze in place, your breath hitching in your throat as you watch carefully to see if the person emerges again or not.

“Hello? Earth to y/n.” Lucy says, waving a hand in front of your face and bringing you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You say sheepishly, not missing Lucy and Jackson’s worried glance between each other.

“Is everything okay?” Lucy then asks, watching you carefully before Jackson speaks up.

“Did you see something?” Jackson asks, immediately on high alert as he surveys the park, looking for any suspicious behaviour.

“No, I just zoned out for a minute. Everything’s fine.” You say quickly with a weak chuckle before turning on your heels and walking off with Kojo by your side with Lucy and Jackson rushing after you. They were both worried about you but with your dismissive attitude, they didn’t want to push too much and drive you back into your cocoon after all the progress you’d made since being fostered, so as they followed you, they decided they’d bring it up with Tim and see if you’d open up to him about anything that was bothering you.

“Hey, is it okay if we come in and wait for Tim with you? I wanted to ask him something.” Lucy asks as you approach the house, turning to face them with a nod and a small smile.

“Yeah, he’s evidently not back yet so I’m fine if you come in to wait.” You say, unlocking the door and allowing them to come in while you crouch down to unhook Kojo from his lead, watching as he trots off in search of his water bowl. You, Jackson, and Lucy then sit in the living room and make small talk until you hear the key in the door and Tim announce his arrival, making you get up to greet him.

“Hey, Tim.” You say as you meet Tim by the door, hugging him quickly and missing the way Tim’s eyebrows furrowed at your greeting. Since the incident with your uncle, you’d started calling Tim ‘Dad’ a bit more often. You weren’t fully confident about calling him that in public or in front of other people just yet and Tim was okay with that, he just found it odd that you were calling him ‘Tim’ at home but when he heard more footsteps and looked up to see Lucy and Jackson he understood your shyness.

“Chen, West, what brings you here?” Tim asks as he releases you from the hug, watching as the two approach.

“We just wanted to talk to you about something,” Lucy says, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

“Okay,” Tim says simply.

“I’ll go to my room to give you some privacy.” You whisper quietly, grabbing your bag off the floor and heading to your room. Kojo follows behind you to keep you company while Tim, Lucy, and Jackson sit in the living room to talk.

“What’s up?” Tim asks, glancing between the two rookies as they each take a deep breath.

“We’re a little worried about y/n,” Lucy says, starting the conversation as Tim’s eyebrows furrow in thought.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Tim asks, already bracing his hands on either side of himself, ready to push himself onto his feet to go and check on you.

“We don’t know exactly but we both joined her when she took Kojo for a walk and just as we were getting ready to leave the park it was like she zoned out and she looked a little scared almost,” Jackson explains as best he can, recalling the event from earlier. Tim listens carefully thinking everything over in his head to try and figure out what it is that’s wrong.

“And she didn’t say anything?” Tim presses, wanting to get as much information out of the two as he can.

“She didn’t say anything. She said she was fine but I don’t fully buy it.” Lucy says, watching Tim carefully as he nods, carefully listening to every word she says.

“I’ll keep an eye on her. I don’t want to force her to tell me anything unless she’s ready to. But thank you for letting me know.” Tim says, nodding appreciatively at the two as they offer a small smile each before they decide to head home, both of them bidding Tim a quiet goodbye before they leave the house, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts until you appear in the doorway to the living room.

“Did Lucy and Jackson go home?” You ask, immediately noticing that the two are no longer in the house.

“Yeah, they left not too long ago. Sorry, I should’ve let you know they were leaving.” Tim apologises, watching as you shake your head with a small smile.

“I’ll see them again soon enough, it’s fine.” You say, assuring Tim that it was okay. In response, Tim nods with a tight-lipped smile as he gets to his feet.

“You hungry? I was going to make some dinner.” Tim asks, watching as you nod quietly, following him to the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island and watching as Tim starts to get out various ingredients.

“Where’s Kojo?” Tim asks, noticing the lack of Kojo’s presence.

“He must’ve worn himself out on our walk because he hopped up on my bed and fell asleep before I’d even started my homework.” You say with a laugh.

“Well, we’ll let him sleep then. How else is he going to get the energy to drag me around on tomorrow morning’s walk?” Tim jokes, making you shake your head, laughing at the image of Tim being dragged around by Kojo.

“We can’t let him miss out on his dinner though.” You say watching Tim shake his head with a smile.

“Oh, he’ll know when it’s time for his dinner. You know that.” Tim says as you recall all the times Kojo used to paw and whine at you and Tim when it got close to his dinner time. You help Tim make dinner and he keeps a close eye on you, seeing if he can pinpoint any unusual behaviours from you. By the time you’ve finished making dinner and sat down to eat, Kojo had emerged from your room and demanded his dinner which you gave to him after you finished eating. As you finish tidying up after yourself, you turn to face Tim.

“I’m going to finish off my homework. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” You say, receiving a quick nod from Tim before you head off to your room, settling down at your desk and opening your laptop. Unbeknownst to Tim, you had actually finished your homework relatively quickly and easily earlier in the day, instead of doing any schoolwork when you opened your laptop, you opened a new tab and quickly searched up the recent news in Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned the various headlines that popped up, searching to see if there was anything to do with your uncle and him potentially escaping from prison somehow. You could feel your heart pounding and feel your mouth drying up as anxiety begins to wind itself around every part of you. When you read through the entire day’s worth of news, you let out a soft sigh of relief at the realisation that your uncle was still in prison. Despite the reassurance, you couldn’t shake the anxiety off that easily. Even after reading the various news headlines, even refreshing the page several times to double-check that nothing new had come through but even multiple checks couldn’t put your anxious mind at rest. You then decided to try and take your mind off it by catching up on some shows you and your friends have been talking about. You managed to watch a few episodes, but the moment a plotline came up in one of the crime shows where it depicted a convict escaping prison, you had to close your laptop and walk away from your desk. Your anxiety was now in high drive and you didn’t know how to stop it.

As if he sensed your troubles, Kojo nosed his way into your room as you sat down on the end of your bed, propping himself up on your legs using his front paws and resting his head on your lap, whining softly as he looked up at you.

“Hey, buddy.” You whisper shakily, beginning to pet Kojo softly, feeling your pounding heart begin to slow at the comforting presence of the dog. Taking your subtle cue, Kojo hauls himself up onto the bed alongside you, laying himself fully across your lap, the weight of your beloved dog helping to ground you even further as you repeatedly stroke his head. You stay put with Kojo for a few minutes before you decide to get ready for bed, having had enough of the day. You settled in bed, reading one of your lighthearted books with Kojo at your feet, and after about twenty minutes, Tim knocked on your door, entering with permission.

“Hey, kid.” Tim greets you softly, crossing to your bedside and smiling down at you.

“Hey.” You greet, putting your bookmark into your book and closing it, looking up at Tim.

“Goodnight, if you need me you can come and get me,” Tim says, leaning down to give you a hug which you reciprocate with a smile.

“I know, goodnight Dad.” You reply quietly, your smile widening slightly when you feel Tim tighten the hug ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Tim says, releasing you from the hug, reaching down to pet Kojo and then making his way out of your room and back to his own room to go to bed. You choose to stay up a few more minutes, reading your book to put your mind at ease enough to fall asleep and when your eyelids begin to grow heavy, you put your book down, turned your light off and drifted off to sleep.

A few hours later, you bolted up in bed, panting heavily with tears in your eyes and fumbling to switch your lamp on as Kojo lifted his head, watching you quietly.

“Sorry buddy.” You whisper, reaching over to pet Kojo. He lets out a soft whine, stretching over to rest his head on your lap, and you try to force the memories of the nightmare out of your head. As you sit there petting Kojo, you feel your mouth drying up in your anxiety so you gently move Kojo off your lap and head out to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

While you headed off to the kitchen, Kojo hopped off your bed and made a beeline to Tim’s room, pawing at the door to push it open enough for him to creep in. Kojo made his way into the room, propping his front legs on the bed and pawing at Tim, waking him up instantly.

“Kojo, go to sleep,” Tim says, cracking an eye open and seeing the dog watching him. When he attempted to close his eyes, Kojo pawed at Tim once more, whining and making Tim open his eyes again, this time propping himself up on his elbow as he switched his lamp on.

“What is it?” Tim asks, aware of how silly it is to be asking a dog for an answer but after seeing the almost worried look on Kojo’s face, he starts to grow concerned himself.

“Is something wrong with y/n?” Tim then asks, and at his words, Kojo pushes off the bed and walks over to the door, looking back at Tim over his shoulder as Tim pushes himself off the bed and follows Kojo as he leads him to the kitchen where you were stood cradling a glass of water, eyes full of tears as you stared out the window.

“y/n? What’s up, kid?” Tim calls out to you softly, not missing how you jumped at the sound of his voice before you turned to face him.

“I’m fine.” You try weakly, quickly lifting a free hand to wipe at the unfallen tears.

“Somehow I’m not convinced,” Tim says, a soft joking tone to his voice as he approaches you slowly.

“I just needed a glass of water, I promise I’m okay, Tim.” You try again and this time Tim shakes his head, knowing you weren’t okay.

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I promise I won’t be upset.” Tim says, standing opposite you and watching you carefully.

“Can we talk in my room?” You ask quietly, glancing over your shoulder and watching the window carefully as a sense of unease settles into your body.

“Of course. You head to your room with Kojo and I’ll be right behind you.” Tim says reassuringly, picking up on your nervousness and taking the appropriate action. You nod quietly, heading to your room with Kojo by your side while Tim stays behind, flicking all the lights off as he makes his way to your room before entering your room, finding you sat on your bed with Kojo practically curled up on your lap as you stroked him softly.

“Hey.” You say quietly as Tim pulls out your desk chair, pulling it alongside your bed and sitting on it, regarding you softly.

“What’s up, kid?” Tim asks as your focus drops to Kojo, a small smile appearing on your face as Kojo lets out a small huff of appreciation as you stroke him.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?” You ask quietly, briefly looking up at Tim before focusing back on Kojo.

“I promise I won’t think it’s stupid. Whatever it is, it’s got you shaken up pretty bad.” Tim assures you softly, letting you know there would be no judgement.

“I keep thinking I can see my uncle everywhere I go. I think I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye and then I’m anxious for the rest of the day. I’m constantly checking the news to see if he escaped and I’m terrified that he’ll get out and if he does, he knows where I live. I keep having nightmares about what happened a few weeks ago. And I’m terrified he’s going to do it again.” You explain, tears welling in your eyes as Tim’s expression softens.

“He’s not going to get out. And in the very rare event that he does, he’d have to be prepared to get through almost all of the LAPD before he could hurt a hair on your head. I can promise you that.” Tim says, his voice never wavering as you reach up to wipe more unfallen tears from your eyes. At Tim’s words, you nod lightly, still not completely at ease but you found comfort in Tim’s willingness to protect you.

“You’d really get the LAPD to protect me if he got out?” You ask quietly as Tim nods.

“There isn’t one thing I wouldn’t do to protect you. I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Tim says, watching you as you smile despite your tears, carefully moving Kojo off your lap so you can embrace Tim who is of course quick to accept the hug, holding you close as he feels you relax.

“Thank you, Dad.” You whisper gratefully, burying your face in his shoulder.

“No need to thank me, y/n/n. I’ve got you.” Tim says softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before releasing you from the hug, watching as you sit back on your bed, giggling as Kojo sits up and takes the opportunity to lick your cheek.

“I’ll let you get some more rest. But if you’re still anxious and need me don’t be afraid to wake me up. Or send Kojo to do it for you.” Tim says, petting Kojo as he stands from your chair, putting it back behind your desk as you get back into your bed. Once you’re under the covers, you say one last goodnight to Tim before lying down as he leaves your room, leaving you to fall into a comforting sleep, knowing that Tim would move heaven and earth to keep you safe and that you’d be protected no matter what.

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

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Moodboard Masterlist. My Ao3.

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Top Gun: Maverick

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

The Orange. ❁

You and Jake share an orange. He's in love with you.

For Eternity. (Part 2 of The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

North Star. ❁

It's New Year's Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

I Know Places.

Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Why Choose?

A drunken game of spin the bottle gets a little heated. Why choose, when you can have both?

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Dr Cupid.

Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

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Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Lessons in Love. ❁

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Honey Girl. ✯❁

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Trick or Treat.

You love Halloween. Bucky loves you.

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

Stucky

Letters to the Moon.

Steve is gone. The love you and Bucky have for him isn't.

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Frank Castle

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Multi Talented. ❁

Frank shows you exactly what you deserve.

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Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez

Wherever You Are. That's Where Home Is.

Luke might be a mind reader. Only with you, though.

Vice. ❁

Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Spencer Reid

Web of Lies. ✯

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep one from you.

Cowboy!Spencer ✯

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Narcos

Javier Peña

Self Control. ❁

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Western Nights. ✯

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Jealousy, Jealousy. ❁

Javier Peña doesn't share.

Two Murphy's and a Peña.

Javier knows Steve's sister is off limits. He's never been one to follow the rules.

After Hours.

You and Javier are stuck in the office in the middle of a heatwave. You're hot in more ways than one.

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Triple Frontier

Time. ❁

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will each have their own ways of helping you heal.

Tethered. ❁

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to the four boys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the guys told you they loved you.

Will Miller

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

You come home drunk, and have something burning you need to tell Will.

Best Friend's Brother.

You've known Benny for years. You've had a crush on his brother Will for years, too.

Frankie Morales

Find You.

A bad date brings Frankie Morales to your door at the perfect time.

Rain Soaked Romantic.

Frankie will run across town in the rain if it means finally telling you how he feels.

Santiago Garcia

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Precious Girl.

A chance meeting with your Dad's best friend at 2am.

Benny Miller

Adrenaline.

Ben needs a way to work off his post match energy. You.

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The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Pretty When You Cry. ❁

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

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Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Clandestine. ✯

You and Stewy know it's wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Fully Clothed.

Being Stewy's assistant has its perks.

Consequence.

Stewy's actions have unexpected consequences.

Needy.

You've been waiting all day for Stewy to get home. He loves it.

Play Pretend.

The classic fake dating trope, with a twist.

The Place Where It All Began.

You reunite with Stewy at your high school reunion. Turns out, he's been waiting for you, all this time.

Risky.

The thrill of being caught makes it all the more exciting.

Kendall Roy

Me and You.

You quit as Kendall's assistant. He's been waiting for this day.

Illicit Affair.

You're Matssons wife. You're also in love with Kendall Roy.

Forced Proximity.

The classic only one bed trope, this time with your emotionally unavailable boss.

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The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

The Roommate Collection. ✯❁

A collection of fics based on being roommates with Carmen.

Vienna.✯

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

Carmen. ❁

Carmen. Your Carmen.

Denial. ❁

Carmy can’t keep pretending.

Mechanic!Carmen.

Inspired by that picture of JAW in a crop top.

Perfectionist. ❁

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks. Especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

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9-1-1

Evan Buckley

Lightning Strike. ❁

The two of you deal with the aftermath of Bucks trauma.

Fire Hazard. ❁

The story of your firehouse nickname - and Buck unable to handle you in a sundress.

That Old Cliche. ❁

You swore you’d never give in to the best man and maid of honour cliche. And then you met Evan Buckley.

Evan Buckley & Eddie Diaz

The Look of Love. ❁

You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Heatwave. ❁

You cut Jax's hair. He can't keep his hands to himself.

Sundress Season. ❁

It’s sundress season. Jax can’t keep his hands to himself (again).

Filip 'Chibs' Telford

Teach Me How to Ride. ❁

Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Challengers

Two Can Play That Game.

You’re cheating on Patrick. You’re not proud of it, but it just… happened. Patrick’s cheating on you, too. He never meant for it to happen, but it just… did. Imagine the surprise from both of you when you find out that Art Donaldson is caught up right in the middle.

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Miscellaneous

Steve Harrington

Cherry. ✯❁

The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

An engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. What could go wrong?

[sapphoherselz]

howdy!! two literal people have asked for some andreil rec so here they are!! my most favest fics EVER in the first 60 ao3 pages (I'll keep updating tho as I read!)

Not yours to bleed:

The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.

At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.

Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.

 

**Updates every other Wednesday, whatever hell may come.**

The Sun Still Rises:

Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.

TALE OF A MARTYR IN XII PARTS:

Neil closes his eyes and counts the things that he knows:

One: Death has a name.

Two: He has met Death before. Several times, in fact.

Three: Someone is trying to kill him. Permanently. But it's only kind of working.

Or, the one in which Andrew is the Grim Reaper, Neil is very, very good at dying, over and over and over again. They teach each other a few things over the centuries.

Hearthlines:

The Fae king and queens have gone away, closing the knowes behind them and abandoning their offspring to the mortal world. As the Fae have spread far and wide, their bloodlines thinning if not vanishing forever as they flee from mortal persecution... two Fae have found a way to reopen the knowes - Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama. The Fae regroup once more, the balance of power shifted amongst them, and 'changelings' appear now and then in the mortal population.

Andrew Doe is one of those changelings, a young child suffering in the foster system, shunned by his peers for some reason and hearing voices in his head.

Alex - the latest name gifted to him by a charm - is on the run along with his mother from his father, using their talents as shadow walkers to slide between worlds and stay one step ahead of the powerful Fae. Except even that is not enough anymore. Except that's not Alex's only talent.

*******

An urban fantasy where I throw Fae, necromancy and magic at TFC characters, pretty much!

Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die):

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

Amor Vincit Omnia:

“I said it already,” the man said, “Your cluster.”

“But what does that mean?” Neil asked.

“It means that you are no longer just you,” the man said tersely, “Congratulations.”

It didn’t feel like anything worth celebrating.

A Sense8 AU where the foxes all share one subconscious and kick a lot of ass

The Real Thing:

Andrew was more than willing to turn down the Ravens' offer to be their newest goalie, unwilling to play five more years of Exy - let alone for someone with a too-sharp smile and a manic gleam in their eyes.

That was, until he realized that a member of their Perfect Court was his soulmate. (That was, until Riko Moriyama realized that Nathaniel Wesninski, the Ravens' #3 in waiting, was Andrew's soulmate.)

Andrew always knew that Fate loved tormenting him, he didn't need a reminder yet again via a too-attractive soulmate who appeared to loathe him. Yet things aren't always what they seem, especially in the Nest.

mad girl says she's wolf-proof:

Keeping her grip light on Nina’s throat, Andrea drops her gaze to her plump lips. She smiles—coldly, slowly. Fangs on fangs. Salt tombstones. It is not a nice smile, none of Andrea’s smiles are, but Nina’s eyes are stuck in it regardless. “And I will answer, all the better to eat you with.”

 

(Andrea Dobson vs girlhood and lycanthropy.)

lessons in caretaking:

Neil was acting shifty, and Andrew knew why; that motherfucker was leaving. Despite the promise between them, Neil was prepping to run. Andrew wasn't upset about that, not at all. After all, if notorious Neil "No-Swing" Josten needed to leave after Andrew admitted his desires regarding his proximity to Neil's shorts, who was Andrew to stop him. But that doesn't explain why Neil was stealing socks, or why he wanted Andrew's clothes.

Whatever. That was probably unrelated.

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards:

They’ve known each other since the Beginning. Not the Beginning Beginning—they didn’t meet until after the War in Heaven, where they kept to their own sides, or until after the subsequent Fall. It wasn’t even until after the Exodus from Eden, but only by a couple minutes. They’ve witnessed the rise and fall of empires, sampled all the cuisines the world has to offer, and weathered several very silly fashion trends.

Andrew doesn’t think they’re friends, exactly, but it is natural to become accustomed to the presence of the only other being who has been around more or less consistently for six millennia. It wasn’t anything more meaningful than that.

A Good Omens AU where Andrew is a grumpy angel, Neil is a sharp-tongued serpent, and it takes them literally six thousand years to figure out they belong together.