#i really want to see their wedding though :((((((

[just-some-random-blogger]

I cannot tell you how absolutely excited I was to see your reblog 😩😩😩😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶💓💓💓 I woke up to it and got heart palpitations

First off, omg Desi wedding? You're Desi? What a slay that must have been so much fun!!! I hear they are very elaborate and BIG so I can only imagine why it took so much for your time 🫶🫶🫶 super happy you still spare some for me 🥺👉👈

Okay, can I just start off by saying 🥺🥺🥺😩😩 I've missed your reblogs. I love it when people requote my stuff back. I LOVE to see what they think of my work. When I write, there are lines where I'm like yeah the girlies are gonna eat this shit up, but then again there are also lines where I'm like pls pls pls let people understand what I'm trying to put down.

You seem to always catch SOOOO MUCH of what I'm tryna put down and it makes me so so so happy fr fr that I can count on 🫵 you 🫵 to get me even if no one else does.

Of course perhaps more people understand me but you're the only one who ever says so and I appreciate it so much 🫶🫶

Daemon being twice as unnormal because he is lovesick be like 🫨 I think I had an ask about Rhaenyra and YN regarding this fic so them having a relationship might be something I might look into

Girl bye, daemons disregard for rhaenyra is making me feel good about the man whore that is daemon 😋😋

THIS HAS ME GAGGED AHHAHA

Something about how daemons intentions have perhaps always been misunderstood growing up and he's always been labeled as cruel/heartless so he stopped explaining himself. He had to bury that soft exterior and only knows how to give commands and now he's subconsciously commanding his wife to stop praying for her death. But she won't get to know it because it would seem like a weakness.

AND THIS ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😩😩😩

IM PASSING MY DRAFTS TO YOU, YOU CAN CONTINUE WRITING THE STORY. IM NOT EVEN JOKING THIS CHANGED MY BRAINS CHEMISTRY. IM NOT JOKING IM NOT IT REALLY GOT ME GAGGED

Him fighting different versions of himself as well is SOOO GOOD. Stunning observation. Beautifully said. I would have just called him emotionally constipated. To be fair, YN is too, though at least she tries not to be. It's hard to get out of it when everyone is fucking sick in the head

No, stop. I will never get over how she instinctively reached for her father. And how Otto reacts to it like it's muscle memory (it is). Because Otto is her father, she has been raised being loved, protected and shielded by him. And Otto has spent her whole life doing exactly that.

10/10 no notes. Otto and his twisted form of love cos he's greedy and ambitious as you have CORRECTLY OBSERVED FROM HOW HE IS USING ALICENT.

Also you wanting daemon to hear rumors of yn's death is cRAZYYYYYY I LOVE IT YOU KNOW WHAT IMMA DO IT. DAMN GIRL I KNEW I WANTED TO WAIT FOR YOUR REBLOG BEFORE UPDATING 😩😩😩 that would have been so gooooodd if I managed to add it ughhh. Dw dw I am an artiste I can make do. Also with him overhearing her fear UGHHHH YOUR MINDDDDDDDDD

I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THE NECT CHAPTERS MY LOVE IM SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Tormented Spirit | 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN. T_T canon stuff/medieval health care might not be accurate so ROLLLL with it ok. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon takes you to the dining room, and upon entering, you are met with Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were in the middle of eating lunch. For a split second, you are happy to see them both, but then you remember the horrible news regarding the princess's mother.

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

"My deepest condolences, my princess," you curtsy at Rhaenyra before placing a hand on her shoulder.

She is dejected and her eyes are sullen as she turns to you.

"She was in active labor last I saw her..." you shake your head, finding the words to say, "it is terrible to be without a mother," you turn to your sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as well, "the pain never quite leaves you. My sister and I know it well."

Rhaenyra turns back to her food, "how good to know."

You frown and crouch down beside her, "darling."

Rhaenyra slowly turns back to you, tears now falling from her eyes.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Alicent frowns, quickly feeling her own eyes well up at the display.

The same happens to Daemon. He watches three girls weep and his face hardens as he comes to Rhaenyra's side, "bisa tolī kessa rēbagon, ñuha riña." This too shall pass, my girl.

Rhaenyra turns to her uncle as he grabs her hand, heavy tears stream down her face, "ziry ōdragon." It hurts.

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then he notices Alicent begin to fuss over you. You softly brush her off as you come to stand. Alicent is quick to stand with you, and she is glad to have done so, because you nearly topple back.

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Rhaenyra stares at you as her uncle sits you in the chair across her She watches how Daemon treats you, thinking she's never seen him treat anyone like this before, much less a lady. It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

He brushes your back but only calms after your food is served and he's seen you eat a few bites. He takes a goblet of wine but his eyes remain fixed on you, "better?"

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

Alicent's eyes widen at the sound of the pet name. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes with a huff. It is precisely that sound that makes you realize what you've said. You were used to referring to Alicent and Rhaenyra that, it came so naturally this moment, "I- I mean-"

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw as she shakes her head, "mourning his lost heir."

Both you and your husband's face fall. You turn from the princess to the prince, reaching for his hand. Daemon clutches your hand as his brows constrict, "your brother is dead?"

"Just last night," Rhaenyra absentmindedly stirs her food, "his and my mother's funereal will be held in a few hours."

Your heart hurts for her, "my deepest sympathies for your losses, princess."

There is a thick silence for a moment. You all find it quite hard to eat, but you do so regardless. You force feed yourself through the unpleasant churn in your belly. After a while, you look across the room, finding that it looked everyone was experiencing the same thing. You break the silence, turning to your sister, "perhaps Alicent can accompany you to the temple to pray. It did always help me."

Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, but she does not react.

Your sister looks back at you and you give her a nod of encouragment. Alicent thinks for a moment, "a walk there would be good for you as well."

You smile at the red haired girl.

"My prayers are terrible," Rhaenyra mumbles.

You huff and frown at the thought, "it is impossible. No prayer is terrible, especially not one spoken in earnest."

Rhaenyra remembers how her septa would use you as an example for praying. She sniffles, "would you join us, aunt?"

You perk and immediately nod, "I would love t-"

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

You all turn to him as Daemon turns to you. You slowly shake your head, "if... that is the case, you do not have to come."

Daemon's eyes widen ever so slightly in offense.

"Perhaps you can wa-"

"Kesan daor mītepagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys," I will not lend you my wife, says Daemon to Rhaenyra.

You turn from your husband to his niece. Rhaenyra looks back at you, "he says he will not lend you to me."

Your lips part, giving him a look, "Daemon."

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

A long silence passes.

Rhaenyra stares at her half-empty plate and decides that's as much as she'll ever get to eat in this moment. She pushes her chair back and stands, "I'm quite finished," she looks between the table. Alicent takes a final spoonful before standing as well.

"Raqagon aōha ābrazȳrys, kepa," enjoy your wife, uncle, Rhaenyra says as she walks off. Alicent follows after her, and both girls look at you as you stand to greet them goodbye. Daemon simply looks at his niece.

Rhaenyra, though she always harbored a special affection towards her uncle, could not find it in her to project her ire out on you, for you were nothing but kind to her, and after all, you were her closest friend's older sister. She nods at you as she leaves, "princess."

"Princess," you nod back and do the same for Alicent, "sister. Take care of each other."

Once they are gone, you sit back down and glare at Daemon.

It takes a moment for him to realize it. When he catches your look, his brows contort. You immediately quip, "would it very hard for you to stomach the ambience of the temple for an hour?"

Daemon turns back to his plate. He thinks of the night he came to you at the temple, "just because I came for you does not mean I wish to do the same for Rhaenyra."

You knit your brows deeply, not having a clue on what he's saying, "what?"

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

"You forbid me?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"It is my prerogative where I go, and-" he turns back to you, "where my wife does."

You stare at him for a moment. You feel frustration bubble in your belly, "Daemon."

Anger bubbles in his belly.

You reach for his hand and gaze upon him in confusion, "the child's mother is dead."

He looks at your hand before his away, "I knew her mother longer than she has."

You chuckle in disbelief, pulling your head back. He looks at you, jaw set and eyes glassy. You shake your head slowly, "that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Daemon laughs, hurt by your sentiment.

"Her mother is dead," you shake your head rapidly, "she who taught her everything she kno-"

Daemon stands abruptly, jaw and fists clenched tightly, making you flinch. He stares at you for a long moment and you feel your breath begin to grow heavy. You slowly reach for his hand, half expecting him to rip his arm away. When he does not, you come to a stand, "Dae-"

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

His words stab you like a spear through the chest. Your eyes begin to water, "is that what you think I'm do-"

"Then what?!" he snaps, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

You begin to sob and you take his cheeks, "I'm trying to make you understand what I am thinking, why I want to go with Rhaenyra, because I know what it fee-"

"Do I not mourn?" Daemon swats your hand away from him. He quickly turns away when his tears begin to fall. He does not get to notice how you twitch at his action, nor how instantly your heart begins to race.

He walks off to the door, stopping for a moment, waiting for you to come after him. You do not.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Daemon, too wrapped up in his self-suffering, does not even think to look at you and storms out of the dining room.

By the time the doors slam shut, you are able to bring yourself to go after your husband. You move as quickly as you can, convincing yourself sprinting was worth it if you managed to catch up to Daemon. The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

Daemon, on the other hand, did not have to try to walk as fast as he did. He is walking so fast, if anyone were to crash into him, they would shoot off and hurt themselves.

It doesn't take long for you to lose your breath, and though you didn't want to, your body to forces you to stop. You were so close. You managed to catch a whiff of Daemon's silver hair, but now everything was turning silver... then black. You reach to the side to lean against the wall, but you miscalculate your reach and shift your weight, only to slip and crash roughly onto the ground.

You're so out of breath, no sound comes out of you when you crash. The pain is immense, yet you are rendered mute. Your ribs throb at the impact of colliding against the stone floor. You do not know it, but your nose it bleeding too.

It's a wonder that you did not pass out. Or perhaps it was the gods' will for you to feel fibre of your body strangle itself from how your lungs struggled, as punishment for being unkind to your husband.

You do know know it, but two Gold Cloaks find you on the floor. They are quick to bring you to the maester's ward. You hear them explain to the measter how they found you, and you muster up your remaining energy to say, "Daemon... please."

The two Gold Cloaks understand and leave with the intent of sending your husband to you. They will not manage to find him till much later for he went off on dragonback.

You lie on one of the cots in the maester's ward, staring at the ceiling you've come to know all too well. You know your maester can do little to help you in this moment, but you are grateful for his care nonetheless.

"You mustn't strain yourself in your condition, your grace," the old man says, "you are carrying a child within you."

You tense at his words. Your sit up and straighten your back, rapidly shaking your head, "b-but, maester, how can that be? It cannot be."

He offers you a solemn look, "your father, Lord Hand, has made us monitor you-"

"He does not finish inside me," you quip and frantically motion, "he- he... he spills on my skin. How then can I be with child?"

The maester is taken aback by your confession. He does not give himself away though and calmly explains, "it is still possible for... the seed take root from premature ejaculation."

You are floored by this information. You shake your head in disagreement, "but— he will not believe me."

"He does not have to. It does not ch-"

"He will do everything to villainize me. He will accuse me of infidelity."

He frowns, "I can explain it to-"

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

He pulls his head back, "your grace..." he brings your hands slowly off him, "you can only hide such a thing for so long."

You shake your head and bring yourself to stand, "it is a worry for another time."

"Wait- you cannot leave-"

"I cannot miss the queen's funeral."

The maester does his best to prevent you from leaving. He calmly tries to lead you back to bed and explain that no one would fault you for being unable to attend. You are persistent however and managed to get out of the room. Two other maesters come and try to reel you back in, and it is the same time your wards come running in.

News of you fainting had spread like wildfire, and both their faces were marked with avid worry. "Princess!" they call in unison.

"Make them release me!" you wail in exhaustion as you fight off the maesters.

"She cannot go," your maester says, "she is far too weak."

"Unhand her this instant!" Erryk barks, ready to forcefully shove the old men away from you.

The maesters pull away in shock and confusion as Erryk imposes upon them. Arryk is the one to keep you upright, and he is horrified by the state you are in. You lean into his armour, lulled by his hard steel as you sigh in exhaustion.

"You would subdue her in such a state?" Arryk snaps.

"She is hysterical," the maester says, "she is not strong enough to-"

"Aye, but she's strong enough to fight off 3 grown men?" Arryk grits his teeth as he keeps you upright, "have you not given her medication?"

He sighs, "there is no medication fo-"

"Then what business has she here?" Erryk raises his brows, "you'd keep her to rot?"

The man scoffs, "I am offended, ser, that you think you know better than I when it comes to the health of the princes."

"I do know better," Erryk snaps, "you will not treat her like a prisoner if she asks to leave again."

"Ha!" the maester snaps, "fine! I'm sure the days you've spent gutting men has made you learned in the ways to heal them, ser."

With that, the maesters leave and you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. You sigh as Erryk turns to you, seeing the hardness of his face soften in real time. You frown, "you should not have done that."

"My duty?" he narrows his eyes, "they had you surrounded like a criminal."

Arryk nods, "I fear they might have bruised you."

You sigh, fighting back tears. You steel yourself away and shake your head, "I should prepare for the funeral."

You do just that and Erryk and Arryk escort you to the funeral. You immediately spot Daemon, but he was stood beside his brother and niece, so you did not think it proper to interlope. You find Alicent standing just a few paces from Rhaenyra and debate to join her, but then you see the Lord Hand farther behind her, and you feel the need to cry.

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

Your father is quick to recognize your distress once you come to him, and quickly takes you under his arm. It is so instinctive, the Cargyll twins are shocked by it. They were supposed to keep close watch on you, but they decided to give you and your father privacy.

Otto had long decided physical affections were no use to you, and yet in this moment, he pulls you into him, securing one arm your shoulders. You press your cheek into his chest as you steal a glance at the king. Viserys stands before two lifeless bodies, and the sight mirrored that of the day your mother died.

You wrap your arms around your father.

He sighs, eyes throwing daggers at the Rogue fucking prince, "did he take the news badly?"

You shake your head, "I have not told him."

Otto sighs again, agitated and disappointed. His face is crestfallen as calls out your name, "what happened then?"

"I am terrified."

Your father tenses and clenches his jaw. He strokes your hair, doing his best to ignore the awful sounds you were making. "The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

After the funeral, once Otto made sure you are taken care off, he goes to his other daughter and asks about the princess. Alicent is quick to explain to him that Rhaenyra is so much like you when your mother died, "I have not seen Rhaenyra in such a state."

Otto offers Alicent a soft smile, placing a hand on her cheek, "you are ever empathetic, daughter, to both the princess and your sister."

"Sister did not look well at the funeral either. I should check up on her."

"That won't be necessary," her father raises a hand, "I've seen to her already. She needs only to rest now."

Alicent slowly nods.

"You ought to offer some empathy to the king however."

The girl tenses at the thought.

"Unlike your princesses, the king does not have people to go to at this time. Even now, he's secluded himself in his chambers. It would be good of you to go to him from time to time, if only to express how you keep him in your prayers."

Alicent tries to make sense of it. She clenches her jaw, "wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to do this, father?"

He chuckles lowly, "how much sadder would he be if a widower offer another widower his bitter prayers?"

She stills at the thought and understands. Or so she thinks.

Otto smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, "it might be best if you keep private your visits to him. You need not explain your concern to Rhaenyra to further distress her."

She nods in understanding. In truth, she does not understand the true intentions of her father, and will not until it is far too late.

As this was happening, you were trying to get ahold of Daemon. You could not for he was quick to leave the funeral right after it concluded. He had seen you crying to your father and wanted to wash his eyes with alcohol, unwanting to behold such a gruesome sight. It stung far too much that you sought comfort in that cunt face. Why didn't you cry to him instead?

Daemon washes alcohol down his throat instead with members of his City Watch at his favorite brothel. Mysaria is there to keep him company and though her touch and words are gentle, he cannot find solace in them like he once did.

The two guards who had found you on the floor earlier today hear about the gathering and go to the prince to tell him what had happened to you.

"Your grace."

Daemon sulks as he stares at a cup of wine. Mysaria, who was stood behind his chair, looks at the men then to the silver haired man, "my prince. These men want to speak to you."

"Wha-what for?" he snaps through a hiccup.

"Your wife, my prince," one says.

Mysaria stiffens, lips parting. She was not a stranger to Daemon's foul moods and prided herself in easily defusing them. It changed when he married the Hightower girl. Though it was evident most of his frustrations stemmed from you, you were too much of a touchy subject, which is why she says, "I do not think he wants to talk about her."

"A whore should not meddle with concerns she cannot understand."

Mysaria scoffs, thinking about how Daemon fucked her once and called out his bride's name. When she brought it up after, he screamed, telling her he doesn't pay her to ask questions. She steps back and crosses her arms, "be my guest then."

One of the two guards lean forward in an attempt to gain the attention of the distracted man, "prince Daemon. We wished to report something regarding your wife."

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

The two are taken aback. Mysaria steps back a few paces.

"N-no, your grace. But she-"

"Then do not FUCKING mention her to me!" Daemon snaps, jolting from his seat. His scream was loud enough to cause the noise to cease. He grabs his cup and downs his drink in one go. He then pushes past the two guards and begins to monologue.

"The gods give as the gods take," he says, voice horse and eyes misty. "Try as they may, I am not so easily replaced."

The room is solemn as they look upon the prince. He is clearly distraught and wholly drunk.

He stares at his cup, "wine does not taste sweeter with tears. Tonight, we drink to the Heir For A Day..." he burps, "perhaps he would have liked wine."

Back in the keep, as Alicent leaves her father's quarters, you go to them, which is why you cross paths. She is concerned by how you lean into ser Cargyll's arm as you walk, and immediately comes to your side, "sister?"

"Alicent," you smile, immediately perking up.

"Lady Hightower," the knight greets her.

"It's ser Erryk," you playfully whisper with a smile.

Alicent turns to you and offershim as soft smile, "ser Erryk."

"You spoke to father, surely," you take her hand, making her look back at you, "is his mood grim?"

She shakes her head, "no. He is... relatively placid, I think."

"Good," you break away from Erryk. He assures you are firmly planted on your feet before releasing you, "I can talk to him then."

"Shouldn't you rather be resting?" she asks in concern.

"It is urgent. I-" you shake your head, "I cannot delay any further."

Alicent realizes then that your hair was fully undone and slightly messy now. You were also in your thick velvet robe, and it only causes her further concern. "I know I am not Gwayne, but if there is anything you wish to speak of," she squeezes your hands, "I am hear to lend an ear."

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

She chuckles rather sadly, "we help but worry always for those we love."

Erryk heart pinches at the solemn exchange of the two sisters. He is glad to know that at least one more person in your family loved you with gentleness. He makes mental note to encourage you to write to your brother.

When Alicent leaves, you take a breath before knocking on the Hand's door.

"Enter."

You walk in and find your father busy at his desk.

"Father."

Otto looks up at you, immediately coming to stand, "what's wrong?"

You close the door behind him, catching Erryk's encouraging gaze. He nods before you shut the door. You turn to you father, finding he was already walking towards you.

He takes your hand, inspecting you. He speaks your name carefully, and it softens your frigid demeanor, "what has happened?"

You smile sadly, "I cannot sleep."

He sighs, partially relieved it is nothing so severe. He walks towards the door, "I will have one of the maids send you warm milk and honey."

"There is something I must tell you," you say, making him stop.

He turns back you, antsy over your serious tone, "if it is regarding Daemon. Do not worry. I have designs to keep him on a leash."

You release his hand and turn to your feet.

His expression hardens. He knows whatever you have to say is grave because you can no longer look at him. He steps forward and takes your cheeks, "daughter."

You look up at him, face stained with tears.

"Go to bed," he wipes your cheeks, "you'll muster the nerve to tell your husband the news soon en-"

"He does not finish inside me, father."

"..."

"I've-" you choke on your breath, "I've spoken about it to the maesters and he's explained it is possible for the seed to take root from premature ejaculation but-"

"Have you strayed?" Otto tightens his hold a fraction.

You are aghast by his statement and rapidly shake your head, "father, I wou-"

"Then there is nothing to fear," he cuts you off, brows tensing, "your child will be born with silver hair and violet eyes, and-"

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

"Enough," he snaps, shaking you slightly.

You chest begins to tighten.

Otto notices and brushes your hair out of your face. He recites the common prayer you used to pray with your mother, "Seven, hear me. Father, strengthen me. Mother, protect me. Warrior, d—"

"Defend me," you sigh, joining in, "Smith, mend me."

"Mend my daughter," Otto mumbles softly.

"Maiden, beautify me," you say together, "Crone, enlighten me. Stranger, guide me."

Otto nods and strokes your hair, "now breathe."

It takes a few deep breaths, but you are calm now. He leads you to the door and opens it. "Oh, good," he says, once spotting your ward, "you're not entirely useless."

Erryk walks over to you, ignoring your father completely as he takes you by the arm.

"Take her to bed and have some warm milk and honey served to her."

"Yes, my lord," he says, though not sparing the lord a glance.

You, however, do, looking back with a soft smile, "good night, father."

He is about to reply, but then comes a servant boy, holding a plate of crackers and cheese, who freezes at the sight of the crowded entry. He thinks he's made a mistake, so he turns to leave, but Otto raises a hand and beckons the boy over, "come."

The boy walks past you, mumble a soft, "milady."

You smile and nod, "good evening."

Erryk eyes him suspiciously as he enters the room but refocuses on walking you back.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

"Prince Daemon at the brothel, milord," the boy says, rolling back and forth on his heels.

The Lord Hand's face twists in contempt. He pulls his desk open and procures a cold coin.

The boy gleefully takes it and begins to explain the events that take place.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Wedding: Photoshoot #6 - Illuminating Love - Idia

Summary: Your sixth photoshoot was with Idia. The first and possibly the most unwilling model of the bunch. But even then, you couldn’t deny that he made for a rather marvelous looking groom, with his pretty face and surprisingly steady gaze.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 1412

I stumbled slightly, resting my hand on Idia’s shoulder as I mumbled irritatedly about my lengthy skirt, and he glanced back at me. After a brief moment we continued on though, and I followed the tall young man through the darkened room we were having our photoshoot in.

The pairing of the lengthy dress, unfamiliar heels, and the darkness was hardly a good one, though, even if I could understand the thought process behind it all.

With Idia’s hair being the mass of brilliant blue flame it was, the pictures were bound to look amazing in a darkened space like this one. 

As for the dress and heels…. They were just my outfit for this photo shoot.

But, in the same sentence, moving around in a dark room in a full-length wedding dress was hardly something I dreamed of, even if the entire outfit was gorgeous. But by now, I expected that. I’d yet to see an unattractive bridal outfit in Crewel’s line of clothes, and I doubted I was going to at this point.

“You good?” I glanced up at Idia as he spoke. His voice still perfectly disgruntled as he made no effort to hide exactly how displeased he was to be taking part in this photoshoot.

But then, he apparently hadn’t entered himself in the running for modeling in the first place. Apparently, Ortho had done that for him as a means of forcefully expanding upon Idia’s experiences.

Even if Idia himself did not want that.

Rumor had it Crewel had gone to Ignihyde himself to fetch my stand-in groom, who was currently staring glumly at me as I nodded. Silently opting not to mention the fact that Idia actually looked rather nice in his dark suit with his hair down up the way it was. It’d probably just earn me a rather spectacular eye roll from the young man anyway.

“Yeah, I just kicked something,” I scowled slightly down at the ground before continuing forward to where I assumed Idia and I were going to be standing for the pictures.

At least I hadn’t been taken aback by Idia’s appearance the way I had been with some of the other guys. But, to be fair, I'd received a preview of what Idia would look like as a groom back when Eliza had kidnapped him during the entire ghost bride fiasco.

And even if the entire situation with the forced ghostly wedding had been a bit of a nightmare to deal with, there had been no denying that Idia had looked really good.

And the same could be said now.

But then, Idia wasn’t exactly a hideous young man. In fact, he was downright attractive. 

It wouldn’t be hard to argue that he was one of the prettiest classmates I had, and while that might not be much of a statement in many schools, it certainly was at Night Raven, where the student body was virtually flooded with attractive young men of every type.

It was just that Idia usually didn’t dress the part, which always made it more eye-catching when he did.

“Okay, you two. I just want you to stand still and look at one another without making any faces,” Crewel’s voice was blunt and left no room for argument even as the urge to stick my tongue out at Idia rose the very moment we were ordered not to make any faces.

I controlled the urge, though, and faced Idia as Crewel started subtly adjusting my clothes.

Flipping my veil down so that the sheer fabric covered my face and adjusting the way my skirt lay behind me.

And the entire time I could hear Idia mumbling to himself about how he was going to speedrun this mission and be on his way.

And then Crewel gave us his final directions: “Alright, Idia, put your hand here like you're about to flip Y/n’s veil back and then hold that pose. Make sure you look directly at them. Y’m, I want you to look down slightly but not fully close your eyes.”

I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to smile at Crewel’s final, rather sharp directions as Idia not-so-subtly rolled his eyes.

But then he reached over, his gloved fingers barely curving under the edge of my veil as his amber-yellow eyes met mine and then stayed there. Surprisingly steady considering how nervous Idia had been around me when we’d first met.

But quite a bit of time had passed since then. Idia no longer minded ragging on me in his own playful way about not knowing certain things or making a stupid move while we played a game, be it online or at a table. 

He’d even jokingly called me the worst player two he’d ever had, with nothing but fond amusement behind his biting words.

But that was just the way Idia was. And perhaps that was when I felt myself go perfectly still as I looked down, almost like I was too shy to hold his stare. 

I half expected him to say something and snap the weighty atmosphere that now accumulated in the dark space where the only thing that illuminated me and him was the fluttering light from his long hair that was currently bound in a ponytail in an attempt to clean up his appearance just a little bit more.

I swallowed slightly, having to fight to not fidget or lace my gloved fingers together as a distraction for myself. But I held still as the camera clicked before exhaling softly as I heard Crewel and the photographer start discussing the image, our pose, and a myriad of other aspects of the photograph and felt myself relax, looking up at Idia and meeting his gaze almost immediately.

And almost immediately he frowned at me as I held his gaze, quietly pondering the amber colors of his eyes.

“You're staring,” I blinked at Idia’s judgy words that caught me largely off-guard before hurriedly shaking my head.

I frowned at him as I swiftly denied his accusation, even though that was absolutely what I had been doing, “No, I wasn’t. I was just staying posed for the picture in case that one wasn’t good enough.”

He openly grimaced at the thought of having to stand here longer, and I felt myself snort at his displeasure, humor slipping into my voice as I smiled at him, “It’s not that bad. And you can buy a new game with whatever Crewel pays you.”

“That’s the only even slightly good thing about any of this,” His tone was perfectly bitter, and I shook my head at him. Amused by his sulkiness that he didn’t even try to hide.

“Come on, I thought I looked nice at the very least,” I leaned towards him teasingly as I smiled up at him. And it was tempting to flutter my eyelashes at him.

But I didn’t have to in order to get a reaction. He was already rolling his eyes at my teasing and openly snarking back as he gestured to our surroundings, “Oh yeah, because I can see you so well in this lighting.”

I frowned at him playfully before leaning back and smiling at him more genuinely, “Well, you look nice at the very least. Ortho would probably be thrilled to see you in a suit, and I bet the rest of your family would too.”

“More like they’d mock me,” He openly shuddered at the mere thought of his parents seeing him dressed like he was. But then he shook his head, continuing as he looked back, “Normal, comfortable clothes are far better. They tell you more about a person than anything fancy they’ll only wear a single time for a special occasion ever could.”

I blinked at his words, half-startled by them as he eyed me before an almost maniacal grin curved across his face and he snickered, “Besides, it’s not like you picked the dress out anyway.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as his behavior started catching on, “Such a romantic.”

He just snickered more as Crewel finally glanced over at us, “Alright, looks good. I’m cutting on the lights now.”

“Better make a run for it before he starts prepping for your next photoshoot,” I snorted again at Idia’s half-muttered words. Shaking my head at him as he snickered before walking off. No doubt about to shed his suit as quickly as possible so he could head back to his room.

If you would like to read more:

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[bullet-prooflove]

Guilt: Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @mandy426 @caffeinatedwoman @elefrog25-blog @kmc1989 @toheavenwmydrms

Companion piece to:

Pillow Talk - Alden realises he's a shitty husband.

Two Points For Honesty - Alden makes a confession about his time on the run with Viv.

Wild Flowers - You confront Viv about what happened with Alden.

The Duck Pond - You try to tell Alden how you're feeling.

Wishful Thinking - You realise Alden's not coming home.

It’s after ten pm when Alden gets out of the interrogation room, his eyes are gritty, his back’s sore and there’s a headache brewing right behind his eyes from prolonged exposure to the fluorescents. He’s been locked in that room for four hours trying to illicit a confession from their suspect and so far no dice, something he’s not looking forward to telling Vance when he raps his knuckles on the door.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Gloucester right about now?” Vance asks him as he steps into the room and Alden shakes his head before he takes up residence in the chair across from his director.

“No.” Alden sighs, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. “That’s next week.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” Vance says as he uses the mouse to navigate his computer, bringing up the vacation calendar. “It’s your wedding anniversary tomorrow right, the 26th?”

It can’t be but Vance is turning the screen around so he can see it and yea, he should be in Virgina right now partaking in a twilight wine and charcuterie event with his wife.

He takes his phone out of his pocket, dread building in his stomach as he studies the screen intently.

Three missed calls, two voicemails and a text.

I’m heading out, it reads. I’ll be turning my phone off for the rest of the night.

No kiss, no smiley face, nada.

You’re done with him, he can tell and Alden, he doesn’t blame you. He’s done some shitty things over the past six months but this tonight, it’s by far the worst.

“I can’t believe I did that.” Alden says as he stares at the screen. He can feel your despondency over through the words as he studies them intently,  his eyes stinging. “I can’t believe I forgot…”

You… He forgot you.

Vance purses his lips together, his fingertips rapping on the surface of the desk before  before he reaches into the bottom drawer and removes a bottle of bourbon and two crystal tumblers.

“You have been under a lot of pressure recently.” He remarks as he begins to decant the amber liquid into the tumblers. “The Raven, this case, working with your ex. I can’t imagine it’s been easy for you or for Lisa.”

“No it hasn’t.” Alden says picking up the glass and staring into its depths. “Lisa’s trying but Viv’s been yanking her chain… The two of us we’ve not really been connecting recently.”

“How long has that been going on?” Vance asks him as he leans back in his chair, his eyes on his friend and Alden swallows hard against the emotion that swells in his chest whenever he thinks about the turning point of your relationship.

“Since The Raven.” Alden says quietly as he sips from his whiskey. “I think it’s more of a me problem then an us problem. I’m… struggling, I guess, to come to terms with the shit that happened, with what almost happened.”

That's the thing that's tearing him apart inside, the other thing he hasn't told you.

“Lisa…” Vance begins, searching for the words. “She’s not like other people, her emotional intelligence is off the charts that’s why she excels in what she does. She knows there's something you're not telling her and a secret like that, it eats at a marriage.”

"You're saying I should just come right out and tell her?" Alden questions, even though it's the last thing in the world he wants to do.

 "I'm saying there are two kinds of guilt.” Vance tells Alden. “The kind that's a burden and the kind that gives you purpose. I think you’ve been letting this weigh you down for too long, you need to utilise it, let it be the fuel that fixes your marriage, let it remind you of the husband you want to be.”

“That is quite a speech.” Alden says finally, setting his glass down on the desk before he raises to feet.

“I take it I won’t be seeing you for the rest of the weekend?” Vance says as he watches Alden head towards the door.

“No.” Alden responds, his hand coming to rest on the handle, his head tilting towards Vance. “It's time to come clean to my wife.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter 1

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1700 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Overall rating will be Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 8 years. This chapter is a wee lil mellow one and sets the scene, but future ones will include soft, yet sexy and intense Dave; several twists - basically, it will have it all: action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), and SMUT! No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her.

AN: I got too excited and decided to post the first chapter. Posting schedule will be somewhere are weekly, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1:

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air.

The soft glow of you bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, making the clutter of half-packed boxes look like ominous towers. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to process her words.

“My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry!

“Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper.

You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy.

Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding?

She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone.

Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured.

“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.”

She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

That piqued your interest.

“Oh, oh, oh, you robbin’ the cradle, mama?” you teased. “You’re really living your cougar era, huh?”

“Stop it, you,” she giggled in return. “So, when do you think you’ll get here?”

Conversation went back and forth a little longer as your mom gave you the new address – for fuck’s sake, they moved clear across the state from where you grew up, to a very swanky area at the shore, you noted – and you made a rough itinerary. In reality, you would have loved to just drop everything and get the fuck out of dodge right that minute, but logistics and all that.

“Ok, honey. Be careful and I’ll see you next week. Call if you need anything.” Before she ended the call, your mom added, “I’ll text you Dave’s number as well, so you have it in case of emergencies.

“Sounds good, mama. Love you.”

“Love you more, honey.”

You went back to packing up the remnants of your life, readying yourself for the cross-country journey ahead.

You did not have ‘moving back home at almost 30’ on your bingo card this year, but there you were, pulling into the half-moon driveway of a large colonial home in an upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than where your mom used to live. The house loomed under the late morning sun, its pristine white siding and black shutters stark against the cloudless blue sky. Perfectly trimmed hedges flanked the curved driveway, and somewhere nearby, the faint crash of waves carried on the salty breeze. This Dave guy had a lot of money, it appeared. Parking your little sedan to the far side in front of the 3-car garage, you turned the car off and lingered in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Normally, you didn’t mind change, but… man, the past month threw some whammies at you. You lost a boyfriend, job, and your loyal goldfish in quick succession. Each loss hit worse than the last. And now, your safe space, the place you needed to return to so you could lick your wounds… also changed. Big time.

The soft tap of a manicured nail on the window startled you, head snapping to the side to see your mom standing in the driveway beaming at you. She bounced on her feet, anxiously waiting for you to get out of the car.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you!” You barely had time to fully stand up before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That was another thing about your mom – she was strong. She had lithe muscles packed into her small figure from being a total gym addict.

Too bad that addiction wasn’t hereditary. You hated the gym.

“Hi mama! Marriage looks good on you!” you praised her once you stepped back and took in her glowing, sun-kissed skin, vibrant blonde locks, and the large rock on her hand.

“You look good, too, honey. You losing weight?”

And of course, she honed right in on that. You weren’t even in front of her for five minutes, and she brought up your weight. Story of your life. Your body shape the exact opposite of your, mother’s, she hadn’t let up on nagging you about your weight since you were twelve years old. You were always a bit… thick in places.

“Uh, maybe, I dunno. Come on, show me your new digs.” You quickly changed the subject.

Your mom gives you the grand tour, proudly showing off all the lovely features of the house, focusing heavily on the ones the home you grew up in didn’t have like the huge kitchen, fireplace, pool, and enormous master suite, though she led you away before you could fully explore all that the suite offered. The two other bedrooms were already decorated for little girls, and you quirked a curious eyebrow at your mom.

“Didn’t I mention that Dave has two young daughters?”

No. No, she definitely did not mention that. You rolled your eyes, understanding now why your mom was so eager for you to come home. She wanted a built-in caretaker. You mentally counted down, knowing exactly what she was about to say in three, two, one…

“Actually, now that you’ll be living here, it would be great if you could look after the girls when we have to travel for work or want to go out, help with the school runs during the week.”

It wasn’t a question, you noted. Not that you expected her to ask first or even mention that being a nanny would be part of the deal. Nothing with your mom ever came without a cost. You learned that lesson long ago.

You loved your mom, you really did. Sometimes, she just didn’t make it easy to do so.

“Right. About that… where am I supposed to be staying if all the bedrooms are taken?”

She led you down the stairs to a door off the family room, where another stairway awaited you. “You’re locking me away in the basement?” you joked. “Please tell me it’s at least finished.”

“Just wait until you see it, honey,” your mom promised, and you reluctantly followed her down the steps.

When the lights flicked on, the sight took your breath away. It was like an entire apartment down there. It even had its own private entrance leading to the garage allowing you to come and go as you pleased. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Told ya.” She flashed you a twitchy wink. “You’ll have this whole space to yourself… well, except for that room over there.” She pointed to a closed door equipped with a sturdy lock.

“What’s in there?” you questioned, already curious about the reasoning for such a lock on the door.

“That’s Dave’s office. It’s off limits to everyone but him, so don’t go snooping. Got it?” She pointed a finger at you like you were an errant child, and you raised your hands in surrender.

“Heard you loud and clear, mama. I have no interest in whatever creepy ass skeletons Dave is keeping in his locked office.” Total lie, of course, but your mom didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Get settled in and help yourself to whatever you need. I must head to the office for a bit. Dave should be home at some point, he just had a meeting in town. I’ll pick up the girls from school on my way home if you want to take care of dinner.”

And there it was. You knew there’d be a bigger price to pay for this arrangement, more than occasionally taking care of your new stepsisters. Without a job or any other responsibilities, your mom was going to treat you like free labor. You saw that coming.

You followed your mom upstairs and through the front door as she headed to her car in the garage, and you went for yours. Might as well get unpacked, not like you brought much anyway. It was early still, and you could make a trip to the store for anything you needed before having to worry about dinner.

A few hours later, you stepped back to admire your new living space with a sense of pride. You did everything you could to make it your own, within reason.

With the basement suite basically being a blank slate, you chose a variety of decorative pillows, wall hangings, and chotchkes to give it your own stylistic flair. The furnishings unused and rather plain, you wanted to spice them up with splashes of color. You did everything short of paint the damn walls – and you would have done that too if given the option.

Grateful for a firm mattress with a plush pillowtop, you sprang for the softest satiny sheets you could find in a pale green hue and paired it with a patterned comforter with clean lines. A couple of coastal-themed lamps on the nightstands rounded out the small bedroom.

The bathroom was already decorated with a shower curtain and accessories in soft gray hues, and you wondered if that was Dave’s touch or your mother’s. Probably Dave. Your mom never veered toward subtle furnishings, much preferring patterns and styles that you found garish.

Glancing around at the neat space one last time, you headed upstairs to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. You wanted to make something special for the first time meeting your stepdad and his daughters.

tbc

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69

[lilithofpenandbook]

The way I see it is:

1) they BOTH liked each other. And neither realised (well until Sev arrives in the afterlife and Lily tells him she used to love him in school and that love didn't really fully die even though she knew he'd never look at her that way, and he looks at her like "What." and goes "you utter doughnut I was absolutely MAD for you-". It just amuses me to think of them both being in love and just not realising it until it's passed. Although I love the idea of her being in love far, far more).

2) Regardless of Severus' feelings, Lily was mad for him. Absolutely mad. And it made her so upset that he didn't seem to return those feelings. James Potter, that awful stuck up boy, clearly liked her, so why didn't Severus? And when he called her a mudblood, she decided that that meant he'd never love her like that (poor logic, she'd tell herself years later, absolutely stupid thing to think, he was in so much pain at that moment, he didn't mean it) and didn't ever want to be friends with him. And then regretted that but didn't know how to fix it. And thought that maybe if she got with James Potter, Severus would hopefully be so angry and maybe even jealous and come to try win her back. She hadn't counted on him respecting her so much he'd leave her alone like she asked. Nor had she counted on almost enjoying being with James. She agreed to marry him, of course, it was always going to benefit her. But there had always been a piece of her that screamed that it was the wrong man, from when she stood next to James on the wedding day, and even when she held her child who looked like his father... the wrong father.

“The intensity of his gaze made her blush.” — Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter: The Prince’s Tale, Lily and Snape looking at one another. Nothing further, your honor.

[possibilistfanfiction]

if you're still taking caitvi prompts: first time

do with that whatever you wish, i love seeing what you come up with

[caitvi wedding!! if there's one thing about me it's that i love outside pov so some ekko pov, some little hints of 207 :) ao3 if u want.]

//

'and you're sure you have the rings?'

jinx groans from where she's sitting on the couch and flops back dramatically, no regard whatsoever for her dress; you roll your eyes but vi is so clearly nervous you pat your pocket and assure her, 'right here, just like they were five minutes ago.'

'okay,' she says, then looks in the mirror one more time. she fusses with her hair, her undercut neat and the rest swept back out of her face; she straightens her already perfectly tailored suit jacket. you share a smile with jinx when she lets out a big breath.

'let's go get you married then, yeah?'

vi blushes all over again, an expression you could only accurately describe as lovesick on her face. jinx groans again but she happily tucks her arm into the crook of your elbow when you offer, kisses you on the cheek.

/

vander is crying before he even starts walking vi down the aisle, while you wait in the wing of the reception hall attached to the truly gorgeous garden that they're getting married in. it's a much larger affair than vi had wanted but a much smaller one than caitlyn's mom had tried to insist on, and there are fairy lights and, predictably, violets everywhere, and vander hugs vi tight before you and jinx get your cue to walk down the aisle before them.

it's more pomp and circumstance than vi wanted — the rows of chairs, each side fairly equally attended, and the full course meal at the reception, and the string orchestra who starts to play. you helped plan most parts of it: jinx was officially vi's best man, a title she insisted on, but you'd helped out with a lot of the logistics she didn't really seem to have capacity to deal with on her own. it was fun, though, to work together with one another and with jayce, caitlyn's maid of honor — another title jinx insisted on, which had made jayce laugh while he easily agreed — to truly irritate cassandra, as she politely, after a few months, insisted you call her. for all her intensity that had driven jinx up the wall, you could tell she really does love caitlyn, and caitlyn loves vi, so the compromises became easier and easier as your planning moved along.

and now, it's perfect, you think as you stand next to jinx and watch vi get teary the second she sees caitlyn in her wedding gown, tobias smiling widely beside her. she's tall and regal and graceful and pretty, and when tobias kisses vi's cheek and then sets caitlyn's hand gently in vi's outstretched one, blushes on both of their cheeks, you let out a relieved breath because it's actually happening, and it's all turned out so wonderful.

the ceremony itself is short, and they say their vows through easy, happy tears, caitlyn using vi's full name at one point in a tone so reverent, in a way only she can manage, in a way only she has ever had permission to, even you feel like you might cry. you hand the officiant the rings when it's time, and vi smiles at you, and her hands shake but they're strong and purposed when she slides the diamond band onto caitlyn's finger, and then caitlyn kisses vi's palm before slipping the thick, simple gold band onto her finger. soon enough, they kiss — short and sweet but with enough passion to make jinx grimace, which makes you laugh as you squeeze her hand — and then they're introduced, for the first time, as the kirammans, together.

/

the reception is, quite genuinely, the best party you've ever been to, thank you very much. there's dinner, and tons of finger food, and you're relieved that both vi and caitlyn actually do manage to eat because they both constantly have a glass of champagne in their hands, accepting many toasts. they share a first dance, vi very seriously concentrating on the steps from the classes she took and the moves she practiced with you and jinx until caitlyn grins and kisses her cheek and whispers something in her ear; vi laughs and her posture relaxes while she tucks her head into the crook of caitlyn's neck and they just sway, easy, happy, an intimacy earned over years of steadfastness.

there's the father-daughter dance, vander and vi making quite the pair next to the easy elegance, born and bred, of caitlyn and tobias, but they end up laughing together by the end. vander and tobias sit together afterward; they're family, now, but they have been for years already too.

'hey, cass,' jinx says, leaning back in her chair when she notices caitlyn's mom walking up to your table. she has a pinched expression on her face at the nickname, and you have to fight the urge not to laugh — but she's family too. for all of cassandra's annoyance, you think she actually does have a soft spot for jinx.

you're proven right when she sits down, poised as ever, and says, 'i just wanted to thank you both.' she looks over at caitlyn and vi, who are wrapped up in each other. vi's hair has lost some of its careful styling, starting to fall into her eyes, and she's ditched her suit jacket, draping it over caitlyn's shoulders instead. caitlyn's eyes are a little unfocused, an unknown number of champagne glasses in, her cheeks flushed, a gentle hand on vi's jaw before they kiss. 'i've never seen caitlyn so happy.'

'you can say it,' jinx responds. 'we were right.'

cassandra sighs, displeased, but then, after a beat, they both laugh. 'perhaps we owe ekko, our peacemaker.'

'you definitely do. i accept venmo, paypal, zelle, or also you can just pay our rent.'

cassandra raises a brow, but it's fond and amused, so much like caitlyn. 'i was under the impression that, perhaps, my daughter might already be doing a fair amount of that.'

caitlyn does help with the rent on the apartment you and jinx share, it's true, and she randomly has groceries delivered sometimes; she and vi have taken you and jinx on some pretty epic climbing trips, and neither you nor jinx are going to finish your graduate programs with any debt. but, still, 'new car, then?'

cassandra laughs and jinx leans forward, intrigued. 'great suggestion, babe.' she slings an arm around your shoulder. 'cassandra, we'll get back to you on the make and model. hybrid, though, for sure.'

cassandra rolls her eyes but, when she stands, she does wrap jinx in a soft hug, and then squeezes your shoulder.

jinx clears her throat, and you decide to spare her from any teasing, just this once. a song comes on that you both love, and she perks up. you grin, and then offer your hand. 'may i have this dance?'

she rolls her eyes but she takes your hand tenderly and leads you to the dance floor.

/

thankfully, even though you'd been best man part 2 — jinx's official title for you — you don't have to give a toast. jinx does, though, or at least she'd badgered her way into caitlyn and vi letting her; she's still, always will be, a loose canon, but she's deeply cared about this wedding, so you know she wouldn't be too crazy.

she tells a funny, sweet story about how vi would always scare her monsters away when they were little and then continues. 'caitlyn, i'm very grateful that i get to annoy you officially now, forever.' caitlyn laughs, so content. 'and vi, thank you for saving my life, so many times and in so many ways. and thank you for being my big sister. i love you.' vi wipes under her eyes and smiles so big jinx can only smile back just the same. she lifts her glass. 'to the happy couple.'

/

the party is dwindling down, caitlyn and vi already having left to go to their hotel room before they leave on their honeymoon in the morning. jinx swipes a bottle of champagne and takes your hand, then leads you out to a terrace that overlooks the city and sits on the edge, her dress carefully tucked beneath her.

'some night,' she says, wistful.

it's hard to look at her, now, without getting overwhelmed, so you keep staring at the buildings, far off in the distance, their shine and shimmer. 'it's beautiful.'

'where'd you learn those moves?' she asks, teasing.

you've danced together for years, all through college and grad school, but, still, tonight was special. 'oh, i was just following your lead.'

jinx laughs. 'he's got lines.'

you laugh, and you sit in the quiet with her for a bit.

'thank you,' she says, eventually, quietly, so sincere your heart breaks a little bit.

'for what?'

she gestures in the air vaguely, and you understand that sometimes things are just too big for words. it had been a hard few months, far beyond wedding planning: one of jinx's most important medications had started to have worse and eventually untenable physical side effects, so she'd had to be hospitalized to figure out a new combination that would help keep her psychologically stable much more comfortably and safely, and with fewer other medications to manage side effects. it was easier than it was in the past — partially because caitlyn had gotten her, immediately, into the best program in the nicest facility with experts she herself had recruited, but mostly because jinx was so determined to get better again, on board for all of it. even on the days she wasn't as lucid as you'd grown so used to, her psychosis was different: gentler, less tortured. she was kind to you, through it all.

'you know you never have to thank me for stuff like that,' you say. 'getting to have all of this with you, it's more than i ever dreamed.'

'still,' she says, and she's so beautiful. 'i know i’m… a lot. so y hank you.'

'you know i'd never give up on you, right?' you tuck a strand of hair, grown out in the past year so that it sits at her shoulders now, bangs that you'd clumsily helped her cut one night like you were kids again, behind her ear gently. her eyes are so clear, so blue. she tucks her head into her chest and you wrap your arm around her. you've loved her your whole life; you've loved her like this for years. 'but it's such a happy night,' you say. 'want to just... pretend like it's the first time?'

it's hard, sometimes, to hold all the grief of your lives when you were younger, all the grief of a brain so troubled and so extraordinary, in the same hands that hold all the joy — your palms aren't big enough, or they're too rough, or they're not strong enough, or they shake and tremble and it all slips through your fingers. it's hard but it's worth it, when she feels it too, when you get to hold it together.

her hand is gentle on your jaw, cool and thin and brilliant, and it's easy to remember your first kiss, to remember all the first kisses that came after that as she healed too. it's easy to kiss her again, for the first time. there are vows here too, ones the two of you say all the time: you make sure she eats and she makes sure you get to bed on time; you lift the weight of the world off of each other's shoulders with silly inventions you make together, and belaying safely, and holding her when she can't quite make out what's real and what isn't. you're real, and your love is real, and the promises are holy, and unspoken, and there all the same.

she sniffles when you back up. 'who knew vi's stupid wedding would make me so emotional?'

you laugh, wipe under her eyes to catch her slightly smeared mascara. 'i could've guessed.'

'we're never doing this, right?'

'a kiramman wedding? god no.'

she grins.

'i'd elope for tax cuts, though, if you ever wanted.'

'incredibly romantic.'

you both laugh and you lace your fingers with hers and then shrug. 'it's you and me.' you bring your joined hands to your mouth and gently kiss the top of hers.

'you and me, forever,' she adds.

'that sounds pretty good.'

'yeah.' she looks out at the city, the light brought down like stars. 'it does.'

[capseycartwright]

tagged by @livingincolorsagain to do a 2024 fic roundup and i am v late but hope u forgive my tardiness i have been enjoying a new year rot of the highest order. anyway apparently i wrote a whole heap of fic this year and didn't realise it until i made this post.

april

every little thing the sun shows, well it’s worth it 

Buck should – he should be freaking out, right? He’d lived thirty-two years of his life without coming close to kissing another man, and it should be making him freak out that tonight, he did – but Buck felt flooded with the oddest sense of calm he’d ever experienced in his life.

He’d kissed a man.

or - after his kiss with Tommy, Buck goes to Hen.

stay close, little brother

hen and maddie share a quiet moment of pride about their little brother at the buckley-han wedding.

may

all roads lead to eddie diaz

Eddie inclined his head slightly. “He is,” he hummed in response. “But it sounds more like you’re wanting to pick a fight here than discuss our mutual appreciation for how great a person Buck is.

Tommy, at least, looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he admitted. “The way you feel about him.

or - eddie and tommy have a revelatory conversation about the buck of it all.

july

a sky full of stars

Christopher Diaz had always loved fireworks - the pop, and bang, and the way they would light up the sky with bright colours. His dad didn’t like fireworks though. His dad was afraid of them.

or, even in Texas, Christopher worries about his father spending the Fourth of July alone. So he texts Buck.

can't ignore the crazy visions of me in la

Margarita-drunk Buck ruminates on how beautiful Eddie Diaz is while his best friend is dancing to Chappell Roan. That's what LA pride is for, right?

- or, alternatively: Eddie spends his first pride as an out queer man in a gay club, and Buck is in love with him about it.

october

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

knowing damn well i haven't been touched by you

Buck’s been having a really weird year. Buck died, and he realised he was bisexual, and he got a boyfriend, and Christopher left and went to Texas after he walked in on Eddie kissing his dead mother’s doppelganger, Eddie had grown a depression mustache, and Gerrard was back at the helm of the 118 and Buck felt like he was starring in a Netflix Original about how a perfectly normal, functional, member of society was driven to commit murder.

- or, Buck's got a boyfriend, Eddie comes out and starts dating men, and Buck loses his entire mind, actually.

november

miss me, but let me go

“I have - I’ve carried this grief, for you, for so long, and I know I can’t let it all go, because a part of me is always going to grieve for you,” Eddie paused. “But I can’t feel like this forever, Shannon. I don’t think you’d want me to, either. So - I need to let some of it go. Okay? I need to - I need to be myself now. For me, and for Christopher. I want to be me.”

On November 1, Eddie builds an altar for Shannon and finds a way to let her go.

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

december

i'll be home for christmas (if only in my dreams)

It was a silly thing, Buck had started, right when Eddie first got to El Paso – we’re looking at the same sky, he’d quipped, on one of their nightly Facetime calls.

Even when they were far apart from each other, they were still able to look up at the same stars, and if they just remembered that, maybe the distance between El Paso, and Los Angeles, wouldn’t feel so cavernous. That’s what Buck had promised him.

simply having a wonderful christmastime (maybe)

Eddie's family were about to arrive for the first Christmas they were hosting in LA as as couple, and, well, Buck felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack so great it would be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the destruction it was liable to cause.

or - the buckley-diazes are hosting christmas for the first time, and buck is freaking out, a little. he has a good reason, he swears.

see the lights, hang the stockings

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions.

everyone has probably done this already so apologies but tagging @doeeyeseddie @thatbuddie @clusterbuck @hattalove @mellaithwen @sibylsleaves @piningbuddies @eddiebabygirldiaz @hotshotsxyz

[kiivg]

Goddard was in his 70s at the beginning of Inquisition. Is he still around and if he is, do you think he’s involving himself with Solas and his world-ending shenanigans?

.Tf u mean IF?????? ☹️ BioWare did me dirty making the game 10 years into the future.

.I’m kidding ofc he’s around!! I literally made my HoF immortal because I cannot face any of my OCs dying 🙏 tbh I don’t actually know what year DAV is set in because I’ve seen people saying 9:51 and 9:53 so 🤷‍♂️ Goddard was born in 8:70 so he’s in his eighties at least.

.So initially I was like HELL YEAH Goddard Returns!!!!! And then it’s very clear that (as I SAID) the game was basically shoehorning you into being best buddies with Solas regardless of choice and I can tell you that a) Goddard doesn’t have a clue who Solas is and b) he would absolutely kill him on sight if he was presented with a “this guy is trying to end the world” scenario. Anyway, more below 💋.

.Edit!!! Also!!!! Solas stole his fucking wedding ring!!! What the fuck!!!!! He’d beat the shit outta him!!!!!.

.A bit on Goddard’s back story; since he was away so much with the Orlesian Army and then the Fereldan Army he missed out on a lot of his kids’ childhoods, (there’s also a disconnect between him and Fulton II re: Goddard’s own relationship with his father, and then the filicide of Wakefield, and the bastard Lei appearing), and whilst he has repaired the relationships with them he still very much regrets prioritising war over his family even though he was basically taught this from childhood. Goddard was raised to be a tyrant and warmonger, he was made for fighting in wars and winning them. However! He now has the chance to get to spend time with him family, since the Inquisition is over, he handed his army to the Divine, he’s made reparations to the Baroulx family, and he’s absolute besties with Emperor Gaspard.

.Since the end of Inquisition, he’s been retired, he has ten grandchildren and nine great grandchildren, he went back to ruling his bannorn for a few years, then passed it over to Twyla (his eldest child), and decided he’d rather just do whatever the hell he wants now. He still fights, sparring and what not to keep in shape, he might be old but he’s not going to just crumple into dust!! Also considering I have Goddard II (Twyla’s Grandson/Gylda’s First Born) bethrothed to Gaspard’s daughter Lienne. (they are however children atm), he’s spending a lot of time in Orlais.

.I do think he gets roped back into things when he’s in Orlais. I think Hawke is the first one to realise shit is going down, and since he’s friendly with both Andrastopher (HoF) and Goddard, he kind of gathers them in preparation for something to happen (Varric’s letters grow increasingly worrying). Which means they’re all in Orlais together when shit hits the fan. Also there, is Lei (Goddard’s bastard son and Andrastopher’s Warden Second), and he is tasked with seeing how things are going in the north after Morrigan turns up for aid; after all Lei is a Grey Warden, half-Dalish, and son of the Herald of Andraste. He’s also a pretty good guy and overall trustworthy etc etc. a HUNK lbh.

.(On a side note, I’m 90% sure the Crossroads are like really exhausting to traverse for anyone who isn’t an elf so idk how anyone non-elven is chilling there??? But that’s another factor in Lei going. I’m not reading TME again just to check, but… I should…. For Gaspard 🥴🫶).

.So Goddard just liaises with his son throughout the whole thing, and trusts him entirely to do the right thing. He’s busy fighting for Gaspard, corralling the old Inquisition back together to aid Orlais knowing that Andrastopher is pulling together Ferelden’s armies at the same time. Hawke on the other hand absolutely legs it to Starkhaven to be with Sebastian (oh HC that this is why Starkhaven has the best survival in the Free Marches; Hawke forewarned them) even though their relationship is hush hush 🤫.

.I think Goddard would desperately want to return to Ostwick to be with his family during Veilguard but Twyla has a hand on things and he trusts her implicitly. Also he would look like a mad coward if he left lmao, can you imagine?? Herald of Andraste fleeing home when things get bad????.

.I do like the idea of all four of them getting together post Veilguard, because a) Andrastopher has slept with both Farid (Rook) and Doherty Hawke, b) Doherty would absolutely be mad at Farid for that thing that happens, c) Farid would be mad at Goddard for working with Solas in the first place, d) Goddard and Andrastopher already have beef over their sons anyway, like?? Hello smth is gonna happen with these four guys lbh.

.I do want to say originally Farid was going to be Goddard’s son, as he did have a liaison with a woman at some point before having children with Yetta (his wife) but it would make Farid too old so 🤷‍♂️ then I thought woag what if he was Gaspard’s bastard, and then I couldn’t because it would be borderline ??? Because Farid’s half brother Jean-Esmeral would be sleeping with Gaspard without knowing that their mother had also slept with him several times decades prior and had baby Farid together 😬🙂‍↔️ no thanku.

.The main thing is they’re all safe and sound 🙏 and even if I do love the idea of a last stand in Amaranthine/Starkhaven/Orlais, broken the moment Farid does his thing with the Veilguard ykno ykno, they’re still all safe 🙂‍↕️🫶💕.

[jeguluses]

regulus waking up and snuggling up to james’ back thinking he is still asleep but as soon as he makes contact, he feels a full body shudder go through his husband.

“james? what’s wrong? are you…are you crying?”

regulus’ heart breaks when there’s only a sob in response.

“baby? tell me what’s wrong. what happened, jamie?” regulus sits up, leaning over james’ body and inspecting his tear stained face for any hint of what caused him to wake up like this.

james shakes his head, smiling sheepishly through the wetness on his face. “i’m okay.”

regulus frowns, feeling helpless. “don’t lie to me. you’re obviously not okay.”

“no, really, i’m fine. i promise. “ james turns so they’re facing each other, reaching up to place both hands on regulus’ cheeks, releasing a sigh filled with contentment.

“but why are you crying?”

at this, james giggles bashfully. “it’s just that we have such a beautiful life, regulus. no one understands me like you do. no one loves me like you do and no one ever could love me like you. we’ve invested so much effort into making this house perfect for us.“

“our wedding was a dream come true. not to mention, we’re raising the coolest and smartest people i’ve ever met in my life. i never get sick of it honestly,” james tells regulus, sighing again and moving into his personal space in order to rest his head on regulus’ thigh.

regulus’ chest feels warm at the honest love in james’ voice. he slips his fingers into his husband’s hair, softly detangling the knots from sleeping. “i don’t understand. that makes you sad?”

james closes his eye as he says, “i’m just so happy. so grateful to have met you.”

regulus feels nauseated with the amount of affection that wells up inside of him at james’ candid words. he’s not even trying to smooth talk regulus, he truly feels this way.

shit. now, regulus wants to cry.

“i’m really happy too,” he whispers, still petting james’ curls.

“you are?” james asks, not disbelieving but wanting confirmation all the same.

regulus smiles even though james cannot see. “very happy.”

“good,” james hums. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for respecting me and trusting me. for caring for me and making me a better person.”

james sighs a third time as regulus digs his fingers into his scalp the way he likes. “for loving me.”

“it has, and will continue to be,” regulus says, mirroring james’ conviction, “and honor to love and be loved by you, james potter.”

[yandere-fics]

♡ You Kill Theanna But She Returns ♡

(The garden won't let Theanna die and it grows attached to you too.)

♡ Out of everything you predicted might happen to you from killing the crown princess, executions, being hunted for the rest of your life, general public scorn, you had not expected to be mocked by the very person you seduced and poisoned to death the night prior arriving at the ball, the same ball you intended to meet up with the person who had contracted you, and propose to you. You were sure she was dead, you'd seen her corpse, you'd heard the servants shriek and the court mage being called for but here she was only looking slightly worse for wear with what you were sure what a flower growing out of her palm though you shut your mouth about that observation because there was a chance you'd gone crazy and that was just another thing you were imagining, maybe you hadn't killed her. Maybe you'd not poisoned her but had given yourself a hallucinogenic. That seemed way more likely than her being here despite being dead the night prior. If that was the case you would have to try again though. ♡

♡ Regardless you said yes, what else were you supposed to do? You had failed to kill her, whether it was because you'd actually dosed yourself somehow despite being an accomplished assassin or she had come back to life. You would figure out how you were going to try to kill her again later. Some part of your gut told you the flower had something to do with her coming back to life but you couldn't really figure out how that would make any sense. You usually didn't ignore your instincts, that was how you'd killed so many over the years but you had to press your instincts down this time. Even if it had been true it wouldn't have benefitted you in any way. ♡

"You left the room last night before I could speak to you properly darling." You sucked in a breath, so she knew something had occurred last night. She probably knew everything and if that was the case then there was a chance she definitely had come back to life. You were screwed, how were you supposed to kill someone who could come back to life? If she knew though, why would she still propose to you? Revenge? "My queen shouldn't be messing with poisons, perhaps I should keep you in our chambers until you learn better."

"What-" She cut you off kissing you softly.

"Don't worry, you couldn't kill me even if you had tried another method, my queen. Now just smile for the people, they need to see their new queen." She pulled you back into the main ballroom smiling widely as she announced your marriage, while you tried your best not to look horrified.

♡ So she had definitely died that night. You realized that very quickly because despite being forced to be by her side at every moment she never ate nor drank. You weren't sure what had brought her back but something had and so any hopes you had of killing her again through a poisoning method would not work. You'd try stabbing next. You were determined to finish this contract. Not just because it was a lot of money you had been offered but also you did not want to marry her under any circumstances and the days towards your wedding were slowly counting down. There was only so much stalling you could do by asking for ridiculous things like a wedding dress with a train so long twenty people needed to carry it. ♡

♡ The next time you tried to kill her you had a knife to cut your steak and pounced on her the moment everyone else left the room, suddenly being thrown back from… a vine? All she did was remove the knife from your hands and calmly cut your steak. You were never allowed to cut your own food from that point onwards. You snuck another knife away to attempt it again in her sleep but… that stupid vine happened to stop it yet again. Theanna grumbling when she woke up to see your expression, pulling you down to the bed while mumbling something about how you had to start behaving yourself as her queen. ♡

The vine had begun to make more frequent appearances now that you had tried to kill her yet again. Mostly preventing you from walking away from Theanna, holding you in place as she ravished your body, swatting your wrist slightly any time you attempted to even grab a butterknife or pen. Theanna didn't really acknowledge it other than a light chuckle any time to vine wrapped around you. You weren't really sure how much of it she controlled though or if it was a separate entity. It was clearly related to whatever it had that had kept her alive. Killing her would be impossible with the vine around. You decided you'd be better off escaping.

♡ It had taken a lot of convincing to get Theanna to leave you in your bedroom while she went to work in her office. You'd slipped out the window and had taken off running into the forest as quick as you could. You ignored how it felt like there was a force trying it's best to keep you near the castle. Probably the same force that had brought her back to life. It didn't take long for Theanna to catch up to you, yet another vine coming out to grab you, carrying you and setting you bridal style in Theanna's arms who merely grinned. ♡

[thyras]

→ of sauron's regret (bonus part)

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 2.9k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - smut (oral), character death? if you squint

SUMMARY → after the fall of laureandor, sauron spends a moment with his past life but not before getting retribution for his past self. for he regrets many things, but that day he regrets still lingers in the very core of his being.

AUTHORS NOTE → idk i had this really buckwild thought since part two about during the fall of laureandor calandil stays behind and sauron gets revenge for mairon and was like; "bro look I helped you because you were too pathetically nice and wouldn't do it all cause you thought you'd scare her, but she'll never know now man so I just took care it for ya". like mairon does not forget, but sauron acts. so here we are, this is just a bonus part that did not make the final cut, but I wanted to share.

PARTS → one // two // three // four // five

The ash fell thick and heavy around his boots, muffling the sound of his steps and blotting out the soft, golden rays of sunlight that once bathed these streets. What had once been a bustling market square, filled with the vibrant hum of life, was now a desolate ruin. Orcs roamed the area, their guttural voices blending with the distant crackle of flames as they ransacked what little remained.

Sauron felt the weight of the destruction settle deep in his chest. This wasn’t simply ruin—it was disorder, chaos, an affront to the precision and beauty he had once valued so deeply. With a breath, he shifted back into his fairer form, his presence commanding even in this broken place. His gaze fell upon a familiar sight, and his steps carried him to the place where he had spent countless days and nights.

His fingers brushed lightly across the damaged workbench, the wood splintered and scarred yet still standing. It seemed untouched by time, as though no one had dared use it since his departure. Dust and ash blanketed the surface, but beneath the decay, the faint echoes of his craft lingered.

The tools hung neatly on the wall, most still in their place save for a few that had fallen during the siege. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked around the table, the anvil, and the furnace, each object holding an essence of the past. And then he saw it—the small, plush lounger tucked into the corner by the furnace, the one that had always been yours.

A rare smile touched his lips as he took it in, the sight pulling memories to the forefront of his mind. You would sit there for hours, book in hand, your presence a quiet comfort as he worked. He could almost see you there now, your head tilted slightly, a knowing smile playing on your lips as you glanced at him from over the brim of your book. You always claimed you loved watching him at work, that there was something calming in the precision of his movements.

“If you’re not rutting deeply in me, my love,” you had once teased, “forging is the only other place you truly seem at ease.”

The memory wrapped around him, bittersweet and vivid. He reached out and touched the arm of the chair gently, the warmth of the furnace long gone, but its echoes lingering. You were everywhere in this place—woven into its very essence, into every tool, every mark on the workbench, every shadow cast by the forge’s light. It was a sanctuary you had built together, a place of creation and connection.

Now, it was little more than a ruin. Yet even in its decay, it held fragments of you, of a time when the world was not yet cloaked in shadow. And for a moment, amid the ashes, he let himself remember.

Sauron paused mid-step, his sharp eyes catching a faint glimmer beneath one of the wall workbenches. Intrigued, he moved closer, crouching to inspect the source. With deliberate care, he swept away the layers of dust and soot, his movements slow, almost reverent, as the delicate object came into view.

It was the hairpiece you had worn on your wedding night.

For a moment, he simply stared at it, his thumb brushing over the intricate finery. The shimmering jewels embedded within still sparkled as brightly as the silver-glinting stars that had adorned the sky that night. He had planned to replace the stones, to craft something even more magnificent for you, one that would match the vibrant blue of the jewel in your necklace. But that night, the night he had planned to do so, was also the night everything had changed—for you, for him, for both of your intertwined fëar.

Still holding the hairpiece, Sauron moved to the plush lounger in the corner and sat, his posture unusually relaxed yet heavy with thought. His fingers traced the delicate design as if trying to absorb the essence of that moment long past.

Then, like a wave breaking against the shore, a memory surged through his mind. He could see you clearly, your beauty radiant beneath the light of countless stars, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him with the kind of love that had unraveled the very threads of his being. He had taken your hand that night, guiding you to a place beyond the boundaries of Arda itself—a plane of existence where only the two of you could dwell, unmarked by time, by shadow, by anything that might tear you apart.

And where he wished you had both stayed.

“And what do you wish to show me, that requires my eyes to be covered?” you teased, your voice light and playful as he carefully guided you forward, his hand firm yet gentle on yours. A mischievous smile curved your lips. “Because if you ruin my dress, I do believe you’ll have a very upset seamstress to contend with.”

Mairon chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a shiver up your spine. He leaned in close, his breath brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Then I shall have Vairë herself weave you a new one—with even more splendor.”

You felt his fingers gently push a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his lips skimmed the shell of it. “The very stars themselves, sewn into the fabric, so that you gleam like the night sky.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even as a warmth began to rise in your cheeks. With your eyes still closed, you turned your head toward him, sensing his presence near. His lips hovered just above yours, the proximity making your breath hitch.

“That tongue of yours,” you whispered, your voice laced with mock admonishment, “gets you into so much trouble.”

A soft chuckle rumbled from him, his amusement unrestrained. Only with you did Mairon smile so freely, so purely, his sharp edges softened into something entirely different.

“It is not the only thing my tongue can do,” he murmured, his voice laced with playful wickedness. His lips claimed yours then, teasingly capturing your bottom lip in a slow, deliberate kiss. The faintest pull of his mouth sent a rush of heat through you, your heart quickening as his words hung in the air.

“And you know that, divine,” he added, his voice like silk against your skin. Your face warmed further, and you bit back a giggle, both exasperated and utterly enchanted by him.

With a steady hand, he began to guide you once more toward your destination, the mystery of his intentions heightening the anticipation with every step. 

Once inside the forge he asked you to open your eyes, there in replacement of the wooden chair that you usually sat in was a plush lounger. Something completely out of place for this kind of setting. 

“For you,” he said, motioning to the chair. “So you can be comfortable while you read and—” he trailed of fingers tracing across your shoulders. “I may take my fill of you more comfortabely now.” You swallowed hard and turned to him, lips moving to caress his as your arms around his neck. You did not need to say a single thing to him for him to know you approved of your give. 

Mairon’s fingers ran down your back, untying the strings of your gown until it fell to the stone floor. You whimpered against his lips in distaste as his hands caressed every inch of you, pulling off the jewels and pearls until nothing but that silvery chain and your ring was the only thing adorning your body. 

He broke away and gazed into your eyes, sparkling and filled with lust just as his were. “Before you say it, divine, I will get you another.” You nod and he continued. “I want my wife in all her splendor right now,” He captured your lips once more and guided you to lay down on the lounger as he shucked his robes to lay with your gown. Until he to was only adorned by the golden chain around his neck.

His body lay tangled with yours as his lips and hands explored his beautiful elven-wife. Each caress was acompanied by a tug on his scalp or a moan of satisfaction. Mairon reached the point where he knew would bring the most sinful noises from your lips. You arched your hips to him so you could drape your legs over his shoulders. He moved to swipe a finger through the opening to see if he could get you to react to the stimulating touch, and he was reward.

“Mairon…” You moaned as he smiled devilishly before moving inches away from your clit. He had been painfully hard before this moment but now he was aching to fill you.

“Are you going to sing for me, my sweet Mori?” he asked, swiping his tongue through your lips with a painfully slow motion that drove your toes to curl in ecstacy. 

“Yes…always yes…” you panted and he gave you another lick before drawing away. “Please…” you whimpered now. “I…I…need…”

“Come now, divine, what happened to my oh so articulate wife?” He chuckled against you and sent your thighs tightening. Mairon then dropped your legs and moved to hover over your lips. “Tell me what you need,”

“You…all of you…for all my immortality.”

The words echoed endlessly through his mind, each one a hammer blow to his resolve as he clutched the delicate hairpiece in his hands. Regret clawed at him, sharp and unrelenting, for the ruin he had wrought, the choices that had led to this desolation. But in all the pain, in all the sorrow, there was one thing he never regretted—you. Never the love you had given him, pure and unwavering. Never the devotion you continued to show him, even when he had fallen so far, even after all he had done.

He had taken personal charge of this campaign, ensuring it would be executed perfectly, for his hands were steady, his will unshakable. And yet, he had harbored a singular, desperate hope: that he might buy you the time to escape. He had convinced himself it was his last gift to you, a fleeting redemption wrapped in an act of devastation.

A tear slipped free, unnoticed at first, until it struck one of the shimmering jewels on the hairpiece. The delicate stone dimmed as his darkness touched it, as though recoiling from the stain of his sorrow. More tears followed, unbidden, splashing onto the jewels like a mournful rain. Each one seemed to sap a little more of their light, until the once brilliant ornament felt like a reflection of himself—tarnished, shadowed, broken.

What had he done?

The question stabbed into his heart, the pain sharper than any blade. Why had he let himself become this? Why had he allowed fear and pride to chain him to the abyss?

Why was he such a coward?

He clutched the hairpiece tighter, as though it might anchor him, as though it might hold together the pieces of a heart that had long since shattered. But it didn’t. It couldn’t. The regret only deepened, the weight of his failures crushing down upon him, leaving nothing but the hollow ache of what could have been.

“My lord,” a disgrunted Orc’s voice said, Sauron looked up and in an instant threw one of the tools with a wave of his fingers at the Orc for seeing him as such, dealing a killing blow. He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and tucked the hairpiece beneath the folds of his robes, hiding it from view. Straightening, his gaze fell coldly on the fallen Orc at his feet, then shifted to the two others standing a few paces away. The weight of his presence pressed down on them, and they flinched as he stepped forward, his voice a low, menacing growl.

“Speak,” Sauron snarled, his piercing gaze locking onto them.

The Orcs bowed their heads hastily, shuffling forward under his scrutiny. One finally mustered the courage to speak, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound composed.

“Adar wishes to send word,” the Orc began, his tone deferential, “that the city has been completely overrun, and we are clearing out the last of the elves.”

Sauron tilted his head slightly, his sharp instincts picking up the hesitation in the creature’s voice. His brow arched, a silent command for the Orc to continue. The pause stretched uncomfortably before the Orc finally blurted out the rest.

“He has requested to see you,” the Orc admitted quickly, “as one of the High Officials has… requested to see you.”

Sauron’s eyes narrowed, his mind already racing through possibilities. “I thought all the officials had fled,” he said, his voice colder now, each word a blade that cut through the air.

The Orc swallowed hard, his eyes darting to his fallen companion sprawled across the stone street as though seeking some kind of silent support, though he would never recieve it. “That is what we believed, my lord,” he stammered, his voice faltering under the weight of Sauron’s gaze. “But… one has been found. They insisted on speaking with you directly.”

Sauron’s lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile, though there was no warmth in it, only a dark amusement. “Very well,” he said, his tone a mixture of disdain and curiosity. “Take me to them. Let us see what this official believes they can accomplish.”

He stepped forward, his robes brushing the blood-streaked stones as the Orcs bowed low and scurried ahead to lead the way. The hairpiece pressed against his side, a constant, silent reminder of the light he had lost—and the shadow he now wielded.

As they entered the city square, Sauron’s sharp eyes scanned the scene. Amid the ruin and ash, Adar sat on a crumbling stone bench, his sword resting between his legs, its tip embedded in the scorched ground. His posture was calm, almost contemplative, but his dark eyes flicked upward the moment Sauron approached. Orcs flanked him, two holding tightly to a fair-haired elf clad in high elven armor, their grips unrelenting despite the elf’s obvious defiance.

When Adar caught Sauron’s gaze, he rose smoothly to his feet, his movements measured and deliberate. He inclined his head in a deep bow, his voice deep and resonant as he greeted, “My lord.”

Sauron’s eyes narrowed, a faint smirk curving his lips as he took in the sight before him. “What do we have here?” he asked, his voice low and edged with curiosity.

At his words, the Orcs jerked the elf around to face him, forcing the captive upright. The elf’s armor, though tarnished and dented, gleamed faintly in the dim light. His fair hair fell in loose strands around his face, his piercing eyes blazing with defiance even as his captors tightened their hold. A face he knew to well, one he had wanted to meet on the battlefield and smite him into the ground.

Sauron stepped closer, his gaze appraising, and the faint smirk on his lips deepened as he studied Calandil. “Well,” he murmured, his tone almost amused, “this should prove interesting.” Calandil’s piercing eyes locked onto Sauron, and for a fleeting moment, there was recognition—a flicker of understanding that quickly twisted into seething anger. His body tensed, and he strained against the Orcs’ iron grip, his movements frantic and wild as though sheer will alone could break their hold.

“Where is she?” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice raw and trembling with both fury and desperation.

Sauron tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as a wicked smile spread across his lips. The expression was mocking, calculated, designed to provoke.

“Where is who?” he drawled, his tone smooth and taunting, as if he truly had no idea what Calandil was demanding. Yet the glint in his eyes betrayed him; he knew exactly what the elf was asking—and he savored every second of the Calandil’s torment.

“You better not have—” Calandil began, his voice rising in fury, but Sauron moved swiftly, cutting him off as he stepped closer, now standing directly before him.

“Or you will do what?” Sauron’s voice was a low, dangerous murmur, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. He leaned in slightly, his presence towering and oppressive. “As I see it, you are at my mercy now, elf,” he continued, his tone sharp as a blade. “Which is far more favorable than that of my masters.”

The smirk on his lips deepened, a predator savoring his prey’s helplessness. The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, an unspoken reminder of what Calandil already knew—he had no power here, not against Sauron, not in the heart of ruin.

But Calandil, he knew, always was famed for his rebellious temper and rash behavior. Mairon had been on the end of that, and now Sauron was not going to let that happen.

“You lied to her,” Calandil said, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, heavy with accusation.

Sauron paused, his expression unreadable, before slowly turning his head to Adar and the Orcs restraining the elf. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said coldly, “Leave us.”

And in that moment, Sauron resolved to give Mairon the satisfaction and retribution he so deeply craved. Calandil would meet his end, a calculated punishment for his insolence and defiance.

But not without cost.

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

The Princess opened up. It was strange… how all these details and stories she told made her so much more… believable. A mere two days ago, Somnus had barely cared for her arrival. It would have meant some discussions, some celebrations and a wedding that he was only a bystander to. And he would have been absolutely fine with that.

Not this princess was supposed to be at his side for the rest of their lives – and he at hers. It was not written in stone and Somnus still did not want to just be wed off because his brother liked to shirk any and all duty. But at least he could finally claim he knew more than the name and title of Aerith. She had been a whirlwind, apparently... maybe still was.

“You make my misbehaving pale if I compare your childhood antics to my own.”, Somnus claimed with a smirk, “I bet because if this it really is my parents sweating in the current talks and not yours.”

It was a grim topic, because both their lives were decided there and they got no insight. But Somnus found the thought amusing. He really wished his parents felt quite the pressure there. So far Queen Ifalna seemed the only level-headed there.

Though her mention about her powers and the stave… that really caught Somnus’ attention.

“A stave? I’d like to see that. And I won't rest until I did!”, it was an honest interest, his blue eyes mustering her, trying to imagine that. Shaking his head, he raised his eyebrows before counting what he had learned on his hands. He could not be too interested in her, right? That was not what was supposed to happen.. he had to bring the teases back. Though a lot more charming than before.

“So you are a professional climber, plants listen to your every whim, you procure water and you know how to fight with a stave – oh, let’s not forget the golden ability of healing ailments and wounds. Slowly I start to question why you had been on the market of available unmarried young nobles still yet. That does not add up.”

The gesture didn't go unnoticed. Somnus waited for her to catch up, while Roran remained some steps ahead in an excited trot. Her brother seemed to share his enthusiasm with his chosen chocobo like it was suddenly brimming with the same energy.

She even tittered a smaller laugh at the comment about driving others insane. It prompted her to glance the other way — where sure enough, a fourth chocobo was stopped, its rider staring down at them from a respectable distance. The Princess lifted her hand in a joyous little wave that was not returned.

"Huh, we never really did hunting. But my dad and his brother often do — I once heard an older noble speak of my mother going on a hunt with her father and I was dumbstruck. Of course I tried to use that information as a bargaining tool to go foraging which is probably a lot safer, but you have not butt heads with my mother, she's a master of the polite art of no." His parents had taken on a Herculean task.

How was she opening up so much? Must have been the fresh air. The taste of freedom, not having to stare at the same walls rooted in place. "Mhm! The prayerwoods are sacred grounds to us, and those trees are the highest. So. Of course I was a little barbarian and scaled one when my mother was communing with voices of our past."

Aerith regarded him with another small grin. "I was only eight and dad was so awestruck at the sight of the ceremony he kind of forgot to keep tabs on the little weed clambering up a tree." Hopefully her ancestors had enough grace to forgive a child for her antics. "I grow things, I water things, I climb things. Must be the cetra blood in me."

She hesitated with how to explain her other magic. The kind amplified by her ancestors, and looked to be glimmering jewels in her bracelet. But that was overcomplicating things, she didn't need to give the Prince a history lesson. "I trained with a stave quite a lot. Being cooped up boosted my drive to learn more about cetran magic. Whatever the world around us does, a cetra has studied it."

[yuseirra]

about marrying...

There was a magazine interview where they had Ai answer a couple of questions, and well, she didn't say no when asked if she had someone she wanted to marry. Seeing how she pictured a cute and loving family with Hikaru... I believe they really could have gotten married if things weren't this messed up.

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[deus-ex-mona]

the nghy sendoff scene is super cute!!

from hiyori’s confident smile and “just you wait! i’ll definitely report back with good news (about the track meet)!” and nagisa’s “yeah, i’m looking forward to it.”, showing his support and faith in her running abilities…

to their promise to keep in contact…

just… the contrast between nagisa’s slightly lonely look as he tells her “…keep in touch, ‘kay?” and hiyori’s bright smile as she agrees with a “yup! see ya!”…

and it seems like hiyori’s going to leave just like that, but t h e n

…she abruptly turns around to give nagisa an especially adorable angelic smile and wave and!!!!!!!!!

nghy are just so precious guys… they deserve all the happiness in the world…

live laugh love nghy!!!

[fanfic-obsessed]

I hope you don't mind me jumping in, becasue even though you only tangentially mention it, I love love love the Judgement of Paris for the sheer fuckery going on. Which makes everything 100x more ridiculous.

Before I get into it, there an ancient source or two, fragement really, that suggest that the entire Trojan war was actually ochestrated by Zeus basically trying to pull an Ultron (reducing the surplus population). It's only a scrap in the Cypria, but man that gives a different light on most of the Illiad.

That is just a side note.

So the Judgement of Paris starts with a wedding. Thetis, the nymph who was prophosized to be Achilles mother (who was meant to be the greates warrior in the ancient world), and was also beloved by Zeus, was marrying the mortal King Peleus. The event of the season.

Given that Achilles was one of the warriors who went to war for Helena, the timeline for this is a little strange but work with me here.

Back to Thetis's wedding. The event of the season, the gods and goddess all get an invite. Except one, Eris Goddess of Strife and Discord, who Thetis does not want at the wedding (The scraps from the Cypria imply that this was all according to Zeus's plan). Eris is deeply offended by this snub and decides to stir some chaos.

She creeps to the tree bearing the Golden Apples and plucks one and inscribes upon it 'For the Fairest'. Then she throws that apple into the wedding.

A fight immediatly breaks out, as the vanity of every person present comes out. Each insisting that the apple belonged to them. Then three voices ring out "The apple belongs to me" and everyone else take a step back. These three are Hera, Zeus's wife and queen of the gods; Athena, Goddess of War and Zeus's daughter; Aphrodite, Goddess of beauty and, depending on the story, one of Zeus's lovers.

Each of these three Goddesses turn to Zeus and ask him to decide who the apple belongs to. Now Zeus is many things, not all good, but stupid is not one of them. Even if he was not trying to spark a war, this is not a choice he wanted to make.

So Zeus is search for a way not to make this choice, he spies Paris tending livestock in a nearby field and has an idea.

Now Paris was born the youngest prince of Troy. At his birth the soothsayers prophecised that Paris would bring the ruination of Troy. When his parents went to have him killed for the good of Troy, a servant spirited the baby away to live as shepherd. Where Paris grows into a youth known for being fair minded and having good judgement.

So Zeus, seeing Paris, decrees that Paris shall decide who is fairest of them all.

Zeus sends Hermes with the three Goddesses to Paris in his field. Paris is also not stupid and goes "I cannot judge this contest, for if I look upon the Goddesses I will be struck blind with thier beauty".

And Hermes says that Paris must judge. To which Paris again tries to refuse, stating that, as a mortal, he can not judge the beauty of Goddesses.

Hermes says "Zeus has decreed you will judge who gets the apple"

Which basically made it a done deal. Reluctantly Paris agrees.

Now the Goddess, knowing that Paris cannot look upon them, each whisper a promise to Paris if he would judge in thier favor.

Athena Promises to make him the most powerful warrior in the world.

Hera promises to make him the most powerful man in the world.

Aphrodite promises the love of the most beautiful woman in the world.

It was Aphrodite's bribe that he took, which is the reason that Hera and Athena supported the Greeks during the Torjan War.

Now to swing back to timeline. Thetis and Peleus were Achilles parents, and their wedding sparked the Judgement. Though there is not a diffintive age for Achilles at the time of his death, different (much later sources), put him anywhere between 15 and 25 at the time the Trojan War started. So at minimum 15 years passed between the Judgement and the beginning of the War.

Helena's daughter Hermione was 9 when her mother went to Troy, so Helena was married at least 9 years before the Trojan War. In order to have a child, she had to have started her period and while there is not a set age for that, it is likely to be around 12 or 13. So we are putting Helena in her early 20's at the time the war started. Which, if we take the shortest amount of time between the Judgement and the War, was likely about 7 years old when Paris made his Judgement.

We also have a few sources that say that not only did Aphrodite send Eros to cause Helena to fall in love with Paris, but also for Paris to fall in love with Helena.

That means that when Odysseus made his deal with Helena's father, Aphrodite was already planning to give Helena to Paris and told no one involved.

The entire Trojan War, if was not actually planned by Zeus to kill off a bunch of mortals, was the result of two distinctly different runaway trains colliding.

The funniest thing about the Odyssey is when you learn that the main reason the Trojan war happened, it’s partially Odysseus fault.

Okay so the whole point of the Trojan war was to rescue one woman, Helen of Troy.

Now why would a bunch of kingdoms even care about one woman so badly?

Well a time before the Trojan war, Helen was basically the number one bachelorette in the ancient world. So she had a F*** ton of suitors. The father of Helen was legit nervous about having one actually marry his daughter, because whoever he picked would be happy, but the rest of the countries would be pissed. And he didn’t want war.

So in comes Odysseus, who was technically one of the suitors, but he actually wasn’t as interested in her. Nah, he had his sights on Penelope of Sparta, daughter of Icarius . So he goes to Helen’s dad. And tells the king he will solve the problem if he puts in a good word for him to Penelope’s dad about him courting his daughter. And the king agrees and asks for the solution.

“Hey King, why don’t you make all the men here swear an oath to protect the marriage of whoever is chosen. That way you don’t have to worry about war.”

Helen’s dad (human dad) king Tyndareus makes them all swear the oath to protect the marriage of Helen to who ever was chosen. Even if it meant war.

So the suitors agreed and the winner ended up being a guy named Menelaus. So Helen married Menelaus.

The king was happy with his son in law. No suitors revolted or started a war…

Until years later where Aphrodite promised a guy named Paris the hottest women in the world if he said he was the fairest compared to Athena and Hera. To which he agreed.

He stole Helen (who was kidnapped or went with him willingly because Aphrodite did some sneaky stuff.)

And because of the oath, EVERYONE of the suitors had to go fight for Helen, and they would bring their forces.

Funny enough Odysseus also had to go, even though he really didn’t want to, because he was after Penelope and got the woman he wanted. Dude already had a family and kid. Now he has to go to war.

Which shows how Odysseus life was ALWAYS shaped around Penelope. Even when he has to fight in a war for another woman