#i wish i could live in a house with a fireplace again

[verdemoun]

idk marstons and morgan angst

i fully believe that when john stops and goes 'what was her name? mary?' when arthur tells him not to live two lives in the sheep and the goats - he was about to bring up eliza and isaac and had to stop himself because as angry as he was he knew it would kill his brother

jack's drawing is him, abigail and arthur all happy with their sheep ranch - no john in sight. he originally drew it for abigail, who suggested he give it to arthur to avoid john seeing it. of course, john did in 1907 when he was ready to look through arthur's satchel, and immediately knew it wasn't him. felt he deserved it - and wondered if they would have all been happier if he and arthur switched places that night

at least once, but probably a lot more than once, in 1907, abigail didn't wish but wondered what her life would have been like if arthur had been the one to get off the mountain instead of john, and if arthur had recovered. she never loved arthur like she did john, and never would, but deep down she wondered just how happy they could have been together.

arthur would have treated her right and respected her, married her, encouraged jack's reading and writing and wouldn't have gone after fucking micah. he might've hated her cooking enough to offer to cook for them, and she could've escaped the wretched task. evenings could've been the three of them, comfortably sitting around a fireplace, listening to jack read aloud

especially when it was just her and jack bouncing around after proghorn ranch, jack would often catch her looking out the window and sighing sadly as if she could see the peaceful little house with horses and sheep, and jack smiling and happy learning from his devoted proxy father. he also learned this was a great time to ask about stories about the old days, the gang, and learned most of what he knew about uncle arthur during that time period.

after 1911, when abigail got sick, jack would read to her constantly. one picked up his father's journal one day, expecting to find stories from when they were young and in that pathetically sappy young love phase before he was born.

it wasn't until he reached 'abigail and marston keep arguing' that he realised it wasn't just his father's journal. realizing at the same time, abigail let out a shuddered gasp and asked him to keep reading. she had always held onto the past so much more affectionately than john had, and hearing arthur's inner thoughts was as comforting as him being in the room.

just for a second imagine abigail marston laying sick and dying, with tears of joy in her eyes as jack shows her drawings arthur did all the way back in 1899 of her 'in her prime', and a young jack, quick sketches almost like photographs

jack's voice cracking as he reads arthur's last entry, that desperate, deliberately heavy pencil writing 'john, protect abigail and jack', knowing he would, and did, only to turn the page to handwriting he recognizes again.

not getting the chance to finish reading it together, but one of the last things abigail gets to see before her mind is completely gone is john's excited, wonky, capital letters I'M GETTING MARRIED and knowing she'll get to see him again

[spacejammie-eimmajecaps]

It's been too many years since I've sat in front of a fire for warmth

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. II

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

part one

warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader

You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.

You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.

You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all. 

You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety. 

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it. 

Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.

He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.

He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.

You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.

The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.

He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.    

One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”

You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.

He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”

You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”

You nod, easing your posture.

He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”

You hum, nodding again.

“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.

You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.

Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.

You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions. 

“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment. 

You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him? 

He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?

You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more. 

You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.

Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist. 

He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.” 

He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”

“Yes.”

He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”

“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”

His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.

“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale. 

“But you like it?”

“Yeah, I—I do.”

He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”

You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.  

He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.

He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.

His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.

He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.

He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.

When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.

He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”

You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.

His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”

As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.

He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.

After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes. 

He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”

Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.

He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”

You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”

The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”

He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.

Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.

He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.

He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”

You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”

You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.

He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling. 

He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.

“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”

That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions. 

“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up. 

He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you. 

He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.

By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.

He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.

It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.

Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip. 

You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.

He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.

You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”

He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”

You sigh out, “Bruce, please.” 

He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in. 

He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.

He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”

You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.

The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.

He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation. 

He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.  

He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.

You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind. 

He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.

He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed. 

He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons. 

“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”

You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come. 

You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.

So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.

He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed. 

You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.

He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his. 

He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”

You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.

You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.

“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”

As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.

He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.

Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.

He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.

You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.

But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips. 

It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”

He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.

Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.

He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”

Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now. 

He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.

It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.

He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever  convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”

He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate. 

“Yeah?”

He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.

He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.

You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.

His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.

He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.

He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop. 

You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.

You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.

You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.

You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.

You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm. 

His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action. 

“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.

You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.

Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.

You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.

He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you. 

“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”

“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”

He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.

“Lay down.”

You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.

He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.

Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.

Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back. 

The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.

You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲

[sirompp]

oh no

its coming

taking me over

...

Christmas

[fayes-fics]

Wisteria

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Even wallflowers bloom, and Benedict sees it.

Warnings: none... this is just fluff

Word Count: 0.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon HERE, who wanted Benedict and a young, wallflower reader. Just a short little scene. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this. <3

You sigh as you once again find yourself wishing to be swallowed up by the wall behind you. And this is only your third-ever ball. The room is somehow both too hot and too cold all at once—a clamminess that has the applique of your dress itching and uncomfortable. You idly wonder if you took a wallpaper pattern to Ms Delacroix if she might be able to fashion a dress so similar you would not be visible at all…

It's not that you hate the idea of finding a match. Having a husband is most appealing. What is not so is the Ton’s preferred method—the awful parade and, indeed, inspection that comes with being a young lady taking part in the Season. You would much prefer to find someone with whom you could bond, away from all of this pageantry and artifice.

“Miss y/l/n…”

The rumbed, polite greeting instantly has butterflies twitching behind your ribs, your head swivelling with almost comedic speed as a tall gentleman pulls up next to you.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Quite the most handsome, eligible bachelor there is. Especially now that his brother, the Viscount, is so happily matched.

“Oh… Mr Bridgerton…!” You cringe at the squeak in your voice as you return his greeting, certain your cheeks are heating. “H-how is your evening?” Your query is polite, but you steadfastly keep your eyes averted, instead observing the swirl of dresses brushing the polished wood in front of you, the dancefloor filled with your fellow debutantes.

“It is better now…” 

“How so?” You can't help your bubble of curiosity, looking up at him. Well, a spot on his lapel—you feel unable to look properly upon him, knowing it may make you far too tongue-tied. 

“Present company,” he breezes, taking a sip of his champagne.

You turn left and right but quickly realise you are the only person nearby. Perhaps unsurprising given this spot is not optimal for anyone seeking attention, tucked as you are between a fireplace and a drinks table.

“Yes, you, Miss y/l/n,” he chuckles, his brow knitting bemusedly at your reaction.

Your cheeks are definitely aflame now. Why he would seek out your company, you have no idea. Yes, he has been a friend to your older brother for many years now, but you honestly did not believe he held you in any regard.

“After all,” he continues, “how could I not enjoy the company of a y/l/n?”

“But… I am so very different to my brother,” you frown slightly, thinking of how effortlessly your brother moves through the echelons of society, so at ease in any room, in any crowd. Not one to cling to a wall in any circumstance.

Benedict laughs, his face crinkling most attractively as he does so. “Indeed you are. But that is a good thing,” he remarks, “for I do not wish to court him.”

At first you are sure you misheard, but as you finally meet his gaze, you feel a burst of something warm and soft in your chest. His mein is warm and hope-filled but burning with a quiet intensity that steals your breath.

“Me?” you sound almost stupified. “But… I am a wallflower…” you blurt, wincing as you realise you have spoken aloud the word your parents have gently chastised you for being.

“Have you not spied the walls of Bridgerton House?” His tone is light and cheerful, a hint of amiable tease there that is so very him, a beguiling twinkle in those hazy eyes.

“Yes, of course….” you hesitate, not following his seeming change in topic, but unable to look away.

“Then surely you have seen how resplendent they are with wisteria?” He pauses as you nod, your attention wholly absorbed in him now, something so magnetic pulling you inexorably into him, almost alchemy. “Sometimes the most enchanting of flowers spend their lives clinging to a wall. Even when they finally blossom… And yet, their location does not diminish their beauty. Or their ability to attract admirers.” A crooked grin tugs charmingly at the corner of his mouth as he leans in a fraction closer. “So yes, you may indeed be a wallflower, Miss y/l/n, but you should know, I happen to think wisteria quite the most wonderful flower of all….” 

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ Home, For Christmas

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.3K

☆ ━ warnings: subtle talks of dani’s bitchass homophobic dad what’s new

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: in honor of gameday 🫡sorry this took so long you guys!!!! hopefully the next one won’t lol ALSO! y’all i wrote julia in for a reason, she will end up being important :)

CHRISTMAS DAY at her grandparents’ house is always cozy and warm, filled with laughter and the smell of cinnamon and pine. Dani’s family fills the living room, sprawled across couches, perched on armchairs, and gathered around the fireplace. Her aunts and uncles are trading stories, her little cousins are running around in holiday pajamas, and there’s a pile of presents under the tree, each one wrapped in brightly colored paper.

Dani sits in the corner of the couch, balancing her youngest aunt Julia’s newborn, Grey, in her lap. She’s been fawning over him all day, enchanted by his tiny fingers and the little yawns he lets out every now and then. His downy dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and his soft little hands rest against her arm as she holds him, his eyes drifting closed with that peaceful look babies seem to have mastered.

Julia, who’s only twenty-five and just as warm and lovely as Dani remembers from her childhood, sits beside her, watching Dani with a smile. “You’ve got the magic touch, Dani,” she says, nudging her gently. “He hasn’t fallen asleep for anyone else yet today.”

Dani grins, glancing down at Grey as he lets out a tiny sigh. “Guess he knows I’m his favorite already,” she jokes, stroking the baby’s soft cheek.

Julia shifts a little, leaning back against the couch, and after a moment, she glances sideways at Dani. “How’s your dad been doing?” she asks quietly, her tone careful.

Dani rolls her eyes, her expression slipping into something neutral. “It’s… whatever,” she says, keeping her voice low. “We don’t really talk much.”

Julia nods, understanding written all over her face. “Yeah. Me neither.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, and Dani knows why. Julia is certainly not married to Grey’s father, him having left long before Grey was born. It’s something that Dani’s dad has shamed Julia for, his conservative views casting his half sister as some kind of disgrace. Dani’s heard the things he’s said about her—heard him scoff at Julia’s life choices like they were some kind of moral failure.

She looks at Julia, her heart aching for her. “I’m sorry,” Dani says quietly. “He’s like that with everything, not just you.”

Julia lets out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to Grey, who’s now fully asleep, his little face relaxed and peaceful. “I know,” she murmurs. “But it still sucks. I just wish he could see… it’s not like I planned for things to turn out this way. But I love Grey. And I wouldn’t trade him for anything.” She smiles down at her son, her expression soft and full of love. “It’s just a difficult situation.”

Dani nods, her throat tight. “Yeah. I get it.” She glances down at Grey, feeling the familiar warmth in her chest. She doesn’t understand why her dad has to be so harsh, so unwilling to forgive. She’s been on that side of things when her own secret came to light, and when that same judgment had been turned on her, it was terrible.

Dani adjusts her grip on Grey, who shifts a little in his sleep, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her sweater.

After a moment, Julia speaks again, her voice soft. “So… are you and Paige still not talking?” she asks, her tone careful, but curious. “Last I heard, you two weren’t friends anymore.”

Dani’s stomach tightens a little, her gaze shifting to the floor. Julia’s met Paige plenty of times—Paige was practically family, as far as her grandparents and aunts were concerned. Dani can still remember how much her mom adored Paige, how her mom used to say that Paige was the best thing to happen to her, that Paige brought out this light in her daughter that she hadn’t seen in anyone else. It’s something that, in her quiet moments, Dani clings to—thinking that maybe her mom really would have understood her situation.

“Paige was always so sweet,” Julia continues, almost wistfully. “And I remember how much your mom loved her, Dani. She always said Paige was the best friend you could ever have.”

Dani sighs, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. Her chest tightens with the urge to spill everything—to tell Julia about how it was so much more than just friendship, how Paige is basically her entire world, how they love each other in a much different way than most know. Dani knows Julia isn’t homophobic, and she can’t imagine Julia judging her, especially after everything Julia herself has been through with her dad and such.

But the words catch in her throat. Her fear is too strong, a familiar, icy weight. She imagines what would happen if anything she said got back to her dad, even by accident. She remembers the camp, the isolation, the way it felt like she was being slowly erased. The thought of going back there makes her stomach twist with dread.

She takes a slow breath, then finally says, “No, we’re still not friends.” Her voice is flat, and she hates how empty it sounds. “And we’re… we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

Julia frowns, reaching over to place a comforting hand on Dani’s arm. “I’m sorry, Dani. That must be so hard. Losing a friend like that… I can only imagine.”

Dani just nods, swallowing back the ache in her throat. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Grey, who’s still blissfully asleep. “It is.”

Julia gives her a soft smile, a silent offer of comfort, but Dani barely notices, her mind drifting to thoughts of Paige. She feels like she’s buried that love as deeply as she can—hidden it away in a place where her dad and the church can’t touch it.

And she’s going to stay that way. Because that is what is going to keep it safe.

DANI SINKS into her blankets, watching Christmas Vacation play on her laptop, the warmth of the bed comforting against the bite of winter outside. She’d asked her dad to watch the movie with her, hoping for at least a little shared Christmas cheer, but he’d just brushed her off with a brief mutter of how tired he was. So here she is, alone, her room dimly lit, a quiet feeling of loneliness settling in.

The Griswold family is just finishing fitting their huge Christmas tree in their living room when Dani’s phone lights up beside her. She glances down and finds Paige’s name on her screen. Her heart does a little flip as she picks it up, biting back a smile.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

You home yet?

Dani ❤️‍🔥

yeah i got home like an hour ago

Paige ❤️‍🔥

you doing anything?

Dani pauses, glancing at her screen.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

watching christmas vacation in my bed

She sends the message and internally cringes a little as she realizes how lonely it sounds.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

By yourself?

Come over and watch it with me and my fam

Dani laughs softly, rolling her eyes. Of course Paige wouldn’t let her stay alone, not tonight. Paige always has that unwavering energy, that impulsive streak that Dani has never been able to resist.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

paige my dad’s home

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Sneak out!!!

I’ll come get you by your window

Dani stares at the screen, a little stunned, a little thrilled. Her fingers hover over the screen, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

you’re insane

Paige ❤️‍🔥

And yet ur not saying no 😁😁

A grin tugs at Dani’s lips, and she feels her pulse quicken. She glances at her door, hoping and praying for her sake that her dad was true on his word and that he’s asleep, then quietly swings her legs off the bed. Closing her laptop, she grabs her thickest hoodie from her chair, pulling it over her head. She finds her Uggs under the bed, slipping them on and making her way to the window, heart pounding in anticipation. Her fingers fumble a bit as she undoes the lock, the cold air hitting her face the moment she slides it open.

Peering outside, she feels her heart skip as she spots Paige standing below. Paige is bundled up in her coat, hands deep in her pockets, and despite the shivering, she’s grinning up at Dani like this is the most natural thing in the world. Snow has started to fall again, gentle flakes catching in Paige’s hair and dusting her shoulders. She looks really pretty.

“Hey!” Paige calls up softly, her voice a mix of excitement and impatience. “You comin’ down, or what?”

Dani can’t help the smile that spreads across her face. She leans out a little, gripping the window frame for balance. “This is so stupid, you know that?” she whispers, trying not to laugh too loud.

Paige just shrugs, her grin undeterred. “Live a little!”

Dani laughs softly, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. She glances down, assessing the climb, feeling a pang of nervousness when she sees just how far the ground looks. Her window isn’t exactly low, and she can’t be sure the snow is soft. She swallows, feeling her pulse quicken as she considers her next move.

“Paige,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down but still sounding panicked, “I’m going to fall!”

“If you do, I’ll catch you!” Paige whispers back, her voice carrying a confidence that only makes Dani’s heart beat faster. “Besides, there’s like a foot of fresh snow down here. You’ll be fine.”

Paige waves, motioning for her to climb down. Dani takes a deep breath, telling herself she’s done more dangerous things in her life than sneaking out of her own house. She slowly climbs through the window, her fingers gripping the cold edges of the siding as she carefully makes her way down. She’s almost to the bottom, just a couple of feet away from the ground, when her foot slips on the last ledge.

She lets out a small yelp, her fingers losing their grip, and she starts to tumble. There’s a split second of weightlessness, her heart in her throat, and then Paige’s arms are around her, just enough to slow her fall before they both collapse into the snow in a heap. The impact sends a puff of snow up around them, freezing and soft at the same time. Dani’s breath catches as she feels Paige’s arms around her, the warmth of her body cutting through the biting cold.

For a moment, they just lie there in the snow, laughing softly, breathless and tangled together. Their faces are close, so close that Dani can feel Paige’s breath against her cheek, warm and sweet, mingling with the cold night air. Paige’s cheeks are flushed pink, her nose red from the cold, and there’s a light in her eyes that makes Dani’s heart skip a beat.

Paige reaches up, brushing a few stray snowflakes from Dani’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You good?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Dani nods, her own cheeks flushed. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of every point of contact between them—their knees, their hands, the faint tremor in Paige’s touch as her fingers trace along Dani’s cheek. She shivers, but this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

Paige nods back, looking thoughtful, her hand dropping to swipe a bit of snow off Dani’s shoulder. She glances around, making sure no one’s watching, before leaning in. Her eyes search Dani’s face for a moment, just a flicker of hesitation, before she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against Dani’s.

The kiss is barely more than a whisper, a featherlight touch that’s over almost as soon as it begins. But it leaves Dani breathless, her heart racing in her chest as she looks up at Paige. There’s a warmth in Paige’s eyes that makes Dani’s stomach flutter, a tenderness that feels like the best Christmas gift she’s ever received.

Paige pulls back, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Come on,” she whispers, her voice warm, filled with a quiet joy that Dani feels mirrored in her own chest. Paige helps her to her feet, brushing snow off their coats as they stand together, grinning like conspirators in the snowy silence.

They link arms, Paige’s hand slipping into Dani’s pocket to hold her hand, the feeling of Paige’s fingers warming her whole body up. Together, they start making their way toward Paige’s house, the snow crunching beneath their feet, their laughter echoing softly in the stillness of the night.

They go through the back door of Paige’s house, each of them letting out a relieved sigh as the warmth surrounds them, chasing away the icy chill of the Minnesota night. Dani takes a moment to close her eyes, basking in the feeling of warmth creeping back into her fingers and toes, the familiar smell of cookies, cinnamon, and evergreen filling the air.

There in the kitchen, Drew is perched on a stool by the island, his legs swinging idly as he chews on a Christmas cookie dusted with red and green sprinkles. Bob, Paige’s dad, stands near the stove, pulling sprinkles out of a cabinet. A tray of freshly baked cookies cools on the counter, the sweet scent drifting through the room. Bob’s face lights up when he sees Dani and Paige sneaking in, a broad grin stretching across his face.

“Dani! Merry Christmas!” he exclaims, waving her over as if she were his own daughter. “I saved a couple cookies for you, but they almost fell victim to that creature—” he points to Drew, who giggles at the wording, frosting dusting the corners of his mouth “—over there.”

Dani laughs, an easy grin drifting to her face as she says, “I can see that. Thanks for letting me come over; I didn’t mean to intrude on family Christmas.”

Paige rolls her eyes, her hand on Dani’s hip as she pushes her toward the island. “Shut up, Dan, you’re never intruding.”

“She’s right,” Bob says cheerily, grabbing a couple plain cookies from the tray and placing them in front of the two empty stools next to Drew. “You’re family, Dani.”

Dani feels her face flush at his words, and her chest warms, too. It’s nice to know that they’re glad she’s here, that they don’t feel as though she’s intruding, that maybe she really belongs in this corner of her world. She’d really, really like to.

Dani sits on the bar stool next to Drew, and Paige sits on the other one so the brunette girl is in between the two Bueckers siblings. However, it seems as though the small distance between Dani and Paige is too much, because Dani feels Paige’s hand graze her thigh as she grabs hold of the stool Dani’s sat on, pulling it so close to her own that the two of them are practically sharing a seat. Their shoulders press against each other, as do the sides of their legs, and it’s enough to send a warm jolt through Dani.

Dani sends a little look to Paige, her brows raised ever so slightly, smirk playing her lips.

“What?” Paige asks, though she’s got a look that mirrors the Callan girl’s. “You were too far.”

Dani just shakes her head at the blonde’s words, watching as she grabs the remote and flicks through the Christmas movies until she finds Christmas Vacation, having told Dani that she should watch it with them instead and holding onto her word.

Dani feels a smile lifting her lips as she reaches for a cookie in the tray in front of her, placing it on her plate. She grabs a piping bag, too, squeezing a tiny bit of green icing onto her finger just to get a taste.

“Oh, you’re gettin’ into the icing already?” Paige teases, leaning in with an arched brow. She grabs her own piping bag and, without warning, dabs a bit of red frosting on the tip of Dani’s nose, laughing as Dani’s eyes widen.

Dani gasps, swatting at her with a laugh. “Paige!” she exclaims, grabbing her green icing before leaning over and spreading some onto Paige’s cheek in retaliation.

Paige’s mouth open in mock outrage, but before she can protest herself, Drew interrupts with a grin, reaching for another piping bag, and asking, “Are we having an icing fight?”

The seven-year-old’s words seem to catch Bob’s attention, who turns from where he was watching the movie to see what’s happening behind him. Dani watches his eyes trail over the green on her nose and the red on his daughter’s cheek and he gives them a playfully stern look before telling Drew, “No, buddy, no icing fight. You’ll get on Santa’s Naughty List next year if you do.”

Drew laughs a little, pointing at the two girls sitting next to him and saying, “Ooh, Naughty List.”

Paige just playfully sticks her tongue out at her little brother before grabbing a napkin. She dramatically uses it to wipe the red icing off of her cheek, before balling it up and tossing it back onto the island. Dani rolls her eyes at the blonde’s dramatics, reaching to grab her own napkin to clean up her nose. But Paige swats at the hand Dani was reaching. Dani sends Paige a look, watching as the girl beside her cautiously glances at her dad and Drew—whose attention’s have both been captured by the movie—before leaning in and grinning as she kisses the tip of Dani’s nose and then sticks her tongue out to lick the icing away. She pulls back and Dani’s sure her face is red—especially due to the proximity of Paige’s family—but Paige is just smiling mischievously, using her tongue to swipe away any remaining frosting on her lips.

Dani finally takes the liberty to actually decorate her cookie, deciding for the traditional Christmas tree route. She’s spreading the green icing along the sugar cookie carefully, her eyes occasionally flicking between Christmas Vacation and Paige decorating her own cookie. It’s more endearing to watch the latter—she’s decorating with exaggerated precision (though if Dani’s honest, she can’t tell what the glob of frosting is meant to look like… it might be an ornament), her tongue sticking out in concentration, her hair falling into her face ever so slightly. Dani flicks her eyes away, back to her own handiwork.

At one point, Paige leans over to whisper to Dani, “Look at Drew’s cookie… the sprinkles…”

Dani does as the blonde says, her gaze finding Drew, to the left of her. He’s humming quietly to himself, concentrating on drowning his cookie in red and green sprinkles, his fingers sticky and his cheeks dusted with sugar. Dani stifles a giggle as she leans in even closer to see the cookie piled high with so many sprinkles that it’s almost unrecognizable. She catches Paige’s eye, and they both burst into quiet laughter, trying not to let Drew hear.

“Hey, it’s nice!” Drew defends, noticing their stifled laughter.

From where he’s standing, Bob chuckles, watching the exchange with a fond smile. “You’re doing great, Drew,” he says, reaching over to ruffle his son’s hair, eyes flicking across the three cookies the kids before him are making. “Though, I think you and Paige both have some competition in Dani here.”

Dani watches as Paige looks at her dad in betrayal, though it’s true—her cookie is terrible. Dani just grins, nodding, nudging Paige’s knee under the counter. “Years of practice,” the brunette says in a mock-serious tone before carefully adding a few more sprinkles to her cookie.

Paige rolls her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever. Mine tastes better.”

CHRISTMAS VACATION ended not too long ago, and Drew and Bob went upstairs to bed, leaving Dani and Paige alone. The warm glow of the tree casts a soft light over the living room, and Home Alone now plays quietly on the screen, adding to the late-night comfort. Dani’s curled up against Paige, the two of them snuggled under a thick fleece blanket, Paige’s arm wrapped securely around her. Dani lets herself drift, lulled by the movie, the warmth, the way Paige’s fingers trace soft circles over her shoulder.

But then Paige shifts slightly beneath her, murmuring, “So… I know we promised not to get each other anything…”

Dani’s eyes immediately flick from the TV to Paige, her brow furrowing as she pulls back slightly, a hint of accusation in her gaze. “Tell me you didn’t get me something.”

Paige, looking a little sheepish, averts her eyes and rubs the back of her neck, mumbling, “Well…”

“Paige!” Dani sits up fully now, her voice holding a mixture of surprise and mild reproach. “We promised not to!”

“I know, I know!” Paige protests, her face flushed as she tries to defend herself. “And I wasn’t going to, I swear! But then I was at the mall literally yesterday, just doing some last-minute shopping for my family, and—” She pauses, looking a bit embarrassed but determined to explain. “I saw this thing that really reminded me of you…”

Dani sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as she shakes her head. “Paige…”

“I know,” Paige says quickly, hands lifted in a half-hearted attempt at appeasement. “But it was on sale because of the holidays! I hardly spent any money on it.”

Dani narrows her eyes, trying not to let the affection she feels soften her mock glare. “Still. I feel bad. If I’d known you’d gotten me something, I would’ve gotten you something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Paige says, shaking her head earnestly. “I was the one who went against our promise, not you.”

They fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the movie on the TV. Dani’s gaze flickers to Paige, whose face is shadowed in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in the way Paige looks at her, something almost tentative, and it makes Dani’s heart ache in a way she can’t quite name.

Finally, Paige speaks up again, her voice soft. “Can I go get it?”

Dani nods, and Paige disentangles herself from their cozy nest of blankets, slipping upstairs while Dani stays on the couch, her mind racing a little. She knows Paige put thought into this, that whatever it is, it’s going to mean something.

Moments later, Paige is bounding down the stairs again, a tiny jewelry box held carefully in her hand. She pauses by the couch, her gaze flickering between the box and Dani, and Dani watches her, heart thudding with a mix of anticipation and warmth.

“Here,” Paige says softly, holding out the box as she sits back down beside Dani, even closer than before, their entire sides pressed up against each other.

Dani takes the box, feeling the slight weight of it in her hands, and slowly lifts the lid. Inside is a delicate silver necklace, the pendant small and simple—almost nondescript, but close up she can see the engraving on it, the tiny, intricate letters that spell out a single word: home.

Dani’s breath catches as she stares down at the pendant, her fingers trembling slightly as she lifts it. She can feel her throat tighten, emotion welling up inside her as the weight of the word hits her fully. It’s more than a necklace; it’s a message, a reminder of everything Paige has been to her, a promise that wherever Paige is, she’ll always have a place to belong.

She glances up at Paige, her eyes stinging, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you really thought of me when you saw this?”

Paige nods, her gaze soft and steady, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against Dani’s. “Yeah,” she says, her voice equally soft, almost like she’s afraid of breaking the moment. “I know things have been… hard, with your dad and everything. I just… I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’ll always have a home with me. No matter what.”

Dani feels the tears slip down her cheeks, and she doesn’t bother to wipe them away. She just lets the words sink in, lets herself feel the weight of Paige’s thoughtfulness, her kindness, the unwavering support Paige always seems to offer, even when Dani feels like she doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Paige moves closer, pulling Dani into a hug, her arms wrapping securely around her. She rests her chin on top of Dani’s head, her fingers gently stroking her back, and Dani melts into her, closing her eyes and breathing in Paige’s familiar scent.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs into her hair, her voice soft and steady, filled with a warmth that wraps around Dani like a blanket.

Dani’s own arms tighten around Paige, and she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. Then, slowly, Paige pulls back, her gaze meeting Dani’s, and there’s a question in her eyes, one Dani answers by leaning in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s.

The kiss is gentle, almost tentative at first, a quiet meeting of emotions unspoken. But as the seconds stretch, Dani lets herself get lost in it, her hand slipping up to rest against Paige’s cheek, her fingers brushing along her jaw. Paige’s hand finds the small of Dani’s back, pulling her in closer, and Dani feels her heart pounding, the warmth of Paige’s touch grounding her, steadying her.

When they finally pull back, their faces are close, their breaths mingling, and Dani can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s soft and true, filled with a happiness she rarely allows herself to feel.

Paige grins back, her fingers brushing over Dani’s cheek as she murmurs, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

Dani’s voice is quiet, but full of warmth. “Merry Christmas, Paige.”

[koisuko]

Hear me out, but how about a shy female reader who has been chosen as one of earthrealm's champions but Bihan doesn't see it due to her being short and shy, he makes a comment about it but is shocked when the reader gave a smartass response to his comment which peaks Bihan's curiosity about the reader?

Tw: none, shy reader, fem reader, no use of y/n

You lived a fairly reclusive life, hidden away in a densely forested area surrounded by high mountains. There were very few homes nearby with the nearest neighbor being 100 kilometers away. Just how you liked it, away from strangers in your cozy cabin. It was a paradise, a shy persons dream.

You sat on your brown sofa, the cushions so pillowy it nearly swallowed your petite frame. Beside you, your sole company in the isolation you live in, a small black cat. Soft purrs accompanied the crackle of the flames before you, your toes wiggling near the fireplace for warmth. A sigh left your lips, at the relaxation taking a hold. All the chores were done, you finished your reading, and you had gotten off your online job just an hour ago. You had nothing to do but relax. A hand stroked the silky black fur of your cat, the purrs a gentle lullaby. Your eyelids grew heavy, barely having the strength to fight the impending nap. Not that you wanted to, naps were your favorite thing after all.

One..two..three knocks on your front door jostled you from your drowsy state. A spike in anxiety hit, fear of who or what could be here. You never really had visitors, or many friends outside of your cat and family. There is no one you know to be visiting anytime soon, so who is it? Slowly, you approached the front door, a nervous expression on your face despite your best efforts to seem confident. Armed with nothing but your fists, you stood just inches from the wooden barrier. You knew how to fight, if it was necessary. A woman in the middle of no where needs her protection! You’d be damned if you unhooked the chain lock at the top of the door. You mustered up the courage to place a cautious hand on the door knob. Was it hot in here? You could feel the sweat begin to bead at the ridge of your brow. A sigh left your lips as the door slowly creaked open. On the other side we’re not one, but three large burly men. This is your end, isn’t it? “U-uh h-hello?” You squeaked out, earning a scoff from a man wearing blue. His face seemed molded into a permanent scowl, and his scrutinizing gaze locked on to what little of you peaked from behind the door. The first to speak, was a man with bright white eyes. “Greetings, I am Lord Liu Kang, God of fire, Protector of Earthrealm,” his voice was oddly calming, but not enough to block out the body guards beside him, “May we enter?” Enter? As if! His title seemed like something straight out of one of your novels. “M-may I ask what business you have here?” You cleared your throat, anything to rid the lump making it hard to speak. “N-no offense but..I think you have the wrong house.” Liu Kang’s bright orbs creased at the corners in a smile, “I assure you we are at the correct residents.”

Shit, you thought. A thick clump of saliva made its way down your throat, causing you to nearly choke on it. “We can talk outside, if you wish,” he added. Something about this man was…strange yet peaceful. What choice did you have? You puffed out your chest and unhooked the chain keeping these intruders outside. All within a split second, you swung the door open and readied yourself for a fight with a defensive position. Unfortunately, a pathetic squeak left your lips as soon as the door smacked the wall. The two men behind Liu Kang chuckled, one with a more lighthearted giggle, and the other a demeaning one. Liu Kang smiled once again, bowing his head respectfully. You straightened up with an awkward gulp so loud the birds outside could hear it, “I uh..sorry.” He shook his head, “it is understandable, your bravery is admirable.” That soothed your nerves just a bit, until, the man in blue spoke for the first time. “This is the chosen champion?” His lip curled into one of distaste as he eyed you down, “pathetic.” It was one thing to hate everything around you, but to insult you before seeing your skills was a whole new level. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, popping a hip out with a snarl, “you look like a mere boy with sticks for arms compared to the men I’ve fought!” He didn’t say a word, instead, he scoffed and averted his gaze elsewhere. Although, despite his initial burning expression, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking at you. It was barely noticeable, but a spark flickered just behind that ice cold exterior.

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Cregan Stark × reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.03

The hour was late, and there was not a soul aside from yourself and Prince Jacaerys in the guest house in Winterfell, so you were able to speak freely with each other away from any prying eyes. Your nephew's most recent revelation causes unexpected feelings of grief and sympathy to unfold.

The poisonous actions of your own family had spread so far it caused Rhaenyra to go into premature labor. “My condolences, Jacaerys. I did not know your mother had lost her babe.”

“Did word not reach the keep?”

“If it did, I was not informed.” You sigh, “Losing a babe is a lonely experience. I wouldn’t wish on my worst foe.”

“You speak as if you know this from experience?”

You feel a sudden chill; the only light in the room was from the candles on the table and the flames from the fireplace. Even in the dim light, you can make out the glossiness in his eyes; he was fighting to hold back tears. “A few years ago I had a babe that came early, a girl. I was going to call her Visenya.” You scoff, “Perhaps the name is cursed.”

“I’m sorry.”

The dead girl's birth was more painful than Maitland’s. The maester had no understanding of what caused the premature birth; the only thing you knew for sure was that you were completely alone. “I couldn’t bring myself to say it,” your voice begins to crack. “At her funeral, I couldn’t bear the thought of my own dragon being the one to set my tiny daughter pyre on fire, so Aegon commanded Sunfyre to do it.”

The mention of your brother causes Jacaerys to tense up. He looks furious.

“I know you think he is a monster, but he was the only one who helped me through my grief.”

Confused, he asks, “What about your mother, husband, or Helaena?”

You sit back in the hard wooden chair and smile at the mention of your sister. “Helaena is the most kindhearted and gentle of us, but she doesn’t cope well with death. It took her three moons for her to speak with me again, and even then my sweet sister only spoke in riddles.”

“What about Alicent?”

You lift the cup of wine sitting you had yet to touch to your lips in a poor attempt to hide the involuntary scoff. You rarely saw eye to eye with your husband, but your mother being untrustworthy was something you always agreed upon. “I have kept her at arm’s length and have for many years, trusting nought that she says.”

Jacaerys looks horrified. He was struggling to understand what it must be like to have a family that did not care much for one another.

“Do not fret, my prince,” you say reassuringly. “Not all mothers can care for their children in the way they perhaps wish they could.”

“Was Aemond not there to comfort you?”

Visenya’s death is what completely shattered your marriage. The broken feeling of sitting in your bedchamber alone after the silent sisters came for your daughter still haunted you. Not only should Aemond have been mourning with you, if he was there, they wouldn’t have taken Visenya away from you so soon. You prayed he would burst through the door when the midwives ripped the dead babe you had been cradling from your arms, but he never came.

He was with his whore, missing everything.

When Aemond returned and the maester told him what happened, he beat his knuckles bloody against the wall and only stopped when Ser Criston managed to restrain him.

“No, he was not,” you finally take a large gulp of the bitter-smelling wine. “My brother Daeron is kind, but he lives in OldTown. He wrote to me more than usual, but it was only Aegon who visited me when I was inconsolable.”

Jace says nothing.

“It’s not Aegon’s fault; all of this was my grandsire, Criston, and the men that sit in their council. They were the ones who plotted for years.”

“And your mother? Was she not the ringleader of the rightful queen being usurped?”

“My mother thinks she has a voice in the council, but she is yet to see that it was only possible previously because the king allowed it.”

“How did King Viserys die? Daemon thinks he was poisoned.”

“Perhaps he was.” You look down at the smallest candle and watch as the last of the wax melts away. “Will the queen be merciful when she sits upon the throne? Will she spare Helaena?”

“If you bend the knee, she will gladly take you into her heart, all of you. Our family doesn’t need to be torn apart.”

“It's not only our family who’s been affected. We’ve turned brother against brother. Ser Erryk is on Dragonstone while Ser Arryk remains in the keep. The kingdom's divide has already begun within the kingsguard. I dread to see what will become of the small folk.”

“When my mother takes kings landing, Daemon’s first act will be to hang all those who betrayed her, including the kingsguard who remain loyal to Aegon.”

“It’s not so simple, Jacaerys. Ser Arryk, he only stayed because he’s sworn to me, to my son. Not because he agrees with what happened. Everyone knows my father chose his line of succession; he wanted Rhaenyra on the throne then for you to be king.” You lean your arm over the table and take Jacaerys hand. “If I tell you something of value, you must promise that you’ll never say you heard it from me.”

“What—”

“Swear it.”

He nods, “Yes, I swear it.”

You let go of his hand; tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “On the day he was crowned king, Aegon tried to flee. And he has considered doing it again, but my mother and grandsire have the keep-on lockdown. But it may be possible if someone helps him.”

“Who… you would help him leave?”

It felt like a betrayal discussing Aegon in such detail with another, but you needed Jacaerys to understand the blacks weren’t the only threat to your family. “I would, and not because I don’t believe your mother would spare his life if he bent the knee, but because I know what would happen if he did.”

A look of understanding passes his features. “His own men would turn on him.”

“If Aegon is gone, his son Jaehaerys is next in line. Healena does not want this for him; she will gladly hand the city over to Rhaenyra, and without bloodshed.”

“I have the feeling you are still withholding.”

“Of course I am,” you chuckle lightly as the tears you fought so hard to hold back finally fall. “I do not wish to send my own brother to death. I want to save him from being crushed under the weight of a crown he did not ask for.”

“Do you really think he’d leave his wife and children?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly. “He cares for the twins, but it didn’t stop him from trying to leave before.”

Jacaerys looks uncertain, but how could he not be? There were things you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t begin to explain that you’ve seen the threat from the north, his mother sitting on the iron throne. The death of thousands by the hands of dragon flames. How you just knew your mother would betray Aegon one day.

“It’s late,” Jacaerys stands up. “We should both sleep and speak again tomorrow. Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, nephew.”

When Jace leaves and you are alone, you begin to crumble. You desperately try to hide the sobs escaping your mouth; exhaustion and pent-up emotions are finally catching up. You pick up the small wooden toy sitting on the table and hold it tightly. Maitland had many toys, and you hope he wouldn’t seek the one you took to feel close to him until you return.

Hearing a soft knock at the door, you rub at your eyes, and presuming it’s Jacaerys, you open the door and are taken aback when it’s not him. “Lord Stark,” you step back to let him in. “Forgive my unladylike appearance; if I had known you were coming, I would have dressed more appropriately.”

Being in a nightgown and robe with only Jacaerys as company didn’t phase you, but in front of the Lord of Winterfell it was rather embarrassing.

“Forgive me, I saw the candlelight and presumed you were still awake... We can speak in the morrow.”

“No, my lord,” you cross your arms over your chest and smile. “It’s fine.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before continuing. “From the moment I returned to my chambers, my son has been all over me. Apparently he’s going to meet the bronze fury.

You smile. “He asked today if he could come with me to see the dragons, but I wanted to check with you first.”

“I—can you assure he won’t get hurt?”

“No dragon can ever be completely tamed, but their emotions are entwined with their riders. And since I hold no ill-will towards your son, he’ll be safe.”

“Okay, he may go with you.” He reaches to open the door. “I best be going; try and get what little sleep I can, as I’m sure Rickon will be up early with excitement.”

“Goodnight, Lord Stark.”

“Cregan,” he locks eyes with you. “When it’s just us, you can call me my first name.”

Mother above, you could only imagine the look on the dowager queen's face if she heard a lord give you leave to speak his name.

“And when it’s just us, you may still refer to me as princess, Cregan.”

He smirks at your teasing. “I’ll see you in the morrow, princess.”

—

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘎𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘷𝘪. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮’𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯.

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, “𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. “𝘔𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—”

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?”

“𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘦𝘭. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.”

“𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 ��𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

"𝘕𝘰, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦; 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯, “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵? 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳. “𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵; 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘨. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?

“𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦; 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦,” 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘭𝘺.

“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴.

𝘉𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥.

“𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯?”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭,” 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.”

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴, “𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵; 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

—

“As you say it’s difficult with sons, I dare say I spoil my boy. He’s inherited most things from me, even the things I wish he did not.” You lean against the wooden bannister, standing beside Lord Stark, watching as Rickon plays with his direwolf on the snow below. “Your son, Rickon, is a very kind boy; you must be proud.”

“Northerners are born hardened; it’s in our nature, but I do sometimes regret my son not having the softness of a woman to help guide him. But as you say, he is kind, and that’s all I could ask for.” Hearing the Lord of Winterfell speak of his son in such a way was bittersweet. You didn’t doubt Aemond’s love for Maitland, but your son being kind wouldn’t be high on his priority. “And I’m sure the young prince is lucky to have a mother who loves him dearly.”

You clear your throat. “I find it rather fascinating how different things are outside the city I grew up in. A young lord or lady not marrying soon after their spouse dies is almost unheard of.”

“I could have,” he muses. “My marriage was political, but I was lucky; I grew to love my wife, Arra. She was soft-spoken and would sing a lot. I did not believe it would be possible to find another like her or anyone so deeply devoted to loving another woman’s son. The ladies I entertained with the idea of marrying showed little to no interest in Rickon, so I chose not to bring them into his life.”

You turn to face him and say, “Not many men would say that. Most of them would put desire above love and duty without a second thought.”

Cregan rests his arms beside you on the bannister and leans in ever so slightly, a mischievous smile pulling on his lips. “Tis possible for both to exist; even the most dutiful of men and women still have desires, princess.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile. “You wouldn’t have fared well growing up in the keep as a lady, my lord. I was taught if a woman had improper desires or urges, they were to go pray in the sept for forgiveness.”

You feel the warmth from his body when his broad shoulder brushes against your own. His voice is lower than before when he says, “Winterfell doesn’t have a sept to pray in.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Vermithor landing just outside the walls of Winterfell.

“I believe it’s time for Rickon to meet my dragon.”

—

True to your word, Rickon was unharmed when you took him to greet the bronze fury up close. You even flew around the outskirts of Winterfell three times before Vermithor landed beside Silverwing from the same location you left.

Rickon took your hand and excitedly pulled you through the castle grounds until he spotted Lord Stark and the maester, who were patiently waiting on him. As you watch the young boy go to attend his lessons, you jump, hearing a voice beside you.

“A morning he will never forget.”

“Nephew,” you take in his appearance. “Are you going hunting?”

“Yes, I’ve been invited to join several of the lords; however, I reckon whatever I catch will be devoured by Vermax.”

Jacaerys offers you his arm, which you take. “Very ill-tempered for a little thing, I imagine he will be formidable when fully grown.”

“Big enough to saddle two, so the dragon keepers say. I wanted to let you know the queen has written; she has refused Aegon’s terms.”

“What terms?”

He narrows his eyes, “the ones your grandsire, Otto Hightower, spoke of when he stepped foot on Dragonstone. Did you not know?”

“I was unaware he had even left the keep at any point.”

“The former queen claims me and my brothers will be treated kindly; after my own mother bends the knee.”

“Alicent speaks with two tongues.”

“I suspected as much. She spent years calling us bastards.” When you reach the stables where the other lord's horses are being prepared, he lets go of your arm. “Lord Stark isn’t going; I believe he is staying so he can speak with you in private.”

“I won’t go back on my word. I will do what I can to help your mother sit on the throne.”

He nods and begins to walk towards the stables.

“Jacaerys,” you call after him. “It’s true you don’t share the same features as your mother, but that does not make you a bastard.”

“Do not jest,” he says defensively.

“People will believe what they wish and may whisper behind your back, but it doesn’t change the fact you are of blood and fire,” you cup his cheek. “Ser Harwin had blue eyes. You have brown eyes, as did Ser Laenor.”

You almost feel guilty seeing the look in his eyes. Had the young boy not thought of this before? The rumors of Rhaenyra’s sons being bastards were most likely started, but those on the Green Council as another way to belittle and discredit a woman in a position of power. It is known Aegon has bastards, but not once has it ever been mentioned at court.

You are caught off guard when you turn to walk in the opposite direction, and Cregan is waiting for you. Smiling, you walk towards him, “my lord.”

“Princess, I was wondering if you care to join me in the godswood.”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad; I believe we have much to discuss.”

[helenazbmrskai]

Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke [2/2] - End

Title [Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke.]

Pairing [Northen Duke! Yoongi x Reincarnated! Reader]

Genre [Fantasy Romance, Reincarnation, World in a novel AU, smut, angst]

Summary [You might be a lady with a significant house backing you but Yoongi thinks he’s not lacking anything as a husband candidate. He could give you money, real estate, jewellery, dresses everything you wanted so why did you reject him so confidently? The Duke of the North is getting a stack of marriage proposals daily that could fuel the fire in the fireplace all day long in his office so why did YOU reject him again?]

Words [10,1k]

Warnings [harassment, mention of blood, mention of hunting animals, sexual content: oral sex, unprotected sex]

Rating [+18]

A/N: This is not perfect but I hope you guys will like the ending of this story.

Masterlist // part 1 // I don't do tag lists anymore I'm sorry!

As a quote “knight”, you wear your dress and accessories like armour on your way to the battlefield which is called idle chatting with the noble ladies. You feel like you got accustomed to your circumstances by now being in a new world in a stranger's body.

You completely merged yourself with Y/N. It gives you an advantage that some things come to you naturally but on the other hand, it’s scary because if you accept this as your reality then that means you’re stuck here forever. Don’t be mistaken after you died in your previous life and reincarnated this is something to be grateful for – this is your second chance at living. Even if you’re aware of all that you keep wondering if your family back there is ever missing you or if they are living well, or if your friends or coworkers think about you sometimes. It feels like you’re living a double life. The people around you have a conception of your personality they’ve seen you grow up with them but in the end – you’re not Y/N. If you think about that you feel miserable.

They don’t know you. They now Y/N.

Even if Y/N now is – you.

There’s only one person you can be truly yourself is surprisingly when you’re with Yoongi.

Can’t make much of an excuse today as you’ve avoided attending these events altogether. Avoiding Yoongi. There’s no fantasy romance novel without a hunting competition scene so you know these gatherings quite well. The men go out hunting and the person who gets the rarest animal as prey wins the competition. All this time women are dressing up and gossiping all day. You’re not too keen on joining them today but since you were personally invited you cannot refuse even if you wanted. The moment they set their eyes on you behind their fancy fans you know they are up to no good.

This is the time when the female lead is ridiculed and humiliated so why are you in this situation when you’re supposed to be the villain bullying people? They invite you to sit but their smiles tell you they’re not really happy to see you show up in their circles.

“It’s been a while Lady Y/N.” The first to speak is Duchess Hee; as far as you know, you’ve never talked before. You greeted each other in formal settings but that’s about it. Whilst her expression is controlled you could sense hostility from her. Even though you’re not going out much Y/N is still getting new enemies on top of the old ones – can you call this the buff of the villainess? You’re unsure how to assess the situation so you decided to grasp the atmosphere first and speak carefully for now.

“Yes Duchess Hee, have you been well?” You gracefully sit on the empty chair between two ladies who continuously glare at you. Y/N is a notorious troublemaker who disregards everyone under her status so the ladies seem surprised at how coordinated you are. You just wish things go well enough that no one tries to pull your hair today.

“Of course. I haven’t seen you much these days perhaps were you sick?” It’s obvious that she’s trying to mock you. Everyone knows that you were on probation by the order of the duke after the mishaps you created in the social circles.

You have no idea why she’s attacking you all of a sudden but you need to be smart about this.

The rule is that the one who gets angry first is the one who loses so you need to keep your cool no matter how they try to provoke you. If a reasonable amount of time passes then you can excuse yourself that you’re not feeling well and you can get out of here.

You need to hold out until then.

“No, I’ve been well thank you for asking. I’ve been reflecting on my actions during that time. If I caused trouble I hope the ladies could forgive me with a gracious heart.” Smooth. Some of them seem taken aback that you apologised so they are momentarily at loss of words. Some awkwardly laugh it off and some keep glaring. The duchess however keeps her eyes on you probably trying to find some fault in you to get started.

Since Y/N had a bad temper her visceral reaction was to get angry at the slightest disrespect but you’re different. You’re not that easy to provoke. You’re a modern woman who worked in a capitalistic company for years – some backhanded rude comment won’t do much.

“It feels like the lady is a different person. How unexpected. What could have made you change so much? Perhaps .. a new lover?” You almost spit out the tea when you hear the duchess’ inquiry. This is so unexpected that don’t know what to say for a moment.

“Ah, yes? Well, no I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” You try to cover up your slip-up but the duchess’ smile is getting bigger but not in a good way. What is she up to?

Is she on the Min Yoongi fanclub as well; because that would explain so much.

“I see. I must have heard wrong then.” She let it go too easily, something smells fishy here. After that, the conversation finally drifted over to other topics like gem mines and dresses. It was clear they were talking in a way that you couldn’t contribute to the conversation but you’re not too sorry about that as you were not going to participate in the first place. Their plan to make you isolated in a conversation to make you feel bad is surprisingly mild. You’ve been expecting much worse.

“The tea is very fragrant. Recently my family imported jasmine tea so I hope the ladies enjoy this fresh taste.” To be honest the tea is pretty bland but everyone agrees and the marchioness looks pleased by the other's reaction. When you’re not saying anything they all look at you.

Since you feel pressured by their gazes you lift the cup to get another sip as you’ve not touched your tea all this time. You prefer coffee however, if you said that it would just be another thing to nitpick.

“Right, it’s delicious.” For some reason the ladies look impatient, they were sure this would work but you’re not reacting how they want you to. No matter how much backstabbing they are doing with their politely crafted insults you’re not budging.

It’s subtle but the lady on your right makes eye connect with the Duchess right before her hand slips and your dress is ruined by the dark liquid. She made it seem like an accident but there’s no way her hand would naturally slip like that – it was intentional.

It’s hot though. Your smile never falters after all this is a good opportunity to make your leave natural.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry my grip is feeble lately. I hope you forgive me.” You internally sigh at the bad acting; she’s even snickering under her nose behind that fan it’s clear what the intention was. She’s not really sorry she just needs an excuse to blame it all on you. If you get angry they will say you make a big deal out of a small mistake. They all saw it so there’s no way they don’t know it wasn’t an accident. There’s no point in proving or arguing.

“I see, maybe you should see a doctor about it it would be unfortunate if the lady gets sick. I will take my leave then I have to change my dress but I hope the ladies will enjoy the tea.” What you want to say is: – Eat shit all of you. You suppress a smirk as you take your leave it’s satisfying enough to see their angry faces since you dodged their attempts at bad-mouthing you. Many people witnessed the scene as you’re surrounded by noble ladies at each table – now they can’t spread false rumours as there are so many witnesses. If you got angry everyone would probably believe the twisted tales they told each other later but you managed to leave them with nothing.

This is pretty satisfying. Fufu.

Even if you’re drenched in tea Y/N is still pretty and eyes naturally follow you when you leave.

“Are you alright?” You’re surprised to meet Namjoon on your way back he holds up a handkerchief so you can clean your hands. You tried not to pay attention to him since earlier but you cannot ignore the fact that he’s been following you since this morning.

You didn’t think you could get away with rejecting the soon-to-be-blackened third male lead (as the second is your brother) but this is too much. What is Min Yoongi trying to do? Annoy you to death with his aid following you around unless you say yes or what?

“I’m not going to explain since you saw everything.” You narrow your eyes down on him but you accept the handkerchief nonetheless from his outstretched hands. Even as you start walking again he keeps following behind you.

“Do you want to say something Mr?” You stop abruptly if you have to listen to him anyway you will just listen to him now. You’re pretty tired from earlier you had to be on your best behaviour even though it was clear they were trying to provoke you.

“Ah, yes. I apologise but the Duke would like you to think about what happened last night and give him a positive answer.” You snort after hearing that – not too ladylike.

“You mean marry the duke?” Namjoon nods. “Ha, alright..” After a moment of followed silence,-“ I considered it again and I’m still saying no.” You turn around thinking that it was the end of it but Namjoon catches up with your steps in no time.

“Can I at least know the reason?” He asked timidly. Quite persistent, well he’s the only one who was with him till the end.

“Like I said I want love in a marriage. If the duke can’t love me then I can’t marry him.” This is good. If Namjoon tells him this he will probably give up now. You come up with such brilliant ideas today that you’re pleased with yourself. However – this was not the end.

Yoongi is riding a horse through the forest he already caught his prey so he’s not too interested in the scenery he’s already on his way back when his aid Namjoon appears.

“Did you tell her my message?” Namjoon bows in front of him as a greeting but looks nervous. He’s thinking about how could he tell the master that the lady rejected him again without a hint of hesitation in her voice. Reading his aid’s mind Yoongi’s brows furrow in distaste. She might be a lady with a significant house backing her but Yoongi thinks he’s not lacking anything as a husband candidate. He could give her money, real estate, jewellery, dresses everything she wanted so why did she reject him so confidently? The Duke of the North is getting a stack of marriage proposals daily that could fuel the fire in the fireplace all day long in his office so why did she reject him again?

“The lady told me to tell the duke she won’t marry you if you don’t love her. She wants a love marriage, not an arranged marriage.” Namjoon is carefully delivering her message to the duke who looks deep in thought after hearing that. Namjoon is also astonished by the fact that you don’t want to marry him. He has the wealth and authority which every woman is after. To think that she demeaned the duke to love her is insane.

He's afraid to see his master’s reaction. In all his years Yoongi never got interested in a woman before if anything it looked like he didn’t even see them. At Balls, he never danced no matter who asked or who tried to get close. The duke was never interested.

The duke didn’t answer but Namjoon thought that this was not the end of this. Yoongi seemed deep in his thoughts all the way back to the camp. The servants unloaded the bear he caught; a rare black bear that will probably ensure his win at the end of the hunting festival.

Back at his tent, he ordered a bunch of romance novels and while Namjoon found it a weird request he always did everything that his master ordered and then the research started.

He had once disinterested eyes but after your rejection he caught himself studying you whenever he could lay his eyes on you. His interest is rarely piqued but you keep showing him interesting things. The mystery of what you’re thinking in your head is driving him mad.

You softly hummed as you were getting ready for the award ceremony you’re in a good mood since you haven’t heard from Namjoon after that and when this is over you could go back to the mansion.

You only listened halfheartedly to the speech the king was giving as you already know who will become today’s winner. Or at least you thought so. In the original, the crown prince got first place with a deer but now everyone is celebrating Yoongi. He shines brightly his hair is perfectly styled and his dark uniform fits him perfectly he’s circled by nobles offering endless congratulations but he looks disinterested in them like always. He keeps looking over the faces when his eyes finally meet yours.

This is not how it was supposed to go. Whilst things deviated from the original little by little with your intervention this scene shouldn’t have changed. Yoongi didn’t have that many scenes within the novel as he usually showed disinterest in most things. You can’t imagine why he would win this competition when he hates bothersome things.

Oh. No, Why is he coming your way all of a sudden?

No one in the crowd expected him to stop right before you. No one actually believed he would accept the flower crown as Yoongi had never been involved with a woman before even if a lot of women desired him. But now he’s standing right in front of you handing you the flower crown. Your mouth would be hanging open by now if it hadn’t been for the large crowd that gathered around the two of you. Your father and brother who was standing next to you seem just as shocked as you are.

“What is the duke doing?” You try to push the crown away but Yoongi is relentless. If you won’t accept it gracefully he’s going to put it on your head with his own hands. This would be funny how he places the crown on you with a face that is devoid of any emotions.

“Are you going to reject me?” Hah! He knows well that you can’t. It’s tradition for the winner of the hunting competition to present the flower crown to the woman he wants to court or to a lover. With this Min Yoongi just announced to the world that he’s interested in you!

No matter what you say at this point the angry ladies whose eyes are stabbing you in the back with their intense gazes wouldn’t believe you in a million years that you’re not trying to covet their beloved duke. For a moment you wished you could be like him and read his thoughts for once.

You’re furious inside but you can’t show that. Even if you don’t like it you have to gracefully bow and accept his gift. Your eyes are a different story as you discreetly shoot arrows with your gaze. This means you have to attend the ball as his partner as well which is held on the last day. Originally you wouldn’t want to attend but now you’re obligated to.

Everyone’s attention was clearly on you and that made you sick.

You hurried away before anyone could ask you anything and you decided to rest at the family tent before you have to start getting ready for that bothersome ball. Who does he think he is? If you get entangled with the main leads no one can predict what will happen to you in the future. Normally you would be happy to be the centre of your favourite character’s attention but not when your life is on the line.

You can understand now when they say reading and experiencing something are two completely different things.

You’ve never thought that you would treat this way your favourite character to be honest you should be happy, even if he has an ulterior motive that is unknown to you for now, you’re the only woman he ever asked to marry and you actually thought about helping him somehow but the opportunity is too sudden. Also, what will you do if the story ends? If he lives and you live. You can’t live with him forever you know that this feeling and excitement and affection you have for him will fade away. You’ve always thought of him as a character you liked but he’s not in a book anymore; he’s right in front of your nose. There’s no way you can live in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life.

Can he even fall in love with you? Even at the last line he never looked at a woman. Maybe he falsely interpreted your words from before? Maybe he thought he had to show everyone he loves you like in a fake dating situation. Yes, if you talk to him he will definitely understand.

With a newfound determination, you left to look for him.

Namjoon doesn’t show outwardly that he’s surprised by your sudden visit but you could tell by the sudden hitch in his voice while greeting you.

“-Lady..” You ignore his greeting and go past him inside the inner tent. You’re perplexed for a moment when you see Yoongi’s shirtless back. He was in the middle of changing his clothes when you barged in but he doesn’t look fazed by it.

Namjoon hurriedly follows after you sweat is rolling down his temple as he apologises to his lord for letting you in. You’ve gone too far to back down now so you stand upright and cross your arms.

“Please, lady..” Namjoon struggles to try to get you out before his master unleashes his sword. He doesn’t like to be interrupted. You have no idea that Namjoon is fearing for your life but he actually admires you for your boldness not many can stand in front of his master without trembling in fear and you kept rejecting his marriage proposal. If anyone can be a match for his master it could be you.

“Go back I’ll handle it.” Yoongi dismisses Namjoon but he’s hesitant for a moment before he decides to leave the two of you alone. He has faith in his master that he won’t kill a noble.

During the flower crown ordeal you had so many things to say to him, curse him ask him why – so why is that you’re suddenly speechless in front of him? Yoongi drops the used shirt on the sofa. He can see anger in your eyes. He’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

He catches himself thinking that your reactions are quite amusing.

This is a first for him.

After you get over the initial shock of seeing his fit body you gather yourself to speak.

“Does the duke not care about my consent? The duke should know what it means to give out a flower crown. I don’t remember being the duke’s lover.” You’re fuming with both of your hands struggling in a fist.

Instead of replying the duke turned around and started looking for something on his messy desk. When he found it he approached you. Without realising you received it from him and when you looked at the book by the title alone you could tell it was a romance novel.

You can’t picture why the duke has that.

“You said you want love. I’m learning how to love you.” You’re rendered speechless by his words. He looks so serious that otherwise, you would think he’s joking. 

“Do you want to marry me that badly?” You ask in disbelief. This doesn’t make any sense.

“Yes.”

He didn’t even hesitate and your heart felt weird because of it.

“Why?”

You’re quite close. Probably as close to him as anyone was ever before. His face doesn’t show anything but you can’t just accept his words. “Why are you willing to go to such lengths to marry me?”

You look deeply into his eyes. Yoongi realises you’re not scared of him. This is also a first. Everyone who knows about his achievements fears him. He’s the Duke of the North, a war demon who never lost a single battle. His hands reach out to touch your face and as he expected you don’t flinch away if anything it looks like your eyes sparkle in the dim lights. He sees fire in them.

“I can’t tell you the reason unless you marry me.” Only family members can know about his powers, he can’t go against traditions. You’re smart and witty and that answer doesn’t satisfy you at all.

Shouldn’t you know everything before you marry someone? – Most of all the reason why they want to marry you.

“What is the duke thinking about? I can’t tell.” You sigh disappointed by his answer but you perk up when he replies.

“That’s what I want to know too.” At that moment his thumb runs over your lower lip feeling with his fingers how you take in a huge breath of fresh air. Your eyes go wide as if you come to a conclusion but before he could ask you about it Namjoon appears again making the two of you break up.

Suddenly conscious of the intimacy of your bodies you step back and Yoongi’s hand falls from your face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but the lady’s maid is here. The maid said that the lady should start getting ready.” Right. You forgot about the banquet. Knowing that you can’t delay any longer you decide to leave for now but it’s clear that the conversation is not over and Yoongi could feel it too.

“Alright. Please pick me up when I’m done preparing.” Yoongi nods and you leave just like that.

He looks down at the thumb that touched your lips he read this inside the book that could be good to seduce you but he needs more practice. Feeling up your lips was not unpleasant like he thought it would though. You keep surprising him and his chest is starting to feel weird whenever he sees you.

You need to stick to him during the ball this is your best strategy if you don’t want to be chewed out by hungry wolves. Now all of Yoongi’s fanclub is going for your throat so you need to be as close as possible to ward them off. Thinking about how everyone’s eyes will be on you tonight is giving you a headache.

The maid selected a beautiful deep purple dress for you to wear with the appropriate heels and accessories. Your hair is in an updo with some locks framing your face. In this period it takes too long to get ready but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Even if you go while looking pretty or not everyone will try to find fault in you. You can hear it in your head how they will whisper that you somehow bewitched the duke.

No one can be ready when you step into the ballroom while holding Yoongi’s arm your outfits ridiculously matching despite the short notice. Everyone is gossiping like you expected.

They don’t even try to be subtle about it.

The first to approach you is your father and brother and your fingers unconsciously tighten around the duke’s sleeve. The three men exchange pleasantries but your father doesn’t like beating around the bush for long before he asks what everyone is curious about.

“I had no idea the duke was interested in my daughter.” You virtually facepalm yourself when hearing that. That is like saying to my face that I’m no match for the duke. You were known to be notorious but this is getting ridiculous. He should be saying that the duke is not good enough for you!

“I fell in love with her at first sight.” Everyone is silently eavesdropping and it looks like their ears and mouths are reaching the floor by now. Your reaction is not too far behind as well. You were thinking: ‘Don’t tell me that he read this in one of his romance novels as well’.

Can you even avoid getting married to him at this point now? Unlikely as how everyone is so focused on your life at the moment. It feels like you become the century’s sensation with this.

“Haha. The duke is just joking.” You try to lighten the mood but you can’t really get Yoongi and your father out of that weird exchange of looks. If he wants them to believe this he should say it with some emotion damn it. You want to yell this into his face but you don’t of course.

“No, I intend on marrying the lady.” Now he has done it. But seeing your father’s shocked expression is funny. You don’t think there’s anyone in the ballroom who’s not left in shock after hearing that. Even a lady from the Duke’s fan club fainted hearing that.

After your father left many noble couples approached you inquiring about you two was the first thing everyone did but Yoongi didn’t say much regarding the matter besides what he told your father and you were not going to elaborate further so soon after the men talked about business and the wife asked you some general polite questions. Going around for so long soon your feet started to hurt and the dress felt uncomfortable to wear. All you wanted to do was go back to your room and get some rest.

“I’m not feeling too well so I think I’m going to leave.” As a last resort, you interrupt the men’s conversation to get Yoongi’s attention. You reached your limit and just thinking about what happened today makes you feel exhausted. After you got your nanny kicked out you thought that things would calm down for a while but it seems like you were mistaken.

Now you have to deal with an even bigger trouble and his name is Min Yoongi.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi scans your body looking for the cause of your unwellness which is surprising. You didn’t think he would ask about what’s wrong with you. You expected him to let you go with some curtesy words and while his face is as impassive as ever he is looking only at you.

Thinking about that makes a small shade of pink being introduced to your face. Maybe you have a fever. Yes. That’s probably it.

Reluctant to say it in front of the noble couple you reach for him to whisper into his ears so no one else could hear you. “My feet hurt my heels are uncomfortable to wear.” Thinking that it’s enough to explain why you want to leave you turn around to actually go when the duke holds you by the waist sliding one of his hands under your legs to pick you up. You almost let out an unladylike shriek but you manage to hold it in at the last minute. Your hands circle his neck to find stability.

“What are you doing?” Dropping the honorifics in your panic you whisper yell at him to let you down. This is so embarrassing.

 “I read it in a book if a lady tells you their feet hurt you need to carry them.” What kind of stupid book that is – you want to yell but you just lower your head so your eyes don’t meet with anyone as Yoongi carries you out.

Now you’re really not going to live this down. If some were skeptical now they are actually convinced that Yoongi is in love with you.

Can you even call this fake dating? He literally said he is going to make himself fall in love with you so you marry him!

You sit bonelessly on the sofa in Yoongi’s tent. He’s actually going to treat the wound on your feet as you try to grasp the situation. You feel exhausted now that you got to sit down.

If you think this through there’s no way you can claim it now that you have nothing to do with him. It might be your best bet to marry him. From your conversation earlier you keep thinking about what he said about wanting to know what you’re thinking. His sudden interest in you probably has something to do with his mind-reading powers. Could this be that he can’t read your thoughts? That could be possible.

He wouldn’t have asked otherwise so strangely and you keep thinking about being possessed in a novel and refer to him as your favourite character there’s no way he wouldn’t ask about it if he knew. Maybe…

Maybe he can’t read your thoughts because you’re not originally from this world?  – Y/N’s family’s power is to block powers so that could be a good explanation as well. You can’t really ask for confirmation since you’re not supposed to know that he can read minds.

You don’t realise you kept staring at him while you were deep in your thoughts. You wince when he puts the ointment on your wound roughly your hand goes to hold his wrist to stop him.

“Be gentle it hurts.” You look at him with a frown but he actually listens as he becomes more careful with his touches. His hand is full of callouses and cuts probably from wielding his sword. Now that you remember it he was called a war monster in the novel. Most times when he was mentioned he was looped in with his war achievements or his lack of interest in women. It’s interesting to know these little things that his desk is messy and that he’s not as scary as everyone makes him out to be. He can be quite gentle.

“Thank you.” This time you’re sincere.

This is the calmest tone you’ve ever spoken to him now that you’ve realised. You tried to keep your distance as much as you could you were quite rude to him until now. You’re not going to apologise though your anger was justified he did get you into this mess without your consent.

The silence that fills the space is not uncomfortable for some reason.

“It’s just a small cut you will be fine.” His tone is like usual but his actions cannot be told to be.

“W-What are you doing?” His lips are touching your feet. A small warm kiss is planted on your foot as if he’s wishing for your pain to subside. The duke is a rational man – this is probably another scene from that damn novel but why is your heart beating so loudly in your ears? After kissing it his eyes directly meet yours as if he’s searching for something in the depths.

“Did your pain go away? I want to know if the book had the facts right. It doesn’t seem medically accurate.” You’re too dumbfounded to reply but after regaining your senses you pull your feet away and the duke finally gets up from his kneeling position.

“This is not about the pain! It’s to make the girl’s heart flutter!” You avoid his gaze looking to the right after your sudden exclamation. You can’t believe you really have to explain this to him.

“Then did your heart flutter?” This is a dangerous thought – but maybe – just maybe his little head tilt looked a little cute. What should you do? Lie? Tell the truth?

“Everyone would be flustered in that kind of situation.” You try to rationalise what you’re feeling right now is not attraction. It’s going to fade away – he’s just a character you liked in a book. No need to get worked up.

“So – are you going to ask me again or not?” Trying to hide your embarrassment you get to the point. You decided not to run away from him – at least for now. You can come up with a plan later and if it doesn’t work out then divorce is still a thing in this period too.

“Will you marry me now?” He looks surprised. While it’s hard to read his expression you can disamble some of his emotions if you look for it hard enough. After all, he’s not that mysterious Duke of the North – but you don’t think the readers would be disappointed finding this out.

He’s still charming.

“Alright. Let’s get married.”

You said that but you still have some concerns. The novel’s development is truly out of hand this time. It’s also concerning that you haven’t seen the main protagonists yet. Taehyung is absent from the hunting competition but the main couple should meet during the imperial ball.

However – everyone only talks about your marriage with the duke. You were not sure if it was safe to marry the duke but to be honest, this could work in your favour. Now you can’t be the villainess who falls in love with Taehyung at first sight since you will be a married woman. If you don’t interfere they will have no reason to execute you and your favourite character won’t kill you because for some reason he needs you alive – so this is not so bad. Your reputation is slowly but rising among the aristocrats who witnessed your behaviour as you haven’t caused much trouble. If you exclude the scandal with Min Yoongi but it wasn’t even your fault.

Your father didn’t say a word when you said you were going to ride with Yoongi back to the capital. Your brother was a different story – he did try to object but failed as your father dismissed him. You don’t delude yourself that things will be that easy. Whilst your father didn’t object outwardly now because of the public eye it doesn’t mean he can’t reject the proposal when it’s inside the mansion. Wouldn’t be so bad to get out of that house either as you have mostly bad memories from that place.

The duke delayed his trip back to the north until your marriage is settled so now you’re on your way to the capital. Even if you don’t hold a big wedding both families have to agree to the marriage and then give the marriage application to the royal palace for registration only then it could be a legal marriage. It will take some time until everything is sorted out but that’s fine since you need to meet with Jungkook. You need to tell him the news but he probably knows about it by now. Still, you can’t rest until the house of Summer is taken down or someone else takes over his place preferably a better duke than him because a war would not help you survive here either.

“Will you tell me now why we have to be married?” The journey back to the capital will be quite long you decide to get some information out of him if you have to share the carriage with him anyway. The swaying of the carriage makes you uneasy so it’s better to focus on something else.

“We’re not married yet.” No shit Sherlock. You hold back the reflex to roll your eyes. He would look at you like a crazy woman if he could read your thoughts so you’re almost 100% sure this is the reason he wants to marry you.

“If you tell me doesn’t that mean I cannot take back my word since I would know your secret, Duke Min?” Your persuasion might work at least he’s thinking about telling you now.

It’s silent inside there’s no other sound than the carriage rattling on the road and when you’re about to give up trying to persuade him to tell you the atmosphere around the duke changes.

He’s always serious but he looks even more so now.

“Our family’s power is to read the human mind.” You take some fake time to process this – you can’t give him the suspicion that you already know about his powers. So you keep quiet and appear to be thinking before you speak up. Now – this is something to start with:

“So—you read minds. What does that have to do with me? Perhaps, you can’t read my thoughts?” It doesn’t seem like he suspects you he probably thinks you have good intuition. Hopefully.

“I can’t. But that’s not all.” Now you’re actually curious. You stay in your seat anticipating his answer when he instead touches your cheek again. This is not the time to recite some romance novel bullshit. “If I touch you like this I can’t read anyone's thoughts.”

This is crazy. Not just you – but no one. Do you really have some kind of power that you’re unaware of? Even if your family’s power is to deflect other powers that wouldn’t answer why touching you blocks out everything. In theory, it should only work on you.

“You really can’t hear anything?” You’re a bit excited this is new. You carelessly grab his hand that’s holding your cheek startling Yoongi in the process. Thanks to the bumpy road you lose your balance and land right on your companion’s lap. He grabbed you without thinking holding you by the waist both of your legs hanging off to the side your face excruciatingly close to his.

“Sorry, I lost my footing.” You try to get up but the road is really not letting you off the hook. If anything Yoongi has to pull you closer to not fall over with you in tow.

“Were your eyes always this pretty?” One hand goes to put some hair behind your ears. W-What is he saying now? You’re confused for only a moment before you realise. Romance novel.

After this trip is over you really want to know what kind of trashy romance novel he was reading as a reference and you would appreciate it if he did not try all of it out on you in such unexpected situations.

“I can’t believe the duke really said that with a straight face. If you want my heart to flutter you have to do better than that.” You were half joking and half serious but he doesn’t have to know that.

“Like what?” You didn’t expect him to ask but he found you in a playful mood. Since he wants to become your lover you’re going to prank him. After that, he will think twice before reciting such cheesy lines.

“A kiss probably.” You try to smile seductively with just the corners of your lips tilting upwards but that smile soon remains frozen on your face as warm chapped lips meet with yours.

It’s a kiss. The duke is actually kissing you.

It’s awkward your lips are touching but there’s nothing else. To think the duke doesn’t know how to kiss is funny.

You’re the first to pull back as you can’t keep back your laughter anymore. “I guess there’s one thing the duke is not good at.”

His face is as serious as ever but if you look closely he kinda looks offended by your statement. His hand tightens around you it looks like he has a competitive side to him as well. You keep learning new things about the duke.

It’s probably an impulse to prove you wrong but he pulls you back by holding the back of your head in place. It’s not just a peck now it’s transforming into a real kiss as he moves his lips over yours. It’s clumsy but somewhat charming. His tongue comes out unexpectedly but you’re not gonna stop now – you open your mouth to welcome his tongue and intertwine it with yours. It’s messy but it does make your heart flutter.

His breath on your face, his fingers in your hair you’re hyperaware of every little body part that touches his.

Before you get entirely lost in the sensation you pull back, stopping the kiss before it could devour you. You’re not the only one breathing hard the duke is panting as well. His hand is still around your head and his touch is especially gentle.

This weirdly romantic moment is interrupted by the trusted aid Namjoon yet again. It seems like he comes always at the worst moments.

The ride back home felt a lot shorter with Yoongi than when you were on your way to the hunting festival with your family. You feel shy. You get off Yoongi’s lap before the carriage door opens and someone sees you in a compromising position. The nation is shocked enough as it is.

“Maybe my heart did flutter a bit.” The words are quietly uttered but you’re sure the wind carried it away enough for the duke to hear it however, before he could register the hidden meaning behind your words then the carriage door opens and you accept Namjoon’s hand to get off first.

You’re too shy to watch his reaction or afraid to find the lack of it. Only Namjoon can see the rare sigh of his master looking somewhat flushed but he dismisses it, after all, the weather is quite hot here in the capital. He could be just feeling hot due to the long journey. The clothes they bought are not suitable for this warm weather but neither of them complained as this will be a mere visit so there’s no need to buy new clothes that would never be worn again after leaving for the north again.

The schedule suffered a setback as the duke suddenly proposed marriage and until everything was settled the departure was delayed. Yoongi offers you his arm to hold onto and you after a moment of thinking intertwine your arms going in the direction of your father’s office. You spotted the family carriage so they arrived by the time you got off. It’s not farfetched to think they expected your visit as both your father and brother seem to be waiting for the two of you. They are not visibly displeased but deep in their thoughts.

Your brother’s eyes automatically go to your joined hands wearing an uncomfortable expression. Of course, they wouldn’t want to let you go so soon. A part of you like to think selfishly and blame them. A thought enters your mind: they probably want to keep you here since you started to be useful lately. On the other hand, your calmer mind thinks more about the truth that they feel ashamed of their behaviour. If you leave them so early there’s no way they could amend their wrongdoings. Your brother feels guilty after everything that happened and there’s a hint of overprotectiveness in him as well as your brother. Even if you know all this you have no reason to provide them with forgiveness. A person needs to take responsibility for their actions.

You were not planning to leave this early but you decided to accept his proposal now that you know his secret they wouldn’t let you live if you suddenly tried to escape or go back on your word.

Even if you decided not too long ago to go through with it you’re shaking with nerves. You tried to make yourself feel better that you could divorce him once everything is over but now knowing the truth there’s no way you could cut ties so easily. While worrying won’t solve anything you’re still anxious. This is the best you can do for now since being his wife and him needing you means that he won’t kill you even if someone orders it. The plot has already changed but there’s no guarantee that the story won’t try to change back to its original.

Whilst your father looked reluctant to agree to this marriage he didn’t try to stop you surprisingly. He asked you if that’s what you want and when you answered with a yes he relented.

Your brother was a different matter – he kept glaring at Yoongi throughout the entire ordeal. Fortunately, Yoongi did not pay much attention to his animosity as they politely spoke about the preparations that needed to be done. There won’t be a big wedding that you are thankful for. You’re already the talk of the town there’s no need for more publicity.

In the last couple of days, everything seems to settle one by one quietly. The palace agreed to the marriage without objections however they set a condition which you were not expecting. The king wants to throw a ball before you head over to the north in honour of your marriage but you feel like there’s an ulterior motive behind this. Even if you suspect it you have no room to refuse the king so you and Yoongi agree to attend.

Leaving the house undetected in the meantime becomes quite challenging as the wedding preparations were reduced to be completed in two weeks you were moving in a tight schedule, dress fitting, and writing all the invitations you did not have much time on your hands to sleep not to tell about you private matters that you wanted to take care of before you permanently head to the north. The house staff also seemed busy with the preparations. A room was prepared for Yoongi and his men to stay in the house you couldn’t just let your future husband sleep in an inn whether your family liked him staying or not, there are enough rumours surrounding the two of you as is.

The preparations were not the only obstacle standing in your way sneaking out but the duke decided to follow you almost everywhere. While writing the invitations he used your office as his attending to his paperwork constantly being near you even if you were doing other things in the same room and when you asked why he had to work in your room he just answered with:

“Spending time together is a sign of affection.” He looks up from his stack of papers. That damn romance novel again.

“Have you heard of the line that ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ you should try it sometime.” You shake your head, murmuring it under your nose that he’s unable to hear you but when he looks at you questioningly you decide not to dare and repeat it.

One of these days you were feeling tempted to find that book and burn it so he cannot use it again as a reference. But you have to think about this, in worst case scenario he finds an even more romance infused book with ridiculous lines and plots to recreate. It’s not like you could learn romance through a book but you need to give credit where it’s due as he puts real effort into it at least. Looking at his unique circumstances as a child and as an adult you could see why he would want to learn romance from a book in a practical way. He was never showered with parental love and he had no means of growing fond of people too as he could hear their thoughts. He had no reason to. The means are clumsy but he’s trying hard to fall in love with you and making you fall for him as he put it. You never had a boyfriend who took dating this seriously before. It’s not that everything he does annoy you. You started to grow fond of the romancing lines that he recited with an indifferent face.

He's always honest which makes him a bit unapproachable at first but after spending time with him his honesty while it’s blunt he’s not saying anything out of malice. He’s just too sincere. It’s refreshing as you don’t have to look for underlying meaning. If you ask him something he answers without hesitation it’s good since you don’t have any misunderstandings. When you asked why he wanted you to fall in love with him he simply answered that ‘it means you won’t leave me’. You were so surprised that you started laughing his honesty was so absurd. It was kind of cute.

It took a considerable amount of time and scheming for you to finally be able to meet with the information guild in secret. Jungkook expected you to come by one of these days so he was not too surprised to see you. It felt like greeting an old friend he even teased you about suddenly getting married while having some good tea as company. Now that you both earned each other’s thrust you told him everything he needs to be wary of while operating secretly. Your purpose is to stop the war from happening and you need help to bring down the Duke of Summer but you need to be extra careful with your steps not to seem suspicious. You part ways with a wedding gift as Jungkook called it in your pockets. It’s a communication sphere that you could easily carry with you. It was a short meeting but you couldn’t help it as you had to go back to the wedding preparations.

You’re getting the jitters as you lay on your bed. Tomorrow is the d-day. You’re actually thankful for your brother for once. His purpose was probably just to separate you but that meant you had all day to yourself to get your thoughts in order before the grand wedding without Yoongi looming over your shoulders. It seemed at the last minute you had different opinions on small weddings as you had to send out tons of invitations. The maids made sure everything was perfect for the big day – this is the busiest and most carefree atmosphere this place ever got. It would have been a lot easier if you didn’t need to walk on eggshells all this time. Dodging the servant's rude comments and their ignorant behaviour they all changed when the masters started to change.

You’re only sorrowful that the real Y/N couldn’t experience this. The misunderstanding has been cleared but she’s nowhere to be found. Will she ever come back or you’re stuck as her forever? Time can only tell how things will work out in the end. But one thing is certain you’re not going to give up and you will live through this ending.

Yoongi is even more handsome when formally dressed he doesn’t look nervous unlike you. You join hands at the altar and the priest tells you your wows. The exchange ends like a blur with a light kiss on your lips. The rings on your fingers glisten in the bright light.

You’re pronounced as husband and wife. You’ve married your favourite character. This is crazy but this man in front of you is now your husband. You bit all ten of your nails by the time you’re done preparing for the wedding night. You were bathed very throughoutly and put in a nice nightgown that you haven’t seen before in your life.

Yoongi is already sitting at the edge of the bed when you enter the bedroom and he looks relaxed after his bath.

You later learn that he’s only relaxed because he has no idea what you should be doing on a wedding night.

You were aware of his unfortunate childhood and that the previous duchess and duke were not on the best terms with each other if you could call people who never met each other after getting married even ‘be in a relationship’ and now you’re convinced that their wedding night might have been the start of their miserable life.

Once the head of house Min gets engaged they get a script of how to produce an heir Yoongi explained but seeing the document yourself you feel sorry for the previous duchesses’ they had to endure a loveless marriage and probably a painful first time where their opinions were not even considered.

Sticking it in is not how a married couple should have sex. You don’t know who wrote this but this person clearly never had good sex. It’s weird to hold this piece of paper in your hand but since your marriage with Yoongi is not an ordinary one you learned that he got this paper this morning urgently to read before the ceremony. Even Namjoon were unaware of the contents as he was only the messenger. Arranged marriage is how house Min kept their bloodline going by getting sold daughters living miserable lives. You don’t want to be one of them. Thankfully you have an advantage that the previous duchess did not have; a power that could contain their madness.

You’re sure Yoongi will never try to hurt you if he wants you to be with him and provide him with blissful silence.

“If you try to do what this text says I’ll definitely never forgive you.” You toss the paper to the side after tearing it apart.

Yoongi’s in luck since he married a modern woman. You know enough about sex for the both of you to get a pleasant experience and you don’t think topping it would be much of a feat after reading what the previous heads were doing to their woman. No wonder without knowing or receiving love it would be hard to know about these things. The wives were too consumed by hate because of everything that had happened to them and the dukes had no idea how to love their wives at the brink of their madness. That is truly tragic.

You don’t believe however that Yoongi is not capable of feelings.

Even after spending this short time with him, you could see his character changing and you’re not only speaking about his determination to learn romance through those trashy romance novels. He actually listens, laughs and feels jealous. He used to be pretending to get close to you but you don’t think he did that kiss just to play out a scene. He does things impulsively too.

Initially, his interest was the only thing that fueled him to get closer and keep you by any means.

“What am I supposed to do then?”

This is crazy. Are you really allowed to corrupt your favourite character? Duh, you’re his wife now. The little you in your head reminds you. Y/N is you now even if you tried to deny it so many times this is your reality. You need to stop thinking that the life you’re living is someone else’s and you need to forget that these are characters in a novel.

You’re living in this novel now and this is your reality.

“You should kiss me.” A switch just flipped inside your brain. Just like in the carriage, you straddle Yoongi and his hands grip you through the small gown you wear that doesn’t conceal anything. It’s so thin he could feel your warmth. Yoongi sees your overall aura change, you suddenly look possessed. It stirs something in him seeing you riled up.

The consequences be damned you’re going to enjoy your wedding night with your favourite character.

– The war, the family struggle, the main characters that you haven’t met yet all of that can wait one more night at least. –

Yoongi kisses your lips gripping your bare thighs always listening so well. His tongue messily enters between your lips and you follow along with his rhythm the lack of his experience makes your job easier to dominate the kiss. Push and pull until both of you pant like dogs into each other’s open mouths. The blood from his head rushes to his lower regions. Unaware that he’s getting very aroused by your actions but you could feel the outline of his cock through your thin clothes. He might not know what to call what you do to him but he surely knows how that makes him feel.

That piece of paper definitely didn’t prepare him for you.

Your lips on his neck and your wandering hands are overwhelming him but he doesn’t dare to push you away, no, it feels too good to do that. You not only give him peace of mind without knowing what everyone thinks around him but show him new sensations and make him feel in a certain way. Feel loved. Even the slight pain that he feels as you mark him up is a pleasurable experience for him. Only after you get rid of his clothes that he sees his own cock fully hard. Your hand and mouth are already around it.

Sounds keep escaping his lips embarrassing whines and moans as your hot lips curve around his cock.

It’s warm wet and tight inside that Yoongi’s back arches off the bed shooting his load soon into your awaiting mouth seeing the signs of his orgasm. He cums embarrassingly fast. He doesn’t know what to do to contain this fire licking its way up inside his veins he follows your directions kissing you all over mimicking you hoping that it will feel good for you too, flipping you over as he hovers over your body kissing every inch of your skin making you moan as your fingers card through his messy hair. You hold his face close to your chest his lips kissing over your breasts and nipples. He reaches your pussy with your guidance his tongue first darts out to get a taste. Yoongi can feel his heart beat like crazy you’re wet and glistening for him. He keeps licking and flicking the tip of his tongue over your puffy bud loving how you say his name when he does something you especially like.

His lips are coated in your essence love how messy he gets with his licks. No matter what he does you keep shaking under him sighing his name. Your husband keeps your legs apart deflowering you sinfully with his tongue insistently rolling over and over your sensitive clit until you cum with a cry of his name. You pull him up for a heated kiss catching your breath but your hand impatiently aligns his cock with your wet opening.

Attempting to describe the feeling of how your warm walls hug him is futile but you can guess how good it feels for him when you see his eyes tightly shut and his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. His hips move on their own after you show him the way the initial discomfort after being stretched soon ebbed into a dull ache replaced with pleasure after some perfectly angled thrust on his part. He gets cockier and more confident with his movements as you moan louder when he finds a good spot he’s getting addicted to the feeling when you tighten around him.

He could do this all night with you. With your legs tightly wrapped around his torso or your leg on his shoulder hitting deeper in every position and angle your pussy feels tighter and wetter that he feels his orgasm build rapidly again. He keeps pushing inside you and pulling back until just the tip remains not caring if the bed shakes under you the wet squelch that your sexes make and the creaking of the bed is the song that you listen to all night long.

You lost count of how many times he finishes inside of you his cum dripping down your thighs when his passion finally subsides. The aftermath hits you hard feeling sore all over but utterly satisfied.

After sharing this heated night with your favourite you feel like you could accomplish anything in this life.

Novel. Or real life.

Yoongi got to experience many firsts with you. For the first time in his life, he desperately wants to cling to someone. Be loved and love in return. He welcomes your lazy kisses with his arms strongly holding you to his body. “If I can love, I promise to only love you.”

There’s nothing more you could ask for. Your smile reaches ear to ear and whilst Yoongi needs to learn a lot of things you’re ready to tackle this life with him and hopefully reach your happy ending.

[blueskrugs]

I Love You (It's Ruining My Life) | Nick Blankenburg

this is a christmas fic. in july. for demi @wyattjohnston's birthday. which was in june. does the earliness of one make up for the lateness of the other? uh. happy birthday/happy holidays, I guess? fear of commitment / secret admirer / stranded / high school sweethearts / exes to lovers length: 6.4k words

Nick Blankenburg is the boy Olivia will never get over. 

There’s a framed photo in her mother’s living room from seven years ago of Nick and Olivia at senior prom. Nick’s tie and boutonniere matched Olivia’s red Sherri Hill dress and corsage. In her heels, she was a couple of inches taller than him. Olivia sees it, sees them nestled in between the rest of their family photos, every time she’s home. She loved that photo; Nick is smiling softly at her, hand on her hip as she laughs at something one of her friends was doing off-camera. There’s a blooper of that photo, of Nick making faces to keep Olivia laughing, because “her smile is better that way.” That was her phone lock screen for months after that day. 

Sometimes she wishes she could hide that picture frame now, or throw it into the fireplace and watch it burn.

But that would be dramatic. 

Dramatic like Nick breaking up with her two months after high school graduation, saying he needed time to “figure some things out.” Dramatic like Nick hardly talking to her for weeks before he dumped her, after they’d been dating for three years. 

Olivia had cried for weeks. Nick had been her first boyfriend, her first love. Washington was a small town, and almost everyone Olivia knew had married their high school sweetheart and settled down. She’d thought that would be her and Nick, too, until Nick decided to set his sights on bigger things. 

Olivia pretended to get over it and moved to Ann Arbor in the fall. Nick seemed like he was always over it, and he moved to Detroit to join Victory Honda. 

Olivia threw everything she had into school. She joined a sorority, joined clubs, started coaching a local girls’ soccer team. She was doing well.

By the time she was in her third year and one of her sorority sisters was telling her about the cute overage freshman named Nick who had joined the Michigan hockey team, Olivia is doing her best impersonation of a girl who finally got over her high school boyfriend.

It doesn’t stop her from dropping her phone on her face when her friend Paige leans over from her perch on the end of Olivia’s bed to show her the newest member of the hockey team. Nick Blankenburg’s smiling face stares back at Olivia from Paige’s phone screen.

“It says he’s from Washington, d’you know him?” Paige asks, oblivious. She’s already resumed scrolling.

“Yeah, uh,” Olivia says. “I think we went to high school together.”

“Oh, cool,” Paige says, continuing her blithe scrolling again. 

Olivia thinks that’s the end of it. Hopes it’s the end of it. She doesn’t frequent hockey games these days, and since Nick spent two years in juniors instead of heading straight to Michigan, it’s unlikely they’ll be crossing paths on campus any time soon. 

Then the football game against Ohio State rolls around. Olivia’s boyfriend Austin had traveled from Ohio to Michigan for Thanksgiving with Olivia’s family, and he stuck around through the weekend to go to the game at The Big House. Austin sticks out like a sore thumb, decked in all red, in a sea of maize and blue, but he good naturedly kisses Olivia at kickoff, ignoring the jeers of the crowd around them. 

Michigan loses. It’s a bit of a blowout. 

Someone from the next section over shouts something at Austin. He turns to shout back, tightening his arm around Olivia’s waist as they try to make their way out of the stadium with the rest of the crowd. Olivia’s not sure who starts it, but someone starts shoving. Olivia gets caught in the middle of it, jostled to the side as a fight starts. There’s more yelling. Someone pushes Olivia from behind, then from the side, and she falls. 

Or, starts to fall, until someone catches her. It’s oddly reminiscent of the time Olivia met Austin, at another Ohio State versus Michigan football game her freshman year, and someone had bumped into him, causing him to spill a soda on Olivia. 

She looks up into the face of the hands that caught her. “Nick?” she blurts. Nick’s grip on her elbows gets tighter, before he realizes he’s squeezing and lets go. He helps Olivia to her feet again. The crush of the crowd shoves them together, and Nick’s hands slide to Olivia’s hips to steady her. She’s still staring at him in awe, as if she’s never seen him before. 

Nick still hasn’t said anything. Through the crowd, someone takes Olivia’s hand. Austin. She turns to find him, following as he tugs her away from Nick. 

“Who was that?” Austin asks, leaning in close to speak in Olivia’s ear. Olivia cranes her neck around, but Nick’s lost to the crowd again. 

“No one,” Olivia says. “It was no one.” She’s not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or Austin. 

It seems impossible to continue to avoid Nick around Ann Arbor after that. Michigan’s campus has never felt so small. She sees him in the library, studying intently with his headphones on. She sees him walking across campus, always with a few other rowdy hockey players. She sees him waiting in line for coffee at Sweetwaters in the student union. Nick tries to talk to her, once. 

They were crossing paths on campus, and Nick reached out a hand. He was alone, for once.

“Liv, hey,” he’d started. Olivia takes a second to look at him properly for the first time. He’s grown up a little since they left high school, but he still looks like the same sweet Nick she used to know. She pulls her arm away from him.

“I’m late for a class, sorry,” she said. She was heading in the opposite direction of the Education building, and she thought Nick might know that. She walked away before Nick could get another word in. He never tried to talk to her again after that. They share smiles every once in a while; Olivia’s always feel fake.

The years pass. Olivia graduates, gets a job as a fourth grade teacher in Detroit. Austin moves in with her. She finally stops thinking about Nick.

When Nick signs with the Columbus Blue Jackets, Paige takes the liberty of forwarding every single Instagram post about him to Olivia. Olivia FaceTimes Paige just so she can flip her off. Paige spends the next year and a half making it her personal responsibility to keep Olivia updated on her ex-boyfriend—every injury, every goal, every time he’s sent back down to the AHL. 

Olivia tries not to pay any attention to it. Keyword: tries. 

Austin and Olivia drive back down to Ohio a few days before Christmas to visit his family in Columbus. Olivia very carefully doesn’t mention that Nick had been called up a few weeks back the entire drive. It had caused a fight, once, when she mindlessly dropped into a conversation about the Blue Jackets that she knew Nick. She’s never talked about him around Austin again. 

Later that night, when Olivia is standing on the curb outside of Austin’s parents’, her bag by her feet, tears drying on her cheeks in the freezing air, she’s briefly grateful for Paige’s incessant updates on Nick. At least she knows that the only person she knows in this awful city isn’t actually two hours away in Cleveland. She pulls out her phone with shaky hands. 

God, she hopes Nick hasn’t changed his phone number. 

The phone rings for so long that Olivia thinks Nick won’t answer. She swears under her breath and starts to pull her phone away from her ear to call an Uber instead when she hears a muffled, “Hello?” on the other end of the line. It sounds like she woke him. 

“Nick?” Olivia asks. A car drives by, kicking up dirty slush, and Olivia flinches. There’s a moment of silence. “You know what, never mind, I’ll just—” Olivia goes to hang up the phone again, but Nick cuts her off.

“Liv? Hang on, what’s wrong?” There’s shuffling on Nick’s end of the call. He sounds wide awake now. “Where are you, are you in trouble?”

“Can you come pick me up?” Olivia whispers. 

“Text me your address, I’ll be right there.” Nick hangs up.

Olivia’s numb by the time a car pulls up to the curb in front of her. A familiar figure jumps out of the driver’s seat and runs around the front of the car to pull Olivia into a tight hug. Olivia lets herself hug Nick back for a brief second, before he’s pulling away again and reaching for her suitcase.

“Liv, it’s freezing, what the hell are you doing standing out here?” he asks. He ushers her to the passenger seat and throws her suitcase in the back of the car. The heat’s blasting, and Olivia thinks Nick turned on the seat warmer for her. Her teeth are chattering. 

Nick pulls away from the curb. Olivia settles back and lets the suburbs of Columbus turn into a blur outside the windows. Nick allows her to wallow in silence for a few minutes before he turns to Olivia at a red light.

“You didn’t tell me what happened, or why you needed me to pick you up in the middle of the night from the fucking Columbus suburbs,” Nick says. He doesn’t sound angry, just worried. Washed in the red glow of the stoplight, Olivia can see the way his eyebrows crease. 

“Never gave me a chance,” Olivia manages. Nick shoots her an unimpressed look, but the light turns green again, saving Olivia from Nick’s gaze. 

Nick’s CarPlay is softly playing Taylor Swift on shuffle. Olivia lets it cycle through a few songs before she speaks again.

“Austin and I broke up,” Olivia says. 

Nick, to his credit, doesn’t ask who Austin is. Olivia’s pretty sure he never unfollowed her on Instagram. He’s probably seen all of her sappy posts from the last six years. 

Nick just clicks his tongue and says, “Sorry, Liv, that’s shitty.”

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the drive to Nick’s apartment. Olivia gawks out the window as they approach what is, apparently, Nick’s building.

“What?” Nick asks, pulling carefully into a spot in the parking garage.

“Nick, this is bougie as hell.” Olivia has never felt so far from Washington, Michigan in her life.

Nick shrugs as he puts his car in park and climbs out. He pulls Olivia’s suitcase out before opening her door for her. “It’s not that fancy.”

Olivia smacks him on the chest. She’s struck, suddenly, at how solid Nick’s become now that they’ve grown up. Now that they don’t know each other. The reminder of how different they are, how far they’ve come since high school, shocks Olivia into silence as she follows Nick up the elevator and to his apartment door.

He shoots her another worried look over his shoulder as he unlocks the door. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are you still cold?” He pulls Olivia by the wrist across the threshold and over to his couch. He turns on the gas fireplace, which Olivia raises her eyebrows at.

“Not that fancy,” she murmurs. Nick’s still bustling around, turning his heat up, disappearing into his bedroom and re-emerging with an armful of blankets, dressed in sweats and a ratty Michigan T-shirt. He throws a blanket at Olivia’s face. She rips it off, sputtering, before she realizes what it is. “You still have this?” she asks, incredulous.

The blanket in question is a T-shirt blanket, emblazoned all over with Romeo High School—dozens of Nick’s high school T-shirts, cut up and quilted together by Olivia’s mom after they had graduated. Olivia has a matching one, laid across the foot of her bed back in Detroit. 

Nick looks sheepish for the first time since he picked up Olivia. “My mom, uh, helped me move in here, and she wanted to make sure I was never cold, I guess.”

The blanket looks worn, like it’s been used and washed dozens of times since they were eighteen. Olivia doesn’t call Nick out on it. 

Nick settles on his couch next to Olivia. “I’m, uh, driving home first thing in the morning if you want to come with,” he says awkwardly.

Olivia chuckles wryly. “Not like I’ve got anywhere else to go,” she says. Her mother is going to be so shocked when Olivia shows up on the doorstep in the morning. Olivia was supposed to come back from Ohio with a ring on her finger, not lugging back a broken heart. 

“Oh. Right,” Nick says. They lapse into stiff silence, until Nick yawns.

“You don’t have to stay up on my behalf,” Olivia says.

Nick looks over at her. “Nah, I’m fine.” 

He pulls out his phone, so Olivia does the same, content to scroll in silence for a while. Until Nick starts laughing quietly at something on his phone. Olivia stretches out and pokes him in the thigh with her toes.

“What’s so funny?”

Nick locks his phone sheepishly. “Nothing.” When Olivia raises her eyebrows at him, he relents. “Kent keeps sending me these tweets about me, they’re kinda funny, I guess.” 

Olivia feels her heart skip a beat, but she tries to mask it. She nudges Nick with her foot again. “Tweets about you? I need to see these.”

Nick blushes and tries to hold his phone farther out of Olivia’s reach. Her eyes narrow. That’s as good as a challenge, in her mind. Before she can think better of it, Olivia lunges across the couch for Nick’s phone. Nick jerks back, laughing, but Olivia manages to grab ahold of his wrist. 

“Liv,” Nick says, but then they’re wrestling for the phone. Nick’s still laughing. Olivia’s struck, again, at how much bigger Nick is than when they were still in high school. In the scuffle, Olivia ends up halfway in Nick’s lap, but she’s also successfully clutching Nick’s phone in her hand.

Olivia says a quick prayer that Nick is too sentimental to change his phone passcode. (It’s his mom’s birthday.) Nick half-heartedly swipes at the phone as it clicks unlocked.

God bless Karin Blankenburg. 

“Liv, c’mon, you don’t—” 

Olivia isn’t sure what the next words out of Nick’s mouth are going to be, because she cuts him off by bursting into laughter. She’s swiping quickly through the photo gallery in Nick’s message thread with Kent Johnson. Tweet screenshot, tweet screenshot, random golf photo, another tweet screenshot. They’re mostly innocuous, or vaguely thirsty, or rants about how Nick is underrated by the Blue Jackets organization and how he should get more playing time.

“Liv, what’s so funny?” Nick complains. He sounds put-out, and Olivia glances up from his phone to look at his face. He’s blushing again.

“Nick, like half of these tweets are mine.” From an anonymous Twitter account no one in her life knows about. Nick gapes at her. “I thought I had it locked down, but I guess some have slipped through.” She should check to make sure that account is still private, actually. Nick gapes at her. “What?” Olivia asks. Satisfied, she locks Nick’s phone and hands it back. 

 “I didn’t know you still paid any attention to me,” Nick says. Olivia hasn’t moved from her position in Nick’s lap. 

“A lot of it has been against my will,” Olivia admits. A lot of her tweets were posted under the influence, as well. Nick raises an eyebrow in question. “My friend, Paige, has made it her personal mission to give me a play-by-play of your entire career. Guess I was more invested than I thought.” 

Nick’s gaping at Olivia again. She wishes he wouldn’t look at her like that. She shifts uncomfortably back to her end of the couch.

Nick doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I use your shower?” Olivia asks, trying desperately to break the awkward silence she has created. “I’m still a little cold.” In truth, she’s warmed up a bit, but she doesn’t think she could bear to sit in the same room as Nick for another moment. 

Nick seems to shake himself. “Oh, yeah, of course.” He points towards his bedroom. “The, uh, bathroom’s through there. There should be a couple extra clean towels and stuff in the closet. Use whatever.”

As Olivia stands to root through her luggage for a change of clothes and her toiletry bag, Nick does the same but slips into the kitchen. Olivia feels a tightness in her chest she didn’t realize was there ease. She sighs. 

When Olivia emerges from the shower twenty minutes later, smelling of Nick’s soap and only feeling marginally more like herself, Nick’s still hiding in the kitchen. He’s eating Christmas cookies, and he looks sheepish when he sees Olivia, like he’s a little kid caught sneaking into the cookie jar.

“Are those your mom’s cookies?” Olivia asks. Karin’s Christmas cookies were practically legendary back home in Washington. Olivia has missed them every year since Nick broke up with her.

Nick smiles. “Yeah, she sent me some a few days ago.” Olivia doesn’t bother pointing out that he’ll be home the next day. He holds the Tupperware out to Olivia. “D’you want one?”

“Is that even a question?” Olivia says, snatching the Tupperware. She slides onto the stool next to Nick at the counter, digging for a gingerbread cookie. Nick’s knee nudges hers. “These are the best cookies I’ve ever had. I thought I would die without ever having them again.”

Nick chuckles and gently slides the Tupperware away from Olivia. “That’s a little dramatic.” At Olivia’s skeptical look, he continues, “My mom loves you. She would make you cookies if you asked.” 

Olivia takes another bite of her cookie instead of responding. Olivia’s on her fourth cookie when Nick yawns. 

“Dude, go to bed,” Olivia tells him. Nick opens his mouth to protest again. “You’re the one driving back to Michigan tomorrow, and I’m obviously keeping you up. Go to bed.”

Nick rolls his eyes but gives in. “Fine, I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door to his bedroom is shut before Olivia can figure out what happened. 

Later, Olivia’s most of the way to sleep when Nick’s door creaks open again. Olivia hears Nick’s quiet footsteps as he creeps over to the couch Olivia’s laying on. She cracks her eyes open.

“Sorry,” Nick whispers. “I just wanted an extra blanket.” 

There’s four blankets Olivia isn’t using piled at the end of the couch. Nick carefully pulls one off. In the dim light, Olivia watches as he wraps it around his shoulders like a cape. She shuts her eyes again as Nick’s footsteps recede. 

“Liv?” Nick whispers. Olivia can barely hear him.

“What, Nick?” 

“I thought you hated me,” he says.

“I could never hate you,” Olivia murmurs sleepily. She’s asleep before Nick's door even shuts again. 

The next morning, Nick’s up early. Olivia groans and rolls over, burying her face in one of Nick’s throw pillows. She rolls back over when the scent of fresh eggs and toast reaches her nose.

“You made breakfast?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Nick replies, the duh implied. “Come over here, and eat while it’s still hot.”

Olivia reluctantly drags herself off the couch and takes her place at the counter next to Nick. Nick’s knee bumps hers again as he slides a plate towards her.

“No coffee?” Olivia jokes.

“We can stop for Starbucks before we hit the road.” 

For some reason, Olivia wasn’t expecting that answer. She can’t come up with a witty response, so she eats her breakfast in silence.

Nick clears both of their plates when they’ve finished, starts the dishwasher, wipes nonexistent crumbs off the countertop. Olivia looks around Nick’s apartment. It’s pretty much spotless, except for the nest of blankets Olivia left on the couch. Nick’s bags are packed and stacked next to Olivia’s by the front door. The apartment’s nice, but it doesn’t feel lived in. Olivia guesses it really isn’t much, since Nick’s been grinding down in Cleveland most of the season. 

“Ready?” Nick asks, jolting Olivia out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sure, just lemme—” grab my bags, is what she was going to say, but Nick’s already hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbing the handle of Olivia’s suitcase. “Uh, yeah, let’s go.”

Nick leads the way back down to his car. Olivia watches as he tosses their bags in the trunk, then steps over to the passenger door to open it for Olivia. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he tosses his phone to Olivia. 

“Order yourself some Starbucks,” he says. “My order’s marked as a favorite, add that in, too.” 

Olivia sticks her tongue out at Nick as she unlocks his phone. “Like I would not order you something.”

She taps in her order while Nick drives to the nearest Starbucks. He makes a face when he hands Olivia her drink.

“How do you even drink that? Is there any coffee in there? Also, it’s iced, and it’s December.” Nick takes an appalled drink of his own hot coffee as Olivia sips her own very light, very sweet, and very iced coffee.

“Maybe you’re the one with shitty taste in coffee,” Olivia retorts, zero heat behind her words. When they were still in high school, neither of them drank coffee. Just another thing about Nick that changed without Olivia knowing.

Coffees in hand, they finally get on the road towards Michigan for real. Olivia had slept poorly on Nick’s couch, so she’s looking forward to dozing for a little while. Except, Nick chatters nervously for the first forty-five minutes of the drive. He even drowns out the Christmas playlist (her own) that Olivia cued up on his CarPlay. 

Olivia fights off a yawn. “Nick, you can just ask.”

Nick cuts himself off mid-sentence. “I don’t know what you mean.” Olivia gives him a flat look. Nick blushes and stares out the windshield instead of glancing over again. He sighs. “Why’d you and what’s-his-face break up?”

“Austin,” Olivia replies automatically. She notices Nick shake his head at her. She hesitates. “I thought he was going to propose this week,” she admits.

There’s a pause. “I don’t get it.”

“Austin told me that if I wanted a ring, I’d have to move to Ohio,” Olivia says. 

“What?” Nick asks. His immediate outrage is a little funny. “Liv, I’m sorry, that’s so shitty.” 

Olivia shrugs. “There was a fight about me wanting to stay in Michigan when I graduated a few years ago,” she says. “He never wanted to live in Detroit. I guess I sorta always knew this would happen, and I was just delaying the inevitable.” 

Nick clicks his tongue at her. “You love Michigan. Even in high school, you always talked about how you never wanted to leave.” 

Olivia can’t believe Nick remembers those conversations they had about the future. “I can’t believe you remember that,” she says.

Nick looks away from the highway for a moment to give Olivia a disbelieving look. “Why wouldn’t I remember that?” he asks.

Olivia doesn’t have a good response to that.

They’re both quiet for another few miles. 

“My turn,” Olivia asks, over the sound of The Carpenters playing on the car’s speakers. Nick makes a face, but doesn’t protest. “Why’d you break up with me?”

The question had been plaguing Olivia for years. She had thought she’d finally outrun it, but it followed her all the way to Nick’s car, all the way down I-75 towards Michigan. Maybe if she could get Nick to answer her now, she could finally truly move on. As soon as she could get out of this fucking car, that is. 

Nick sighs. “Liv, that’s not fair.”

“How is that ‘not fair’?” Olivia snaps. “You got to ask me a question, now I’m asking you.”

“Because I never liked that asshole you were dating, and I wanted to know what he did to break your heart.” 

“You never even met Austin!” Olivia says. 

“I didn’t need to,” Nick says. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “He got in that fight at the football game, and let you get pushed around.” “Nick, oh my god,” Olivia laughs. “It was a game against Ohio, all kinds of shit gets started at them.”

“He never should have let you fall,” Nick argues.

“Dude, that was like four years ago, how are you still upset about this?”

“He never deserved you,” Nick says.

“You never even met him!” Olivia says again. “And why do you even care so much? You dumped me after graduation.” Nick winces. “Why’d you break up with me, Nick?” she asks again.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” Nick says,

“Hold me back? From what?” Olivia asks, but Nick talks over her.

“You were going off to Ann Arbor, I wasn’t even going to college.”

Olivia scoffs. “Nick, you moved to Detroit. That’s, like, 45 minutes from Ann Arbor.” Nick shakes his head. “And you ended up at Michigan a few years later, anyway. And you’re literally in the NHL now!”

Nick sighs again. “You’re not getting it, Liv. I worked my ass off to get where I am. I walked on to the team at Michigan. I never should have made it all the way to the NHL, but people took chances on me. I didn’t want you waiting around on some kid who wasn’t even good enough to get a second look from anyone for years. Would you have really wanted to be a senior, dating some stupid sophomore?”

“I don’t know! You never gave me the chance to decide that for myself. I never cared about the hockey, Nick. I just really loved you,” Olivia says quietly. “Wait, we’re literally the same age. Just because you were a sophomore by credits doesn’t somehow make you two years younger than me.” “That’s what you focused on?” Nick asks, but he’s laughing. His face becomes serious again. “I wasn’t ready to start thinking about the future. I was just trying to hold onto hockey for as long as I could back then. I knew everyone expected us to settle down like everyone else in town does, but I couldn’t do that.”

“I did think we would get married one day,” Olivia admits.

“See!” Nick says. “I felt like everyone had this idea, this plan for us, but I wanted to make my own plans. I don’t know, I guess I got scared of the idea of my future being written by someone who wasn’t me.” 

Olivia looks out the window, at the dirty snow along the highway. She thinks she gets it. She had this idea of what a perfect life with Nick would have looked like, and when she didn’t get it, she tried to mold Austin into all the gaps in her life that Nick had left behind.

“We were just kids, Nick,” she says softly. 

Nick chuckles wryly. “And when have you ever known kids to be good at talking about big things?” he asks. 

Olivia has lost track of how long they’ve been driving. She’s not even really sure how far of a drive it is back to home, but Nick seems to know the way. His GPS isn’t even on. They lapse into silence for the duration of another song, then two.

Finally, Nick breaks the silence. “So, now what?”

Olivia huffs out a laugh and scrubs at her face. “Cry. Delete the Pinterest board I had for wedding planning.” 

Nick shoots her a sideways look. “People actually do that?”

Olivia laughs again. This time it’s more real. “Dude, I’ve been working on this board since we were in high school.”

Nick doesn’t respond to that, though his cheeks look a little pink. Olivia wonders if she went too far. Nick had just admitted he had been scared off by everyone basically planning their wedding when they were eighteen. She’s about to open her mouth to apologize, to take it back somehow, when Nick speaks again instead.

“We’ve still got a ways ahead of us, I can shut up so you can get some rest if you want.”

Although Olivia had been planning on napping in the car when this little road trip started, Nick’s sentence makes her sit up straighter. 

“Nicholas, why would I want you to shut up?”

“I don’t know how you don’t hate me, Liv.”

Olivia could smack him. “Would you stop that? I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you, dumbass.”

“But I broke your heart—”

“When we were eighteen! I was never angry at you, Nick, just confused, really.”

Nick falls silent. He’s quiet for long enough that Olivia does start to doze off.

“I missed you more than I hated you,” she whispers before she falls asleep. 

It takes Olivia a moment to reorient herself when she wakes up again. The car has stopped. Nick’s still sitting beside her in the driver’s seat, Christmas playlist still playing over the car’s speakers. Olivia looks blearily out the passenger window.

“This isn’t my house, Nick,” she says warily.

Nick gives her a sheepish look as he pushes open his car door, at the same time the Blankenburgs’ front door opens, and Karin appears.

“My mom wanted to see you,” he says. 

Olivia huffs and pushes her car door open, too. Karin is still standing on the front porch. Nick makes his way up the stairs, but his mom is focused on Olivia as she trails after him.

She reaches to pull Olivia into a hug. “Oh, Livvy, it’s so good to see you.”

Olivia stiffens, but hugs Karin back after a moment. “You too, Mrs. B.” She probably hasn’t seen Nick’s mom since before they broke up. “Merry Christmas.”

“Olivia, you know you can call me Karin.”

Olivia is physically incapable of that, actually, but she grins at Karin, anyway. 

Nick reappears on the front porch. Olivia hadn’t realized he’d stepped inside, but the door wafts all kinds of delicious smells from inside the Blankenburgs’ house as it swings shut. Olivia’s stomach grumbles. They must have driven through lunch.

“Okay, Mom, you got to say hi,” Nick says, stepping to Olivia’s side. “We should let Liv go, I’m sure she wants to see her own family.”

“Oh, they’re already all inside! So are your brother and sister, we’ve just been waiting on you two!” 

“What?” Nick and Olivia ask in unison. They share a bewildered look.

“Well, when you told me you were bringing Livvy home, I just invited her family over for brunch.” Nick and Olivia must still look confused, because she continues, “You know I always make too much food. And right now it’s all getting cold, so c’mon!”

Karin leaves Nick and Olivia on the porch.

Olivia looks sideways at Nick. “D’you think she made cinnamon rolls?” Olivia used to love it when she was allowed to sleep over on Saturday nights (in Katrina’s old room, while Nick slept in his own) and Karin made them fresh cinnamon rolls Sunday morning. 

Nick rolls his eyes, but he grins at Olivia. “All you care about is my mother’s cooking, huh?”

He pulls open the door for Olivia, still grinning. Olivia elbows him as she slips through the front door. She follows the smell of food and sound of laughter down the hall to the Blankenburgs’ formal dining room, Nick trailing after her. Every inch of the house is decked out in Karin’s Christmas decorations, and the dining room is no exception. The only thing Olivia is really focused on, though, is the table, piled high with food, and the two empty chairs at one end that are clearly meant for Nick and Olivia. They share another look, but everyone is waiting for them, so they take their seats. 

Brunch is great, if a little awkward. Nick’s brother and his girlfriend are home, so are Katrina and her husband. It’s nice to catch up with them, in between Karin grilling Olivia on her life over the last seven years. Karin’s cooking is as good as Olivia remembers it. She eats two cinnamon rolls. 

Olivia is in the middle of cuddling Katrina’s little boy when Karin says, “Oh, Livvy, it was such a surprise when Nick told me he was bringing you home. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you two got back together!”

Nick and Olivia say, “Oh, we’re not—” at the same time Olivia’s mom says, “No, Olivia’s been with Austin, oh, what, six years now?”

An awkward silence falls over the table. Olivia realizes she probably should have told her mom the real reason she was coming home early from Ohio. Nick clears his throat as Olivia pushes her chair back from the table. She hands Katrina her squirming toddler back. 

“Mom,” Nick starts, but Olivia cuts him off.

“You know, Mrs. B, thank you so much for having us all over, but I’m pretty tired. Nick’s couch isn’t the most comfortable to sleep on.”

Nick shoves his chair back, too. “I’ll take you back home, Liv. I’ve still got your bags in my car, anyway.”

Karin stands, too. The dining room suddenly feels too small. She gently takes Olivia by the elbow. “Here, Livvy, let me pack up some leftovers for you.” Olivia follows her to the kitchen.

She overhears Katrina hiss, “You made her sleep on the couch?” as they head into the kitchen. Olivia waits obediently while Karin plies her with Tupperwares of leftovers and Christmas cookies. 

“It really was nice to see you, Livvy,” Karin whispers. “You know you’re always welcome here, remember.” She looks like she wants to say something else, or maybe hug Olivia, but Olivia’s too busy trying not to drop anything. 

“Thanks, Mrs. B,” Olivia whispers back. 

Arms full of food, Olivia bypasses the still-awkwardly silent dining room and sneaks down the hallway to where Nick is waiting for her by the front door. He looks upset, still, but his face relaxes when he sees Olivia. 

“Geez, did my mom give you enough leftovers?” he asks. He takes a few of the Tupperware containers off the top of the stack. When Olivia doesn’t crack a smile at his teasing, his face morphs back into something like concern. “Liv, you okay?” he asks.

Olivia forces a smile. “Yeah, just ready to go home.”

It starts to snow again on the way back to Olivia’s childhood home. Nick doesn’t need a GPS to get there. He pulls into the driveway and puts his car in park. Neither of them make any move to get out of the car. Nick turns the radio off and turns to face Olivia.

“Liv, you okay?” Nicks asks again. 

For the first time since she stood on the freezing curb the night before, Olivia starts to cry. 

“No, I don’t know—” She takes a shaky breath. “When we were together, I used to think I had my whole life figured out, then we broke up, and I was so lost. I started dating Austin, and I could finally see a plan for the future again, and I clung to that idea of a perfect happily ever after with him for so long, but it was all just a lie, and now I’m 26 and single again—”

“Hold on,” Nick interrupts, “26 is not that old, Liv, oh my God.” He sounds like he’s about to laugh, which makes Olivia giggle, too.

“I thought I was going to be married to you by now!” she protests. 

To her surprise, Nick doesn’t shut down. Instead, he laughs for real. “Liv, if you’d married me, you’d still end up living in Ohio, babe.”

Olivia makes a face. Nick laughs harder. “Okay, but, like—” She doesn’t have a good ending to that sentence. In a desperate attempt to avoid Nick’s knowing gaze, she flings open the passenger door and dashes up the front steps to the door.

She distantly hears Nick swear and throw his car door open as well. He runs up the stairs after her, putting himself between Olivia and the door. 

“But what, Liv?” he asks, breathless.

“Nick, I don’t know.” She does know. “I think a part of me always knew Austin wasn’t the right person. I guess, maybe, Ohio wouldn’t be too bad with the right person.”

It’s freezing outside. Nick’s warm breath fans across Olivia’s chilled cheeks. 

“And who’s the right person, Liv?” Olivia doesn’t answer, refuses to meet Nick’s eyes. Nick huffs. He captures Olivia’s chin gently between his finger and thumb and tilts her chin up until she has no choice but to look him in the face. “How ‘bout this: do you think we could try again, Olivia?” he asks. 

Olivia swallows hard. “I don’t know, Nick—”

Olivia thinks about desperately calling Nick the night before when she needed help. Thinks about the blanket her mom made him years ago still laying on his bed every night. Thinks about brunch at the Blankenburgs’, the inexplicable feeling of home, there with her family and Nick’s. 

Thinks about Nick, standing in front of her now.

“They say long-distance can be pretty hard, Blankenburg,” Olivia says. 

Nick scoffs, eyes warm. “Who cares what they say?” Nick’s leaning in now. “Please tell me I can kiss you.”

Olivia laughs and winds her arms around Nick’s neck. “I guess I’ll allow it,” she teases.

“Fuck’s sake,” Nick says under his breath. “You guess.” Then he’s kissing Olivia, both hands tight on her hips, fierce and sweet at the same time, years of unspoken words passing between them.

Olivia makes herself pull away. Nick pouts at her. “Knowing our parents when they get together, we probably have a few hours until Mom and Dad come home.” Nick grins, already knowing what Olivia’s going to say next. “Would you like to come inside?”

Nick kisses Olivia again, quick, before dashing off the front porch to his car. Olivia watches as he hurriedly pulls her bags out of the trunk. 

“Liv, I thought you’d never ask.”

Olivia watches, a smile on her face, as Nick excitedly makes his way back to her. Long-distance may be hard, but with Nick, Olivia thinks it’ll be worth it. Besides, everyone always says that “home is where the heart is,” right? Olivia thinks home is wherever Nick Blankenburg is. And maybe one day, he’ll sign a contract with Detroit, and they’ll both get to come back home to Michigan.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Cold War

The receiving room was beautifully furnished. Neither overly ostentatious nor fussy in design. But it had a... coldness to it. This entire god forsaken building was, artfully hidden fireplaces be damned.

And it wasn't just the temperature.

The North may be a cold place, but the people there had always been a hardy one. Kind, if stoic. Not the sort for empty words and flamboyant gestures. So to see a building like this? One so very, very COLD? It spoke of something rotten. Something gone terribly wrong and far beyond control, hidden away out in the countryside where no one could stop it in time.

And it had.

And it DID.

And oh, how we SUFFERED for it, didn't we?

I didn't understand what went wrong. I knew, KNEW, because I was no fool, that the Story would change. Since I was remove a load bearing antagonist, how could it NOT? But... well, I did not wish to die. Certainly not for some other girl's love story. I refused to suffer. To be humiliated. To lead a life of pain and degradation. Just so she might frolic about with men, only to ultimately end up on the throne.

She would either have to find her way to greatness on her own merit, or settle of mediocrity. But it would NOT be built upon the back of my suffering. I gracefully bowed out. Took leave of the stage. And? Comported myself as befit a daughter of my house.

They were not... the most open. In fact, they struggled to connect. To offer or even receive comforts of any kind. But my family LOVED with a fierceness that would lead armies and burn nations. We were ABSOLUTE. And we? Stand TOGETHER. Always.

I would never forget. No matter how many days pass by. WHO I first saw when I opened my eyes. Clustered around my tiny form, rumbled and undignified in a way I would never see them again, with eyes that shone with such RELIEF. I never saw my mother's make run like that again. I half believe she hopes I do not remember.

But I DO.

And I always will.

In the Story, my character was a terror. Haughty and cruel. Sadistic. A wealthy brat that played God right up until all her sins came due. She drove a great deal of the early plot. I? Did none of those things. I threw myself into being a good daughter and a shining reflection upon the parents I loved.

I took my etiquette lessons seriously, to the delight of my teachers. My school work was promptly finished and followed by clarifying questions, to the joy of my tutors. I was polite to my peers. Overlooked their embarrassing early fumbles and mistakes. Helped them navigate social disasters with dignity. Promised nothing yet remained approachable.

My prospects had been ABYSMAL in the Story. It was part of the Narrative's punishment, I think. Though in hindsight, it is an ugly thing to do. A wonder I ever found such a story interesting enough to read. I imagine, it is the difference between tales and lived events? Nonetheless. My father was FLOODED with letters.

My poor mother absolutely HARRASED. Not an outing could go by, without SOMEONE mentioning their DEAR, SWEET son or nephew. To maintain proper appearances and neutrality, I was forced to attend more party's and events then I EVER wished to see.

I felt like a slab of meat up for auction. A show pony. But I also knew it was temporary. That I need only keep an eye out for a good, respectful man. Listen to the rumor mills. Discreetly bribe a few servants for information that "everyone knew". It was, after all, the way of things.

Should have been, the way of things.

But trouble started. Strange infighting, that started between boys and escalated to entire households. Tense, unspoken, lines dividing garden parties that only the day before were amicable. The Protagonist and her Harem of powerful players? Were BLIND to it.

Two of them were PRINCE for God sake! How had they been RAISED, that they could not feel the sudden shift in the socio-political landscape of their Father's court? He certainly could. And it clearly unnerved him. Yet? The Harem, each son's, each HEIRS, of some powerful position? Seemed both blind and deaf to all but the painfully obvious.

And even THAT? Was apparently unconnected to each other in their empty little minds. Had they nothing but flowers and glitter between their ears? One had to assume.

People were... accidentally forgotten. When invitations were sent. Then deliberately. Then OPENLY. Then? They were SNUBBED. Events deliberately scheduled on the same day, at the same time, as another. So all of polite society would have to CHOOSE. It was escalation.

And if it had been on or two houses? It would have been scandalous. Depending on the house, perhaps even worrying. A handful of houses? The king might have tried to get involved. Forcefully mediate. But it... it was somehow so much WORSE. Was EVERYWHERE.

Like someone had carefully examined the entirety of the Court for fault lines, then SWUNG. Some silent, careful, machination that left everyone at everyone's throat. Divided. Weak.

Easy to manipulate and control.

I could not for the life of me find the source of it all. My social season becoming swiftly more and more dangerous. Politically charged. People pushing and PUSHING for alliances I could not and WOULD NOT give without consulting my family. The capital was no longer safe. So... I quietly left.

Letters of vague excuse. Family matters, cousin so-n-so in their time of need, I'm sure you understand. Too late to stop me and under the cover of darkness.

It... I tell myself it is not my fault. That it would have happened either way. That I could not have known. But... but guilt is a heavy thing. It sits like lead in your gut. Like chains around your soul. They were waiting, I think. More, I suspect. Because...

Because the capital all but EXPLODED.

The carnage was IMMEDIATE. Not even a full day later, at a hunting party, the heir to one house shot the second son to another.

He did not survive.

The powder keg finally sparked and it all went up in flames. Alliances that had stood for centuries, shattered. Brother turned against brother. A wedding turned into a bloodbath, as the bride turned on both her family AND the groom, escaped into the night. Fights broke out everywhere.

The festering tension that had gone for so long unspoken? Could no longer be ignored. Would not, be ignored. The king was helpless to stop it all. The gaurd could only do so much. The fluffy, happy, empty headed little world of comfort the Protagonist knew? Was shredded to pieces.

It became starkly clear that the royal family... couldn't handle it.

That their heirs were... Weak.

Captain of the Gaurd, the Prime Minister, even the King's strongest supporter, the Duke of the East, ALL of them had... weak and ineffectual heirs. One or two could be a failing of parentage, but all together? They had let someone sabotage their sons. Make them puppets to be used and discarded at convenience.

The natural suspicion, of course, fell to the one most benefiting from said son's empty headedness. Much to the Harem's horror. No! Not their beloved shared girlfriend! That the world was burning around them? Of no consequence. But upsetting their darling little mouse? Unforgivable!

It was an act of true, genuine, paternal love; that those fools were banished by the king. They would have been killed horribly had they remained.

My family and I? Retreated to our lands. We had enough to survive. Our House and our People came first. We sent no messages, we received none. I practiced my frankly terrible embroidery. My maids gently CORRECTED my frankly terrible embroidery. The country BURNED.

Powerful people were picked off, one by one.

And wouldn't you know it? A new star was rising from the chaos. A voice of reason. Charismatic. Driven. Handsome and powerful, with the bloodline to match. Conveniently allied already to all those people who had replaced the Old Guard in government! How very serendipitous. That those positions should just... open up, like that. That he just HAPPEN to have such qualified people at the ready.

What ARE the odds?

My House knew our monster know. We watched. Careful. As he smiled and smiled. One hand open in welcome, the other? Holding a knife, hidden just out of sight. The king saw him for what he was. And the monster saw a worthy foe in the king. They were, after all, both very Dangerous men.

It was likely swordsmen duel.

Deadly steel clashing, shining, swift as it dances, from attack to defend to attack again. Experience versus youth. Power against power. The king was an old dragon, stood against a tiger come to see him dead. And though the dance was breathtaking? In the end... the dragon was old. Tired. And not the man he had once been.

The tiger won.

The king died in his sleep. Of... natural causes. No one believed it. No one dared say otherwise. The crown princess ascended the throne. She had played the game well. Taken after her Father. Been neglected in favor of her idiot brothers. In the Story, she was to be married off. A side character never to be heard from again.

It seems she was not content with such a fate.

Now she was Queen.

My family and I applauded. Polite. I hoped it marked the end of the strangeness. So many had died. So much had changed. Surely... surely it was over, wasn't it? But then? In the cold light of the early morning hours? A letter. Pristine and on a fine paper. Sat like a viper upon the table before us. A bomb.

My Father had stared at it, over steepled hands, like if he glared long enough? It would simply catch fire and burn away. The Monster's crest. Pressed lovingly into the wax. What... what did That Man want with us?

I watched him grit him teeth. Run his letter opener through paper like he was imagining jerking it across flesh, slitting the bastards throat for DARING to threaten his family. I held my mother's hand as he read. Watched his grip on the pages go white knuckled.

He didn't even tell a servant to burn it.

He slammed his chair back, in a terrible fury, and marched straight to the nearest fireplace to consign the letter to the flames. Over his dead body. Was his announcement. I... I had a terrible feeling it might be, whatever was on those pages.

The letters kept coming.

My Father burned them all.

Then? Trouble started.

And I did not need to see history twice, to know how it would end. I got up early. Waited near the damn GATES. My Father could not burn the letter before I read it, if I was there first. It... it was a marriage proposal. I... I did not understand. Why? For what POSSIBLE reason would he...?

It did not matter though, ultimately. I would be saying yes.

For my family? Anything.

And so I packed. My Father knew he couldn't stop me. I was entirely too much his daughter. It was why he had burned the letters. I was doing exactly what he would have done. He vowed to kill him. Slowly. Held me a swore. He would make me the loviest widow to ever live. My Mother promised to go look up family recipes for poisons. For rats, of course.

I loved them so, so much.

I LOVE them even now.

It is why I sit, back straight, fragrant tea untouched, in this cold but beautiful receiving room. I wear my best dress. The one that makes me look coldly beautiful. Elegant but untouchable. I feel like a winter spirit in it. Something made of ice and bone. I wear it when I want to feel stronger. I don't know if it's helping.

If I hold myself still. Count my breathing and do not think. I can almost... ALMOST? Slip into a trance, I think. Let my mind unfocus. They are keeping me waiting. It's a power play. So be it. You will find me unaffected. Bored even, by your petty displays. I stare peacefully into nothing. A statue in a silent room.

I hope I fucking unnerve them.

Confident footsteps. How quite has it become, that I can hear them, even through the door? I do not turn my head. Note absent-mindedly that the tea before me has long grown cold. This whole damn place is cold. I dispise it. The door is opened for the master of this house. I pointedly do not greet him.

"Aaah~, So COLD" He sing song's, almost chiding, it'd be nearly playful if not for the hint of something darker threaded through his voice. He has an almost victorious little bounce to his step as he approaches. "But then again, I already knew that, didn't I? Frigid, untouchable, and unfeeling~ Now? Now you're MINE~"

He laughs. There is something half disbelieving, half euphoric in the noise. Like he's finally gotten everything he's ever wanted and doesn't know what to DO with himself. He invades my space. Looms. Eyes a touch too wide as he stares. Drinking in the sight of me sitting before him, like he can't believe it's real.

"Do you know, snowdrop? How long it TOOK? What I had to DO to achieve this? Ha ha!" The grin that spills across his feature is unhinged. All I can do is sit, tense and frozen before a madman, as he speaks. "The WHINING, the COMPLAINING, the 'what about meeeee'~! They never shut UP! Wretched and pathetic to the last, they panted after you like DOGS."

Hands slid from his pockets, to come to rest on either side of me on the arm rests, bracing and caging me in. Trapping me as he leaned down. Entirely too close. He smelled like winter air, sharp but clean. His eyes were a blue grey so hauntingly pale, they seemed to bore straight into the soul.

"But they were so GREEDY. So DESPERATE for power. It was EASY, to play them like fools against each other. Make them DANCE. And worth it. Because I get what I wanted~ The brat get her silly little throne, and you?" His grin was all teeth. One hand coming up to rest on my head. "Now you can NEVER escape me."

The hand slid, slow and fingers splayed, downwards. Possessive as each finger brushed, stroked, the side of my face. My jaw. My neck. His eyes following it down with something that could only be blatant lust. His grip tightened around my neck. Not enough to choke. Just, it seemed, to prove to himself that he COULD.

His thumb rest again my pulse, facinated.

Sliding back up to cup my chin, gently forcing my head up, so I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His eyes were dilated. I glared.

"I am going to RUIN you." He whispered, sounding entirely too reverent. As though it were some act of worship he had planned. "Take you apart at the seams. Pretty, pretty little thing. Mine, all mine~"

"I saw you first, you know. You couldn't even be bothered to look at me. I tried all night. That's when I KNEW. I was going to hunt you down. MAKE you mine. Marry you and destroy anyone and anything that stood in my way. And I DID~♡"

"I'm going to have each and every part of you, Darling. Love you and love you until you can't HELP but love me back. We are going to be BEAUTIFUL together. You don't have a choice~♡"

[aventurine83]

The Tempest

William James Moriarty x Reader

"Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, with hair up-staring, ーthen like reeds, not hair,ーwas the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.'" William leant back in his armchair, scarlet eye blinking beneath his beautiful blond eyelashes as he gazed into empty space. Over his other eye was a dark black eyepatch.

You simply hummed as you looked into the book you held, of Shakespeare's plays. You remembered only so many quotes from it. William had no need for a book, he could recite all 40 of Shakespeare's plays from memory. Him reciting thus to you helped you get through the book quickly and in a more joyous way. Hearing your husband speak was something that gave you much mirth, especially when you were both seated across each other in comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace in the midst of a dreary winter in your small home at Brighton.

"I feel bad for Ariel." you commented. "Has to do his master's bidding."

William chuckled softly and dryly on hearing your words. "I doubt Ariel is completely blameless." he uttered as he propped one leg over the other. William had a most adorable and polite way of seating himself, it never failed to make you swoon and want to wrap him in a hug.

"Thats true." you replied, closing your book, yawning.

"Are you tired? We may stop here for today if that is your wish." William smiled, his scarlet gaze homing in on yours.

"That would be much appreciated." you smiled at him, noting the soft expression he held. William had always had a solemn, distant expression before, so seeing him thus softened brought a sort of happiness to your heart. "Sherlock didn't barge in tonight. Odd, considering he does so every single night taking every advantage of the fact he lives next door." you sighed.

William chuckled heartily. "I would have appreciated had Sherly shown himself. I do have a few things that I need to talk to him about." he hummed softly, his voice as soft and lovely as ever, decorated with his signature British accent.

"We should get to bed, Liam." you placed your hand on the man's arm, rubbing it gently. "You have an early day tomorrow."

"Indeed." William nodded gently, his scarlet eye reminiscient of either the beauty of sunsets or the glistening crimson of blood freshly smeared on the sharpened tip of a blade. "Were I but wretched, my love." he sighed, placing his hand on your cheek. "It pains me to see your attentions gone to work on so odious a man as myself, on such vulgar a connexion, as has hardly been since the notion of the propriety of society, and that of the worth of life, came into being." his tone was soft, his eyes sorrowful, such a broken man he was, yet so beautiful.

"William..." you could hardly place your words right, you had little idea of what to say, and you wished for him to finish his thought as well.

"For years have my actions led me, in desperation for a result, caused me to sin twice and twice again." William uttered, his expression hardening. "For years, have these palms been seeped through with a scarlet as irremovable as the stains of ink on a canvas pure white, untainted; marred with blotches so painfully obvious as would most likely repulse any whose misfortune beget them gaze upon it, and scruple through its length and width desperately so as to propagate the assemblage of a search of true purpose, true affability, even a sense of alacrity within but finding nothing."

You gently tugged at William's eyepatch, an action that caused him to flinch before he tried to relax ultimately under your observance. You removed it carefully, revealing a scar that marred his skin, and a discoloured eye that could see no longer. You gently kissed the scar, your hand resting on William's cheek. "There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, good things will strive to dwell with't." you spoke softly. Lines from the Tempest, offered to Ferdinand by Miranda.

William's gaze immediately softened, his heart warm and full, recognizing the lines the moment they slipped past your mouth. He pulled you closer by the waist, a gentle, small smile tugging at his lips. "You render me speechless, you render me most powerless and above all, a fool to your whims." he kissed your lips gently. "Oh sweet, fair Miranda of mine." he brought you down onto his lap, kissing your neck. "My darling mistress."

[velieditss]

Forbidden Desires

Pairing: Davos Blackwood x Bracken!reader

CW: Just Brackens being the Blackwoods' number 1 haters

Summary: It wasn’t your fault that your brothers' feud with the Blackwoods escalated into a deadly duel, nor that it cost lives, but now, it is your responsibility to make him hate you... or love you.

An: 🤭

"You're mad!"

You shouted, pulling away from the fireplace. Your anger was mounting despite the day having just begun, and you shoved the poker back into its stand with a rough motion. Outside, a mischievous wind lashed the leaded windows with heavy raindrops and stinging sleet, its wild abandon mocking the oppression weighing down your spirit. The disordered tumult of dark clouds looming over the Bracken house mirrored your mood, accompanied by the fiery violet glare in your eyes as you stared furiously into the flames.

"You're all mad!" you shouted indignantly.

The word echoed in your mind. *Marriage.* What had once been a childhood dream had turned into a synonym for absurdity. It wasn’t that you were against marriage. Not at all! The education your mother had given you had prepared you to be a good wife. The problem was that, because of your brothers and their ridiculous duels with the Blackwoods, the situation had reached the ears of King Viserys.

And no, it wasn’t the first time the king had asked you to set aside your differences and maintain peace, but this time, their stupid fight had resulted in deaths, fires, and significant losses.

As a result, Viserys had ordered that, as a proof of goodwill to prevent it from happening again, the two families should unite in marriage.

"Why me?" you demanded, pointing at your entire family.

"Barbara is older; she should marry that ridiculous, dissolute Blackwood," you spat out the best insult you could muster in your moment of fury.

"I'm engaged, you fool," Barbara replied with a dismissive tone.

"For three years now. Be realistic and admit that Lord Banefort will never marry you!"

"Enough!" Lord Amos barked, silencing his two daughters.

You had never seen Davos Blackwood, nor had you cared to, but now you wished you had. In your mind, you pictured eyes too close together, a thin, hooked nose, lank hair sticking out and thin lips curled in a lascivious smile revealing small, yellow teeth. You completed your creation with a wart on the tip of a nearly nonexistent chin. The final image came into full splendor when you placed it on a scrawny, bony body.

Forced to bury the fantasies of youth, the prospect of married life held no pleasant promises. It was not at all strange for a young woman to reject the suitor her parents imposed upon her; what was strange was that they accepted the rejection and heeded the opinion of the affected party.

Lord Bracken brought one hand to his forehead, as if his head throbbed, and collapsed onto the sofa. He looked at his two sons, who had remained silent since the king’s representative had left.

"The king could overlook one duel, two duels caused surprise, and you were warned—and even those could have been overlooked because no one had died—but three, with deaths and fires..." your father sighed, exasperated.

"You could have refused," you accused.

"And be branded a coward? Of course, I couldn't refuse," Raylon replied. "At least this time, I nearly killed Davos; maybe the bastard will still die from his wounds, and we can put an end to this nonsense."

Restless, you walked to the window and, through the diamond-shaped panes, stared pensively at the cobbled path. The trees surrounding the village were skeletal, dark silhouettes behind the dense curtain of rain.

"Send her immediately," Olyver interrupted. "The Blackwood won’t accept her, and he'll be the one to lose a great deal of his fortune by paying a breach of contract."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

You expected nothing else from him, who harbored not a shred of interest in you. Standing at six feet tall, nearly the same height as your father and just as handsome and robust as Amos had once been, Olyver had his flaws, but that didn’t make him any less attractive.

All the Brackens resembled each other, with the same black hair and light green eyes, the only variation being in height. Barbara and you had both surpassed your mother in height by a few inches, but Olyver and Raylon were as hedonistic as Prince Daemon. Or so they claimed; however, what was true was that, at their young age, they had already amassed a few mistresses. And yet, they had the audacity to seek the hands of Princesses Baela and Rhaena, before it was announced they would marry their cousins, of course.

"You two shouldn’t speak; you have no right after causing an atrocity that now forces us to mix our blood with those filthy Blackwoods," Lord Amos pointed at them.

"Those duels were insignificant, trivial. They were the first to draw their swords, Father," Raylon tried to justify.

Your father sighed and looked at you in silence, observing as you turned your back on them and simply listened.

"My daughter, I know you don’t like it—no one does—but these are the king's orders."

You averted your gaze to the path, feeling a dull pain, like a mild betrayal: you were just beginning to live, and already you were to become the wife of your worst enemy.

You had no desire to offer a kind smile to another, much less to one of those foolish dolts, and you sincerely hoped, even prayed, that some bridge, damaged by the rain, would collapse under the weight of the carriage transporting you, and both would be lost forever beneath the waters... you wouldn’t regret it too much. You were certain that the seven hells would be a more comfortable destination than the lands of the Blackwoods.

"So, when do I leave?" you asked resignedly, turning to face your family.

There was only a brief silence, a small one.

"You will depart at dawn tomorrow, with an escort and a lady-in-waiting."

They were sending you alone to the slaughterhouse. How amusing.

𖣂︎

"Make him love you, my dear. Make him fall deeply in love with you, and you’ll enjoy a good life by his side," your mother whispered before you boarded the carriage.

As beautiful as that sounded, it was more likely the Blackwood would tie you to a stone and throw you into the sea to drown once you set foot in his castle.

The carriage, bearing the family crest, had stopped at the main gate. You supposed that family pride required your arrival at the enemy’s door to be grand. In addition to the coachman, you were escorted by two footmen; the servants accompanying you had received instructions: they were to return home with you immediately if you were not received. Otherwise, the servants (except for your personal maid) were to return to Stone Hedge in the carriage. Your last hope was to trust that they wouldn’t let you in and that Lord Samwell Blackwood didn’t care about losing a large sum of his fortune.

The emissary had first gone to the Bracken house. From Stone Hedge, it took half a week by carriage to reach the Blackwood home at Raventree Hall. The representative was already on his way and was only a day ahead of you, which meant that the Blackwoods were still unaware of your imminent arrival. If the news enraged them when they received it ("and rightly so," you thought), it would be like leaving yourself in the hands of the stranger.

You wished you had more than a single day to regain your composure before your arrival.

It would have been logical to wait for the Blackwoods' reaction, but the Brackens were truly confident that you would be rejected.

You still remembered what Olyver had said to you:

"Marry him first, then poison him," was all he said. "If you do it right, we can claim half their lands, or all of them."

Of course, as if the rest of his family wouldn’t fight back and, in the process, make the stone-throwing scenario a reality.

"And what if I end up liking him?" you had replied.

You didn’t have much faith that it would happen, but it could...

"You won’t like him. You’ll be loyal to your family and hate him."

However, you said nothing, and masked your shock at the suggestion. You knew he was wicked and resentful, even cruel, but... *bloodthirsty*? And yet, he was so handsome, enjoyed so many advantages, and was even the eldest son of his father...

Even so, you took the vial of poison in your hands and hid it among your clothes.

"Can you remind me once more, why do we hate the Blackwoods?"

Olyver shrugged.

"They’re despicable, but other than that, I don’t know," he replied, snorting. "But don’t cross us on this matter, sister. We don’t want to be related to them through marriage. Not again, I hate seeing the Blackwood name in our records. His death will eliminate any other demands the king might make of us."

You gestured towards the door, and he gave you such a wicked look for dismissing him that you thought he might punch you to emphasize what he had just told you—it wouldn’t have been the first time he did so. But Olyver was still focused on his intrigue, and before leaving, he said:

"As a widow, you’ll enjoy freedom, more freedom than a family or a husband could ever provide. Don’t forget that, sister."

It was ridiculous that the only thing you knew about the Blackwoods was that they wanted to see your family extinct. You didn’t know if Davos was a cold or unstable man; he might even be engaged to another woman, in love with someone else...

If you thought about it, you couldn’t pity him more than you already did.

Poor man and poor family, but if he dared to marry you and take a lover, you would burn his lands to the ground, down to the very foundations.

Masterlist

Chapter 2

[acourtofpenandpaper]

A Better Idea (Cassian x Reader) Cassian Week Day 1

A little short for @cassianappreciationweek Cassian week Day 1 for the prompt 'Flying'! Stumbled across this just today, glad I discovered it just on day one:)

Summary: When you return from a disastrous date you just want to drown your frustration and sorrow in wine. And more wine. But Cassian has a better idea...

Tags: Cassian x reader, short, fluff, secret feelings

Length: 1.5k

Cassian Week Day 1: Flying

Enjoy <3

Masterlist

With admittedly too much force than you intended to, you kick off your shoes by the entrance and trot towards the living room of the townhouse you reside in with your friends. Today, you are not in the mood for talking at all and you wish you would have found a new apartment by now.

You could not bear another painful conversation about your failed dating attempts by Cassian, Az and Mor. But somehow, everytime you return home from them, they seem to be lurking around the house.

Tonight though, it seemed like Urd is in your favor for once. You tiptoe into the living room, wincing at the pain that shoots up in your feet. Never would you wear these high heels again.

Especially not for such an idiot like the fae male you had the displeasure of meeting before. The audacity some males possess is a mystery to you.

Letting out a huge sigh, you fall down onto the soft cushions of the sofa beside the fireplace and reach for the drinks table. Grabbing a fresh glass you manage to pour yourself some of the old Wine Rhys stores here for guests.

That means it is the good stuff. Just what you need.

"Home early, hm?" A dark voice sounds from behind you, making you startle.

"Oh my", you exclaim and turn around to be met with Cassian standing in the doorway. "Oh you, hey. Yeah, I am home. And no, I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad, huh?" He asks and sits down on the sofa opposite yours.

"What part of I don't want to talk about it was hard to understand?" You hiss but immediately regret your snappy tone.

"Alcohol won't make your problems go away, though", he remarks and points to the full to the brim glass in your hand.

"It won't but it will make me forget for just this evening. So, if you could see yourself out I am doing fine, thank you."

You never understood the fixation Cassian had on your failed dates. When Mor and Az were concerned, he seemed to have a heightened interest in who you were meeting up with. But tonight, you are having none of it, therefore, you bring the glass to your lips.

Or are trying to because Cassian stands up and grabs the glass right out of your hand.

"The fuck you are", he responds to your admittedly rude dismissal.

"What do you want?"

"I have a better idea than getting shitfaced at 7pm. Get your coat and some shoes. We are going out", he orders.

You want to protest but he stands there, waiting for you to get into motion.

"Fine", you huff and get up.

Minutes later, you stand outside the townhouse covered in a coat against the cold of this November night.

"Now what?" You ask.

Cassian grins and answers. "I thought you'd never ask."

Next thing you know he is scooping you up into his arms and states: "We're going for a ride."

You want to protest, again, but cannot formulate your thoughts quickly enough because Cassian already leapt into the air.

And you with him.

Instinctively, you grasp onto him and pull yourself to his strong chest. It is not like you have never flown with any of the guys before but it usually came with a little more preparation than now.

You open your eyes and the first thing you see is Cassian staring at you, smiling. You look around and see Velaris painted in the lights of the city beneath you. Snow has begun falling around you, coating the streets in white powder.

"Sorry if I scared you. Should have warned you before leaping into the sky."

"It's okay. Where are we going?"

"Just flying around a little, helping you clear your head. If you have a place in mind I can take you there", he offers.

You shake your head. "No, this is fine. If you get exhausted we can..."

He tsks. "Do I look like I get exhausted carrying you around? I think not. Now tell me about your evening. If you want to."

You let out a pained sigh. "There is not a lot to say, to be honest. Guy was a douche. He arrived late which should have been a red flag to begin with. But his whole demeanour was super uncomfortable. I was glad when it ended."

Cassian hums in response.

"I guess I'll stop looking for my mate. Maybe not everyone has one? I mean it could be possible that you never meet your match."

"Don't say that. Everyone has a match out there. What do you mean with uncomfortable? He wasn't inappropriate, was he? Otherwise, I'd have to pay him a visit later."

You chuckle and push playfully against his hard chest. Gods, he must work out constantly for being built like this. Having such a body and face should be illegal. You never would admit in a hundred years that you have crushed on Cassian since the day you met him and the other guys. But he would never let you hear the end of it. And despite your attraction to him, you were looking for a relationship while he had a certain reputation among the friend circle. Not exactly relationship material. So, wanting to preserve your friendship you never talked about your crush on him with anyone.

"It wasn't like that. You know, I just didn't feel at ease like with the others or you. I don't feel the need to disguise myself as someone I am not", you explain.

You both stay silent for a while, taking in the scenery around you. Eventually, Cassian seems to spot a hill on the outskirts of the city and lands atop of it. From where you stand, you have a breathtaking view over the city. You cannot help to just gape at the beauty of your hometown.

Your breath visible in the air you notice how the temperatures have dropped on the hill in comparison to the city. You start shaking a little but almost immediately, you feel the soft weight of silk envelop your back. You look to your side and see Cassian spreading one of his wings around you.

You smile at him and stand closer. "Thanks. For the flight as well, I guess. It really is better than getting shitfaced."

"I figured as much. What I don't understand though..." He begins but stops, staring into the city.

"What is it?"

"Tell me something. If you feel so comfortable with me, as you said. And you also said it is important to you to feel comfortable. Why is it that you always go on these horrible dates when they make you feel like you have to change yourself?"

You huff out a laugh. "Cassian, I mean, isn't it obvious? We are friends. I am looking for a relationship, I don't get what you are getting at."

"Who says I am not looking for a relationship?" He asks and turns to face you.

You try to grasp the words but you are speechless.

So he continues. "It is like you meet all these guys that have nothing on you by the way. And it seems like..." He rakes his fingers through the long strands of his hair.

"And it seems like what?" You ask astounded.

"It seems like I am invisible to you. And I don't know why."

Now you are completely at a loss of words. Him, invisible to you? In what kind of askew reality was he living? Has he looked in the mirror?

"I...you...I always assumed you were just having fun. And I would have never assumed that you...me?" You point towards yourself.

"That I fancied you?"

Now that he labels it so plainly your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks going warm.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, now you have it. I made a fool out of myself because I just couldn't bear see you return from yet another awful date."

"You haven't made a fool out of yourself", you say and reach out to touch his cheek. Not breaking eye contact you both just stand there for a while.

"It wasn't ever on my radar that you had an interest in me. Except for friendship."

"I guess I have to work on my flirting skills. They seem to not work on the one woman I am interested in", he sighs but a smile is creeping up on his lips.

Relief washes over you.

"If you feel better I had a crush on you ever since I stumbled right in front of you the day we met. I was so embarrassed."

He laughs. "That was cute as Hel."

"So, what do we do now?" You ask.

"I mean, now that the cat's out the bag. Will you go out on a date with me? I mean, technically, this can count as a date, too. It will be our second date then, just to ease the pressure of first dates.", he proposes, smirking.

"Oh, so you take girls on a flight for the first date?" You joke.

Cassian shakes his head and wraps his arms around you. "No. Just you."

You smile. Maybe this really has been a better idea than getting drunk.

I hope you enjoyed this short that I have written for Cassian week! I had so much fun and hope I can contribute to the other days as well. Lots of love <3

And if you have requests for Acotar or Baldurs Gate imagjnes, feel free to use the askbox!

[deandoesthingstome]

Haunted Fantasy

Pairing: Ghost!Mike x Reader

Summary: Just a little fun.

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v (doggy style), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: This is about half as short as the others, but I still love it and I hope you do, too. This is my first time writing for Mike as main and I hope I did him justice for those of you who live for this guy.

A/N 2: For those of you who picked a different character for this visit, just know, you weren't entirely wrong. He's coming.

A/N 3: And finally, at one point I had imagined these chapters could all stand alone. Walter feels differently, so maybe check out the masterlist if you're new here.

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

August was a hit just like you knew he would be. Maybe your best writing yet. Something about the experience with him just brought it out of you and the story flowed from your fingertips to the keyboard as soon as you stepped into your apartment the next morning. 

Yes, you had sprung for an actual overnight. And though he didn’t sleep with you, he was there when you fell asleep and woke again the next day. Apologizing, if you could believe it. He felt he hadn’t truly given you the strict dom experience you had asked for and wondered if he could talk you into a do-over. Maybe even throw in an add-on for free.

You were flattered, but assured him the night had been wonderful and you’d definitely felt satiated this morning. You did want to ask about the…sounds you’d heard the night before, but something told you it wouldn’t be received well so you just thanked him again, enjoyed a little morning coffee while you showered and changed, then headed home. 

Where the story practically wrote itself and was up on the site by the evening.

MNstrluvr: what do you mean? sendmeanangel: it was like someone knew I was in there with August MNstrluvr: so you DO think it was him sendmeanangel: idk. Probably just wishful thinking darkgothnightengale: you have it so bad for him don’t you? sendmeanangel: it’s ridiculous. He must have seen dozens of women in a month or two. I don’t know why i would think he’d be thinking of me ever darkgothnightengale: because August said as much. And Sy too for that matter MNstrluvr: yeah, didn’t Sy tell you Walter rarely uses his gifts during visits? And August said he’d see you at the window. He has it bad for you, too, no doubt sendmeanangel: it doesn't matter anyway. I don’t even know his last name. And i haven’t been able to find any available bookings for him for weeks.   darkgothnightengale: well, are you at least going back? sendmeanangel: if i do, i need something lighter. The room, the bite, August…it was all so intense.  MNstrluvr: so the ghost? sendmeanangel: the ghost

When you closed the door to room 7-743, you found yourself in what looked like the living room of every house on every sitcom you'd ever seen. TV. Couch. Dad's recliner. Coffee table. End tables. A few bookshelves. A fireplace. Standard middle-class scenery. Nothing ornate or fancy. But also, no bed.

You wondered if the door across from the entry led to a bathroom, or another room, similar to the suite you'd found yourself in with August. Before you could step to the other side of the room to find out, a chill passed through the air around you and just as suddenly, as if to counter the effect, a roaring fire eased to life in the fireplace.

"That's better."

"Hello?" you called out in response to the voice, that was both a whisper and a warm tenor in your ear. "Is anyone there?"

Nothing. No answer. Despite the fire next to you, you felt goosebumps and crossed your arms to rub your hands over your skin.

Another deep breath before you continued across the room, determined to see what was behind the other door. Before you made it, an end table lamp switched on.

"Who's there?" You turned in place, looking for any form in the room that could have turned the light on. You were starting to wonder if this was not the haunting you’d signed up for. As you turned again, you felt a cool breeze drift across your chest, and while it felt nice, it also felt a little invasive. “This isn’t funny.”

“Easy, sweet cheeks. It’s just me.” A not-totally opaque figure appeared right in front of you, wide-eyed and with an apologetic smile. “I probably took that introduction too far. I’m Mike.”

You reached your hand for his and grasped nothing but air while he grinned like a fool at you.

“Cute,” you smiled back, even while wondering if you’d ever get to place your hands on something solid this evening.

“Why, thank you,” he took a small bow as you reached to smack his shoulder and found your hand drifting through air again.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” you laughed.

“Oh? You don’t find me pleasant to look at?” Mike grabbed at his chest and stumbled back as if deeply wounded, and for a moment you thought you really had hurt his feelings. “That’s alright. I have a feeling I can change your mind.” Mike stood tall and wiggled his eyebrows at you. Yeah, he definitely had the height you’d come to desire. You wondered about the rest.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply… I was just talking about the…” you waved your hand through the air to indicate his less-than-corporeal state and threw a worried look on your face to match your concern that you’d flubbed this meeting already.

Mike let out a full body laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m only joking. You’re free to like whatever looks you like. Wanna sit?” He swept a transparent arm toward the couch as an invitation. You sat on one side, while he drifted down to the other. “You did know you booked the ghost room, right?”

“I did. I don’t know what I was expecting. Not that, obviously. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, but I should ask. Do you want me to stay in this form?”

“You mean this form that I can’t actually feel?” you teased.

Again as if floating, Mike sidled over the length of the couch and right on next to you. You still couldn’t feel a physical connection, no matter how close to you he appeared to be, though the shiver that ran through your body was certainly not due to his cool temperature. He really was cute, no matter what little word games you’d started to play with him.

“It’s that much of a bummer, huh?”

“I mean…”

“Okay, look. I can do one, or the other, or both.”

“Both?” You were intrigued.

“Yeah, but honestly. This can be good and I’d love to show you. Doesn’t have to be now, though. We can start solid.” Mike raised an eyebrow at you and waited for your nod.

“I think for the storyline, it makes more sense, yeah?”

“Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed, suddenly off the couch as if embarrassed. “I totally spaced that! Yeah, yeah, of course. The scene.”

You laughed out loud. This guy was honestly a trip already and you weren’t even naked. In the next moment, you could suddenly no longer glimpse the room through his translucent form and you stood and took another moment to take it in fully.

Black Chucks, dark-washed blue jeans almost too tight around the thighs and definitely supporting a package that appeared to match his predecessors, plain white tee, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. The perfect delinquent boyfriend planning to sneak into the house once the kids you were watching were sound asleep, their parents still several hours away from returning for the evening. To be fair, you weren't sure how you expected a solid form host to deliver the ghost fantasy, but thankfully it sounded like Mike had a plan. And that had to be plenty of time for some fun.

“I’ll step out for a minute. Reset the scene, okay?” he tilted his adorable head full of somewhat unruly curls at you, gave a ridiculous wink and exited the room. 

You settled back down on the couch, grabbed the random book sitting on the end table and started to thumb through the pages, as if just settling down after putting the kids to bed. The passage you flipped to caught your attention and you barely even noticed that you’d read through several pages before a loud bump sounded on the ceiling above you, followed by the sound of chains dragging before the window behind you started rattling.

“Jesus! What the fuck!” you exclaimed, already forgetting the story you’d put yourself in. You set your book down and stood, ear tilted up waiting for more noise before you stepped to the window, placing a palm against the glass to still the shaking. You checked the lock and found it holding, so imagined yourself safe again.

You sat back down, picked up the book, flipped a few more pages before you decided to turn on the TV, first glancing at your watch to check the time. He’s got to be close now, you thought. This was the time I told him to come. The kids are out like lights.

The TV sprang to life with a scary movie already in progress. You recognized it and wished Mike were here, already. If you knew the time marker, you were about to be scared out of your wits. The imagery always made you jump, no matter how many times you saw it. Almost on queue, a heavy knock sounded at the door, just as the jump scare presented on screen, and you could swear you heard the chains rattling again.

At your shriek, the door burst open and Mike had you in his arms.

“You okay, sweet cheeks? I heard a scream just as I got here. Sorry I was late.”

“Mike! There’s something in the house. Plus this godforsaken movie.” You clung to your temporary boyfriend, trembling in his arms.

“Whoa, whoa, something in the house?” he inquired with concern. “Want me to take a look?”

“NO! Stay here with me,” you implored him. “Please, Mike.”

“Okay, okay. Come on, let’s sit. But if we hear something else, I’m checking it out, okay?”

You agreed and took a spot on the couch, waiting for Mike to take off his jacket and sit down as well. You cuddled up next to him, curling your knees under you and leaning against his side. You draped a hand over his chest and could hardly stifle a small smile as you felt his firm body beside you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and his hand and fingers caressed your upper arm. 

The movie only got a few more moments of your eyes before Mike’s hand began to wander further and further from your upper arm to instead drape down the front of your collarbone and onto your breast. At your soft moan, Mike gave a small squeeze as if testing the waters further and your response gave him permission to begin to knead in earnest as he bent his head to capture your lips with his.

His kiss was hungry and erratic, a little messy partly due to the orientation of your bodies, which Mike took upon himself to remedy. As deftly as anyone had ever been, he simultaneously withdrew his arm from around your shoulder, turned and pushed you eagerly to your back while he scooped your legs straight to stretch you out beneath him.

He slotted a leg between your thighs and pressed into your tender core as he bent to kiss you again. It was then that you realized the hungry, messy style had nothing to do with body positioning. His tongue swiped over your lips and into your open waiting mouth and you gasped as a hand roamed all over your body, but paid special attention to your breasts.

“Mmm, Mike, that feels so nice,” you moaned.

“I’ll gladly give these amazing tits more attention,” he smirked, pulling the v-neck of your loose t-shirt to give his mouth room to move. You didn’t think about how you would never get the shape back and the shirt was basically ruined, but honestly it wasn’t the most comfortable feeling so you pushed him back a bit to give you space to cross your arms and grab the hem. 

As soon as he saw the motion, he was grappling with your body and the fabric around it with the same frenzy he used to kiss you. It wasn’t exactly a help, but together you removed your shirt and bra, tossing them to the floor as you reclined back to receive him over you again. More kisses, with his lips burning yours and your hands running up his back and neck to grip into his luscious brown wavy hair and hold his face to yours. More grinding of your hips up into his where the growing bulge in his pants pushed into your belly. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned into your ear before nipping his way down your neck and back onto your chest. Wet, sloppy kisses trailed down the swell of your breast before he wrapped his kissable lips around your ever-hardening bud, licking and nipping and sucking several moans from you before giving the other nipple the same attention.

At the same time you felt fingers trailing down your tummy and into your jeans, where they slipped between the fabric of your underwear and the slick already seeping from you.

“Holy pussy, you are wet!” Mike exclaimed and you giggled, relishing the lightness of the evening. This was simply a little fun, with a bit of strapping young fluff and you were grateful for the time already.

“It’s all for you, baby. I get so wet for you. Can’t wait to feel you.”

Mike dove for your lips again, pressing his tongue into your mouth and his fingers into your burning core. He was driving you crazy and you never wanted it to stop. Mike withdrew his fingers only long enough to pop the button and pull the zipper down on your jeans, allowing more space for his hand to snake behind your panties and curl into your aching cunt.

With what felt like very practiced ease, he stroked and nudged your walls, pushing in and pulling out while he pressed a thumb against your tender pearl. With every new moan of pleasure, Mike slid his fingers a little deeper and crooked them a little more until he found a spot that clearly made you scream in a way that was so completely unlike the one he heard when he re-entered the room that he had to crack a wide grin, knowing he was making you come undone. He kissed the last of your gasps away, still stroking slow and lazily around your soaked folds.

You let him place one last deep kiss on your lips before you gathered your wits and pressed him back, moving up and over to straddle his lap. It was your turn now to kiss him deep while your fingers curled around an article of his clothing and you urged him to lift his arms so you could remove his shirt. With the break of the kiss he found time to ask a quick question.

“Are you sure they won’t be back soon?” he asked, still playing along with the fantasy that you had made up for the room.

“Mike, since when have you cared if you get caught fucking the babysitter?” you teased. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I think you do, so we have time, right?”

God he was so sweet. “Yeah, baby. We have all the time we need. Now sit back and let me make you feel good.”

You pressed up to standing so you could step your legs inside his and kneel in front of him. Once you’d pulled off his shoes and unbuttoned his jeans, he helped you drag them down with a press of his hips up off the couch. God, you wanted to feel that press into you.

You licked your lips to get ready as you pulled them all the way off, along with his underwear. You were positively salivating. From your spot on the floor, you took him into your mouth and began to bob, slowly at first, building up saliva to lubricate your movements before you started to really go for it.

When he put his hand on the back of your head, the moan you let go reverberated through your body. As you peered up at him through your eyelashes, you saw him toss his head back as he pushed one last time into your throat before he stilled both his hips and your head and held you there, telling you how he was "about to come in that pretty little mouth of yours, just gimme a minute cause I don’t want to finish just yet, and oh fuck!" the moment you wiggled your tongue in your mouth and sent him over the edge.

He had just pulled you back up into his lap, pressing your chest against his and kissing you again, completely unfazed by any lingering come he might encounter as he dipped his tongue into your mouth, when the noise returned.

You jumped right off his lap, grabbing for any shirt you could reach and holding it over your chest.

“Jesus, sweet cheeks. You weren’t joking,” Mike said, bending to grab his pants. “I’m checking it out. Stay here.”

You looked around the room, trying to identify the safest place to huddle up. Why you decided standing with your back against the door was it, you couldn’t really say. Mike stepped back to the door on the opposite side of the room. The one you’d never had a chance to open. You had no idea where he was going.

Or how long he’d be gone.

It had to be two hours later, when you woke up to find yourself curled up on the couch, Mike’s shirt all the way on, your feet freezing. Had you really fallen asleep waiting for Mike to come back? Had you bothered to call anyone? What had happened? 

You heard a door open and shut and sat up quickly, expecting to see Mike returned from wherever but instead you saw nothing. No one was there.

You felt a chill near you for a brief moment before it started to warm against the skin on your back, and you felt the breath on your nape. 

“I told you. I’m gonna take real good care of you,” the voice whispered in your ear while invisible fingertips slipped the shirt from your body, pausing for a moment to appreciate that you hadn’t put your bra back on. You arched into the squeeze and wished that when you lifted your arms behind your head, you’d have been able to grab onto the back of his head as he continued to nuzzle into your neck.

Instead you felt a gentle pull and push that had you backed up against the back of the couch, slouched low so that your jeans came off easily enough. Funnily, you hadn’t bothered to re-zip or button them before you fell asleep apparently.

You didn’t have time to think about that any longer because suddenly, the most amazing, ethereal touch was drifting up one thigh and then the other before settling back inside your pussy. And for a few moments, it felt so familiar and you trusted Mike to get you where you needed to go now, the same way he did then.

But he didn’t. What he did instead was put his ghostly mouth right on your flower, slipping the feeling of a tongue deep in your core as if he were a bee seeking the nectar. There was nothing for you to do but enjoy it. There was no head to clasp onto, no hands to reach for, no face to caress. There was only the exquisite feeling of having your pussy eaten, with licks and sucks in the exact right combination to keep you moaning and begging for mercy even though he knew you could take more.

You were right there, almost there, you could feel it and then it was suddenly gone and your eyes sprung open when you heard the voice in your ear.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I could do that all night, but fuck what I really want right now is to bend you over and fuck you. Can I do that? I’ll go back down if that’s what you want, but I would love to make you come all over my cock. Wrapped of course.”

You were dumb-struck, trying to swim back to shore. You’d been so close and you thought it was over, but every word that dripped out of his mouth made you clench around nothing and you wanted to be clenching around something. 

“Fuck yes, Mike. Fuck. Please fuck me,’ you pleaded. 

And you were well rewarded. A gentle, but urgent force shifting you to bend over, knees on the edge of the couch, hands braced against the back. Sounds of crinkly wrapper. Faint rubbery squeaks as he struggled to fit the condom over his erection. Pop of top and cool liquid rubbed into your heat. Tip pressed in, head popped through, length dragging along your insides. In and out and for all you knew there was an actual body behind you, fucking you into the back of this couch like there was no tomorrow. A body you were bucking back against as well.

When you twisted your head back, to try to get a glimpse, to try to see what this guy looked like fucking into you with wild abandon, angling to reach all the good spots, you saw nothing. It was like you were just going through the motions in some kind of fever dream, but it felt so fucking real. 

And it sounded real, too. Because for as many moans and gasps and ohs and fuck yeahs that come out of your mouth, the same number of sensual and mind melting sounds came from him somehow too,

“Fuck, yeah, sweet cheeks. Fuck back onto my cock. Just like that.”

“God Mike, I’m gonna come again.”

“Yeah you are. You’re gonna come all over this cock. Just like that.”

And with that he managed to speed up just enough to send himself careening over the edge, widening and pulsing inside you, so that you, too, got to join him on the trip back to the bottom. From the highest of the highs. You felt like you were floating.

When you woke up again, you were back in Mike’s shirt, a blanket over your lap, and Mike’s arm around you as you rested your head in his lap. Him. Solid Mike. Jeans and socks. Nothing else.

“There you are, sweet cheeks. Have a good nap?’ he grinned down at you.

“I don’t think I had any other choice but to try to recoup some energy after you completely and totally fucked me into the void. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Mike replied in a tone you could tell was meant to dispel your concern. “Sweet cheeks, we have as long as you need.”

It took you a moment, but you finally realized what he was saying.

“Do you have the same gift Walt, uh, the werewolf, has?” you asked, hoping Mike didn’t hear your slip.

“Yeah, sweet cheeks, Marshall and me have the same gift.”

Well, no luck. Wait a minute…

“Who’s Marshall?” you asked.

“Walter. Walter Marshall. Our werewolf,” Mike answered. “Well, former werewolf.”

It was like a record scratch. You knew now why finding a slot with him had proven so hard lately. And you knew his last name.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[zafirosreverie]

The Brightest Star (North x F!Reader)

Every year since I have this blog I have written at least one fanfic for North when Christmas is close, I couldn't let this one be the exception, so I hope you like it.

______________________________

You sighed as you tried to control your shaking hands, you really didn't want to ruin another machine, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't help it, not when he was so close, even if you couldn't see him, you could feel it in your bones, that terrible, ancient fear that stabbed into your skin like a million needles, seeming to inject those horrible shadows into your being.

You shuddered when the memory of that terrible day suddenly came to your mind. You had blocked out most of the details, but you remembered perfectly the feeling of a deathly cold hand wrapping around your throat, stealing all the air from your body, the darkness slowly filling your senses and the screams of children echoing in your ears.

Pitch Black had escaped, but you could still feel his grip on you.

"Are you ok?"

You jumped when you felt a large but warm hand on your shoulder and thanked everything in your mind that you hadn't screamed when you saw blue eyes filled with concern staring at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you lied.

The man didn't seem to believe you, but he was kind enough not to push, so he just gave you a gentle squeeze and took a seat next to you. Internally you were grateful that he was so easy to work with, because you were sure that your teacher would already be questioning you.

You silently passed him the toolbox and returned to your own project, allowing muscle memory to take the reins and letting your memory wander back to that day, though not to Pitch's terrible memories, but to the bright light that you had next to you.

Nicholas St. North, retired bandit, loud but kind man, Santoff Claussen's savior. Again, you didn't remember the details, but you did remember the way the blanket of darkness around you was suddenly broken with the clean cut of a sword, and the cold that seeped into your bones slowly melted with the warmth of a pair of big arms. You felt safe even without knowing who the man holding you was.

North had saved you, he had saved your home, your children, magic, and because of that he had not only earned a place as Ombric's apprentice, but, without knowing it (and you wouldn't admit it), he had earned a permanent place in your heart.

He was a brilliant man, with surprising ingenuity, his inventions surpassed anything that had been created before in the town, and a heart of gold. Ombric had given him a place in his house, and since you were also technically his apprentice, it was a matter of time before you struck up a friendship with the former bandit, to the point that your teacher joked that you couldn't live without him anymore.

Not that you cared, you liked North more than you were willing to admit, and the man in the moon knew that man needed a family, a home to belong to, and you hoped, deep down, that somehow you could be part of it.

You just wished he could see how special he was, that he could see himself the way you and Katerine saw him. Despite his carefree attitude and the confidence he projected in front of others, especially in front of children or Ombric, you knew that guilt and memories of his past life still haunted him, that he often questioned whether he really deserved a place as a guardian.

"Do you think I'm worthy?" he asked

"You are" you smiled, reassuring him "you're a really bright star"

________________________________

You smiled as you watched the elves running around, getting between the tables and getting in the Yetis’ way, who were already too used to it to really bother with them. You loved this time of year, the bright lights, the decorated trees, the colors, the warmth of the fireplaces, the cookies, the gifts, and in the middle of it all, him.

In the end, Ombric had been right, you couldn't stay away from North, so when he formed his alliance with the Yetis, moved to the North Pole and built his magnificent city where his inventions brought joy to everyone, you had naturally been at his side.

It had been a long time since you had finally admitted your feelings for the man, and with Manny's blessing (who had made you age as slowly as North did), you had sworn to share his mission of protecting wonder in children for whatever centuries you had left.

"Mrs. Claus" a cheerful voice sounded behind you.

You smiled as you turned to him. In front of you was Santa Claus himself, as imposing as the legends said, with the years reflected in his face, which still retained its childish warmth and as handsome as the day you met him.

"Mr. Claus" you replied "ready for your big night?"

Christmas Eve was always a busy and difficult night for North, but you knew that, like you, he would never change the children's joy at seeing that Santa had visited them for anything. 

He simply smiled and offered his hand to you, escorting you down the hallway as you headed to the reindeer shed. You never accompanied him on deliveries, preferring to wait for him with a cup of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, but you were always there to watch him leave. He had said you gave him luck, and you never questioned it.

"Tell me, darling" he whispered "do you still think I'm worthy?"

Oh, so it was one of those nights. Despite everything he had experienced, despite how much he had done for children and for the world, there were still echoes of his ghosts walking through his mind. It wasn't as frequent anymore, maybe once every few years, but sometimes, he still needed you to remind him how special he was.

"North" you said softly "look around you. Look at everything you've created, the wonderful ideas you've made come true, look how much this place has grown"

Carefully, you let go of his arm so you could take his hands instead, making him look at you with an intensity and fragility reserved for you.

"But most of all, look at what you have become, everything you represent" you said "You are not only the guardian of wonder, you are more. Christmas is not only about gifts and beautiful lights, it is the memories that are created, the love that is strengthened, the joy that is shared, the illusion that is reborn even in adults. You represent all that. Even when the magic seems lost, people find it again in your figure, in your celebration"

North smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of your palm as you caressed his cheek gently.

"You are the most important guardian, protector of magic" you continued "and you are the brightest star of Manny's new golden age."