#my brother came into her room and told her that when she died he would bury her in a grave instead

[anonomano]

Connection ~ Carlos Sainz

Prolouge

Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader

Part one

synopsis: Carlos is forced into a marriage that he doesn’t want. But he isn’t the only unhappy one…

warnings: smut 18+ eventually, violence, bad writing this is my first time, lack of knowledge about the mafia

Carlos Sainz Sr. had just died. A heart attack. He was a well respected, and feared, man; the leader of the Sainz crime family. He left in his wake the opening of that position.

The man who would take that role is his son, Carlos Jr.

No one has seen Carlos in years, the story is that he fought with his father and left to travel the world. Sleeping his way through each hemisphere. The only one he kept in touch with was his youngest sister, they were inseparable as children and that closeness never really changed. But, after hearing the news of his fathers death, Carlos came home to fill the power vacuum and protect his family.

You were close with your family; your father was Sainz Sr.’s right hand man, and your brothers have worked closely with him for years. But your mother wanted to keep you out of the family business so you really knew nothing about it. You were innocent, so innocent that you were still a virgin, you wanted to wait till marriage. Your mother told you that one day you could find your prince charming, marry him, and spend your lives together.

When Carlos came back he was told that he needed to settle down, get married and have kids. He needed to carry on the family legacy and provide an heir in case anything happens to him. He was very unhappy about this.

“Why?! It doesn’t matter what I’m doing in my own life!” he shouted pacing aroud his fathers, his office. His mother was sitting on the desk watching him. She was still mourning, dressed in black with a veil covering her face, she wore the family pearls that his father gave her when they got married, her makeup and hair done perfectly as it always was.

“Carlos, sweetheart, it matters” she stated “it is no longer just your life, its the family’s” she stood walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders “you need a wife, someone who can take care of you, and a mother for your children” she took off the pearl necklace she was wearing, placing them on the desk “when your father and I got married we were in the same position, but it was the best thing we could have done… we got you” she cradles his face in her hands “and your sisters. We didn’t know each other before we got married but we grew to care about each other”

“Fine” Carlos resigned “Will you give me some time,? I need to go through some things… and think.”

He watches his mother leave the room perfectly put together. He never knew their marriage was arranged; he was always under the impression that they fell in love and got married. Did they even love each other? Was his mother forced into this life? He holds the pearls in his hand, perfectly polished, and rarely worn by his mother.

——————————————————————————

You were doing your hair in the mirror; tying a baby pink bow in. The pink perfectly matches the flowers on your dress. Your make up was done lightly, your mother didn’t like it when you wore too much. Some simple mascara and some pink lipgloss was almost too much for her.

A knock at your door startles you. “Darling?” it was your father “Can I come in?”

“Of course daddy!” you open the door, a smile on your face. “What do you need?” you question, cocking your head to the side like an innocent dog.

“Darling, we need to talk” he sits on your bed patting the place beside him “You know how Mr. Sainz just died?” you nod “Well his son, Carlos, is taking over the family buisness. And he needs someone to…share that responsibility with. We think… that person, should be you. Do you understand?”

“But, I don’t know anything about the family business.” You shake your head “you made sure of that. How could I help?” Your father stands, sighs and glaces around searching for the words.

“Darling…he needs a wife. I would like for you to marry him” you stare at him in shock “now I know your mother has always told you that you would fall in love and get married and maybe you will fall in love but this is about business and I need you to do this for me—“

“okay”

“—I have always provided for you and…okay? okay…okay… great I will tell your mother and send her up here to talk to you about…things” He kisses your forehead “Thank you, Darling, truly” he swiftly leaves the room closing the door behind him leaving you behind dreaming about a kindhearted man.

You knew nothing about Carlos Jr.; you barely knew of his existence. But, if he was anything like his father, who had treated you kindly, you would be happy.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i would like to stop experiencing the full spectrum of human emotions every day please. putting this out into the universe

[sudokuplayer]

-

[entitled-fangirl]

A second wife and a poet.

Cregan Stark x second wife! Blackwood!reader

Summary: The North pressured Cregan to marry again. He hates the thought of it, but at least the reader is someone he's comfortable with.

Warnings: mentions of death, fighting, battles, arguing, cursing, smut (p in v), and all that other stuff

A/n: Based on an ask sort of! This thing is so long I'm so sorry😭

Masterlist

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Cregan did not wish to marry again. The thought terrified him.

But he understood that his wishes were not taken into account when he was born with the Stark name.

Now, he nervously stood outside of the Winterfell walls, awaiting the young woman that would become his second wife. 

Lord Samwell Blackwood's only daughter. 

Cregan was not a religious man, but he prayed that this marriage would be better.

It would help further the alliance. That's what he told himself. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as her carriage came to a halt. 

She stepped out.

She was different than what Cregan had remembered.

The Blackwood hair was obvious, the dark curly locks running down her shoulders effortlessly. He'd seen that same shade atop of Benjicot's head. 

But the manner in which she carried herself was different. Very… un-Blackwood like.

She was nervous.

He'd never seen any of the Blackwoods ever hold an inkling of doubt to them. It was a strange sight.

Not that he could blame her.

She curtsied out of politeness, keeping her head down.

He shook his head, "Y/n."

Her head shot up to look at him. To really look at him.

She remembered him visiting Raventree Hall in their youth. Cregan had found a friendship in her brother, Benjicot, as did their fathers.

This had prompted lots of visits in the past.

Until Rickon Stark died and Cregan took the mantle his father left behind. He was only thirteen.

Now in his twenties, the permanent exhaustion shown in his eyes. The years had been hard to him.

He was nothing like the young boy that had once sparred with her brother.

"Cregan," she greeted back.

Their eyes met.

It was awkward. What do you say to someone you know and yet, don't know at all? Especially when both sides had endured such grief.

"Did-"

"I heard-"

They both stopped, not intending to interrupt one another. 

"Please," Cregan gestured.

"No, I insist that you do."

An unsure breath escaped him. "Did Benji not accompany you?"

It was strange to hear the formidable Lord of Winterfell still refer to her brother as "Benji" as if they were kids again.

"No," she swallowed. "He had… more pressing matters to attend to. I hope you understand."

"Of course," he offered. "I was saddened, you know. To hear of the loss of your father."

The Battle at the Burning Mill had left her father, Samwell, and her cousin, Davos, dead in the dirt alongside many other men who fought by their side. It was a victory, but with victory came loss.

"As I, with your wife, I mean."

He nodded. "Thank you."

Silence swallowed them whole, both at a loss of what else they could possibly say to ease the other.

He took the time to study her, making a note of the way she tapped the tips of each finger to her thumb. A nervous tick, he made a note of. Benji did the same when he grew angry.

"Did your journey fair well-"

"-Yes," she quickly answered.

They both cursed inwardly.

"Right. Perhaps I should show you… Indoors?" He asked awkwardly.

She nodded. "Yes, yes of course."

…

She sat at the desk, laying her head down onto the wooden surface. 

Judging by the way Cregan had only lingered in the doorway before, she had guessed that he hadn't entered the room since the passing of his wife.

Everything in it had remained the same. 

It felt wrong. Like an invasion of privacy to open her own closet and see another woman's dresses in it.

"Shall I get these out for you, my lady?" Her handmaiden tried to ease.

"Leave them," she muttered. "I'll get them out when I'm ready."

"And when will that be?"

She sighed in defeat. "I dunno."

…

What a lousy first impression.

Cregan felt like punching a wall.

What an idiot.

Perhaps he was destined to always have a wife estranged to him. For that's how this one had begun.

It should've been easy. It was Benji's sister, for fuck's sake.

He tried to rack his mind of memories of his time in Raventree Hall. He was a much younger soul then and the memories of it had faded significantly with time.

But he did remember her faintly.

She was always around, but she never bothered them. Never spoke up. She always was somewhere near with a book or a thread and needle. 

He just remembered the essence of her, but that was enough.

And the thought that war had broken the siblings up put an ache in Cregan's heart. He knew she'd be safe with him, but still. Benjicot couldn't even leave his duties long enough for a wedding ceremony. And she had just… accepted that.

This was his second chance. 

He had to do better.

…

At dinner, he tried to ease the tension. 

He cleared his throat, "You can write to your brother. If you wish, that is."

She set her spoon down gently and folded her hands into her lap. "That's kind. It would ease his mind to know I made my journey safely."

He grunted and took another sip of his broth. He tried to think of anything else. 

But she spoke up again, "I was waiting to ask but… perhaps I should just ask."

He tilted his head down, "Yes?"

"Your son… he lived, didn't he?"

He could tell she shook a little as she asked. "He did. He eats in his room."

"Oh." 

"Did you… Did you want to meet him?"

She pauses and a genuine smile breaks out on her face. "I'd be hard to be Lady Stark if I didn't."

He hangs his head in mock shame and he chuckles. "Right. That was foolish of me to ask."

"No, I understand." She shifted in her seat. "You're hesitant to replace his mother. You don't have to explain that to me."

"It's not that," he countered. "Well, not exactly. It's confusing."

"Alright?"

"My…" he paused. "Arra was one of my greatest friends in this world. But she was no wife. Our friendship grew to duty, and the love we shared for other another faded quickly. We seemed to argue more than we got along towards the end. It was… disheartening."

"I see."

He looked up at her and pushed himself to continue. "I fear you and I are not an even match."

A sudden jolt was felt in the pit of her stomach. "What?"

His eyes widened as he realized his choice of words, "No. No. I just meant… gods." He rubbed his forehead. "I have… experienced all the wonders of a man and wife already and you have not." Cregan looked around in thought. "Just seems unfair to you. In many ways."

She considered his words. He was right, she couldn't deny that. "Do you believe my brother had any doubt in this betrothal?"

Cregan's brows came together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Everyone thought him so eager to sign me away, but that's anything but the truth. He knows you, Cregan. If it were any other man wishing for my hand, he would have denied it. Not you."

That brought an unusual warmth to his chest. "Why?"

The ends of her lips quirked up into a smile. "He said he'd never seen an equal opponent such as you. And only an equal opponent would be worthy of something so precious to him."

"Do you agree with him?" Cregan's voice whispered.

"I'm starting to."

The silence that had once been full of tension began to ease into one of comfort. 

"All in your family are true warriors as well, my lady. Only a fool would deny that. Especially your father and… and your cousin, you said?"

She nodded, "Yes, yes, my cousin, Davos. Hard to think that we've considered the battle a victory with such a devastating loss."

He hummed, his interest shifting when speaking of something he may have insight on: war. "The Brackens lost family alike."

She scoffed. "All for a few more feet of territory? For stones?"

"Careful," he warned. "They didn't fight for stones. You're smarter than that. What did they fight for? Truly?"

She thought about it carefully before giving in to what answer she knew he was looking for. "Power."

"Exactly. Your father died for the chance of future Blackwoods gaining greater power. That's much nobler a death than stones, don't you think?"

"He died for Benjicot, then?"

"And you," he offered.

That struck a nerve in her. "Then why do I sit safely behind the walls of Winterfell when I should be fighting by my brother's side for future Blackwoods?"

There it was.

He knew she'd have Blackwood fire in there somewhere.

He only had to light it.

"Do you want to wage wars, sweet girl?"

"No," she countered. "But if it must be done."

"Spoken like a true noble," he chuckled. "It's not nearly the same, I know, but the Stark forces may appreciate your support. If you'll bless us with it."

She looked confused. 

"Please tell me you wish to become a Stark. I cannot bare to think I'm forcing you into a marriage you'll be unhappy in. I've done it before and I won't do it again."

She felt a twist in her stomach at the tough man's voice faltering. She breathed in sharply, "I… I think I do."

Cregan couldn't accept that. "Please," he urged her to continue.

"I… I've been caught on the idea of younger you." She tilted her head to the side in thought as she stared at her bowl. "I'd happily marry my brother's best friend. But… the Lord of Winterfell? I dunno."

"He is one and the same," he protested.

"Is he?"

Cregan had never been rendered speechless in his life, yet there was a first for everything.

She let the silence set before speaking up, "Cregan was a boy with the very essence of life in him. I always thought he'd become a brave knight. He had a fire to him that you so rarely see. But Lord Stark? He has duty written into his very skin. The fire seems to have been tamed by sacrifice. He doesn't want a second wife. Nor do I blame him."

"I never said that!"

"You and I both know if Arra had birthed you one more heir, you wouldn't marry again at all."

"Stop." He commanded.

She faltered, pausing her words at his tone.

"It is true that I marry out of pure encouragement from my council. But that does not mean the end of our friendship. Please don't let it be."

"Cregan, you and I were never friends. You marry me with the memories of friendship you have with my brother. You know I am not him."

"I do!" He yelled. He softened. "I do. You're not like him at all."

That weighed on the two of them like bricks. 

She stared down at her bowl again. "I wish you'd have known my cousin, Davos, closely. My father used to say that the gods placed twins in separate wombs to keep us from ending the world." She laughed lightly, "He and I were inseparable."

"I heard Lord Davos only loved sparring and getting into trouble."

"Do you believe he only managed trouble on his own?" She questioned. "He was fiery on his own, yes, but I only encouraged it. I should have been there. At the border. I could've… I could've kept the battle from starting."

Cregan scoffed lightly, "There was no way to keep an inevitable battle from beginning."

"But I might have prolonged it all further," she tried. "Kept the tension just a while longer."

"Until what? Until it is your brother losing his head? Or worse, you?"

"Yes."

She wasn't that nervous girl from before. No. She was indeed a Blackwood. There was no question about that.

He sighed and clenched his fist. "We wed tomorrow. I'd rather my betrothed sleep well tonight with hopeful wishes rather than regrets and guilt."

She stood. "Maybe you're marrying the wrong woman then."

He watched her walk out, completely stunned.

It reminded him too much of Arra.

…

The tension hadn't relieved itself if the glare in Cregan's eyes were any indicator.

It was a steady glare. More one that seemed to study her, trying to figure out what makes her tick. 

Seems she was the very thing that made him tick.

She had glared back at the beginning of the ceremony, insistent on giving back every look that was sent her way, but slowly, that had changed to something else.

Her nerves returned.

He didn't notice at first, but he saw the way her hand shook so violently she almost didn't get the cup to her lips without spilling the liquid inside.

He was wracked with guilt.

He had once again forced a woman to "love" him.

"I've called off the bedding ceremony," he spoke lowly. "If that's any help."

"It's not."

He was shocked by the way she had so easily pushed away his attempt to ease her. Like she'd kicked the last leg Cregan was standing on. 

"Get up."

"What?"

"Get up. We're going."

She stared in shock. "Cregan, forgive me. I was-"

"C'mon. I'm firm on this."

When she didn't move, he grabbed her by her bicep, yanking her up and beginning to pull her through the dining hall. Both ignored the cheers and chants of what the people believed would happen in the couple's private chambers.

Once dragged to his room, she pulled her arms from his vice grip and smoothed out her dress. "Is that what you wanted? A newly wedded wife in tears? Because you're awfully close to it, Lord Stark."

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "I'm not sleeping with you tonight. I refuse."

"What?"

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight. I refuse." He repeated with more force. He ran a hand through his hair. 

She shrugged off his cloak that he had placed on her during the ceremony and threw it aside. "You won't even let me perform my duties because you don't want to fulfill yours?"

"Y/n," he warned. "That's not how I meant it."

"I can't read you. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Gods, you're insufferable."

"-and you're blind."

"Oh! Enlighten me, then, oh great Lord Stark."

"I loved you. I still do."

She spun around to face him.

Cregan stood firmly. His eyes spoke more than his words did. He was insistent on having her trust him. 

"I don't believe that," she scoffed.

"Oh really?" He walked to his bureau and pulled out a small wooden box. He threw it onto the bed. "Have a look for yourself."

She looked him up and down before hesitantly walking over to the box. Sitting next to it, she pulled it open and examined the contents. 

Letters.

"What is this?"

"Every letter I tried to write to you the day I became the Lord of Winterfell. I had… foolish dreams of maybe having you as a wife. I was only a boy then."

She sat straight. "Why keep them?"

He shrugged. "I'm sentimental, I suppose. I had tried to burn them- many times, in all honestly. Couldn't bring myself to do it."

"May I?"

He nodded, anxiety filling his gut. 

Her nimble fingers picked up the letter that sat on top.

"There's a few others in there," he informed her as he sat on the other side of the bed. "All regarding you, of course. Letters to your brother, your father, you know."

She unraveled the latter despite shaky fingers. 

My loyalist friend Benjicot, I heard of the passing of your father. You have my deepest condolences. I understand all too well the feelings of honor and duty that have now been placed on your shoulders despite the grief that already weighs them down.  Regarding your sister, perhaps she may find a home in Wint

The letter stopped there, and she looked up at him.

"Some are… more recent, actually."

She nodded. "I see that."

He leaned to her, reading the letter with a light blush. "I'm not very well-spoken in writing, so I make lots of drafts."

"And they're all here?"

"Yes. Yes, all of them." He tapped the side of the box with his large hand. "Well, most of them."

She decided not to press the matter, placing the letter back and picking up an older one from deeper in the box.

This one had much sloppier handwriting, the page evidently aged.

Lady Blackwood, As the Leader of the North, I want you and Benji to visit as often as possible. I might be a lord, but I will always have time for the Blackwoods. Perhaps I can even teach you archery like you have so desperately wanted. Everyone knows I'm better at it than Benji is. Cregan

"Why did you never send them?"

He scoffed. "Read that again and tell me that was ever appropriate to send as the Warden of the North."

"You were a child then, as was I. It's in good favor."

"It's unbecoming of a cold northern lord, though." He reached out to take the letter from her but she held it out of his reach.

"Only yesterday, you told me this boy and the man in front of me were one and the same."

"And they are," he urged.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"It's not!"

"Prove it."

He stared with an unreadable expression. 

She was insufferable, stubborn, witty, gracious, giving, honest…

He crashed his lips onto hers.

She let out a small yelp in surprise, but just as quickly melted into him, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm.

"This," she panted again his lips. "This is a bad idea."

He kissed her again, then pulled away just enough to speak, pressing his forehead to hers. "What is?" 

"Loving each other."

He grinned. "I don't care."

She groaned and moved back to him, capturing his lips again. 

He pushed her onto the bed, throwing the wooden box onto the ground with a loud crash before getting on top of her. 

She tried to sit up at the sound, breaking away from him for only a moment, "you could've torn them."

"Why does it matter?"

"I want to save them."

He chuckled, "Lovely woman, you'd rather save scraps of paper from a man's youth than indulge in your desires with the very man that wrote them?"

She ignored the butterflies in her stomach as Cregan's thumb brushed over her cheek. "I never said that."

Cregan tilted his head in teasing disbelief. "Then tell me what you want."

"I want-" she paused. What did she want? Mere moments ago, she wanted to return to Raventree Hall and be rid of the northerner. Now, she wanted to bask in anything that he gave her. "I want Arra's dresses out of my wardrobe."

Cregan blinked, clearly taken out of the moment. He sat up. "What?"

She sat up with him. "You may keep them if you wish, but I'm tired of the reminder of her presence every morning, noon, and night."

"Consider it done," he urged. "I'll have them moved immediately. Any of it you want will be gone within the hour."

"No, I don't-" she sighed. "I don't want her gone, per se. She was a part of you, and therefore a part of us. She's given you a son. To rid Rickon of his mother's memory and you of your first wife should be considered a crime."

"But if I live in the past, I can't enjoy what's in front of me."

"Aye, but you're not doing that," she grinned. "You've got a pretty girl in your bed. Seems like you're enjoying the present."

He didn't grin back, only sighing softly and nodding. "I hope you do forgive me. For forcing this."

"Cregan, you did not force it. Benji gave me a choice." When he gawked at her, she continued. "He encouraged me to accept, yes. But he did not force my hand. I wanted to do this. I wanted to marry you."

"You wanted to please your brother and I or you wanted to be Lady Stark?" He questioned.

"I wanted to be the wife of the man I once knew when he was a boy."

He accepted her answer happily, kissing her once again. This time, it was soft and careful.

She reached her hands up into his hair, tugging delicately at the dark strands. His breath hitched and he brought one of his own hands up as well. His hand gripped over hers. He pulled his hand into a fist, forcing hers as well, and encouraged her to tug harshly on his hair. She took the encouragement, beginning to yank. 

He felt a shiver go down his spine and his mouth opened in a moan. She grinned and took that as an invitation to kiss down his jaw. He tilted his head up to give her room to do so.

"I… I lied," he whispered as his hands roamed over his waist. "I think I do want you tonight."

She nipped at a spot under his neck. "I think I want you too."

He grunted at that and pulled her away from him. "Tell me what you want. Truly."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, "I've had a first wedding night. I want you to have yours the way you want it."

"I… I don't know what I want."

He absentmindedly rubbed at her hip. "Then perhaps we'll try things until you decide."

She nodded. "Th…things? There are multiple things to do?"

He pulled her head back a bit by her hair and kissed her pulse point. "Many."

"But how…"

He couldn't lie and say he hadn't been yearning for some kind of release these last few years. Between Arra's pregnancy, the birth, and the years after her death, Cregan had not laid with another woman. He found himself yearning desperately for touch, of any sort really.

And how lucky was he that hers was so soft. 

He pushed her down on the bed softly. "Trust me?"

"In every lifetime."

Overcome with lust, he pressed his lips to hers again, starting back up the heat in their stomachs that they had played with so eagerly. 

Cregan reached up the tunic on his back, pulling it over his head. He tried to connect their lips again but she kept him from doing so.

She trailed a hand down his shoulder and to his bicep, taking in the sight of his bare torso. Her fingers paused at the feeling of a scar on his arm. Her fingers faltered. 

"It's a rather nasty scar," he whispered.

"My brother gave it to you."

"Aye," His eyes lit up. "He pushed me into a stream and-"

"-and you fell on a rock. I remember my father being so angry with him."

He kissed her yet again, and the two continued as before with a deeper connection than they had thought.

He pulled her skirt up with one hand and caressed the inside of her thigh. 

She jerked at the feeling in uncertainty. "What d-"

"Just tell me how it feels, alright?"

When she nodded, he spoke again, "Sit up for me. We'll get this dress off of you."

…

"Cre… Cregan…"

"I know. You're doing good," he panted into her ear. 

"I… there's… a feeling…"

"I know. I know, it's alright."

He pushed down on her stomach as he thrusted deeper into her, making her moan and tears pull at her eyes. 

"Give in to it. It's okay."

"I can't… I… I'm scared…" she sobbed lightly.

The hand on her stomach moved around her body, arching her back up to him. He held her closely against him in an attempt to comfort her. "I've got you." He placed open mouth kisses on her neck.

She scratched at his back harshly as she reached her peak. A whine left her lips.

"I've got you," he panted as his hips slowed when his peak neared. "I've got you."

She felt overstimulated and exhaustion filled her body. She closed her eyes for just a moment. Just a moment.

…

She woke up to the feeling of sunlight on her skin. Her eyes creaked open.

She groaned at the ache between her legs, a slight shake in the muscles of her legs. 

But what caught her attention was the tray that laid on the other side of the bed. A full breakfast sat where Cregan had supposedly once laid. 

She sat up and picked up the note that lay on the tray. 

My beautiful wife,  I hope you'll take the words of a poorly worded poet to heart, for this is a letter that I finally am sending you. No more drafts hidden in boxes and no secrets to keep. My first draft shall always be my last when addressed to you. I dare say I despise arguments. I'm not as highly tempered as your brother, and I find that I don't run hot. I suppose that it's the chill of the North that has done that. Regardless, may this be our last fight for a long while. I have had Arra's clothing removed from all closets, and the traces of her are now few. Her portrait stays in the library and her remains in the crypts, but the greatest things she left behind were my boy and a gash in my heart. I believe you'll care for both of those things greatly.  But you'll not live in that room. You'll find your dresses in my wardrobe now. I don't believe I can part from you for too long now that I have you. This will be my first and last letter to you, for now you'll hear everything from my lips alone.  But I thought you deserved at least one letter after all these years. Your Cregan

"I told them to fetch me when you woke up," he commented from the doorway.

She gasped at his sudden appearance, "Good morning."

"It's after high noon, I dare say."

"Is it?" She looked at the window. "I'm sorry. It was not my intention to-"

"-Are you alright?" He interrupted.

Her brows furrowed. "I'm fine."

"I've never had a woman succumb to sleep like you did. Felt I did something wrong." He rubbed at his shoulder anxiously.

"No, it felt… it felt good. Quite good," she nodded. She took into account that she was still naked in his bed, but she was rather clean. "Did you…"

He flushed. "Oh. Um.. no. No, I didn't. Don't worry."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's not that I didn't want to," he tried to explain then backtracked. "I mean… you fell asleep and once I knew you were alright, I um… I couldn't do that to you."

"That's," she hummed. "That's noble of you."

He chuckled. "It's the least I could do for you. And the note?" He asked to change the subject.

She held it up and reread it. "Thank you. For… all of it."

He stepped to the side and kissed her head, "Anything for my beautiful wife."

"And you, my poet, Lord Stark."

He gripped her chin and forced her head up to look at him. "Don't let the others know," he teased.

"I dare not. This is something I want all to myself."

"Then you have me- heart, mind, and body."

.......................................

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[alicentofhightower]

the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

-

Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made. 

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.  

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world. 

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure. 

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about. 

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up. 

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things. 

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength. 

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded. 

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.” 

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that. 

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was. 

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone. 

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose. 

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know. 

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile. 

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared. 

Y/N gagged at the reminder. 

-------------------------------------------------

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general. 

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership. 

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover. 

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened. 

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up. 

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand. 

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend? 

A lot. That’s what it was. 

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed. 

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit. 

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too. 

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings. 

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you. 

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling. 

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta. 

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.” 

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago. 

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him. 

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer. 

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel. 

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything. 

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved. 

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair. 

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave. 

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Two

Featuring : (future) Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Amarantha is dead and you finally get to go home. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You felt your magic return to you the day Amarantha died. It was such an ordinary day.

You were in your cabin, that Eris had found for you the moment your wings were burned. You couldn't return to the Night Court without putting yourself in danger of Amarantha finding you, so you stayed in Autumn.

You were cooking when it washed over you, feeling as if you could finally breath again. You tested your abilities, seeing how much you could do. You were able to engulf the entire room in darkness when you were satisfied it returned.

You lost hope 10 years prior, when one of the local villagers said that all of Amarantha's court was bound to Under the Mountain. That meant you wouldn't be getting anymore visits from Eris, and even in the 40 years before that, those were few and far between. You were lucky Autumn Court was on her "good" side, because she never looked too deep into the woods. From what Eris told you, Rhys had taken her to bed.

You knew Rhys, and you could guess that he did it to keep her eyes from turning towards the Night Court. Towards you. Or Velaris.

So, you lived your simple life. The cabin Eris gave you came with a horse, that you would take to and from the local village. You were able to maintain a garden. And the best thing about living in Autumn was you never had to brace a bad winter or a sweltering summer. You missed the seasons dearly, you missed Solstices and Starfalls. Most of all, you missed your family.

It still haunted you that Rhys was taking on the burden of the Night Court by himself. You wished you could be there with him.

And, the rest of your family was running Velaris. Without you. You had to wonder if Azriel and Mor ended up together, being trapped in the beautiful, romantic city all these years. You wouldn't if Azriel regretted leaving you that night. Or if he was happy you were gone.

One thing you couldn't get over, even after all these years, was that he left you. Sure, you could handle yourself, but he left you. His best friend. Even when you were young, you always wanted to be around Azriel. Once Cassian and Rhys stopped tormenting him, you were allowed to be around him. He was always the first one to show you techniques with his sword, or new flying maneuvers. But then Mor came alone, slept with Cassian, and that was it. Azriel had been pining after her since then. You weren't resentful of it until he left you the night everything went to shit. When you lost your magic and your ability to fly.

Even know, when the wind was raging in the forest, you teared up. You wish there was some way to be able to fly again. But you grew up in the Illyrian war camp with your mother and brother. You knew what destroyed tendons looked like. There was no hope. Even after Eris and his healers did everything they could to heal them as best as they could. The membrane was in tact, albeit thinner than normal, and you had full function of stretching them in and out. But, the proper strength to fly would never be resorted.

At least you had your magic back. And you waited for Eris to come find you, to placate his father enough that he had time to tell you what happened. You assumed, knowing the depletion of magic was tied to Amarantha, that she died. You really hoped that was the case. You could go home. You could see your brother. You could ignore Azriel for the rest of your life. It never even occurred to you that you could probably winnow back home. You hadn't been able to do it for a long time.

Instead of Eris bursting through the door that afternoon, it was shadows, followed by a heaving Azriel trying to catch his breath.

"(Y/N)!" Azriel exclaimed, bounding over to you. Before you had a chance to step away, he wrapped you in an embrace. One you couldn't help but melt into. You might be mad at him, but after 50 years of being apart, you were happy to see him.

You pulled away, seeing tears in Azriel's eyes as he looked you over. His eyes landed on your wings. "What did they do to you?" He asked, searching your eyes.

"After you left me that night, three of Beron's sentinels burned my wings." You said, taking a deep breath.

"I need to write a note, and then you can take me home. Is Rhys there yet?" You asked.

"I don't know, I've spent all day having my shadows look for you. I was hoping you made it to Winter... I didn't think you would still be here." He said, pausing as you started to write.

You wrote to Eris, letting him know that you would be going back to the Night Court. You also told him that you would support him if he ever needed anything. You tucked the note into an envelop and left it on the counter.

"Okay... can you winnow us?" You asked, holding out your hand.

He gazed over you again, unsaid words clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). For everything. For leaving you. For not coming to get you-"

"Azriel.. please.. take me home. And then we can talk about it." You said.

He nodded, staring at you for a few moments before he took you hand and darkness enveloped you both.

Rhys was pissed.

He may have been happy to see his family, and to tell Mor and you about how he found his mate (even if she was with Tamlin), but the instant he saw your wings, he knew something was wrong. Before even asking the rest of his family what happened, he pulled you into a room alone.

After recapping what happened Under the Mountain, and more tearful hellos, he asked you to sit down. "Tell me what happened." He said.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. "That night that Amarantha took your magic, and you closed the borders to Velaris, I got stuck in Autumn. Azriel had left to go help Mor with something. I couldn't even winnow to the Night Court borders." You told him what happened with the sentinels, how Eris found you, and then watched as Rhys settled into the quiet deathly rage.

"He did this to you?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

"No," you quickly corrected. "Eris helped me." There were tears in your eyes now. "He- Let me just tell you how it started..."

Eris brought you to a cabin on the outskirts of the Autumn borders, close to a village but far enough that no one would look for you here. He had his best healers come to help heal you, but with their lack ox experience repairing wings, they couldn't completely heal them. You back even still had scarring on it from how hot the sentinels burned through them.

When Eris couldn't stay because Amarantha sent for all High Lords and their heirs, he had a healer stay with you. Until you were back to your normal health. And then, he offered to help you get to the Night Court. Said he would personally take you to the Moonstone Palace. But he warned you how cruel Amarantha already was, and how she was taking more and more people prisoner (to be part of her "court") Under the Mountain. You chose to stay in the cabin. If you couldn't go back to Velaris, you didn't want to go to the Night Court. Not when your brother was actively trying to get Amarantha to avoid it. The return of the Lady of the Night Court would surely set her eyes towards you. And Rhys would pay the price.

Eris would visit you as often as he could. Since Autumn was on Amarantha's good side, she let Eris and his brothers out more. When he was able to step away from the Forest House, he would visit you. Bring you more supplied, new clothes, sometimes even new furniture or paint to refresh the cabin. All the while, he kept you up to date on what was happened. One day, you asked why he was helping you.

"Because I can... and it was my family's sentinels that harmed you. You had no one else around. If you were to die out here, what would I tell you brother? It would have caused an even worse relationship between us. And I'm hoping to have his support when I overthrow my father. If we can tackle Amarantha first... and.. I'm hoping one day you can counsel your brother to help me as well." He explained.

"So you're helping me for your own gain?" You asked.

"I'm helping you because it's the right thing to do... and I've grown fond of this little escape." He answered.

That's how it was until three courts tried to rebel, and Amarantha barred anyone from leaving Under the Mountain. Even Eris. You wondered why he hadn't shown up when you went into the village to grab some more food, when you overheard the rumors.

"He truly helped you? He never hurt you?" Rhys asked.

You shook your head. "No, he never hurt me. He never tried anything. He... was kind. And caring. And I owe him my life." You said, looking up at Rhys.

He nodded, thinking for a moment. He paused his pacing and looking at you dead in the eyes. "Azriel left you?" He asked, seeming to recall what you first told him.

"...Yes." You said after hesitating.

"I'm going to kill him." He growled.

Your heart skipped a beat, knowing Rhys might just well kill Azriel for putting you in harms way.

"Wait- no. Please.. go easy on him." You said.

He paused, taking a deep breath. Darkness was pooling around his ankles. You could tell he was trying to reel it in. "I'm going to beat him to a pulp."

Better than killing him, you thought. You relaxed for a moment before Rhys rushed out from the door. You chased after him to see the first blow to Azriel's face. Then to his gut. Then to his legs to knock him on the floor. All while Rhys growled out in between each punch,"You. Left. My. Sister. In. Autumn?!"

Azriel didn't even fight back.

Part Three

A/N: Another tough one... I think this will have 1 or 2 more parts... which I probably won't get to writing until Sunday or Monday night (I know, i'm sorry!) Thank you all so much for your support!

Tagging: @feiwelinchen @circe143 @sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @buttermilktea11 @tele86 @yearninglustfully @bunnyredgirl

Main Masterlist

[goosewithtwoos]

SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Bob x Reader

Summary: Phoenix left some aphrodisiac brownies at your house - you accidentally eat one

DISCLAIMER: yeah i got no fwicking clue how aphrodisiacs work so this is more of a crack post than anything don’t take it too seriously

“You brought brownies!” You squeal, running up to hug your best friend.

Phoenix was carrying a small box of brownies that were perfectly decorated with powdered sugar. Your mouth was watering just looking at them.

“Hands off!” She cries, holding them over her head. “It’s a gift for someone. I’m going to a bachelorette party later.”

You pout. “Not even one?”

“Not even one.”

The two of you head inside, catching up on things and discussing plans for your next official leave. You were trying to schedule a trip with everyone down to Sanibel island off the coast of Florida but Hangman was being difficult and said the time he’d spent in Pensacola had been enough to last a lifetime.

You helped Phoenix get ready for the party, doing her makeup for her. Having grown up with four older brothers, Phoenix had never had time to play with makeup. You didn’t mind - in fact, you loved doing makeup for other people.

After about 45 minutes, a phone rang. Phoenix picks hers up only to find that it was your phone that was ringing.

You grab it off the vanity and check the caller ID.

Bob.

You show your phone to Phoenix who grins wildly. She’s known about your crush on her WSO ever since she had introduced you.

“Hello?” You ask tentatively. It was rare that he’d call you. Typically, he’d call someone else and ask them to ask you something.

“Hey, uh, sorry this is weird for me to call. I was just wondering -“

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You looked at Phoenix, silently pleading with her for help.

‘Put him on speaker’ She mouths. You quickly do so, holding your breath lest he notices the change.

“I have your credit card. You left it at the Hard Deck last night and Penny gave it to me. I was wondering when would be a good time to drop it off?”

‘Right now!’ Phoenix mouths.

‘Right now?’ You mouth back, looking at the state of your room and yourself in the mirror. She nods frantically, turning around and quickly reorganizing your things back into the drawers.

“Umm…well I’m home right now if you wanted to bring it over.” You hoped you came across at least slightly suave instead of a panicking mess.

“Oh!” Bob sounded caught off guard. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to leave it in your mailbox?”

Phoenix whips her head around. ‘No!’

“No? I mean, no! I’ve uh…been having a lot of mail theft recently. You can never been too careful.”

Bob hummed. “Mail theft is a huge deal. You should report it. I remember my sister had a problem with that for a while too.”

Bless. his. heart.

“Yeah…” Your voice died off, trying to figure out if this actually was real life or simply some dream. Bob was coming over. Your heart fluttered at the idea. “So! Um, when should I expect you?”

“Maybe like 30 minutes? I just left the PX and rush hour is kinda crazy at this time of day.”

Phoenix was grinning wickedly. She gave you two thumbs up and the look in her eyes told you that maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.

You made a noise of agreeance in the back of your throat. “Sounds perfect.”

The next 30 minutes of your life we’re some of the most stress inducing you’d ever faced. You wanted everything to be perfect. Phoenix had high tailed it out of there, nearly forgetting her purse, and you sped cleaned the whole house like the president was coming to visit.

Sure, he was probably just going to come to the door, drop off your card, and leave but the small glimmer of hope you held made you clean. Maybe this time you’d actually have the balls to ask him to come inside.

A soft knock at your door announced his arrival. You scrambled from the couch, brushing down your shirt and fixing your hair before answering the door.

“Hey!” He choked out, taking in your figure. Your flight suit was pretty conservative along with you cammies. It was a rare occasion for him to see you in your civilian clothes. “This is for you.”

You took the card from him, careful to not accidentally brush his hand with yours.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I could have forgotten this.” You quickly shove the card into your back pocket for safe keeping.

He quickly shoved his hands in his front pocket and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say and didn’t trust yourself to not randomly blurt out an ‘I love you’, so you settled for an awkward silence.

After you both had stared at each other for far too long, he gave you a quick nod and started to pivot away. “Well, guess I’ll see you back at in on Monday.”

Damn it, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to invite him in and talk and maybe watch a movie and hold hands a little. Not have him walk away after less than a minute on your doorstep.

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, surprising not only him but also yourself. “I have to give you something as an appreciation. I probably have a beer or something.” Fucking dumbass.

He turned back towards you, removing his hands from his pockets.

“I won’t take a beer but I will take a water.”

You stepped out of the doorframe allowing room for him to enter. “I do in fact also have water.”

He entered and then followed as you walked to the kitchen. It was small but good enough to make borderline decent meals. You weren’t much of a chef anyways and ate at the chow hall more than you’d care to admit.

“Do you want ice and a glass or just a bottle?” You ask, turning to the cupboard.

“Just a glass, no ice.” He said, taking in your decor.

This wasn’t a permanent lodging, just for the time you’re stationed here, but you still liked to decorate a little bit. Felt more like something you could call home.

You poured a glass and handed it to him, brushing his fingers as you did.

Your heart picked up from the slight touch and you cursed yourself for being such a child. You were a Naval aviator, you should be able to touch someone without having your mind go completely blank. Yet alas. Your mind was gone the moment his fingers touched yours.

He took a sip, then motioned with his chin to a tupperware sitting on the counter. “You just make those?”

You tilted your head, confused on how the hell a tupperware ended up on your counter. You went to inspect it only to find they were the brownies Phoenix had brought over for the bachelorette party. She must have forgotten them in her hurry to leave.

“Uh, these actually aren’t even mine.” You admit, wondering if it would be worth calling her back for them or not. She’d probably already be there by now. Guess if she really wanted them she would have called and asked. “Phoenix made them. She stopped by earlier and I guess she left them.”

His shoulders slumped a little bit at the news.

“But it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna come back for them any time soon and it would be a real shame to waste them.” You quickly follow up. The look on his face was worth it. You didn’t really want a brownie but you knew he wouldn’t eat one if you didn’t.

You pulled two paper towels and grabbed a brownie for the both of you, handing one to him and smelling yours. God, it smelled so good. Were these really made by Phoenix? They smelled like they were made by chocolatiers from some fancy Paris bakery.

“To Bob, for returning my card.” You said as a mock toast. He raised his brownie in turn before you took a bite in tandem.

Holy shit - they tasted even better than they smelled.

You quickly finished yours before grabbing a glass of water for yourself.

Bob stayed for a while, chatting in your kitchen about everything and anything. The conversation was completely normal so it was surprising when you felt the intense need to get off.

Your heart rate picked up rapidly and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your replies slowly turned from interesting, full and comprehensive sentences, to a mix of ‘mhm’ and ‘oh yeah’. God, why couldn’t you get control of yourself?

“Do you wanna go sit down?” You gasp out, fingers gripping the cup for dear life.

“Yeah, good idea.” Bob was looking much more pale than usual but you chocked that up to your terrible lighting and white countertops.

The two of you sat in the living area, a far enough distance from each other on the couch to make it awkward. You pulled your knees to your chest, hoping that the squeezing of your thighs would be able to help alleviate some of the feeling.

What was happening? You typically had self control but this was excessive. God, you needed a cold shower.

“So - uh - how’s your sister?” You also, trying to think of the least sexy topic.

“Good.” His reply was short and quick. His chest was heaving slightly, looking like he had just run a mile. Was he feeling the same thing you were? His composure seemed to be dissolving just like yours. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit warm. Do you mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his sweater, lightly tugging at the bottom.

You screamed internally. “Of course.” Fuck, once he mentioned heat, your whole body exploded and you needed to take a polar plunge.

Even once his sweater was off, he kept readjusting.

“I’ll turn a fan on.” The moment you stood, you knew something was really wrong. Your legs were like jello. Your heart was racing as your body ached with desperation.

The fan did little to help you cool off and the feeling was simply just getting worse. You had been talking about something, taxes maybe? Something that should have been a complete turn off but Bob was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.

Your voice trailed off when you realized he wasn’t even paying attention to what you were saying and you couldn’t even remember where your sentence had died off.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m trying to listen, I don’t…” He was audibly panting, adjusting his collar. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

The heat between your thighs was like nothing you’d ever felt before. “Mhm.” You manage to nod, trying desperately to not go insane. You needed his hands on you, like, yesterday.

In an instant, he pulled you into a lip bruising kiss, bucking his hips the moment you straddled him. He was so hard already, you were surprised by how needy he was before anything had even happened.

You kissed like the world was going to end. Like you needed each other like some sort of drug.

His hands found your waist, massaging your sides. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down on his, relishing the sounds he made. When his fingers slipped under your shirt, cold hands touching your warm skin, you gasped into his mouth.

“I need you so bad.” He whined.

“Say it again.” The pounding in your chest increased rapidly at his admission.

“I - I need you. Oh my God.” He cried as you bit down on the soft spot beneath his ear. “You can’t keep doing that.”

You smirk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive spot. “This?”

His whole body shook as he pulled you down tighter against him. “Y-yeah, that.” You couldn’t tell if the movement of your hips was your doing or his strong hands, pushing and pulling you back and forth.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He begs.

“God, yes, please.” You reply. His hands quickly pulled your t-shirt up and over, throwing it somewhere across the room.

Seeing your chest turned him feral. In an instant, his eyes darkened and all inhibition was gone.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, cupping your chest through your bra and squeezing. “I could die in between these.”

“Fuck me first.” You pant. You felt like your whole body was on fire. You needed friction, for him to touch you, anything.

He leaned forward and licked from the center of your chest slowly up your neck. You’d never had anyone else do anything like that but it was hot all the same. A strong hand lightly gripped your throat, pressing down enough to feel something but not enough to cut off any blood flow.

“God, you’re gorgeous. Could keep you on my lap forever.” He growls.

Something about the possessiveness made your mind short circuit.

“Robert.” You moan, pressing yourself down again. Every nerve was on fire. You were on fire. You were going to burn and you were going to burn with him.

“I got you, honey.” His southern drawl slowly making its way into his speech. You’d always been interested in saving a horse and riding a cowboy, and now seemed like a good time to try it.

You smashed your mouths back together and began pawing at the bottom of his shirt. You wanted it off but you didn’t want to peel yourself away from him.

He made quick work of the buttons on your shorts, pulling down the zipper and pressing two fingers against you. It felt so good - too good - and you needed him now.

"Please, please, please." You were begging a man, and you couldn't care less.

“I got you baby, you don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you so good.” His fingers were inside you, working you open, thumb pressing against your clit.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony and pleasure as he presses against your g-spot.

“Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else. You were riding his fingers like a pro, swiveling your hips and grinding down like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“I need…I need you in me.” You moan out.

“I am in you.” He teases, biting down on your shoulder.

This cocky little son of a - “Robert Jameson Floyd.” You whine again. You’d never been reduced to whining and begging before but suddenly, it was the only thing you could do.

He groans when you call him by his full name. His fingers pull out, tapping your folds a few times before being pulled from your shorts completely. He lifts them and - damn him - sticks them into his mouth, acting as if it was the most delicious thing he’d had all week. “You need to take these off.”

Brilliant idea.

You stand, quickly removing your shorts and panties in a fluid move. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes them down. His boxers came off almost immediately afterwards and your eyes went wide.

You’d known he was pretty. Hell, he was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen, but you didn’t realize that every inch of him was going to be pretty. And big.

You swallow, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was panting, looking at you and you realized you didn’t feel self conscious at all. You felt good, safe, and sexy. You’d probably ask to marry him if he could fuck you as good as he was saying he could.

“How’d you want this?” He asks.

“You’re from Texas, right?” You ask and he nods. “I’ve always been interested in saving horses.”

He throws his head back, laughing. “If it weren’t you standing naked in front of me right now, I’d be getting up and leaving. That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Get over here.”

You suppress a laugh, sitting back down on his lap, feeling him hard as a rock underneath you. "Your shirts coming off." You say, pulling at it.

He removes his glasses, shaking his head lightly, tousling his hair even more than your hands had. With or without his glasses, he made it hard to breathe. When he removes his shirt, you were sure he'd knocked the wind out of you entirely.

Your mind couldn't think of anything to say so you opted for leaning down and capturing him into another kiss. His large hands wrap around your side, kneading the flesh beneath. You had began rocking your hips back and forth without even realizing it until his hand stopped you.

"I want to get inside you before I come from just this." He admits, resting his forehead against yours.

You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "Yeah, yeah that's a good idea."

You lift your hips as he lines himself up. Much to your pleasure, he didn't force you down and allowed for you to go at your own pace. It had been a while and you were tight. He hisses through his teeth as you sink down.

"Fit inside me so good." You tell him. He throws his head back, letting out a low moan. You were glad he wasn't the type of man who tried to silence himself. He sounded so beautiful. "Could stay here forever."

"Fuck me first." He says, bucking his hips ever so slightly, echoing your words from earlier.

Who were you to decline such a polite request?

You lift yourself up, enjoying how his eyes immediately snap down to watch where you're connected. The grip on your hips tightens as you go back down.

It felt like your senses were heightened. Every inch of him was sending flames through you. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and Bob looked no better.

He was watching intensely as you moved, mouth ajar. You press your hands against his chest and lean forward ever so slightly. The change of angles makes you see stars.

"Oh my God." You cry out. He felt impossibly deep and so, so good.

"Feels better than I ever thought possible." He groans. "Just like you were made for me."

"Thought about this before?" You tease, spelling your name with your hips. What size ring was he?

Bob's hand leaves your waist and trails down to your clit. "Often." With a light pinch, you're doubling over, crying out with a mix of broken moans and his name.

"You're gonna make me come fast if you keep doing that." You warn him. As much as you wanted to come, the thought of this being over made you want to hold off as long as possible.

He pinches again. "I'm no better, darlin. Come whenever, I'll be right behind you." The feeling of him inside you was making you crazy. You were losing your mind and felt entirely content with it. "Fuck, keep doing that."

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching. You'd never come this quickly before and it would be embarrassing if Bob weren't so stunningly handsome and crying out just as much as you were. Sweat was beading on his forehead, causing his baby hairs to stick down.

You run your hand across his head, moving both the hairs and his head back. He looks at you, all fucked out, and the sight alone is perfect shower head masturbation material for the next few months.

"You're so beautiful." He says, his eyes glazed over, like he couldn't believe that you were real. "Can't believe this is real."

You moan in agreeance. This was beyond your wildest dreams. You would have never imagined this as a possible scenario for how the day would go. Part of you began to worry this was all a dream and you'd wake up to find your credit card was in your wallet the whole time.

He shifted and your world exploded. He was deeper than you ever thought possible. God, it felt so good. So, so good. Too good.

"Robert, I'm gonna come." You cry out, gripping his shoulders like a vice. His lips wrap around your chest, sucking and biting down, the harsh breath feeling like Heaven and Hell all at the same time, before he roughly pulls back.

"You gotta get up before I come inside you." He warns, the grip on your hips loosening.

You force your hips back down, tightening your thighs around him. "I'm on the pill, I wanna feel you. Give it to me, please?" You asked it so innocently but your words were filthy.

"Yeah?" He breathes out. "Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?" You clench around him. "You like that, huh? Like the idea of me marking you as mine. Tell me you want it."

"I want it, I want it." You chant. "Please give it to me. Need to feel you inside me."

He takes your other breast into his mouth, bouncing you with more urgency. "Gonna fill you up so good." You hear him mumble around you.

He pinches your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm rips through you and you're coming harder than you've come before around him. You can tell you're saying something but your mind is so blank, you're not quite sure what it is.

"Holy fuck." He moans, hips stilling as you feel him come inside you.

You're both panting, resting foreheads against each other. You can feel him spilling out but make no effort to move. This was something you'd want to savor for as long as you lived. A size 10 ring would probably fit him nicely.

He presses a kiss to your cheek. His hands pull your hair from your face back into a makeshift pony tail from where it had been sticking to your neck with sweat before letting it fall. "You're amazing."

You laugh lightly, never having been told that after getting absolutely railed before. "I think that belongs to you. I've never had someone make me come that quickly before."

"Same." He agrees. He finds his glasses, putting them on and blinking rapidly to readjust his vision. "A goddess, for sure."

You laugh and swat at his chest. "A cowboy, for sure." He groans, rolling his head back.

“Oh, who the fuck is calling me right now?” You breathed out as your phone began ringing, pulling you from your lovely little bubble. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was. It was Phoenix. You didn't get off him, simply grabbing your phone from the table and answering “Hello?”

“Hey girl, I’m so sorry I just realized I left the brownies at your place! Don’t eat them okay? They’re for a prank.” Her voice was rushed as she got out every word.

“What do you mean ‘they’re for a prank’?”

“They’re aphrodisiac.”

Ah.

[miazetomer]

Heartless | Rafe Cameron x pogue(ish)!fem!reader (Part X)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol use, drug use, takes place during season four, the usual

Summary: You were back on Kildare after two years. You were able to finish your business degree at UNC Chapel Hill in just two years after earning enough college credits in high school. But, you came back as a force to be reckoned with. You had your own very successful development company which just so happened to be Cameron Development’s newest competition. Two years later and you’re still finding ways to get under Rafe’s skin.

prev next

♡♡♡

When Rafe woke up the next morning and saw you lying on his chest, he thought he had died and gone to Heaven. He didn’t remember much of last night, but he had flashes, bits and pieces of memories.

When you woke up though, you had completely forgotten for a second that Rafe was in your bed. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and your legs were all tangled together. You shot up and scrambled to the foot of the bed in a panic, before you remembered that it was just Rafe. He was drunk last night, refused to go home, and that’s how he ended up in your bed.

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s just me.” Rafe said sitting up, an attempt to calm you down. You ran your hands through your hair and took a deep breath as you came to your senses.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were shouting at him at the same time. “We need to get you back to your house before my family wakes up. They cannot know you slept here, it’s gonna open a whole can of worms with my mom.”

“Hey, Mom, wants to know-” Your little brother, William, said, coming into your room. “Oh, gross, I’m gonna tell Mom you have a boy in your bed.” William peeked around your shoulder and when he saw Rafe his jaw dropped. “No way, are you guys getting back together?”

You sighed and dropped your head into your hands.

“No, he just couldn’t go home last night, because he was too drunk.” You answered. Your brother was fourteen now, you figured he could handle the truth. You remember what it was like for him when you and Rafe broke up, you kind of thought William took it harder than you did.

Rafe was like the older brother he never had. He would play video games with him when he came over, showed up to all his basketball games, gave him advice about girls, even though you were certain it wasn’t gonna work.

“You did what?” William said when you told him you broke up with Rafe. “Go over there, tell him you’re sorry, and get back together!”

“That’s not how it works, Will.” You sighed, putting your laptop back into your backpack.

“So you guys aren’t getting back together?” Your brother asked, his shoulders dropping a little.

“No.” You answered.

“Never say never.” Rafe muttered at the same time, earning a ‘really?’ look from you.

“Mom!” Will called as he ran down the stairs and you ran after him, trying to catch him before he could say anything to anyone. But he reached the kitchen where your mother was before you could. “Mom! Rafe and y/n are getting back together! He’s in her bed right now!”

“No we are not!” You shouted as you entered the kitchen.

“What is Rafe Cameron doing in your bed?” Your mom asked, crossing her arms.

“Mom, I’m twenty years old, I can have a guy in my bed if I want.”

“What is Rafe Cameron doing in your bed?” She repeated.

“He just needed a place to crash last night that’s all.”

“Sweetie, I like Rafe, I really do, but do you really think it’s the best idea to get involved with him again? I mean do you forget what you were like after you broke up? Because I certainly didn’t. You couldn’t get out of bed, you couldn’t eat. I mean it was so bad JJ called me because he didn’t know what to do.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we aren’t getting back together, Mom.” You muttered before walking back upstairs.

“Everything okay?” Rafe asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Everything’s fine.” You said, a little snappier than you intended. You slipped on your Birkenstocks and looked over at Rafe. “We gotta get you out of here before Doug comes busting in and drags you out by the ear.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, he’s not exactly the biggest fan of you.”

“What? I thought he liked me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.” You said patting his chest. You watched as Rafe picked up his stuff. “Come on, let’s go before you cause anymore trouble this morning. I’m sure you have enough of it waiting at home for you.”

You walked downstairs with Rafe following closely behind you. You sighed and thanked God that the downstairs was empty.

“Thanks for letting me crash here last night.” Rafe said when you reached the front door.

“No problem. But, please, next time you get blackout drunk at the bar, don’t come pounding on my door. Oh, and I told Sofia you passed out in the living room so if she asks, tell her that.” You sent Rafe a smile before closing the front door behind him.

♡♡♡

You huffed as you walked up the steps to the Cameron Estate, your heels clicking against the concrete. Hesitantly you knocked on the door.

“Oh, hey, y/n.” Sofia said with a small smile when she opened the front door. “Rafe’s not here right now.”

“Oh, I know, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch, my treat.” You smiled down at the girl, holding the keys to your car up.

“Oh, sure. Let me just grab my purse really quick.” Sofia walked back inside and you picked at your manicured nails, thinking about how you needed to get them done. When Sofia walked back outside your eyes immediately went to her bag.

“Is that the Dior Saddle Bag?” You asked pointing to her bag.

“Oh, yeah, Rafe just got it for me the other day.” Sofia smiled as the two of you moved towards your car. “Do you have one?”

“I have all of them.” You muttered, unlocking your car, allowing the two of you to get in.

“Wow, that’s so cool.” Sofia said, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m sure you have a great closet.”

“You should come over and see it sometime. I have a bunch of stuff I don’t wear anymore if you want them.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.”

You pulled up to the restaurant and got out of your car, locking it once Sofia closed her door.

♡♡♡

“Thank you.” You said to the waiter with a smile as he poured wine for you and Sofia. “Let’s get into the reason why I invited you to lunch today.” You leaned back into your chair and crossed one leg over the other. “How much did Hollis offer you to convince Rafe to take the deal with her?”

“W-what are you talking about?” Sofia stuttered out.

“Well, I mean Hollis paying you off is the only conclusion I can come to as to why you would suddenly be interested in Rafe’s business.” You said, cocking your head to the side as you spoke to Sofia. “So, how much did she offer you?”

“Twenty-five thousand.” Sofia looked down at the table, you assumed guilt was starting to come over her.

“Twenty-five thousand?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “You’re willing to risk Rafe’s entire business for twenty-five thousand dollars? You’re a lot cheaper than I thought you would be. Look, it’s whatever.” You sighed and pulled a stuffed envelope out of your purse. “Seventy five thousand dollars, cash, and you convince Rafe to back out of the deal.”

Sofia went to grab the envelope and you slapped your hand on top of it, preventing her from grabbing it and put it back into your purse

“You’ll get this after Rafe backs out of the deal.” You stood from your chair and fished two hundred dollar bills out of your purse before tossing them down on the table. “I’ll call an Uber for you.”

♡♡♡

You sighed as you walked into your house, tossing your keys in the bowl, when you heard your family laughing in the kitchen. As you walked further into the kitchen you saw your business partner, and ex-boyfriend, Mark, sitting at the counter talking to your family.

“Oh, hi, sweetie.” Your mom said with a smile. “How was lunch?”

“Just fantastic.” You mutter, clutching your purse a little tighter.

“Hi, y/n.” Mark walked over to you with that stupid charming smile he always had on. “Have a place we can talk?”

“Of course.” You said with a polite smile.

You led Mark to the backyard and closed the sliding door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you practically threw your purse down on the outdoor dining room table. You sat down and crossed one leg over the other, your arms following suit.

“Well, you weren’t returning my calls, or my texts, or my emails, so I figured I would come see you in person instead.” Mark answered, sitting across from you.

“There’s a reason for my avoidance of you.”

“I know, that’s what I intend to find out.”

You met Mark when you were at UNC. He was the same year as you, but he was two years older. You were immediately attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect: his hair, his body, the fact that he came from wealth, he was from the Outer Banks, his sense of humor, his work ethic. Everything about your relationship was perfect. You never fought, he was always paid when you went on dates, he showered you in gifts: jewelry, clothes, handbags, whatever you wanted he got, you two even lived together for a time. He was even the perfect business partner. He always came through on pitches, he always produced the best partnerships, he always made the perfect deals. Everything about him was perfect. That’s why you ended things. You didn’t want perfect, you wanted someone who would challenge you, someone who got under your skin, but also knew you like the back of their hand, who could be kind to you, and made you laugh. You wanted Rafe and Mark would never be Rafe.

“How was Tokyo?” You asked, wanting to keep control of the conversation.

“Well, you saw the offer and the deal. You know it went perfect.” He answered. Your development business just bought an entire apartment complex in Tokyo, intending to turn them into luxury apartments with the best tech.

“Congratulations on taking OBX Development international.” You smiled.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. I mean, it was your idea after all. Remind me, where are all the places we’re building now?”

“The Outer Banks, South Carolina, Southwest Florida, Miami, Los Angeles, El Paso, Texas, and now Tokyo, and hopefully after this next offer I’m working on Kildare.”

“All those places in just under a year. How do you do it?”

“Insane connections and a good last name.” You answered with a smile. “I know you’re not here to talk business, so how about we actually talk about why you’re here.”

“I already told you. I’m here to find out why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been talking to you about work, so you can’t say I’ve been completely avoiding you. But I think you know why I’ve been avoiding ever other single one of your messages.” You sighed. “You want to talk about what happened and what went wrong and honestly, I just, don’t.”

“I just want to know what I did that was so bad that you packed up in the middle of the night and came back home.”

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong. Which is exactly the problem. You did nothing wrong, you never did anything wrong. You were absolutely perfect. That’s when I knew I wasn’t the girl for you anymore, Mark. It was like as the days went on I just started hating you. I mean, you never even had a hair out of place. It wasn’t fair to you to stay in a relationship with you, because I knew I would just end up breaking your heart and I didn’t…I couldn’t do that.”

“So, you thought the best way to break up with me was to flee? In the middle of the night? You thought the mature way to end a relationship was to leave in the middle of the night without a single word?”

“I thought I was sparing you.” You said quietly, looking at your hands.

“Spare me? You thought you were sparing me? If anything you just made me more upset than any conversation we could’ve had. I mean, did you think you would just leave in the middle of the night and never see me again? We have a business together!”

“I wasn’t—That wasn’t my plan.”

“Then what was your plan, y/n?”

“You would stay in Charleston and I would come back to Kildare and we would only see each other when necessary, only speaking to each other when it pertained to work.”

“How was I supposed to know that without you talking to me? I’m not a mind reader y/n!”

“I—I don’t know, okay? I just thought maybe you would let me go in the night and we would just never talk about it.”

“We spent two years together and you thought I was just gonna let you disappear into the night without a word? I actually convinced myself that you were the woman I was gonna marry one day.”

“You think that wasn’t on my mind either? I tried staying as long as I could. I tried to convince myself that I could fall back in love with you. But, I just realized that the more time went on, the more I was hurting you.”

“How long? How long did you stay, knowing you couldn’t stand me, before you decided to leave?”

“I don’t know, a couple months.”

“Why did you stay so long?”

“I thought I was doing what was right.”

“You should’ve left the second you started having doubts or at the very least, talked to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You said quietly.

Mark sighed and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.” He muttered, buttoning up his suit jacket.

“What?” You asked, raising your eyebrows, your face doing very little to hide your shock.

“Oh, you thought I was just coming for the day? I’m here until I leave for Europe.”

“That’s not for another month.”

“Then, I guess you better get used to having me around again.” You watched as Mark walked back inside.

You waited a little bit until you were certain Mark left and grabbed your purse from the table, heading inside. You stomped upstairs to your room, ignoring your mom as she asked if everything was okay. Slamming the door to your room, you sighed and tossed your purse on your bed. You made your way to your closet, there was only one thing that was going to calm you down at this point. You dug through an old box and found your old bong and at least three ounces of weed. You grabbed a bottle of water and your lighter and made your way out to your balcony, groaning when you saw Rafe already standing out there.

“Everything alright?” Rafe asked, leaning against his balcony railing.

“How much did you hear?” You asked, filling the bong with the water and packed it.

“Enough to know you’re upset.” He shrugged.

You lit the bong and brought it to your lips, inhaling sharply.

“I’m fine.” You exhaled.

“Do you want me to beat his ass for you?” Rafe’s offer made you laugh.

“No you probably shouldn’t, he’s still my business partner, I don’t need you scaring him off.”

“Please, you and I both know you could run that business without him.” Rafe scoffed at the suggestion that you actually needed Mark.

“Maybe, but he does handle like half the shit I don’t want to deal with.” You shrugged and set your bong down on the table.

“Sofia told me the two of you went to lunch today.” Rafe said, looking down at his hands.

“She say anything else?”

“Just that the two of you had a good time.”

“Well, she certainly had a good time.” You mumbled, playing with your bracelet. “How’s the deal going with Hollis?”

“Oh, I decided to back out. I realized what you said was true. We don’t know what kind of game she’s playing.”

“Did Sofia tell you to back out or did you come to that conclusion on your own this time?”

“No, I made the decision last night. The clarity dawned on me sometime between leaving the bar and when you were lying on top of me.”

“Wow, you actually came to a sound conclusion without your girlfriend, way to go Rafe.”

“You’re mean when you smoke weed.” Rafe said, his face dropping.

♡♡♡

You sighed as you sat in the café waiting for Sofia. She had agreed to meet you here when you told her you needed to speak with her. You were sipping on your latte when she walked and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

“I know you didn’t talk to Rafe.” You sighed and pulled the envelope out of your purse, setting it down on the table.

“So, why are you still giving me this?” She asked, looking down at the envelope.

“Because I felt like donating to charity.” You said before you stood up.

“I don’t need this you know.” Sofia called out as you started to walk away. You turned back to her and chuckled lightly.

“Oh, Sweetie, you’re running on borrowed time with Rafe. Trust me when I say, you’re gonna need that.”

[natalievoncatte]

4. Garden

Kara waited as long as she could. Taking to the air, she lifted herself to cloud-height, ignoring the bite of the upper-atmospheric chill as the high winds snapped at her cape. Hovering in the air, she took a moment to unbind her senses, expanding her awareness to let in the cacophony of sounds she usually suppressed through years of focused willpower and concentration.

She rocked in the air, shocked by the sensitivity of her own ears. Jeremiah and then Eliza had taught her this, made the world in its vastness small enough that she could live in it.

Clark had taught her to reach out, to hear, as well as see and smell and taste and feel, beyond. Sol’s gentle kiss did more than expand her awareness and multiply her strength, it activated pathways in her brain itself, giving her a control over her senses that she could never match under a red star.

It took only moments to sift out the quiet sounds of Lena’s pulse and her gentle, hissing breaths as she fought back sobs.

Air folded around her as she shatters the sound barrier, flying high enough that the boom that followed her would be a mere puff to the ground. Another trick she picked up from Clark, using the earth’s rotation to speed her flight.

Kara touched down at a familiar but foreboding place: the Luthor estate.

All that had been the property of her family was hers now, a gift and a curse. Lena had talked about making it an orphanage or a long-term care hospital or a new children’s medical campus, but the building itself had held her back. What malevolent secrets had Lex left behind? Booby traps? Sentinel robots hiding in the walls? Caches of weapons or Lexosuits?

A Kryptonite bomb, to spit death at her for hate’s sake?

Kara hesitated, but Lena was here and upset. She went inside.

It was immediately obvious where Lex had reinforced walls and lined rooms with lead. Kara listened for Lena, finding that the trail of sound led her outside.

She had to use her x-ray vision.

Lena was kneeling in an hidden place, a walled off section of the formal gardens. Kara found the entrance cleverly disguised, a section of wall where one slipped through a gap and turned left then right and came out in a tiny, overgrown courtyard.

Kneeling, Lena was surrounded by pruning shears and garden implements, dressed to work outside. She looked so out of place it was almost a little silly to see, but there she was.

Kara could see that Lena had already been working on cleaning and clearing. She knelt before a small plumeria plant, resting in a well kept pot.

“Lex let it all die,” said Lena. “He knew it was here. He could have kept it for me, but he didn’t. I suppose I’m lucky that Lillian didn’t rip it up and install a septic tank.”

Kara walked over, standing next to her.

“My father built this. It’s a replica of my mother’s garden. We had a little walled garden next to the cottage where I lived with her before I came to live with the Luthors.”

Kara said nothing, instead brushing a lock of Lena’s now-curly hair back from her shoulder.

“He never showed it to me.”

“Why?”

“My parentage was his dirtiest secret. Lillian didn’t even tell me until she thought she could use it.”

“Do you think he loved her?”

“I have no idea. He loved me, I think. He loved Lex but in a different way. I don’t think he even liked Lillian.”

“You’ve never told me about him.”

“It wasn’t easy being his child. He drank too much, neglected the company, and drank more when things went badly for us. The family was actually in trouble until Lex turned it around. He started managing things when I was in grade school. By the end, he’d spend all day in his study and I’d spend half the night sitting with him while he talked and told me stories. Lillian hated him for it.”

“You miss him.”

“I miss them both. I miss Lex. I miss him so much. I mourn him every day.”

“I know,” said Kara.

“My mom died, my father died, my brother went insane.”

“Lena…”

“Is it me?”

“It’s not, you know it’s not.”

“Is it my witch blood? Am I cursed?”

Kara knelt beside her, pulling her cape across Lena’s shoulders to fight the autumn chill. Lena leaned into her.

“What if it is a curse? What if it gets our little one too?”

Kara put her hand on Lena’s belly, spreading her fingers. There was no bump yet. Kara listened intently, eagerly awaiting a moment she would never forget, when a second heartbeat joined Lena’s. It hadn’t come yet but it would.

“Nothing is going to get our baby,” said Kara. “Their moms are Supergirl and Lena Luthor. We can do anything.”

“It’s going to be a children’s hospital,” said Lena. “The house. A lot of the grounds are going to be torn out, but I’m keeping this garden. I’m going to give my mom a memorial. I think I might put one in for my dad, too.”

“I love you,” Kara murmured. “I love you so much.”

Lena leaned into her and Kara sat down to pull her in.

They sat for a long time, and listened to the wind that shook the leaves.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 5

Warnings: Childhood trauma, communes, assault, verbal threats

"Hollow Woods is where I grew up. On the Eastbank near Wraithwood. I grew up in a relatively large pack, there were about twenty other werewolves. Some alpha. Some beta and some omega. The majority of them, all had children. I was one of the children. There were roughly 15 or 18 children, there may have been more. It was more like a commune. The children of the pack would go to school in the morning and learn how to be a werewolf. You would learn the basics of hunting and survival skills. The older children, like myself, would learn how to be what we are. In my case, learn about being an omega...

You were incredibly unlucky if you were an omega in our pack. It was the worst thing to ever be. If you were an omega you were fated to downfall. As a female omega, your job was to be a concubine for an alpha. To produce an Apex. Yet, it was never possible for them. The majority of omegas that were born were male in our pack. The ones who were female lost their lives because they were succumbed to mistreatment. Omega's had little rights in our tribe. They were subjected to their alphas most of the time, meaning when an alpha wanted something an omega did it. If an alpha had a rut they needed an omega. If an alpha was angry they needed an omega to take the pain away. Despite all that, an omega was not allowed near an alpha nor a Beta. They were only allowed near them if the called upon them or sent them to a beta. It was tough for all of us. Even for my mother!

My mother was an omega, conceived by two omegas that rebelled against their alphas. Before they were sentenced to death they pleaded with the alpha at the time to take my mother in. My mother was 14 at the time when she watched her parents die. My mother swore she would never make the same mistake her parents made. Instead, my mother was forced to be with our head alpha as his mate in hopes of producing an Apex, but sadly it never happened. My brothers Joshua, Samuel and I were born as Omega. Even my younger brother Milo came out as an omega. We watched our mother for years get slandered and beaten by our alpha for never conceiving an Apex. What was funny to us was our mother conceived an Alpha with Jiyong! Turns out our head alpha cannot conceive other alphas because they were not soul mates. Poor Alpha Jackson! He never got what he dreamed of.

That was until our head alpha committed a heinous act. He forced an omega to conceive an apex through necromancy. This led to an upral with neighbouring packs, particularly one pack. They threatened our pack and told them they would be reported to the elders and the council. So they had to make a pact, or a trade, if you will. They will keep the secret of the apex being born through necromancy if my pack hands over a virgin omega! Well, you see, that was easy for our head alpha because I was the only virgin female omega. The only reason I was a virgin omega is because I hated half of the beta boys in our back. They were flamboyant casanova peacocks."

"So what happened to the apex and their mother did they survive? I've never heard of the omega mother surviving a forced apex pregnancy?" Changbin interrupted her novella out of curiosity. He had heard the story of an apex being born but he didn't think it was true. "From what the pack I was given to told me, they both didn't survive. The mother died during childbirth and the apex died because he went into a sub-drop too early on." Y/N answered with a shrug. "That's crazy. What were they thinking." Changbin stated. He couldn't believe an infant could go through a sub-drop. It was near enough impossible. "Not to disrespect your pack nor your family, but was it more like a breeding farm?" Seungmin asked, causing everyone in the room to freeze. They all thought the same thing but no one wanted to say anything to offend her as she was opening up for the first time with them. "Ah. Yes. Yes it was. They breed to create omegas in hopes that omega would be an alpha's soul mate. Yet it never happened or the omega rebelled and fled"  Y/N answered sadly as she looked down at the wooden floor. "That's fucked up," Seungmin stated. He was about to continue when Chan stopped him with a warning glare. "Please continue Y/N. If at any point it gets too much we can stop and talk about it another day." Chan reassured with a promise.

"Going back to what I was saying. I was basically given to-" "It was Ateez wasn't it? You were given to Hongjoong." The red-haired alpha interrupted with a low growl. His eyes narrowed in on her. "How di-" "I can smell him all over you. Such a disgrace." Hyunjin spat before walking out, leaving the room with an icy feeling. None of them knew what to say at Hyunjins outburst. "Please don't mind Hyunjin little wolf. Hyunjin has quite the history with Ateez." Chan explained with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Chan realised this might complicate things as Chan had already stolen from Hongjoong before. "It makes sense," Seungmin added as he watched the omega drop her head in shame. "What does hyung?" The younger alpha asked as he pulled on Seungmin's jumper. "Why our omega was so afraid of us? Look at her Innie. Look at the state of her. You can tell what they've done to her. It was probably that demonic little alpha." Seungmin growled making the omega shrink into the sofa even more. "Seonghwa isn't an alpha," Y/N muttered. "What?" They all said. "Seonghwa is a beta. He just pretends to be an alpha. They only have one other alpha, Wooyoung. It's only because Hongjoong gives him the power that he acts like a fucking alpha." Y/N growled, her eyes sparkling in anger. "So the other six are Betas?" Chan asked in confirmation causing Y/N to stare at him in bewilderment. "You mean the other four are betas. Two of them are omegas. Three including me." Y/N said. "Wait what!" Jisung and Changbin shouted. "Those fucking liars. They're corrupted." Changbin screamed. "Yeah, and you guys are not corrupt," Y/N answered as she rolled her eyes. As far as she was aware Straykids was as bad. "I guess that means we have a lot to think about, but for now let's hold that thought. We can think about Ateez's politics later." Chan looked around the room before continuing. " Minho can you go and check on Hyunjin he will need your guidance. Changbin take Jisung and Seungmin to the border and patrol for the next few hours. They will have realised Y/N-"

Everything sped up for Chan in an instant. One minute his omega was opening up about her background and the next minute she was on the floor withering in immense pain. He knew within seconds it was her previous alpha trying to track her down. He was trying to communicate with her through his bond and mark, but it was only resulting in her suffering. It was clear to Chan that her old alpha, Hongjoong, was trying to make her suffer. Chan knew he needed to remove the mark from her, both of them, but it would be too obvious. He needed Hyunjin to help him and he needed him to act now, regardless of the consequences!

"Hyunjin!" A panicked Chan called out. Within seconds of calling Hyunjin, Chan had his mouth over the top of Hongjoong's mark and bit down on top of it at the same time Hyunjin bit down on the mark on her ass. Both of them could feel the power of the two Ateez marks as they tried to override it by forcing their power onto her. The problem with overriding an alpha mark is it could result in death for that omega. Wolves knew it was rare to have a soul mate which was why they heavily branded and marked their omegas so they wouldn't go missing. Ateez was aware of that. They knew she wasn't really theirs, but they had to lie to her so she wouldn't leave them. What neither of the Alphas realised was how much power the two Ateez alphas had. Chan and Hyunjin were struggling to break the bond as they assaulted her neck, forcing submission. It was an awful sight to see and quite frankly frightened the other forgotten wolves who were witnessing the assault. They had never seen either of the alphas in such an aggressive sadistic state. They couldn't believe how quickly Chan ripped her jumper to sink his fangs straight into her. His eyes glowed a dark shade of ruby as blood poured down her neck. Hyunjin, wasn't any kinder as he bit down on her ass with a deep growl, is hands dug into her calf while the other dug into her waist, leaving nail marks.

The two younger betas, Felix and Jisung were in hysterics as they jumped straight into Minho's lap cuddling up to him. They didn't like to see their omega in such an awful position, they wanted to take it away. They wanted to rip the two alphas off of her and make it all better, but they couldn't. None of them appreciated what was happening. It was making their stomach churn the louder Y/N cried. Her cries were getting louder and it didn't seem like the alphas were going to stop. Jeongin couldn't take it either. A new alpha dealing with the heightened emotions in the room was overwhelming. He could smell the omegas pain. He could smell her blood and anxiety that was bleeding through the entirety of the house. It was too much for him, he had to leave before he acted out. The other two betas, Seungmin and Changbin were stress nesting. They had decided to rearrange their alpha's bedroom completely, ready for their omega to rest in. Seungmin ripped off the covers in a panicked emotional state, slightly sniffing to himself as he changed the pillows. He feared the omega was really going to hate them now. Changbin was aggressively moving the furniture around, cursing his ancestors for making his life hell.

They all felt conflicted. Some felt sick. Some felt remorse. Some felt anger and hatred. Some even felt let down by their ancestors. Except for one little beta, Jisung. He felt hope despite all the trouble she brought. Jisung believed she was the best omega for them. He could feel it deep down which was why he had to stop them. He didn't want her to suffer anymore. His poor omega was bleeding out to the point she had blood coming out her mouth and neither of the alphas realised they were taking it too far. Jisung plucked up the courage to slam straight into his head alpha, causing Chan to slide his teeth down the front of her chest, before falling into the wall. Jisung knew he was risking it all for an omega they barely knew but it felt right as he stood in front of his head alpha stupidly as he tried to challenge him. His heart thumped in panic as he knew he royally fucked up as he heard the little omega scream out in pain as Ateez tried to push the unidentified invasive werewolf out. "Go. Downstairs. Now." Chan alpha ordered out of anger. Jisung put his head down in shame as he headed towards Alpha Hyunjins room of torture, knowing he was going to spend however long in there. Jisung shamefully opened up the metal gate and headed towards the metal chains, wrapping them around his ankles waiting for his punishment that would only come when the omega was safe.

Moments later, Jisung heard Chan and Hyunjin's heavy footsteps coming down into the basement. He wasn't afraid. In fact, he was relieved they were down sooner than he thought. It meant she was safe and marked. Of course, Jisung wasn't happy about his upcoming punishment but it will suffice until he gets to see his omega. "Jisung look at me," Chan ordered. His harsh voice cut through his body. "You know why I sent you down here?". "Yes, because I threw you into the wall for hurting our omega." He said blankly. His answer stunned the alphas. "Because you threw me into the wall." Chan nodded his head, thinking about the sarcastic answer he gave. "Alright. Phase back and forth fifty times a day until I say stop." Chan stated as he headed out the door before stopping. "You can start when Hyunjin breaks one of your back legs."

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

Fred Weasley masterlist nav. megalist bth

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️fluff▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

ridiculously in love

together at last

Yn had died years before Fred was even born, she died during her 7th year. So when Fred first sees her he fell in love

too far

Fred has always been the king of pranks, but one day he goes a bit too far, and he Fred spends the rest of the day trying to make it up to you with adorable gestures until you can’t help but forgive him

the kissing booth

a bit down

after a tough day, Fred surprises you with your favorite sweets from Honeydukes and a cuddle session

you’re completely mad, you know that?

y/n(she/her) loves thunderstorms and the rain and always wants to go dance in the rain with Fred, but Fred is terrified of them

it’s okay to be happy, even after everything | p2 | p3 | p4

i like you, and it scares the hell out of me | p2

all of Fred's life he's hated Slytherins and has always said he would never befriend one much less date one, but reader appears and he starts falling for her while denying it and is maybe a bit of an a**hole to reader because he just doesn't believe he could ever like you, but realizes that reader isn't horrible and that not all Slytherins are monsters, and once they're together everyone teases him about how he would say he would never date a Slytherin but now reader is basically the love of his life

well, i suppose we’ll just have to share them

Fred is definitely the type to want his partner to get along with George’s partner

tu sais que je t'aime bien, non? | p2

you should pick where all my rings go

Fred always wears his unusual rings and y/n(she/her) is obsessed with them and like to move them around and play with them when he's not looking. So one day she does it and she moves her favorite ring of his to his ring finger and he's absolutely obsessed with it and won't stop thinking about it

i don’t think i should pick favorites

y/n(she/her) has a crush on her best friend's older brother

i know | p2

Fred falls for Sirius's daughter

seems like deja vu to me | p2

Fred always tries to flirt with her and impress her but she just acts annoyed, just like how James was with Lily

told you I'd keep you warm

y/n(she/her) is always cold in general and especially when she sleeps and one night she's in the twins room and it's too late for her to go back to her common room so she stays and ends up in Fred's bed and he's really warm and after that night she can barely sleep without him

just don’t get us caught

what’s wrong? too shy to look at me now?

just Fred basically teasing short!y/n(she/her)

alright, Weasley, impress me

i like it best when it’s pink

y/n(she/her) is Nymphadora Tonks younger sister and she's also a metamorphmagus and this makes Fred really interested in her

they don’t deserve you, you know

y/n(she/her) came from a family of Gryffindors but she ended up in Slytherin and her family hates her for it, but throughout all her time at Hogwarts Fred has always been there for her

don’t get used to it

i wouldn’t let you get in trouble

i'll be here when you come back

during their firework show, when they leave, Fred quickly stops and goes over to y/n(she/her) and finally admits to how much he loves her

someday

Bill and Fleur are getting married and having their wedding and the entire time all Fred can think about is the wedding being his and y/n(she/her)'s

i love that you draw me

what’s this?

y/n(she/her) has been hiding from Fred that she still sleeps with her lovey stuffed animal

i don’t like sharing

Fred Weasley and slytherin!y/n(she/her) have a secret little situationship going on

there, see? i’m a natural at this

y/n(she/her) gets a new piercing and Fred is helping her clean it and accidentally hits it and hurts her

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️angst▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

you promised, remember?

y/n (she/her) finds Fred after the battle of Hogwarts

second chances

after Fred’s near-death experience in the Battle of Hogwarts, y/n(she/her) struggles with the fear of losing him again

it hurts

Umbridge performs the cruciartus curse on y/n(she/her) to torture her into telling her where her dad, Sirius Black, is

you’re going to be a dad, Fred…

[lullaebies]

Aegon III and Jaehaera had known from the night they should've consumated their marriage, that they never will — their one agreement had always been to reach an age they can petition for annulment.

When the time comes, it is harder to come to terms with it than expected. read on ao3. 💚

Annulment.

It is all Jaehaera ever wanted, as far as she remembers. The moment her grandmother died, she had been struck with how helpless she was in this Red Keep of terrors. Attempts on her life were made, more than once. Her Father may have once begrudgingly agreed to her betrothal, but he had not once thought it would come to fruition.

Made Queen at a young age, to a boy who shares her father’s namesake but could never share affection with her, she had always figured it would be easier to leave. To Oldtown, the home her grandmother always praised, or anywhere else, far, far away.

Her husband, surprisingly, never disagreed with this idea. She had been twelve, when they first had this conversation. She just had her first moonblood, and had been truly ready to pull a knife on her King if he tried to touch her in any capacity. 

Yet Aegon the Third reached for nobody, and the same night he stood by her and disavowed any vow their marriage had been founded on. He had been fifteen, the age her father already held her and her late twin in his arms, but he had no thirst for flesh of anybody — and most exceptionally, not of her.

That night had been the first time he made her cry. Cry of joy, that is; he told her he will not take her, and instead, that he is willing to listen and help her to where she may wish to take herself. That it may take time, but they could annul the marriage on grounds of it providing no children, given she is willing to wait and accept infertility as a guise.

Jaehaera was not stupid then nor now. She knows that he could kick her or axe her for false treasons if he wanted. He had given her a fair choice, for a respectful setting aside. Grandmother may have been disappointed in her, for not carving his heart out his chest and fighting for the crown, but he offered her easy freedom. And she wanted it so badly.

“You’ll be allowed to leave wherever you want. I swear you this on my mother’s memory.”

She cared none for his mother nor her memory, but she had known this opportunity is all she could ask for. She accepted it when she was twelve, not knowing if he would be true to his word, but alas, the time came.

Dressed in the darkest of colors in broad daylight, he comes to her rooms one day with an enchanting, rare smile on his pallored face. 

“The Small Council had brought up the issue of an heir,” he tells her. “I believe it is time for our ploy.”

Jaehaera inhales deeply, before rising from her seat. She smiles at him back.

—

Aegon is rather content with himself as he walks about the Keep.

He is twenty years of age, and his councilmen are livid with him. He had been recluse from holding courts, and hearing petitions; Viserys had to drag him by the ear to the ugly chair of swords. ‘ You do not appear enough in public, they are berating you in the streets!’ is a common complaint he hears, ever so directly only from Viserys, but in softer words from the councilmen at all times. 

Well, the councilmen can go piss on another tree, as do the common folk. He will grant Viserys some leverage alone, he does truly care, but gods, his chastising can be irritating .

He does not count more than three of his steps before he hears his brother rushing beside him.

“Aegon,” he rushes after him. “Are you listening to me? It’s preposterous!”

“What is?” he asks. The part where I told the Council I am to request annulment from the High Septon, or the part I named you heir for the while?

“You know damn well what is,” he says. “You just sent these schemers into a frenzy. They’ll pull women out of the depths of their grimy castle and blasted families to toss at you.”

“They would’ve done so anyways,” Aegon answers plainly. “Our lords of the Small Council are not men of great beauty. I cannot imagine any runs in their family lines. I only hope they’re reasonable to understand any rejection to come.” 

They enter his solar, and Viserys closes the door before giving him the most pronounced frown he can muster.

“I did not agree to being heir,” he says.

“Troublesome,” Aegon answers, sitting down on a chair. “To you, that is.”

“No, it is troublesome that you refuse to do your own duties,” Viserys says. “I think I do enough for you to not treat me like this.”

“You do enough to take over,” Aegon answers. “Why are you this contentious? You’ll do well with that. Little Aegon would be King.”

“Little Aegon spat on me today in order to escape his reading lessons. That is a grim future,” he says. “And you spit on me and your wife of nine years in the process of doing this.”  

“I didn’t know you as a fan of Jaehaera,” Aegon raises his brow. “Nine years with no heir are enough to know one is not likely to come.”

“Our cousin has lesser qualities, but none of those influence the fact you don’t know where to put it in,” Viserys answers back. Aegon glares at him; he may have never truly touched Jaehaera, but he shared her bed enough for it to be convincing that they tried. His brother is just being a prick — or alternately simply sees through him. Aegon is appreciative of neither option. Viserys glares back. “There was a purpose to your marriage. And there will be consequences to future generations of our family if we dangle that throne in front of our children. Stability, is what matters to this realm. Not your damn whims.”

Aegon bites his lips. He hates it when his brother makes his points. More than often he is correct. However, Aegon had done all he could to find a solution that would allow him and Jaehaera the freedom they promised one another. I swore.

“I have no children, Viserys,” Aegon answers.

Viserys scoffs. “Because you wish to live as if you are dead, and you wish me complicit in letting you do so,” he spits back at him. “I’m not your heir. If you want to set our cousin aside, find a wife of good repute and family to replace her.”

Viserys walks out of the room in stomps mightier than stallions at stampedes, and Aegon rubs his temples. 

Seven hells.

—

Aegon finds Jaehaera in his rooms later that day, waiting by the fireplace. He cannot say he had expected her; she doesn’t come here if she doesn’t need to. The creak of the door makes her turn to him, her nightdress and robe swiping against the floor. Almost immediately she rushes up to him.

“I am getting pitying looks,” she tells him, and her eyes are bright with curiosity of all things. He had allowed her a prior warning that he is setting things to motion for this reason exactly. She may not resent it, but others would take offense for her. That being said, she is mighty jolly for a woman talking of being looked down on. “Did you tell them?”

“I have declared intentions,” he answers her. “Some are unhappy, and some are most happy, but regardless they are stewing over it and will accept it soon enough.” 

Jaehaera nods, breathing in some disbelief. “Is it that easy?” she asks. “Do I need to do something?” The jitter in her limbs is noticeable, she fiddles with her hands in some liveliness. 

“Nothing in particular,” he says, moving past her to sit by his desk. “I need to petition the High Septon, and quarrel some more with Viserys, but you only need wait,” he says. “Though it may be counterproductive for you to be here. That does not give the impression of giving up on a marriage.”

Jaehaera huffs at that, walking over to him. “Why should you mind? They’ll be thinking I am begging you to decide differently,” she says. “I will be the one to suffer their prying eyes, as it is.” 

“Anyone who thinks you’d beg a thing of me is denser than a rock,” Aegon shoots back at her. He will not have her self-pitying over their shared agreement, he has had enough complaints over this. “And you have agreed to it, so don’t you start.”

“I’m not starting a thing,” Jaehaera says, holding her hands together. “I only wish to know what is to happen to me.”

Aegon’s muscles tense. They’ve both spent days on end wondering what will come their way. To sit and wait watching bloody walls while their guards and guardians know not how to shield them from what’s impending. It makes him sick only thinking about it.

He breathes deeply, and takes up one of the parchment papers and his ink. He wanted to write this petition later, but if she’s already here, he might as well. “If you’d like to watch me declare you impotent to the High Septon, be my guest.”

Jaehaera huffs as she walks behind him to see. “Last I heard a husband requested annulment from his wife for impotence, he remained childless despite having three wives, and the lady had become with child within a year of her second marriage.” 

Aegon raises an eyebrow. “That’s your wish for me?” Perhaps a hex brought to word. A tsk leaves his lips— she wouldn’t know he would not mind it at all—

“No, that’s your wish for yourself,” she says plainly, and a dose of faux innocence creeps upon her words. “I’d never.”

Aegon's mouth scrunches to an annoyed pout. At times her intuition seems heightened and she simply knows what she shouldn’t. And of course, she must employ similar words to Viserys. He draws his chair closer to the table. Breathe, and distance yourself. 

He focuses on his lettering instead. A formal request is not so hard to write, but he is unequivocally aware of her behind him. I hereby request your permission to relieve me and Queen Jaehaera of our…

“Relieve? Are we pissing, Aegon?” she chuckles by his ear. He turns his face to glare at her, but he nearly slams his face to her cheek. She pushes her face lightly against his as if to shove him away, and straightens herself to proper posture. 

He could choose to be flabbergasted. He sighs out. No. This is not the way with her.

“Do you want this written?” he asks her sternly. Staring her down is difficult when he must stare her up from his seat, but he will not let her lose his mind so easily.

She has the mind to not be entirely shameless. “Yes.”

“Then go sit on the bed and wait.”

Jaehaera most certainly has some quip trying to escape her lips, but she holds it in well. Eyebrows are raised and eyes are widened with a stifled grin, but she does not continue. Certainly an effort on her side.

“I shall let you read after I finish writing,” he tells her. “I promise.”

Every agreement with her is kept in their silences. Flinging hands in the hair, she steps and sits on the edge of the bed, resting her figure against the post of it. She is still watching, but he is able to finish the letter with this safe distance. 

When he rises from his seat, her gaze lifts with his figure. She looks at him expectedly, like one of her kittens waiting for food to be graced upon them. He blows on the letter once or twice for the ink to set and brings it forward to her for the taking. 

Jaehaera’s eyes scan the paper slowly. Every time she reads she has the most focused look on her face. He never knows if she takes in her texts at such leisure because she needs further focus or because she chooses to ignore him, but he allows her the moment she needs, slipping to the side of the bed opposed to her. If she has any complaints, he can fix them on the morrow; he has had enough of a long day.

When she lets the letter fall to her lap, she turns to him with eyes brightened with some emotion as they seem slightly frightened. 

“Do you think the High Septon will think me lesser for this reputation?” she asks him. “His opinion may matter if I’d like to stay in Oldtown...”

Aegon hasn’t ever thought he’d see his wife quite so nervous. She hadn’t allowed fear on her hardened face since the death of her grandmother. Certainly not to him, at the very least. He himself can’t truly ever relieve himself of his own fears, but he does know he has more control in relieving hers.

“You know very well Lord Lyonel nor Lady Samantha care for the opinion of any septon,” he answers softly. “You are a Targaryen. You will be a respectable ward to any host, and if they do not see you as such, we will sober said hosts to the truth.”

Never again could House Targaryen be seen as weak. He will never allow such insult or audacity again, nor hurt. It is why she must live on; why he must live on. Feelings of shame overcome him, all he has already lost for being a weak child.

“I will not allow any disrespect towards you,” he says ever seriously. Jaehaera’s mouth is in a thin gap she quickly shuts close, and he finds that if he does not speak now, his lifespan might thin out in a way even he isn’t prepared to. “So you’ve decided on Oldtown?”

No surprise, really. She may find herself belonging around those kin better. He wonders if she would; since Rhaena remarried to Garmund Hightower, that place is of no less Targaryen presence than here. 

“Well, if they’d sober to my respectable self, I’d be most glad,” she returns to her jests. “I’d rather like to see the Citadel’s Sphinxes. ”Did you know they have the bodies of cats?” 

“I believe it’s lions,” Aegon replies. “Or so Lord Tyland Lannister once told me. Though perhaps he saw himself in it.” 

Jaehaera nods. “Overgrown, smart cats, who speak in elevated riddles,” she laments, and then a grin returns to her face. “Perhaps he was right to see himself in it.”

Aegon feels the corners of his lips upturn as well. “Perhaps he was.” 

—

Jaehaera puts her mother’s pearls upon her for the night’s ball. Every ball has its purpose, and this one had several. Aegon needs to look at prospective alternatives to her, as well as apparently needs to calm his sister’s and council’s beating hearts to allow them to put forward their own girls first. Jaehaera laughed at how exasperated her husband had been as he told her. The muscles of his face have been in a perpetual scowl since forever, but it somehow managed to deepen.

She stretched her thumb and index over the skin of his lips, forcing him to wear a smile again. “You should smile if you’d like to charm anybody,” she told him. “Councilmen and women alike.” 

He shoved her hand away, pouting. Perhaps it doesn’t matter; he needn’t do much. He is handsome enough, and eyes will be on him regardless, as well on the crown on his head. It is a risk, to force him to smile. He is no good at such; when it does not reach his eyes it looks a crooked grimace. She finds it amusing in some measure, but he may scare someone else.

Regardless, she had been excited for the evening. Aegon told her he invited the Hightowers for her, to see if Oldtown’s folk truly suit her.

“My Queen,” her handmaiden calls her, showing her headpiece intricate with pearls scattered across green fabric. It is very extravagant for this evening. “What about this headdress?”

“Isn’t it much for the evening, Leila?” she asks the woman with a grin. She quite loves Leila; she had been with her for quite a while. She used to be a cook, kind enough to make Jaehaera all the sweets she needed between cravings and tears. Jaehaera took her as handmaiden right away, when she found out she could.

Leila licks her lips, tentative in what she says next. “My Queen, I have wanted to tell you… there are rumors—” she looks down, truthfully saddened. Still, she dares. “That the King wishes to replace you.”

Jaehaera hums at her, lips unsure of what shape to make. “You needn’t be concerned, really.”

“But it is of concern, Your Grace,” Leila says. “I couldn’t bear some Westerland witch taking your place.”

Jaehaera’s blinks at the sudden confession, but tries to conceal it with a jest. “That is all well then. If Aegon wishes for another, he has plenty more regions to choose from.”

“Your maids count to three and ten in number, Your Grace. You’ll find each of us refusing them all,” she tells her. “His Grace should see the good in his hands.”

Jaehaera is surprised. She hadn’t ever truly thought any of the Keep cares for her presence much. Many other staffs she had thought she could rely on turned on her and let her almost fall to the hands of those who wish her ill will. It is hard to believe in anyone, in truth.

Her one assumption had been that she’d only miss the cats of the Keep —  Gon and Lena are quite old now, but their kittens grew up so well. Ron, Mond, and Rys often played together. She thought she might take Lor with her, if she left; he is a wee bit of runt, just like her. Her husband had fed the cats himself rather often, but he wouldn’t mind her keeping one, she thinks. He likes them better than some of his councilmen, but he would.

In fact, she can’t see him denying her them all, should she have asked. 

She swallows, and smiles at Leila, holding her hands. “I see good in these hands,” she says. “Do put the headdress on me. Even if Aegon cares little, I trust your sense of dress more than anyone else.”

“If he cares little, he’s the most foolish king that could be,” Leila says, pouting, but tending to her hair nonetheless.

Jaehaera laughs.

—

Aegon sees Jaehaera come into the ballroom when he is dealing with a flock of hens. Hens, being the court’s daughters (and at times, mothers), and the lot of them were sent to him by his councilmen, and most of all, his devious siblings. Viserys, Rhaena, Baela, the lot of them proving to be from the seven hells.

She enters with a soft green dress befitting an age-old dispute. Should he be angry? Probably; he can see Baela is quite upset, but he is first taken aback by the form of Jaehaera. His wife scarcely took to dressing grandiosely, always rather conservative with her hair up in plain braided buns, and her dresses styled more for girls than women. It is different today, with her lowered neckline and hair cascading down with only half an updo and a tiara-like headdress.

He knows not if the red of her cheeks is powder or shyness as she wades through the room. She had been most excited at the news of her kinsmen coming, but now she looks rather tentative at the stares, despite her eye-catching choice of garb.

It does suddenly dawn on him that she may like to look appealing in order to perhaps find a second life by finding a second husband. That is fair, he rationalizes to himself. He himself is deep in the clutches of all the women that could be her replacements even if he had no wish to remarry after. But I must, and she could choose.

Jaehaera looks for something in the crowd and he does not notice he is staring until what she looks for is revealed to be him , and a relieved, crinkling violet stare holds him in place. 

“Your Grace,” Lady Corinna Tarbeck wakes him from his sudden halt. “What are you smiling at so…” the blond Lady begins to ask. He quickly removes any trace of a smile from his face, swallowing. Corinna is one of Rhaena’s friends, similar in ladylike demeanour, but even her impeccably held shy smile fades rather quickly at his wife’s approach. Regardless, she greets her first as Jaehaera rushes forward towards her. “My Queen.”

“I do beg your pardon for the interruption,” Jaehaera says, and chews the inside of his cheek when she sounds rather sincere. “If I may have my King for a moment,” she asks. Lady Corinna does not stay beyond her welcome, and Aegon is left with his wife rather stone-like. He sets his eyes on the pearls on her neck, which leads to nothing good. He ends up looking at her collarbone, and his eyes only keep straying further than he’d like them to. 

“Who’s that? A Westerland witch?” she whispers with a grin. Aegon is astounded to a snort at her knowing; she wasn’t even wearing her houses’ colors. But a witch may be an accurate descriptor. She had appeared by his side as if by magic’s way. His dearest sisters never hold back.

“Frankly, yes,” he says. “Rhaena has brought a delegation of those. They move their face as much as dolls do.” 

“Well, I rather like dolls. They make great company to the lonely,” she says. Aegon purses his lips. He has felt loneliness in his miserly life, but he hasn’t a need to alleviate any as of late. He doubts these dolls’ company would be any more than hindrance; all Lady Tarbeck had the will to talk about is the beauty of his jewelled crown. “Have you seen the Hightowers? I shan’t like to stifle you in your endeavors, but…”

Yet she does, coming in and demanding the eyes of all. Aegon huffs, but takes her arm in his. Even if she will be free to leave the Keep too, they need to maintain stability and amiability to the crowd. To let her go should be nothing but the last resort in the eyes of their warring lords. 

“I saw Lady Samantha with her children, I’ll take you to them,” her teeth flash in at him in a grin, and he tries to ignore how she holds his arm to her side. It is easier when she starts to whisper to him about some of the ladies he should avoid as they go about the room.

“Lady Farring is pretty, but quite the leech. I’ve spoken to her over tea a few times, and she means it not, but she’s a drainer of energy. I have felt the years pass by me in an hour,” she says.

“You mean she will deny me a long life?” he asks. “You may have just fully endeared me to her.”

Jaehaera rolls her eyes with a repressed smile. “They’d think I poisoned you if I let you die so soon after my leave,” she complains. “There are finer ladies around. Lady Thorne and Lady Harte had always been sweeter souls. You’ll find them amiable, though delegating you to them might be unfair to them.”

“Am I not amiable now? I thought I was rather fair with you,” he answers, scrunching his nose. Was he not fair with her? He would not say he had been the best of husbands, but he did his best to keep her in her thoughts. Even when it was hard, when he didn’t want to at all. Viserys thinks he knows not the importance of stability of the realm, but he does. He worked hard to make sure they are all stable and well. So much so now thinking of her and her consequences are second nature. 

Jaehaera squeezes his arms, looking up at him, pouting with lips he just noticed had been tinted further red. “It was a jest,” she says, sullen. “I can’t deny you are fairer than I expected you to be. I haven’t thought this promise will come to fruition; I couldn’t know if it was all empty words. But I see you have chosen a kinder, loyal hand than many would, it is not lost on me.”

Aegon breathes in. What is this sudden confession? On other days she would have sufficed to have thrown a shoe at him if he had said something she misliked. He can’t remember when her eyes had last been such a clear shade of violet rather than melancholic orchids. “I am not sure if I should be offended if you trust me only now.” 

Then again, how many attempts on her life she can live through and believe trust’s a true thing? He hardly trusted anyone at all. Viserys, he did, and his sisters, sometimes— and–

Jaehaera flattens her lips against one another. “I am simply saying I chose to believe in what my husband tells me, as he proved he does not lie,” she says softly, and he thinks it another cynical joke, until she continues. “That is not meaningless to me. That is all.” 

“Jaehaera…” he starts to say, but he scarcely knows what to speak next. He is vexed to dry lips as he stares at her own. His word must be written in stone, as King, but he holds her arm tighter. Firm in decisions and firm in their enforcement. When he passes on, he wishes no decision to keep him haunting this red brick castle, nor the land it presides over. He means to do well with his own stubbornness, yet he feels some turmoil in his gut. 

Viserys says he wishes to live as if he is dead, but he still finds himself so easily stirred. He gulps it down, wills it all away. Calm down.

“Your Grace,” Samantha Tarly suddenly appears beside, her brood of children behind her. Her eyes crinkle at his wife. “And our royal kin,” she says, reaching to hug his wife. “I have not seen you for so long. You are radiant today.” 

Jaehaera allows her a hug, though it is quite the overstep; Lady Sam does not really know her, and they are kin by her marriage to a Hightower Jaehaera hardly knew as well. Their arms unlock from one another, and Jaehaera rushes to the point of it all. “May I walk about the room with Lady Sam, husband?”

And yes, Aegon knows why she is so persuasive of the idea. Life at Oldtown would be easier for her, he knows. He’d assume life anywhere but here would be easier. He could not bear to stay long in Dragonstone, where his mother’s death had taken place, but she had managed to survive nine years in the place that hunted her family. Though perhaps it is their family as a whole .

And how long will I have to wait to leave here? He suddenly wants to reach for her arm again. He shifts on his feet, unnerved. 

This was always the plan. 

There is turmoil in his gut, but he soon nods. “As you wish, wife.”

—

Samantha’s six children waddle after them like ducklings. Every few moments, Jaehaera looks behind her step to see the little towers not tripping on either of their skirts. There is true fear there; there is no need to add blood to the snot that already decorated their noses.

“Attentive, are you?” Lady Samantha says. “You have grown so much since I’ve last seen you. You used to be such a shy thing, hiding behind anyone you could find, but now you seem to have a place to hide your own littles.” 

“A most profound way to say I am no longer eight, Lady Sam,” Jaehaera tells her, maintaining an even smile. Lady Samantha is a cattier girl, more outspoken than most. She tries to blend into her image; she would very much like to be as brave. For years Lady Sam had stood by her decisions and rebelled High Septon to approve them as true. While not being complacent, she still forged her own life. 

“I am trying to say you have much grace and wits about you, Your Grace,” Lady Sam huffs. “The King too had quite grown. You look like a dashing unit. Dare I hope there is a purpose to this ball? A declaration for a happier realm?”

Jaehaera bites her lips. She had been thoroughly glad Lady Sam found her when she did. She never denied her husband was comely, but she did not expect any of her words to come as a surprise nor lead him to his intent gaze. She never wished it to be upon her before, and she had felt bare to his eyes under the loom of his broad figure. 

She had never been scared of him, including now but perhaps it is herself that she should’ve minded more. She liked that gaze, and the tightening hold of his arm. All her life she rather wanted to flee, but despite expectations, she did not feel trapped.

Jaehaera had simply meant to express gratefulness, how did she end up so chilled to her core?

“I, well…” she looks down at the floor. She oft refused to allow her and Aegon’s circumstances to chain her into reaching for him for any carnal comfort, but Lady Sam inserted that thought into her mind as brazenly as she inserted herself into Lord Lyonel’s bed. She can’t avoid the flush on her face, but she also knows this is her time to act in their plan. “I fear that is not in my cards, Lady Sam.”

The words feel rather uncomfortable on her lips, and Lady Samantha Hightower is nothing if not sharp to note as much. Immediately, she switches her demeanour to a more tentative one. “You believe there is no… fruit to be had?” 

Jaehaera clears her throat. “No,” she says, voice small. “And the realm is tired of waiting.” 

“I like fruit,” Samantha’s youngest child suddenly notes, holding his mother’s skirts, sniffling back snot. “I want a pango.”

Samantha rolls her eyes. “You mean mango, Arthur,” she says, and turns to the other kids. “Go look for some, all of you. Together. The first to find one will ride around the city with me.” 

The children are spurred into action, and they watch them rush away. One of them faceplants onto the floor midway, but luckily their father, Lord Lyonel helps him up, and soon is dragged to help the children on their quest. 

“Children are a workload at times,” Samantha says quietly. “The King seems content still, and you are still young.”

“He is pressured by his court, and I’ve never been his court’s favourite.”

“If my Lord Hightower had managed to resist pressure from the Starry Sept, so can the King from his court.”

“We’re not you and Lord Lyonel, Lady Sam,” she says tentatively, her eyes finding Aegon’s tall figure all too easily - he is with his sister, Baela, and one of her Celtigar companions. Jaehaera looks away quickly, suddenly feeling an illness in her gut. Samantha scoffs.

“If men aren’t as fickle as leaves. To think only moments ago his eyes latched upon you so..” she inhales. “His brother is a widower, is he not? With three children to boot. I would’ve gone to his bed, if I were you.”

“Lady Sam!” Jaehaera’s eyes become saucers. If she had been sick at her unforeseen possessiveness on her husband, thinking of Viserys in his stead — she could barf . “Do not even suggest it!”

“Well, I would… but in your case. Garmund and Rhaena may toil to compete with us to fill the Hightower, but should you ever need to come to Oldtown, you will have a place. Between ten children, what is one more aunt?”

Ruckus comes from behind, and they see Lyonel attempting to settle a dispute between the children over who found the mango first. Jaehaera is quite appalled at the display. Her kittens are wild animals and they never fought so hard over a thing. 

Lady Sam excuses herself to go help, and Lord Lyonel looks at her as if she is a godsent angel coming to his rescue. The children do look rough to sort out; but that familial moment does look rather sweet. And it should be, this family would be nothing but teeth rotting to live with, but Jaehaera can’t help but feel incredibly sour.

—

A few days pass, and Aegon is walking through the gardens with a Velaryon girl that Baela and Alyn seemingly manifested from thin air. She is a pretty one, but he can’t quite focus on what she is saying at all. 

In all honesty, he finds his mind rather preoccupied. After the ball he has seen Jaehaera only once, when going back to Maegor’s Holdfast. She had been all smiles early into the evening, but at evening’s end she had been abnormally quiet. Before they parted in the hallway separating their rooms, she quickly told him Lady Sam seemingly welcomed her to her home should she wish for a place in it… and escaped to her private quarters in a rush.

He does not know how to feel about it. They could’ve talked some more, could they not? She should’ve told him more, anything. He accepted it all already, but it felt all too sudden. He thought of going after her, but when he tried to think of what to say further, he couldn’t come up with a thing. She had made her choice, what more could he say?

I swore to her she could choose.

Aegon had penned the letter to the High Septon. The request of annulment has been stamped with his own seal, and is waiting to be sent by raven to the city his wife wishes to escape to. The Small Council had told him to do so when he had his assured pick of a wife — they never intended to let him off the hook, nor stall for even a moment’s time.

The day is a fine, sunny day, and the birds are chirping gleefully from the trees planted between the flowerbeds, but he feels properly forsaken.

“Your Grace, are you well?” Lady Daenaera asks him kindly. She is properly perceptive despite being on the younger side. Ugh. He had given Baela a truly dirty look when she presented her, for she had been three and ten… but then his sister whispered to his ears her own ploy. If you wish not for a wife, perhaps you’d  be better off starting with a companion. Daenaera spots a stone bench not far away from them, and flutters gracefully to it. “Let us sit. It is rather hot today.” 

She takes her place, poised in her seat, and taps the stone surface for him to join. I should at least be mannerly.

“Fret not,” he says as he joins her. Perhaps he ought to at least entertain her some. “The sun has yet to have found the way to strike me down, unfortunately.”

Daenaera blinks at him. “Unfortunately…?” she asks, and he sees the contemplation of her mind through her eyes. He feels the deepest shiver of embarrassment coursing through his spine. Seven fucking hells. Daenaera clears her throat. “You mustn’t say that, your Grace. I’d rather believe the sun a form of sustenance, if already,” the girl recovers faster than he does.

If he wished to disappear beforehand, he most certainly wishes he could disappear now.

“Yes, most certainly,” he answers stoically. “Baela does say there is nothing quite like feeling the sun upon you as you sail.”

Now, that is. Riding her dragon had been her love when they were children, but Moondancer is long gone. He feels an awful man, knowing it makes him feel safer, and it makes him feel worse, knowing he should be ashamed of it. Morning still frightens him; he is often nervous at the thought of visiting Rhaena knowing it waits at Oldtown too. Gods, Jaehaera is going to live with the pink beast as well.

Daenaera nods. “I would daresay it is like a hug. The scent of the salt sea is carried by the cold wind, but the sun keeps you warm with its embrace… Oh!” she suddenly exclaims, and for a moment he is confused, but then he feels a scratch by his pants. Looking down, he sees a pale young cat meowing at him. He quickly climbs on his lap. “How cute. Who’s this?”

“Ah, my wi—” he catches himself before he says it, though his tone falters henceforth. “One of the courtyard’s cats. This is Rys. He’s very good at catching mice, and very good at asking for meals.”

The little thing likes to persters him, less recluse than its parents watching from the green hedges. Jaehaera had been deeply connected to it, letting it into her rooms when she had been younger. The servants hadn’t been pleased with the tears he had brought to the furniture, but he had told them to let her be. Cats of all things they can manage in their keep.

He had not been dense enough to not realize that his name had been homage to her fallen twin. All her kittens' names implied her lost family members. When he had been younger, he had swallowed down anger, but he soon grew out of it when Rys had started following him around. Before Viserys had been returned alive to Westeros, that kitten had been representative of two deceased brothers.

Aegon pats the cat’s head gently. She may want to take him with her. The little thing nuzzles against his hand.

“Such a sweet thing. He loves you so,” she remarks fondly. Aegon finds himself withering only more and more. You have offered this annulment. 

“Would you like to pet him?” he forces himself to ask. It is at that exact moment that he notices Daenaera has distanced herself to the very edge of the stone bench away from him. She smiles at him awkwardly.

“I wished I could, but you see…” she scrunches her nose as if to hold back a sneeze. “Cat’s hair is something I’m rather sensitive to.”

He holds himself from cussing. There is cat hair, noticeable, white cat hair, all over his black clothes. He can’t believe this. Even my most mundane of days are fucking miserable.

Aegon holds onto Rys and stands up. “You should’ve said so, my lady,” he sighs out. “I do apologize then, I didn’t mean you discomfort… we may be better off continuing this meeting another time,” he looks down at himself; he isn’t sure if the servants would be able to get the fur out. “In different clothes, certainly.”

“No, no, you have caused me no discomfort, Your Grace,” she is hasty to reply. “Thank you for your time, and introducing me to the kitten as well. He is a part of the Keep, regardless of if I stay or…” Daenaera fiddles with her hands nervously. He wonders how much she is trying to force herself to fit. Baela and Alyn surely goaded her to do her best, and had not been an unkind companion, but he needs not a child to validate him. 

A rustle comes from the hedges, and he sees Gon and Lena weasling out of the bushes. Rys too jumps from his hands, to poor Daenaera’s fright and sneezes alike. He looks to where they are going — and clearly, it is for food brought by maidservants, and maidservants brought by…

Jaehaera.

Aegon meets his wife’s eyes, and halts. They are clear violets, nor melancholic orchids, but furious mauves. She is glaring daggers at him. 

At first he is taken by surprise. Then, he is angry. After all he had done for her? After all he is doing for her? You plague me for days on end and you think you get to scorn me?

Daenaera lowers her head to Jaehaera, trying to sniffle back the snot from her sneezes. “Your Grace!”

Jaehaera looks the girl up and down once, and storms away with tight fists. 

Daenaera seems at a loss of words, frozen in place — and he may have properly lost his mind. His legs start to stride after his wife on their own. 

—

Jaehaera is reeling from head to toe from what she has seen. 

It is one thing for him to look for a second bride. She knows he has little option in doing so. Despite her ladies-in-waiting’s staunch refusal to be possible alternatives to her, she had been willing to help him find a woman trustworthy and capable enough to be his new Queen, but this?

Little Daenaera Velaryon had been just that; little. A child. And an orphaned child, on top of all. She had raised her eyebrows when Alyn and Baela had brought her with them, but she pushed it aside, knowing the girl had been a companion to their daughter. 

She had talked to her before. She knows the sweet girl’s exact life story; mother dead to Winter Fever, and father who had felled while waging war. Baela and Alyn fostered her henceforth, and Daenaera had held them both in the highest esteem for it. 

Jaehaera couldn’t blame them if they saw her as a Queen in the making. The girl is beautiful, well-mannered, and charming to boot, but that does not change the fact she is three and ten, and most undoubtedly pushed to the role.

Jaehaera’s mother had been pushed to marriage at three and ten, and then pushed to her death as queen at no less than three and twenty. She is walking the bridge above the moat where her queenly mother has perished years before just now — how could he? He knows how hard it is to bear the crown. He hates it more than anything, how could he?

“Jaehaera!” she hears Aegon’s voice and stomps following her. She hastens her pace. She doesn’t want to talk to him; if she does she may just cry to his face, may just push him down the moat too. Of all people, how could you do this?

Aegon’s legs are longer than hers. She is barely within the confines of the Holdfast when he reaches and grabs her arm. 

“What is the matter with you?!” he has the gall to yell to her face. “You frightened your own maids and servants, not to mention Lady Daenaera.”

Do not speak to me about my maids nor my cats! As if he hadn’t held her kitten in his ploy. “For the while I am still here, they will bear my bursts, as they always have,” she snarls at him back. “Lady Daenaera is not yet their lady.”

It is hard for her as it is. Her maids and ladies-in-waiting had been so solemn after she had told them she’d likely leave. It had been so clear she could barely bring herself to leave her rooms and face them without her lash lines prickling with tears. And her cats, she thought to take them, but then again — she couldn’t take them all, and she sees all too well that this is their home, that they are used to. Aegon’s hands were safe for Rys.

Aegon’s hands are safe. They had been safe and they had been hers. She can’t look at him. If she does…

“Anyone who thinks you’d beg a thing of me is denser than a rock.”

You’re going to make me beg. Beg that he won’t betray her own belief in him doing this, if not beg him to let her stay. She can’t beg, she can’t be this weak. She is almost on her way away from here, why must she keep looking back ? It hurts. 

She tears herself away from him and tries to run towards her apartments in the Holdfast, but Viserys and his children are blocking the way. Naerys wakes in the hands of her nursemaid and Aemon seems to grow alert. Little Aegon says something, but she can't even comprehend it. Their father, Viserys only sports some confusion on his face seeing her, but she hears his voice when he calls out to his brother. 

She runs to the opposing hallway, until that hallway ends, and she’s by the King’s quarters.

Jaehaera hears her husband’s steps from behind her coming to a halt.

“Will you stop running away from me?” he asks. She is reticent to answer, there is a bile in her throat. He steps one step forward. “Jaehaera, please .”

“She is a child,” she finally says, voice a moment from breaking. “It will hurt her.”

Aegon is silent for a moment. “She wouldn’t be my first choice either, but Viserys married her age. Younger, even.”

She turns to him in fury, coming up to his face. She will not dare speak it above a whisper, Viserys’s children are not far away, but he should know better. “And Lady Rogare could not stand this court any more than any of us, and left him more than hurt. You know this.”

Jaehaera finally meets his dark purple gaze again. It is glassy.

He nods in melancholy. “Perhaps so. But we married younger,” he says shakily. He is holding her hands; his hands are warm. They are gentle; they are safe. “And now you are leaving me.” 

I am. She can’t tear away her eyes from him. I am leaving. His face is getting closer. I am leaving and never looking back. His forehead is pressed against hers. I will be happy in Oldtown. I will be happy anywhere else but…

Aegon’s lips are pressed against hers. 

Here.

She takes his face in her hands, and kisses him back.

—

He isn’t sure how they danced their way into his quarters. They have stumbled with each other within. Aegon is half bent for their kiss, one hand on the arm holding his face and the other on the small of her back, trying to hold against her leading, pushing small frame.

Aegon has gotten tastes of her touch before, but he had never realized before how she speaks through it. She had never not been honest, even if lying would have benefited her, but her hands and holds are a burst of anything he couldn’t expect. He falls back on his bed as his shins meet with its frame and she sits his lap before he could even think to contest it.

Her hands do not leave his face for more than a moment, and she is in such a frenzy she seems to forgo breathing. It makes his head spin, as if his heart does not already beat out of his chest. He never before minded the thought of his own heart failing him, cutting his days short, but now he only wants this moment longer.

“Jaehaera,” he breathes in between her pecks. She is scarcely listening, leaning more and more of her weight on him as she demands their lips’ touch. It is so brand new he can’t comprehend it, and it dawns on him that she can’t, either; she does not clutch him so for no reason. “Jaehaera, wait…”

“Kiss me,” her plea is frustrated. “Ple—”

He takes a hold of her face and stamps a hard, prolonged kiss onto her lips. I will not have you begging.

She stops, takes it in, and undeniably melts in his hands. Her hands fall and she holds onto the fabric of his doublet. She sighs sweetly when he caresses her hair. He pecks her more gently, listening attentively to her soft breaths. 

When he leaves her lips to take her in, she speaks straight to his soul.

“I will not leave you,” she tells him, so seriously it makes his heart ache. “I refuse to go.”

It hits Aegon somewhere too tender. He has no trust to lend to almost anyone. People come and go. They slip away to happier places; they disappear, they die, and he is left behind here. 

Even those he loves, he fears he only deigns to wither with him. He hurts even Viserys in his own incapabilities of carrying these burdens. But he could help Jaehaera escape it, he swore it to her ages ago, yet he can’t let her go. You are the only one who understands…

His own incapabilities have him failing at every turn, but he can’t do anything about it. He loves her. Aegon smiles up at her.

“You can go, lady wife, when I fade to ash on my pyre.”

Jaehaera’s face brightens up. The smile stretches across her face wide with a chuckle, and she brings her fingers to the buttons of his doublet. Each one she undoes strikes lightning onto him, and eventually, her hand lands on his chest, only the thin, flimsy shirt underneath protecting him as she pushes his back down the mattress. 

“As long as you know you will not do so any time soon,” she says, lowering her face against his for their noses to just touch. “You are mine while you are still warm.”

Aegon beams at her, and takes her kisses with stride and joy. He minds not a long life, if he has her to lean on.

—

When the time for the next Small Council arrives, Jaehaera enters it with Aegon, a piece of sealed, parchment paper in her hands. 

The lords come up from their seats in some haste. They are all confused at her appearance; she had never been a part of the councils, even if as Queen she had a right to request a seat. The only one that remains at his seat in the Hand of the King, Viserys—

While the rest of the lot are very much at a loss, he takes one look at his brother, and understands. 

“His Grace, Her Grace,” The Master of Coin, Lord Isembard Arryn, looks up to the two of them as Aegon takes his seat at the head of the table. “Is there a reason the both of you are here..?”

“The Queen requested her place,” Aegon answers plainly. He looks at the Kingsguards, rather annoyed. “Would anyone fetch her a chair?”

Jaehaera looks down, stifling a chuckle. Ser Raynard Ruskin quickly rushes to find her the seat. Grand Maester Munkun looks between her, Aegon and Viserys, while Lord Thaddeus Rowan is the one that asks of the elephant in the room.

“Her Grace is of course welcome. Yet, it seems to me something has shifted without us knowing?” 

Aegon hums, and turns his gaze to her. “Would you like to tell them, wife?”

Jaehaera takes center stage, at the same time Ser Raynard brings her chair to the table. She smiles at her husband. Gladly. She shows the councilmen the paper in her hands.

“This has been the petition for annulment we had planned to send to the High Septon, you see,” she presents it for all of them to see — only to soon take it in both hands, and rips it apart, letting the pieces of it fall on the table. “His Grace and I believe it had been a hasty decision yet still. As far as we are concerned it is null itself.” 

“Forgive me, your Grace, but the matter of an heir…?” Lord Arryn asks, almost rudely — but neither her nor Aegon are the one to answer him.

“Will surely sort itself out soon enough, if your royal lieges believe it well enough to renounce this decision,” Viserys says, cutthroat. His eyes fall back on her, reliable but challenging. “You better sit, Your Grace. It is an arduous path to care for a King and a Kingdom, and far more so with children to come.” 

Jaehaera sits down opposing him. Aegon sends his brother a quick glare, but it soon dissipates to a smile when Jaehaera takes a hold of Aegon’s hand.

“That is a path I’m willing to walk.” 

tag list: @boohoneyy, @serymn31, @dreams-cynicism, @shslkokoro, @sanbond, @tremendouswolfsaladranch dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

[phantlvs]

Dabi / Touya Todoroki | Brother of Mine

Phantom Notes | PLATONIC, more fem!reader, visiting Dabi in hospital, Dabi survived, Todoroki reader, reader is younger than Shoto, just roll with stuff that doesn’t necessarily make sense, I’m not at all caught up in mha

Fuyumi sighed, watching you, “Please, be careful..” Her voice was soft. She wasn’t planning to stop you. She knew she couldn’t. You were stubborn. A trait almost all of her sibling had.

You looked over your shoulder at her, a soft smile reaching your lips after a moment when you turned to look at her, “Don’t worry, Yumi. I’ll be fine.” You told her.

Fuyumi sighed again, reaching out to grab your hand when you offered it to her. You held her hand for a moment before letting it slip out of her grip and exiting the home that was never truly a home.

Fuyumi was the only thing that made it a home for you.

Fuyumi was the only sense of stability you had.

Your mother was in the mental hospital for a majority of your life before of Endeavor. Shoto was always training with him. You’d see him crying a lot. And honestly, you were jealous when UA implemented dorms. He was able to get out.

But you were only a year younger than him. Too young to go to UA yet.

You looked at your phone when it buzzed.

> Yumi (7:23 am): Be. Careful.

You rolled your eyes, putting your phone away and looking across from you where you sat on the bus.

“Mama,” a little girl pulled on her mother’s sleeve, “Mama.”

“What?” Her mother looked down at the girl.

“Want ice cream.” The little girl told her.

The mother looked down at her for a moment before a soft smile came to her face, “Alright. We can get some ice cream.”

You watched the two. You hated moments like these. Moments when your attention would move to fathers and/or mother with their children. Fathers and mothers who loved their kids. Who would do anything for them.

Mothers who weren’t abused. Fathers who weren’t abusers.

You were jealous. Even if you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t.

The bus came to a stop. You stood from your seat, staying a moment to help an elderly woman just getting on sit down where you had sat.

You looked up at the hospital. No doubt bustling inside.

“Hello,” the woman greeted you.

“Hi.” You gave her a soft smile.

“Will you be visiting today?” She asked, clicking a few buttons on the computer before moving to grab a piece of paper and a clip board.

“Yeah, I will.” You told her, taking the clipboard and pen out of her hand.

“That’s nice,” she smiled. She looked sweet. “What’s your name and who will you be visiting?”

“My name is Y/n Todoroki, and. Um..” You hesitated for a moment. You had never said his name before. “I’ll be visiting Touya.. Todoroki..” Hour voice was soft. But she heard it.

You knew she did. Her eyes widened and lips fell agape as she stared at you. “Alright just.. Fill out the paper there.” She told you, trying to keep the shock off of her face. She was unsuccessful.

You nodded, moving over in case anyone else were to come in.

You scribbled down your name, your age, your quirk. And you paused over name of who your visiting and their information.

‘How do I know him?’ You said your yourself in your head. It was a checklist. You could check off how you knew them.

⬜️ Father

⬜️ Mother

⬜️ Brother

⬜️ Sister

⬜️ Friend

⬜️ Other

Your hand froze over the ‘brother.’ Could you even call him that? You were born after he ‘died.’ You never knew him apart from any story Fuyumi told you. Natsuo would avoid the topic any chance he got.

You scribbled in the box, handing the paper over to the woman at the desk.

“Okay, um..” she looked over the paper. “5th floor, room 538.” She told you, giving you a glance.

“Okay, thank you.” You told her, giving a soft smile she reciprocated before you moved to walk away.

You stood quietly in the elevator, clicking buttons people who would get on asked for.

“Papa,” your gaze moved to the little boy holding on to his father’s hand. His father hummed. “Will mama be okay?” Your heart practically broke as you listened silently.

“Yeah..” The father responded after a moment, “She’ll be fine..” His voice was quiet, as if he was trying to convince himself too.

The ding of the elevator set off. You looked up to see what floor it was. 5.

You felt a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach. Like a weed in a garden. You let out a soft breath as you moved forward, exiting the elevator.

The floor was quiet for the most part. You listened to the sound of your shoes as you walked. Looking into some rooms as you passed.

503.

504.

You looked down at the floor.

515.

516.

517.

518.

You let out a shaky breath, looking at your feet again.

528.

529.

530.

You flexed your hands. Clenching them and unclenching them. Popping your fingers.

536.

537.

538.

You froze in front of the room. Staring at the number. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The door was cracked open, but not enough you could see anything or anyone.

You shuffled a foot moved, going to knock on the door but hesitating.

You shook your head gently. Trying to shake out your nerves which didn’t work.

Your fist settled on the door a few times in a soft knock. At least just trying to make anyone aware you were about to come in.

You pushed the door open gently and slowly. Almost cautiously. Almost fearfully.

You peeked in when you could see more, you saw him in bed.

You could tell how much pain he was in.

His eyes were just barely open. His gaze settled over at the door.

You pushed the door open a bit farther, moving just a bit into the room so he could see you a bit better and you could see him a bit better.

He stared.

You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Who in the hell are you?” His voice was hoarse.

“I..” you looked up at him quickly, almost startled. “I’m um..” you let out a soft breath. “Y/n Todoroki.”

You almost saw what you assumed might be shock.

“I um..” you weren’t sure what to say. You probably planned out some like.. speech or something.

“Well you’ve grown up.” His voice broke your thoughts.

“What..?” You asked softly.

“You’ve grown.” He said, voice quieter.

You moved out of the doorway and a little farther into the hospital room.

“You look like mom.” He said abruptly.

You paused, staring at him for a moment.

In truth, you looked a lot like Fuyumi too. But the red in your hair was more scattered around, at your roots, the middle, and the tips.

You inherited your mom’s gray eyes too.

“You think..?” You asked softly. Almost awkwardly. You fidgeted with your hands at your front.

“Yeah..” He spoke, his gaze traveling over your face. “Especially the eyes.”

You looked down at your hands for a quick moment.

“You can see your emotions in your eyes.” He said, “Just like mom.”

You moved to grab a chair, moving it closer to the side of his bed before you sat down.

“How..” you looked at him. “How is she?” He asked, voice still hoarse. You stared at him for a moment.

“She’s.. She’s well.” You told him with a curt nod. “She was finally released from the Psychiatric ward. Just a little while before..” You paused.

“The war.” He finished your sentence.

“Yeah..” Your voice was quiet.

A silence fell over the room. One that wasn’t so uncomfortable, but very awkward for you.

“Why are you here?” He asked bluntly.

“I..” you looked at him. “I just..” you looked down for a moment. You took in a breath, calming yourself down.

You were alone a lot. Being the youngest in the Todoroki family was undoubtedly hard. Not as hard as being any of the oldest, but..

You were pushed to the side. Endeavor had gotten the quirk he wanted out of Shoto and he put all of his attention and time and effort into Shoto. He didn’t care about you.

Natsuo was always trying to get away from the house. Rei was in the Psychiatric Ward a majority of your life.

Fuyumi was all you had. She took it upon herself to raise you.

“I’m in your debt Fuyumi,” you told your older sister.

“Huh!” She looked at you, almost startled. “What! Don’t even say that!”

“You raised me, that wasn’t your job, Yumi.” You told her, “therefore, I am in your debt!”

“I was just worried about you.” You finally said.

“Worried..?” He repeated, looking over at you. “You don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry for what Endeavor did..” You told him abruptly, looking down.

“Don’t apologize for that asshole,” he told you.

“I’m not apologizing for him,” you said. “I’m apologizing for what you had to go through.”

He was at a loss for words as he stared at you. You were stubborn. It was so easy to tell.

You were stubborn like him and Natsuo.

But the care in your eyes.. that was undoubtedly like Fuyumi’s.

That’s a dangerous combination. The stubbornness of him and Natsuo and the caring kindness of Fuyumi.

He let out a huff. “What’s your quirk?”

“Scalding Frost.” You told him, “I can create a frost like mom’s, but it’s all incredibly hot so the frost melts almost instantly. But I can control the hot water once it melts.”

“Hm..” he hummed.

You sat in the quiet for awhile. You staring down at your fidgeting hands, him stuck in his thoughts while staring at the plain ceiling.

You looked Rei. You had her eyes you could see every emotion in. You could see all the care, all the worry.

He saw it immediately when you had peeked into the hospital room.

“You give Endeavor hell?” He asked abruptly.

“Huh?” You looked at him before getting what he meant, “Oh!” You practically lit up. “Mhm, mhm,” you hummed while nodding your head. “I can’t give him hell like Natsuo or Shoto. But I give him the cold shoulder a lot!”

“Heh,” a lazy smirk of amusement came reached his lips, “good.”

Your eyes widened slightly. He looked. Almost proud.. Proud that you would give your so called father the cold shoulder.

Your heart warmed.

He was.. Proud. Proud of you. You..

“I should probably get going!” You stood up abruptly.

He looked at you.

“I’ll try to visit again tomorrow,” you promised, looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved you off.

“No,” He looked at you, “I’m going to visit again tomorrow!” You told him stubbornly. “I just have training, but I’ll visit after that!”

@phantlvs

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Hearts Entangled

Summary: With the declining rate of omegas, alphas have become desperate, and betas are fighting back. In the midst of war, Y/N and her brother get separated and Y/N finds herself in trouble.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader x Alpha Steve

Warnings: Violence mentioned, Blood

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Not beta’d. First time writing in the first person, but it suits the storytelling better this time around. What POV do you guys like best? Should I change the POV? Do I know where this is going? Absolutely not but let's go! Enjoy this from the vault.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

The world slows when you’re dying. The mind struggles to grasp anything tangible. Staring up at the blur of blue and white, I knew I was slipping away, fading into nothing, just like my mother. Bitten by an alpha, she changed, presented as an alpha herself. My father put her down before she could turn feral. That sent Basil into a frenzy. He nearly killed our father. He would have if I wasn’t in the room. It didn’t matter if alphas and betas were at war. It didn’t matter if our mother was the enemy; to us, she was just mom.

Basil might have aided the humans in the war if it hadn’t been for our mother’s murder. His need for vengeance was too great. Omegas are a rarity nowadays. The news is a montage of horror, always reporting on how many alphas turned humans. Omegas were already a dying species, but with the war, so were the alphas. My brother feared if I was bitten, that our father would murder me as well. Basil always joked that I was like mom, stubborn.  Maybe I should have listened to him when he told me to stay home. Maybe if I hadn’t gone searching for him when he didn’t come home last night, my hand wouldn’t be sticky with my own blood.

A hiss followed by a low whine escaped my lips as my hand pressed into the wound on my side. I had to get home. What if Basil returned after I left? He would never know what happened to me; no one would. Well, no one except the guy who shot me.

SNAP.

My head rolled to the side, peering through the trees. Details were a blur, but I was able to make out blotches of color. I squinted my eyes, dirt and rocks stabbing my cheek, reminding me I wasn’t dead yet. My chest heaved as the trees danced before me.

SNAP.

This time the noise was closer. Whatever was coming to finish me off didn’t care about being caught. It wasn’t like I could defend myself if I tried. I hoped it was just an animal or somehow my brother had magically found me; the sane part of my brain screamed that it was the person who shot me.

It was none of the above.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder. I could feel the heat seep through the sleeve of my crimson-stained t-shirt. Blinking slowly at the person crouched beside me, I wanted to speak, but my lips weren't moving. His were. Whatever he was saying, I couldn't make out. I was too stunned to attempt to read his lips, but I knew he was non-threatening. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t-

A shrill scream reverberated through the woods.

My chest burned from the inside out, and I knew that scream came from me. With slow movements, I gazed down at my stomach. One of the stranger’s hands sealed over my own. The other held my chin, blood coating both of his hands. I tried to follow the pink of his lips, to make sense of anything he was saying. I strained to focus on the yellow of his hair or the blue orbs observing my every move. In the end, my eyes flapped shut.

Searing pain dashed up my right arm drowning out any other pain. Just as quickly as it emerged, it evaporated. Suddenly my lungs were flooded with oxygen, my breath livelier than before. Fresh linen suffocated my nostrils. Had I died? The lids of my eyes tremored before springing open. For the first time, I could see him clearly. His slicked-back yellow hair paled into champagne. His slightly overgrown beard was several shades darker. His nostrils flared.

“Omega,” the man purred.

My eyes latched on his piercing stare. Amid his blue eyes were flecks of green. He was gorgeous. I was the first to break eye contact, my focus glued to my arm. Teeth marks tattooed on the inside of my wrist. Panic invaded all of my senses. Basil’s worst fears were coming true right before my eyes.

“You were dying-” the man trailed off. “It won't scar.”

“You expect me to thank you?” I snarled.

He shook his head, running his dry, blood-stained fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to turn you. I was trying to lure the betas away. You got mixed in the crossfire.”

I wanted to ask if he had been the one to shoot me, but from what I could tell, he wasn’t carrying a gun. His back straightened as he scanned the trees. I didn’t see anything, but his body language turned alert. Danger was approaching.

“What’s your name?”

He stared down at me for a moment before responding, “Steve. Steve Rogers. You?”

I stretched my scarlet hand towards him. “Y/N L/N. Thank you.”

Steve paused with a raised eyebrow, gently shaking my hand. “We have to go. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He didn’t wait for an answer; Steve thrust my hands back against the hole in my side. “Keep pressure on the wound.” Then he was hoisting me up. Once again, my world was spinning. My head relaxed against his collarbone. The scent of fresh linen was more prominent but far from unpleasant. My muscles went limp, too relaxed to hold onto the man carrying me. Steve tensed, his grip tightening around my back and legs. A deep rumble ricocheted beneath my head, but I couldn’t make out what Steve said. How much blood did I lose? A drop of liquid sprinted from my scalp to the collar of my t-shirt. With a shaky hand, I wiped the fluid from my forehead. It was clear. Was I sweating? My palm lazily rested against Steve’s chest in an attempt to ground myself. I would have retracted my hand had I been stronger. The heat radiating from his chest was scorching. It was then that I realized I was burning up. His name was on the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t sure what I would say, but I hoped he would somehow understand. I never got to find out. His name never left my lips. My eyelids grew heavy, welcoming the darkness.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was blinded. A string of recessed lights hovered above me. Harsh blue lights beat down on my skin, reminding me of how my skin burned. I felt drenched, but this time, I was cool. Sinking my palms into the surface beneath me, I realized I was lying on a mattress. Sitting upright, something slipped from my arms. Reaching over the side of the bed, I hissed, pain radiating from my side.

“Take it easy,” a thick Russian accent uttered. “You don't want to tear stitches.”

With a hand over my stitches, I scanned the room for the voice. When I came up empty, I panted, rolling myself onto my back.

“Where am I?”

I jumped as a raven-haired woman suddenly appeared crouched beside the bed. Her piercing blue eyes were cold, unlike the man who saved me. Steve. Where was Steve?

“Medical wing,” the woman answered, plucking a damp cloth from the floor and dropping it on my arm. “Keep this on. It will stop fever.”

I blinked at the woman as she examined my wrist. She was tall and slender. Her jaw was as sharp as a razor, a stark contrast to her soft plump lips. Taking a deep breath, I was met with lavender. It was soothing yet sweet.

“You’re an omega?”

She hummed, dropping my hand a bit harsher than necessary.

“Who are you? Where’s Steve?” I croaked.

Her sharp eyes stared down at me with a lifted brow. She didn’t seem to want to be here anymore than I did.

“You talk a lot, no?”

Fuck this. I have to go home. I need to find Basil. Sitting up ignoring my groans of pain, I began yanking all of the damp rags from my skin. It’s not like they could keep me here. The corners of the woman's lips twitched as she folded her arms across her chest and stepped back. She wasn’t going to stop me. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hit the black tile. A cramp shot through my abdomen, strong enough to bring me to my knees had I not been holding onto the bed. Sweat began to bead along my forehead. I was lightheaded. Not again.

Before I could faint, an arm swooped around my back, guiding me onto the bed. Once again, I was draped in rags.

“You’re a stubborn little omega.” I would have snapped had it not been for the smile in the woman's tone. It reminded me of every time my brother had called me stubborn. In a way, it was soothing. “I’m Carla.” She paused, eyeing the shut door. “You don’t want to see that mutt right now. You’re in heat. Happens when you present.”

“But Steve-”

“Is mutt like rest of alphas around an omega, especially one in heat.” There was a bite in Carla’s tone. “If you want to leave, I won't stop you but trust me when I say you are better off here. Omegas are difficult to come by and you are already weak from gunshot. You’ll be claimed second you step out that door.”

My head reeled from all of the information. I wasn’t oblivious to the alpha and omega lifestyles, but I never intended to partake in it. My eyes flickered to the mating gland along her neck. Sensing my stare, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, concealing her gland. It was too late.

“You haven’t been claimed.”

The look in Carla’s eyes was murderous, her words a warning, “Mind your business, omega. You are patient, not me. I am helping you, not other way around. Remember that.”

I did. For the next week, while I was trapped in a delirious state, I relied on Carla. She was the only person to visit me in the medical room. It had been her delivering food or redressing my bandages. I began to crave her presence, but we rarely spoke. The observation I had made had struck a chord, a weak spot. Every time Carla entered the room, she appeared more on edge than the day before. I contemplated apologizing for bringing up what appeared to be a sore subject for her, but she didn’t seem like the type to dwell on something like that.

When my heat was finally over, Carla left the door unlocked. Her speechless way of allowing visitors or letting me wander. I opted for the latter. After several twists and turns, I discovered a door leading outside. Careful not to pull my stitches, I sprinted out the door. After being trapped in a room for a week, I was desperate to feel the sun on my skin again. Standing in an open field, I spun around taking in everything. A few feet away was a forest. Was it the one I had been dying in? How far was I from home?

“Hey, you’re up.” A shoulder bumped into my own. “How are you feeling?”

Fresh linen.

A smile crept onto my lips, my neck craning up to Steve. “Well, I’m alive.”

Steve nodded. “I can see that.”

“Thank you again, for saving me. I would have died out there if you hadn’t found me.”

Steve shook his head, his thumbs peeking from the pockets of his slacks. “You almost died because of me. That bullet was meant for me.”

Turning back to the line of trees, I shrugged off his last statement. I needed to focus on the positive. I was alive. It didn’t stop my curiosity from slipping into the front of my brain. “When you found me, you said you were drawing humans away.”

The man nodded, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “A friend of mine, Bucky, went missing. I was out searching for him when I came across you.”

Steve stood there with a far-off look in his eyes. I hadn't missed the sadness that crossed his face. His eyes searched the horizon with a sense of urgency as if the person or object he was searching for was the most important thing in the world.

“Your friend,” I paused, side-eyeing him, “did you find him?”

Steve shook his head, his eyes still trained on the forest. “Your arrival hasn’t exactly permitted me to travel.” The tips of his ears dusted a shade of pink.

I blushed at the idea of sending a man like Steve Rogers into a rut. Surely, he was mated.

“Sorry for leaving you with Carla. We don't have many omegas here. I can't imagine she was cordial the entire time.”

Remembering Carla’s comment, I gently rested a hand on Steve’s bicep. My hand dwarfed in comparison to the muscle beneath my hand. Steve’s head snapped in my direction.

“Omegas are rare, but she isn’t mated,” I pointed out.

Peaking over his shoulder toward the door, Steve released a deep exhale. “Her true mate rejected their bond. By the time she had found him, he already had a family. Didn’t want to break up the only family his pups knew.”

My hand slipped from his bicep as guilt washed over me. My head drooped to stare at the ground. Had I known, I wouldn’t have said anything to her about being unclaimed. It was a personal topic. Suddenly, a feather-light touch seized my chin, dragging my head upwards. My eyes locked on Steve’s deep blue orbs instantly.

“Don’t worry, she found another mate. One who wants her. My friend Bucky.”

“The one who is missing,” I asked, but I already knew the answer. No wonder Carla was on edge. Her mate was missing. Yet, I couldn’t help but think back to her smooth mating gland. Her mate had yet to claim her.

Steve nodded.

Subconsciously, I ran a hand along my mating gland. “And where is your mate?”

Steve released my chin as if I had burned him. His gaze returned to the trees. I should have learned my lesson from Carla. I should have minded my business, but I needed to know.

“My true mate,” Steve began, surprising me. I didn’t think he would answer. I followed his line of sight, giving him a sense of privacy, but my ears remained open. Steve continued, “was Peggy. She tried to put an end to the war. She’s dead now.”

There it was. I had once again managed to put my foot in my mouth. “I'm sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t known the pain of losing a true mate, but I knew love and I knew loss. It couldn’t be much different.

The atmosphere grew still as Steve lapsed into a prolonged silence. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze. His face turned skyward, allowing his long eyelashes to kiss his high cheekbones for a split second. Then his hand intertwined with mine, pulling me down to sit beside him in the grass.

“What were you doing in the woods when I found you?”

I had to bite my tongue from saying I was dying. It wasn’t appropriate after he opened up about his true mate. He was trying to change the subject, so I was honest. I pressed my chin to my chest, plucking at the grass beside me. “I was looking for my brother. I have to find him.”

A painful smile graced Steve’s lips. “I guess we're both looking for someone.”

While the statement was innocent, there was a longing in the way he said it. We both needed a mate.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I whispered.

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