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just-some-random-blogger · 4 months ago

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Tormented Spirit | 2

Part 1 2 3

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

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, smut (piv, loss of virginity, fingering, semi-public sex, Daemon talking you through it), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation/murder, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i am surprised I got as many comments as I did on chapter 1 🥺🫶 it's not that I think my writing is bad... Well... Idk it felt aimless when I started so I am grateful for the positive reinforcement. 👉👈 I am once again asking for more pls comment n reblog I would love u forever if u did | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

Daemon heads to your chambers, eager to shake you awake and ruin your morning once more. When he arrives to the room, he stops in his tracks, disappointed to see you were risen. That is, until he realizes the state you were in.

You roused long before the sun had and could not find sleep no matter how badly you searched. You decided to draw yourself a warm bath in hopes of finding sleep in the tub; you only find more restlessness and simply accept your fate.

You hear Daemon's entrance and turn to him from the vanity you were wallowing. You were half dressed. Your corset was undone and you had given up on braiding the sides of your head. You smile weakly at him, "good morrow."

Nothing about your tired, sullen eyes agreed with that, and it irritates him to know that you're one of those people. Pretenders.

"Well, finish up then," Daemon furrows his brows, "get dressed. We have yet to accomplish our task."

You mimic his expression, brushing your dark hair back, "task?"

He rolls his eyes, "I do not believe yesterday counts as an introduction."

Upon realizing he meant the introduction to Caraxes, your body tenses. You look sick. You stand to try and convince him out of it, but Daemon reaches you before you can get on your feet. He places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Your heart thunders when he brushes your hair to one shoulder. He secures your dress from behind, and your breath grows heavy as you watch him from the mirror.

"It is not so bad, riding a dragon," the prince says to plant a false sense of trust in you, "who knows? You might enjoy it."

There is an unnatural warmth that spills across your form when your husband then completes your braids. He weaves in a manner far gentler than Gwayne ever has. It makes your lips part.

He brings you to your feet. Daemon takes in your expression, lips curling slightly, "there you are, wife."

Your brows knit.

He knew his artificial gentleness has you off-guard. There is no better moment to have you do his bidding than now.

One might be surprised to know that Caraxes actually enjoyed having you on his back, as did Daemon, not because they suddenly liked you— gods no, but because the sound of your screams were oh-so satisfying.

You could do little else but release cries of terror as you clung to your husband from behind. Daemon made it a point to do flips and all sorts of unnecessarily moves whilst flying, hoping your hold would falter. The time you spent in the air felt like eternity. It seemed your husband was set on touring the entire 7 realms.

You never thought you would be so ever happy to see the pit. The pit could not say the same about you however. You spill your guts out to the floor exactly like the first time you were here.

Daemon makes a face. He turns to the keepers and orders them to clean your mess up, lest it get on Caraxes' claw.

Woe is you who is forced to repeat the exact thing the next morning. You could not even plead your case, for your throat was sore. The sound of your screams this time were not as entertaining to Daemon, as your voice is hoarse. At some point, the terror is too great, you cannot scream. Because of this, he cuts the flight short in boredom, excited instead at the promise of watching you suffer through another retch. But, oh, by the gods, were you an inconveniencing woman.

Instead of remaining consistent, you just had to make a show and faint into him, did you?

He could not care less for you, which is why he chucks you off into the arms of a dragon keeper, but the damned old man could no longer carry such a weight, and so he was begrudgingly forced to throw you over his shoulder and bring you to a maester himself.

In truth, he'd all forgotten about his wife fainting until the next morning, when he came to the maester's quarters to ask for something to soothe his hammering head from his heavy drinking the night before. He was, in fact, offended, when the maester insinuated that he had come to check up on his bride.

Before he could give the greying maester a piece of his mind, he hears a terrible voice barking from the ward. Its grating timbre made it clear to Daemon that Lord Hand Cunttower was off on a yapping session again.

He walks deeper into the room. Weeping sounds become audible.

"—no, you do not understand," Otto snaps, hunched over at the side of your bed.

Ah, twas you who was being terrorized.

You dare not turn to your father, for you knew your throat would only tighten more that it already has. You force yourself to take deep breaths, but it's easier said than done. You remain still on the bed you laid on.

"You must sire as many children as your body can take, or you will die," the man says.

But you were dying anyway.

"The process will not be pleasant."

Nothing is pleasant.

"It will hurt-"

Everything hurts.

"-but it is a better fate than-"

"Enough!" you snap, glaring at him with angry, red eyes. You repeat, though your voice is weaker, "enough, enough, eno-"

Otto gravely speaks your name. Your body recognized the danger, but having realized upon waking up to the face of a maester, it mattered little where or who it came from, you were destined to hurt- to die.

"Do not fall complacent be-"

"You are no longer my lord," you quip. Sweat forms on your nape. This is the first time you've ever interrupted your father.

He is gobsmacked. He is bewildered. His back straightens, "what?"

You feel yourself descend into heavy fraught. Your saliva tries to choke you.

"What," he presses, "did you say, girl?"

"You are my father," your voice falters, "but not my lord."

Otto's face warps.

Your breath grows shorter and shorter, "my liege lord is my-" pant "-husband, and what he-" pant "-desires, I will-" pant "-do."

Daemon's ears and brows perk at your misplaced loyalty. Part of him wants to laugh out loud and make himself known, but then he sees, even from where he stood, how it got Otto twisted. He chuckles to himself instead.

Your father enunciates as though he means to stab you with them, "you stupid fucking whore."

You crumble like chalk. You fall into another round of body arresting tremors. Your chest is tight and you screw your eyes painfully shut. It becomes apparent to Daemon, as it would anyone who'd witness, where your condition sourced. Otto grabs your shoulders, "you know nothing of-" but then recoils.

Daemon shoves him away, glaring as he says, "unhand her."

Otto manages to balance himself, but he looks as though the veins on his temples were about to pop. He clenches his jaw, "I am speaking to my daughter."

"You mean at her," his silver hair slips over his shoulder as he turns to you, "she does not look like she can hold conversation."

"This is personal matter," Otto steps forward.

"Mmm," Daemon turns back to him, "I do say, I am glad to have interrupted," he shifts on his leg, linking his fingers together, "a dutiful husband should know all personal matters of his wife. Don't you agree?"

Though you were still wrestling with yourself, you heard every word. You knew if you did not interject, they will fight each other for your carcass. You feel lightheaded, but you force yourself to open your eyes and speak.

Of course, the only sound you manage to make is a strangled and pained one.

Otto averts his attention to you, and tries to come to your side.

Daemon steps in front of him and tilts his head back, "oh... I would adore it if you give me a reason to kill you."

You choke out, "Daemon."

Your father stiffens as he looks past the said man to inspect you, missing the way the said man smirks. Otto turns back to Daemon, feeling bile spread in his mouth as the prince says, "see. She does not want you."

Otto's lips curl and his hands ball into fists.

Your husband waves a hand, "go away. You're clearly upsetting her."

Otto does the most to remain calm, "she is my da-"

"She is my wife," Daemon snaps, imposing upon him.

You gulp with difficulty as you catch the way your father's jaw clenches. You force yourself to sit up and open your mouth to speak, but everyone's attention is averted to the Kingsguard that walks into the room.

Daemon's forehead curls at the Cargyll knight, "my prince. Lord Hand."

"Which one are you?" asks the prince.

"Arryk, my prince."

"State your business, Arryk."

"I-"

"I requested a ward for the princess," Lord Hand answers instead.

Daemon makes a face at him and chuckles dryly under his breath.

Arryk looks between the two again then slowly continues, "I and my brother have been awarded the honor of serving ward to the Princess of Dragonstone. I take first watch today."

Daemon chuckles again, "a bit late, aren't you?"

The white cloak stiffens then bows, "I was just given word this hour."

"Hmm. Well, Arryk," he motions, "why don't you go escort the Lord Hand out of the room before someone dies."

He stiffens again, but turns to the said man nonetheless. He does not question it and merely does what was instructed.

Or at least tries to.

"I do not trust you with my daughter's well-being," Otto steps forward, pointing a finger to the ground, "you are the very reason she is in that bed."

Daemon gasps dramatically. At this point, you finally had enough wits about you to speak, "please-" but your voice is easily drowned out however.

"Do you not remember thanking my brother for the, what was it," the prince pretends to think, "joyous union? Or would you like to watch me stake my claim upon he—"

Otto's face twists in horror and repulsion, but that is not why Daemon's words are cut short. It is because of the cold, clammy, trembling hand that takes his own that he looks down. He watches as you sigh out, "leave us, father."

The said man turns to you in grave offence. In your fear, you do not notice the betrayal that is mixed with it. His anger flares and he scoffs. He gives you one last look, and you knew exactly it was just that. This would be last time he would ever look upon you. When he storms away, you feel it in your chest: this is the last time you will ever call him father. You were forsaken, truly forsaken.

Otto is seen out by Arryk.

Your hand slips from Daemon's, as you no longer had the strength. You muster all your remaining energy to reach the drink propped on your bedside table. It was a futile attempt though, as instead of grasping it, you knock it over, which only leads you into another fit of tears.

Daemon curses and shakes his foot that's gotten soaked. He did mean to snap at you for it, but you were already clearly suffering. Your breathing is short and it seemed like you were mumbling something.

He hunches over in an attempt to hear you, "what?"

It takes a myriad of repetitions for him to realize you were apologizing.

His face contorts, "gods," what pathetic creature had he been given to?

Daemon's upper lip curls and he can no longer bear the sound of your whining any further. He calls for the maester, asking for another cup of water because you had knocked over your own. Just as the maester goes off to get you another drink, he remembers he came here for his own affliction because his head begins to hammer again. He rubs his temples and sits on the vacant bed besides yours.

"Here, my prince," the maester says upon arrival, "milk of the poppy enough for the both of you."

Daemon squints as the man places a tray on your bedside table. Daemon is handed a cup first, but does not drink it until after he watches you be helped to drink your own fill. After, the maester promptly leaves with a curt nod. The drink does not take effect on you until after Daemon finishes his own

Your voice shakes, "t-thank you."

Daemon puts his cup down.

"You did not have to come," you say softly.

"Do not flatter yourself," he scoffs, "I did not come for you. I came for my headache."

"Yet it remains," you turn to him, face tight and gleaming from all the tears you've shed, "you did not have to come."

He stares at you for a moment. You looked so frail, so devoid of hope. Truly, death would be mercy to you at this point.

Just then, ser Arryk returns. He finally sees you and gives you a deep bow, "princess."

Being addressed as such makes you feel sad... and lonely.

"I am ser Arryk Cargyll. I will be your ward, along with my twin brother, Erryk, who you will meet after my shift." The kingsguard straightens up, "I will do all that I can to ensure your health does not falter and that you are always seen to."

You think of your own twin as you take in the man's features. The idea that your father purposefully chose twin brothers as your ward made you feel sad and sick, but it was hardly Arryk's fault Otto liked mocking you, so you smile at him, "I have a twin."

The man nods, offering you a smile far more genuine than yours, "aye. Ser Gwayne Hightower. He is deft with the short sword."

You turn to your hands, recalling just a few days ago when you had watched him train. Your lips curl upwards, "though, not as good as I."

Daemon pulls his head back, face contorting. He is taken aback when Arryk's sniggers. The latter nods, "perhaps you will show me your tricks, my lady."

There is a twinkle in your eye as you turn back to him, "perhaps."

Daemon raises a brow at the interaction and decides to stand, "come," he reaches a hand to you, "some fresh air would do you good."

Fresh air? Your jaw slacks and you turn to Daemon with a fallen expression. Be as it was, you were no fool. You did not believe your husband had your best interest in mind, and yet, it was not like you had much of a choice. Against yourself, you to take his hand.

He pulls you up and Arryk comes to your side to assist you. He helps you to your feet, hand on your arm and shoulder.

Daemon is annoyed by his fussing. "Yes. Very good, Cargyll. I can manage to bring her to the dragon pit myself."

You close your eyes and sigh. Just as you dreaded.

"Dragon pit?" Arryk repeats.

"Yes. She needs fresh air." The prince narrows his eyes, "do you contest me?"

Arryk releases you and shakes his head, "I would not."

"Good," he motions with nod, "out of the way then."

You see, after being scorched by the fire of your maker— your father, the sight of Caraxes emerging from the depths did not strike as much fear into you as it did before. In fact, the promise of malice from the beast felt... cathartic, and for once, you welcomed Daemon's insistence on being brought to its maw.

You stumbled against Caraxes' scaly cheek. Having done nothing but lay in the maester's chambers, your hair was not tied or braided in any way. As the wind blew, it tickled against the dragon's face. Caraxes did not seem to enjoy the sensation, and so he growled and snapped his teeth.

Daemon was quick to chastise his mount, and for that, he did not realize your lack of self-preservation. Oh, but Caraxes did; he even growled again, only to be met once more by your unflinching demeanor.

Daemon would only realize your change after taking flight and landing on a beach. Upon dismounting, Caraxes takes it upon himself to screech as you hover. The prince doesn't know who is more bewildered, him or his dragon, when you screech back.

Your neck veins pop and spit comes out of your mouth at the intensity of it all. A harsh wind blows your hair and your skirt. You heave after releasing such a harsh noise.

In truth, perhaps Caraxes is more perturbed as, unlike Daemon's who presses forward, the beast pulls back and shakes his head. He bleats as he watches his rider grab your arm.

The prince means to berate you for your insanity, but then, gods, you rather conveniently succumb to another arrest to your heart and lungs. He does not know why he catches you when your legs give in but he knows exactly why he suggests: "get in the water."

You look up at him, your glassy eyes meeting his violet ones.

He lets you crumble to the ground and bends down to undo your dress, "a swim would do you wonders."

"N-no- you will regret-" you sputter.

But Daemon ignores you, not that it took much effort, for you were incoherent soon enough.

He pulls you out of your dress until you're in nothing but your slip. You sob, and he hushes you, assuring he will be by your side. He removes his tunic. Soon, he is dragging you down deeper and deeper, and you are choking and spitting saltwater.

Daemon decides to simply release you and wait until your body floats lifeless. With how you were gasping, it would not take long. He turns his head when his face is splashed by your flailing arms. When he looks back, the water is calm and your body is nowhere to be seen.

... well, that was rather quick.

He waits for a moment, watching bubbles float up. After a while, he purses his lips and decides to go back ashore. He should have done this sooner.

He freezes when you emerge in front of him, pushing your brown hair off your face. He is perturbed by the serenity across your features; it was as though you were reborn.

You sigh, "I told you you would regret it."

Daemon blankly stares at you.

"There is a great river in Oldtown," you wade around, "the water there is not nearly as pleasant or warm as this, but still... swimming was one of the only ways I could calm myself."

His jaw clenches. He does not even try to hide his disappointment.

You lick your lips at it and turn to Caraxes, who was happily soaking in the sun from the sandy shore, "take heart. Your dragon might entertain himself by eating me yet," you turn to him, "or perhaps my Lord Hand will kill me himself."

His face twists, "what?"

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

He pulls his head back, offended and confused by your sudden nerve.

You allow your body to float up in the water, "you need not pretend. I know you long to kill me."

Daemon is insulted by your brashness. He grabs your floating hip and pushes you down until you're once again face to face. Not a semblance of fear is on your features. It only angers him further.

He snaps, "I could have your tongue for that."

He cannot deny the way his stomach rolls when you place your hands by the base of his neck. The complete change in your temperament puts him on edge. Have you been playing him all along?

"Would it not be simpler to have my head?" you speak plainly, as though you were genuinely curious of his response.

His nostrils flare.

Before he can act, you are swimming off. You emerge from the water, dripping wet. Your clothing is sheer and hugs every part of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could not help but look, but then he was sorely insulted all over when you pet Caraxes head and he lets you.

It was a twisted hallucination. He is suddenly reminded of the milk of the poppy he'd drank; you've probably poisoned him and planned all of this with your cunt father like the conniving whore you really were.

You do not hear him emerge, but only know he did because he is upon you. He forces you around through a severe squeeze on your arms, "what is your game, Hightower cunt?!"

Your body seizes, but you do not succumb to the thundering of your heart, as you had just been relaxed.

He shakes you, making you gasp, "SPEAK!"

"There is no game!" you whimper.

He chuckles dryly, shaking you harshly once more "perhaps it should be said that I need no assistance from my dragon to kill you."

A shiver runs down your spine, "please-"

"Then tell me th-"

"-just do it."

The sound of Caraxes huffing brings Daemon back to reality. And yet it takes you speaking, "just kill me," for him to realize you meant exactly what he thought.

He stills where you descend into further torment. He knows then that it is true. There was no plot, or at least not one where this creature of agony could ever oversee. You were calmed by the water, but not cured. Very truly, he thinks again death would be mercy, convenient for him as well. Yet, in his nature, Daemon does opposite of what he is told and pries his hands off. He mutters under his breath, "ao mūdas run," you terrible thing.

You sob, as if you understood him.

You shed tears unlike the others he's witnessed; there is no panic or fear, only pain.

"Surely you agree it is better than living this way."

The clarity of your voice takes him aback. He turns away, uncomfortable of your sudden agency.

"I have been this way since I can remember," you confess, "and they've all have counted my days for just as long."

"Why must I bloody my hands for you?" he squints, "if you despise living so much, do it yourself."

Your laugh is haunting. You shake your head and wipe your face, "I am not as brave as you. I could not even kill the fishes Gwayne caught for me, though I ate them."

Daemon is unmoved, twice so at the mention of your brother.

"And Gwayne..." you sigh, "he would blame himself." You turn to your feet, warmed by the sand beneath it, "I would not do that to him." You shake your head again, "but again, take heart," you smile, "it will happen soon enough."

His forehead curls.

"I can feel it in my gut," you rub your belly, "it is putrid and festering... whatever it is."

He tilts his head, "then do me a favor and wallow in silence—" he walks off, sparing one last glance, "and try scheming with your cunt father somewhere you will not be caught."

You manically laugh and rip at your hair, "he is my illness, if it is not plain to you."

He stops and turns back to you.

"I am the way that I am because I-" you poke your chest, "am he, had he been born a woman." You rub your sternum, "he loathes me because he is I. I am his hair, his nose, his temper, his... weakness, only amplified because I did not inherit his cock.

"When I pray..." you sniffle, "sometimes I think the gods keep me alive for I am his reckoning— that I must torment him for all the years he has tormented others... tormented me."

Daemon watches the salt from your eyes join the salt on your slip. He stares at your pert nipples then watches you chew your lower lip. He licks his own, "did you mean what you told him?"

You watch as he inches closer, "what?"

"That he is no longer your liege lord," he reaches for your arm, "that I am."

"I-"

Daemon pushes the shoulder of your slip dress down.

Your hand darts to his chest, "i-it is the truth."

He hums and tilts his head. You gasp when he kisses your neck. He licks the saltwater off your skin, enjoying the sound you make when his teeth graze you, "very well then."

Goosebumps form when he pulls your skirt up your thighs.

"It would be beneath a prince to withhold aid for such a tormented spirit."

You do not speak for soon his mouth is claiming yours. It is not as horrid as you imagined it would be. You did not think someone who's shown nothing but aggression could behold you so tenderly. You shiver when he continues to rid you of your sopping clothes. When you break away for air, you manage to mutter, "someone c-could see."

Daemon's expression is changed as stares at you and pushes you to the ground. You gasp as you find yourself atop the garbs he already managed to remove. He undoes his breeches, "who? My dragon?"

You do not know if he means Caraxes.

"You are my wife," he drops to his knees, grabbing yours, "the sin lies with the looker," he pushes your legs apart, "not us."

You bite your lips, feeling the the need to repel him, but decide against it. You simply close your eyes and dig your fingers into the sand.

His loins burn at the sound of your sigh. He sinks into you and relishes your submission. He wraps your legs around him and rocks his hips into yours. You mewl and dig into his back. He bites your lobe before whispering, "you belong to me."

You scratch your nails up his back as his rocking hips send bolts of pleasure in your body.

"Say it."

"I-I-" you heave, "belong to you."

He squeezes your thighs, "you are to do what I so desire."

You gasp softly when he grabs your jaw, making you turn to him.

"-especially if it is against your father, yes?"

You gulp, unable to speak. You simply nod.

Daemon's eyes become hooded. He releases your jaw, claiming your thigh again, "good."

You both remain this way, kissing and rubbing, but then you begin to grow impatient. You bring your mouth to his to catch his attention but do not kiss him. He is taken aback by your unintentional tease and digs his fingers into your flesh. This is why you whimper as you speak, "you- can... enter."

He is broken from his trance, "what?"

"I," you scratch his skin gently, as if to encourage him, "know you are ready. You do not have to hold back. I am accustomed to pain."

He knits his brows, then tilts his head, "how could a virgin know such things?"

He watches bashfulness claim you. You shake your head, "I read it."

"Did your book not tell you it need not be painful?"

"I-" you let out a loud noise when you feel his fingers touch your womanhood, "Daemon-"

He purrs at the sound of his name, "I will show you how good it can feel so that you can tell your father all about it."

The horrifying thought does not even register as he makes you feel things you did not know possible. You begin to shiver and whine, but it is entirely opposite to what your body is accustomed to. Your breath begins to shorten and you instinctively begin to panic, but Daemon's voice keeps you grounded.

"Breathe," he licks your pulse, "it feels good, does it not? Breathe and think of how good I'm making you feel."

You are entirely subservient to him, to his baritone, to his fingers, to his hips. There is nothing but sand and Daemon. You whine when you feel a hard intrusion. The sensation is foreign, and it causes your belly to tense.

He kisses the line that forms between your brows, "relax, my wife. Now is not the time for pain," he hooks his hands behind your knees, "it's a time for pleasure."

It's all a blurry haze after this. Daemon moves into you in a way that makes you wonder how this could ever hurt. Every thrust sends ripples of bliss down your spine. Every hit draws out the lewdest of sounds from your throat. You understand then why they call it love making; you love every moment of it. Your bliss is heightened when he touches something inside you, and again, and again-

For once in your life, as your breath grows heavy, you do not feel like you're about to die.

Daemon alternates tempos, but ultimately resigns to fast and hard. He does not cease until your rigid body goes limp beneath him. The pressure in your stomach breaks into a million burning pieces, and just as it becomes all too much, he pulls out, propping himself up on one arm. You gasp at the heat thats spills on your thigh as he strokes himself. Soon, his arm gives out and he collapses beside you.

You behold the mess of red and white between your legs, but find no shame, only arousal, which you did not expect. You turn to your husband, watching his chest heave, his temples sweat, and his tongue lick his lips.

He's... he's beautiful.

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yandereunsolved · 5 months ago

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"Don't Stop Me Now" — Five situations where yandere Five loses it

cw(s): yandere themes, non-descriptive self harm, mention of suicide and domestic violence

1 — someone ✗ something is trying to harm you

Pretty straightforward.

This is the numero uno that comes along with every yandere.

Five grew up with an abusive, emotionally absent father figure. He was pushed to be the best, the most successful of his siblings, just for an ounce of affection. He was isolated for so many years with nothing more than a department store doll. He has had to put away whatever loose morals he had to slave away in The Comission.

Then you come along and brighten up his life. No, you do more than that. You perfect it.

Then someone comes and tries to strip that away from him?

It's safe to say you've only seen that crazed look in his eyes when you're in danger. He doesn't care about whatever mission, the greater good, or whatever the fuck when you may end up being killed. He's swift and merciless, just as he was taught.

After he makes sure you are okay, he'll hold you to his chest for what feels like forever. He just needs to become secure again in the fact you are alive. You are here with him right now. It helps ground him so he doesn't end up going about on a killing spree.

Yes. That has happened one too many times.

Klaus now knows not to joke about random people flirting with you. Their spirits won't stop harassing him. In his defense, how was he supposed to know Five would just go out and slowly torture them before letting them waste away into death? Klaus didn't think Five was that unhinged. He knows better now.

2 — you harm yourself (in any way)

He keeps an observant eye on you, so it would be a miracle if you managed to accomplish anything along those lines.

Two words. no. more.

He has the internal breakdown. He's just standing there and staring at you. There are tears in his eyes. He wants to yell, to freak out, but his voice cracks far too much when he tries to reprimand you.

No. Just no.

That's the only word that encapsulates how he feels.

He is not going to allow you to hold any sharp objects. He makes sure you have no contact with Diego. Five is paranoid and suspects that Diego had something to do with this. Somehow.

You are more strictly monitored.

He has an entire list of mental and physical health questions he asks you each morning. If you tell him to leave you alone or that you are tired, there's about a seventy percent chance that he'll go off. It would definitely be in a Five way.

He'd be teleporting around you and sputtering out statistics and caring yet demeaning words.

3 — keeping him out of the loop

Five is meticulous.

When you keep him out of the loop—which could mean not saying good morning to him or hiding a romantic relationship—he feels so powerless again. He needs to know what is going on with you so he can protect you if need be.

Don't even try to argue with him.

He's older than you, so he knows best.

He has so much more experience at anything and everything. He can solve all of your problems if you just let him in.

Does that mean he will do the same in return? No.

There's no reason for you to know what he is doing at any point of the day. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about it. Aka, he's doing things that are morally gray at best and human rights violations at... that's still one of the better cases.

Just tell him. Or he'll force it out of you.

4 — things being out of his control

This ties in with every other scenario.

He needs to be in control.

Everything has to be perfect.

If one thing goes wrong, then you may slip through his fingers.

That isn't allowed to happen. It can't.

It eats away at him at night to think something could happen that he can't control.

The apocalypse happened, and he had to spend decades just accepting that fact. Until there was a chance he could change it.

Now he has to. He has to change, sort, and neatly put away everything. No speck of dust is out of place. If it is, then he'll end up pushing himself into fixing it, to the point of exhaustion or death—whichever comes first.

5 — escaping successfully

The only time there is a plausible chance he will resort to physical violence.

Why, why, why, why, why, why!?

How could he be so idiotic? How did you do it? Who helped you?

Whoever helped you is going to die if they haven't already killed themselves because they know Five is going to be coming after them.

He will act nonchalant, like he is in control, when he finally finds you once again. He'll tease, poke, and prod at your fear, like a ringmaster taming their lion. A part of this act is the truth. He has you back, and now everything can go back to how it was. The other part of him is still devastated and wants to curl up in your lap and just be safe there.

Yandere Five: fragile—handle with care.

✗ @clarioscharm

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #yandere tua #yandere the umbrella academy #yandere tua x reader #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #yandere five hargreeves #yandere five #yandere five hargreeves x reader

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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months ago

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All fics contain adult content, read at your own risk. Minors bugger off.

Hate Mail part 1 and Part 2 (Human!Alastor x Reader)

CW: Rough oral, Dub con, rough sex Summary: Alastor has been on the receiving end of some nasty letters at the station. With the help of some rather unique penmanship and a stroke of luck, the culprit finds herself in his crosshairs. What sort of lesson will Alastor teach his little hate fan and how will that change when he uncovers the reason why she is sending him the letters?

Late Meetings (Vox x Reader)

CW: Dub con, Somnophilia, Weirdly fluffy Summary: Vox comes home from a meeting that ran late to find himself entranced by the beauty of your sleeping form, lit by nothing but the dim glow of his screen. *Technically a sequel to Home but not required reading*

Hush Hush (Valentino x Charlie)

CW: Dub/Non con, leaning hard toward noncon, Valentino is in hell for a reason, Valentino is a warning on his own, Mirror sex, belly bulge, suggested nonconsensual recording. Summary: Charlie has had enough of Angel Dust coming back to the hotel broken. She was the princess of hell, surely she could make a deal Valentino would have no choice but to agree to. There was no price too high to buy her friend's freedom but when it comes time to pay the cost, is she willing to?

Antler Play (Alastor x Doe!Reader)

CW: Lightly used incorrect deer facts, ruts and seasons, insertion of an item 100% not safe or intended for insertion, light fem receiving oral, female masterbation Summary: Alastor, having just rode out his rut alone is faced with the startling realization that you, a fellow deer demon in the hotel, have not just come into season but your first season since your death. Alastor is left unable to mate you due to the poor timing but finds other ways to see to your needs and trick your body into thinking the deed has been done.

Mine (Alastor x Doe!reader)

CW: Smut, blood, knots, ruts Summary: Alastor and his Doe have weathered the passing of the seasons, though he has failed to define their relationship and she's been too afraid to ask. Now, Alastor's Rut is upon him and it's time for her to return the favor. *Follow up to Antler Play*

Curiosity (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Sensory deprivation, established situationship, smut, porn with way too many feelings, love confessions. Summary: Alastor overhears Angel Dust telling you about Val's latest thing- sensory deprivation. Curiosity wins out over sensibility.

Not afraid Of A Little Blood (Human ALastor x Reader)

CW: Public sex, period sex, vaginal fingering, licking fingers clean Summary: Out at Mimzy's Speakeasy for a night on the town, Alastor finds himself feeling rather amorous and isn't swayed by your monthly condition or the public nature of the location. You find your will crumbles as he shows he's simply not a man who's afraid of a little blood.

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

Praise Be Thy Tongue (Lucifer x reader)

CW: oral, fem receiving, slight praise kink Summary: After turning your back on Heaven in favor of the man you had fallen in love with, you present yourself to Lucifer asking that he show you the ways of pleasure…

I Own You (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, Anxiety, depression, shitty fuckin mental health, Pissed off Alastor, possessive Alastor, Branding, blood as lube, Toxic ass relationships, self doubt, smut, mirror sex Summary: After getting a bunch of comments telling you you're not good enough for Alastor, old demons come back to life in your mind sending you to embrace the coping mechanism that sent you to hell in the first place. Alastor stops your plans in their tracks and is rather displeased by your actions.

Lost Flowers (Lucifer x Human!Reader)

CW: Sex pollen, compromised consent, smut, oral sex, fingering Summary: Imps doing whatever the fuck they did dropped a sex flower in the human world and it's Lucifer's problem as the king of Hell to find it. When he finds it, picked up by you, he has a obligation to help you ride out the effects.

A Pirate, A wench and Whisky (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Closet sex, drunk sex thus murky consent, clothed sex, p n v sex, cream pies, thigh riding, biting, blood drinking Summary: Charlie decided hosting a costume party would be the best way for the residents to celebrate the season and for the hotel to get some grand publicity. Dressing up wasn't optional. Though you were proud of your bar wench costume- not too skimpy but just skimpy enough, not everyone announced their plans.

The result was a bar wench that did everything you could to avoid the red pirate, drowning your anxiety in shot after shot of whiskey only to find yourself cornered by the very man you could hardly look at when you made an attempt to retire for the night.

Titties (Adam x Reader)

CW: Titty fucking, large breasts, Adam being adam, oral, cum shots, facial Summary: Adam and his new, large breasted lover have been fucking like rabbits but you're tired and sore. Adam though, in love with your curves will gladly take the chance to lavish your chest with some affection.

Incomplete Summonings (Demon Alastor/Alastor shadow x Human reader)

CW: Creampie, temperature play, demon summoning, virginity, light blood, Sex with Alastor's shadow, Sex with Alastor, human Vox cameo Summary: You summoned a demon to remove your romantic competition from the equation. When your sacrifice was far too little, earning you only the shadow of the demon you had called, you had to find something else to sacrifice to pay the price.

What's This (Lucifer x Fallen!Reader)

CW: Cock ring, overstimulation, pleasure Dom undertones, wings, Luci a bit in his feels, Begging, praise, multiple orgasms Summary: Lucifer's lover, a newly fallen Angel continues her exploration of sinful pleasure as Lucifer teaches her what the cockring she found in his nightstand is for.

KittyCat (Vox x Kitty!Reader)

CW: Public sex, heats, electric play, collars, public nudity, breeding, creampie Summary: Being a cat demon, you suffered some of the most extreme heat cycles in all of hell. Every few weeks you went out of your mind with the need to be bred. It didn't matter who, when, where or how.

It was a good thing you belonged to Vox. But what happens when your cycle sneaks up on you, slamming into you a little earlier than expected while Vox is at a meeting? Can you make it to your powerful lover before someone else takes you or will you fall for the first male you see?

The Original Dick (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough blowjob, semi public blowjob, m receiving oral, stalking, reader is a bit craycray Summary: After repeated encounters with Adam at work, through the hole, you have no choice but to follow him in hopes of finding an organic way to meet again. When you're less of a skilled stalker than you thought, you're faced with the repercussions of your actions.

Crash Landings (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough sex, Dub con, sex pollen, degradation, pussy slapping, fingering, compromised ability to consent Summary: After taking damage to his wings, Adam has no choice but to make an emergency landing in a clearing of purple flowers, unaware of the unique flora of hell. While he waits for his flight feathers to regrow, he's met with some rather unexpected side effects of exposure to Hyperrigidus Purpureus pollen. His luck this extermination had been shit but when a pretty little demoness all but trips over him, he is pretty sure his luck was about to change.

Stuff You like a What?! (Alastor x reader)

CW: Tentacles, gags, edging, orgasm denial, established relationship, suspension, cream pies Summary: As your lover is just about to reach his finish, you complete a dare issued by Angel Dust. The unexpecting words leaving your mouth leaves Alastor's finish in ruins and he is a man that feels an eye for an eye is far too merciful...

Knife's Edge (Human!Alastor x reader)

CW: Knifeplay, stranger sex, smut, creampies, dub con Summary: Stepping away from the party, you tried to get some are. It's a chance encounter with a dangerous stranger that leaves your dress ruffled, your panties missing and you facing some new facts about yourself.

Satin Ribbons (Adam x Reader)

CW: Smut, Adam typical degradation Summary: It was once a year that you got to see your angelic lover. A romantic, or perhaps just sexual, tryst you waited all year for. This year, you dressed yourself in something you hoped Adam would think about all year long.

Quiet In the Theater (Human!Vox x reader)

CW: Power dynamics (Boss/assistant), Public sex, public fingering, public cockwarming, edging. Summary: As a reward for years of diligent service, your boss rewarded you with a movie date. Except, it wasn't a date and you watching the movie was more of a chore... Follow up to: Dressing Room but not required to be read together

Joint Broadcast (Alastor x reader x Vox)

CW: Cheating, Dubcon, brat taming, Anal, double penetration, caught cheating, nonconsensual broadcast Summary: You thought you could have your cake and eat it, too. In this case, your cakes were Alastor and Vox in romantic and sexual relationships. Sure, you didn't disclose your entanglements with the other but what were the odds they would find out? When the unexpected comes to reality, you're left alone with two angry men who could end your existence. They intend to punish you but in the last way you expect…

To the Beat of the Music (Human!Alastor x reader)

CW: Smut, sexual harassment, 3rd person, pussy slapping. semi public sex, smut, creampie. It's fucking. Summary: When a flapper won't take the hint that Alastor isn't interested in her, he has no choice but to shut her up and make a point. Sometimes, punishment can be pleasure.

Package Delivery (Vox x Reader)

CW: Roleplay, Electric stim, Blowjobs, doggy style, p n v sex, she really corny porn dialog, oops I spilled a little angst Summary: After working too many late nights and canceling too any dates, Vox decides to make it up to you with an unplanned surprise. New desires are unlocked and explored as two lovers who’ve been apart for too many nights fall back together.

What’s more romantic than a stiff, cheap VoxTek delivery uniform and a new work laptop, anyway?

Casting Call (Valentino x Reader)

CW: Sex machine, sex work, casting call for adult films Rating: Adult Summary: Having grown tired of scraping by, you attend a casting call for the leading pornography studio in hell. You're surprised to find the casting call takes place with the head director himself, Valentino.

Fallen For Glory (Sinner!Adam x reader)

CW: Glory holes, sex work, Oral (M receiving), fem masterbation Summary: Seven months after your fated encounter with the First man, you struggled to get him off your mind. Even after a unexpected failed early extermination and the broadcasted slaying of Adam on the battlefield, you couldn't get him off your mind as rumors of him being reborn, sentenced to hell himself made it impossible for you to let go.

And then, sitting in the both of the shitty glory hole joint Valentino ran, you heard his voice once again. Rumors were true. Adam lived and your obsession was fueled by nothing more than the taste of him on your tongue.

This was the best day at the office...

Dressing Room (Human!Vox x Reader)

CW: Light cockwarming, Power dynamics, Vox's bad temper, dressing room smut, creampie Summary: Vox was a charming man, the face of the channel and soon enough, the face of the station. It was just a matter of time. But he had a darker side. He was a man that was quick to anger and today, you were tasked with bringing him last minute changes to the show. It's alright though, he offers you a chance to make it up to him.

A Monstrous Broadcast (Monster!Alastor x reader)

CW: Post Stayed Gone Monster Al, Size kink go brr, Blood, DubCon, belly bulge, broadcasting sex, cream pies, cum painting... Summary: You were sent to Alastor's Broadcasting tower to tell him something just in time to catch the tail end of Stayed Gone. Alastor is in a rather unique mood and in terrifying form as he decides the best way to work his excess energy off is with you.

Hot and Cold (Lucifer x Fallen!Reader)

CW: Wax play, Ice play, Ice put inside the body, Oral, It's just smut, don't put ice cubes up your whooha, only use body safe wax for wax play Summary: Lucifer treats his newly fallen love to a picnic and on a whim decides to expand her pleasurable horizons using the ice from the champagne bucket and the wax from the candles.

A follow up to Praise Be Thy Tongue

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mo0nfairy · 1 year ago

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART TWO !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 10.2k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, murder/death, gore/blood, stalking, age-gap, non-con touching, drugging, invasion of privacy, force-feeding, mentions of rape/assault, mentions of vomit, hanging, insinuations of suicide, physical restraint, child neglect/abuse, child abandonment, & a lot of gross shit.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── Electricity. It is what Miguel O'Hara lost you to on October 17th, 2099. And it is what he felt on May 16th of the same year.

A soccer coach, that is all you were. Simply there to guide a gaggle of tiny rascals toward their dreams of becoming Olympic athletes. That is all you should have been. Spending your days beneath the sweltering sun, collecting quick money and soccer-ball-induced bruises, before leaving Nueva York to settle down elsewhere. That is what you could have been.

Gabriella O'Hara was one of your many students. However, her dad was rarely present during her games. The lack of fatherly presence struck a parental nerve in your body, hence your perceptible favoritism for her. The efforts you made did not go unnoticed by Gabriella, either.

The time she had preferred tying dandelion stems to one another instead of participating with other classmates, you joined the lonely girl and taught her how to craft flower crowns. Since then, she has always arrived to practice with light in her eyes as she gifts you another flower crown of millions. And of course, you thank her graciously for the present. Even after they wilt and wither, they will forever have a home in your residence.

Today was a particularly gloomy Saturday in late March. The carpool Miguel relied on had been cancelled last minute, much to his dismay. The parent he couldn't remember the name of informed him their child was stricken with a case of chickenpox. After reading their incessant apologies, he groans in a fit of annoyance upon realizing he would have to chauffeur his daughter for the day.

Soccer Ball and weed-ridden flower crown in her small hands, Gabriella clambers into the back of the car and fastens herself into the car seat. In the process, she finds yet another way to bring you into the conversation. Somehow in the span of a few weeks, everything Gabriella does revolves around you in some shape or form. If Miguel hears 'Y/N,' 'flower-crowns,' or 'soccer' once more, he is positive he will implode on the spot. Clenching his jaw, he mentally prepares himself for the most excruciating car ride he is sure he will ever endure.

When they arrive at the field, there is no hug, no kiss, not even a wave of goodbye. Miguel merely lets his daughter exit the vehicle herself, ignores her exclamation of "See you later!" and zooms off. Despite how harrowing her father's negligence is, Gabriella knows she will see you and that fact aids all. If she were honest, she would say she likes you far more than she does her own family. It is tacitly evident through the attention you give her. You lighten up like a Christmas tree when she runs and engulfs your legs in a tight hug. Gleefully, you accept her gift of yet another flower crown and praise her for the effort she put into crafting such. And after being so deprived of the necessity of love, Gabriella practically clings to your side like a parasite.

In the meantime, Miguel returns home and hastily sorts through reports sent in by Alchemax. From technological hiccups to your average-day Karen, being in this field never failed to make this man roll his eyes in annoyance. Despite the admiratio he holds for his career, he still grumbles when his responsibilities creep up on him. And much like everything else in his life, he despises it all.

A monitor then pops up beside him, the translucent screen displaying a reminder he had set hours ago. "May 16th, 2099. Saturday. 3:45 PM. Pick Up Child." His head is thrown back in a fit of irritation when he is reminded of her presence. Miguel closes the tab and leaves the expanse of his office, counting down the days until his daughter blows out her 18 candles and he can finally be at peace.

After the car ride spent pondering over why he had chosen this life, he soon arrives at the soccer field. Scrutinizing through the cluster of children playing in the field, he cannot find Gabriella through the chaos. Miguel does not worry about her well-being, as opposed to how other parents would react to their child being missing. He merely huffs before departing from the vehicle. His large hand tracks through his hair as he searches for where the brat had wandered off to, ignoring the lustful gazes from mothers who were explicitly unhappy in their marriages.

Tucked away in the corner is the first-aid center. Within the bell tent, he spots his daughter. She is blissfully happy as she laughs hysterically, which makes her father red with rage. His talons dig into the meat of his palms; his fangs protrude into his lips. He had already driven all this way for her, how dare she force him to travel even further!? Stomping across the field and through the threshold, his towering frame suddenly halts when he takes notice of the additional presence inside the tent.

And just like that, for the first time in his entire life, the anger simply... vanishes. It is almost like magic. Through tireless efforts, Miguel has done everything in his power to deplete this suffocating rage. All efforts made by him were brought to no fruition. In this moment, however, the mere presence of this stranger brings such a candy-sweet shock to all his senses, that he forgets where his anger was in the first place.

They cast a look over their shoulder to acknowledge his sudden entrance. And their features sit like stars on the expanse of their face, their eyes like the sun and moon basking him in its holy light. A kind smile that could rival the luminescence of heaven grows on their face. Miguel is shocked the sight hadn't caused his knees to lock beneath him. They introduce themselves and if he could write their name on his tongue and only ever speak of them, he wouldn't waste another heartbeat.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.

The word sounds like flowers in the wind; like an answered prayer for brighter days. Extending their arm out to shake his hand, Miguel fervently takes their hand into his and shivers from the close, yet minimal, contact.

"So, this is the notorious Y/N I've heard so much about." His voice drops to a low husk, attempting to woo you.

Miguel presses your knuckles to his lips and kisses them with fervid haste. The skin, flesh, and warmth pervading the expanse of his lips make him feel weightless. He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body, but with you now in his life, he'd tear every raw bone from his body and place them at your feet if you so much as asked. Just keep making him feel the way you do.

He then introduces himself and punctuates the syllables with the inflection of his accent, knowing of how it drove others wild. In this case, he was not given the heart-lurching sight of you averting your gaze or listening to your flustered giggles. Instead, you yank your hand away from his affections and revert your attention to Gabriella. Miguel had forgotten she was there altogether, and once again, the permeating rage returned once more.

Without your blessed attention, his lost soul returns to the home it built out of anger and misery. He had so greedily absorbed every sliver of good you possessed, he never fathomed how he would feel when it would be inevitably revoked.

Upon closer inspection, Miguel notices how his daughter's cheeks are puffy with stained tears. On her knees are a clutter of superhero-themed band-aids, a few displaying her father in his work attire. You inform him of the tumble she had taken earlier that day and of how there was nothing to concern himself with, gesturing to the bandages adorning her frail legs. He was never worried in the first place, only captivated by your sheer existence.

You then bend down to where Gabriella is seated on an ottoman and take her tiny hands into yours.

"I was going to wait until later on, but I got a gift that I just have to give you!" Gabriella lightens up as if you had told her you were taking her to Disneyland, anxiously anticipating her present.

Quirking your head, you turn to her father. "If that is alright with you, of course." Yes, anything you want. I will give you everything you could ever want.

A nod of his head and you stand to your feet. That mellifluous voice of yours that Miguel could listen to forever apprises Gabriella to close her eyes, which she obliges to and brings her palms to her face. Grasping hold of the gift hidden in the corner of the tent, you begin to tread toward the young girl. Before you had granted her to, she not-so-sneakily peeks through the expanse of her fingers. She can't abstain from squealing in excitement when she catches sight of what is in your palms. She closes the distance between you both and rushes to you, before practically yanking the gift out of your grasp. A harsh scolding bridges upon Miguel's lips for the action. However, when he takes notice of the admiration in your expression, he is rendered speechless with sudden envy.

A flower crown is what you had given her. The detail is exquisite, evident in the sheer awe plastered upon Gabriella's face as she studies it. Strawflower, lavender, eucalyptus, and daisies adorn the garment, as well as strands of amaranth that would cascade down her back. In addition to this, a myriad of other ornamentations clung to the crown. Vibrant gemstones, pastel buttons, and a pink, silken ribbon that ties the crown together in a flawless bow — it is a tiara befitting the most beautiful of princesses. And you told Gabriella she fit that standard effortlessly.

Meanwhile, Miguel stands in the background and seethes. How despairingly he wishes the gift were for him instead. In any other light, he'd say the garment was tacky. Ugly, even. He would have no resourceful use for it, either, and it would inevitably be chucked into the garbage. When it is you who put all care and detail into the gift, however, the story changes. Mere seconds have gone by since he has learned your name and still, he'd flaunt that crown for the rest of his life if you had gifted it to him. No matter the judging heaps of laughter he'd receive from others.

Gabriella thanks you profusely and engulfs your legs in another hug. Her gratitude is met with a reciprocated squeeze, as well. The act of affection is given to one another entirely oblivious to the third party overwhelmed with jealousy. His thick brows are plastered in a permanent furrow and his lips have morphed into an envious sneer. You are so effortlessly good with children and Miguel can't refrain his brain from catapulting to conclusions.

What does your life look like outside of being his daughter's favorite person? Do you have children of your own?

Is there someone else?

You and Gabriella then perform your secret handshake. It had been choreographed during one of the numerous soccer meets after her father neglected to collect his daughter on time. Soon, the two are leaving the tent. And every step away from you feels like walking on hot stones. The further Miguel treads, the scorching temperatures increase. He cannot look back. One glance and he'd be barreling for the poor tent like some rabid animal, desperate for another taste of your bottled happiness.

May 16th had only been the beginning of the Miguel-ridden chaos that would soon embark into your life.

Considering his negligence, you were stunned to see how he had signed his daughter up for several classes a week. But, you become entirely aghast with shock when you find him attending every meeting and game, remaining in the same spot for the entire course. Most parents twiddle on their phones while others mingle with the other adults. Miguel O'Hara was different. His sole, undivided attention was reserved for the actions taken on the field. And his sweet child could not have been more elated.

You presumed this alter in behavior to be a spark of realization that manifested into becoming a better parent. However, as the weeks go by and he continues to attend, you are quick to realize how his attention isn't appointed to his daughter, but it is set on you instead.

It is impossible for you to disinter what about yourself he finds so entertaining. With his eyes glued to you, it fills you with a sense of insecurity when you assume he may be mocking or judging you. The seemingly permanent dead emotion cast on his face makes you squirm with discomfort.

Upon closer inspection, or during the constant chatter he provokes when you're not occupied with the children, you swear the pupils of his eye almost appear... heart-shaped? You also cannot remember a time when he looked you directly in the eye, either. You're sure if you asked him what your eye color is, he'd be dumbfounded (he knows the exact shade by HTML color code, but that fact remains unknown to you). They are locked onto your lips, instead. Do you have something on your face? Maybe something in your teeth? The lack of emotion he communicates through facial expressions has you ridden with worry.

The most evident response you've been able to perceive in his expression was on a random day after practice. In the midst of a conversation with Miguel, another father interrupts him. His face morphs into something murderous when the unwelcome guest has the audacity to ask for your number. He claims it is to inquire you about his son's performance while he is not physically present in the game. With the way his eyes leer to your body, Miguel knows exactly what kind of revolting, perverted visions are plaguing his mind.

Clenched jaw, tense frown, eyes blown wide — Miguel’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths while he glares bullets into the man. It takes everything within him to not release his talons, flash his fangs, and rip this pervert into nothing but a bloodied mess of gore on this very soccer field.

He is dead by dawn.

Exposed to several counts of rape and assault, Spider-Man hanged that man with his red web-matter beneath a bridge. His written confession was pinned to his chest with a hunting knife.

The disturbing events led his wife to officially resign her son from your practice. On live television, the widow swears on her life that her husband would not do such a thing. The sudden exposure of random crimes without any victims or proof does seem a tad suspicious, you think to yourself. Due to the circumstances, however, you cancel soccer meetups for the following several weeks so parents and children can process these disturbing events.

While you are typing another empathetic message to the apparent-criminal’s wife, another message pings on your device.

The culprit is no other than Miguel O'Hara. As if the news that had spread amongst the city like wildfire had chosen to leave him intact.

As if nothing happened.

Miguel invites you to an ice cream parlor with him and Gabriella, a weird undertone that implies it's a date while his daughter is the annoying third wheel. To get your mind off the poor boy whose father was brutally murdered, you agree to the rendezvous. His response is far too ecstatic to be deemed platonic, but much like all of his other flirtatious insinuations, you ignore it. You are juggling much more important, colossal matters in your life, after all.

Early afternoon rolls around and you arrive a mere five minutes early to the parlor, only to find the two were already seated beneath a pastel-striped umbrella. Gabriella is adorned in the flower crown you gifted her weeks ago, babbling about frivolous matters while her father sits beside her. Chin rested against his palm, you have never seen a more bored expression on a human's face.

Double-checking the clock to ensure Miguel's apathy wasn't a result of your poor planning, you're relieved to see your suspicions were false. You briefly scroll through the new messages on your phone from parents and neighbors regarding their children. As much as you adore your job, juggling the well-being of so many lives can be exhausting.

The click of your car door opening cuts your actions short. Looking at the sudden intrusion, you find Miguel O'Hara towering over you with Gabriella at his side. Her eyes beam beneath the flower crown you crafted, while her father perceptibly softens at the sight of you. Almost as if a tidal wave of relief washed over him after years spent breathing in trepidation. Not wasting another second, Gabriella crawls into the car and engulfs you in a hug. You are able to reciprocate the affection before her father pulls her away from what's his you. He is rather rough with her, but the smile that paints her face aids the dread inside of you.

Miguel lends a hand, which you take with reluctance. He guides you from your beat-up, engine-sputtering vehicle as if you were royalty. Your other hand was now held hostage by Gabriella, who attempts to conquer her father's strength and guide you to where they were once seated. Her efforts are futile when you are yanked into Miguel's sudden embrace. He was never shy with his affections, but this is the first time he was so close to you. And God, is it overwhelming. His imposing frame envelops every inch of you, to where all your senses are deluged in all of him. His cologne, his muscles, his warmth — he is everywhere and it is wholly suffocating.

"I missed you so much..." A beat passes before you realize he is referring to the mere week you have spent without seeing the O'Hara family.

Slowly and painstakingly, he releases you from his tenacious hold. Gabriella is then swift to fill the silence. She grasps your attention easily, something her father has struggled immensely with.

She pantomimes about the fashion show she hosted for her dolls back home and the success she earned during her P.E. class a few days prior. So indulged in the stories of this poor, attention-deprived child, you failed to notice how your hand was still held in Miguel's grasp. His lips find your knuckles, as they always do. The sensation of his kiss against you was nothing out of the blue. The act of affection had become a strange routine for every encounter you both shared. Without your resistance, Miguel fully indulges himself in how much he has missed you and plants more long, abiding kisses to your hand.

When you finally perceive his actions, you swiftly yank your hand away from his relentless affections. An awkward, forced smile sits on your face as you look at him with furrowed brows, seemingly scrutinizing him for some sort of explanation of his actions. Gabriella then pulls you away and drags you like a dog to their reserved table. Not without a sharp demand from her father to be careful with you.

On the surface, you find a colossal bowl of your favorite ice cream. The question lurks of how they had known this fact, but you merely brush it off as dropping the information to Gabriella a while ago. Besides the treat, a bouquet of paper flowers scribbled with bright-hued markers sits. She expresses how she crafted it for you during her time in school. Students were given art equipment and assigned to create a heartfelt gift for their parents. In the brain of Gabriella, she neglected her actual parent and put all her love into creating something perfect for you. And to you, it was all of that and more.

The three of you sit. You thank the young girl for the beautiful gift. Then, you pretend to inhale the scent of fresh flowers and jokingly compliment her on how she picked the finest posy from her garden. Before you can continue to pantomime about the process she went through to craft the bouquet, her father interrupts her. He proposes a gift he has gotten for you, as well.

A box is then placed before you. It is enveloped in vermillion velvet and silver tracings of 'Cartier' are threaded among the sides. You restrain from expressing your shock at the expensive appearance. Flicking the small latch that probably costs more than your bedroom alone, you gently clutch the two adjacent covers and open the box.

Sat inside is a diamond ring. The way the July sun reflects against the gift and into your eyes is harsh. You're shocked you hadn't gone blind from the unwelcome pervasion. The intricacies of the garment are delicate and precious, to where you are afraid of even putting your hands on such finery. You become entirely ridden with shock and terror when you grasp the thin thread attached to the box and read the price tag.

$2,000,000 is written in bold letters, almost as if the striking font was ridiculing you.

As heard through the fits of gossip from bored parents during practice, you were aware Miguel was a billionaire working at Alchemax. In these past few weeks spent handling nagging parents worried for their children's safety, the fact seems to have escaped your brain. And even with receipts that look like phone numbers, you still cannot fathom how pure diamonds are mere pocket change to him.

Jaw on the ground, you don't realize just how much time you spent gawking at the ring. A hum of amused, affectionate laughter clutches you away from your state of captivation. You shift your gaze away to see Miguel and those all-too-familiar heart-shaped pupils. Staring into your soul. It is the most emotion you have seen on his face since you met him. You wonder how many times he has looked at you like that when you were occupied with other matters.

He moves closer to you. You stalk his movements with curiosity, watching as he grasps your hand for the zillionth time since you met him. Uncomfortably pressing himself against you, Miguel reaches over your shoulder and grasps the ring. He evidently indulges in every second spent in close proximity with you. The hot, heavy breath fanning against your ear informs you of what captivated chaos is taking place inside his brain. Goosebumps bloom on your skin when the frigid diamonds meet the flesh of your ring finger. He assumes the sudden shiver engrossing your body is due to his closeness and he does little to hide his perceptible excitement.

You loving him nearly as much as he loves you — that is all he could ever want.

You lightly tread your digits among the ring, almost afraid to dirty the expensive jewelry with your mere touch. You stutter through an attempt at thanking Miguel for the gift. And your awe mending with your gratitude has his heart lurching in his chest. God, you are just so sweet. He is surprised his teeth haven't all rotted just from standing here in your presence.

Gabriella is in a similar state to you, as well. Any child in the presence of jewelry meant to be worn by a deity would react in a similar manner. Though, her childlike wonder fogs all the polite manners she prided herself in having. Her small fingers reach to touch the diamonds, but her efforts are halted a mere picosecond after they had begun.

Miguel snaps his fingers. That is all he does. Gabriella freezes at the sound, turning her attention to her father, and then cowering like a scolded puppy. She scoots away from you, abandoning her endeavors the second his fingers meet his palm. You fear what occurs beneath the roof of their home when there are no prying eyes there to witness anything.

A sultry whisper of "you look perfect" in your ear and the state of discomfort you were in only intensifies. Miguel's finger drags from your left shoulder blade to the other as he begrudgingly moves away from you, returning to his original seat.

Nearly incoherent blabbers of the ring being too much money tumble from your lips as you try and rid yourself of the diamonds. However, no matter how tireless your efforts are, the ring almost seems locked around your finger. A gentle tap to your elbow from Miguel beside you and you halt your efforts. You've heard he is quite scary when angry, after all.

With melted ice cream left on the table and diamonds superglued to your finger, you come to the conclusion that leaving your house today was probably a mistake.

When you do return home, however, you now realize you should have seen the blatant red flags long ago and left Miguel in your shadow. Your incessant assurances of how he just has an odd way of expressing kindness halted you from accepting the truth.

Standing before your bathroom mirror, a myriad of cleaning products from beneath the sink sit before you. Your laptop sits there, too, and displays countless YouTube videos adhering to removing a tight ring. Attempting to unravel the glimmering, red knot tying the ring to your hand, the revelation of Miguel's intentions finally begins to settle. These matters are so important, that you don't even acknowledge how the vermillion string looks oddly familiar to what you see the city's superhero using to travel.

Deep within your thoughts, the sharp vibration of a text message startles you out of your inner turmoil. A hologram expands from your phone left against the bathroom countertop. Lo and behold, no other than Miguel O'Hara has messaged you. He thanks you for joining him earlier (avoiding mentioning how his daughter was there, too). He slides an additional compliment of how diamonds look stunning on you. You're glad the toilet is so close to you, as you may need to vomit from the rotten sweetness of his words.

Instead of replying, as you would normally thank him for his kindness, you ignore his message. You are far more interested in trying to rid your hand of this ring without harming the accessory and washing his $2,000,000 down the drain.

With fruitless efforts and exhausted arms, you slouch against the bathroom wall and wave a white flag. You decide to succumb to the stubborn ring's desires and move on with your nightly routine. Instead of having your usual shower, however, you run a bath instead to avoid harming these damned diamonds. It is almost comical to lay in these bubbles completely nude while still wearing this single piece of jewelry. You wonder how Miguel would react to seeing you like this, physically scowling at the lust-ridden response you know he would have.

Speak of the devil, another message from him chimes on your phone. The hologram expands from its spot on the counter, once more. He inquires why you haven't responded to him, as if you would drop everything just to converse with him. He would do the same for you in a heartbeat, but that fact remains unknown to you.

A mere minute passes before an onslaught of messages begins to pour into the room. The rapid ding! of your phone causes you to clench your teeth with fervent irritation. You groan before abruptly escaping the warm embrace of bathwater to grasp your phone. Ignoring all incessant begs for your attention, you put your phone on mute and savor the tranquility that follows. You also overlook the mentions of "not being able to see you" and "his cameras disconnecting" in favor of returning to your peaceful bath.

Your state of relaxation is short-lived, much to your dismay. Not even several minutes later the tumultuous sound of fists banging on your front door permeates. The sudden intrusion of noise sends a shock of terror into your heart. Due to recent events, you fear the crime that has spread throughout Nueva York is now standing outside your home. Could it be someone begging for help? Or could it be someone eager to take your life? Swiftly ensnaring a robe around your body, you hastily tie the knot as you rush to identify the one responsible for the clamor.

Another groan of vexation escapes your throat when you see Miguel at your doorstep through the peephole. The fear simmers but returns when you can't piece together how on Earth he knew where you lived. You hesitate to open the door, but it isn't like you have much of a choice in that matter.

The door creaks open. And the reaction Miguel has seeing you in a robe and his diamonds is more than perceptible. Almost as if whatever excuse he conjured up for being at your home at this hour had been snagged from his brain. His eyes travel from your head to your toes, then back upwards, before reality slaps him across the face and forces him out of wonderland. The fear pumping through his body depleted the second Miguel saw you, to where nothing but a hot canopy of tranquility embraced him. The confused, puppy-like expression on your face, the thin robe protecting you from exposure, and his precious diamonds on your hand — nothing about this sight could save him from the tsunami of devotion that has swallowed him whole.

His arms are around you faster than you could think. And he just melts.

You meekly attempt to escape his tenacious hold, but your efforts are never brought to fruition. With his large hands clasped onto your body and his face nuzzled into your neck, escaping this man and his smothering love was a mere pipe dream.

If the emotions coursing through Miguel in this moment had somehow become a physical matter, he would care for it like he would a newborn baby. Tend to its every need, soothe it when it fusses, give away every ounce of love his heart can possibly accommodate. It contradicts his current performance as an actual parent, but all of his soul was reserved for you, after all.

"I can't live without you." It has only been several hours since you last saw him. Why is he acting like this?

Your efforts to escape accelerate when the razor-like point of his teeth poke against your neck. A harsh shriek then emerges from you when fangs protrude into your flesh. Something unfamiliar pumps through your system with rapid speed. It courses through your body and envelops every inch with profuse lethargy. The exhaustion satiates everything. It is all you can perceive. You slump against Miguel's toned physique like a wet noodle, to where he fully supports your weight with adoring fervor. Whispers of praise and gentle proclamations of love are the last thing you perceive before you drift off.

The dizzy sight of blurred city lights and bedsheets is what you see next. No Miguel, no bathrobes, no ensnaring embraces. Just you and your warped, distorted vision. You attempt to pull your head forward, only for gravity to fail you when you loll back onto the puffy pillows. When your hazy vision fades into something more distinct, you are finally able to discern some of your physical surroundings.

A bedroom that certainly does not belong to you is what you are met with. It is luxurious. Expensive. Lush. An incredible contrast to the small, decrepit bungalow you called home. The tall windows display the remarkable city from its highest point. The gentle, red-hued lamplight frames the late-night clouds drifting about and the planes soaring through the sky. You are laid against a circle-framed bed where several exorbitant comforters are draped around you. The robe you were adorned in hours ago was gone, too. Now, you are dressed in a high-quality, silken pajama set you do not recognize.

Your head relentlessly aches as you attempt to study the entire scene before you. The sensation is alike someone slamming a hammer into your brain. You bring your hand to your temple in a feeble attempt at easing the ache, but the freezing touch of the diamonds on your finger make you hiss from the stimulation. It channels a groan from your throat. The sound you make is simultaneously met with the distorted echo of a stranger's cooing. They purr out whispers of comfort and love, failing miserably in mending the fear stirring within you.

"Oh, button… You have no idea how long I have wanted this." Miguel fucking O'Hara. That revolting, candy-sweet voice belongs to no other than Miguel O'Hara.

He towers over you, as he always does. Dread tickles your bones and dances among the goosebumps trailing your flesh. Questions swarm within your brain as you attempt to scrutinize what you could have done to anger this man. You've heard through the grapevine how catastrophic his fury is, after all.

Contrary to popular belief, however, Miguel is not the flaming ball of rage he appears to be. Well, he at least isn't like that with you. Everyone else has clear evidence of the absolute rabid dog this man can be. It is evident in his greedy, adoring hands that have been stained red more times than he can count. It is evident in the warm pool of his brown irises that only appear blood-hued when you are not around. It is evident in absolutely everything he does.

This fact doesn't change at this moment, either. With the speed of a predator stalking prey, Miguel steadily climbs onto the bed and straddles you. You can only lay paralyzed and stare at the man above you in trepidation. With frail efforts, you are able to garner a sliver of mobility when you attempt to push him off. He resorts to grasping hold of your wrists and pinning them beside your head. So much for that plan. His abnormally sharp nails dig into your flesh; his nose pokes the bridge of yours when he bends down. His breath fans against your face and the familiar sight of his heart-shaped pupils is now overwhelming. Once again, his eyes are glued onto the one place they always seem to be: your lips. You can practically taste the need exuding from him.

A hologram then appears in front of his face. A monotone, robotic voice emanates into the silent room. "Your heart rate is 110 BPM. This has alarmingly exceeded your average BPM. If you are in danger, please press-"

The anger you heard rumors of fills him to the brim. Something daring to refrain him from drowning you in his love is equivalent to ordering a one-way ticket into the depths of Hell. A grunt and curse emerge from him. With a rushed flick of his finger, the hologram disappears as quickly as it came.

And without another second to perceive his actions, his lips are on yours. It is an almost god-like fervor he possesses. Your relentless struggling flies over the head of the absolute beast on top of you. It is instead met with the sharp prick you felt the night before on your lips. The same sensations flood through your veins, once again. This time, however, you are still able to regain consciousness and the small dosage succeeds in immobilizing your body. Now, you are entirely susceptible to whatever your kidnapper intends to have you endure.

Meanwhile, Miguel is utterly convinced he has left Earth and is now resting on Cloud-Nine. The unadulterated affection and sheer giddiness derived from your kiss bubble in his chest like a fizzy, sugar-ridden soda. He even considers he had somehow gotten drunk on the beverage, even though there is no physical indication of the beverage even existing. The way his heart batters like a savage animal locked in a cage is enough evidence to convince him otherwise, though. This kiss was only done to debilitate you, yes, but he would be a fool if he believed he could hold himself back from indulging in this moment.

Forehead pressed against yours, he speaks with breathless tremor. "I..." He gulps, "I got you another gift, button."

Once Miguel deems himself satisfied, he laps up the drops of blood that cascade from your lips with bone-chilling glee. Reluctantly, he withdraws from the close contact. His attention then begrudgingly drifts from you and to something on the bedside table. You are unable to turn your head and identify his actions, you can only lay on this bed in complete, paralyzed submission.

In his hands is a bowl of your favorite ice cream. "You never finished your bowl at the parlor. Remember?" You are still unsure of where he learned this was your preferred flavor.

When you expect him to bring the plastic, pastel-pink spoon to your lips, he does the opposite. Instead, he feeds himself a spoonful of the ice cream. Then, much to your horror, he presses his thumb to your chin and indulges in another kiss. His tongue slithers into your mouth, to where he coerces you to consume the sugary substance directly from him. Like a fucking mother bird. Your moans of discomfort are mistaken for sounds of pleasure. The noise elicits a muffled grunt from Miguel that vibrates against your lips. After all, the guttural groans protruding from him are enough to inform you he is enjoying this far more than you are.

"You can't just walk into my life, take my heart, then try and leave." Another quick, yet deep, kiss is forced upon you before he continues. "I won't let you. I can’t let you…”

A mess of ice cream, saliva, and stained blood paint your abused lips. Miguel backs away from your mouth and the separation provides you ephemeral comfort. For the umpteenth time, he hastily scoops another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and fervently forces it into yours. It is absolute torture.

Any attempt at pushing this monster away from you and puking out any trace of him left in you was entirely fruitless. The spongy muscle of his tongue continues to explore your mouth with more heaps of ice cream. Miguel kisses, slurps, and guzzles all remnants of you he can garner. You wonder if he had bought the entire parlor with how much ice cream he appeared to have.

"I love you too fucking much..." All you can do is let him relish in the euphoria he feels upon his actions and pray to God that it will end soon.

This is what life looked like for the following months. Miguel forcing his love onto you the way he forced ice cream down your throat.

And it is what life looked like when he lost you. Miguel forcing the universe to adhere to his needs the way he forced you into being his lover.

October 17th. It was all his fault.

He remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. It was a frigid Saturday morning. Miguel dropped Gabriella off at school for soccer practice, not bothering to wave or kiss his daughter goodbye, once again. Instead, he leaves quickly to purchase an expensive necklace and another order of your favorite ice cream to surprise you. Diamonds and sugar are the best way to someone's heart, right?

The ice cream falls from his hands and splats against the ground when he finds you. The diamonds are now chipped and dented from falling onto the hardwood floors. His breath is lodged in his chest as if his lungs had been crushed beneath the weight of the sight that stood before him. His eyes are blown wide in confused horror as if the mere action of blinking would kill him in his stance.

You lay on the floor of his office.

Lifeless. Cold. Dead.

The vibrant spider webs he used to tie the ring to your hand had conducted an electric flow from the watch he had been working on and into your body.

The electricity you made him feel was now the reason you were dead.

However, Miguel refuses to see this. He brings your body into his embrace, choosing to ignore the lack of reciprocation and silent pulse. You are just asleep, you are just asleep, you are just asleep. Tears overwhelm his vision, hiccups penetrate his chest, and unruly sobs fill the air. Still, he clings to you and persists in what he is desperate to believe as the truth. You are just asleep. You're always so sleepy, it is just too adorable! Maybe some ice cream will wake you up. Right? Right...?

Incessant demands to open your eyes fill the air, which soon turns into a series of relentless, incoherent pleads. Miguel webs the battered necklace and spilled ice cream into his hands. He ensnares the jewelry around your neck, a choked compliment of how beautiful you look barely able to escape through unruly sobs. His trembling hands then bring a spoonful of your favorite ice cream to your lips, ushering you to open your mouth and let him feed you. The tears staining his vision make it hard to see what he is doing. He loses the mobility of the spoon, to where it then clatters against the ground.

Large hands then cling to your face as he forcefully shakes you and calls out your name.

"WAKE UP! Y/N, WAKE UP!" The desperate, thunderous roar could have torn the world asunder with its violent force. It surely would have woken you up, had you been alive. Miguel knows this and it destroys him.

Miguel grasps the watch on top of the desk, you still in his arms. The desire to absolutely destroy the very thing that took you from him was almost feral. When he thought of the intentions he originally had upon creating the machine, however, he sought against it. Clicking the metal walls back into place, he taps a few buttons in the correct order. The room is then adorned in neon colors that frame a pitch-black portal. From here, Miguel stands to his feet with you in his arms and ventures through.

He abandons his daughter, abandons his life, abandons everything.

When he first learned of the existence of the Multiverse through his job at Alchemax, he fantasized about creating the perfect world where you and him can be together. He crafted it from scratch, but it still needed a few more knots tightened and screws fastened before he could have given it to you. Blinding sunshine and vibrant blue skies; healthy green grass and a single house on a hill. The clouds drifting in the sky resemble a myriad of different shapes, where Miguel had hoped you and him could do cloud-gazing with one another. The flowers planted in the soil all contrast in variety and color, where Miguel had hoped you could make him a personal flower crown like you did for his daughter. And of course, an invisible force surrounds the small plot of land to ensure you won't go wandering.

Where it can be just you and him. Where you can never escape his love. Where you can be happy together.

Things are much different now. He was too late. Miguel can only stand here with your lifeless body in his arms, surrounded by the clean home he intended on spending forever in. The satiating grief had turned into desolate numbness. He doesn’t waste another second before taking action. Laying your body into the bed you two were intended to share, he assures himself you are just taking an afternoon nap. Then, he begins to forage the home for something, anything, that will wake you from your slumber. Like sleeping beauty, he desperately muses to himself.

Within several weeks, your poor body had been strapped to the bed with numerous tubes and IVs protruding into your body. Miguel stands by a desk, a myriad of holograms displaying information that would be incomprehensible to even the smartest of people. Eye bags sit heavy on his face from restless nights; his eyes are swollen and red from the lack of sleep.

He doesn't care if he has to kill every person in the Multiverse, endure the most gut-wrenching pain known to man, or even sell his soul to the devil himself. He will do anything to see you open your eyes again. Even if it is just to slap him across the face or to scream at him for taking you from your old life, he still needs it. You'd be home. And that is all Miguel could ever want.

However, he was so occupied in doing everything within his power to bring you back to him, that he hadn't realized just how uneducated he was about the Multiverse. When he wakes up after falling asleep at his desk to the strange sound of something sizzling, he looks and finds the furniture around the room begin to glitch. Almost as if he was living in a simulation. The closer the malfunctions accelerate to you, the quicker he is to take every device plunged into your body and bring you into his arms.

The foundations of the home vibrate beneath his feet, and he then sprints from the bedroom and down the stairs. A violent crash echoes from behind him when he finally escapes through the front door. He doesn't dare to look behind him, he only holds your body closer to him and sprints forward.

A few taps to his watch and a portal unfolds just several yards from him. When he was a mere footstep from escaping with you, the force of the destruction snatched you from his embrace. He tries to fight against the energy pulling him into the gateway he summoned and practically flails his body around like a dying insect. His desperate efforts to retrieve you are of no use when his strength is overpowered by his own machine. Inevitably, he falls into the portal.

A harsh cry of "NO!" flees from his mouth before he finds himself back in Nueva York. Alone.

The world Miguel had put his blood, sweat, and tears into creating had crumbled right before his eyes. And right in the middle of the mess is where the only thing he has ever loved is.

As the story of all Spider-People goes, Miguel uses every bit of energy derived from his grief. He, however, does not use it for the sake of others or to ensure no one ever feels the pain of losing a loved one. Instead, he vows to study more of the Multiverse and create technology that can bring your body back to him. He was so close to waking you up! He just needed a little more time!

During his endeavors, he soon meets Jessica Drew, and all delusions he claimed to be the truth shattered like glass onto concrete. Here, Miguel learns of the "Y/N-Curse," as she so called it. How every Spider-Person is destined to fall hopelessly in love with a version of Y/N, only to lose them in the end. She tells him of how she was in love with her own version of them, too, during her teenage years, which made Miguel spark with territorial rage. After beating around the push for too long, what she tells him causes his entire body to go rigid with shock.

Everyone was so used to the stoic, cold, terrifying Miguel O'Hara. Only Jessica Drew had seen that exterior disintegrate when he learned your body had been destroyed and it was impossible to retrieve you. His absolute worst nightmare had manifested into reality and nothing could ever conquer the amount of pain he feels now.

You are gone.

Forever.

If it wasn't for Jessica's high-speed, spider-induced senses, Miguel would have succeeded in killing her and then himself right in that moment.

From here, he agreed to Jessica's inquiries about starting a society of Spider-People all across the Multiverse. If not for others, then for you. Even if it is not the same Y/N from his reality, any version of you does not deserve to suffer. Still, to live every day watching millions of versions of you die through the numerous holograms sat on his desk tortures him in ways he cannot fathom. It is killing him, but when it is for you, he will do absolutely anything.

He will find a way to stop this curse. Even if it is the last thing he ever does.

With that, your life was over. May 16th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara met the only thing that ever mattered to him. And October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost them.

A year has now passed since Miguel lost you and your story on Earth-1610 has kicked into full gear.

March 30th, 2023. Roughly a month has passed since you began these tutoring sessions. One hour every Tuesday and Thursday. That is all it was; that was all it was supposed to be.

Within the short expanse of 18 years, Miles Morales has never felt such exhilaration then when he is with you. Life has exploded in various hues of rapture, enchantment, and those all-too-familiar sensations of goosebumps blooming across his skin. When he miscalculates an equation on purpose to hear your euphonious voice correct him; when he feigns frustration to feel the warmth of your comfort and reassurance — oh, there is nothing that could ever equate to these newfound emotions. These two hours a week have become the highlight of his life and will forever remain so, he is sure of it.

3:27 PM flickers in neon green on Miles' wristwatch. 33 minutes until he gets to reunite with you. The love of his life, his soon-to-be spouse, the future parent of his beautiful children. It is impossible to contain the effervescent excitement as he sits here atop the numerous pillars adorning the Brooklyn Bridge.

A sketchbook sits in his hand, a technical pen in the other. Only several more empty pages are available, as the other ones have all been painted with your face. More sketchbooks contained with similar drawings are hidden in his bedroom back home. The amount of money his mother has spent on sketchbooks this month has become alarming. Rio is starting to edge over suspicion when his excuses of "I lost it" and "I spilled water on it" have been wrung dry.

And the drawings on these pages are a picture-perfect definition of lovesick. Sketches of what you would wear on your wedding day, illustrations of you and him on adorable dates, and of course, the alarmingly accurate depictions of you. Every detail of your form has become muscle memory now; every feature and "blemish" of yours is imprinted in Miles' brain. His foot taps with anticipation against the stone surface. Oh, he cannot wait to see you again.

Hastily, he shoves the art equipment into his cluttered backpack. A silver web sprouts from his wrist when he jumps from the skyscraper-high pillar. He soars through the city and hums to one of the numerous love songs on his playlist dedicated to you. Swinging past several graffiti pieces he's made of your face and ignoring a poor woman whose purse was being stolen, Miles soon makes it through his bedroom window.

At record speed, he rids himself of his sweaty suit and dresses himself in the best articles of clothing from his closet. A pair of jeans he hadn't doodled on, a Brooklyn Nets jersey over a white tee, and a pair of freshly-bought Air Jordans. For a final touch, a spritz of cologne he stole borrowed from a Tom Ford store. He would wear a tailored suit, but his request to have such was rejected by his parents. You needed to see how serious he was about you. After all, who knows how many others are in line to snag your heart? Miles' body erupts with chills at the mere thought.

Patching up the final efforts of his outfit in the mirror, he hears the front door creak open and the elated tone of his mother escapes through the thin walls. Then, there is your voice. And in our entire universe, there is absolutely nothing that can compare to the sheer music of your voice. He takes a deep breath to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision, before finally leaving his bedroom. When he turns the corner and makes eye contact with you, the sweet shock it brings to his senses is almost enough to make him collapse onto the kitchen tile.

"Hey, Miles." He certainly would not mind waking up to that every day.

"Y-Y/N! It's good to see you! No, great, actually. It-It's great to see you! I'm happy you're here... Very happy, heh..." The fact he is able to muster a single syllable in your presence is nothing short of a miracle.

A mere 20 minutes has now passed since you have entered the Morales residence. You and Miles are sat at the dining room table, surrounded by a mess of highlighters, study guides, and practice quizzes. And this boy could win an Oscar with how well he plays dumb. Miscalculating equations, picking wrong answers, and misspelling simple words. With the few questions he purposely answers correctly, every "Nice job!" and "You got it!" has him staring at you as if he had looked into the night sky for the very first time. Oh, the sight of your sunlit smile and the sound of your mellifluous voice are seconds away from making him melt into a puddle.

Rio then enters the room with her phone in hand, much to Miles' dismay. As he is about to groan at her presence and demand through clenched teeth for her to leave, she then speaks.

"Y/N/N! Your boyfriend's on the phone! He said he had some trouble getting a hold of you." A knowing smirk is sat on her lips. However, there is also a gleam of disappointment over the fact she couldn't have someone as amazing as you join the Morales family.

With zero romance in your work-induced life, you are puzzled upon receiving this information. However, you then playfully roll your eyes, assuming it was a friend of yours playing a stupid prank. This action, however, told Miles all that he needed to know. The person on the other line has been granted the absolute privilege of calling you theirs.

And his world shatters.

With a "Thank you, Mrs. Morales," you take the phone and leave to the other room. Unbeknownst to you, you leave behind a downhearted mother and a devastated boy trying desperately to gather the pieces of his broken heart. His agony is almost palpable, which Eio takes notice of immediately. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. She then informs him that there will be so many other fish in the sea the young boy will meet in his life, but she is oblivious to the weight of her son's devotion.

There is no one after you; there is nothing if it can't be you.

Meanwhile, you sing out an amused "hellooooo?" into the phone's speaker. You say your friend's name, exclaiming of how you know this is them and that this stunt they pulled against the infatuated student you tutor was cruel.

You wait for their witty response, to where there is none. All you can hear is the sound of someone's trembling breaths. You say their name in question a few more times, inquiring if the creepy mood was just another silly joke. When all you are met with is sheer silence accompanied by heavy breathing, you bid your friend an annoyed goodbye and end the call.

When you return to the dining room, you are muddled to find there is no one there. Before you are able to call out anyone's name in question, a loud and sharp bang! shakes the entire house. You can hear Rio's muffled voice through the walls. Although you are unable to discern her speech, the perceptible worry in her tone shakes you to your core. What has happened while you were gone? You follow the sounds, only to find her at Miles' bedroom, begging him to unlock the door and let her in. Within said bedroom, it sounds as though a tornado had formed within the small expanse and was destroying anything within its path.

Rio sees you in her peripheral and is swift with taking her phone back, ignoring your worried inquiries, and guiding you back to the dining room. A forced smile is planted on her face as she advises you to pack your things since Miles has suddenly "fallen sick." She begins to pack your things for you and of course, you aid her in these efforts, but she is far more frantic than you are. She slaps several dollar bills in your hand and when you try to inform her this was triple the pay she is meant to give you, your efforts fall on deaf ears. Rio then puts your backpack on you as if you were her child on your first day of Kindergarten.

With a gentle hand on your back, she leads you out the door. On the way, she gives you thanks and apologizes profusely for the unexpected trouble. Before you can reply, the door is slammed in your face. You are left in the dark expanse of the hallway, wondering what on Earth had just occurred. As much as you wish to help, you know there is nothing you can do at this current moment. You consider sending them a gift basket later on to aid Miles through his unexpected "sickness," before returning home as Rio advised you to.

You leave, blissfully unaware of what events are taking place within the Morales household.

When you had left to take the phone call, that is when disaster struck. With tears seeping down his cheeks, Miles abruptly stood from the dining room and stormed off to his room, his mother close behind. He slammed the door shut, locking it before proceeding to take out every sliver of emotion within his body on whatever helpless matter sat closest to him.

Miles' room became a complete disaster within the matter of seconds.

Action figures have been dismembered, posters are torn down, and art equipment has been destroyed. The dents in the wall from what he has thrown about are accompanied by the fist-shaped hole he left in the wall. A window has been shattered, his bed has been upturned, and his desk has been split in half. All emotions barreling through his body wreaked havoc on anything within his path.

His clenched fists form moon-crescent shapes into his palm; his chest rises and falls rapidly with infuriated breaths. His entire body is shaking with misery, rage, and horror. He feels everything at once and it is destroying him. The sobs being pulled from his chest feel like knife wounds through his heart. The tears falling from his cheeks paint his shirt wet and stain his hands from consistently attempting to wipe them away.

How could he not have known?

Through bleary vision, he glances at the door of his closet which has suffered immensely from his havoc, with violent indents and chunks of wood protruding out. Miles then drags his exhausted body across the room.

He enters the closet and locks the door behind him.

How could he not have known?

Just outside all of this destruction, you walk through the bristling streets of Brooklyn. A sharp chill sits on the back of your neck, almost as if someone was hot on your tail. It has you whipping around to verify no sudden danger was there to welcome you to your demise. Usually, walks through the city are calming to you. Tonight, for whatever reason, was different. You excuse it as still feeling perturbed from what had happened moments before with Miles, but the sensation still lingers.

Swinging from building to building behind you is Miguel O'Hara.

He had sat on the top of a neighboring building with a 2023-modeled phone in his hand. Hearing your voice, after a full year of being without the euphonious melody, had his heart halting in his chest. Even after you ended the call, he still sat there. Flabbergasted. Stunned. Euphoric.

The plan he conjured up was swift and flawed. Anyone in their right mind would be devastated to hear your heart belonged to another. Especially Miles Morales. Acknowledging this, he ushered the boy into a full mental breakdown right before you. The sight would surely terrify you, leading you to run away and leave him in the dust of your past. However, this was not the case. Instead, you were concerned about his well-being and wished to stay. The sharp envy coursing through Miguel led him to chuck the phone against the concrete surface of the roof, a few of the shattered remains piercing his skin.

What prevents him from tearing out Miles' throat, scooping you into his arms, and taking you far away is the state of the Multiverse. He refuses to make the same mistake he made a year ago; he refuses to put you in any sort of danger ever again.

For now, he'll create a ridge between you and the boy you're destined to fall in love with. Forging messages, fabricating lies, causing another childlike meltdown of millions. Miguel will do everything in his power to ensure you feel nothing but contempt for this boy while protecting you from your impending death in the process.

He just hopes nobody else in the Spider Society finds out you are alive, as well.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ YOU SAID I WAS THE MOST EXOTIC FLOWER,

HOLDING ME TIGHT IN OUR FINAL HOUR . . . ❞

pinterest owns my heart so i couldn't stop myself. here, here, here, here, and here are some examples/inspiration i used for miguel's penthouse.

gif creds :: miguel.

tag list :: @honey-beeuwu, @thel0v3hashira143, @cailey1011, @mickxxstxvxns-blog, @flaming-vulpix, @puthypirate42069, @dolliemoons, @mikalovesnoodles, @explosiongamora, @thegalacticnacho091, @brinleighsstuff, @shinsou-hoetoshi, @uselessbutinteresting, @amortentor, @fried-milkfish, @officiallypoopoo, @lu-lupe, @belladonnashifter, @forgottenbynature, @marooseshawnash, @funtimefoxybae, @ethnicbratz, @painpainflyaway, @shadepelt4673, @vivacioussaint, @palepettycharmer, @rqdior, @clownwiki, @clever-username96, @bisoudoll, @darlingdontwe, @naiomiwinchester, @weskennedysgirl, @chubbuart, @simpfo, @neytirisarrow, @leilani04, @lizzymizzy-blogg,

@sublimesoulmagazine, @minimari415, @hcmay, @jinuaei, @altusha, @daisygirlll, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @islandgyal06, @the-hufflebird-girl, @laucoeurs, @nepherawinchester18307, @tiredao3reader, @decadentlawyerapricotcowboy, @kitisb0red, @gabiacee, @reneuv, @krentkova19, @ayupfrogg, @vita-nire, @emmbny, @realifezompire, @hiddencatails, @vincentluvr444, @reneuv, @coolpolicellama, @3zae-zae3, @uselessbutinteresting, @imcool-rat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @theclassycandy, @mialetty, @johnny-pie, @4ng3l-0n-34rth, @twobluejeans, @dazaisimp17, @spacemonkeyfitz, @dressycobra7, @rainbowstar, @darksidescorner, @day-dreams-posts, @superiorbyfar, @thel0v3hashira143, & @cailey1011,

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fenrysmoonbeamswife · 4 months ago

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Masterpost #1

Topic: Cassian is an abusive bastard

- Told Nesta everyone hates her

- Told her he couldn't understand why her sisters loved her

- Harassed her even when she continuously told him to leave her alone

- Followed her home

- Locked her up and acted as her jailer. Forced her to train as a warrior because she was using sex as a coping mechanism and proceeded to abuse that coping mechanism and have sex with her when she was at her most emotionally vulnerable

- Had sex with her at a time he had so much authority over her he dictated what she ate

- Purposely had Azriel pack a heavy bag so she would physically suffer on the hike

- Didn't stand up for her or even blink when Rhysand threatened to kill her

- Realized she was suicidal and continued to force her on a hike with lethal drops and didn't bother to look back at her for hours and days until she fainted

- Didn't tell her that Feyre wasn't angry with her anymore, leaving her in mental agony for days

- Forced her to physically exert herself while simultaneously using mental abuse until she collapsed physically and had a complete mental breakdown

- Had sex with her after her mental breakdown as some sort of reward for finally breaking for him

- Sexualized her and focused on her boobs after pointing out that she was emaciated from not eating because she was so depressed

- Used her fathers death against her because she *checks notes* wouldn't eat her plain oatmeal

- Put hands on her directly after finding out about Tomas and wouldn't let go until she physically hurt him the only way she could

- Planned for 10 minutes how to rile her up and argue with her and then villainized her

- He has built their entire relationship on spite, he treats her like an obligation something broken he needs to fix but never with understanding or empathy. Something that was forced on him pursued her against her will while ignoring her boundaries. Their entire relationship is based on power plays and asserting dominance over her

- Borderline violent and degrading sex with no aftercare while she is at her lowest

- Using her body to calm his own frustrations while blatantly ignoring her emotional state

- Emotional manipulation. He consistently uses her vulnerability against her, pushes her to get better on his terms while simultaneously throwing her failures in her face, making her feel unworthy, abusing her coping mechanisms, laughing at her pain. Perpetuating that she is only worthy if she falls in line with what he and the IC want from her. He consistently attempts to mold her into being someone more palatable (Feyre) rather than accepting who she is and helping her for who she is

- He contributes directly to her ultimate breakdown. He does nothing to help when she's quite literally begging for support and even goes so far as to worsen her situation repeatedly

- Villainizing her even when she's being perfectly placid. Eg. During the solstice scene she is pleasant, she wishes Feyre HB, thanks Elain for her gifts profusely, speaks nicely with Azriel, sits back and allows them to exchange gifts without interfering (though they forced her to be there and got her nothing), kisses Elain fondly before leaving, she mostly just sits their the entire time and Cassians POV afterwards?? "He'd had enough of the coldness, the sharpness. Enough of the sword straight spine and sharp stare." Not that she was blackmailed into coming, ignored all night and had gifts flaunted in front of her and was STILL pleasant

- Agreed with Mor when she equated Nesta with her borderline evil abusers. AND thought about how he was blown away by Mor's beauty while she sat there saying that Nesta should be tortured in a dungeon

- Affirmed her insecurities every chance he could

- Heard about how she was groomed and preyed on at 14 and made it about himself

- Judged her for being a child and not parenting another child the first second he met her even though she allowed him into her home

- Sees how strong her emotions are for others and then later claims that "she barely seems to care about anyone other than Elain"

- Laughs when she falls down the stairs, she has bruises and a black eye from this fall

- Doesn't correct her when she voices her feeling that she isn't good enough for him and doesn't deserve him

- Laughs behind her back that Rhysand is happy she will hate the hike

- She collapses every day on the hike and never speaks and all he says is "at least remove the pack so I can cook myself dinner"

- Works her to the point of literally fainting face first and he yells at her

- When she breaks down finally and tells him how much she hates herself, he tells her how much he loves Rhysand

- Claims there is nothing broken to be fixed yet he forces her to obey him and change everything about herself and behave in the way he approves of

- When she attempts to be open and communicative with him and explains how mate doesn't mean to her what it means to him because she's still human at heart he dismisses her and says it's bullshit

- When she calls in her bargain he doesn't respect it and immediately thinks of a way to get around it. He does not respect her or the boundaries she attempts to set. She says she wants a week alone yet he shows up the very next day and acts like she just wasn't clever enough to evade him

- While she is terrified and hoping he will come rescue her from the blood rite he says he even if he could he wouldn't

- He never says I love you NOT ONCE

- When Rhysand yells at and threatens Nesta for helping Bryce, Cassian does not defend her and even joins in and snarls at her

- Says he can take whatever she throws at him and then literally two seconds later he fucks her out of it for saying something mildly rude about Rhysand

The fact that I could keep going and going but I'm just too angry. Cassian sucks and anyone who likes him is perpetuating the forgiveness of abusive men. I don't care if he is a fictional character, he is a carbon copy of real life abusive men and the support of him and blatant ignoring of his abuse is disgusting and harmful. I'm sorry but anyone who claims to love Nesta but loves Cassian?? Uh YA LYING. If your best friend or your mother was being treated the way Cassian treats Nesta would you be happy with their relationship? I don't think so.

Inspired by @kataraavatara because she slays

#pro nesta #nesta archeron #anti cassian #sjm #anti nessian #anti rhysand

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veren-cos · 8 months ago

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Bachelors (sdv) x gn!reader

Bachelors and self-harm comfort

TW mentions of Self Harm and suicidal ideation.

If you struggle with either of these, I strongly encourage you to reach out to someone and get help. You are not alone.

These are not super graphic, but definitely more graphic than my other fics if you have read those. So please read with caution.

These are all assuming you are in an established relationship.

Sam

• This was a long standing issue for you. You knew Sam would find out eventually one way or another, so you made it a point to tell him rather then him accidentally finding out.

• But when you did tell him, it was pure panic.

• He doesn't know how to help you, he didn't know how he never noticed! Does he tell anyone? Does he call anyone? Why didn't you tell him until now??

• Once he gathers himself a little bit, he asks for more details.

• He knows that you need him, and not to make it about him by breaking down.

• He starts keeping an extra eye out for if you are acting any different, or if he sees any warning signs.

• He tries really hard to be there for you, and knows he won't be perfect.

• Makes a trip to Harvey's to ask how to help 'someone' who struggles with sh and suicidal ideation.

• Harvey suggested that Sam brings that 'someone' to the clinic with him to have a little chat.

• You and Sam head down one day and you all make a plan on what to do when things get really bad.

• Mostly involves extra support, and you getting into a therapist on a semi-regular basis.

Sebastian

• Sebastian I think would be the most aware of the signs besides Harvey?

• So when he sees you avoiding him a bit, or not letting him touch you when normally you're all over him, he knows something is wrong.

• "Babe, whats up?" He gentle grabs your arm. "What's wrong? You've been acting different for a while now. Are you okay?"

• He isn't accusatory or anything when you tell him. He just pulls you into a tight hug.

• He just wants to be there for you. Self Harm is a really difficult topic, both to experience, and to witness. He tries to get to the cause of why you do it, but you honestly don't even know.

• You know you shouldn't, but sometimes it feels like all you can do.

• After talking about it for a long time, you eventually go to sleep in his arms.

• When you wake up, he already had some sort of breakfast made because he knew you'd be too tired.

• He left out some super old books about mental health he had (Aka like one from high school) and offered to look through them with you.

• Checks in with you frequently, and isn't one to dance around the topic. Yes, he handles it gently and shocking calmly, but he knows you can't avoid talking about it.

Alex

• Not going to lie, the way I see a relationship progressing (Aka kinda intense and fast paced) he would find out before intimacy.

• You were already a little nervous so you completely blanked on your old scars and relatively new self harm.

• So when he saw, you panicked, and then he panicked because you were panicking, and all around it was chaos.

• Nothing went to plan that day because you just ran to the bathroom to cry.

• ...

• He knocked on the door, "babe.. Could you come out please? We should talk about this."

• "I don't want to"

• " Babe come on." He tried the handle and it opened.

• "It's okay. You're okay. I'm not mad, now can you talk to me about this?"

• You opened up and told him everything. With Alex being the most stereotypically attractive out of all the Bachelor's, you'd be very nervous about letting him see scars.

• But he doesn't care. He thinks they are proof of how strong you are and how far you have come.

• "Babe I just want to be here for you. We don't have to rush anything. I don't care if you have scars, you're beautiful. I love you, and you will get through this."

Harvey

• Harvey finds out during your first physical.

• This I feel would be just after you started dating.

• But he asks the dreaded question of "have you had thoughts of hurting yourself or others?"

• You knew you had to tell him. No matter how awkward or emotionally taxing it got, it was important both in your relationship and for your personal health.

• So you did.

• He let his little doctor mask slip because he thought he already knew all your medical business, and that this was just a formality.

• "Dear..?" He looked so sad for you. "Why haven't you told me this?"

• Legit starts tearing up, because how on earth could you hate yourself? And to the point of hurting yourself?

• You start apologizing for not telling him sooner, "Harvey we had just started dating, I didn't want to put too much on you too soon. This is my problem to deal with!"

• And then he takes a few deep breaths, and collects himself to do this in a more professional manner.

• "My love, you do not have to go through this alone. I need you to tell me if you ever feel like.. hurting yourself. Okay? Call me. Call the clinic. Get me if I'm home. I will be there for you."

• "Even if we weren't dating, I would still be there for you! So no matter how much I care for you, because I so deeply care for you, this is my job."

• Sets you up with a therapist in the city, because he knows that even if you know you can talk to him, it's good to have a non-personal professional to be able to talk to.

Shane

• You helped him, now it was his turn to help you.

• Found out a morning he woke up early and you forgot to close the bathroom door. Not a fun scene to wake up to.

• I don't want to say he got angry, but he shouted,

• "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

• It was more out of sheer panic and distress rather than anger.

• You panicked, dropped everything, and basically burst into tears on the spot apologizing.

• Then he freaked out even more because he yelled at you and ran to give you a tight hug.

• Shane tried to calm you down, but it took a really long time to get you to stop hyperventilating.

• Eventually, he helped you clean everything up, and although it was really hard for you, he took you to Harvey's.

• Shane knew that he wouldn't be able to give you all the help you needed, he was still recovering himself.

• But he tries really hard to help, the same way you do with him.

• He helped you set up going to a therapist. You go to the same office as he does.

• He will be there for you every step of the way. Won't let you go.

• He truly understands, and just wants the both of you to feel better.

Elliott

• He would feel guilty for not noticing the signs.

• "My love..?" He is just so confused when he sees. "My love what did you do?"

• Doesn't exactly panic but is just dumbfounded. How could you hate yourself? How could you not like yourself? Why on earth..?

• He helps you clean up, though is a little queezy with blood.

• He would keep himself relatively strong in front of you, but you hear him crying for you when he thinks you're asleep.

• He is there for you, he asks Leah because he trusts her (though would not actually bring up your name. Would make it under the guise of a situation in his book)

• He wouldn't invade your privacy. But he just would check with you a lot more.

• He loves you, and just wants to see you love yourself.

An* Once again, if you struggle with self harm or suicidal ideation, please reach out for help. Helplines and resources are a quick Google away for your area. You are not alone. I promise things will get better.

Masterlist

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #tw self h4rm #tw s3lf harm #tw selfhate #tw

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youhideastar · 1 month ago

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Fangs of Fortune: A Primer

I keep hoping someone funnier or better with images than me will write a primer for this show, but I haven’t seen it yet, so it’s looking like I’m going to have to be the propaganda I want to see in the world.

Fangs of Fortune is a 34.5-episode drama that takes place in Ancient Fantasy China, split between the human world and the Wilderness (home of the yao/demons). You can watch it on iQiyi or YouTube. There will be some spoilers below, mostly for early episodes; photos here are from official production stills/promos. As far as I can tell, Fangs of Fortune is a (successful) attempt to get a m/m romantic pairing past the censors by giving the dudes a(n also-queer) female love interest as well, which is neat. The show cares way more about the characters than about the plot, so I’m going to follow suit, starting with…

Zhao Yuanzhou, a.k.a. Zhu Yan

30,000-year-old suicidal Great Demon with suave DILF energy, sky-high self-confidence, and rock-bottom self-worth. 8 years before the show opens, he was possessed by malicious energy and killed a ton of people, including the only living relatives (father and brother) of this guy:

Zhuo Yichen

24-year-old swordsman and demon hunter (head of the Demon Hunting Bureau, in fact), who wears the most beautiful costumes of all time, has sworn to avenge his family, and happens to be in possession of the only weapon that can kill the aforementioned Great Demon Zhao Yuanzhou—if only he knew how to use it.

On the dynamic between Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen, which is the driving force of this show, I can’t do better than this post and this post – please go read them, you will not regret it. In the meantime, please enjoy some homoerotic violent hand-holding.

Zhao Yuanzhou shows up at the Demon Hunting Bureau very sexily and offers to teach Zhuo Yichen to use said weapon, if Zhuo Yichen will (a) swear to kill him with it once they’re done, and (b) in the meantime, let Zhao Yuanzhou join the demon hunting crew. Specifically, he demands to be paired up with this lady:

Wen Xiao

Scholar, demon hunter, Zhuo Yichen’s sort-of foster sister, and technically the Baize Goddess, guardian of the Wilderness… but when her predecessor as Baize Goddess died, she couldn’t complete the transfer of her powers to Wen Xiao, leaving Wen Xiao unable to do the job, and sickly to boot. Wen Xiao compensates by being smarter, more socially adept, and more mentally healthy than everyone else in this cast… although I will grant that’s a low bar to clear.

While recruiting a crew to go after a pesky water demon, Wen Xiao runs into…

Pei Sijing

Stoic archer who recently retired from demon-hunting after she had to kill her own brother; target of Wen Xiao’s very persistent affections.

Here they are being cute together:

Congratulations, you have now met the polycule! There are also two comic-relief teenagers (with obligatory difficult backstories) and two villains, one of whom is boring and will be ignored, and one of whom is Zhao Yuanzhou’s human-hating mall goth demon ex-boyfriend Li Lun, as seen below:

There is not really an overarching plot: in general, the plot is driven by the desire to get Wen Xiao fully powered-up as the Baize Goddess so that she can fix stuff that has gone wrong in the Wilderness, but after a certain point, most plot arcs are driven by problems caused in the previous plot arc. The writers are way more invested in putting the characters in Situations that will crunch them up against each other in interesting ways than in having a coherent plot or worldbuilding. Fortunately, they are very good at writing these characters reacting to each other in Situations, so it works out.

Why should you watch this show? First, it is delightfully gay and there is great fic for it, which you will get more out of if you’re familiar with canon (but don’t let that stop you from diving in now…). Second, the writers are really good at building compelling relationships between characters, romantic and otherwise, and in particular, they have a gift for writing two-character dialogue scenes and cute banter. Third, damn, this is maybe the most visually beautiful show I’ve ever seen in my life. The costumes, in particular, are unbelievable.

Are there downsides? Yeah, candidly, you are going to spend a chunk of the first third of the show sitting through long flashbacks that I call The Ponderous Tragic Backstories of the Het Guest Stars when all you want to do is get back to the main characters. Don’t worry, the whole show is not like this. It happens four times (three toward the beginning and once toward the end). And at least even the Ponderous Tragic Backstories of the Het Guest Stars are still very pretty to look at.

Anyway – check it out! Ask me if you have questions! Correct me if I goofed on anything! See you in Queer Poly Ancient Fantasy China!

(Edited to correct the number of episodes, thank you, @kandadze!)

#fangs of fortune #dmgl #primer

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perfectsunlight · 3 months ago

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[30] I, CARRION (ICARIAN)

warnings: heavy themes (depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional distress, family conflict, intense feelings of isolation) and public scrutiny.

DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

jennie had always been afraid of falling. nothing good came from such an act. falling in love, falling out with friends, falling from fame. it was an act that symbolized the moment one became weak, vulnerable, and at the mercy of the world around them. and jennie kim had always prided herself on being anything but weak.

she had built her life, her career, and her reputation by standing firm. she had learned how to hold herself together when everyone else was falling apart. she knew how to stay on top—how to be untouchable. her world was one of carefully managed control, where every detail was scrutinized, planned, and executed to perfection. but the truth was, beneath that polished exterior, jennie was terrified of the one thing she couldn’t control: losing the people she loved.

falling, to jennie, wasn’t just a physical act. it was emotional, mental—it was the slow, creeping descent into something deeper and darker than she could manage. she had seen it happen too many times, to too many people. friends who had lost themselves in the chaos of fame. relationships that had crumbled under the weight of expectation. but nothing scared jennie more than the idea of falling away from the one person who mattered most.

ivory.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

becoming a mother had changed everything for jennie. it wasn’t a decision she had made lightly. in fact, when she first found out she was pregnant, fear had consumed her like nothing she had ever known. she could handle the demands of being an idol, the grueling schedules, the intense scrutiny, the endless pressure to be perfect. but being a mother? that felt like a fall she wasn’t prepared for.

and yet, when ivory was born, it wasn’t fear that overwhelmed jennie—it was love. a love so intense, so consuming, that it redefined everything she thought she knew about herself. ivory became the center of jennie’s universe, the only person who could truly make her feel both grounded and weightless at the same time.

but with that love came a new kind of fear.

jennie knew the demands of her life—the constant traveling, the public persona, the secrecy—would one day take its toll. ivory wouldn’t always be a child, oblivious to the world outside their small, hidden bubble. eventually, she would ask questions. she would want to know why jennie had kept their life a secret. she would wonder about her father, about the world jennie had shielded her from. and jennie feared that when that day came, ivory wouldn’t understand. she would see jennie not as a protective mother, but as someone who had kept her in the dark, someone who had hidden too much for too long.

i feel lighter than i have in so much time

i've crossed the border line of weightless

the more jennie thinks back, the more she concluded that this burning bridge started when her daughter was just a child. it started when jane would hide from her mother, the small habit becoming a sort of game between the two.

it began with those playful moments of hide-and-seek, when little ivory would giggle, darting away to find the best hiding spots—behind the sofa, beneath the dining room table, or even in the small space behind the curtain, her laughter ringing like chimes in the air. for jennie, it was a cherished game, one that solidified their bond and filled their home with warmth and joy.

“you know i’ll always catch you,” the idol had whispered to her daughter, her voice a playful mix of mock seriousness and warmth as she tried to pull a squirming toddler closer to her. the corners of her lips curled up in a smile, an expression of love that glimmered in her eyes like the soft glow of a sunset. ivory’s innocent laughter was a melody that echoed through the house, drowning out the worries of the outside world, the pressures of fame, and the relentless pace of her career.

in those moments, time felt suspended, and the burdens of life faded into the background. jennie had reveled in their little universe, a sanctuary built on shared secrets and unbreakable trust. they were a team, navigating the unpredictable waters of life together, her daughter’s tiny hand always reaching for hers, trusting that jennie would guide her through every storm.

but as the years slipped by, that innocence began to wane, replaced by the turbulent tides of adolescence. the once-cherished game transformed into a battleground of wills, where jennie found herself no longer seeking out her daughter’s hiding spots, but instead chasing shadows. each giggle that faded into the distance now felt like a reminder of what was lost, a haunting echo of the connection they once shared.

the playful laughter turned into hesitant sighs, and the hide-and-seek evolved into secrets tucked away in the corners of her daughter’s heart. where once she had run to jennie with open arms, she now retreated into her own world, a realm filled with friendships and experiences that jennie could only glimpse from afar.

but jennie knew she had to be an idol first, she always had to be. but her heart ached to simply just be a mother.

one deep breath out from the sky

i've reached a rarer height now that i can confirm

all our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

ivory was the perfect baby girl. she always had been, even when she cried and kept jieun and jennie up for hours.

those late nights, filled with the sounds of wailing, never diminished the beauty of her daughter. each cry was a reminder of ivory’s fierce spirit, a testament to the life she brought into their home. the way she scrunched her little nose in displeasure or how her tiny fists waved in frustration were moments that painted a picture of pure innocence.

jennie often found herself mesmerized by the sight of ivory’s delicate fingers wrapping around her own, as if they were meant to fit together. even during the toughest nights, when exhaustion clawed at her, jennie would look down at her daughter and see perfection—the way ivory’s lashes fluttered softly as she finally drifted to sleep, or the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest, filling jennie’s heart with a warmth that made every sleepless night worth it.

yet, amidst the laughter and joy, there lingered an undeniable weight in jennie's heart. she missed so much—missed first steps and the excitement of new words, the way ivory would proudly show her the drawings made in preschool, her fingers smudged with paint. with every missed moment, a piece of jennie’s soul felt like it was slipping away, replaced by guilt and longing.

but every time ivory saw her, she would run with open arms, too innocent to understand the world of obligations and the pressures that pulled her mother away. “mommy!” ivory would cry out, her voice bright as sunlight, wrapping her little arms around jennie’s waist. those moments made jennie’s heart swell, yet the ache of missed opportunities would linger like a shadow.

how could her little girl forgive her for being absent during so many pivotal moments? how could she bear the thought of her daughter feeling alone when all she wanted was her mother close by? would she hate her when she was older?

however, despite it all, jennie would never forget the way ivory had changed her, even if she couldn't see it yet for herself. because it wasn’t just her experience and the industry that shaped her.

it was also ivory.

and though i burn how could i fall?

when i am lifted by every word you say to me

jennie remembered the day her daughter saved her life.

it was the darkest time of her life, the media tearing every piece of her limb from limb. she had done her best, she had tried to kill them with kindness, but her mind had suffered far too much. each headline was a knife, each article a reminder of her failures, her struggles, the weight of expectations pressing down on her.

it was late one evening, and the rain had poured down in sheets, mirroring the turmoil in her heart. she had found herself standing on the edge of the balcony, feeling the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. the city sprawled beneath her, a maze of lights that felt as distant as her hopes. the thought of jumping had crossed her mind—a moment of reckless abandon that almost felt liberating.

she hated falling, but maybe this time it would be freeing.

droplets of water soaked through her clothes, clinging to her shivering body. whether she shook from fear, the cold, or from crying, she couldn't tell. all she knew was that she was exhausted. she was tired of feeling like this. it would be so easy, so quick to just end it all. her members would be fine, the company wouldn’t suffer much of a loss. her mother would grieve and move on, and her daughter would be taken care of regardless. jennie was a bad idol, a bad person, and a bad mother. there was nothing left for her to try and be good at anymore. a lull of thunder groaned in the distance, the rain not letting up one bit. jennie’s clothes still hung off her form like wet rags, her body just as numb as her mind. with a deep breath, she made her decision. she took one step forward, than another, and then she was at the edge of the railing. her hands gripped the wet metal bar, feeling how easy her grip slipped. they could make it look like an accident. it would be a bit easier to digest for people that way.

but just as jennie prepared to let go of her anguish, a bright, cheerful voice broke through the raging storm outside and inside her mind.

“found you!”

startled, jennie turned slowly, her heart racing as she caught sight of a small figure emerging from the curtains of the doorway leading to the balcony. ivory, only five years old, stood there, beginning to become wet from the rain, her cheeks flushed with excitement. she was soaking wet but beaming, her eyes the same as her mother’s beaming with innocence.

“ivory,” jennie’s voice trembled as she stepped away from the edge, her heart pounding not just from fear but perhaps relief as well. “what are you doing out here?” she whispered, trying to comprehend how her daughter had found her. jieun had been sending the small girl home from school with a personal driver.

but this was jennie’s house, not her mother’s. that could only mean ivory had asked the driver to take her home to her, not to jieun.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at ivory, the little girl’s presence pulling her back from the precipice of despair. the warmth radiating from her daughter felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the chaotic storm of her emotions.

“i found you!” the girl repeated with glee, the innocence in her tone cutting through the weight of jennie’s sorrow. in that moment, the world outside faded, and all she could see was her daughter—the embodiment of everything she loved, everything worth fighting for.

but as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the crushing weight of jennie’s anguish. tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over as she dropped to her knees, unable to hold back the flood any longer. the sheer relief of seeing ivory, of having her here and safe, overwhelmed her senses.

“valentine,” jennie choked out, her voice trembling as she fell to her knees and pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace. she clutched the small girl tightly, burying her face in the soft fabric of her daughter’s damp clothes, feeling the warmth of her small body against her own. “oh, my sweet girl,” she sobbed, the tears flowing freely now, each one a testament to the fear she had felt just moments before.

jane wrapped her tiny arms around jennie’s neck, the innocence in her embrace radiating a comfort that began to mend the pieces of jennie’s shattered heart. “i thought you were hiding from me!” ivory exclaimed, her voice still light, filled with the joy of the game.

“i’m here, sweetheart,” the idol admitted, her heart aching as she held her daughter closer. the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little, but the fear remained, echoing in the back of her mind. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

ivory tilted her head, her brows furrowing with confusion. “why are you crying, mommy?” the young girl asked, her dark pigtails soaking with water and her face covered in droplets that reflected light like diamonds.

jennie felt a rush of conflicting emotions. her heart swelled with love, yet the fear of losing her daughter loomed like a dark cloud. “i’m just scared,” she whispered in reply, doing her best to try and not cry even more in front of her daughter.

but all the little girl did was smile up at her mother, the rain not causing her emotions to falter. “but i'm here, you don't have to be scared.” she pulled the idol in closer, and jennie never cried harder in her life.

if anything could fall at all, it's the world

that falls away from me

it had been two weeks since the incident happened and jennie had been fighting tooth and nail with her lawyers to sue those who dragged her daughter in the headlines. she didn’t care what they said about her. the idol didn’t care what they called her, or what they thought of her. all that mattered was ivory—all that had ever mattered was ivory.

the thought of her daughter’s name being dragged through the mud ignited a fire within jennie, one that eclipsed her own anguish. she was ready to battle, ready to shield her child from the cruel world outside, a world that had become increasingly invasive and toxic. the whispers of judgment and disdain only fueled her determination.

no amount of scrutiny or scandal could diminish her devotion as a mother.

at night, she would lie awake, her mind racing with the words she would throw at the media, the statements her lawyers would issue. she replayed the interviews, the snippets of hurtful commentary, the careless remarks that had turned ivory into fodder for sensational headlines. it made her sick to think that people could be so cruel, so callous about a child who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

during the days, she stayed busy, ensuring that every detail was managed, every angle covered. meetings, phone calls, legal documents—they all became her lifeline, a distraction from the gnawing worry that threatened to consume her. she felt like a warrior, fighting against an army of nameless faces and faceless voices, all bent on destroying the one thing that mattered most to her.

but in the quiet moments, when the chaos of the day settled, the weight of it all would come crashing down. in those stillness-filled nights, she couldn’t help but wonder how ivory was coping with the backlash. was she scared? confused? had she eaten?

“we need a statement from you,” her manager hesitantly brought up during their next meeting. “you haven’t confirmed your relationship to her yet. i think it is best if you say something officially.”

jennie felt a surge of frustration rise within her, an emotion too powerful to suppress. she stood in the dimly lit conference room, the soft hum of fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on the glossy table that reflected her tense expression. dressed in a tailored black blazer that hugged her form and paired with fitted trousers, she exuded an air of professionalism, yet the sharp edges of her attire did little to mask the storm brewing within her.

“no.” the word sliced through the air, sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care. “this isn’t about me. it’s about ivory. i won’t put her in front of cameras until she’s ready. if she wants to make a statement, that’s her call.”

her manager frowned, shifting uneasily in his chair, the weight of their conversation heavy between them. he adjusted his tie, a nervous habit she’d come to recognize. “but the media won’t wait. the speculation is damaging. we need to control the narrative.”

“control?” she scoffed, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. the room felt constricting, the walls closing in as she thought about the tabloids ripping apart her daughter's innocence. “what control do we really have? we’re dealing with people who don’t care about the truth—only the drama. i won’t pressure her into speaking before she’s ready.”

she took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where rain streaked down like tears on glass. the dreary weather outside matched her mood, but she steeled herself, focusing on the task at hand. “i want to protect her innocence. if the girl chooses to speak, i’ll support her. but this decision has to come from her—not us. i won’t let them twist her words.”

silence enveloped the room, heavy with tension, as her manager hesitated, contemplating the implications of her words. “but jennie—”

“no,” she interrupted, her voice firm and unwavering, echoing off the stark walls. “i won’t make a statement without her consent. she’s been through enough. i want her to know she controls her narrative.”

her manager sighed, recognizing the resolve in her eyes—the fierce determination that set her apart from the fleeting glances of the world outside. “alright, but we need to prepare for the backlash.”

“let them come,” the idol replied without missing a beat, her voice steadying as a flicker of maternal instinct surged within her. “i’ll take whatever hits they throw. as long as none of them hit ivory.”

you have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath

jane had always been jennie’s strength. in her highest highs and her lowest lows, her daughter was always her anchor. each milestone in her career, every award and fashion show, was often celebrated with ivory in mind. every time jennie was whisked away for a new brand ambassadorship or invited to walk the runway, she meticulously picked out souvenirs that reminded her of the little girl waiting at home.

the delicate silk scarves from paris, the glittering hairpins from milan, the brightly colored baubles from tokyo—each item was a token of love, meant to fill the void of her absence. but soon, jennie started to notice a disheartening change. the excitement in ivory’s eyes dulled with each new gift, her small hands less eager to unwrap the carefully packaged tokens.

when the idol had moved into her own house, the distance between them became painfully clear. the new home was supposed to be a fresh start, a sanctuary filled with light and dreams. yet, as she unpacked boxes in the empty living room, reality settled heavily on her chest—ivory wasn’t going to be coming with her. her daughter would remain with jieun, it was safer that way. but even she knew it wasn’t just about safety, she had used that excuse too many times to believe it.

the day she officially moved out was the day everything changed.

as she stood in her new kitchen, surrounded by gleaming appliances and fresh paint, the echo of ivory’s sharp voice felt like a distant memory. that morning, jennie had sat down and explained to her daughter what was going to happen. jane was only 8 at the time, and she was already becoming extremely aware of the absence of her mother.

it was also when the small girl began to stop calling her “mom.”

“why don’t you want to be with me?” jane had asked bluntly, small hands balled into fists as she watched her mother taping another box shut. the innocence in her eyes pierced through jennie’s heart like a dagger. it was a simple question, but the weight of it felt insurmountable.

“i do want to be with you, sweetheart,” the idol replied, forcing a smile that felt strained and hollow. “but this is what’s best for both of us right now. you’ll be safe with grandma, and i’ll be here working hard so i can give you all the nice things you deserve.”

“but i don’t want things,” the small brunette insisted, her voice rising with frustration. “i want you.”

the sharpness of the truth stung like cold water, and in that moment, jennie felt the walls she had built around herself begin to crack. she wanted to scream that she wished she could be with her every moment, but the words died on her lips. instead, she knelt down to her daughter’s level, trying to steady her trembling hands as she brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her forehead.

“i know it’s hard, but i promise, we’ll make this work. i’ll visit you all the time, and we can have fun together. we can make new memories.” the rehearsed phrases felt empty in the air between them, but she hoped they would comfort the little girl.

but even jennie knew her daughter had heard those empty promises too many times.

ivory’s eyes, devoid of any real emotion, searched her mother’s face for reassurance, but instead, they found uncertainty. the moment hung heavy, and as ivory blinked back her tears, jennie realized just how fragile their bond had become.

“i don’t believe you,” ivory finally whispered, her voice small but fierce. but as jennie watched her turn away, something deep within her cracked open, and the reality of her choices loomed larger than ever.

and she finally realized that her daughter was slowly slipping away from her.

once i had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

but i can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

each of the pinks had taken turns coming over, but tonight, it was just rosé sitting across from jennie. the glow of the candles flickered softly on the coffee table, casting dancing shadows against the walls of the stylish parisian apartment. the faint scent of vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of the bustling city outside, a stark reminder of the world that felt both close and distant.

“what’s she like?” rosie asked gently, her tone laced with genuine curiosity as she observed jennie’s hunched figure on the plush couch, wrapped in an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole. it was a cozy look, a comforting barrier against the chill of the night.

jennie’s gaze drifted to the candles, the flames reflecting the turmoil in her heart. there were so many words to describe her, and yet none of them were fitting enough. ivory was and always would be indescribable. “she’s everything.” the older girl whispered, trying to piece together her words. “she’s like poetry i’ll never fully understand. sometimes she’s the softest verse, the kind that makes you feel warm without realizing it, and other times she’s like the sharpest line, the one that cuts right through you.”

ivory had always been a melody jennie couldn’t stop humming. even when the world was too loud, when the pressures of fame felt like they were closing in, it was her daughter who reminded her what really mattered. how ironic was it? that the person who was her entire world was also the one holding it up. jennie had always known that getting to the top came at the expense of being there for ivory. she had built her empire on sacrifices, and the largest one was her absence from the moments that should have mattered most. each red carpet, each endorsement, each sold-out arena—they were the milestones of her career, but they were also the milestones of ivory’s quiet solitude.

it was upon her daughter’s small, unsteady shoulders that jennie’s world sat. the weight of it all pressed down on the girl, and jennie had given her the world and left ivory alone to hold it up.

leave it now, i am sky-bound

if you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

jennie didn’t know how many times she had called her daughter over the past weeks. ivory was eighteen now, legally an adult, but she would always be jennie’s little girl, no matter how much time passed. and that made it worse—because jennie knew her daughter was still too young to bear the weight of everything being thrown at her.

every unanswered call felt like another crack in the fragile bond between them. she had seen her daughter grow into this fiercely independent young woman, strong and capable, but jennie couldn’t shake the sense that she was crumbling beneath the pressure. the media, relentless as always, had turned their full attention to ivory. speculation, rumors, accusations—all aimed at her daughter, dissecting her life in the cruelest of ways.

jennie had faced that kind of scrutiny before; it came with the territory of being a global icon. but this was different. this was ivory, and jennie had no control over it. no way to protect her. all she could do was wait, hoping—praying—that her daughter would reach out.

the silence was suffocating. she had sent dozens of messages, her fingers flying across the screen in moments of desperation. ivory didn’t respond. not to her, not to jieun. her daughter was mia—not physically, they knew she was safe somewhere—but emotionally, she was unreachable. the longer the silence stretched on, the more jennie’s worry turned to fear.

what was she thinking? how was she handling the constant barrage of headlines, the ruthless commentary from strangers who had no idea what her life was really like? was she struggling alone, feeling abandoned? the thought of her daughter enduring all of this on her own made jennie feel physically sick. she had built her career on being strong, untouchable, but nothing could prepare her for the helplessness she felt now.

late at night, the older woman would find herself staring at her phone, willing it to light up with a message from ivory. she couldn’t sleep, her mind running through all the worst-case scenarios. what if ivory didn’t want to speak to her anymore? what if this silence was her way of pushing jennie out for good? it was a thought that haunted her, even though she didn’t want to believe it.

jennie had always been the one in control—the one with the answers, the one who made decisions. but now, she was at the mercy of her daughter’s silence. all she could do was wait, and it was tearing her apart.

we'll float away, but if we fall

i only pray, don't fall away from me

“have you talked to her?” the idol whispered aimlessly, leaning against the sofa cushion with her head propped on her elbow. jieun glanced over her shoulder, staring at her daughter. the older woman’s gaze softened as she took in jennie’s tired form, slouched on the sofa, her face half-hidden in the dim light. jennie looked like a shadow of herself—hollow-eyed, her usual resilience cracked and exposed, like glass splintered under the weight of her worry. she wasn’t the jennie kim that everyone knew—the one who faced cameras with a certain glint in her eye, who made the world bend to her will.

no, this was someone far different—this was a mother, unraveling at the seams of her sanity.

jieun sighed softly, crossing the room with measured steps, each footfall silent against the plush carpet. she’d watched jennie navigate the peaks and valleys of fame, but never had she seen her like this. this wasn’t the guarded idol, the woman who could withstand scrutiny and judgment with a steely front. jennie was exposed, raw, with her vulnerability wrapped around her like a second skin.

“she’s safe,” jieun said gently, kneeling down beside the sofa, her voice as calm as she could manage. “you know she’s safe.”

jennie’s lips tightened as she looked away, her eyes lingering on her phone as if expecting it to vibrate at any second. she lost count of how many times she had kept checking her phone throughout the days. it was not completely out of her daughter’s character to be radio silent, but this type of silence felt far more dangerous. it was the kind of quiet that echoed loudly in her maternal mind, amplifying every worry and fear she tried to suppress.

“but she’s alone,” she murmured, voice thin and cracked. “again.” her biggest regret as a mother was being absent for so long in her daughter’s life. it was a regret that gnawed at her like a relentless hunger, an ache that twisted and turned, reminding her of every moment lost.

the idol knew her mother would only understand somewhat, given she did help raise the girl in her absence. but jennie was her mother. ivory was hers. what if this silence meant something more? what if it signified that jane was falling away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand?

the rain pounded against the window, a steady rhythm that mirrored jennie’s racing heartbeat. outside, the world was drenched, streets shimmering with reflections of streetlights and the distant glow of the city. it was beautiful but also haunting, reminding her of every moment she had taken for granted—every hug, every laugh, every late-night conversation that now felt like a lifetime ago.

jennie’s voice was barely a whisper, more to herself than to her mother.

“i just wish she would come home.”

i do not have wings, love, i never will

soarin' over a world you are carryin'

jennie remembered the last time her daughter called her “mom.”

she was in la for a quick trip with her members, the sun dipping low in the sky and painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink. laughter echoed around her as they wandered through the bustling streets of venice beach, the salty air mingling with the scent of fried food from nearby stands. she and her members were meant to be celebrating, living in the moment, but all jennie could think about was how far she was from her daughter.

as they strolled along the boardwalk, her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from the moment. she pulled it out, her heart racing at the sight of ivory’s name flashing on the screen. but just as quickly, the excitement turned to dread; she hesitated, caught between the urge to answer and the noise of her friends. the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it all felt so vibrant, so alive, and yet, it felt hollow without her daughter accompanying it.

finally, she silenced the phone, promising herself she would call her back in a minute. yet, in that minute, the moment turned into hours. the sun sank beneath the horizon, and by the time jennie returned to her hotel room, the buzzing of her phone had stopped. she pulled it out again, her heart heavy, and saw a voicemail notification blinking at her. she didn’t need to listen to know what it was—a stab of guilt pierced her heart.

after she settled onto the plush hotel bed, she pressed play, her stomach twisting as ivory’s familiar voice filled the room.

“hi,” ivory’s tone was soft, almost shy, like she was uncertain of how to navigate this unspoken chasm that had grown between them. “i don’t really know why i’m calling.” jennie felt a lump in her throat as she listened. this wasn’t the vibrant teenager she usually heard, full of life and excitement; this was a girl grappling with the shadows of her mother’s absence. there was a pause, the silence on the line heavy and stretching on as if ivory was wrestling with words that refused to come.

ivory spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared saying it too loudly might shatter whatever fragile hope she held.

“i miss you,” she murmured. “i mean, i know you’re busy. and i know it’s important… but i just” her words trailed off, dissolving into silence once more. there was a rawness in her voice, a longing that felt like it had been buried for too long, like it had clawed its way up from deep inside her, desperate to be heard. “i did something today. um…”

another beat of silence passed by before the younger girl let out a muffled chuckle, and the unmistakable sound of a sniffle.

“i don’t know what i’m saying.” jane added, her vulnerability in her voice hitting jennie like a punch to the gut. “i’m sorry for bothering you. have fun, mom.” the voicemail ended with a soft click, leaving jennie sitting in stunned silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

later on, she would find out from jieun that was the day her daughter had gotten into hybe. and once again, jennie was halfway across the world for it.

jennie remembered the way she went to the bathroom and sobbed on the edge of the tub, fighting the urge to throw up. everything she had worked for, everything she’d sacrificed—it all felt so hollow in that moment, sitting on the cold tile floor of some high rise hotel in the city of angels.

what kind of mother was she?

the thought echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. jennie gripped the edge of the tub as if it could anchor her, her fingers shades of her daughter’s name with the effort to keep herself steady. she had spent years building an image, carving a path to success and fame, but now, all of it felt like dust slipping through her fingers. she was idolized by millions, praised for her talent, but in the one role that mattered most, she felt like a stranger.

her daughter had achieved something extraordinary, something she would have been so proud of—and jennie hadn’t even been there to pick up the phone, let alone celebrate. she could only imagine ivory standing alone, phone pressed to her ear, hoping to hear her mother’s voice, only to be met with silence.

she’d missed it. she’d missed everything.

jennie’s vision blurred with fresh tears, and she buried her face in her hands, biting back a sob. she could picture every missed moment, every time she’d told ivory she’d make it up to her, every night she’d kissed her through a screen, promising it was only temporary. but her baby girl had grown up in the gaps jennie had left, filling in the spaces with memories jennie would never share.

if these heights should bring my fall

let me be your own

icarian carrion

part of jennie always knew she wasn’t invincible. she could conquer stages, face the world’s scrutiny, but when it came to protecting jane, she felt utterly powerless. it was a thought that twisted in her gut, reminding her that no matter how much she wanted to shield her daughter from the storm, she was just one woman against an unforgiving world. still, the fierce love she held for ivory ignited a fire within her.

she would die trying to keep her daughter safe, even if it meant battling the very system that had once elevated her to the highest heights.

the idol leaned back in the plush leather seat of the car, her eyes vacant as she stared out at the blurred lights of the city. the soft hum of the engine was drowned out by the relentless patter of the rain, but it was a comfort compared to the storm brewing in her heart. just as she closed her eyes to escape her thoughts, her phone buzzed insistently in her lap.

she glanced down, the dim light illuminating the screen, and her breath hitched in her throat. the headlines pierced through the fog of her despair.

"IVORY DENIES ANY RELATION TO RUMORED MOTHER, JENNIE."

“LE SSEREAFIM MEMBER IVORY DENIES FAMILY TIES WITH BLACKPINK’S JENNIE.”

“JENNIE KIM—NOT A MOTHER AFTER ALL?”

jennie couldn’t believe the words she was reading. she read the different headlines over and over, trying to understand what was happening right now. her heart sank even further as she read the quote beneath one of them:

“in a recent statement, ivory kim has publicly denied any familial ties to the renowned idol jennie, stating, ‘i am my own person and have nothing to do with her public image or lifestyle.’”

a bitter chill coursed through her veins as the weight of those words settled in. the world was watching, and her daughter was choosing to distance herself from her mother. it felt like an emotional dagger, the kind that twisted and turned, severing the bonds they had fought so hard to forge.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

“why would you say that?” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. the denial felt like a rejection of everything they had built together, a painful erasure of their connection. she quickly checked her recent call history, tapping on her daughter’s name once again for the nth time. the idol fought the urge to scream when she heard the dial tone go immediately to voicemail. just then, the driver turned onto a familiar street, the sleek glass building of her office looming ahead. the car slowed, and jennie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and determination. the sleek façade of her workplace, usually a source of pride, now felt like a battleground, a place where she would have to face the raging storm outside.

as the car came to a stop, she could hear the distant shouts and the clicking of cameras, the cacophony of the paparazzi waiting to pounce on her the moment she stepped outside. she felt sick. she wanted to tell the driver to turn around and drive straight to the hybe building. but she couldn’t.

with a heavy sigh, she adjusted her sunglasses, the dark designer lenses serving as a shield against the world. she took a moment to gather her thoughts, feeling the weight of her daughter’s words pressing down on her chest. she quickly wiped the corners of her eyes with the ends of her sleeves before steeling herself for the hell awaiting her.

taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and stepped out into the pouring rain. the cold droplets hit her like a thousand tiny needles, but she welcomed the sensation, using it to mask the tears threatening to escape. she could feel the cameras flashing, the questions being shouted, but all she could think about was ivory.

“jennie! what do you have to say about ivory’s statement?” one reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in her direction.

"did you pay her to say that?” another voice rang out, sharper than the rest, slicing through the crowd's cacophony and echoing in jennie's mind like a jagged wound being reopened. "where is your official statement?" someone else demanded, and the barrage of voices grew relentless, questions stabbing through the heavy rain, flashes sparking like bursts of lightning even through her tinted lenses.

the idol’s fingers curled into fists as she fought back the impulse to scream, to plead with them to understand that this was more than just a story to her. her skin felt raw, scraped by the flashing cameras and the biting cold, as if each shout and accusation stripped another layer from her, laying bare the ache she tried so hard to hide. but she couldn’t break down here—not in front of the world, not with ivory's fragile truth hanging between them, vulnerable to this voracious hunger for scandal.

she swallowed hard, pushing the tears down, forcing herself to lift her chin. each step she took toward the building was heavy, as though she were dragging the weight of her guilt and grief alongside her. it felt like walking through a storm without shelter, the rain mingling with her tears, each ounce of water a reminder of the distance that had grown between her and her daughter—a distance she’d allowed to widen.

ivory’s innocence, her future, was on the line, and jennie would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant facing this battle alone. she could bear the cruelty, the invasion, the unyielding scrutiny if it meant her daughter didn’t have to. this was her responsibility. her burden. and if it came to it, jennie would willingly take every accusation, every whispered insult, if it meant jane could live without this shadow hanging over her.

she had no delusions about the battle ahead, but she would face it—she would endure every cost, every scar, if it meant shielding ivory from this storm. even if it destroyed her, jennie would be her daughter’s armor, her shield.

even if it meant her daughter denied her as a mother, the same way jennie had done for years, she would still keep trying. she would always be a mother, no matter what.

and if that meant she had to fight until there was nothing left of her, then so be it. she’d die trying.

if i should fall, on that day

i only pray, don't fall away from me

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year ago

Text

you go back to the old house, but you've been locked out

jacaerys velaryon/strong x fem!reader (modern!au)

summary: when your boyfriend finds out that you have never celebrated christmas before, he invites you to have your first with his family.

warnings: *do not read if you have any of the triggers* artist!reader, poc coded reader, depictions of mental illnesses, domestic abuse, physical abuse, mentions of suicide attempts, mentions of ED, mostly fluff, NSFW (SMUT! MINORS DNI!!), blackcat!reader and goldenretriever!jace, only rhaenyra's children with harwin exists in this au, title and fic inspired by There must be more than blood by Car Seat Headrest.

wc: 17.4K

a/n: this is for my babies who think they're unlovable of some sort, you are not too much or not enough, and you are completely lovable and you will find the rght kind of love for you one day.

When you first told Jacaerys that you have never actually celebrated Christmas before, you didn't think it would pull out such an intense reaction.

You've been dating him for about 4 months now, the two of you agreed to take things slow under your request, but by this point, you both have grown comfortable enough around each other to move forwards past the small talk stage.

And it is in these moments that you genuinely wonder if all the new small details and information about yourself that you had initially held from him before would cause any issues within the relationship. For example, the fact that you've never celebrated Christmas, or how you have an antipathy for your birthday and double dates. You also don't believe in celebrating annual anniversaries.

In the second month of your relationship with Jace, you discovered how important anniversaries were to him and it was an honestly amusing idea to you. But after you noticed how disappointed he was to find out that you didn't care for the special day, you decided to let his predilection for it prevail.

Plus it was just like having an extra special date every month that you didn't have to pay for, what's the harm in that?

Upon finding out that Christmas was a foreign concept to you, he asks you if it was a religion thing at first. You weren't particularly religious, nor are you against it in any way, then he asked you if it had anything to do with the whitewashing of Jesus Christ. You laughed until you realized he was serious.

"No, it's nothing to do with the whitewashing of Jesus of Nazareth." He raised a brow in suspicion. "Are you sure? Cause if it is then I fully support you." You smiled and him and shook your head in assurance. "I've just never celebrated it for some reason."

"But why?" He asked again, pushing for a good answer. Jace loved christmas, that one was easy to tell. You're just not sure if it's because he had strong family values and loved spending time with his family or because he really loved gifts and knew that he'd get good ones every year thanks to the fact that he is rich.

"My family never celebrated christmas, so I never did." You answered decisively. "Are they superstitious or something?" You replied no. "I guess my parents just didn't see what good it can do besides making a waste of money." Your financial situation was a touchy topic, you could see him leaving it at that, ending the interrogation. "So what'll you do on this 30th?" He asks instead.

"What I always do, stay at my apartment, maybe go on a shopping trip with all the Christmas discounts." His eyes widen in horror as if you've just told him that you had killed a man. "You're spending Christmas alone?" You could laugh at his worry if you didn't think that it would hurt his feelings. "Well, my roommate is flying back to her hometown."

"So, why don't you fly back home too? It's not just christmas, the semester break is over 2 weeks." You shrugged and went over some excuses in your head before settling for one. "Believe me, they'd rather I stay here and focus on my studies. There'd be no point anyway, since you know, I don't celebrate Christmas." His lips thinned as he analyzes you in the most obvious way possible, making you groan internally in your head.

Jace was a problem solver. You learned that very quick into your relationship.

He always tries to make the best out of every condition he's put into. And you can tell how much the idea of you being alone for two weeks bugged him. "Two weeks flies faster than you'll realize, I'm telling you Jace, I'm used to this." Oh that wouldn't cut it for him. "What if you came home with me?"

You blinked at him in confusion, his words registering very slowly. "No." You say the first thing you thought of.

His mouth makes an O shape in offense. "Why not?" You rolled your eyes. "You ask that question a lot." "If you answer me for real this time, I won't ask you that again for at least 5 days." You fought back a smile. "Fine. Because it's weird." He frowned. "No it's not, why would it be?"

"Because I've never met your family before, Jace." He shrugged in a careless manner. "Well, there's no time more perfect than Christmas."

Everything is so easy with you, you thought to yourself. Sometimes you wondered if he has ever been caught up in the anxiety of things possibly not going his way for at least once in his life. You weren't bitter, it's genuine curiosity. Jacaerys looked like the type of person who has never been afraid to take a chance with new and risky opportunities. One of them being you. He is either very lucky or very positive. Which in the case of him being incredibly privileged, both.

You took a deep breath before settling your back against the plush of the cushion of your hallway. He understood the indescribable look you gave him and leaned in to place his hands on your shoulder.

"My mom has wanted to see you for ages, there's nothing to be nervous about, I swear." You cocked your head at him. "You've already told your mom about me?" He grinned. "Yeah, she thinks you're pretty. "

Your eyes widened. "You showed her my picture?" He nodded. Oh well, this was inevitable, you told yourself. Really, can you even blame him? Every course of action he has taken so far has only proved himself to be as good as you figured he was from the moment you two met each other. Well at least his mom thinks I'm pretty.

It wasn't that you hated people or disliked socializing so much, moreso that it was just state of normalcy for you. You have friends of course, and you talk to other people, but up until you met Jace, all the other people in your life have always been viewed as a convenience. Association by luck and not exactly a friendship grounded by any sort of deep connection or intimacy.

You gave up trying to pursue or look for that kind of relationship a long time ago. And just when you expected it the least, Jacaerys came into your life and somehow managed to become an intregal part of it. 4 months later, you wonder if it's too early for you to confess that you're unable to really remember your life before him.

You let out a sigh, letting him pull you closer. "Is it not too fast? If this is because you don't like me staying alone, I swear I'm used to it." He didn't say anything at first and only embraced you with his chin resting over your head.

He was either thinking deeply about whatever you just said or he's waiting for you to give in. "2 weeks is a long time, I wouldn't even want to be around my family for 2 weeks." You say, trying to get him to relent.

"We leave on the second week of the break then. We could stay here for the first." It wasn't a bad suggestion, and you know it's not fair to him for you to be holding up all the cards. He deserves to have a say in certain things, and one week with his family sounded like a good compromise.

"I'll think about it." You told him at last. And by the look of his face, he knows he has won. He lowers his head down to kiss you, and you welcome it with ardor.

—

You first met Jacaerys 6 months ago at a frat party. Your project partner Cregan had invited you over, even knowing that oarties were never really your thing. But you were having a bad day and thought, why not?

On your way to the bathroom, you bumped into him. The two of you walked in opposite ways right onto each other. He apologized profusely and had taken your abrasive wave off hand as you made your way to the bathroom as a sign that you were offended. So he waited until you were done peeing so he could apologize again.

You were 5 drinks in dazed and confused, not exactly drunk but not really sober. You figured he probably wanted to hook up because who the hell apologizes this much for bumping into someone. So you glared at him and told him to fuck off.

You never saw him again for the rest of the party. But about 30 minutes later, you decided you were done with the badly remixed disco music and alcohol that tastes like fruit punch and wanted to return to your apartment. You weren't staying in dorms since you managed to rent a place nearby with another girl who was studying at the university too. And although it was much further from campus compared to the dorms, it was considered a walking distance.

How lucky you were that he ended up driving by the road you took walking home. You were prepared to flip him off when he turned his window down, asking if you needed a ride. But once you slowed down to actually look at him, you noticed a certain kind of sincerity in his eyes and gave in.

It wasn't often that you get to meet people who were kind for the sake of being kind. Most people are leeches. But not him.

Neither of you said anything throughout the whole ride except when you thanked him before getting off the car. You didn't think you'd ever see him again after that night. But like fated ropes intertwining, he was the first person you saw in your lecture the next day.

He waved at you from the back seat. You stared at him with squinting eyes to make sure it was the right person before you went back to ignoring him. He ended up moving his seat to the front more and more everytime the two of you had the class again, until 2 weeks in, he finally seated himself next to you. "Are you always this persistently annoying?" You had asked him then. "Only with the ones I like" It was stupid, and cliche and most disgustingly, cute.

And so with every encounter, you began to let your guard down and allow the relationship to naturally take it's own course. 2 months later, you officially started dating one of the most fawned over boys on campus.

Its 6.30am on a Sunday as you jog through the quiet streets behind your apartment building. You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, the heat turning your face red. 30 minutes from now, the roads will begin to flood with people walking to work or going on their own daily run. You know this because you've lived here for 3 years now.

When you decided to study at King's Landing University knowing it'll cost an expensive 3 hour flight for every time you'd want to go back home, it was an obvious decision both to yourself and to your family that you weren't really planning on coming back at all.

For all of 3 years you've been studying here, you had only flown back twice. And neither of those times felt worth the money you paid them for.

If this house suffocates you so badly, we'll see how far you'll survive out there all alone. Your mother had said to you 3 days before you went to college for your first year.

You had proved her wrong with your resilience, but at what cost? Your younger sister doesn't remember how you look like, and your older brother still takes every opportunity presented to him to try and belittle you every time the two of you meet.

Your father was ignorant, uncaring. And your mother? She loves you so much, with every bitter insult she throws your way and every provocation she purposely does just to get a reaction.

When you were 13 years old, she had told you to swing yourself off the highest building in response to you accidentally breaking her favourite plate. And at 16, she found herself crying by your bedside after your failed overdose attempt. At 18, she had spat on your face and announced that for as long as she lived, you would never know a life free of guilt and pain without her blessing as a mother.

At 19, The two of you hugged each other for the last time forever before you decided to never look back at that old haunted house.

You slowed down the pace of your jog, interchanging it with casual walking as you take in the sight of the rising sun. How many times have you walked these dewy streets that smelled like trees and dried rain? Too many to count. And yet, as much as you had tried to make a home out of this place, the isolating feeling that surrounded you daily was persistent.

It was the tiny voice in the back of your head saying, don't forget, these people aren't your people, and the face you put on every day that you're here isn't your own.

Loneliness was a kind of misery, but the hollow reassurance and comfort that came with proving yourself right every time a friend leaves you, or a man you thought was interested in you doesn't stay for the night, seemed to be the only constant thing in your life. That was until you met Jacaerys, of course.

You pause the music being played through your earphones, stretching your neck right after and deciding that you're ready to go home.

The flight to Dragonstone was in 3 days and you haven't really began packing. How much stuff did you need for a one week trip anyways? It was one of those moments that made you too anxious to do anything which ends up making you feel even more anxious because you haven't done anything. You do a turnaround and start walking back to your place as you reshuffle your morning playlist. A text from Jace pops up as your phone dings;

J: want 2 get breakfast in 20?

You swiped your phone open as you keep walking on a medium pace, replying with a quick OK.

It was a routine the two of you have build for over 2 months now, you'll do your 40 minutes morning jog and he'll be outside your building just in time for you to be done with your shower, eager to get some breakfast.

You're grateful for his company, it had become something you looked forward for daily. And for someone who has went through a fair share of disappointments, you really hope that this one would work out.

Anxiety plagued your thoughts as you rethink the idea of meeting his family for Christmas, what if they all thought you looked different than your photos? What if you say the wrong things or make the wrong joke and they think you're indecent? What if you say nothing and they all think you're boring?

The walk back home tired you enough to forget about those questions momentarily, but being given enough time to overthink once you reached your apartment and jumped into the shower, you figured you'd talk this out with Jace later.

He would probably just end up saying something sweet and useless like 'don't worry, just be yourself', but it's better than nothing.

The mirror becomes your worst enemy this morning, Fill in The Blank is playing from your phone as you stare at your dead eyes and immortalized eyebags. The only thing staring back at you is a reflection of a tired child. To grow up in a constant state of pain and to still be scared and hurting even after the war has ended was an everyday battle.

Because in your head, and even when you're sleeping, the war replays itself until you're worn out from it. You constantly remind yourself that you are now free, but sometimes the memory of it feels so alive that you end up making a prison of yourself despite the falseness of the alarm going off in your head.

Slipping a black t-shirt over your head while you make an estimation of how long it would take Jace to get here, you also let your mind stray for a bit, wondering if it all would've been easier if you were someone else. If Jace had dated someone else.

Maybe, maybe not. It didn't matter, because in the end you were still you, and you've only got yourself to work with.

You were drying your hair when you received another text from Jace saying taht he had arrived. Turning off the hair dryer, you sent a quick text back telling him that you were still getting ready and that the extra key was under the mat outside your door.

You could hear the front door click open 5 minutes later as you're finally done getting ready.

Exiting your room, you found him waiting by the kitchen, helping himself on some oreos that you just bought yesterday.

"I hope you're planning on paying me back for those cookies." You joked from the hall as you pulled out your hoodie from the coat hanger, slinging it over your shoulder. "I'll be paying you with my wonderful presence." He retorted back.

Once you found your purse, the two of you finally left the house to get some real food. After a few rounds of suggestions, you opted for a nearby cafe for some pancakes, though Jace ended up ordering some waffles instead.

The whole place was very secluded and smaller compared to the other cafes and diners in the area, but the meals were good and they were cheaper than the others too. You felt beyond lucky when you realized that it was just you both there in this hour. There were two other girls seated from the opposite of your table, but it was quiet enough to your liking.

"Are you done packing?" Jace asked expectedly. He was increasingly thrilled at the prospect of celebrating Christmas together with his family and his girlfriend. You shook your head no whilst you slurp up your strawberry milkshake.

"I'll start packing this evening." "Don't forget to bring a charger, and socks, because it'll probably be cold by the time we get there- oh, also you need a winter coat, and no slippers, only boots, do you want me to make you a list?" You smiled at him in amusement and answered no.

"I already made a list, I know what to bring, don't worry." He was worried, or maybe that's not the right word. No, he was excitable. "What about your parents?" He asks suddenly, causing you to pause in surprise. "What about my parents?"

He shrugged and inched closer to the table. "Have you told them you're coming with me for the semester break?" You relaxed your face, shrugging off the shocked expression you initially wore. "I don't think it's necessary, even if I wasn't going with you, I still wouldn't be going home either."

"Oh, okay." The silence was ineffable. You could hear a silent question that he didn't dare ask; why?

Your family was a rarely spoken topic in your relationship with him. It was easy to not overthink it at first, but you knew that Jace had noticed how you try your best to never bring them up.

"Plus-" you felt the necessity to add, "-they would probably be against the idea if I did tell them about it." He shares a look of curiosity, expecting you to elaborate. "My parents are kind of a strict." You chose to say. "So, they don't know that we're dating?" You shook your head. "They sound protective of you." He says it so confidently that it made you laugh dryly.

A bitter smile was painted over your face as you kept your eyes on the food. "Controlling, would be a more fitting term."

When you finally looked up to meet his gaze, you could tell there was more he wanted to ask, or comment on, but you weren't in the mood to start explaining your lore to him. Thinking about your family made you nauseous, and you really wanted to eat the pancakes without throwing up. "Believe me, its better this way." You concluded, making sure he won't have room to continue.

"Anyways, aren't you the one who should be briefing me about your family." Jacaerys grinned and seemingly forgot about your earlier conversation immediately. "There's not really much to say, you know my brothers Luc and Joffrey? They're pretty young, little rascals but harmless most of the time." You nodded earnestly, encouraging him to go on.

"My mom and dad are excited to meet you, you have nothing to worry about, I'm honestly more scared that they'll end up preferring you than me."

You snorted at that. "Ah yes, I do have a reputation with old people. Do you think it's my beautiful face?" He pretends to think for a moment before responding, "Well it can't be your charming personality." A laugh burst out of you at his words, causing you to receive a glare from the girls from the other table. You gasped out suddenly, remembering a small detail you've never discussed before. "I should bring gifts right?" A look of realization passes over Jace's face at the same time.

"I mean it's Christmas, I've never done it before, but I know presents are a thing."

Jace was quick to interject, telling you it's no need. "They wouldn't care, our tradition is all about spending time together, presents are just courtesy." He explained.

"Yes well, I should get them gifts as a courtesy then." He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down immediately before he could. "I won't get anything crazy, it's just courtesy like you said." A lot of people might perceive you as nonchalant and uncaring, but the truth was you've always been the person who cares too much until it backfires.And as much as you wished you weren't so desperate to make a good first impression, you do want to, deep in your heart you knew that.

"Okay, fine, if you want to. But you can just get them some keychain or mugs, especially for my brothers, they're already being spoiled enough." You smile gratefully for his cooperation and agree on his terms.

—

One of your favorite terms in the world is the term "white lie." Any lie is excusable if you call it a white lie. It was a form of manipulation that you were used to being given. At first, you implemented it in your life as a way to please other people. A way to become more likeable and less of a burden.

You spent your whole teenage life trying to earn bits and pieces of your mother's love.

No, I'm not mad that you didn't get it for me and only bought one for my brother. Yes, it is my fault that I'm too sensitive and defensive every time we argue. No, I can't remember the last time you ever hit me. Not even the one time from last week when you pulled me by my hair, dragging me to the bathroom and used the water hose on me.

The truth soon became the most dangerous thing in your life. Candor wasn't appreciated in your home. You must watch your mouth and accept what you are given gratefully.

The cycle lasted for years until you turned 16. You had grown strong enough to push her back every time she tried to land a hit on you. Strong enough to know what to say to make it hurt for her too.

The white lies soon turned into a form of protection. No, I wasn't smoking weed under the bleachers after school hours just because it felt safer there than it does in my room. No, I don't know why I'm being written down for failing several subjects consecutively for the whole year, I thought I was doing just fine. No, I know you're doing all of this because you love me.

No, I don't think I can book a flight home for 5 days. I just got a new job, there's too much shit to do.

You stare down at your phone, the unread text stared back at your face.

M: I don't blame you for not wanting to come home, but if you want to, you can.

The only message you've gotten for her for the whole year. Her ego wouldn't force her to plead for her only daughter to come back. So she plays saint and paints you as the girl who grew up too fast and forgot all about home.

I love you, mom. You wanted to say. Love wouldn't be enough.

When was the last time she ever said that she loved you? You can never recall. It definitely wasn't the day before you went to college. No, the night before was spent holding you from behind as the two of you slept in your childhood bed. She had her face in the crook of your neck and you heard her whisper when she thought you were asleep; you were my mirror, and I'm sorry I broke you into pieces just so it'd match my cracks.

She laid with you for a few more minutes before getting up to leave. You cried until dawn and never got a wink of sleep right after.

You expected the newfound freedom to feel exhilarating, but instead, you felt more out of place during the first week at the university than you did at home. It was comical, ironic, how the only pair of hands you wanted to comfort you were the same ones that had beaten bruises on your skin. I miss you, you almost texted her.

Was it still considered a white lie or a form of manipulation if the only person you wanted to trick was yourself? No, I'm not upset that she never called or texted to ask if I've safely landed. No, I never wonder if she regrets everything she's done to me. No, I don't hate her so much sometimes that it could be translated as a child throwing a tantrum just to get their parents to pay attention to her. No, I don't like having one night stands just to know what it's like to be touched without being inflicted with pain.

No, I never wake up from dreams of you loving me the same way you loved your son and consider it a nightmare instead.

But of all times you've dreamt of her, this time you woke up from it with the only person you wanted comfort from, still sleeping next to you. And for the first time since you could remember, it was not your mother.

Your eyes remained on your phone screen, hung up on every word of the message. Glancing once at your boyfriend, you turn back to your phone to switch it off before you move to lay back under the covers.

---

It was 8 days before Christmas. Watching snow fall from the sky was somehow more magical than getting to sit on a first class plane for the first time

You tried to take pictures from above, but the snow didn't look as clear and visible through the phone as it did from your eyes.

You're hands are fully gloved, with your little bunny designed ear muffs that Jace bought for you a few days ago.

"I feel like that thing from Big Hero 6." You told him before leaving. "His name is Baymax, put some respect on it." Was his response before he pinched your cheeks with both hands.

4 hours later, the two of you are strapped in comfortable seats, the cold getting stronger, and you're both grateful for the winter jackets you had on.

"It's so beautiful." You spoke, looking out from the small window. "Yeah, beautiful." When you twisted your neck to look at him, he was already staring at you. "What?" You asked. He shrugged, face blank. "Nothing."

Neither of you broke eye contact. Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what has trying to tell you. He blinked. You were gonna ask what again until it hit you. "Jace, no."

"I didn't even say anything." He whined, defending himself. "We're not having sex on a plane." "See, I didn't even have to say it, you were just thinking the same thing." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, cocking your head to the side, baffled at his suggestion.

"Do you know how many germs there are on this plane?" He shrugged again. "It's first class." You throw your hands up in frustration. "It's times like these that I remember you're a jock." He should've been offended, but he was still confused about what you mean.

"This place is full of germs, it's not even advisable to wash your face or do skin care on a plane because that's how dirty the air is." You patiently explained, watching him get more confused. "But we're not doing skincare, we're doing each other." You turned away, groaning loudly with your eyes closed.

"You're so boring." He complained like a child. "I'm also gonna snitch on your mom if you don't get your shit together." He snorted at that, pulling out his headphones out of his small slingbag. "She won't believe you, I'm her baby." "Yeah, you are a baby."

His head snapped at you immediately, before he could come up with a smart response that probably would have to do something to do with his penis, You pushed his head back to the other side, patting his cheeks like you would a toddler and quickly put on your headphones.

He turned around again and said something, but at that point you already turned up the volume. "Sorry, I can't hear you baby." He stuck his tongue out in annoyance. You thought you heard him mutter 'baymax looking ass' but didn't react as you didn't want him to think he won.

The flight was 2 and a half hours long. You were sure you could stay awake for that amount of time, but once the flight attendant brought out the heated blanket, the both of you were down in 5 minutes.

The pilot said something through the comm that you were too sleepy to hear once the plane had finally reached the destination. You wiped your eyes with the back of your fists groggily and began shaking Jace to wake up while yawning.

The first nudge did nothing, you started tapping him on the shoulder, which by the 6th tap, you finally got a response; "5 more minutes please."

Only when you leaned closer into his ears and blew air into it does he jolt up, eyes wincing. "That tickles." He murmured, wiping his hand over his tired face. "We're about to land." You informed him, taking your headphones off and passing it to him to keep in his bag. "Okay."

You were honestly eager to get your cramped ass out of the plane, but as you refresh yourself with bottled water, the realization dawned upon you. His mother, or father, would be waiting at the airport.

The comm dinged again as the pilot announced landing. The flight attendants were all quick to get to their seat once a loud zooming noise startled everyone. "There we go." You mumbled under your breath.

He helped you up once you were able to take the seat belt off. Jace slings his bag over his shoulder and uses his right hand to carry your extra duffle bag, his left hand intertwined with yours, helping you descend down the stairs before him.

"Let me hold it." You offered, but he shook his head no. "If my mom or dad saw me making you carry anything they'll strangle me." He sounded serious so you let him penguin walk with your hands still holding his, making your way over the baggage section.

"Are you excited." He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Over the moon." You answered with a tight smile. If he noticed the sarcasm, he didn't comment on it. "Good, I promise this will be your best Christmas yet." He sounded so convincing that it made you smile against your will.

"It's literally my first Christmas, so I don't think there'll be any competition yet, Jace." "Exactly." You laughed quietly, letting him take the lead as you walked through the crowded space of the airport. Once you got on the elevator, you were going to ask him if he could see his parents from here, but he cut you to it by shouting loudly and waving both your hands up in the air. "We're here!"

Jesus fuck, you thought. If you were anywhere else, you would've immediately pulled his arm down, what with everyone around you glaring at him. But his parents were watching, and you saw his parents wave back excitedly, thankfully neither were yelling back.

The first observation you make as you begin to near them was how much he looked like his father. His mother looked exquisitely different than him. She was beautiful, with platinum blonde hair tied in a bun, her eyes smiled every time her lips did. You found yourself with a small smile, beaming at their joy as his mother started walking towards you both. I don't think I've ever seen anyone's parents this happy to have their child back home.

"Finally." You hear his mother sigh out as she pulls Jacaerys in a hug. She was quick to pull away so she could get a good look at his face. "Look at you, exactly the same." He rolls his eyes. "It's been like 6 months." She ignored his wit and pushed him aside to take you in. You didn't have the time to extend a hand as she pulls you in an embrace too. You yelped at first but hugged her back easily and smiled at her.

"So this is the sweetheart Jace has been keeping from me?" She joked, holding the side of your face with her palms. "I think I should be the one saying that." You didn't know why you said that, but it made her laugh heartily, only after you said it did you realize that it sounded like you were flirting with your boyfriend's mom.

From the corner of your eyes you could see Jace walking over to you with his father. "Have you eaten yet? You must be famished."

L That's another thing you noticed about his family. They use words like famished. The way his mother spoke sounded regal, you could even say royalty.

"Oh it's fine, I've already had some cheesecake on the plane." Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, seeing that her frown deepens. "Oh, that's barely lunch, and it's almost tea time too."

You thought tea time was a myth honestly, something British people made up to sound funny, like the monarchy. As far as you can remember, you grew up only eating one full meal a day at home. Your mother would buy you nothing else and asked if you were really that hungry, you'd assert another white lie and tell her that you really can't eat too much anyways and that your appetite is small.

As you grew older, your appetite did grow smaller, but it ended up making you feel guilty every time you wanted to eat more than once a day, as you would feel like you don't deserve it.

"It's fine, we've cooked up a nice meal back home, once you get yourself cleaned up, we can all eat together." She was incredibly soft spoken, and she looked at you in a very motherly manner. Your thank you was cut off as you hear her husband called out. "Rhaenyra-'' he appears by her side, smiling widely at you, his features remarkably similar to his son. "There you are, the prettiest girl he's ever seen, eh?" He winked at Jace, making him stutter, turning red. "Dad please-" He ignores him just like Rhaenyra did before.

"Well how do you do?" You shook hands with his father, introducing yourself. At least this time you didn't say anything that sounds like you're trying to seduce Jace's father.

Once the formalities was over, his father helped pick up the baggage that finally arrived, they have a large range rover, more than enough to fit 2 weeks worth of clothes. Jace was going to sit in the back with you, but his mother wacked him in the head and told him to sit up front. "You can't bring your girlfriend over and then hoggle her for yourself." She warned him as climbed up the back seat after you.

You're not sure if the reason you're absolutely terrified to look at Rhaenyra was because she doesn't look like a mother of 3 or because you wanted to impress her. But you tried your best to appear calm as her husband started driving. “Have you eaten anything yet sweetheart?” He asks from the front, equally as sweet as his wife.

“Uh, I had a cheesecake-” “Oh a cheesecake? For the whole day? That's not good, Jace, why didn't you buy her anything.” He scolded his son.

“She didn't want anything else-” “That can't be true, you little pig, you can't eat so much and then starve your girlfriend!”

“I'm really fine.” Your assurance wasn't acknowledged as his mother joined in. “That's right, you're lucky we cooked something up.” “She had a cheesecake-” Jace attempts to defend himself, which only made his father snort. “You know how plane foods are, they’re tiny!” You nodded in agreement, quietly whispering, “Yeah they are.” Which earned you a glare from Jace. He did try to get you to eat more, but like he said, you weren't interested. “Already teaming up against me.” He mumbled in annoyance.

The whole car ride home was peaceful. They continued to make small talk with you, asking if you've ever went skiing before, apparently it's something they did every Christmas. “Don't worry, it's quite easy, Jace could teach you when we go together.” Rhaenyra said to you later.

“Does your parents know you're here? We don't want to steal you away from them for your sem break.” Rhaenyra asked apologetically. Why did everyone care so much about whether your parents knew or not? “Oh yeah, they don't mind.” The lie came on so naturally that you forgotten about Jace being told the opposite. He snuck a glance at you but it was too quick that you didn't manage to catch his reaction. ”Good, good.” Rhaenyra concluded, relieved to hear it.

The car pulls up into a guarded neighborhood. You weren't surprised to see that most of the houses inside are mansions, perfected with their own large car porches and a garden. And you weren't surprised to see the house they finally reached in the end was as equally large as the others. The outside walls were gray and cream coloured, you could seentwo different entrances from the side and from the front by the porch.

“Home sweet home.” Jace spoke from his seat. If your house looked like that than it'd be a sweet home too.

—-

It wasn't a bad dream that jolted you awake tonight. But rather the jarring change of surrounding that you weren't used to. Jace lays on his side, an arm lazily hung over your waist. It was his snoring that pulled you out if your confusion. The white and large curtains covering the see through doors of the balcony looked unfamiliar because they aren't yours, they're Jace's.

And the reason why the floor felt so cold once you placed both your feet on the ground after you've gently push his hands off to climb off the bed was because it's made of marble, not concrete like you were used to.

Slipping into the bathroom quietly and turning on the sink tap, the brutal coldness of the water made you wince. You let your fingers familiarize with the feeling before wiping it over your dull face.

It was 2am, the clock hung on the walls of the dimly lit room read. A dreaded and fatigued part of you wanted to get back to bed, but there was a restlessness growing inside of your bones. Today is the third day that you've been here, 6 days until Christmas. You had spent the past few days helping Rhaenyra bake gingerbread cookies and joined in snowball fights with Jace and his siblings.

Your boyfriend definitely had more fun than his younger brothers. How fun it was to be able to chuck 7 snowballs in a row at his girlfriend's face before she starts chasing him into the snowflake covered woods threatening to dropkick him.

You thought things have been going pretty well so far. At first you had worried that your quiet personality would somehow make things awkward, but you seemed to have fit in rather easily with them.

You weren't shy or anything, just more reserved than most. And not that you'd ever tell Jace to his face, but Joffrey probably was your favourite. He was the youngest and the cutest. At first he had completely ignored you on the first night that you arrived, but the next day during breakfast he showingly changed his mind for his dislike or indifference for you by making Jace switch places with him to sit by your left.

It was announced on that very same day that you are to be his favourite person in that house too.

The door made a small creaking noise as you opened it to leave. Walking down the dark corridor that led downstairs, you walked yourself to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. Help yourself to the fridge, Rhaenyra had told you 2 days ago. Well, don't mind if I do.

The fridge light shone over your face like the glow of heaven as you bend down to see your choices. They had cranberry juice, which wasn't exactly your favourite, but it was better than orange juice which was another thing they had. There's bar of chocolate you're tempted to steal, but you have a feeling it's not yours to take.

Just as your hand extends to grab at the cranberry juice, the kitchen lights flicker open, making you flinch so hard that you accidentally banged your head on the upper part of the fridge. "Ow."

"Oh it's just you." Rhaenyra's voice laughed out. Pulling your head out like a snack thief, you smiled sheepishly at her.

"Sorry, was gonna grab a drink." She shook her head and head over to the kitchen sink, washing her hands. "It's fine, I thought you were Joffrey, he likes to steal his brother's chocolate bars." Well that's something the two of you have in common.

"What are you drinking?" She asks turning to look at you. "Just cranberry juice." She hummed in disagreement, shaking her head. "In this cold season? Take a seat, I'll make some tea." You have never jumped so quickly to interject anyone. "Oh no, It's fine! Really, it's 2am, I should probably get back to sleep anyways.".

She seems to take light of your argument, already pulling out a teapot and a small Camomile teabag. "Oh it's no bother, if you weren't craving anything then you wouldn't be awake rummaging through the fridge anyways." You stood awkwardly by the closed fridge watching her add hot water into the pot. "Fetch me the sugar will you?" You moved quickly to pull out the tub of sugar from one of the kitchen cabinets, passing it to her.

"So, what's keeping you up at night?" You shrugged lightly, leaning against the kitchen counter as you didn't want to sit and wait at the table like a brat. "Nothing really, I'm insomniac, so..." Her eyes widened momentarily. "Oh really?" You nodded.

"Mmhm, I take medication for it, but sometimes it doesn't work." She reacts with a string of Ooohs, stirring inside the pot with a long spoon.

"Melatonin?" You nodded again. That, and some anti psychotics.

Once she's finally done with the tea, you sat by her as she poured it into two mugs for the both of you. It was odd that she was up for small talk this late in the night, but you enjoyed conversing with her. "You know I don't think I've ever asked you what major you are, and that silly boy has never told me." "I'm an art major." You answered. She smiled so dotingly at the response, sincerely intrigued. "An art major? You can draw then?" You hummed positively. "Draw, paint a little."

She sips her hot tea patiently. "I'm a fan of art myself, have you heard of Egon Schiele?" You laughed breathily. "Of course, who doesn't?" Rhaenyra tipped her head to the side in a small nod of agreement. "I have some of his paintings on my office, his works had been a favourite. Quite an expressive man isn't he?" You considered the man's work with his personal life. "Not exactly a role model but yeah, he is."

Your tea is finished, but you remain unmoved on the chair, waiting for her to continue. "You know I believe that the arts is the heart of humanity. Some people might not agree, people who can't see beyond the techniques and brush strokes, but art is what happen when you try to make beauty out of pain, isn't it? I mean as stereotypical as it sounds."

Your eyes were no longer droopy from sleepiness, they match the pure intensity Rhaenyra's had. "It is. Without art, and I don't mean just paintings- I mean poetry and literature and theatre, pain would just be pain. Meaningless." "Exactly."

You don't know what the silent words being exchanged through your gazes actually meant, but something did cross between the two of you, an understanding of a sort, an alliance in beliefs.

"I also believe that those who dabble in art, in any mediums, are the ones who love the strongest and lose the hardest." An unintentional smile bloomed over your face. "Tell me about it." Rhaenyra laughs lightly. "Have you always dabbled in art?" She questioned.

You relive blurry memories of badly drawn trees and stick humans done when you were a child. "Sure, yeah. I've always liked it. I mean it's not just this magical talent I have or anything, as much as the arts is viewed in a much bigger scale of its effects to society as a whole, it's could also be deemed important in indivual intepretation."

Rhaenyra leans back against her chair, hands placed on her lap politely. "Like for example- art is intimate because it is yours.

- It doesn't have to have a deeper meaning all the time and neither does it have to emotionally strike you for it to be considered art. To love, some people say, is to be understood. But we can never truly understand anyone, no matter how hard we think we can.

-And so I think that art, just like people, can be loved even without context. Whatever feeling it sparks inside of you, it is intimate because it is complicated, and it is intimate because it can mean a hundred different things to a hundred different people."

Her expression was unreadable. You wondered if you have confused or overwhelmed her. But after a few minutes of silence, she asked; "And what about people?" "What about it?"

"You compared it to art, and you said art needn't be understood to be loved, does the same goes for people?" You clasped your cold hands on the warm mug and pursed your lips together, your thoughts racing each other.

"Yeah, it does. I mean I use to think that being with a person who understood you was the most important thing in the world, and though it does feel good to finally be seen by someone else, like I said before, it is nearly impossible to be truly understood. And so, the second best thing would be to be loved despite not being understood. To have someone who believes in you, even if they're not sure about the situation or the facts or your rationality, that is love. To be believed in."

"Faith?" Rhaenyra suggests. "Yes, faith."

You stood up right after, taking her empty cup to wash for too despite her complaints, hand washing them as you're not sure how to use a dishwasher. "I'm glad you're here." Rhaenyra spoke from behind you. It wasn’t the validation that had struck you so deeply in the chest, nor was it her appreciation for you, instead, ot was her acceptance. "I'm glad I'm here too."

In this small moment between 2 to 3am on a Thursday at your boyfriend's kitchen, you wonder if you've found the right kind of people to call home.

"Thanks for the tea, I hope I didn't keep you up." You thanked her in a hushed voice, genuinely grateful. She returned your smile and squeezed your shoulder softly. "You did no such thing, now go get some sleep, alright?"

When you returned to Jace's room, you find him sitting up on the bed in the dark. You closed the door behind you slowly and tiptoed towards him.

"Where'd you go?" He asks sleepily, pulling you close to his chest as he moves to lie back down. "Went to get a drink." You whispered back. "For 20 minutes?" You snorted and lifted your head up to kiss him on the cheek before placing your head back under his chin. "Your mother couldn't sleep either, she made tea."

Jace accepted the response, asking no more questions. His arms wrap around your body the way a ship holds on to an anchor. You didn't know how much you needed someone to need you until you met him.

You notice that he's still awake, with the way his finger is lightly tapping the skin of your shoulder. "Did I wake you up? Sorry." You feel him shaking his head slightly. "No, I was just thinking." He mumbled back. "About?" You inquired him.

"You, I miss you." You frowned and pulled back to look at him. "I'm right here." He shrugged. "I know, but sometimes you're not. Sometimes you're here but when I look at you, you're gone. And I don't know how to bring you back." You feel a splinter in your heart when he said that. How foolish you are to expect him to be so stupid to never notice how unstable you can be at times, how easily you dissociate and push him away before pulling him right back.

"I'm sorry." You told him sincerely, not sure what else there is that could be said.

"I'm not angry, or upset. I just want you to know that Im right here with you too, and I'm not going anywhere." You smiled sadly at him and nodded. "I know." Your noses booped together and he returns your small smile. "Anything you need me for, I'm here." Jacaerys assures you, half yawning. "I just need you to trust me, and I'll trust you. Can you do that for me?" He stared silently for a moment and then nodded once. "Okay, I trust you. But you have to honor your end."

You pecked his lips with one hand caressing his cheek. "I trust you." You promised.

—

It was 3 days before Christmas. You've spent the past week skiing and building a snowman with the kids. These past few days have been so suspiciously peaceful that it's terrifying.

You're on edge, despite the happiness this family has brought you. You like to tell yourself that you're just being careful, but the truth is that sometimes you can't tell the difference between a house fire and a small candle.

You had texted your mother 2 days ago, confessing to her that you've been spending this week with your boyfriend's family. You made sure to keep your lie about your job going, stating that this visit was a last minute kind of thing. She never answered.

She shouldn't be bothered, you soothed yourself. She never cared if you ever actually came home or not, why should this be an exception?

You and Jacaerys have spent the day going from shop to shop, eyeing beautiful Christmas lights and discounts available. You started with a bakery in the morning, Rhaenyra's suggestion. You had gotten free tastings on many of the popular cake choices before Jace finally settled on buying his mother's favourite Lemon cake.

He had urged you to pick something for yourself and you landed on some éclairs, finishing them up on the car ride to the antique gift shop a few blocks further.

The store had a giant nutcracker statue staring out from inside the windows, they reminded you of the old Christmas movies you spent watching as a child. The bell on the door jiggled loudly as you entered after Jace, a longing gaze towards the nutcracker, hints of nostalgia filling up your heart.

An elderly lady guarded the counter with a smile. "Looking for anything in particular?" She asks. Jace shook his head and smiled back. "Just looking around." He soon found himself crouching down at the snow globe sections, pulling a few out of the shelves to eye the intricate details.

You had walked to the candle shelves, admiring the colourful choices. There was another nostalgic thing on candles too. A superstitious kind. The way you used to blow on them for every birthday or random nights you remembered to lit up your rose scented candles that stays on your bedside, wishing on them like you do on a shooting star.

Asking for some kind of mercy from whichever god there was looking down at you. But in the end you had to pull yourself up without any kind of divine intervention. You had learned that there was only one god inside of you, and she was a girl fed on rage and grievance who spent her nights weeping in her empty altar.

The girl was still there, quieter now, but unflickering, unlike a candle.

You eye the red coloured candle gently, sniffing on the wax to identify the scent. Rose. You place it back on the shelf and move on to the cutlery sets.

You loved cutlery, plates and mugs. Maybe it's the 20s getting to you, but some days you feel that the house decoration section of IKEA was better than any night club you've been in. A beautiful chipped cup stared at you from the lower shelves. It was beautiful, purple flowers drawn on the curves and long thing green ropes on the holder.

You were pulling it out to look inside when your phone suddenly dinged multiple times, buzzing in the pocket of your pants. Clumsily, you pushed the cup back in and took your phone out whilst still crouching.

M: Is this some sort of tantrum you're throwing?

the first notification read, making you frown. You don't have the strength to swipe open the screen to read the full sentence, only reading what's shown on your lockscreen. Just before you could click it off after pressing mute, another notification enters, the words too bright, reading themselves aloud to you.

M: you're selfish, do you ever think about anyone else but yourself? It's always how you feel because only yo-

the full message was cut off as another notification enters. Irritation filled you the same time that your eyes pricked with angry tears. You blinked a few times to get rid of it as you shove your muted phone back in your pants.

I can't fucking deal with this right now. You told yourself. Your phone buzzed again, making you harshly take it back out to turn off the vibration.

It always has t be a problem with her. Selfish she called you? On the one time you decided to do something fo yourself?

Pulling yourself up to stand your kneed are met with the cup that's still half out from it's shelf, shoving it behind strongly, a small crash sound turned your whole body into stone.

You bend back down immediately, pulling out the chipped mug and the small broken pieces of it's corners. You could hear the owner getting up. Shit shit shit. "What was that sweetie?"

You turned to her with a saddened expression. "I'm so sorry, I'll pay for it-" the woman's eyes moved from your face to the glass pieces and gasped. "Oh my, wait here- I'll get the broom." As soon as she disappeared to the store room, Jacaerys was by your side in the next second. "What happened?" He bends down.

"It was an accident, I smashed it with my knee." Your voice was shaky and you feel your fingers prick as you try to sweep the pieces onto your left palm before the lady returned. "Baby, put it back, she's bringing the broom." He warned you. You shook your head lightly and kept picking up the tiny sharp ones. "It's fine, I got it-" Jace grabbed your hand and turned it upside down so they fall back on the ground.

"Jace what the fuck is wrong with you." You snapped, pulling your hand back. Your voice was high, close to yelling. "Your hand is fucking bleeding, there's literal cuts." He argued back, trying and failing to grab at your wounded hand.

The store room door opened loudly, the both of you turned to see the lady walking over quickly with a small broom. "Move aside you two." She ordered calmly.

"I can do it for you, it was my fault." You offered her, ignoring how Jace is trying to pull you back. "Oh no, it's fine sweetie, it happens all the time." You opened your mouth to ask again, desperate to try and fix the mess you made, but you could feel Jace's grip on your arm tightening and stayed silent.

"I didn't mean to." You whispered. His grip loosens, his hand moved from your arm to your shoulder. "It's fine, I'll pay for it." He immediately widened his eyes to warn you to keep quiet, knowing you'd argue against it. "Let me pay for it now, we'll discuss this later." He muttered closely to you. Your lips pursed together, not wanting to say or do anything you can't take back, you shush up.

There is large wave of emotion building up inside of you. It was overwhelming because it's not just one emotion. As the anger dissolves into pathetic guilt, you bite your lip from bursting out crying. Blinking fastly for a few more times, you managed to keep your breakdown from blowing up.

Standing by the door like a rock, you watch as Jace pulls out his purse to pay for the damage. You can see the lady shaking her head, denying his money. "It's old, not worth anything." You hear her say to him.

He ended up buying a tint snow globe and aa keychain anyways, to make up for the broken cup. She seemed to hold no grudge in her expression, smiling at the two of you and saving as you left.

Neither of you said anything on the walk to the car. Once you got in and strapped on the seatbelt, you twisted your face to him to see if he was upset and noticed that he was frowning. He hands you the small plastic gift, looking straight up front. A small sigh leaves him after he turns up the AC. the car engine noise filling up the tension between you.

"It was an accident." You repeated. He finally turns to you, with a look much worse than rage. Disappointment, pity. "I know." He responds softly. "I was just trying to clean it up, I felt bad." He nodded quietly, slowly averting his gaze to the steering wheel.

More silence filled the gap. When he finally steps on the pedal to reverse out of the parking, you turned away to look out the window in resolve. Nothing was said throughout the whole ride home.

Rhaenyra was excited to have you both home by evening. Her husband was quickly chastised for taking the first bite off of her cake. The sight was both amusing and endearing. You would've smiled in another scenario.

Jace talked and moved like nothing happened, offering for you to take a shower first before him, helping his mother with the dishes as the children are scolded for running around the kitchen. "Go to your room." Jace forced them with a kind of authority that you rarely see in him.

You watch the kids run up pass you, saying hi to you before they disappeared to their rooms.

Going for a shower yourself, you found solace in the privacy that his bathroom gave you. Letting the hot water run down your body along with your tears, you couldn't tell the difference between whicb and which.

Your face and eyes was red by the time you were done, the hot water obviously helped with that. But the warmth after cold skin biting walks was calming, even with the overthinking that came with today's events, the shower helped to bring down the temperature of your emotions.

Washing your face with cold water from the sink next, you avoid looking in the mirror. Shame erupted inside your chest, like a child scorned and embarrassed by their own behaviour.

You could hear Jace walk in the room from the bathroom. The door makes a sound as it's shut close. Letting your hair down for the first time today, you combed the wild strands with your fingers, lightly massaging your head as you brave yourself to face him again.

You didn't do anything wrong, why are you so scared?

You push the door open and dry your feet on the carpet outside of it. Jace was sitting on his bed, shirtless and charging his phone by the bedside.

He gives you a glance when be hears your footsteps and then turns back away like it's nothing. You're as watchful as him as you begin to dress yourself, sliding a green long-sleeved shirt over your head. You'd layer a cardigan over it later, but for now you're craving the chill after your hot shower.

He gets up to place his snow globe on his dressing table and hooked the small heart shaped keychain on his laptop bag. You sat yourself on the bed, feeling it dip and watching him still.

He turns on the small light on the front of his room after he's done closing all the curtains, and then you watch him take his trousers off before taking down his towel from the coat hanger and enter the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Hearing the sound if water begin falling from where he's in, you let your shoulder relax, a tired sigh escapes you.

You leaned back against the pillows and closed your eyes for a moment, letting the world around you turn dark.

—

The first time Jacaerys had slept over in your apartment was the first time he ever knew you were on multiple medication. It was the first time the two of you ever had sex, and he had passed out easily after. You, despite being tired, found yourself kept awake by your thoughts.

You can't remember what exactly kept you up but it was 2 hours in when he was startled awake by your shuffling around.

You had spent the last hours contemplating if you should grab a pill to help fall asleep or if it was too late and the pill would cause you to sleep in on tomorrow morning's class. And so the indecisiveness resulted in you trying your best and failing to fall asleep naturally. He looked up at you groggily and frowned.

"How you been awake the whole time?" He asked. You sighed tiredly and laid on your back.

"Yeah, sorry, did I wake you?" He shook his head and wiped a hand over his face. "You didn't, it's fine. I just thought you'd be down easy after all that."

You snorted and shook your head. "I'm insomniac."

"Oh." You nodded. "Yeah I have meds for it, but sometimes the pills all just clash together and it doesn't really work." He hummed in understanding. You noticed he doesn't ask more about the pills. It was either he didn't care or he was being respectful. You learned weeks in later that it was the latter. Unsurprisingly.

"Well, what do you do when you can't sleep?" You shrugged your shoulders. "Dunno. Watch stuff on my phone."

"What do you usually watch?" He asks, characteristically interested. "Gay sex." His head jolted forward and his eyes immediately widened. "I'm joking."

His shock immediately watered down as he gave you a faint laugh in response. "Right, of course."

You spent the rest of the night talking to him until your body gave in and you collapsed around his arm around dawn.

It's not an easy thing to forget, a man's first show of affection in small subliminal ways that some people might not notice. But you did, you always do.

That was not the last time you'd see him sacrifice his own comfort to make you feel less lonely than you already were. In a room full of people, colleagues, friends and family, you found that only he had the power to make you feel seen.

Other people looked at you and saw what you let them see. But Jacaerys was willing to pay much more attention to the things other people didn't want to. Your condition, whatever it's called (most people call it complicated), often made people uncomfortable. How is it a person like you could be so non chalant yet care so much at the same time. How was it you were reserved, but not shy or accepting of anyone's attempts to step over you?

They can't quite understand the complexity of being a damaged person that still tries their best to undo those damages on a daily. Niceties didn't always equal empathy. You learned that very early on in your life. To find someone who wouldn’t try to fix the hard parts of your self or resent you for them wasn't easy.

Most men, that you knew of, will either try to "fix" you in an attempt to make themselves feel heroic. Like a savior. And when they realise too far in that those scars you bared was unreversable, they use it againts you instead. They paint you out to be the bad guy for those same traits they promised and vowed to be so understanding of.

And for almost the only time ever in your life that night, you didn't feel like your secrets were owed to anyone. A safe space was a place you knew you could be vulnerable with, but t was also supposed to be a place where you knew you could still be caution with all your walls up and still wouldn't be judged for it.

It was him who stayed through the cold shoulders and unanswered questions. And so, it was also him who you then trusted your whole heart with.

---

You were woken up 30 minutes before dinner time. Feeling the soft nudge Jacaerys gave you, shaking you awake easily. His hand lingered on your shoulder until you were sitting up fully. You thanked him and went up to the bathroom to wash your face.

"Mom's making lasagna tonight." He says ftom outside the bathroom door. He no longer referred to Rhaenyra as 'my mom', including you as part of the family without any awkwardness.

"I love lasagna." You called back. "I know."

The cold sink water have been getting warmer and warmer as the snow outside begins to melt. The weather was still antagonizing, but driving through the wet road was easier now, and morning showers are less dreadful.

"You know, we don't really get snow back home." You quipped as you turn off the sink, making your way out. "Really?" He asked, genuinely astonished.

"Yeah, it's a much warmer climate where I'm from." He was putting on a sweater by his mirror when you came out, his eyes met yours through the reflection. "So, you've never built a snowman before?".

You smiled and nodded, walking over to the bed. "Nope, the one we did the other day was my first time." Snowman building and snowball fights were fun, though you wouldn’t admit to your boyfriend that you much preferred staying inside with the heater on as you munch on some cookies and hot chocolate.

You were layering moisturiser over your face when you hear Jace speak, "I forgot to tell you, your mom called on your phone while you were sleeping." You froze for a second before your hands resumed massaging your face with the product.

"Oh, did you talk to her?" You asked, giving him a quick glance. Jacaerys shook his head and you felt relief spread through your whole body.

He sat by your side, watching you do your skincare routine meticulously. "I muted it, but you should probably call her back, it was two misscalls." You hummed uncaringly, as if it was the least important thing in the world, not wanting to give out a suspicious reaction.

The truth was you did not have the guts to check your messages at all since you came back from the shopping trip. You had her on mute and that had helped calm your nerves. But knowing that she had went as far as calling you twice, which believe it or not, is the first time you've ever had that much attention from her, was anxiety inducing.

"I'll call her later." You stated, noticing him still staring at you from the corner of your eyes. "Why did you say that she already knew you were here when we first arrived at the airport?" He asks suddenly.

There weren't any direct correlations of this question to the current situation, but it was unsurprising that he had brought this up. In fact, you have been waiting for him to do so.

"I did tell them." You answer bluntly. "You told me a few days before that you didn't want to." You closed the cap of your face serum and stashed it back inside your small bag, taking yout time with the conversation.

"I changed my mind. I was telling the truth when I said I didn't want to tell them at first, but I figured they should know. In case of emergencies." He was content with the answer, making no more inquiries.

Dinner was quick and quiet. You helped cut the marble cake Rhaenyra had made into small square shapes before its passed around to the whole table after prayers were spoken together.

There were no leftovers of it or the lasagna by the time it was over. You could tell that the older woman was overjoyed. She was someone who put all of her love and effort into everything that she does for her family, and watching her children appreciate the hard work of a mess she made in the kitchen must've felt rewarding.

You helped her with the dishes until everyone else except Jace had left. She argued against it at first, insisting that you were a guest and shouldn't have to do anything. But you refused to leave until the kitchen was clean, so she had you sweep crumbs and pieces out of the carpet while Jace was to take out the trash.

"It's good to have another woman here." She said to you as she stacks up the dry plates back to the shelves.

Throwing out the collected trash into the dustbin, you offered her a small laugh. "I'm glad you feel so."

You went up first after the cleaning was done, leaving Jacaerys with his mother, discussing the Christmas tree arrangements.

The medium sized plastic tree they had ordered last week finally arrived, and it was up to him to fix it up on their livingroom by the end of today.

You considered your gift for his family that you had handmade a few days before you flew here. It would've been easier to buy something, but buying them all an individual gift would be costly, and Jacaerys himself have warned you against that, deeming it unnecessary.

And so your ivory and indigo themed painting of Daisies and Forget Me Not's would be enough.

It was an image that you had longed to paint for a long time, two contrasting coloured flowers tangled together. But with all the assignments and homework that your degree was already requesting of you, there hadn't be any time for you to make it up until the week before you an Jace left.

It wasn't your best work, but it was your favourite. The subtlety that tied together on the canvas satisfied you.

Jace came up shortly after you had. Mumbling something about the decorations looking shitty. Ignoring the fact that you were reading on the bed, jumped on it suddenly, making you bounce up. "Hello?" You snapped, waving your book.

He raised his brows innocently, laying down on the pillows. "All you do is read and paint." He whined. "I like reading and painting."

He poked your right thigh with his toes making you pause reading to slap his feet as a warning. "Get a hobby." You could feel his eye roll from behind you. "Loving you is my hobby."

You kept your eyes on the book as you responded, "how lifeless you must be." Your book is snatched from your hand right after your sentence is finished. "Give it back you gorilla." You twist yourself towards him, trying to reach for the book as he held it up over your head.

"No, this thing has taken over my place as the center of your attention." You let out a loud hah! Pushing him down against the bed and pried the book from his cold hands as he kept his grip on it.

"Bold of you to assume you were ever the center of my attention." He gasped and you took the opportunity to grab the book while his hand loosens.

"How can I not be the center of your attention? Look at me." He spoke seriously.

The book was safely placed by your side, but now he's grabbing you over him instead. "You know I only agreed to date you just in case I'd need to apply for a green card." You gritted out as he squeezes your face against his cheek. Jacaerys' facade of being offended broke and he threw his head back in a boisterous laugh, letting you slip away from him

Shoving him strongly while he's still choking on laughter, he fell off the bed with an oof and landed face down, drawing out a laugh from you instead.

Pulling himself back up, he squints his eyes and glared at you. "You're so boring."

What he views as boring is your kind of fun and that was just how it is. "What do you want us to do instead? Have a slumber party?" He tilt his face, genuine considering it. You cut him off before he could agree. "No- We're not doing that, because I know your definition of slumber party."

"I thought you liked my definition of a slumber party." He asks, laying his head on your lap and letting you get your few pages in for the night. "We're at your parent's house, I don't think they'd like your definition of a slumber party." He hummed and said nothing else, closing his eyes as he stays against your thighs.

You suspected it was either the white wine or the sugar rush of the three squares if marble cake that he had tonight that was making him slightly more hyper. Whatever it was, it's refraining him from being able to just sit his ass down. You once asked him if he had ADHD during your first month of dating, he vaguely answers 'probably' and started talking about something else right after.

Speedreading the last 3 pages of the chapter you're in, you thought he had fallen asleep until he turned around so he would face up to you. "Do you want to go see the Christmas lights?"

You barely heard what he said at first, trying to finish reading the last sentence of the page. "Huh?" He repeated what he said again, waiting for you to close your book and meet his eyes.

When you finally do, you looked down at him with skepticism. "Right now?" He nodded. It was around 8.30, not that late, but also pretty early. You tossed and turned the suggestion in your head until you finally just shrugged at him. "Are they really that pretty?"

"This street is full of mansions wrapped with gigantic traffic lights coloured decorations. Pretty sure the Millers have a gigantic Elf statue outside their gate." You blinked in surprise. "That's...festive."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, rich people stuff."

You'd counter back that he was rich too, but there aren't any weird Santa statues in this house yet, so you say nothing. "We don't have to see the ones around this neighbourhood, I know the street stalls are gonna be lit up all around tonight, We could drive around, grab a burger or something."

You were still full from the lasagna, but a burger sounded appealing. You had grown up around street foods and cheap oily burgers and fries from stalls by your house. The taste was always better than whatever clean expensive food you've ever had in your life. You were eager to get out of this place suddenly.

"Okay, sure. Let me finish one more chapter and we can go." Jacaerys cheered, fist bumping the air before he rolled off of you to go change into something thicker.

It ended up being an hour later when you were finally done with the book, managing to convince your dressed up boyfriend on his reindeer sweater that it's much too early still.

To make up for your lack of priority for the time, you were punished to wear a matching red sweater like his. Putting it on with a grumble and frown, he had no idea that you secretly liked the sweater but would rather die than confess it aloud.

You let him get downstairs first to inform his mother of your plans. He was already starting the car engine when you got down, his parents and young Joffrey were all settled on the couch, watching Bluey.

Rhaenyra smiled as you walked by. You waved at her as you're about to walk out and hear her call out to her son. "Be back before 11, or I'll lock you both out!"

"Yeah, yeah." Jace yelled back and closes the door.

You hopped on the passenger seat of his Range Rover with ease and put on the seatbelt while he starts to reverse the car out of parking.

"So, where first?" You ask.

"We could start with stalking our neighbour's houses and then go on a drive down the street- or, we could go down the street first and then stalk our neighbours." You don't miss the way he referred to his neighbours as ours. "I think we should stalk the weird elf dude first, we'll probably be starving again by the time that's done, and then we can go straight to the shops and get a burger."

"Oh wow, you had this all planned out didn't you?" He sounded amused.

"Well, better safe than sorry." He wore a puzzled expression at your words but did not ask for clarification.

The house with the 5'4 elf wasn't that far away from his, and true his words were, the elf did exist by the large gates.

It had a green pointy hat on and wore a red vest with blue buttons.

"The Italian flag?" You whispered out in confusion, watching through the binoculars Jace had stolen from his younger brother. "I think...that's the Christmas colours, not the Italian flag." He whispered back, taking the binoculars from you.

"Oh right, of course." This had to be the first and last time you said something that stupid around him. You had a reputation to keep of being the smart one

What's more terrifying than the large demonic eyes of the elf staring at you was how there were also multiple tiny elves surrounding the big one, like little elf babies with adult elf faces. They crowded around the feet of the big elf, building what seemed like an elf shrine.

"It's like a cult." Jacaerys spoke after a while. You thought the exact same thing.

"Like little cultish elves worshipping their elf messiah." Jace lowered the binocular and snapped his neck towards you. "You think this is legal?"

You frowned at him. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, i mean it's a bit disturbing isn't it, like, doesn't this count as property damage or something, or least neighbourhood disturbance."

"The only authority figure I could imagine would have a problem with this is Santa Claus for illegal use of elves, besides that, I don't think a statue of Elf on the shelf would count as a distubance at all." He looked uncomfortable at your explanation, and only then did it click in your head.

"Jace, are you scared of the 5'4 static Elf?"

His silence and slow reaction was answer enough. You gasped in realization. "You are!"

"I'm not fucking scared of the Elf." He denied strongly as you leaned against the locked car door in shock. "I'm just...disturbed. It's almost the same height as me."

"You can't blame the elf for your growth problems." He glared at you and started the car on reverse. "That's the worst thing you've ever said to me, worse than the time you compared me to the hunchback of Notre Dame."

You burst out a giggle at the random memory. "Oh my god, the hunchback of Notre Dame!" You recalled the nickname joyfully. "Well, it made you fix your posture. Also you called me Baymax last week, so it cancels out.

Jace drives the car out of the neighbourhood, waving at the security guard who stood by the post to open the gate. Making a turn on his right, he heads straight for the streetshops.

"You called yourself Baymax, I just corrected you." He defends himself.

It took longer than usual to get there, considering that so many other people there had the same idea as them. Jace had to turn on the heater when halfway near the destination, snow began to fall down from lonely starless sky.

It was microscopic and beautiful. You had wanted to reach yout hand out through the window and grabbed one of the flakes on the palm of your hands, but you refrained from doing it

In the back of your head, you can hear the cynical voice of your mother calling your childlike awe a sign of immaturity.

People like you who thinks life is all about dreams and art and poetry are the kind of people who ends up in the street once your hopes have failed you.

You let yourself enjoy the scenery before Jace finally parks the car bynthe side of the road. He helps you get off the ride and locked it securely before intertwining your hands together and heading to the burger stall that's a block away from where you two stood.

"The traffic's gonna be crazy tomorrow." He mutters under his breath, looking up as the snowflakes continue to fall down. "Because of the snow?" You ask anyways, despite knowing the answer.

"That, and because people are going to head back home or wherever they came from for Christmas day." Ah yes, of course.

The holiday that you came here for.

"Well I can't imagine the traffic on the day after Christmas would be any more pleasing." He nods in agreement, scrunching up his nose in displease.

Thank god for their first class flight.

The burger order took less than 5 minutes. You sat down next to him by the door of a closed pawnshop as you ate it all up. The flavor of red chilli sauce and mayo filled you mouth, it felt like a reminiscent of an old memory.

You finished it faster than Jacaerys and stood up to walk over past the streetlamp to take a closer look at the glorious crescent moon that stared back at you from above.

Lifting both your hands up, you use them to cover the blurry glow of the lamp from your sides to let yourself see the moon better. You weren't sure how long you had been standing there just staring at it, but it didn't matter because even after years of knowing the exist of the moon, it's beauty never fail to leave you in awe every time you see it

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone this excited to see the moon." You hear your boyfriend tease from behind you. He must have already finished his burger. "Oh you haven't seen me with the stars yet.".

You could feel him smiling from behind as he places a hand on your shoulder. "Not much of them tonight." He noted. "Yeah, it's like they're all in hiding."

Letting your heart whisper out one last wish on the stunning moon, you turned back towards Jacaerys with pursed lips and raised brows. "Well, where are we going next?" He smiles back. "I think the bookstore up front is doing 20% off."

---

Jacaerys Strong is scared of a lot of thing. He's scared of learning new stuff. He is scared of heights and pests and gigantic sized elfs.

But his biggest fear these past few months is accidentally saying the wrong thing at the wrong time around you.

He realized very early on that when it came to being in a relationship with you, patience was a major key that was necessary. And just because he had succeeded in waiting long enough for you to finally unlock that door, it didn't mean that there were no more locks in the future.

But sometimes he's not sure which room he is in and he can't tell which key is for which. It's not that you're overly complicated, just more confusing than some. There were many times where he felt inclined to listening and studying the way you act instead of tryong to pry details out of you.

Pressuring you into opening up or trying to make whatever you two have go faster would be a recipe for disaster.

There was a discount indeed when you both got to the bookstore. Despite his reputation of being more muscles than brains, Jacaerys liked reading. He wasn't exactly an avid reader before he met you, but he enjoyed reading whatever you recommended him to so that the both of you could talk about it together afterwards.

You spent some time on the Young Adult shelf before moving onto the Classics and New Adult sections while your boyfriend strayed away to the other shelves but still remained close to you. And after 20 minutes of searching about, you finally picked up a copy of The Essex Serpent while Jace bought himself The Crucible.

"I didn't take you for a play kind of guy." You commented as you walk out the store. "I've read a few of them this year actually." He admits as the two of you make way to his car. "Really?" You sounded astonished, he couldn't blame you.

"Yeah, I actually had to read All's well that end's well and Hamlet for my lit class, but i liked them so I decided to read Macbeth too just for fun."

"You can understand Shakespeare?" You ask with a frown. He makes a face at your words. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

"I'm not. I tried Romeo and Juliet in like 11th grade, couldn't understand shit." You explained.

You liked reading and you liked literature, but you weren't good at understanding old english writing. Growing up, it felt like you weren't allowed to indulge in two kinds of hobbies that leaned more towards the artistic side of education. Your mother has always regarded your passion for the arts as a waste of times. I've never met an artists that didn't die suffering. She had told you when you were 13 years old after she had thrown out all of your drawing books because you were getting below B+ on your mathematic and science subjects.

"Did your school not have a literature class?" You shook your head no. "We had normal English for like, grammar, vocabulary, and essays. But we were never taught to read the classics or poetry like a lot of the other public schools."

Jacaerys was a private school boy, so of course his classes were much more detailed and well organized compared to the ones held in public schools.

"That sounds boring." It was boring, when you finally entered college and was able to attend literature class as an elective subject, you found that your passion for the language still burned bright even after years.

The next half an hour was spent driving down the road and looking at the fairy lights hung from streetlamp to streetlamp. A lot of the shops had plastic made snowmans guarding the door of the place.

More snow began heavily filling up the ground, it was getting the people around the place even more excited. You could see parents with their children, and teenagers with their friends running around trying to catch the snowflakes and bending down to investigate the ones that have fallen.

If it weren't for the blistering cold, you'd probably get off the vechicle to join them.

An old toyshop by the end of the road even had these stunning little rudolph the red nosed reindeer figures staring out from inside the shop. Jace suggested going in to check the place out, but you were getting comfortable in your seat, just enjoying the view from inside.

Clenching your toes tightly in an attempt to warm them up, the fuzzy pair of socks you had on were no help. "I think we should just stay inside, used enough money for today."

"Broken enough stuff too." He responds in a joking manner as he pulls over in a singular parking lot behind an empty building.

You feel a something snap in your head as you turned to him. "Are you still mad about that?" He wore a puzzled expression at the question but still kept his eyes on his front despite the car already being parked. "I'm not mad at you, I was just joking." He responds in a weary intonation.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better." You said calmly. Sometimes people lie as not to offend the other person, but you wanted him to know that he could be honest with you on how be feels. "I know you were at least a little upset, that's why you wouldn't speak to me when we got home."

He turns off the front lights of the car and the engine, and then pulled his seat back slightly, getting more comfortable. When he finally looks at you, it was the kind of look that you have ling deciphered as a stare of commiseration. The kind that you give to starving stray dogs outside your door.

"Don't look at me like that, don't be patronizing." You warned him, leaning your back on the car door. "I'm not patronizing you, I didn't even say anything."

"You're looking at me like you feel bad, don't fucking feel bad. If you're angry at me, then tell me you're angry at me. I'm not a child, I can take it." He opened his mouth to argue against that but closed it just as fast as he opened them.

Glancing to his side like he's searching fir some sort of support, he meets your eyes again after a second, and spoke with much more confidence; "I'm not mad at you, I never was." You fold your arms together, shaking your head.

"Then why were you so silent on the way back- and don't say it's nothing, I know the difference between comfortable silence and awkward silence." He waves his arms in resignation and stutters out as he struggles to really think of a good response.

"Honestly?" You nod once. "I-I just didn't know, how to speak to you."

"What does that mean?" You pushed him to elaborate. "I mean, it's just that in certain times- certain situations, you can get so...vulnerable. Like you're seconds away from breaking. And in times like those, I'm just not sure how to approach or comfort you.

-I mean god knows I was never good with comforting people, but when you get so frustrated and upset, I'm just scared that if I say the wrong things or ask the wrong questions, I'll accidentally hurt you more and push you away from me further."

The pity in his eyes were gone, replaced with worry instead. You take in every words he says with a sharp piercing in your heart. "Oh."

A part of you is relieved to know that he was never really angry. Another part of you despises him for viewing you as something so fragile and pathetic. And then there is a third part of you from the inside, who knew that he was right. You had been compared to a ticking time bomb before, it was not new information.

"I'm sorry I made you think I was mad." He spoke again after a moment of silence. Your eyes strayed from his face to your lap, unable to meet his gaze.

He watches the way your face scrunces up in a thoughtful manner and gently places a hand on your thigh hesitantly. "I don't mean it in a bad way, I'm just, not that good with words sometimes."

Your face is relaxed as you look back up again, acceptant to the things he had said. "I get what you mean." You told him, the aggressiveness from before already melting back into passivity. "I'm sorry too, I know I can be a lot."

His free hand moved to caress the right side of your cheek. "You're not, we're both juat doing what we know as best as we can." You nodded and offered him a half smile.

He pulls you into a hug, the seating arrangement making it a bit hard, but the two of you pulled through. "My mom's angry I'm here." You mumbled into his chest.

Jacaerys' brows knitted together. "Why? She doesn't like me or something?" Be feels you shake your head no. "She doesn't even know you. She just thinks every decision I make is a bad one." He didn't know what to say to that.

He's never met your family before, but it was obvious that you were raised in a very different environment than he was.

He also understood that you've always had a certain way dealing with negative things in your life, a certain perspective that makes your choices understandable.

"Did she want you to come home?" You answered no. "She doesn't care if I come home or not, and yet for some reason she's upset that I chose to be here instead of going back home."

"She sounds like a bitch, I'm gonna be honest." You snorted out a laugh as you pulled away before he could regret his words. "She is."

"So, what are you going to do?" You shrugged with a sigh. "Nothing. That's what I always do." You've given up trying to defend yourself years ago. Arguing with your mother never ends well because she doesn't argue to understand, she argues to win. "Some people are worth fighting for, but not everyone is worth fighting with."

He says nothing, staring at you from his seat. You wanted to ask him if he understood what you mean, if he understood that the person you mentioned worth fighting for was him, but just not against your mother. But you were already so sick and tired of talking about her.

She's like some sort of negative charge around you, even the thought of her brings darkness and gloom. "It doesn't matter what she thinks. Because in the end of the day, I'm the one who chose to be here, and I haven't regret it so far." His face broke into a grin at that. "No?"

"No." You repeated surely. "Hmm." He ponders. "Does that mean you're up for a repeat next year?" You raise a brow at that. "This year's one isn't even finished, you're already planning for next year's?"

"Of course."

"How do you know if I'll still be around next year?" You weren't sure what kind of answer you were expecting. It was some sort of test, not just for him, but for you too. "Because I know I love you. And I know you love me too."

"Love is a big word." You noted after considering his confession fairly. In most situations regarding intimacy and vulnerability, you'd always find yourself to be stuck in between the flight or fight mode. But this time, you're sitting down with it and letting yourself indulge the possibilities.

"Are you making fun of my vocabulary or are you questioning my sincerity." Oh. that sentence overall were all big words for him you fought over the grin threatening to appear.

"I'm questioning your assumption that I feel the same way as you."

"Well," he starts, "-you're here with me right now aren't you?" He says it in a matter of factly tone, leaning in towards you, wiggling his brows. "That means nothing." You countered his defense.

"If I kiss you right now, would it mean nothing?" The question was so sudden, you scoffed in face for all the words you're unable to say. "If you kiss me right now, it's because I'm letting you do it."

"Because you love me." You relented and matched his smile. "I love...your mother. And I love your siblings." He eyes you suspiciously. "But what I feel for you surpasses the word love." It was cheesy, it was childish, it was you laying your heart out for him and not being ashamed of it.

"Tomato, tomahto. I call it love, you call it whatever you just did." He muttered back His lips captures yours right after. Your palms finds the sides of his face as he kisses you deeper.

You don't hesitate to climb up from your seat to his own. You feel his fingers gripping your waist as you settle yourself over his lap, pushing the headrest down with a freehand, he lets you take the lead as his fingers moves lower to grip on your hips.

There was nothing soft about the kiss, your tongues danced with his and your teeth clashes together. He made sure that there would be no gap between you two. You gasp out for air once you pull away to slip your sweater off of you. You pull your pants down easily along with your underwear.

"Thank god for tinted windows, huh?" He whispers to you breathily as he discards his own clothes and zip open his trousers.

Your response to that joke is to push him back against the seat to kiss him stronger than before. "Jesusfuckingchrist." He swore against your lips when you begin to ground yourself against his hard on.

He lifte his hips up to meet your grinding, the sensation of your bare pussy against his cock. His fingers squeezes into the skin of your ass, making you whine out loudly. "Fuck- I need you." You moaned deliriously humping on him like your life depends on it.

He pulls his cock out of his boxers fully, pushing it inside your wet squelching cunt. He groaned into your ear as you hid your head by his neck. Your hands held onto his shoulders as your hips jumped up and down on his cock. His grip on you is bruising, but it only added to the pleasure.

You feel the head of his penis hitting your clit harshly every time you sink down fully on it. Jacaerys is grunting out your name repeatedly like prayers in the dark and throwing his head back, lost in the pleasure.

"God- Ah, Jace-" He relishes the noises you make as you squeezes his cock with your warm, tight pussy. "So good." It's driving him insane and he's almost breathless as you continue to pleasure yourself using him to get yourself off. "Fuck, baby." He growled.

You held each other through your orgasm, biting into his neck when you felt relief pass through you. That's gonna leave a mark, you thought. But the night was still bright, snow still falling, and neither of you had much energy left to care.

—

“Jacaerys, we have the heater on, why are you wearing a turtleneck?” Rhaenyra asks as she bring over the big plate of lemon cake to the table. “I like this turtleneck,” was his response to her. A terrible excuse, but she asked nothing more.

You helped her set the table while Jacaerys went over to his brothers’ rooms to wake them up. You could hear him yelling from upstairs, “It’s Christmas morning, get up!”

You refuse to admit to him that te Christmas spirit had gotten into you. Preparing the plates around each seat, you are more excited for the gift unwrapping that’ll be done after breakfast. And the snowball fight. Since when did you become so excited for snowball fights? Since you closed your eyes and tried to imagine this kind of life going on for years and realized that you want nothing less than it.

The kids came running down the stairs, bouncing in every step. “Don’t jump Joffrey, you’ll fall.” Rhaenyra chastised. Lucerys and Joffrey rushed to their seat, Jace following close from behind. “Hurry up, I want to open the presents.” Luc rushed. “You’ll get your presents sooner or later. Now, please eat breakfast slowly, I don’t need you choking on your meals at 9am.” His father’s voice boomed from the hallway as he entered the kitchen.

He had been out all day, buying stocks of eggs and flour for Rhaenyra to use.

“Alright, alright-“ Rhaenyra spoke, sitting down alongside everyone at last. “Who’s gonna say the prayers today? Luc?” The boy immediately shook his head. “I’ll do it.” Jace offered, his mother looked internally grateful. “Alright, go on.”

He takes a deep breath before he holds his fists together and closed his eyes, everyone but you followed through. You watch him begin to thank god for the food on the table and for his family’s good health and fortune before he goes on to thank god for his beautiful girlfriend. Luc mutters out an ‘ew’, which Jacaerys quickly retorts back ‘You just don’t have a girlfriend that’s why you’re jealous.” In the middle of his prayer, earning a warning ‘Jace…’ from his mother.

In the meantime, you were grateful that all of their eyes were closed, so that they wouldn’t be able to see your wide smile and flushed cheeks. I don’t have much faith in god these days, but I’d burn a prayer or two for you, you thought to yourself. And you meant it.

Once he ends his prayers with an Amen, he opens his eyes to connect them with yours first before the silent moment shared was broken by everyone else’s eagerness to eat.

They had not understood the meaning between your shared glances with him. How it was a way for him to tell you that you, just like his family, is his priority. They also don’t know how you had blocked your whole family’s contact list for good. And when you had told him of your action that morning, he looked at you so reassuringly and told you that as long as is he alive, you would never be without a family.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #jace velaryon x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #game of thrones #harry collett

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