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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 3 years ago

Text

Right In Front Of Me

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 & KO / @thirteenisles

Relationship: Married; Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: The only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. Courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a Viscount. Surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. Or the one where your arranged marriage with Anthony Bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Smut. Unprotected sex. Mentioned loss of virginity. Period typical misogyny and gender roles. Major character injury. Men are dicks. Nightmares. Mentioned menstruation. Pregnancy.

Comments: Absolutely no one come for me for this. It’s not period accurate (tho neither is the show). We decided to take liberties and make it our own and we had fun writing it and that’s what counts. This ended up way longer then intended! And yes, I will be working on my legit WIPs soon because I’m SO close to being finished with this term!

do not repost, do not claim as your own

Tolerable. Dutiful. Suitable enough hips for childbearing. And at least half a brain.

Anthony did not feel as if he was being unreasonable in his search for a wife, but he struggled to find a single woman that ticked all his boxes. Especially the first and last box.

Women, as he soon realized, were searching for a love match while all he was searching for was someone to fill a role he could not shake, no matter how much he wished he could. Love was irrational. Overrated. It wasn’t something Anthony believed in or had the desire to believe in, and most definitely not a requirement for having children.

The only way he could rationally find a suitable wife, then, was by removing love from the equation all together. Courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a Viscount. Surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it.

Once he wed, bed, and bred her and had an heir, his role would be fulfilled and he would be free from being pestered from his mama.

And so, he found you. Young, beautiful, suitable hips for childbearing, smart, and, more importantly, tolerable. It only took one conversation with you for him to know you’d make the perfect Viscountess, so after two chaperoned outings, he asked your father for your hand and your father was quick to agree and marry you off. You would not find a better match than a Viscount.

The wedding came quicker than you were prepared for, and after repeating vows that did not reach either of your eyes, you became his wife, his Viscountess.

But, despite being married to the man, Anthony Bridgerton was a stranger to you. You hoped that after marrying him, he would open up to you some, but you were wrong. Even though you were his wife, Lord Bridgerton was cold and distant. You didn’t even feel comfortable calling him Anthony.

His mother, Violet, was kind. His siblings were welcoming and you felt as if you could become friends with them at least. You could only hope that friendship with his family and, hopefully, eventually with him, along with children, would make you happy. Or at least fulfilled.

It could be worst, you told yourself time and again. Your father could have married you off to Lord that was ugly or dreadfully old. Lord Bridgerton… At least he was a younger. And a Viscount. And easy on the eyes.

It could be worse.

It could definitely be worst.

But that didn’t make waking up in a new bed in a new house with a husband that didn’t truly care for you any easier.

Why Anthony didn’t put you in a different room was beyond you when he could barely muster a few words to you and always came to bed long after you had gone to sleep and would always be gone before you woke up.

Still, even if your husband was absent, you didn’t sleep well because the room and bed didn’t feel like yours, and the man in bed next to you was a stranger.

And it wasn’t for your lack of trying. You tried to spark conversation every day but never got much of a response. He always had some excuse of being busy and it hurt you deeply. So, you did the only thing you really could and threw yourself into being a Viscountess. You were in charge of house now and you knew how much the house and Bridgerton name meant to Violet, so you started to bond with her while you learned how to be the lady of the house, and it was the only thing keeping you from going insane.

Just as you were getting to know Violet, she got to know you and it annoyed her to no end that her son was treating you the way he was. More than a few times she scolded Anthony for his behaviour, but she never seemed to get through to him.

“I cannot fathom why you will not get to know your wife and ignore her as you do. Your father would be so disappointed,” Violet snapped at her son one day after she marched into Anthony’s office when he brushed off your conversation attempts over breakfast.

Anthony took a moment to look up from his ledger books and meet his mother’s harsh gaze. “The only reason I have a wife is because you all but forced my hand. I told you I never wanted to marry,” he told her, purposefully choosing to ignore her comment about Edmund.

“Anthony… Surely you do not want to be alone for the rest of your life. She’s such a lovely girl. She reminds me of you when you were younger and free. She gets along with your siblings and is trying her hardest to get to know you. The least you can do is give her the courtesy of that,” Violet replied with a disappointed sigh.

“I’m not alone,” he replied simply. “I have my family, and a wife now. That does not mean I have to love her.”

“Well at least talk to the poor girl!” It was ridiculous she had to all but beg her son to talk to the woman he married. “Be friends with her at least. She’s under the impression you hate her.”

Her words made Anthony take a deep breath through his nose as his gaze flickered back down to his books. He didn’t hate you. He married you because he didn’t hate you, because you were tolerable. He just—

He didn’t love you and he didn’t want to love you.

No matter how much he didn’t want to, he remembered every moment of the day Edmund died and all the days that came after and the heartbreak his mother went through and the grief he was not allowed to feel as the man of the house. That pain… It was not a pain he could ever bare to experience again and a pain he never wanted anyone else to feel because of him.

Keeping you at arm’s length was easier. Safer.

Eventually that would be something you understood. You had to.

Except that regardless of the weeks that had passed since the wedding and the distance he tried desperately to keep between you, you did not stop trying. Lord Bridgerton was your husband and his mother kept encouraging you to try, kept reassuring you that he was simply being difficult and eventually he would come around. Benedict, Colin, Eloise, even Hyacinth, they told you nearly the same thing: Anthony was a stubborn, difficult, and foolish man. But he was also kind and loving and he chose you to be his wife for a reason. He had to.

So, when time for dinner came around and Anthony was yet to show his face and a maid asked if she should retrieve him, you decided you would be the one to get him. You were still getting used to the house that seemed to go on forever, but you knew the way to his office because of the countless times you had walked to the door only to return to bed without knocking.

This time, however, you knocked on his office door before cracking it open and stepping in. “Lord Bridgerton?” You could call him Anthony, everyone called him Anthony, but it didn’t feel right. You only knew ‘Anthony’ from his mother and siblings. “We’re all having family dinner tonight, I thought I’d come and fetch you, if you’ll be joining us?”

Anthony glanced up at you and was quick to check the time before rubbing his forehead because he hadn’t realized it was so late. He still had much to do so he opened his mouth to tell you he would not be joining because he was busy, but he could already picture the glare he’d receive from his mother so he clamped his mouth shut with a reluctant nod. “Very well.”

His response pulled a small smile from you and you walked in step with him down the hall to the dining room. “Did you have a good day?” You asked, looking over at him.

Anthony had to take a deep breath before he forced a smile. “Busy day,” is all he replied.

It was a short reply, but it was still a reply which was more than you had previously gotten from him, so you decided to keep going. You gave him a smile as you nodded, “I had a good day. Your sisters and I went into town today. Hyacinth and Francesca bought new dresses for the races that are coming up.”

“And you as well?” He asked. Surely you had gotten a new dress too and he would have to make note of the expenses after dinner.

“Oh, no, I did not get anything,” you replied, your smile becoming more strained. You did not think you would be attending the races. Staying home, running the house, or perhaps even reading a book; there were plenty of ...better and more productive ways for you to spend your time than attending the races you did not care about when you already knew he wouldn’t be talking to you.

Anthony paused mid step to turn and look at you, “you do not need to ask me to get a new dress.”

You stopped too and looked at him before replying, “I didn’t not buy a dress because I thought I needed you permission, Lord Bridgerton. I did not get a dress because there is no point in me getting one.”

Your reply caught him off guard and his mouth hung open for moment before he regained his composure. “Did you not just say the races are coming up?”

“Yes, I did. And you and the family will be going to that,” you told him. You had already expressed to Violet that as much as you would like to go and be a part of the family you married into, you didn’t think Anthony would like you there so you were going to stay behind and tend to the house. Afterall, that was your role as Viscountess. “There are many things that need to be taken care of in the house so I will be staying behind to make sure they’re done. Your mother wants to throw a ball in honour of Eloise’s season and things must be perfect.”

Your words had him scrunching his nose in disagreement, “if we are to attend the races, I will need my wife by my side.”

“For all of five minutes for show before you’re off with the boys and placing wagers and enjoying your time and I will not see you again until it is time to leave?” You didn’t know what came over you but you snapped as you look at him. For weeks now you’ve tried everything in your power to get him to so much as look at you with no success and now he ‘needs’ you? No. “My father treated me like a show horse growing up and quite frankly I’m tired of being treated like one when it’s convenient for you,” you told him before turning and continuing into the dining room and sitting down.

Honestly, Anthony was more than taken back by your words and he stood there for a long moment, clenching his jaw as he processed what you had told him before he followed you into the dining room. His eyes were on you the whole time as he sat down at the head of the table, and even if you didn’t look back at him, you felt the tension. Everyone in the room felt the tension.

Dinner was quiet. No one dared to speak up. Usually you always attempted conversation, but tonight you didn’t so much as look at Anthony, which did not go unmissed by anyone. And they certainly did not miss the way Anthony kept his eyes on you.

But, eventually Anthony cleared his throat and he pulled his eyes away from you to look at his little sister, “Hyacinth, I heard you got a new dress today.”

The tension was still pliable but conversation was welcomed and Hyacinth perked up. “I did brother, it’s beautiful,” she told him before looking over at you and she said your name. “She helped pick it out.”

It was an innocent comment and he knew that, but it still had Anthony looking down at his dinner and he rather aggressively cut his meat. “How thoughtful of her.”

“She does have a rather good eye,” Violet spoke up with a strained smile “She came up with a beautiful concept for Eloise’s ball.”

Eloise immediately groaned and cut in. “I have told yo—” she started but Anthony cut her off with a sharp look before looking over to you.

“And will you be getting a new dress for that?” He asked pointedly.

You didn’t look at him as you focused on cutting your food, “I am the lady of the house and in charge of throwing this ball and will be a host, so yes.”

“And yet you will not attend the races?” He asked with an edge, cocking his head to the side.

You tightened your grip your fork and kept your gaze down at your plate, “I already informed you that I cannot. I’m sure I will not be missed.”

“Cannot or will not?” He shot back, gripping his fork just as tightly.

Finally, you lifted your eyes to meet his and gave him a tight smile, “I’m sure you will survive without me there, My Lord. You already do a great job at that.”

He put his fork down with enough force that it clanged against his plate. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, his jaw tightening as he looked at you. Violet tried her best to change the subject, mentioning how lovely diner tasted, but it didn’t pull either of you from the standoff you two were engaged in. “What is that supposed to mean?” He repeated himself, demanding an answer from you.

“It means exactly what it means. You act like I don’t exist!” You finally snapped at him.

Anthony clenched his jaw as he took a deep breath. “Perhaps we should take this into the other room,” he said and he called you by your name, but the edge in his voice still lingered.

“Why bother? You never have anything to say to me anyway. In fact, this is the most you’ve spoken to me since we married. It would have been better off if we hadn’t in the first place!” You all but shouted at Anthony. You knew you shouldn’t be airing it out like this in front of his family but you lost control for a moment before you forced yourself to take a deep breath and you turned to look at his family with a forced smile. “My apologies. I think I’m going to retire to bed now,” you told him before standing up and leaving the room as quickly as you could without running, not bothering to look at Anthony as you headed to the bedroom upstairs. It wasn’t like he would be joining you. He never did.

Except, this time Anthony was hot on your heels as he excused himself from the table and headed after you. He called your name a few times, but it only had you walked faster and he grabbed your wrist to make you stop and look at him. He was quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say before he eventually got out, “that is what you want then? To not be married?”

“It’s not like you want to be married either,” you countered, trying to pull your wrist free from his grip, not that it was any use. He was much stronger than you. “Clearly I make you miserable. You do not need to physically say it to me for me to know it. The only time you’ll want to be around me is when you decide when you want heirs, otherwise my existence means nothing to you, unless it’s to show face.”

“Is that not what a marriage is?” Anthony replied immediately. That was what marriage meant to him. “I provide for you, we have children, and we present ourselves as a family?”

It felt like you were talking to a brick wall. “Is everything just business to you? Is that what you think? That marriage is just a business transaction? Do you even have any love in your heart for anyone besides your family?” You asked, your voice softening out of pity. If he truly did not know love, you pitied him.

Anthony was quiet for a moment before he took a deep breath. “The only thing love is good for is causing heartache,” he told you, his voice painfully empty. Somehow it hurt more. At least if he was angry he was displaying some emotion, but this… the void… It was apathy and not hate that was the opposite of love. He did not say anything else to you before he let go of your wrist and turned to head back towards his office.

“It does not have to be, if you’re willing to let someone in,” you forced yourself to tell him. Anthony paused mid step, but only for a moment before he continued on to his office and he didn’t bother turning to look back at you.

It was your turn to clench your jaw as you shook your head and turned to continue towards the bedroom. He was so… so… aggravating. Talking to him was like talking to a brick wall and for what? What was the point? He was never going to love you.

You closed the door softly behind you before getting ready for bed alone, even if you weren’t tired. The bed was large and unfamiliar and cold and you hated every second of it. You knew what he was like before you married him, his reputation more than proceeded him. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was a capital-R Rake and the whole Ton knew it. You knew it. You knew he was cold, but it wasn’t like you truly had a choice in the arrangement. He had asked your father for your hand and your father had made it clear to you that you were going to say yes to Lord Bridgerton when he asked. You would be provided for, and your marriage to the Bridgertons would reflect well for your family.

You had only hoped there was at least a flicker of kindness in his heart.

But you were wrong.

You felt the first prickles of tears at your eyes and you were quick to wipe them away. You would not give him the satisfaction of shedding tears over him. Only, no matter how many times you wiped your eyes, the tears would not stop until you were sobbing. You didn’t remember it, but eventually the sobs exhausted you and fell asleep with tear stained cheeks.

Anthony never went to bed that night. Instead, he chose to sleep in his office because he didn’t want to face you. Couldn’t face you. But it wasn’t like he got much sleep anyway because he was up almost all night replaying the words you said to him and what his mother had told him.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, it simultaneously felt like the longest and fastest night of his life. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before when he arrived for breakfast expecting to already see you there, but you weren’t. And you never did show for breakfast, and somehow that was worse.

The whole table was quiet and Anthony didn’t have to look up from his plate to know he was getting a harsh look from his mother. He gripped his utensils tightly in his hands but he only managed a few bites before he looked over at his mother, “whatever you want to say, just say it mother.” He knew he was going to get a lecture and, quite honestly, he cared more about getting it over with than what she actually had to say about his behaviour.

“I think you already know what I want to say, Anthony,” she told him, surprisingly evenly. “But I know I raised you better than this and she deserves better than the likes of how you’re currently treating her.”

“Then what would you have me do?” He didn’t snap, but it came out harsher than he intended.

“Talk to her! Apologize! Get to know her!” Violet pleaded.

Anthony spared himself a moment to compose himself and released a deep breath before he replied, “and what if I do not desire to do so?”

“Then you will end up being alone and miserable for the rest of your life. It’s your decision to make, Anthony. I just wish you could see how much you’re hurting yourself and her.”

For a half moment, Anthony’s expression crumbled, but whatever it was that slipped through the cracks, he was quick to bottle it up. “It was never my intention to hurt her,” he said, keeping his voice even.

“And yet you have and continue to do so. She has been trying so hard to get to know you and you won’t let her in. I can see how much it hurts her every time you have been dismissive or ignored her completely,” Violet told him plainly, trying to get through to him.

“It is fine.” You spoke up, your voice robotic. You didn’t want to come down for breakfast, but you hadn’t finished your dinner the night before and you were quite hungry so you decided to brave the dining room. That was a mistake. “If Lord Bridgerton does not wish to get to know me he does not have to. I am his wife. He provides, eventually I will have children and we present as a family. I am headed out to go get a dress for the races, seeing it is my duty to show up for the family,” your voice was cold as you spoke before you turned and headed towards the front door. You were most definitely not in the mood to go dress shopping and the idea of having to fane being in love with him at the races vexed you to no end, but at least dress shopping meant you wouldn’t be around Anthony.

The glare Anthony received from Violet could look through someone’s soul and he rolled his eyes as he sighed before he pushed himself up from his seat. “Wait,” he called after you. “I would like to accompany you.”

“You do not have to. I understand you are busy,” you threw the words that he always told you back at him. “I am perfectly capable of going on my own.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am not busy at this moment then, isn’t it?” He replied with a tight lipped smile and a pointed look that made it clear you would not be winning this fight. It wasn’t like you were in the mood for arguing anyway, so you shook your head as you sighed and headed outside and got in the carriage. Anthony was right behind you and he took his seat across from you, the tension pliable in the small space.

The ride was silent and you spent it looking out the window the whole time, refusing to even look at him. Anthony, on the other hand, did not pull his eyes from you. Though, it wasn’t like he spoke up either.

The ride felt entirely too long, but eventually you got to the modiste. Anthony was the first to get out of the carriage and despite the ongoing argument, he was a gentleman and offered you his hand as you got out. Not that you took it, the corner of your mouth twitching up at the surprised expression that took over his face when you didn’t take his hand and continued into the modiste and Anthony hurried after you.

Anthony had never been to the modiste before. It was not his place, and he was very much reminded of that as soon as he stepped in. But, between all the frilly fabrics and his mother… Yeah, he’d rather be surrounded by the fabrics. Even if he had never felt so out of place in his life.

He was tense as he sat on the bench and watched Madame Delacroix pin you in a beautiful green dress and before she asked if you like it.

“Yes. Yes, it is lovely,” you replied with a smile, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes. And Anthony could see that through the mirror.

“You do look lovely, dear,” he spoke up, surprising both you and Madame Delacroix.

For a moment, anger flashed in your eyes because you knew he didn’t mean it, but you had to force your anger down as you plastered an even faker smile on your lips so you could play your part, “thank you, My Lord.”

“I wonder, though,” Anthony continued, ignoring the sharp look in your eye. “If lilac might be better suited for you.”

Even though you could see him through the mirror, his comment had you turning to look at him out of shock. When you did not object, Madame Delacroix was quick to nod. “Perhaps you are correct, Lord Bridgerton. I do have a beautiful lilac dress I think you would like,” Madame Delacroix told you with a strained smile before she took your hand and led you back behind the curtain to change into the new dress.

It took several minutes for her to unpin you from the old dress and dress you into the new one, and every minute seemed longer than the last for Anthony. There was so much he could be doing right now than sit on the bench watching you try on dresses it was aggravating.

But, when the curtain was finally pulled back and you stepped out onto the podium in that lilac dress, it was the first time Anthony’s breath caught in his throat. The lilac did look good on you, better so than the green. You even noticed it yourself.

“Yes, I think this dress is much better suited for you and you will definitely stand out at the races, no?” Madame Delacroix said as she fussed with the skirt.

“Yes,” Anthony replied for you before clearing his throat. “You look stunning.”

You didn’t expect those words from him and for a moment it made your stomach flip with hope that you were finally getting somewhere with him. But just as quickly as the hope came, it was gone as you remembered you were in public and nothing he said or did was true. It was just an act. It was always just an act.

But, the dress did look lovely so when you told Madame Delacroix that you loved it, you at least were being truthful.

On the day of the races, you were one of the last ones to come down the stairs as you helped Hyacinth with her hair. But when you did… Anthony was finally starting to see you because, for the first time, he could not take his eyes off you. Watching you come down the stairs in that lilac dress and your hair perfectly styled…

This whole time he had been looking at you without seeing you, and looking at you now his jaw was slack because you… You really were beautiful.

He followed your every step down the stairs with his eyes, only snapping out of it when you walked past his mother and he caught look she gave him. He was quick to look away as he cleared his throat before getting into the carriage and sitting down across from you.

It was an unfortunately long trip to the races, and it didn’t help that it was scorching outside. You kept fanning yourself, but you weren’t getting any cooler. Especially with Anthony’s eyes on you practically the whole way there.

Getting to the races only made you hotter with no shade from the blistering heat. “Would you like some lemonade?” Anthony asked, leaning into you.

You were surprised that he asked, but you nodded, “that sounds refreshing, thank you.”

Anthony nodded heading off to retrieve you a glass of lemonade. He was only gone a few moments, but when he returned, he found another man was actively pursuing you. He was clearly standing a step or two closer to you than he needed to, talking to you, making you laugh and smile.

It wasn’t like Anthony was courting you and another man could win you away from him. You were his wife. You were his Viscountess. And another man thought it was alright to pursue you? No.

Anthony didn’t know what came over him but he wasn’t subtle in the way he came up to you and handed you your glass of lemonade with a bitter smile and a, “here you are dear wife of mine.”

“Oh, thank you, My Lord,” you said as you took the glass and took a much needed sip. “As I was saying,” you started as you turned back to the other Lord. “I must be off, my family and I have box seats.” You took another sip before taking Anthony’s arm, “we should join them, yes?”

He didn’t have to, but he pulled you a little closer as he nodded and shot the other Lord a glare over your head, “yes, indeed we should.”

You waited until you had walked a distance away before you asked, “are you alright?” You had never seen him so upset before.

“Huh? Oh, yes, of course. Fine,” He replied, but you watched as he flexed his jaw. “Some people are just raised like animals it seems.”

“What do you mean by that?” You asked immediately.

“You are a Viscountess, my wife, and yet he thought it fine to pursue you,” Anthony replied as you reached your seats and he turned to look into your eyes.

You immediately furrowed your brow, “he was not. He was asking how the family was and whether or not it would be appropriate to pursue Eloise. I promptly told him, that she would not give him the time of day and that he would have to go through you in order to do so.”

“I—“ Anthony opened and closed his mouth, having nothing to say before he ran his hand over his face, unable to look at you. He believed you, but that meant… He knew that everyone knew you were married to him, so why would he jump to assume that a Lord talking to you meant they wanted you? It was very warm out, the heat must have been getting to him and he shook his head, “very well. And you are quite right. She would not give him the time of day.”

You nodded, “I think I would know your sister well enough by now considering I have been living with you all for several months now.” You let go of his arm and stepped into the sectioned off box with the rest of his family before you took your fan out and started fanning yourself.

As soon as the races started the whole family got involved. You tried to do so as well, but there were so many people and you did not know the horses as they others did and the sun was so hot. The lemonade had only done so much and the heat was starting to get to you.

You felt yourself get dizzy and you squinted as you glanced up at the sun, hoping to see clouds, but the sky was perfectly clear. Everyone was too focused on the race to notice you bring your hand up to your head when the dizziness got worse. Everything around you started to go blurry and all the noise around you went fuzzy making your chest tighten with fear. The last thing you remembered was reaching out to Anthony before the whole world went black.

The tug on his jacket sleeve surprised him and he looked over at you, his smile immediately slipping at how unwell you look. He said your name but it was no use, you were already fainting. Anthony was quick to catch you, cradling you in his arms, one hand cupping your face as he repeated your name over and over, but no matter how desperate he was for you to wake, you didn’t respond.

Everything around him went fuzzy as he looked down at you before he scooped you up, one arm under your knees, the other around your shoulders. He didn’t remember it, but he shouted at the rest of his family about going home and needing a doctor before he headed for the carriage, and he cradled you in his arms the whole way back home.

He never wanted to get to know you or love you because that pain his mother went through with Edmund… That was a pain he could never bare to go through. But no matter how much he tried to keep you at arms length for that reason, his hands shook with fear of losing you now.

Everything was a blur for him as he carried you to the bedroom and the doctor came and examined you, but nothing went fast enough for him and you never woke up.

“A fever, My Lord, possibly induced by the heat,” The doctor told him and wrung out a cold cloth and placed it on your forehead. “I’m sure it’ll pass in a day or so, but she should rest. Call me if anything changes.” Anthony could only nod and thank him before he turned back to you.

Anthony struggled with every breath he took because of how tight his chest was seeing you like that. He just needed you to wake up and be alright.

He never left your side, and he even changed the cool cloth himself, snatching it from whichever maid tried to do it for him. They could never do it right. He, on the other hand, was gentle and with every fresh cool cloth, he gently wiped your forehead down to your temple.

He always knew you to be pretty, that was one of the few reasons he picked you to be his wife. You had a pleasing face and would produce good children. But, wiping your forehead with the cool cloth he saw just how beautiful you were, and how kind and sensible you were.

His plan was to have no feelings so he couldn’t get hurt, but his mother was right, he ended up hurting you both.

Now you laid there flushed and struggling to recover from a high fever. There were moments where you were conscious but it was completely fevered induced and you couldn’t even speak, just incoherent whispers and groans of pain before you would slip under again. But Anthony refused to leave your side and he blamed himself for this. You did not even want to go to the races and he forced you and now you laid in bed with a fever that would not break and it terrified him.

He couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t.

But all his attention and care paid off and your fever finally broke.

When you opened your eyes, they were clearer than the previous times and Anthony perked up. He said your name a few times as he reached for you and he pressed his hand to your forehead to check your temperature before he cupped your cheek. “Are you with me?” He asked, wondering if you’d go back under again.

You were exhausted but you focused on him. You could feel his hand on your cheek and you could see the worry in his eyes. “I am,” you croaked out.

His shoulders relaxed as he lets out a relieved breath and he was quick to tell a maid to get you some water before asking you, “how are you feeling?”

“Exhausted. And sweaty,” you tell him honestly. “What happened? Did I fall ill?”

“You fainted,” he told you slowly. “At the races, two days ago.”

Your eyes widened, “I fainted? I was out for two days?” You had never fainted before and it made your stomach twist as you realized the embarrassment you must have caused the family because you couldn’t handle the heat. “I apologize if I caused a scene, My Lord.”

“Don’t— Don’t apologize,” he whispered immediately, shaking his head as he brushed your hair back. “I’m just glad you’re alright. I was… You gave us all quite the scare,” he was quick to correct himself.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to make you all worried over me,” you said softly but Anthony kept shaking his head.

“All that matters is that you are alright,” he repeated.

You nodded slowly, but struggled to wrap your head around what was going on. Just days ago he wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence and now here he was clearly tired and distressed and seemed to be the one who made sure you would wake up again.

What had changed?

You had no idea of all the repressed emotions and memories you pulled from Anthony when you fainted and just how completely and utterly afraid he was of losing you. It didn’t matter how much distance he tried to put between you, you were still his wife and he cared for you more than he had admitted to himself. It was just unfortunate that it took seeing you in that state for him to realize it, but he cared for you.

You recovered over the next few days and Anthony took care of you. The fever had taken so much energy out of you, and Anthony would barely leave your side unless he truly had to.

It was only on the fourth day after you woke up that he pulled himself away to tend to the ledger books. He woke early, wanting to get it done before you woke so he could continue to care of you, but, like always, he lost track of time and by the time he was able to return to you, he found the bed empty.

He froze as soon saw that the bed was unmade and he when he realized you weren’t in the room a panic started to creep up his beck. Rationally he should have known that you were probably up and about, especially with the sheets being stripped, but he struggled to push the panic down as he called your name in the empty room. He called your name a few times before he heard your voice from the washroom.

“In here, My Lord,” he heard, your voice muffled by the door. It was the washroom, and sure you were his wife, but he still shouldn’t have barged through the door, but he couldn’t stop himself. His shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath when he saw you laying in the copper tub. He should have looked away as soon as he realized how …exposed you were, but the water came up to just below your shoulders and the water was soapy enough to cover you. The water made your skin shine and you had a small, beautiful smile, and your hair was damp and unstyled, and a he watched as a single line of water ran down your shoulder from your hair down to the very top of your breast.

“I felt disgusting after sweating so much, I just needed a bath,” you explained to him with a small smile. The bath truly was the best you had felt the last few days. “Are you alright?” You asked when he didn’t say anything or move from the doorway.

“Yes, yes I am fine. Just relieved that you’re okay,” he replied, his eyes snapping up to yours with a strained smile, his throat a lot drier than it was a minute ago.

“I am,” You replied softly. “I feel much better, thanks to you.” There was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach doing summersaults, but you didn’t want to question it.

The last time he saw you like this, or saw you close to this, was your wedding night. But that was long ago and it wasn’t like he was paying attention more than consummating the marriage. He tried to make it decent for you, try to make it not hurt, but he didn’t feel for you then what he felt for you now.

Now, he couldn’t help but tug at the top of his collared shirt and he averted his eyes when he realized how flustered seeing you this exposed was making him. “Well, I, uh— I am glad. Breakfast is ready when you are,” he told you before he dipped his head and left the washroom, closing the door behind him before he leaned back against it and took a deep breath.

The corner of your lip twitched up as you watched him leave. In all the months you’ve known him, Anthony had never been anything more than indifferent to you, but now he was caring for you. And the way he pulled at his collar gave you stirred something in you that hadn’t been stirred before.

You didn’t stay long in the bath, not wanting to risk overheating, and a maid helped you dress in something light and not too tight before you made your way down to the dining room, accompanied by a maid in case you fell.

As soon as Violet saw you, she smiled brightly and said your name, “it’s so wonderful to see you up and about. Are you feeling better?”

At his mother’s words, Anthony’s head snapped up and he was quick to get up. He walked over to you and took you from the maid and helped you over to the seat next to his and tucked you into the table before retaking his seat. “Yes, much better, thank you,” you replied to her, but you couldn’t pull your eyes from Anthony

He was more attentive to you over breakfast than he had in all the months of marriage before you fainted combined. He seemed to be watching your every move with concerned eyes and it made you smile.

After breakfast, Violet asked if you’d be joining them in the drawing room. “Actually, I think I’m in much need of some fresh air. I think I shall like to sit outside in the garden for a bit this morning,” you replied with a smile and you saw the way Anthony tensed out of the corner of your eye. “Under some shade of course,” you added when you looked over at him.

“Then I shall accompany you,” he said immediately. A maid could have accompanied you, but it wouldn’t do. He was not letting you out of his sight, especially outside.

You didn’t recognize the man before you, he was so different from the man you thought you married. Everything he did seemed to take you by surprise, but you smiled, “I’d like that.”

Anthony returned your smile and he could feel his mother’s eyes on him and he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Shall we?” He asked another a moment and when you nodded, he stood up from the table before helping you up and he took your arm in his as helped you outside to the big tree where you two sat down on a bench. Despite the warm weather, there was a really nice breeze and you let your eyes close for a moment as you soaked it in.

“You look much better,” he said softly after a few minutes had past, breaking the silence.

His voice made you open your eyes and you looked over at him with a soft smile, “I feel much better.”

“I am very glad to hear that,” he smiled back.

It was nice to actually see him smile and look happy for once. “You have a very nice smile, My Lord,” you replied after a small pause.

He was taken back by your comment, but it still had the corner of his lip twitching up. “So do you,” he replied and said your name softly, making your smile widen. You really liked this side of Anthony and you wanted to see more of it, wanted to get to know him.

Anthony looked at you for a moment before he reached out and touched your forehead to make sure you weren’t overheating and he brushed your hair back when he pulled his hand back before looking away. “I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you since the wedding,” he said softly. There was so much sincerity in his voice, and the way he had been treating you the past few days made you know he was telling the truth.

You gently rested your hand on top of his, “I forgive you.”

“I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he replied immediately, looking down at your hand.

“Anthony…” You finally said his name. “Everyone deserves forgiveness. We are human we are all going make mistakes.”

The use of his name made him look at you. “I thought I was sparing you heartache,” he whispered, finally being honest with you. “I did not realize I was creating it.”

“What matters now is that we’re moving past that. I’m not angry with you or upset,” you replied and gently squeezed his hand.

“You’re not?” He asked surprised.

You shook your head, “no, I am not.”

Anthony could only nod and squeeze your hand back, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t know how you could forgive him so easily. He hadn’t realized how kindhearted you were. “Thank you,” he nodded after a long moment.

You gave him a smile as you nodded before gently resting your head on his shoulder and Anthony let you. He enjoyed sitting there with you in the soft summer breeze more than he wanted to admit. He enjoyed being with you more than he wanted to admit.

He never wanted to leave your side, Anthony realized. He had duties he had to complete, but he did his best to push them off to spend more time with you.

Day and night you were all he seemed to be able to think about.

It was late and he had spent the whole day with you, only tending to the estate’s affairs after dinner and it was well into the night and he knew he needed to sleep, but lying next to you in his bed… He couldn’t.

Anthony couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were right next to him, within arm’s reach and it took everything in him to not reach out and touch you.

He couldn’t sleep he was so overwhelmed in his thoughts of you.

A soft sound pulled him from his thoughts. He thought his mind made it up, or that it was creak from the house, but a second, slightly louder whimper made him sit up as he looked over at you.

You jumped in your sleep, another whimper slipping from your lips as you tossed and Anthony realized quickly you were having a nightmare and he reached over, his hand hovering over your side as he debated what to do. Should he wake you? Or would that startle you worse? No, he should wake you, he couldn’t let you continue having a nightmare.

His touch was soft as he touched your side and he said your name before he rolled you over to his chest. He waited for you to pull yourself away, but you didn’t. He didn’t know if you had awoken or not, but your whimpers and tossing stopped and he couldn’t tell if you pressed yourself closer to him or if was his imagination.

If he couldn’t stop thinking about you before, you absolutely consumed him now that you were pressed flushed against him. He… He really liked the feeling of you in his arms like this. He could get used to it.

This time, when you snuggled yourself a little closer with a content sigh, he knew he wasn’t making it up and his heart stuttered. As much as he tried otherwise and as much as it terrified him… He cared for you deeply and he knew he couldn’t shut you out again.

He knew he had to tell you the truth; tell you how much you had come to mean to him. Anthony just didn’t know how.

Anthony’s moment, it turned out, came late one night a few weeks later after you arrived home from a ball and you were both getting ready for bed.

You had taken your jewelry off and let your hair down, but as when you tried to unzip your dress, the zipper was stuck. This was what a lady’s maid was for, but you had assured her you were fine when you entered your bedroom and you would have to go all the way down to the maids’ rooms for her to help and that was pointless when…

You sighed and opened the washroom door, “Anthony?”

He was down to just his undershirt and he was unbuttoning his cuffs when he looked up and you did your best not to stare. It was improper. But then again… He was your husband. “Yes?” He asked softly.

“The zipper of my dress is stuck, I… I require your help,” you told him before you stepped into the room and over to him and you turned your back to him. You knew it was nowhere near the first dress he had undone. It wasn’t even the first time he had undone your dress.

“Oh,” he swallowed and he nodded even though you couldn’t see him. His touch was light as he brushed your hair over your shoulder and took the zipper between his fingers. You weren’t wrong, the zipper was stuck with fabric in the track and it took him a moment and firm amount of pressure to get it unstuck but then he was drawing it down your back, his eyes eating up all newly exposed skin.

You let out a relieved sigh and thanked him, but you didn’t move. You were frozen to the spot and you could still feel his fingers on your spine. Slowly, you looked over your shoulder at him with a soft smile.

His jaw was slack as he looked at you but he forced himself to meet your eyes. “Do you need anything else?” He asked, his voice soft.

You were quiet for a moment before you took a shaky breath. “Well, My Lord… If you felt so inclined, you could untie… my corset for me?” You asked hopefully, wanting him to undress you. Wanting to feel his hands on your body.

The first time… The first time felt like a lifetime ago and he was such a different man to you now than he was then and you… You wanted to feel him again.

“Ye—“ he cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly very dry. “Yes, of course.”

His fingers were slow but he expertly untied your corset, and he took his time as he pulled the ribbon out each loop, exposing more and more of your skin and his eyes ate it up. He didn’t know what came over him, but he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the nape of your neck sending a shiver through your body and you lean into him, your grip on the front of your dress loosening causing the sleeves to slip down your shoulders.

When you didn’t pull away, he took it as a good sign and he pressed another kiss to your right shoulder and then your left and let a hand trail down your back. Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, and your dress slipped down a little more but you didn’t care.

He pressed another kiss to your skin before he pushed at your dress, pushing down your arms and letting it slip past your hips to pool around your feet before he slowly spun you around. You pressed your hands to his chest out of surprise, but you didn’t push him away and he gently brushed his nose against yours as he looked into your eyes, one hand on your waist and the other your mid back. He was quiet for a moment before he whispered, “may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathed immediately and leaned into him a little more.

His nose brushed against yours again before he kissed you softly and more passionately than all of your other kisses combined. You made a soft sound against his lips as you fisted his shirt and you let yourself melt into the kiss. Anthony kissed you slowly and deeply, keeping you pressed against his body. He had been wanting to kiss you for a while now and he couldn’t believe he had been denying himself of you this long.

The kiss grew more heated by the second before Anthony backed you toward the bed. You broke the kiss when the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed before Anthony laid you back down on the bed and blanketed your body with his own. He recaptured your lips with his and you surprised him when you pulled at his shirt, untucking it from his trousers. He deepened the kiss, nipping softly at your lip when your fingers brushed his stomach and he pulled back to shrug his shirt off.

It was far from the first time you saw your husband without a shirt, but it felt so different this time around and you let your eyes wander down his body before he leaned back over you and kissed you again, letting you feel up his strong chest as his mouth ravaged yours.

It felt good, really good. He felt good. But you needed more. You needed him.

When he pulled back from the kiss, it was only to look deeply into your eyes. “I need you,” he said softly. “May I have you?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Please.”

Anthony nodded at your answer and pressed another, softer kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down your jaw and throat. He pressed his hips into yours, pulling a gasp from you when you felt him through his trousers. It wasn’t the first time you felt him, but this time felt so much different your wedding night you needed him just as bad as he needed you.

Anthony ran his hands down your body, truly feeling you in a way he hadn’t on your wedding night and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken his time with you before, taken the time to make sure everything felt amazing, to worship your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin as his lips reached the top of your chest. His comment pulled a soft sound from your lips and you tried to press your face into his neck. “No, let me look at you, let me see all of you,” he told you, pulling back to tilt your chin back and meet your eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

Anthony’s words made you feel hot. “I would rather you touch me,” you told him boldly, pulling a surprised smile from him.

“I can do that,” he replied before he resumed kissing down your chest and he brought a hand up to touch your breast, your nipple catching between his fingers, pulling a gasp from you.

Your gasp melted into a soft moan and you felt your cheeks blush at the sound. Anthony’s eyes flickered up to yours as he softly rolled your nipple between his fingers before he wrapped his lips around the other, making you all but shout his name as you fisted his hair, needing to hold onto something.

Anthony adored the sounds he pulled from you and switched breasts, wanting to give your chest equal treatment before letting his lips trail down your body. Every touch of his lips made your body feel hotter and you didn’t know it could feel this good, that you could need someone this badly.

He reached the waistband of your underwear and looked back up at you. “Can I take these off?” He asked, his hands coming up to rub your thighs.

You nodded, “please.” Anthony didn’t need to be told twice and gently pulled the garment down your legs and off your body before tossing them aside.

Your legs closed on instinct. Anthony lightly touched your shins, moving his hands up to your knees, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’ll feel good, I promise,” he told you as he resettled between your legs and guided them over his shoulders before kissing your inner thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat with anticipation as he kissed along your inner thigh. “Anthony…” you breathed, making him look up at you.

“Is this alright?” He asked, his mouth inches away from where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you nodded, needing him.

For a moment, he smirked, but then he lowered his mouth to your throbbing core. He flattened his tongue against you and licked up towards your clit. Your hips jumped at the contact and even you were surprised at how loud a sound he pulled from you.

Your legs closed around his head on impulse and Anthony’s grip tightened on your hips for just a second before he let go, reminding himself he had to be gentle with you as he pressed his tongue back to your clit, making you moan. If he could bottle your moans and keep it forever, he would.

You moaned his name when he wrapped his lips around your clit. You didn’t know it could feel this good and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching one of your hands down to run through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands. Anthony groaned against your clit before he reached his hand around your thigh to take your hand and give you something to hold as he took you apart with his tongue.

He was careful to be gentle with you, taking his time to work you up to your high and when your breathing became more uneven, Anthony knew you were close.

He didn’t let up, continuing to trace his tongue over your clit and you came a few moments later, his name falling from your lips. Anthony moaned against you when you came and pulled you closer, loving how you felt cumming on his tongue.

All he could taste and small was you and he could be between your legs forever but you’re too sensitive for him to continue. Your moans turned to whines and you pulled at his hair so Anthony pulled back and mouthed at your inner thigh before he moved up your body and kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on him and wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you.

There was nothing Anthony wanted more than to be inside you, but it had been so long since the first time and he knew you wouldn’t be ready for him.

Slowly, Anthony broke the kiss before moving over your legs to rest beside you on his side. He gently moved his hand down to your thigh and opened your legs more before he moved his gaze back to your eyes. “Alright?” He asked and you nodded quickly.

He gently traced his fingers up your inner thigh and your breath caught in your throat as he touched you, his eyes never leaving yours. He gathered some of your wetness and traced his fingers around your clit before he returned them to your entrance. He pressed one finger into you making you gasp, but your gasp melted into a soft whimper and Anthony pressed his thumb to your clit to distract you.

He pumped his finger gently, letting you adjust to it before he pressed a second finger into you and you whined softly, gripping the sheets at the stretch. “I know,” he whispered, keeping his fingers still to give you a moment to adjust as he lightly ran his thumb over your clit to distract you from the discomfort.

When he saw your grip loosen on the sheets, he started a soft pace with his fingers and he scissored them after a few moments. Your soft moans filled his ears and he curled his fingers up, brushing against your sweet spot. Your hips jumped but he kept rubbing brushing that spot in you as he pumped his fingers, his thumb still pressing against your clit.

Anthony cursed softly when he felt you start to clench down on him and didn’t take much more before you reached your high with loud moan. Anthony slowed his fingers, working you through your high and wanting to draw it out as much as he could before he pulled his fingers from you and he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes closing as he licked them clean.

“Anthony,” you whined, making him open his eyes and look at you. “Please.”

He nodded and got off the bed to take his trousers and underwear off. You knew what you were expecting this time around but you still took a shaky breath as you let your eyes run over him, over all of him, and pressed your legs together unconsciously.

He let his eyes run over you spread out on the bed, naked and his. Anthony knelt back on the bed and he covered your body with his, putting his hands on either side of your head so he could press his lips to yours. He lowered his weight to you, his cock dragging against the soft skin of your stomach making you gasp into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans.

When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours and shifted his weight so he could bring his hand up to cup your jaw. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. There was nothing you wanted more than him.

He lowered himself back over you, his eyes searching yours as he brought his hand down to your thigh, softly moving it so your knee was bent, before gripping his length, guiding it to your entrance.

He looked back up at you as he slowly pushed into you. You gasped instantly, your nails digging into the meat of Anthony’s shoulders. He groaned softly in your ear as he bottomed out, his jaw slack as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder. The hand that held his weight by your head gripping the pillowcase tightly as he tried to stay still and let you get used to him.

“Alright?” He asked softly after a long moment.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly. “Better than alright.” You ran your fingers down his back and felt his muscles tense under his skin as you tilted your head back. There was a stretch, but not as bad as the first time.

Anthony’s lips were soft as he kissed along your throat, whispering soft praises against your skin and you moaned softly as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

He was gentle as he pulled out halfway and softly thrusted back into you and your mouth fell open in a soft gasp as Anthony started a soft, slow pace, more rocking into you than anything else. His thrusts were slow and deep. There would be another time and place for him to be rough as he taught you how good it could be, but now he was focused on you and making you feel good the way he should have been with you the first time.

And he felt good. Really good. The initial stretch had melted away to pleasure and you took him so well, so tight and wet for him. He shifted his angle slightly trying to find your sweet spot and he knew he found it by the loud gasp that fell from your lips.

He recaptured your lips when you clenched down on him and he could tell you were close by how tightly you squeezed him. He pulled his hand from your thigh, and snaked it between your bodies to find your clit. You moaned loudly as he started to rub soft circles on your clit and when you clenched down on him, his hips stuttered as he cursed and let his head fall to your neck.

Your eyes closed as you got closer to your high before your back arched into him and you clenched down him as you moaned his name. He moaned at the feeling of you cumming around him and slowed his fingers to draw it out before pulling them from your clit to lightly grip your thigh, rocking into you with a slightly quicker pace.

He was close. His thrusts hit a little deeper as he searched for his high and a few thrust later, he stilled inside you, spilling into you as he moaned your name into your neck, his grip momentarily tightening on your thigh before he forced himself to loosen it.

He stayed in you for a long while, both of you wrapped up in each other, before he finally gathered himself and gently slipped out of you and he retrieved a worn cloth. Anthony was gentle as he cleaned you up before he returned to your side with a smile. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“More than alright,” you replied with a tired smile.

He returned your smile. “Good,” he replied before pulling you in for another kiss, smiling against his lips.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he settled you both under the covers before pulling you to his chest and you let yourself snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest.

You found the beat of his heart soothing and let it and the exhaustion lull you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning still tangled in Anthony’s arms and you smiled to yourself as you soaked in the warmth radiating from his body. You didn’t know how long you laid there with him, waiting for him to get up, but eventually you did manage to pull yourself from Anthony’s arms and dressed yourself before slipping out and heading down to breakfast, leaving Anthony to rest. You knew he needed it.

It was still early so you weren’t surprised to find that only Violet was awake and you enjoyed a cup of tea with her and though she never asked, she couldn’t hide her knowing smile or the feeling that something had changed between you and Anthony.

Her suspicions were confirmed when the next person up was Anthony, dressed in only trousers and his undershirt, his hair still messy from the long night and his smile softened when he saw you and as soon as he was close enough, he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips, not caring that his mother was right there. “Now why would you leave the bed so early?” He whispered to you, hoping his voice was low enough his mother couldn’t hear, but not truly caring if she did heard.

You instantly flushed at his words and gesture to his mother as if he had somehow managed to not see her when she came down. Anthony could only shrug before he kissed you again, not caring it was in the presence of his mother. She had had eight children so a kiss truly wasn’t scandalous, especially when it was inside the house with his wife.

Your cheeks felt hotter but you didn’t push him away and you smiled into the kiss before Violet cleared her throat, “well it definitely seems like things are going well between you two.”

You broke the kiss at her words and pressed your face into Anthony’s chest, making him laugh as he wrapped an arm around you. “Yes, very well indeed, mother,” he replied.

She gave her son a bright smile, “it is good to see. You two are so good for one another.” Something she had been trying to tell him for months, but Bridgerton men were seemly too stubborn for their own good.

Anthony’s face softened at her words and he looked at you, “yes, we are.”

Anthony couldn’t keep his hands to himself after that, not that you were complaining. But it also meant you weren’t surprised when the month came and went and your blood didn’t come. You waited another week and then two but your blood never came and never in your life had you been so overdo it had you biting your lip in excitement.

You were with child.

You wanted to tell Anthony that morning when you yet again woke up with to no blood, but he got swept into his work, so you waited all day hoping to steal a moment of his time. Finally, when it had come time for bed and you still had yet to see your husband (or your blood), you couldn’t wait another moment and headed down to his office yourself.

You didn’t knock before slipping in and as soon as you opened the door, Anthony looked up and his shoulders soften when he realized it was you, “I’ll be up shortly, love.”

You closed the door behind you as you smiled. “It is late,” you teased as you walked over and came to stand behind him so you could drape yourself over his back and wrap your arms around him. “But I could not wait any longer.”

He interpreted your words very differently as he hummed and leaned to the side to look over his shoulder at you playfully. “That needy for your husband?” He asked, dropping his eyes to your lips.

“I always am,” you hummed with a smile. “But… I have news for you.”

“Oh?” He hummed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before leaning back. “And what might that news be?”

Your smile softened, “I’m with child.”

He froze and looked at you for a long moment as he processed your worlds. “You’re with child?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I believe I am. I haven’t bled in nearly two months,” you told him, hoping he’d be happy about it. That was your duty after all, to bear his children. But it wasn’t like the two of you had discussed children outside of your first promenade before you were even married.

Anthony pulled back from your arms so he could stand before he pulled you into a real hug. He wrapped one arm around your waist and cradled your head in the other before he leaned in to press his face into your neck as he smiled.

You smiled equally hard as you hugged him back. “I love you,” you whispered after a long moment, finally saying those three little words.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Both of you.”

His words made you smile and Anthony returned your smile before he cupped your cheeks and kissed you softly. You let yourself melt into the kiss and you pressed yourself closer to him as you soaked the moment in.

Anthony was just as lost in the moment as he deepened the kiss before scooping you up, his books long forgotten. He just needed to take you back to bed. His eagerness had you breaking the kiss to laugh, “I’m already with child, Anthony. You cannot put another one in me.”

“A man cannot make love to his wife?” He replied as he pushed the skirt of your nightgown up. Perhaps his desk would do, the bedroom was all the way upstairs.

He certainly wasn’t wrong and you pulled him closer, your fingers teasing the hair at the base of his skull. “I suppose he could,” you replied, biting your lip. Anthony smiled and recaptured your mouth with his.

It was crazy how a much a few weeks could change everything, but neither of you couldn’t imagine life any differently.

Fin.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

13K notes · View notes

jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

Dynasty

➜ Words: 17.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)

➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.

“Absolutely not!”

You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken. He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre. Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….” You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with. Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight. He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child. “There’s no choice, Y/N.” “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.” His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.” You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal. You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves. After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?” Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.” “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”

There is a knock at your door. “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!” But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow. It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side. “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply. You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man. You detest Jungkook. He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most. Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this. “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks. “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.” He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless. “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.” “I can take care of myself.” He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery. // When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you. Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye. He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell. You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.” You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on. At once, you turn around. “Jin!” You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight. You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment. He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.” But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again. “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed. You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face. The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air. Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally. “We’re going to take a small rest.” “Okay.” He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water. “Are you alright?” You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst. You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?” “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….” “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him. Jungkook remains silent. The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either. And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason. You are the next one. The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities. “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out. “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.” The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.” You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated. // Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body. You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t. “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks. You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place. “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.” You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat. The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting. That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around. “I knew you weren’t okay.” “Go away, Jungkook.” He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he— “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?” You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness. The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil. “I’m afraid.” “Of what?” “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.” “You need to be strong.” You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider. He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone. You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead. You’re not sure which is worse. “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament. Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.” Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—” Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to. But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest. After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart. Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful. But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space. Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you. And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened. The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance. Jungkook pulls away from you. Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him. He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded. You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you. But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers. // The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs. By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again. “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.” The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be. But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on. You arrive no later. The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all. But you quickly snap out of your awe. This isn't paradise. It’s your prison. The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time. “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded. Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.” You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood. “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!” “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily. “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.” In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before. Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well. The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks. “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.” “O-Of course.” Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.” “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.” You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut. “Strip.” “P-Pardon me?” The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.” “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.” Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view. It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory. “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.” “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go. You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?” “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.” Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?” The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.” You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade. When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror. “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.” “I understand.” “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress. “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders. Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles. “What’s your name?” “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.” “What do your parents do?” “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours. Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.” “Yes.” Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade. At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother. But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known. Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls. “It’s time.” You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat. Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil. Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort. “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.” You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he. But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too. The moment is too short. The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right. Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm. “All hail Consort Y/N!” You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.” Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites. Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures. He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven. He is a puppet. Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy. Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off. The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!” Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.” The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet. “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?” Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.” There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are. The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings. It ends much too soon. “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut. They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground. The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in. Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries. It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive. This is something you must do. The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward. “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.” Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices... The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming. As quick as five seconds. The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you. It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down. It’s tempting. You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet. So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor. // In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name. You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook. Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not. “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through. If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything. You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk. “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?” “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?” There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak. But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows. Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you. It would have been fine if you were alone. If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away. You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist. You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin. But it’s Jungkook. “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.” You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands. You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?” “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours. Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here. “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.” You nod. He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did. // “All hail Empress Soojin!” The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair. “Good morning, Your Majesty.” “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach. “It was fine.” The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.” You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did. So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.” “Don’t be foolish.” “I—” Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting. Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents. “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.” Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.” Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant. You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you. His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed. “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time. You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.” The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt. If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body. Not like Jungkook. // The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to. But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning. “What is this?” You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows. Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom. The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin. “H-How did you get it here?” “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.” You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace. They need more time. More than three months. “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.” He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.” “How?!” “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.” “The Emperor is infertile—!” But Jungkook isn’t. And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.” In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.” “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob. “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.” You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest. On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night. And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either. He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his. You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground. His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you. “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair. It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to. But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse. You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste. Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him. “Is this okay?” You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours. “Tell me if it hurts.” “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest. Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “J-Jungkook…” Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds. His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down. Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected. Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix. “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently. Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss. Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline. You break apart. “Jung—ko...ok.” “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.” The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.” Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips. It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming. Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name. It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm. “J-Jungkook!” He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive. “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.” “Is that so?” There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp. Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past. “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall. “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.” Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length. “Yes.” They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat. Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes. You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then— “Are you alright?” Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason. But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again. “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again. Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.” “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.” He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.

Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation. “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.” The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day. If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work. “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.” Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.” You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears. But it’s taking too long. There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you. As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause. The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook. You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted. “All hail Consort Y/N.” The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms. “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features. You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?” “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?” “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.” Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist. His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch. He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.” The man grins. “But you still came here.” “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…” “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg. You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.” Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.” You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…” “What is it?” You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.” Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.” You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.” “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you. “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.” “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already. “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.” “I-I’ve never.” You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.” He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.” “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…” Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?” “You never know till you try, right?” You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face. You roll off of him as he starts to snore. You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you. In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you. You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to. The person you’ve been yearning for. “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?” “They didn’t and they won’t.” The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here. “And what if you were caught?” “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his. Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?” You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?” The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls. His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about. Why you’re so desperate for his touch. “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod. Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly. His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him. Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre. You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected. It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.” He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you. The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center. Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved. You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter. It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness. Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again. “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds. All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours. You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer. You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days. But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach. Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.

It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant. “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile. You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.” “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.” “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.” “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done. “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.” You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes. He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.

In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters. The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside. It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders. You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm. “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration. “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.” If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again. You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.” “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.” “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…” The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody. But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.” The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…” Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.” You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have. // Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand. “Your Majesty…” The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!” No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes. “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.” Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell. It’s your child and Jungkook’s. “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.” “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.” When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.” There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden. The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations. Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire. “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?” But he never lays a hand on you. Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.” “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm. Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.” You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.” “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?” Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.” You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her. But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence. “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.” “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile. To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance. // There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly. It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed. “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—” You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.” The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either. Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe. You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you. And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid. “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says. “It was just morning sickness.” The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.” “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?” “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.” Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.” “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?” “I have no idea what you mean.” Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent. Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.” Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit. Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child. // The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks. But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore. While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month. You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind. You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away. But it comes at a price. You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either. Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against. You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night. But it isn’t your imagination. “J-Jungkook?” “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.” He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision. “I’ll come for you,” he promises. The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves— “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.” He lingers. If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks. Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.” Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades. // You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you. It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then. You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want. So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive. But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night. “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.” The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.” “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?” One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.” There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook. “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.” “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.” She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being. Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over. And the realization makes guilt well up your throat. Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back. “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.” But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.” Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!” “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!” But they are Hoseok’s guards. You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin. But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away. Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare. Except, his blade never hits you. Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut….. “NO!” Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop. Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself. Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!” Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor. The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form. Empress Soojin collapses. You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours. “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…” You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to. You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling. She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace. You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body. A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes. “Jin?!” Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner. “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!” “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?” You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.” “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.” “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.” “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy. “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.” Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?” “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?” Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved. “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?” “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?” “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.” Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause. But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much. And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry. “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?” “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.” “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.” You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers. “Don’t go.” But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself. You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are. “Seokjin!” He runs, disappearing into the darkness. “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!” You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.

Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around. He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger. Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully. He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine. And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne. The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink. “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!” “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.” His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core. And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin. There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here. “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect. The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.” Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases. Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember. So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.” There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again. There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment. He drives the sword forward. Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest. Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls. Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses. And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time. The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile. We’ve won, Y/N.

At the same time, you stumble.

The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet. “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle. But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together. “J-Jungkook!” He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to. But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long. Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.” “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.” “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?” You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall. “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title. He is not an Emperor. “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach. “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.” “You….You!” There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s. If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath. Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death. “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.” “But—” “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.” He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another. Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body. You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop. Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around. You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.

[Epilogue] The dynasty has fallen. New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not. After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all. But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones. “Minkook, what are you doing?” You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip. His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…” You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?” Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting. They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him. It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born. You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again. “Goodnight, Min.” Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor. You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps. The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall. You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed. But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat. You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again. Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped. But none of it matters. Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace. The two of you are finally reunited at last.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #I know this is pretty wild and different from my other stories #but it's a concept I've been meaning to write for a while #hope y'all can still find it entertaining :D #even if it's on the heavier side

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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WHY HELLO IT IS I, BACK IN YOUR INBOX! I know we were talking about soft!Javi earlier so umm here you go :)

So it’s not that Javi doesn’t like kids or babies, he just doesn’t really know what to do with them. Because of this (and given the horrible circumstances that brought her into his life), he’s kind of uncomfortable around Olivia at first.

But for reasons he does not completely understand, she absolutely ADORES him. Whenever he visits, she refuses to leave his side; even as a baby, she would sob until she was in his arms. And he’s surprisingly good with her. In time, she becomes his absolute favorite person in the world.

So...some uncle Javi headcanons??

HI MADS!!! THIS IS SO CUTE!!

Javi hasn’t really dealt with kids. He was an only child, so he never had younger siblings, never had nieces or nephews either.

Kids stress him out. He doesn’t know much about a world that isn’t filled with guns and drugs and murder. He’s scared he won’t know how to interact with a child.

Plus, he’s had quite a few pregnancy scares with hookups. That kind of made him jittery around kids, just reminders of what can happen if he isn’t careful.

That being said, he was amazing with Olivia when Steve first rescued her. He was the one who carried her out, who murmured reassurances in Spanish since the lord fucking knows Steve couldn’t fulfill that duty.

Because of that, Olivia kind of latched onto Javi.

She likes being spoken to in Spanish. It’s what she knows. Steve and Connie try their best but goddamn, it’s clear that they’re gringos.

When Javier interacts with her at first, he doesn’t know how to act. He talks to her like she’s an adult. “Olivia, cut that shit out. What did you do with your bib? Jesus Christ, you want dinner? What do you want, huh? Fuck, you can’t talk. Right.”

That being said, Olivia adores it. She thinks it’s funny, even though she can barely understand what he’s saying.

She slaps her tray and giggles, a big toothless grin at Javi whenever he says her name. It melts his heart, the precious little cheeks. Those pudgy little fingers grab for his own, and they barely wrap around one finger.

It’s safe to say Javier falls in love with her.

He LOVES being at the Murphy’s, always making excuses. And Olivia loves her Uncle Javi. If she’s being too finicky or crying and won’t stop, Javier comes over and it all quiets down.

When she learns to talk, Javi is an easy phonetic word for her. She learns it quickly after Mama, Dada, yeah and no.

The little girl is his everything as much as she’s Steve’s. When she’s a little older, he’ll take her to get sweet treats and to the park. It’s better anyway, Javi taking her places. He blends in better than the Murphys, being Latino.

He brings her gifts often, even if it’s not her birthday. “Just saw this muñeca and thought of my muñequita. Not as cute as you, but she’ll do, won’t she Livi?”

He calls her Livi. Connie and Steve aren’t fans, they gave her the name to be called Olivia. Stupid, Javi thinks, since they both use shortened names. But oh well. She’s Livi when she’s with Uncle Javi.

Olivia changes Javi’s mind. Maybe he does want a kid someday. Maybe even a couple, if they’re as cute as this little shit.

#javi peña headcanons #javier peña headcanon #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña x reader #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña

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sharkbait-writes · 4 years ago

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Cody didn’t often meet with his batchmates on Coruscant.

Of course, there were the times where everyone of them was on Coruscant, but since they were all commanders, those times were rare. Didn’t change how much they meant, though.

Sometimes, there was at least one other batchmate and sometimes, Cody was the only one of his batch on Coruscant.

But that wasn’t entirely true.

It wasn’t the fact that Fox wasn’t on Coruscant that stopped him from meeting often with his batchmates. Quite the opposite, in fact. He always was on Coruscant. It was the fact that his job took up too much of his time.

As the commander overlooking the Coruscant Guard and the GAR, as well as being responsible for an entire planets worth of security, as well as the senate’s security -even if the Senate had it’s own guards just for that, as Fox had often enough complained over during drunken nights- and had probably even more duties than Cody was aware of, Fox hardly had time for anything but his duties.

Which meant that any little time Cody could spend with his ori’vod Fox was cherished. And, despite what Fox constantly said, Cody knew Fox loved those nights as well. Even if he came back to the barracks some nights more annoyed or drunk than he was before he left. Cody is simply fulfilling his duty as a younger brother. He takes it very seriously.

And if that time is spend helping him on a mission or annoying him on duty, Cody does not mind one bit.

Especially if it was on a mission a little deeper in Coruscant, where the action usually took place.

Especially, if Obi-Wan was there as well.

Cody just thought it was time his ori’vod and cyare finally officially met.

And so far, it went quite swimmingly.

That was until Obi-Wan suddenly stopped in his tracks, looked around and whispered a confused “Quinlan?”.

Which made Fox turn around sharply -because obviously that name meant something for Fox- and pin Obi-Wan with his gaze, stealing his focus from their surroundings.

At probably the worst time, because right then a building two blocks away exploded in a fiery show of light.

The shockwave shattered windows and lights, cracked the asphalt and pushed everything light enough, away. It brought the three of them to their knees, debris and shards of glass crashing to the floor around them.

Civilians were screaming and running away, but the comm on Fox’ wrist crackled to life, voices of their team of vode screaming through it.

But Cody didn’t hear anything through the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry. He was barely making out his vode and cyare, but that was all he needed to know at the moment.

Suddenly everything stopped. Then came a soothing touch at the edges of his mind and he relaxed a bit.

Opening his eyes and taking his hands away from his ears, he looks up right into his boyfriend’s beautifully blue, concerned eyes. Then there were careful hands on his shoulders, pulling him up and dusting him off.

The moment he was on eye level with Obi-Wan, he looked him up and down, searching for any injuries. Finding nothing but scrapes and bruises, he looked around for his ori’vod, intending on making sure he was alright as well.

Fox was standing a little away from them, at the mouth of the alley they were in, his calculating eyes trained on the burning destruction two blocks away and talking over his comm.

Throwing one arms over his boyfriend’s shoulders, he made his way to his older brother, wincing every time his twisted ankle made contact with the ground.

Fox turned around quickly, once he heard them shuffling his way and walked the rest of the distance, already looking the both of them over.

A quick glance showed Cody that next to a cut at the side of his head, Fox was relatively unharmed. Fortunately for him, the bleeding already stopped.

“Our squad is already taking care of it. Others are on their way to help. They said we should make our way to a medic”, Fox said, his voice taking on an annoyed tone towards the end and rolling his eyes.

Cod scoffed. None of them were really a fan of the medics, but even if two of them could be suicidal idiots, at least two of them needed medical attention and those weren’t the same two people. They would make sure whoever needed it, would get the medical attention and only then would think about getting it themselves. Too bad it would always be two against one.

Heaving a sigh, Cody took control of the situation.

“Well, alright then. Let’s go to that medic.”

“No wait! Quinlan!”

Before both Cody and Fox could stop and look at Obi-Wan confused, waiting for an explanation, another explosion went off.

Although it was significantly smaller, debris and glass still fell down on them.

While Fox ducked to the side and pressed himself against the nearest wall, Obi-Wan shoved Cody against the other one, which was nearer to them, pressing himself in front of him.

Looking over his cyare’s shoulder, Cody locked eyes with an exasperated Fox. If he knew missions mostly ended up like this on Coruscant, Cody probably would’ve spent more time with his cyare than his ori’vod.

When it stopped raining glass and rocks, Fox took a tentative step forward and checked their environment. Looking back to them, he nodded his head in a clear sign that it was safe.

Since people were screaming anew, it took a while for Cody to realize one yell getting louder and louder. And weirdly enough, coming from upwards.

Fox teared his eyes away from him and in perfect tandem with Obi-Wan, looked up.

As fast as lighting, he held out his arms and nearly collapsed to the floor when he caught a person, tripping over his feet while trying to keep his balance.

And then there was silence.

“Wow, Foxy. If I knew that all it took was me running from an explosion for me to finally land in your arms, I would’ve used this flirting tactic ages ago.”

In Fox’ arms was one Quinlan Vos, currently sporting a smokingly hot new look, and catching his breath, but still somehow sounding not winded at all as he flirted with Fox, winking in good measure and throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Even if neither Cody nor Obi-wan knew what just happened, for Fox this was apparently nothing new as he just looked at them, his tired eyes telling of a story, and sighed heavily.

Gaze still trained on them, he let go of Quinlan, letting him fall to the ground with a surprised sound and turning around.

“Let’s go to that medic.”

Sharing a quick, confused look with his cyare, they looked from Fox to Quinlan, who was still laying on the ground and groaning in pain.

“C’mon, he’ll be fine”, Fox dismissed.

But when they didn’t budge, he sighed again, his shoulders dropping in defeat, and turned around. Giving them a quick look of despair and suffering over his shoulder, he made his way to the jedi. With a grimace, he heaved the jedi up into his arms and then continued his walk to the medic, a moaning jedi in his arms.

Cody and Obi-Wan shared a look, still as confused as before.

While Obi-Wan lifted both his eyebrows in question, Cody only shrugged his shoulders as an answer.

Looking back to the other pair, they caught them right as they were about to walk around the corner, while talking to each other in quiet tones. Out of all the things Cody expected, it wasn’t the jetii shoving his face in his ori’vod’s neck that surprised him. Rather it as the fact that his ori’vod apparently didn’t mind and actually smiled down at the jetii.

Sharing another dumbstruck look, Cody and Obi-Wan finally began moving to catch up to them.

And while they still had absolutely no idea what just happened, they were sure they wouldn’t just forget about it any time soon.

And if Cody cornered every other commander of the Coruscant Guard after that mission to catch up on some good ol’ teasing material, nobody needed to know that.

Not when it made Fox smile at that jetii with the most lovestruck look Cody has ever seen.

Translations:

ori’vod – older brother

cyare – beloved

vode – siblings

jetii - jedi

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #codywan #commander fox #quinlan vos #for a really short time #vox #quinfox #y'all won't get anything out of me without some kind of vox there #at least anytime soon #also be careful theres an explosion #i mean its mentioned right before the read more #but like #yeah #anyway i wrote this like yesterday when i was supposed to sleep and only looked it over right now really quickly #so sorry if its shitty but i wasn't trying really hard here anyway

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

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Rengoku and Tanjiro

Rengoku is the first among the pillars to seriously mentor Tanjiro. Meeting Rengoku, and also witnessing his death is a turning point of the series for Tanjiro as it sets him on the path to learning the sun breath. Despite only knowing him for a few days at most there’s a reason Rengoku is an incredibly important person to Tanjiro. The two of them are foils, they’re both people who live primarily for other people instead of themselves. While they are both very kind-hearted people, Rengoku’s death shows that there are drawbacks to only living for the sake of other people rather than youself. MORE UNDER THE CUT.

1. What Tanjiro and Rengoku Live For

Rengoku acts towards Tanjiro, the same way Tanjiro acts towards everyone else. He’s a completely warm presence that seems to unconditionally accept, and encourage everyone he meets. Inosuke and Zenitsu always end up following Tanjiro around and fighting with him because he was unabashedly kind to them even though both of them have incredibly difficult personalities to deal with. We see Inosuke and Zentisu latch onto Rengoku the same way almost immediately.

Rengoku and Tnajiro are both people who end up looking after and nurturing everyone around them. Even when they don’t intend to. Tanjiro when being nursed back to health at the butterfly estate ends up befriending even the estate members looking after him, he notices Shinobu’s anger, he tries to discern Kanao’s true feelings.

Tanjiro is someone who humanizes everone around him. His empathy is permanently switched in the on position. It’s impossible for himself not to see other people as humans, so he ends up even humanizing the demons he is fighting and caring about their feelings in the last moment.

They even both dream about the same thing. In Rengoku’s dream he sees his little brother again and is allowed to encourage him.

Whereas Tanjiro’s dream is embracing his siblings around him. Tanjiro and Rengoku also view themselves as failures to their family. No matter how strong they become it won’t make up for how they’ve already failed. Rengoku’s father won’t accept him even if he became a pillar. Tanjiro believes failing to come home that day while his entire family got attacked by demons was his fault for not being there. Whereas, no matter what Rengoku does he canont break his father out of his depressive slump.

For both of them, their inspiration to fight, their breathing techniques comes from their fathers. Such as Tanjiro’s flashback of his father fighting against the bear in the Akaza fight. The difference being that Rengoku’s father was a demon slayer, whereas Tanjiro’s was a simple charcoal maker who took care of his family.

Both of their fathers also drop out of their lives early. Rengoku’s father fell into a depressive spiral, and started drinking and blaming all of his failures on his son. Whereas Tanjiro’s father died early. Afterwards both of them took responsibility as the oldest sibling and saw themselves as the head of the household.

They both have caretaker personalities because as the oldest sibling they believe it’s always been their job and obligation to take care of their younger siblings, and show their younger siblings the kindness that they no longer receive from their fathers. They’ve compeltely replaced their father in their younger siblings lives and take on that responsibility for thmeselves. How they deal with their younger siblings, also shapes their relationships for absolutely everyone else they encounter. No doubt, Tanjiro has so much patience for other people because he’s acted as caretaker and nurturer for a rowdy house of several younger siblings.

The two of them even have similiar spiritual cores. Both of them in the center of who they are, have warm centers surrounded by flames. The only difference being that Rengoku’s will burn to protect, while Tanjiro’s are warm and embracing.

They both even have the same standards for judging people. Rengoku cacepts Tanjiro’s sister when he sees her fighting to protect other people in spite of her own well being. Tanjiro and Rengoku both define selflessness, and fighting for the sake of other people as the qualities of strength they look for in other people.

2. The Death of Rengoku

However, in the end Rengoku dies because he cannot listen to his own advice. He spent his life living entirely for the sake of other people to the point where he neglected himself. He probably told Tanjiro these words because they were the words Rengoku himself wanted to hear. After all he had to carry his father, his mother, and his younger brother’s burdens, and had to constantly fight with the feelings that he might not be good enough, or even enough for the people around him. Rengoku’s too selfless to the point where he can no longer take care of himself.

Rengoku lives entirely for the sake of his duties to other people. Which is what pushes him to keep fighting to the very brink even when Akaza has him backed into a corner. Rengoku also deliberately chose a move that let Akaza fatally injure him in the hopes of sacrificing himself when the sun came up, rather than let Akaza have the chance to get away.

Rengoku chooses death deliberately because he can never choose himself over another person. However, in the end his sacrifice is wasted. Akaza gets away anyway. He leaves his brother alone, and he throws guilt and responsibility on Tanjiro. Rengoku still believes in his death he only lived to fulfill the obligations he had towards protecting other people.

His mother well intentioned, but she also died and left him with far more responsibility than any child should handle. Even though Rengoku died a heroic and noble death, he also died leaving his brother behind with his abusive father. Being told that Rengoku died heroically, and gloriously does little to comfort his little brother who is left alone. There’s an emptiness and poignancy to death once the flames have faded.

He also burdens Tanjiro with the same guilt that Giyuu experiences towards Sabi. That he should have been the one to die, and Rengoku should have lived because he was stronger.

Yoriichi who lived his life entirely selflessly devoted to other people, even says the same at the end of his days. That he never protected the people he wanted to protect, that he didn’t get what he wanted.

Yoriichi was the strongest, he always fought for the sake of others, but he thought that of himself as worthless.

In both cases you can’t live your life entirely fighting for the sake of other people and putting yourself down. It’s the lesson that Tanjiro has to grasp from both of their failures. That it’s okay to be selfish, it’s okay to focus on yourself, as long as you find that balance. You have to take care of your loved ones, and also fight to protect the weak at the same time.

Which is what Tanjiro is slowly but surely learning, especially in his interactions with Giyuu. That being completely selfless, to the point of thinking that it would be better if you were the only one suffering, if you were the one that died instead, is something that not only neglects yourself, but also neglects the feelings and importance that others place in you.

Which is why Tanjiro can succeed to find that balance that Rengoku failed to, to live for both others, and himself. To be empowered by his connections to others, but not feel the need to burn himself for the sake of others.

#kyojuro rengoku #kamado tanjiro #rengoku #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba theory #kimetsu no yaiba analysis #kimetsu no yaiba meta #kny meta

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chameleonwritess · 5 years ago

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Feels Like Home (Ch2)

Myriad of Stars

Not-So-Secretly in Love

Feels Like Home (Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3)

Forever Starts Today (Epilogue)

Extras:

Infirmary Duties

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace

TW: bad dream, mentions of Tartarus, panic attack depiction. There's a new character in this chapter, too! I hope you like her

Word Count: 9948

Read the whole Myriad of Stars series on AO3

Nico had originally intended to ask Chiron for permission to leave Camp at the weekend. That was until Chiron forced all of them to work ten times harder on rebuilding everything and fulfilling Jason’s promise to Kymopoleia now that there were only a few campers left.

Camp felt surprisingly empty and yet Nico was surprised to find that he didn’t feel all that lonely.

Cecil would hang out with Nico during the day and Nico would still find himself dropping into the infirmary to chat to Austin and Kayla now that he’d grown quite close to Will’s siblings. If he couldn’t sleep, Nico often wandered over to the Hypnos cabin to wake Clovis up to chat, too, and whenever he wasn’t hanging out with other people, Nico was summoning hoards of skeletons to assist with the building work.

Every time Nico summoned a new wave of skeletons, he smirked slightly, knowing Will would be chastising him for overusing his powers and force him to sit in the Hospital Wing for the next few hours. Really, Nico knew it was just another excuse to force him to help Will with his job. And, of course, to spend more time together.

Still, Nico was beginning to wish they hadn’t spent quite so much time together before the end of summer. Every night, when he finally got to sleep, Nico dreamt of warm arms wrapped around him, the smell of summer fruits and sunshine and the feeling of soft blond hair tickling his nose.

When he woke up, he had to remind himself that Will wasn’t right there, after all. It made Nico feel empty.

Of course, once he got himself out of bed and started about his daily business, sword fighting, climbing the climbing wall without being doused in lava, taking Mrs O’Leary for walks and countless other things, Nico managed to push the feeling of emptiness out. There was still no denying that he really missed Will, though.

Luckily, weekend really wasn’t that far away. Will had left Nico with his address and so Nico only had to pack a bag with some spare clothes and shadow travel to Will’s. Friday night arrived soon and Nico still hadn’t mentioned to Chiron that he was leaving for the weekend.

In fact, he was completely trusting that Cecil would tell Chiron where he was and that he wouldn’t be assumed dead and return to find his cabin ransacked. In hindsight, Nico thought that perhaps he should have entrusted someone like Austin rather than the son of Hermes.

Nico didn’t have time to dwell on it too much, though. He was far too excited to finally see Will again.

In fact, he was that excited that when he melted into the shadows, he reappeared in a tree suspended at least ten feet above the ground.

“Oh shoot,” Nico muttered to himself before he fell through the branches and landed in a back garden he severely hoped was actually Will’s.

“Nico?” a luckily familiar voice called out. Nico sat up and massaged his head just as a door burst open and his vision was filled with tanned skin, blond hair and a mass of freckles.

“Did you just shadow travel into my tree you imbecile?” Will asked impatiently. Nico’s vision was going blurry but he could still just about make out Will’s face. He grinned and reached up to touch it.

“Hey, Will,” he said woozily before passing out.

When Nico next opened his eyes, he was led on a settee inside someone’s living room. He was pretty sure he didn’t recognise it and wondered how exactly he’d managed to find himself inside it. Maybe a monster had somehow lured him in.

Suddenly panicked, Nico jolted upright and reached for his sword. His hand returned empty. The monster had taken his weapon.

“Woah, Nico, relax, are you feeling okay?”

Oh. He remembered now. He was at Will’s house.

Will was lounging in a single seat just across from where Nico was led but he’d jumped to his feet to prevent Nico from attempting to slice up his sofa with his non existent sword. The first thing Nico noticed was that Will wasn’t wearing camp clothes, instead sporting a green plaid shirt, opened over what Nico assumed was the t-shirt of a band, paired with slim blue jeans. He looked good. Really good.

“Yeah, sorry. I forgot where I was and panicked,” Nico explained embarrassedly. Will chuckled and came over to sit next to Nico on the settee. Nico moved his legs out of the way but Will insistently moved them back.

“You’re not going anywhere yet. You banged your head pretty hard on the fall and you were weak from shadow travelling anyway. Have you been overusing your powers again?” Will scolded. Nico rolled his eyes.

“No,” he lied. In fact, he’d already summoned at least fifty undead builders that afternoon and the shadow travel all the way across New York definitely hadn’t helped.

“I’m not an idiot, y’know. I can tell you’re lying. What were you even doing?” Will asked, shaking his head. Nico rolled his eyes. He should have known he could never get away with anything when Will was around.

“Chiron wanted me to raise the dead to help with building,” Nico explained.

“Chiron is going to get a scalpel shoved where the sun don’t shine if he makes you use your powers too much again,” Will growled in annoyance. Nico couldn’t help but laugh. He’d missed Will so much.

“I’ve missed hearing that laugh a lot,” Will sighed, turning his head in to face Nico.

“I’ve missed you a lot,” Nico added. He hadn’t necessarily intended to be so honest but the smile it put on Will’s face was completely worth it.

“Good,” Will murmured and he leaned his face in closer to Nico’s. Nico felt his heart rate increase. He hadn’t kissed Will all week. He hadn’t realised how much he missed the taste of Will’s lips on his- the comfort of having him right there under his hands with no chance of anything bad happening.

“Will? Nico? Did I hear your voices?” a female voice called out, causing Will and Nico to spring apart from each other as if they’d been electrocuted.

“Oh, yeah, Nico just woke up, mom,” Will called back. Nico released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He didn’t think he would have been able to cope with the shame of falling into the Solace’s tree, passing out and waking up on their settee and then being found making out with Will by his own mother.

Nico was at least relieved that he had met Naomi Solace before arriving here. Otherwise, he definitely would have been immediately Shadow Travelling out of the house. He would take monsters over mothers any day.

“Nico,” Naomi’s grinning face peered around the corner of the room, “how are you feeling? I made sure to give you a quick check over and Will explained your Shadow Travel to me. He’s healed the injury on your head and found some ambrosia to stop you from fading.”

“Oh,” Nico said weakly, “thank you.”

“I warned you,” Will muttered quietly under his breath so only Nico could hear. Nico let out a huff of laughter. Will had indeed informed him that his mother was very concerned over health, being a medic herself.

“What are you muttering about, William?” Naomi asked sternly, placing her hands on her hip. Nico let out another laugh.

“I’ve never heard anyone call you William before,” he smirked.

“What, you didn’t think my name was just Will, did you?” Will asked with a grin. Nico rolled his eyes.

“Of course not,” he said, “no one ever calls you William, though. Not even Chiron.”

Will shrugged, “I’m pretty sure it’s just my mom and teachers that use it.”

“Generally when he’s in trouble,” Naomi noted. Nico realised she was wearing an apron and wondered if she’d been cooking. That’s when he realised that he had no idea what time of the day it was and how long he’d been passed out for.

“Which is pretty frequently, I imagine,” Nico added cheekily as his eyes scanned the room looking for a clock. He found one on the far end of the living room, sat among a bunch of photos- most of a much younger looking Will, usually grinning and sometimes stood next to his mother, varying in height drastically from photo to photo.

Nico couldn’t help himself from smiling at them. It felt strange to see pictures of Will from before he’d even arrived at Camp Halfblood and known who he was. Nico did get a weird feeling inside him as he realised he didn’t have a single photo from when he was a child. After all, he’d grown up in a completely different time to Will had.

Nico wondered if anyone had any photos of him anywhere at all. When everyone that knew him was dead and gone, would there be anything at all to remember him by?

Nico’s spiralling train of thought was luckily interrupted when Naomi Solace followed his gaze.

“Oh, if you want to see even more embarrassing photos of Will, I have a whole book of baby photos,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Mom, that’s the one thing I told you to absolutely not do!” Will complained. Naomi shrugged her shoulders and ran out of the room.

“So that’s where you get your inability to follow orders from,” Nico pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Will said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Gods, Nico really wanted to kiss him.

“What were you thinking when you were looking at the photos?” Will asked suddenly, drawing Nico’s attention away from his mouth and up to his solemn blue eyes.

“Oh, nothing much,” Nico shrugged. Will raised an unconvinced eyebrow.

“That’s a lie. I saw your face fall. Is everything alright?” he asked. Nico really wished Will didn’t know him so well, sometimes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nico continued to lie just as they heard the sound of the returning footsteps of Naomi Solace. Will flashed Nico a concerned look that unmistakable read ‘We’ll have this conversation later’.

Nico knew Will was a firm believer that a relationship required communication and so far, it had always worked. However, Nico also knew that he had a lot of issues, some very inbuilt that had plagued him for years. He didn’t want to burden Will, the kindhearted sunshine boy he was, with all of that. How was he ever supposed to help Will if he himself was a mess?

Luckily Nico didn’t even need to begin explaining any of that out loud, because Naomi came back into the room.

“Will’s going to kill me for this,” she grinned at Nico, “would you like a warm drink whilst we chat? Then the two of you need to get some sleep before tomorrow.”

“What time is it?” Nico finally asked.

“It’s nearly ten o’clock. You only passed out for a couple of hours,” Will added helpfully. Nico rolled his eyes.

“Wow, thanks,” he muttered, “could I have a hot chocolate, please?” Nico added to Naomi.

“Of course! Will, go put the kettle on,” she ordered in response. Will huffed and stood up, immediately leaving Nico’s side feeling cold.

“Yes, mother,” he sighed dramatically, walking out of the room, presumably to where their kitchen was. Nico tried not to feel too awkward about being left alone with Naomi.

“Will was a really chubby baby,” Naomi began, opening the album to show Nico the first few photos. The Naomi holding the baby had dyed red and straightened hair, completely different to the soft brown curls she sported now. Nico vaguely remembered Will mentioning that his mom had been an alt country rock singer when she’d met Apollo and that it’d been Will’s own affiliation with healing that had sparked her interest in a medical career. The photos themselves were pretty adorable as far as Nico’s knowledge of baby photos went. Will had a tuft of blond hair that only grew in length from each photo to the next.

“He’s always had freckles,” Nico noted, not realising he’d said it out loud until Naomi looked at him with a sparkle in her eye. He flushed red as he turned the page, hoping to distract her.

“This was Will in elementary school. He loved to play tennis back then. It’s a shame they don’t have any tennis courts at Camp,” Naomi sighed wistfully.

“We have volleyball,” Nico added, “but that’s about the only non-life-threatening sport.”

Nico wasn’t entirely sure how accurate his statement was. To consider any normal event as ‘non-life-threatening’ at Camp Halfblood, you clearly hadn’t participated with the Ares or Athena cabin.

“Maybe you two can go to the park tomorrow and play on the courts,” Naomi suggested. Nico tried not to let his panic be visible. He hadn’t thought of the possibility that he’d have to leave Will’s home and spend the day in the mortal world.

Nico had pretty much always spent his time in the demigod world ever since the age of eleven. Even prior to that, he’d been trapped in the Lotus Casino which whilst he hadn’t realised it at the time, was also not exactly a mortal attraction. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t just behind the times in which year he’d been born in but also in how to act in pretty much any social situation.

“I don’t know how to play tennis,” Nico finally said, realising he’d been a bit too quiet for too long. Naomi merely smiled kindly at Nico and he suspected she had sensed his panic after all.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to go. Will told me you weren’t actually born in this era. I imagine it must be pretty daunting leaving Camp and having to spend time in the mortal world,” she said.

“Oh, uh, yeah. It is a bit,” Nico mumbled. He hadn’t expected Naomi to have known that. For some reason, it made him feel a bit more relaxed.

“Two hot chocolates and a tea,” Will’s cheerful voice rang out as he reentered the room, balancing three mugs precariously. Nico automatically jumped to his feet to help, used to seeing Will struggle holding so many things at once in the Infirmary.

“Thanks, Will. Come and join us, we’ve not even made it to the worst photos, yet,” Naomi grinned, flashing a wink to Nico. Nico smiled appreciatively. He knew it was her way of saying she wouldn’t mention anything to Will about his small panic.

“This is the worst,” Will complained although he didn’t seem too hesitant to jump back onto the sofa and throw his arm over Nico’s shoulders as Naomi flicked through the photo album, explaining all the photos of Will to Nico.

Nico allowed himself to relax back into Will’s hold as the panic gradually released its tight grip on his ribcage. With Will’s familiar warmth pressed against him, it was just that bit easier for Nico to breathe again.

“I don’t know about you boys, but I’m getting tired and I have work tomorrow,” Naomi finally announced after a good half hour of laughing over Will’s photos, “Nico, we’ve set up a bed for you in Will’s room. Will can show you the way.”

“Thank you,” Nico said gratefully. Naomi got to her feet and threw her arms around Nico, much to his surprise. It was a relief that Nico had become so accustomed to personal contact as of late, or he suspected he may have fallen off the settee.

“Sleep well. I’ll make you both breakfast in the morning,” she promised, releasing Nico to pull Will into a hug, planting a kiss on his forehead before waving one last time and heading back up the stairs.

“Your mom‘s really nice,” Nico said, “I hadn’t expected her to approve of me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Will rolled his eyes, “I already told you she’d love you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly the kind of person most people would want to introduce to their mothers,” Nico protested.

“Hate to break it to you, Mr Doom and Gloom, but you’re not as intimidating as you like to pretend,” Will said cheerfully. Nico pouted at him and tried to glare but Will just leaned forward and touched his nose to Nico’s.

“You’re like a cute little puppy.”

Nico jerked his head away.

“You’re the worst,” he commented.

“Fine, you’re sleeping on the air mattress then,” Will shrugged before jumping to his feet, extending a hand to pull Nico with him, “but not until you’ve had the grand introduction to my room!”

Nico wasn’t sure what he was expecting Will’s room to look like but based on the fact that Nico had only ever seen Will sleep in the Apollo cabin- a room that literally glittered gold- and the Hades cabin that looked more like a morgue than a place a living person should sleep, he supposed he should have guessed it would be something in the middle.

Will’s walls were painted pale blue but not much of the paintwork was visible underneath the mass of posters covering his wall. Nico didn’t recognise many of them but of the ones he did know, they were of bands, films and TV shows that were popular enough, Nico had actually heard of them.

A large Harry Potter poster was surrounded by some smaller Disney posters, a Lord of the Rings poster and two Star Wars ones. On the wall opposite, there were a selection of bands represented: Fall Out Boy, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance and Green Day.

The remaining walls were taken up by a large wooden wardrobe and a window that overlooked the garden Nico had shadow travelled into only a few hours previously.

Nico wasn’t surprised at how tidy Will’s room was, though. All his books were piled neatly and there wasn’t a stray item of clothing in sight. On a bookshelf there was a tall pile of medical books that caught Nico’s eye. He hadn’t realised Will actually had to learn things for all the healing he did at Camp- he’d assumed it was inherited knowledge from Apollo. Nico felt a warmth grow in his chest at the thought of Will studying the medical books into the night, desperate to help an injured camper.

“So, what do you think?” Will asked, flopping down onto his own bed, covered in a deep blue space duvet.

Nico tried to think of a way to describe the room. It was just so… Will.

He allowed a smile to creep its way onto his face.

“I love it,” he admitted. Will beamed and motioned for Nico to sit next to him on the bed. Nico obliged and couldn’t help but sit a little closer to Will so that their legs were touching. After all, it had been a week and he hadn’t been left alone with Will for all of that time. He missed the privacy, not that they got much at Camp anyway.

“What were you thinking downstairs when you were looking at the photos?” Will asked, “I saw your face fall a couple of times and when I returned with the drinks you were definitely more tense than usual.”

Nico observed the concerned look on Will’s face. His eyebrows had scrunched together and Nico really wanted to smooth the crease lines out with his thumb.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. You don’t need to worry,” Nico assured. Will chewed his lip and Nico unintentionally followed the movement with his gaze.

“I do worry, though. I was the one that asked you to come here and I don’t want you to feel panicked or trapped or anything. I just wanted to spend time with you. Maybe I was being selfish,” Will huffed but Nico grabbed his wrists where his hands had been gesturing as he talked.

“Will, that’s not it at all. I chose to come here. I don’t feel trapped at all and your mom is really lovely. Downstairs I-“ Nico paused for a second and allowed Will to intertwine their fingers where his grip had loosened on Will’s wrist, “I was just thinking that no one had ever taken a photo of me. Because, you know, my mom and sister aren’t alive. It just made me think that there’s nothing to ever remember me by. It’s stupid, I know-“

“No it’s not,” Will cut Nico off, “Nico, that’s not stupid at all. Photos have always been a big part of my life. They always help me remember happy moments and keep me connected to the mortal world. I promise you we will take so many photos together this weekend because I always want to have something to remember you by.”

Will leaned forwards to rest his forehead against Nico’s. Nico sighed. He’d felt sort of silly explaining why he’d felt strange earlier but as always, Will never thought Nico was being annoying or stupid or a nuisance or anything. He was always just there to support him.

“I love you,” Nico choked out, not having expected his voice to have sounded so strangled. It didn’t matter, though because the next thing Nico knew, Will’s lips were pressed against his and gods of Olympus Nico had been wanting to kiss Will all evening and now he finally was and Will’s lips were sliding over his urgently and Nico was leaning up into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck and pushing forwards so hard that they both fell backwards onto the bed, giggling slightly before returning their mouths to one another’s.

Nico pushed himself up on all fours above Will but Will didn’t let that break the kiss, instead leaning upwards to capture Nico’s lips again and pull him straight back down, his hands sliding over Nico’s back, into his hair, over his arms, cupping his face, tracing the slither of skin along his stomach that had been exposed due to the fall.

Nico reciprocated with his own actions, letting out a small gasp, running his own hands through Will’s tousled blond hair and pressing his body against Will’s as he tugged on Will’s lower lip with his teeth, pressing more fervent kisses to Will’s mouth.

Nico wasn’t sure how he was going to last for the rest of the time Will was at school for. If he had missed kissing Will this much after a week, he was going to be almost embarrassingly clingy when the few weeks before Christmas rolled around and Will returned.

Will finally detached his mouth from Nico’s much to his disapproval and pressed his lips instead to Nico’s hand.

“We should probably get to sleep. I never get a lie in, even on weekends,” Will explained. Nico had to try hard not to pout.

“I suppose. We could just stay in later, though,” he suggested. Nico hated waking up early and going to bed early. Will laughed at the proposition.

“I literally can’t. As soon as the sun rises I can never get to sleep again. I’m pretty sure it’s my dad’s fault,” he explained. Nico winced at the thought.

“That sounds terrible,” he said.

“I’m pretty used to it now,” Will shrugged, “however,” he added, leaning closer to Nico again so that Nico wanted nothing more than to continue kissing him, “I still need to get early nights. Do you have pyjamas? You should probably take a shower and make sure there’s no tree stuck in your hair, too.”

“Why, do I smell that bad?” Nico teased, glad he’d managed to find his voice again. Will crinkled his nose up comically.

“No comment,” he said. Nico pushed him lightly in the chest.

“You didn’t seem to mind a few seconds ago,” he retorted. Will gasped.

“I hope you drown in that shower, di Angelo,” Will said. Nico laughed.

“I’ll come and haunt you as a ghost if I do,” he promised. Nico slid off the bed and went over to his bag he hadn’t previously realised was sat in the middle of the guest bed.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Will muttered under his breath. Nico just chuckled in response as he fished his pyjamas out.

“Which door is the bathroom?” he asked.

“Second on the left,” Will instructed cheerfully. Nico nodded and made his way to the door, smiling to himself as he left.

One day, Nico was going to learn that irony wasn’t just something that happened in fiction. Just as he’d been thinking he was going to enjoy the weekend at the Solace’s house, he had to have his first nightmare about Tartarus since the war with Gaia.

Sure, Nico had had nightmares since- nightmares of being trapped in the jar with only a few pomegranate seeds, feeling like he was slowly suffocating to death with no way to escape; the nightmares about coming out to camp and Will rejecting him; nightmares about fire, storms, giants, monsters and death: the demigod usual- but he hadn’t had a nightmare about Tartarus yet.

In all honesty, Nico wasn’t quite sure how Percy and Annabeth had survived Tartarus. Even Percy himself had commented to Nico that he’d had Annabeth with him- he hadn’t been alone- but Nico knew it hadn’t quite been the same for him as it had been for the two of them.

Nico spent a lot of his time in the Underworld already. Nico imagined Tartarus for him just felt like the Underworld for other people.

Sure, it was terrifying, felt like death and Nico had nearly lost his life several times despite only being in there for a short time before being flanked by Gaia’s minions and captured, but he also had the advantage of being the son of Hades.

He had seen the form of Tartarus that Percy had seen, though. That was what the most terrifying thing of all had been.

That’s what Nico dreamed of.

It was just after Gaia’s followers had captured him. Nico normally would have been able to put up a better fight but he wasn’t in the Underworld, he was in Tartarus and that was their domain. Nico was captured by the two giants, Otis and Ephialtes, and forced to stare into the horrific form of pulsing purple muscle and writhing flesh that couldn’t possibly be a living thing and yet was so alive Nico could feel its very existence crawling under his skin.

It wasn’t just the jar that was suffocating, too- being in Tartarus made Nico’s skin itch and his chest feel tight. There was no medical grade oxygen down in the pits of Tartarus. Only a small fraction of the air that burned when inhaled was physically able to keep Nico alive. He could remember the feeling better than he thought he could. It made him feel weak- helpless.

If the giants had left him in there for any amount of time longer, he would have gone insane, died, or perhaps both at the same time. He wanted to scream out, to summon an army of skeletons, to shadow travel very far away.

He could do nothing.

‘Ransom’ he was told he was being kept for. Only one thought went through Nico’s head. He possibly even let out a cold laugh there and then.

As if anyone would fall into the giants’ trap to save him.

This time no one did come for him, though. The giants didn’t even take him out of Tartarus. He was trapped, with no help on its way, no weapon to defend himself with, his skin burning and his lungs feeling raw. There was no escape. He was going to die alone and no one would care. He had never been so useless before.

A hand wrapped around Nico from behind and he cried out in alarm, suddenly able to twist himself free of the chains he was bound in.

Nico came face to face with a very concerned looking Will Solace. His face was paler than Nico had ever seen it and he looked like he had tears streaming down the front of his face. Nico pulled an arm free from underneath him and patted his own cheek. He was crying too.

Then Nico remembered where he was. He was in Will’s room. Will had his arm around him. He was safe. Hazel and Percy had brought the others to come and save him. He was alive.

And Will Solace was right there with him.

Nico didn’t know what else to do. He buried his head into the front of Will’s night shirt and sobbed.

Will wrapped his arms around Nico slightly tighter and pulled him closer under the covers.

“Shh,” he whispered, “you’re safe. No one’s hurting you. I’m here. Gods, Nico, you’ve been through so much but you’re okay now. You made it through. You’re so strong. You’re the strongest person I know. I love you so much, okay?”

Nico cried harder as Will ran his fingers through his tangled, dark hair. He let Will’s words comfort him, reminding him where he was, who he was, who was with him. Will was right- he was safe.

“I-I’m sorry,” Nico choked out.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologise for,” Will said sternly yet softly, “every demigod has nightmares. This was just a particularly bad one. You’ve been through a lot, Nico.”

“I was back in Tartarus,” Nico began to explain, feeling as if he owed Will the explanation. To his surprise, Will shushed him again and pushed him back slightly to look in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to have to relive it just to explain to me,” Will insisted, “just hold me. I’m here, okay?”

Nico nodded into Will’s shoulder and for once, made no complaint about following his instructions.

It took a while for Nico’s heart rate to steady again and for the tears to stop flowing. Will held onto Nico like he was his lifeline- like Will was the one who had had the nightmare, not Nico.

“Feeling better?” Will asked when he noticed Nico had stopped shaking, relenting his grip on Nico’s shoulders a fraction.

Nico nodded and wiped his hands under his eyes.

“Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been,” Nico admitted, “I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in a while.”

Will smiled at Nico and ran his fingers through his hair again, just as he’d been doing when calming Nico down.

“I was actually really scared,” Will said softly. Nico looked at him puzzled, silently telling him to continue. He did, “I was just waking up anyway because it’s practically morning when suddenly you seized up in my arms and started shaking. Your breathing rate increased and your pulse shot up and I kept trying to wake you but you wouldn’t. Then you started to cry and call out and I hugged you but you fell limp in my arms.”

Nico stared at him in shock.

“I thought you’d settled down but then you started shaking again, only this time you weren’t fighting me. I released my arms but you stayed still, crying and shaking. I kept calling your name and reached out to try and shake you awake when you finally woke up. I hadn’t realised I’d been crying too until you wiped your own tears,” Will finished.

“Will, I’m so sorry-“

“Stop apologising,” Will interrupted harshly, “you’re allowed to have nightmares and you don’t have to be sorry for upsetting me. I was just really worried about you, okay. I hate seeing you that upset.”

Nico breathed out, his heart pounding. If Will could be there for all his nightmares, Nico had a feeling he might just be able to cope with them a little bit easier. Of course, he’d rather never go through them again- that way both he and Will could get a peaceful night’s sleep.

“Thank you,” Nico gasped, “but really, I am sorry for putting you through that.”

“Nico, it’s okay, really. I want to share the pain with you if I can. No one should have to go through that alone,” Will insisted before pulling Nico back into a hug, “I’m a healer. I hate not being able to heal mental scars. Being here is the next best thing I can do.”

Nico was pretty sure Will was going to make him cry again. What had he done to ever deserve someone as incredible as Will?

He thought back to what he’d been thinking last night- that he didn’t want to unload all his troubles onto Will. However, this morning, he was wondering if it might lighten the burden, being able to tell someone else.

“Will,” Nico said slowly, “can I- tell you about the dream?”

Will drew back and raised an eyebrow at Nico. “Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Nico spluttered, “but I don’t want to unload everything on you if it’s going to be too much. Just… tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Will nodded solemnly and before Nico knew what he was doing, he was describing the feeling of being in Tartarus, the monsters he’d encountered, his fear, pain and suffering over the years, losing Bianca and how it had made him snap inside, feeling so much for Percy that he could hardly differentiate the love from the hate, feeling like he’d never belong anywhere and could never be loved.

Will listened intently, holding Nico. He was opening up to Will more than he ever had before and even though he knew Will well enough by now to know he’d support him through, anything, it was still almost unbearably terrifying.

“Thank you,” Will said when Nico finally finished.

“What?” Nico asked, more out of confusion than surprise.

“For telling me,” Will expanded, “I- I never knew you’d been through quite that much so thank you for telling me. It means a lot to me. I just don’t know how you manage to stay so strong. If it was me-“ Nico felt Will shiver against him.

“I wasn’t okay,” Nico said, “for a long time I just shut people out. You know what I was like on top of the hill the night I returned. I wanted nothing to do with you. Apparently, my heart thought differently. You’ve helped me a lot, Will. Without you, I wouldn’t be able to do half the stuff I can without freaking out and running away.”

Nico rolled his eyes at the end but Will just smiled at him.

“You’re secretly a bit of sap, you know that?” he smirked.

“Shut up, no I’m not,” Nico complained, wriggling out of his arms, “I try and be nice and this is the thanks I get?”

“Like a said- you’re a sap,” Will teased, poking Nico gently in the side.

“I’m not,” Nico insisted, nudging Will back.

“Are,” Will argued.

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Do I smell pancakes?” Nico interrupted their argument as his nose caught scent of something very welcoming. Will grinned.

“My Mom’s Special. Come on, let’s get dressed for the day. I want to take you out into the town to see all my favourite spots,” Will grinned, “if you’re okay with it, that is.”

Nico knew Will had spotted his face fall a tiny bit but he steeled his nerves. If he could get through Tartarus, he could get through a day in the mortal world.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he agreed.

As promised, Naomi Solace’s pancakes were incredible. Nico was pretty sure he’d never eat Camp’s pancakes again because they would never compare. Naomi had had to head off to work shortly after, so she had dropped the two boys into town beforehand.

Nico suspected she knew about the nightmare because she gave him gentle shoulder touches all through the morning even though she didn’t say anything. Nico was grateful for that but he also suspected Naomi didn’t quite know what to say to her son’s boyfriend after he’d had a demigod nightmare. He couldn’t blame her- it wasn’t exactly something they prepared you for in a parenting course.

Now Nico and Will were alone in a town Nico had never been to before and Nico was feeling just slightly nervous.

Okay, that was an understatement. Nico wasn’t sure why exactly he felt so on edge but his eyes were darting around everywhere, constantly searching for monsters or danger of any sort.

“Hey,” Will said gently, slipping his hand into Nico’s upon noticing his discomfort, “you don’t need to worry, okay? Do you want to sit down somewhere?”

Nico shook his head and gripped Will’s hand a bit harder. Then he realised he was holding a hand with a boy in public and pulled it away quickly.

“Nico?” Will asked.

“I’m sorry- I-“ Nico nearly teared up. He was panicking. Why was he panicking?

“It’s okay, just take deep breaths. You know no one will mind if we hold hands, right? The world isn’t as homophobic as when you were born, I promise,” Will explained. Nico nodded and allowed Will to take his hand again. He was still panicking. He wasn’t really sure why.

“How about we sit down?” Will suggested, “there’s a café I know quite well just around the corner from here. We can go and get a hot chocolate.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Nico agreed. He felt bad for Will. Will had just wanted to spend a normal day out with Nico and here Nico was, doing the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do- panicking.

“Don’t worry, okay? You’re allowed to panic,” Will promised.

“I don’t deserve you,” Nico muttered under his breath, leaning against Will as a tall man walked close past him. Will chuckled gently.

“Personally, I’d suggest it was the other way around. Now, come on, Lord of Darkness,” he smirked. Nico managed a very small smile in return as Will led him inside a brightly lit coffee shop.

“Hey, Will! The regular?” a boy around their age asked as soon as the door opened and Nico and Will stepped inside.

“Times two, please, Jared,” Will smiled at the barista. Nico felt his nerves relax very slightly at being inside. He logically knew a monster could still attack him but somehow, not being out in the open had helped.

“Coming right up,” Jared said, glancing between Nico and Will and flashing Will a wink. Will tugged at Nico’s hand and pulled him towards a table.

“You seem calmer,” Will observed, “what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Nico apologised, “I panicked. I was trying not to, but being out in the open-“ Nico shivered.

“I understand. Your scent is stronger than mine to monsters so I imagine you’re probably a bit more likely to be attacked than me. We can take them, though, if they find us. Together,” Will promised. Nico smiled back.

“Two hot chocolates,” Jared arrived at their table a minute or so later, “you going to introduce me, Will?”

“Oh, of course,” Will suddenly realised. Nico raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “Nico, this is Jared. He goes to school with me. Jared, this is Nico. I know him from the Camp I go to.”

“The one you can’t tell us any details about but disappear halfway through the school term to return to?” Jared asked with a smirk. Will laughed.

“That’s the one,” he grinned, “Nico’s my boyfriend, by the way.”

To Nico’s surprise, Will had rushed the last bit out as if he struggled to say it. Nico recognised that. Apparently, whilst Will was very open about his sexuality at Camp, his school friends weren’t quite as aware of it.

“Oh,” Jared smiled, “that’s cool, man. It’s nice to meet you, Nico.”

“And you,” Nico said politely, “your hot chocolate is good.”

“It’s the only reason I come here,” Will teased Jared.

“You mean it isn’t my dashing looks and witty banter?” Jared asked in return.

“I’m still waiting on both of those orders,” Will said wryly. Nico chuckled gently even though he was slightly jealous that Will was teasing someone other than him. Nico had never thought he would be the jealous type but apparently that was before he met Will. He supposed Jared was ruggedly handsome. He also didn’t have demigod nightmares and a fear of monsters following him. Maybe Will would be better off with a mortal after all.

“Well, I’ll let you two get on with your date. Don’t want to be a third wheel,” Jared said, winking at Nico. Nico rolled his eyes a bit. Unlike the winks Will gave him, Jared’s seemed casual and friendly. Will’s had always seemed more intimate, somehow.

“Thanks. I’ll see you on Monday,” Will smiled back and leaned over the table to enclose his hand around Nico’s.

“You doing okay?” he asked as soon as Jared had left. Nico’s heart stuttered in his chest. Maybe Will did still think Nico was okay, even if he could most likely do better.

“I suppose,” Nico shrugged, “better than when I came in. The hot chocolate’s helping.”

Will laughed, “Nothing like a warm drink to help you feel better.”

Nico was about to respond when he noticed a flash of movement out of the window. His attention immediately snapped towards it and he could have sworn he saw ram-like horns.

Will’s head also snapped in the direction Nico was looking the second a high pitched scream was heard.

“Monster?” Will asked, turning around to catch Nico’s eyes again. Nico nodded his head solemnly and reached his hand for his side. As always, his stygian iron sword was slung through its scabbard on his belt.

“I think it’s following a half-blood. Let’s go,” Nico insisted, jumping to his feet. Considering all the fear he’d been feeling about running into a monster, now that there was a strong possibility he had, he didn’t feel all that scared at all.

With his free hand, Nico grabbed Will’s outstretched one and pulled him to his feet, darting out of the café and following the direction he’d seen the monster go in.

“There’s an injured girl in that back alley,” Will said suddenly, pulling Nico’s hand in the direction he was pointing.

“How did you know?” Nico gasped out as he ran.

“I don’t know,” Will called in response, “I just sensed it.”

Nico wondered if Will could sense injuries the same way he could sense death.

“Nico, I don’t have my sword,” Will called out again as they rounded the corner and appeared at the top of the alley. Sure enough, a creature was looming over a small girl- unmistakably a half-blood- with a large gash on her leg and smaller cuts on her cheeks.

The monster was almost serpent-like, with two large ram horns and a smaller set of horns underneath. Its legs were short but it could clearly move at a decent speed. Nico unfortunately recognised it.

“Cerastes,” he identified.

“Good or bad?” Will asked in a slightly panicked voice. Nico squeezed his hand, suddenly realising that Will wasn’t quite as accustomed to fighting monsters as Nico was.

“Not that bad. They usually lure their prey so they aren’t as much of a threat when they’re visible,” Nico explained, turning back to look at Will’s face which was pale and aghast with fear. Nico smiled, “don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Will nodded and released Nico’s hand as he stepped towards the monster.

“Help me, please,” the small girl begged as she noticed Nico. The monster was unfortunately smart enough to notice Nico’s presence at the girl’s words. It turned around and roared at Nico, blowing an unpleasant smelling wind through his hair. Nico gritted his teeth and swung his sword out before him, diving towards the monster.

He’d anticipated the Cerastes’ move. It rammed its horns at him, intending to skewer Nico on the end, but he rolled and came out to the side of it. He attempted a jab in its long, serpent-like neck.

Unfortunately, the Cerastes was quick and moved its neck out of the way, causing Nico to only just graze the side. Golden ichor trickled out of the wound, distracting the monster enough for Nico to run past it and towards the girl.

“It’s bleeding gold,” the girl whimpered. Nico crouched down next to her.

“Don’t panic- I’ll take care of the Cerastes for you. Do you see the boy over there with blond hair? That’s Will- he can heal your wounds for you and we’ll make sure you’re safe. When I say go, can you run towards him?” Nico explained. The girl looked at him in shock with wide eyes and nodded her head.

“Yeah,” she agreed, slightly dazed. Nico knew the feeling well but this time, he had to be the one protecting her. Unfortunately, during their chatting, the Cerastes had recovered from its shock and was rounding on Nico and the girl again. Nico jumped out of his crouch and readied his sword in front of him again. The Cerastes looked at the stygian iron and hissed in annoyance. Nico had a plan and he could only hope it wouldn’t fall through.

The Cerastes lunged towards Nico, its horns bared forwards, and began to charge towards the two.

Just as it did so, Nico yelled, “Go!” at the young girl and she darted out to the side of him and around the monster, just as asked. She was brave, Nico would give her that.

Nico waited a few seconds longer for the Cerastes to come towards him and just as the tip of its Ram horn was about to barrel into Nico’s head, Nico dived to the side, allowing the Cerastes to ram its horns into the alley wall right where Nico’s head had been.

Nico didn’t hesitate to haul himself onto the scaly neck of the Cerastes and, before it knew what had hit it, slice its head clean off its body. His sword went right in past the hilt, smearing golden ichor across Nico’s hand.

The girl made a strangled cry behind Nico as he jumped off the Cerastes before it could disintegrate. Nico swung his sword back into its scabbard at his hips and wiped his hands on his torn black jeans. That luckily hadn’t been too difficult. However, he and Will now had a demigod girl to take to Camp which was sort of frustrating.

Nico walked back over to where both the girl and Will were staring at him in shock.

“Do I have ichor in my hair?” he asked, puzzled at their agape stares. Will shook his head.

“No, you look amazi- fine!” he spluttered, “you look fine.”

Nico raised an eyebrow at him curiously as his heart stuttered slightly in his chest. They had more pressing matters, though.

“What’s your name?” Nico asked the girl.

“Cordelia,” she responded.

“Nice to meet you, Cordelia,” Nico tried to smile, “I’m Nico and this is Will, as I said. Has he healed your wounds?”

Cordelia nodded.

“It was like magic,” she said, “and you killed the monster, too. Are you superheroes?”

Will chuckled lightly next to Nico.

“Just heroes,” he smiled, “do you mind me asking who your parents are?”

Cordelia frowned at that, although Nico had sort of been expecting that.

“I don’t know my daddy. My mummy isn’t very nice. She thinks I steal things. I don’t though, I promise! I-I’ve run away,” Cordelia explained. She looked up at Nico and Will pleadingly, “please don’t take me back!”

“Hey, don’t worry, we won’t,” Will said gently, placing his hand on Cordelia’s shoulder, “we do know a safe place we think you should go, though. Have you had many monsters following you?”

She shook her head.

“There was a really big angry dog once but it left me alone when I went inside a library. This is the only one that’s attacked me,” she explained.

“How old are you, Cordelia?” Nico asked.

“Eight,” she responded. Nico nodded. Her scent wouldn’t have been too strong yet, but now that she’d spent time with Nico and Will, she’d definitely have more of an idea of who she was. They had to get her to camp.

“This is going to sound really strange,” Will began, “but have you ever heard of the Greek gods?”

Cordelia screwed her blonde eyebrows up in confusion, “Like Zeus and Poseidon and Hades? I don’t know much about them, I’ve just heard their names.”

“Well, you’re about to learn a bit more,” Nico said dryly before turning to Will, “I can Shadow Travel her back to Camp and then join you again.”

“No way, you’re not leaving my side. Doctor’s Orders,” Will insisted.

“Will, we have to take her. You know she’ll only attract more monsters if we don’t,” Nico huffed. Will ran a hand through his hair and stared at the ground, clearly deep in thought.

“We can take a bus?” he suggested. Nico shook his head.

“Not enough time. I’ll Shadow Travel you, too, so you can heal me when we get to Camp or whatever,” Nico conceded. Will chewed his lip in consideration.

“Fine,” he relented before softening his tone and turning to Cordelia again, “do you trust us to take you somewhere safe?”

Cordelia looked uncertain for a few seconds. Her eyes flickered between Nico’s and Will’s. When they landed on Nico’s again, he tried to give her a smile. He’d never been very good with children. They always seemed scared of him. It was natural, he supposed- he was a son of Hades, after all and he’d just killed a monster right in front of her.

“Okay. I don’t want to see any more monsters,” she decided. Nico breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alright, both of you take my hands,” he instructed, “I hope you don’t get motion sickness.”

“Wait what?” Will spluttered before Nico stepped the three of them forwards into their own shadows and dissolved into darkness.

For the first time in his last three Shadow Travel jumps, Nico landed in exactly the spot he’d intended with no passing out or falling through trees. He released Cordelia and Will’s hands upon landing and turned to face them. Cordelia’s eyes were shining and she was grinning, practically jumping up and down in excitement.

“That was so cool,” she grinned, “can we do it again?”

“Absolutely not,” Will said. He didn’t seem to have taken the Shadow Travel as well as Cordelia and was looking slightly pale, “oh gods I need to sit down. So do you,” he added, pointing a stern finger at Nico. Nico rolled his eyes.

“Come on, let’s just find Chiron and introduce him to Cordelia,” Nico said. The three demigods made their way to the Big House which luckily wasn’t far from their landing spot. Chiron was sat inside his office, listening to classical jazz music.

“Chiron,” Nico said to gain his attention.

“Mr di Angelo, I don’t suppose you’d care to explain why exactly you disappeared from Camp last night?” Chiron said sternly before he turned around and spotted Nico’s company.

“Ah, I see,” he mused, “It’s good to see you back, Will, although I thought you still had several more weeks until you returned for Christmas. It is still only September.”

“I know,” Will said, “it was sort of an emergency.”

“You’re a horse!” Cordelia suddenly realised, making her presence clear at last.

“Centaur, my dear,” Chiron corrected, “I presume this was the emergency?”

“A Cerastes found her in an alley,” Nico explained, “her dad’s one of the gods. Cordelia, this is Chiron. He’s our mentor here at Camp.”

“This is a Camp?” Cordelia asked with wide eyes, “what sort of Camp? Did you say my dad’s a god? Is that why you asked me about Greek gods?”

Chiron chuckled at her questions.

“Don’t worry, my dear, everything will make sense soon. How about I give you a tour around Camp so we can leave these two to get on with their date,” Chiron suggested, looking pointedly at Will and Nico. Nico felt his face flush in embarrassment as Cordelia turned around to look at the two of them with a cheeky grin.

“You were on a date?” she giggled.

“Th-that’s not important,” Nico spluttered, “thanks, Chiron. Cordelia, I’ll be back here in a couple of days. I hope you settle in, in the meantime.”

Cordelia nodded and looked slightly sad to see them go.

“Thank you for fighting the monster. And thank you for healing me!” she added. Will smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

“It was no problem. We were happy to help,” he promised.

“Come now, Cordelia, do you like archery?” Chiron asked and he led Cordelia out of the Big House to explore the grounds.

“Ready to Shadow Travel back?” Nico asked.

“No!” Will spluttered, “it felt like being squeezed through a tube that was way too tight.”

Nico shrugged and smirked, “You’ll get used to it.”

Before Will could protest again, Nico grabbed both his hands and tugged him forwards into the shadow that had formed over the porch, dissolving into it.

When Nico and Will reemerged, Will fell forwards into Nico’s arms and clung onto him.

“How do you do this without throwing up?” Will asked breathlessly.

“You’ve managed,” Nico pointed out. Will managed to straighten himself up and regained his bearings.

“I suppose so, yeah,” he noted, “please can we sit down, though?”

Nico chuckled but agreed. After two bouts of Shadow Travel, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling weary himself.

“How’s your panic doing?” Will asked.

“The monster worked as a pretty good distraction, actually,” Nico noticed. He’d completely forgotten about the panic attack. He supposed it was kind of ironic considering meeting a monster had been what he was panicking about in the first place, “I sort of forgot to panic.”

“Yeah, well,” Will shrugged, “I think you passed it onto me. Sorry I sort of froze up when we saw the monster. I’ve never really met one without being surrounded by loads of other demigods. I’m glad you were there, too.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Be glad you haven’t had to meet one by yourself before. If you had your sword, you would have been fine, I promise,” Nico insisted. Will shrugged so Nico took the silence as an opportunity to continue. He could still feel adrenaline coursing through his veins from the fight- he needed an outlet to drain it.

“Is that why you looked so shocked at the end, too, when I killed it?” Nico asked. To his surprise, Will’s face flushed red.

“No, er, that was less to do with the monster,” he explained, “more to do with you.”

Nico suddenly realised what Will was meaning. Or at least, he was pretty certain he did.

“Oh really?” Nico teased, “then maybe I should find a few more monsters to kill around you, then.”

“Oh, shut up,” Will grumbled, nudging Nico with his shoulder.

“What? I don’t have a problem with you watching me fight monsters,” Nico shrugged, allowing a sly grin to edge its way onto his face.

“I think I’ve decided I like you better when you’re panicking- you’re not teasing me then, at least,” Will huffed, “I’m allowed to think my boyfriend looks good when he’s using a sword, okay?”

Nico chuckled.

“Stop complaining, Solace,” he whispered as their faces drew closer together. Will really did stop complaining when Nico connected their lips.

Nico wished he didn’t only have a weekend with the Solaces but when Sunday evening rolled around, Naomi told him he was welcome back any time he liked and Nico thought he might just be tempted to take her up on the offer.

Will gave Nico a lecture about making sure he didn’t use his powers again for at least twenty-four hours after the Shadow Travel back before pulling him into a tight hug that Nico melted into. He wouldn’t be seeing Will again until a few weeks before Christmas and he’d be lying if he even pretended that he wasn’t going to miss the son of Apollo immensely.

“Promise you’ll Iris message me, right?” Will begged.

“Of course,” Nico rolled his eyes. As if he’d pass up any opportunity to see Will again, even if only through a rainbow.

“Don’t go having too much fun at Camp without me, though,” Will added with a laugh.

“I’ll let you know if Cecil finally manages to get someone killed,” Nico promised.

“Stay safe, Nico. Thank you for coming over. It’s been lovely meeting you,” Naomi smiled.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” Nico replied, “it’s been really nice. Your pancakes are very good.”

Naomi chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Well, I’d better be going now,” Nico said, shouldering his bag and heading towards the shadow he intended to travel through.

“Wait, one last thing,” Will blurted out as he jogged forwards towards Nico. Nico looked up at him with a small smile and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he said. Will smiled back and cupped his face before bringing their lips together in one final, chaste kiss- Will’s mum was watching, after all.

“I love you,” Will added. Nico tried to act embarrassed but he was struggling to hide his grin.

“Yeah, love you too or whatever,” he grumbled, “Don’t go getting attacked by monsters before I next see you, okay?”

“I promise,” Will agreed before stepping away and leaving Nico to melt into the shadows.

When Nico next opened his eyes, he was back at Camp Halfblood, stood in the woods he always went to with Will in the shadow of a tree. He took a deep breath in, smelling the freshness of the forest and the dampness of the canoe lake. He was going to miss Will a lot.

Still, Nico had things to do at Camp as well. Jason’s building project was still underway, Kayla had plenty of teases about him and Will up her sleeve upon Nico’s return and Cordelia was overjoyed to see Nico again.

“Nico, Nico, I got claimed!” she said excitedly. Nico raised his eyebrows and smiled at the small, blonde girl.

“Really? Who’s your dad?” he asked.

“Hermes!” Cordelia grinned, “Cecil’s my big brother. And Connor and Chris and Julia and Alice.”

“I bet they’re keeping you on your toes, then,” Nico chuckled.

“Watch it, Death Boy,” Cecil retorted, elbowing Nico.

“Cecil’s funny, though!” Cordelia argued enthusiastically, “he has funny jokes.”

“Hey, Nico, listen to this one,” Cecil grinned as he crouched down, allowing Cordelia to climb on his back after a few attempts of her jumping up to reach herself, “why are mountains so funny?”

Nico looked at him.

“They’re not?” he pointed out.

“That’s right,” Cecil said, “they’re hill areas.”

Cordelia promptly burst out laughing and Nico had to try hard to resist a smile himself.

“Get it? Hill areas: hilarious?” Cecil chuckled, nearly falling over with the combined weight of his own body plus Cordelia’s.

“I hope Lou Ellen returns soon,” Nico rolled his eyes, “I don’t think I can cope with you on my own.”

Cecil merely laughed louder at this and Cordelia joined in, despite Nico’s doubts that she had any clue who Lou Ellen even was. Cordelia seemed happy, though and that was what mattered. She was already seeming so different from the small, frightened girl he’d found cornered by the Cerastes.

Maybe the wait for Will at Christmas wouldn’t seem so long, after all.

#percy jackson #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #solangelo fanfic #my writing #percy jackson fanfic #solangelo fanfiction #willico #myriad of stars

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092219archive · 4 years ago

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i’ve been watching ffxiv cutscenes for the main story (pushing thru heavensward right now) and i’ve been thinking of stuff for my wol lately so i guess now’s a good time to introduce them a bit :-)

here’s a link to the og meme: Self Insert Development Meme

1. Does your insert have a name that’s different from yours? Does the name reflect their character in any way, or is it just because it sounds nice? How did you come up with it?

wol’s currently nameless... i can’t use with the usual “eren” as per the naming conventions of each ffxiv race (i will use wol!eren to indicate, well, My WoL). maybe if i wanted them to be a hyur i’d be able to, but i’ve been hopping back and forth between aura (raen) or viera (veena)...

edit (8/4): i keep forgetting to update this lmfao,, but my wol’s name is momo and they’re an aura (raen)!

2. Does your insert have a very strong relationship with a f/o, maybe more than one? Tell us a little about the dynamic they have! This can be a bond that’s romantic, familial, or platonic, anything - even an enemy would count as a strong relationship!

there’s only maybe one person who’s aware of the character(s) that i’m maybe. MAYBE. maybe. looking at (eros Do Not Interact). no names as i refuse to acknowledge/perceive them in any manner.

but, the relationship’s still in the works,, i’m thinking it’s a lot of it’s gonna have to focus on positions of power/hierarchies... maybe a bit of slowburn... for spice.

i feel like any rom relationship i could build might. be slow burn. oops!

3. Who in their canon are they closest to? Who would they drop everything to come help, if anyone? Who’s the person they’re least close to? Who would they most likely not get along with, if anyone?

in terms of story, i think wol!eren’s really close to alphinaud; i get familial vibes from him (and actual wol spends a very large chunk of time with him as well)... but personally, i’m thinking estinien. yea he’s a bit of an asshat but he’s cool (but ig that makes wol!eren a bit of an asshat too)

when it comes to who wol!eren’s not close with... honestly, anyone that abuses their position of power for selfish and harmful reasons at the expense of people go on the hit list. but even then, if the character’s one of the main characters/shown often then it’s like... i’d have to think about it a little more. happens a lot

4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?

hmm much like my other s/is, wol!eren delves on their past often despite their preaching of looking forward. a hypocrite they are!! (/s) a lot of my self ships also delve on like. “same hat” so... honestly they’re just kinda going with the flow and walking wherever they feel is an easy path. they’re a pretty passive person despite the role they’ve been given.

5. Does your insert have any magical talents or otherwise special abilities? Are they passive, like the ability to befriend animals, or dangerous power that the villains want? Or if they're evil - any powers the heroes want to stop?

as per the narrative, they were chosen by hydaelyn and have the echo. however, they’re also extremely perceptive. they can typically tell whether someone has good intentions or not. the issue is that it’s always a feeling and they usually don’t have anything to prove their claims. as a result, they rarely say anything about it. it's not really a “power” but it can certainly be helpful.

6. Do they fight? What’s their weapon of choice? Do they stay on the sidelines? What would it take for them to get off the sidelines? Revenge? Saving a loved one? What’s the motivation for them to fight, or to stay OUT of a fight?

i plan on wol!eren being a summoner! or maybe not exactly a summoner, but something to do with magic being used offensively. they hate getting their hands dirty so they’ll just blow you up instead.

they mainly fight because it’s their duty/obligation to fight, but had they not been in the position they were, they’d have sooner leave combat and live off the grid. nobody really knows this because they never voice it -- it also wouldn’t be good for a warrior of light to say “yea i hate my job and i don’t really care about some of you”, you know?

(7/18) edit: with the help of my ffxiv mutuals, i’ve decided to make wol!eren a black mage :) it’s definitely fitting for their character.

7. What kind of clothing style do they like? What would they never be caught dead wearing? What’s likely in their closet right now?

REALLY DARK CLOTHING. if they show any skin when they don’t have to, they’ll Perish. i intend for them to wear the void ark clothing for magic users but much like everything else, that’s subject to change. clothing that’s aesthetically pleasing and easy on the eyes is good.

8. How do they fit into their canon world? What’s their role to play, if any? Do they have a big destiny? Or do they more live as a side character that’s helpful for the protagonists/antagonists?

literally the protagonist but very much desires to be a side character. because they like playing a supporting role more than the main role, they live in “anonymity.” kinda. it’s just hard when the group you’re apart of and gods?? know literally just about everything you’ve been doing.

9. Their favorite foods? Colors? Activities? What do they enjoy in life? How do they express their joy for things they like?

they will. eat just about anything they’re given, even if the food’s not super great (like a raccoon.....). they don’t really have any particular favorites and if they do, it’s likely to be meat or basic, easy-to-make dishes.

just anything that’s dark/muted. color colors (blues, purples, etc.) are their favorite.

they very much enjoy doing absolutely nothing, especially now that they’re so busy with working. if they’re free from work even if it’s just for a few seconds, you will find them sleeping. Lazy

if they like something, they’d never say it out right. extremely private and closed off person, so unless you’re really close with them, you’d never know if they truly liked something.

10. Their least favorites? What don’t they enjoy in life? How do they deal with being presented with things they don’t like?

literally just anything that inconveniences them. they want things to run smoothly so they don’t have to deal with anything they don’t have to. when something arises that stops them from fulfilling their duties, they’re get irritated. they also just, not the biggest fan of people and socializing.

11. How easy is it to make your insert angry? Sad? How easy is it to twist their emotions into negative things? By contrast, how easy are they to cheer up? What can brighten a bad day?

they’re easily prone to negative emotions, but it’s not “major/serious” since they’re mostly out of touch with their emotions anyhow. if it gets really bad, they kinda “shut down.”

one way to get under their skin is confront them about personal matters, but you can cheer them up if you have a good sense of humor! alphinaud’s helped with that, albeit unintentionally more often than not.

12. Is your insert a loner, or do they prefer crowds? Do they warm up easily, or do they tend to take longer to befriend others? What kinda people do they get along with? Who are they likely to be uncomfortable with?

i think i did mention earlier that wol!eren really doesn’t like crowds. it takes them a very long time to genuinely consider someone as a friend. sometimes they might not even acknowledge someone even if said person tries their hardest to befriend them. and there’s not really a type of person who they’re really “uncomfortable” with (spoilers they’re always uncomfortable with everything asjfhsd), but i guess if i had to answer, it’s just anybody with potentially harmful intentions?

they have. Trust Issues™, if you will.

13. What are your insert’s goals? Their hopes and dreams for the past/future/present! Do they intend to achieve no matter what? Could anything stop them, big or small?

in the past, they wanted to live a comfortable life as a recluse where they can do things without the eyes of others watching... and they still do, but now they’re too accustomed by the presence of people to truly achieve that. after their duties as a wol (if they’re ever completed honestly), they’d probably pull a cloud final fantasy and start a delivery service or something like that LOL

14. Does your insert have any family relations? How do they get along? How do they disagree? Is it a biological family? Adopted? Or is it found family? How did this family come together, if it was one of the last two?

sssomething like that? so far i’m thinking they come from a family of arooound 5. 2 siblings + parents. they have a younger sibling who’s a miqo bard mercenary and an older elezen (?) astrologian currently working somewhere in ishgard. debating on who their parents are but all of them were kinda... “picked up” and put into a family.

the “parental figures” were desperate to have a family but they had little knowledge of how to care for children. needless to say, the environment was not one to flourish in.

miqo brd is kinda like robin hood where he steals from the upper class to give to the poor because he refuses to allow people who’re in need suffer due to a lack of resources. on the other hand, the ast is the elezen who wants nothing but peace. the downside is that he’s very aggressive with his ideals and follows people like the archbishop, thordan.

edit (7/18): wol!eren wasn’t tied to their family biologically, but due to their questionable actions and words, they cut ties with their family and started traveling alone. it was extremely difficult but because they didn’t stay in confines of their own home, they were able to meet the scions and the not.

alphinaud and alisaie are like their siblings. they share a surprisingly a deep, unspoken familial bond with the three because of all the adventures they went on together. wol!eren’s been caught acting like an older sibling to the two.

15. Does your insert have any enemies? What’s that dynamic like? Why are they enemies? Did they ever get along in the past? Is patching up differences out of the question for the future?

much like the actual in-game wol, i’d imagine that anybody that wants to stop the wol in their tracks are considered “enemies.” i haven’t gotten that far into ffxiv to really name characters though,, tba.....

16. Free question space! Ask whatever you want to know!

if ur into ffxiv and u’ve gotten this far down... thank u :) and talk to me abt ur wols or ur ffxiv faves in my inbox maybe?? 👀

#eren chats #long post #<that is not a joke this got really long #info subject to CHANGE but i wanted to throw what i've been brainstorming here #i'm gonna go continue heavensward now #gonna start 3.1 :~)

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cryptidvagabond · 4 years ago

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I really do not understand how our society got so toxic about procreation.

Some of us want children, and that's great. I support them 100% and hope the best for them. I want them to get the proper medical and financial support that they need to be a happy, healthy family, and I will fight tooth and claw to make that happen for them.

But a vast majority of us really, really don't, and we're all so fucking tired of having it shoved down our throats like it's the entire purpose of our existence.

We're tired of being hurt by our parents and peers, who seem to think they're doing us some kind of favor by invalidating our decisions and treating us like our choices are "just a phase".

When I was younger, I felt the need to lie to people, specifically parental figures, and say that "maybe I wanted kids, but I wasn't sure yet" because every time I tried to put my foot down about it, I was called selfish or accused of not caring about what my future partner, and in later cases current partner, might want. And every time I spoke this lie, I was urged to hurry up and do it, because the longer I waited the harder it would be on my body. They were openly admitting the damage that childbirth does to your body, like it was perfectly fucking normal!

I'm nearly thirty now, and I still get dirty looks and insulted remarks about my choice to not have children, from people who bring it up in conversation. Sometimes, complete strangers who I'd been having a relatively pleasant conversation with up to this point.

And no, by the way, I don't hate children, even though I can be slightly uncomfortable and awkward around them. I'm never sure what difficulty setting I need to set my socialization skills to in order to have a non-awkward conversation with them, for lack of a better metaphor. I cannot wrap my head around what kind of mindset makes people immediately jump to this as my reasoning for not wanting kids. I very much love my nieces and nephews, they are all funky little individuals with huge personalities, and I want them to grow up and have amazing lives.

But I do not NEED children. I don't need them to "feel fulfilled". I don't need them to "feel like my life is complete". I don't need them to be happy.

Children are not objects in the first place, and should not be treated like the THING YOU NEED to find purpose in life.

A few years after getting married, I stopped lying. I was too sick and tired to care anymore. By then it was evident enough that my body was too damaged by undiagnosed genetic illnesses to safely give birth anyway. And I am honestly absolutely appalled THAT is what it took for people to let me have my decision.

A decision I made when I was ten years old, I might add. And that never changed over the course of the rest of my life. I never truly budged on that stance. Not once.

And yet, I was still told that "one day, I would change my mind" and "Well, just wait and see what your husband wants".

My husband doesn't want children either. He never did. But he also felt pressured into having them for various reasons, the biggest being that he's an only child and he felt like it was his duty to give his parents grandchildren. Like he was obligated.

Having children should not be a "duty" or a way to make your life feel like it's worth something, that it means something.

It's a choice people should make because they want to. Not because they feel like they have to.

Because these are human lives we're talking about. With thoughts, and feelings, and aspirations.

Independent of everyone else. Of you, your parents, your siblings, your friends.

Independent of all of us.

Children are not Things.

And having them should not be treated like a Law, or an Obligation, or a Taxation for being alive.

stop telling your teenage daughters who say they don't want kids that they'll change their mind

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writing-ro · 7 years ago

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Too Good To Refuse

Series: The High and Noble Houses of Cybertron (1/?) Rating: G for General Audiences Fandom: Transformers Prime, Transformers - All Media Types Characters: Nightingale (Cybertronian June Darby), Bluefire (Cybertronian Jack Darby), Optimus Prime Ships: Nightingale/Optimus Prime Tags: Arranged Marriage, Royalty AU, Engagement ceremonies, Robots wear clothes Also Available: AO3, Fanfiction.net, DeviantArt

Lady Nightingale gives her hand away to help her people. Could love possibly blossom from such an arranged marriage?

Nightingale read and reread the letter on the datapad before setting it down between the two others she’d received. It would be a great honor to be the bondmate of the new Prime, and a union of Lady Nightingale of the High and Noble House of Kalis with Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Iacon would ensure the security of the people of Kalis for the next several generations.

She pondered the reason for this potential union, and it all led back to the recent insurgence of the Decepticon movement. It had had not lasted long, she thanked Primus and the Thirteen for that, but of all the city states that were affected by the fighting, Kalis was one of the worse, only barely preceding Kaon, which had been razed in the hunts for the Decepticon leadership.

She still clearly remembered the morning the war had started, here in her own home city. She and her creation Bluefire had been out with some others of her court, walking the streets as ordinary citizens. While of the HIgh and Noble House, her grand-carrier on her sire’s side had been a common archivist, and her own carrier had been well-born into the entertainment guild, until she’d become alt-mode exempt and studied medicine.

It was as she and Bluefire were watching some street performers when the first bomb went off. Several of the guards had thrown themselves between the explosion and the civilians, taking the blasts and likely saving a few lives. Mechs emerged from the crowd, armed and firing wherever they wished, though several had aimed their weapons at herself and Bluefire.

The guards had ushered her and Bluefire to a safe hiding place, and they had huddled with others, nobile and civilian alike, until the Iaconian guard had come and informed them that the attackers had been thrown back. Leaving the hiding place, she nearly cried from the destruction around her. But instead, she steeled herself and ordered some guards to take Bluefire back to the palace while she herself went to the nearest medical station.

She’d used her training from her younger days, when she had been allowed to study before taking over her duties as Head of the House upon her sire, carrier and elder brother’s passings, and worked side by side with medics to save as many of her people as possible. None died under her servos, but when she returned to the palace, she’d nearly broke from the sheer number and magnitude of the injuries.

That attack was not the last Kalis suffered. Her city state was situated directly between Iacon and the Neutral Territories. As peace had been the rule almost since the Quintesson War, their armies were not built, and so they provided the easiest path to invade the Capital City. Iacon also recognized this, and Sentinel Prime had written her a missive ostentatiously asking permission to hold troops in her State. It was of course a formality, as no High and Noble house would dare refuse the Prime, and so the troops came.

Some of the harshest fighting of the war happened in Kalis. Her people’s homes, livelihoods and many families and friends were destroyed with bombs, gunshots and blades. The Prime’s Autobot forces eventually pushed the Decepticons back, but what was left in the ashes was barely able to be called land, let alone be viable for anything.

She’d done all she could for her people. She opened the palace’s lower levels for refugees, hired as many as possible into the palace’s staff, worked hours in medical centers and the camps helping in any way she could. Bluefire joined her in this, acting as a courier and a helping servo in the camps. It wasn’t until she had nearly entirely depleted the House’s treasury that she realized it would take so much more to help her people. She has taken to praying almost night and day for a solution. One of her advisors finally gave her one.

And so the announcement was made that she would exchange her servo in marriage for aid in restoring Kalis. And all she could do was wait. And wait. And wait, until the proposal was accepted.

And for the response to come from the House of Prime had astonished her. The missive had been the equivalent to a contract, with conditions for the proposal. The bonding would take place a groon from the official engagement announcement. A preliminary amount of aid was sent with the letter, but the first true payments of relief would be given the day of the announcement. Bluefire would not be in line for the traditional Primal succession, but would be able to become Lord of Kalis upon coming of age. A very reasonable, in fact a generous offer for her servo.

The other letters were responses from the High and Noble House of Tarn and the High and Royal House of Vos. Tarn would have her wed Duke Shockwave, and while they would send relief, she would have to live in the palace of Darkmount, and by Tarnish law, she wouldn’t be able to oversee her state, her bondmate would. And Shockwave had become a cold being since his face and servos had been taken by an old order. He saw the world in statistics, and her people, while they may not suffer, would not flourish under his rule.

The letter from Vos was little better. She would be wed to Winglord Solarwind’s youngest creation Starscream, and she knew she was only considered because of her seeker bloodline and how Kalis provided an access to Iacon. She had met the young prince at a festival event not long before the insurgence. He was smart and educated, but egotistical and with an ambition to prove himself better than his siblings and wingmates. A bonding between them would barely hold, and the strain of it alone would make both their lives miserable.

As she thought of it, she had never met the new Prime. His existence had been announced shortly after the start of the war, when Sentinel had been gravely injured and Alpha Trion had presented Optimus as the new heir of the Primacy. She knew he’d been at the forefront of the fighting in Kalis, but he didn’t stay in the palace like most of the generals had. But all stories and reports said he was a kind and fair mech. He stopped the razing of Kaon immediately upon taking up the Matrix, and he seemed to care about the common mecha.

Well, this arrangement wasn’t about love. It was about her people, and what was best thing for them. And this offer was too good to refuse.

With that thought, she signed her signature on the drafted letter for her future bondmate, agreeing to the contract.

“Carrier, are you sure about this?”

Nightingale turned from the servants doing her detailing to see her creation. Bluefire had her optics, but he took after his sire all the more. The same helm, his colors of dark blue and red flames, along with his silver face and details. Even their alt mode was the same, a truck against her seeker frame. He had also been decorated in silver, with all the fine symbols worthy of his position as Heir of a High and Noble House.

The years had dulled the ache, but in moments like these, she could feel the rough edges of her broken bond. The only reason she had survived the break was the fact the two of them had been blocking the bond near constantly for the past several vorn, and he had been offworld when his ship malfunctioned and was destroyed in a freak accident. And it truly was, despite some bots’ wonderings of if she’d killed him. Idiots, why would she kill her own bondmate, no matter how rough their relationship and strained the bond became.

“Yes, I am absolutely certain, Bluefire,” she told him. “Of all the courses of action available to us, this is the best for you and for our people.”

“But what about you, Carrier?” Bluefire asked. “Is this your best course of action?”

Nightingale took a deep vent and stepped over to him, placing her servos on his shoulders. “Bluefire, I know you worry about me, but in truth, my happiness does not matter. This is duty, and I am bound as the Head of our House to follow my duty.”

He vented as well. “I understand, Carrier. I will also fulfill my duty to our House.”

“Good.” She patted his shoulders. “Now, you hurry and get your last minute details done as I get mine.”

He nodded and turned, his cape flaring out behind him as he left. She turned herself back to her maid’s care, standing for them as they finished detailing the blue symbols for engagement and bonding over her servos, faceplates and chassis. They then slipped a half-skirt over her hips and matching ribbons about her wings and arms, and a long cape between her wings, which trailed behind her several feet. Silver with energon blue embroideries over it, they complemented her white, green and yellow color scheme, and were a prelude to what her bonding gown would look like. Rumor said the Prime had commissioned it from a high quality arachacon seamstress, and the fabric was so silken, Nightingale could believe it. Only the best for the Consort of the Prime.

The final piece of her appearance was a circlet of silver, with a trio of gems clustered in the front to set in the center of her helm crest. One gem was green, the Colour of Kalis; one was dark blue, the Colour of the Primacy. The third was light blue, the Colour of Sparklight and Primus, the symbol of love and light.

So ornamented, she left her chambers and made her way to one of the vestibules of the throne room. Inside the hall, all the nobles of Kalis, Iacon and the surrounding states would be waiting. Bluefire stood with her; as the highest ranked in her House, as well as the Heir, he would hand her to the Prime’s care. Two young femmes, the creations of her lady’s maids, held the train of her cape, ensuring it would not snag behind her. The Prime would be directly across from of her, in the vestibule on the other side with his own attendants.

She had the ceremony memorized. At the signal, she would enter the hall, escorted by Bluefire, as the Prime entered from the opposite side. Bluefire would take her to the center aisle, and announce that the House of Kalis willingly gave her to the House of Prime to be bonded. Then he would step away as the Prime willingly accepted the offer and her servo. He would lead her to the dias and present her to the Chief Priest of Primus, and the Chief Senator, asking if they held any objections to the betrothal.

If neither had an objection, then they would kneel, and the Senator would hold a small energon good to them, first the Prime to take a bite, then to her to finish the good. After, the Priest would anoint them with the Marks of the Betrothed on their left cheekplates and the Mark of Primus between their optics. While the rest of their finery would be removed after the ceremony, those two marks would remain, until the actual bonding, where they would be replaced by the Marks of the Bonded, which would last until they naturally faded.

She had performed this ceremony herself numerous times, standing in the Chief Senator’s place as members of her court finalized their engagements. And once, she had been in the Prime’s place, accepting Bluefire’s sire as her betrothed. The higher rank always accepted the lower, as was the rule. And now she was the lower, and would be given to the Prime.

In the time she had recalled this, her HUD alerted her that it was very close to the time of the signal. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked to Bluefire. His gaze met hers, and while no words were exchanged, she knew he was ready to give her away, and he was asking if she was. She wasn’t, if truth were to be told, but she would not let it show.

The signal came, a tune played by the musicians chosen for the ceremony and the doors opened, She and Bluefire stood tall and strode into the audience hall, slow enough to seem unhurried, but fast enough that it was only a few minutes later they met the Prime in the center aisle.

And he was not what she had expected. Sentinel Prime, the few times she had met him, had been so proud you could practically see it rolling off him. He was also short for a Prime, still taller than her, but not too terribly much.

But Optimus was different. He was at least a full helm taller, maybe even two. He also was more humble in his stance and field, and he walked tall, but it was almost as if his ruby red cap had weight in the end and must stand tall to keep them off the floor. His plating was decorated with the same symbols that were on her, and he wore a jeweled circlet as well, his being gold. His faceplates were stoic, but there seemed to be a hint of something in his otics. She would almost say it was kindness and gentleness, but she couldn’t observe long, for ceremony must be followed.

“Who stands here to take Lady Nightingale from the High and Noble House of Kalis,” Bluefire asked, his intonation perfected after much practice.

“I, Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, stand to take Lady Nightingale as Consort and Bondmate, and bring her into the House of Prime.”

Oh, his voice. If Nightingale could find no other redeeming factor in the Prime after the ceremony, she would remember his voice and how divine it sounds.

“I, Bluefire, Heir to the High and Noble House of Kalis, ask of you what you will provide for Lady Nightingale in exchange for her servo and spark?”

“I will provide a home, to give her shelter. I will provide energon, to keep her fed. I will provide companionship, that she never be lonely. And I will give her my spark, that we may be one before Primus and the Law.”

“And what will you provide the House of Kalis in exchange for her servo and spark?”

“I will provide the House of Kalis with monetary support, for the sake of the people of Kalis. I will also provide a stipend to the Heir of the House of Kalis until he comes of age and takes the place as Head of his High and Noble House.”

Bluefire nodded. “The House of Kalis accepts this offering, and we give you the servo of our Lady Nightingale.” Bluefire took Nightingales right servo and held it to the Prime.

Optimus Prime bowed deeply over her servo, lightly pressing his lipplates to her backs of her digits. “It is my great honor to accept this gift, and to bring the Lady Nightingale into my House.” He raised his left servo and took hers from Bluefire’s.

Bluefire nodded and stepped away to stand at the edge of the dias. Optimus Prime then turned Nightingale and guided her up the first step of the dias, presenting her to the Chief Priest Mechalight and the Chief Senator Halogen.

“Who stands before us seeking a union?” Halogen asked.

“I, Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, seek to make a union with the High and Noble House of Kalis, and to take the Lady Nightingale of the House of Kalis to be my Consort and Bondmate.”

Mechalight turned to Nightingale. “Do you accept this betrothal and union, Lady Nightingale of the House of Kalis?”

Formally addressed for the first time in the ceremony, Nightingale said, “I accept the betrothal and union between myself and Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime.”

Optimus looked to the Priest. “Does the Temple of Primus hold any objection to our union?”

“Primus holds no objections to this union of the House of Kalis and the House of Prime,” Mechalight said. “And as such, the Temple of Primus, holds none as well.”

Optimus bowed to the Priest, then turned to the Halogen. “Does the House of the Senators hold any objections?”

“We hold one slight concern,” Halogen said. “The Lady Nightingale has bonded once previously and borne an Heir to her House. But her Bondmate was passed into the Well of AllSparks, and we express concern over how well a new bond would take.”

Nightingale could hear some murmuring in the crowd behind her, but she and Bluefire had prepared for this.

Bluefire stepped forward. “The Lady Nightingale has been examined by many of the finest medics available. Her spark is whole and can easily form a bond and create newsparks for the lineage of the House of Prime.”

Halogen looked to Bluefire for a moment, then nodded. “The House of the Senators hold no objections to this union of the House of Kalis and the House of Primes.”

Optimus bowed to Halogen, and he and Nightingale knelt down. Halogen turned to a mechservant and took a small energon good from him. It was one half green and one half blue. He held it to show the audience, announcing “This cube represents Houses of Kalis and Prime. By accepting this good, they will accept each other’s Houses as their Houses, for good and for all.” He held the green side to Optimus’s lips. “Do you accept the House of Kalis as your own?”

“I do.” Optimus took a bite of the cube, cleanly splitting it green from blue, and chewed the bite with dignity before swallowing.

Halogen held the remains to Nightingale. “Do you accept the House of Prime as your own?”

“I do.” She took the rest of the good from him, noting briefly it was one of the best tasting goods she’d ever had.

Halogen stepped away, washing his servo in a bowl provided for him, and Mechalight stepped to stand between them. He started chanting in the Primal Vernacular, calling on Primus to bless the engagement and the future union. She knew the words, but she didn’t try to interpret them in the moment. Her mind was filled with recognizing she was officially betrothed to a mech she’d never met, and that she would be expected to bond and merge with enough to create at least one newspark. It would be nerve wracking, if she hadn’t been through this before.

Mechalight turned to a Temple Acolyte at his side and picked up a brush from the bowl they held. He turned back to the couple and stood before Nightingale, tilting her helm up. “With this brush, I mark you as betrothed, with the blessing of Primus. May he guide your spark to happiness in the bond.” He painted first the Mark of Primus, then the Mark of the Betrothed onto her faceplate.

“I thank you, High Priest Mechalight, for your blessing,” Nightingale said.

He smiled down at her, then took up his serious mantle again and went to Optimus, repeating the rite. After, he handed the brush back to his acolyte, and took Nightingale’s left servo and Optimus’s right, guiding them to rise “I present to you Lady Nightingale of the High and Noble House of Kalis and Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, newly betrothed, and soon to bond.” He joined their servos and they turned to face the audience, who began applauding.

Nightingale kept her calm face as she looked out over the crowd, containing nobility from across Cybertron, or their representatives, if the lord or lady could not be present themselves. She found it hard to put on a smile for them, despite her knowing it was expected.

She had a notification come across her HUD. She didn’t recognize it, except for a little glyph she’d seen signed at the base of the letter sent to her from the Prime. She opened it and it was a short message, written in common glyphs as opposed to the High and Noble vernacular.

[We can pretend together.]

She was surprised, but didn’t show it as she glanced over at Optimus. He caught her gaze and his optics made her an offer. An offer to try, and nothing more.

She smiled, lifting her right arm to wave at the applauding crowd. Out of the corner of her optic, she saw him do the same. To the world, they looked like a couple happy for their engagement. Internally, they knew that they’d made a promise to not instantly hate or fall for each other, but to try and make it work best for them. It was an offer too good to refuse.

#My Fics #Too Good To Refuse #The High and Noble Houses of Cybertron #fandom: transformers

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sacredrite-archived-blog · 7 years ago

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not sure if i can ask this clearly zzz but here goes: how do you feel about holiness and divinity in regards to luna? could be as simple as godly metaphors and the like in your writing but also, for luna's character itself? like how does she feel about her power, her mortality. how does she feel, living in this world with all its gods. how does she, an oracle, a human, stand before their godliness and compare?

i’ve honestly thought a lot about this. i think a lot of it mirrors my own conflicting emotions and opinions on god. i was raised catholic. brought up into an extremely religious family excluding my mother and siblings. a lot of the things i say luna has experience are things i myself have also experienced. so i guess this whole thing will be based off my own experiences as they’ve always been.

with what we’re shown in canon, she didn’t fear them. you can’t even say she flinched when calling upon leviathan. the only time she turned her head away was to block any debris from getting into her face during the summoning. in the jp version, the dialogue used was rough as said on her wiki. though, i guess i’ll provide some more context because english translations aren’t always direct or trustworthy.

i don’t know japanese. i’m kind of awful with it, but it’s always important to look at the kanji used. i don’t have any to present as of right now, but trust me, i am looking. for now i think what’s best is to listen to the japanese audio and then listen to the english audio. the japanese audio presents a more stern, taking-no-bullshit sounding luna than the english audio does. the dialogue is meant to come off as rough and strong. she’s suppose to sound fearless and demanding because that’s who she is suppose to be portrayed as. the jp dialect is key to understanding how she meant to feel towards them. just a small clue. besides that, we are offered little with her canonical opinion of them.

luna has been subjected so abuse and manipulation through the years she spent held captive. i’ll link a small meta of it right here.

every time i researched a case ( due to my interested in criminology ), i always heard the same thing. when tragedies strike, your faith it shaken. i don’t think luna had much faith in the gods after tenebrae was invaded and her mother was murdered. i don’t have much with in god because of all that had happened to me. yet, due to being raised in an extremely religious environment, i still catch myself praying to him. still believing in him. i don’t even know 100% if i believe him to exist. in luna’s case, their gods do exist and even if she doesn’t have much faith in them, she will still end up praying. in a weird way, it’s comforting yet a constant reminder that there could’ve been a way to stop the bad stuff from happening. you grow to resent the act even if you have moments where you believe it is the only way to find a little moments of peace.

they’ve done absolutely nothing for her.

( they were gods, though. was it even their duty to stop everything bad from happening? to them, no. these are mortals who could only dream of being on their level. their world was their natural order and what happened to them wasn’t any of their business. their concern was bringing light back to their world. )

what do you truly hate about religion? what aspects of it caused you to grow to resent it? for animosity for it to blossom? sometimes the answer is simple, but other times its not. when you’ve grown up around holiness and gods, it’s a habit to abide by it. you scorn it, you curse it, but you had grown attached to idea finding comfort in it. you were made to believe that following the path of god(s) is the only foundation you’ll have. not everyone views religion like this, but i find a lot of people do based on how they were brought up.

regarding where she stands with her status, rites, and with the gods it’s…complicated. she takes pride in being the oracle. it makes her feel of positive use to those around her when she was too weak to do anyhing during niflhiems invasion. her calling to bring noctis to his destiny was defiance against the empire. it felt like she was cursing them for all the damage they had caused to her kingdom, her family and herself. it’s selfish. she won’t admit it, though. while it feels like freedom, it’s something worse than death for her. noctis is important to her. he’s her childhood friend and she is meant to stand beside him as oracle. sending him to fulfill his destiny is equivalent to murdering him with her own bare hands. this scares her. it scares her because she doesn’t want to be at the same level as her captors, her abusers.

i really do think there is a part of her that wants to be like “screw it, i don’t want to do this if it means he has to suffer.” but that would be sacrilegious. it’d be hurting more people than she wants. she is forced to choose between the tight emotional attachment she has to him and the entire world. people she doesn’t feel attached to at all. they were doomed from the start.

luna strives to be the gods equals. to prove that she is just as worthy as they are. she has an inferiority complex that will end up dictating her feelings and emotions. to be seen as below someone angers her. she desires to be above them or equal to them. she wants to be above the empire. she wants to be the gods equals. she wants them to respect her. she wants the empire to fear her. she wants it all but its so difficult to have when you don’t even actually know who you really are yourself.

lunafreya struggles with C-PTSD. her sense of identity is nonexistent. she had been stripped of it all when the invasion occurred and nothing more than their pawn in the game. her status is all she has and she is desperate to to keep it.

she no longer wants to be controlled. she doesn’t want pity. she doesn’t want to inferior. she doesn’t want to be some weak little girl anymore. she will demand respect because she did no suffer for so long to only be regarded as a lowly mortal that had no place in summoning levithan. this is where the jp dialect used comes in. it’s gritty and demanding of respect and an audience. she will not take any less. if she is to follow the prophecy, she will do so with her head held high and a glare directed towards the six. she will do it begrudgingly and she will do it how she sees fit.

to be looked down on is seen as a threat. it’s seen as a challenge. she’s hate them, but they have been apart of her life since she was born. they are a bad habit she can’t break. it’s like inhaling cigarette smoke. even if it feels good in the moment it will only do her harm.

she will play with role of martyr for as long as she needs to, but she will never ever let them treat her lower than dirt for the suffering they allowed to happen to her. for the sick prophecy that was thrust into her arms where they forced her to obliged because it meant life and death all their world.

luna does not feel she can be selfish. she doesn’t feel she has a right to complain. it’s been ingrained in her head that she is suppose to be a symbol of peace and harmony. of beautiful light and godly nature. this doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where she wants to drop it all and just go against them in spite.

i don’t think it’s easy to completely give up all you have been forced to digest from a very young age, but god, does she wish it was.

when she was younger, luna resented her mother as well. she was a child and didn’t know where blame should be placed. she still isn’t even completely 100% sure to put it all. she will blame herself and she will blame the gods and she will blame the empire and she will blame her mother. sylva waited so long to pass the mantle to her and then she died. when luna finally became oracle, it was as if all the burdens her mother carried became her own in an instant.

anger comes with the package of abuse and pain. but no one is really sure where to focus it.

she’s only a human that was touched by the astrals powers. she is only human and she knows it, but she wants to be something more. she wants to finally be in control.

it’s just the one thing she strives for. if she can finally be her own person and understand who she is and feel free from the gods, she can finally be at peace. trauma is a tricky thing. nothing makes sense and it’s always a hurricane of emotions. she has a lot of pent up frustrations. she has a right to be livid, but she’s self destructive because of it.

“i do not fear death” is akin to “i don’t care if i die as long as i do what must be done.” the luna we have seen in the game and in kingsglaive was got damn suicidal. death was never going to be as bad as living was for her. in fact, it would be a gift. it is release. her obsession with her calling was little her knocking at deaths door. it was unhealthy. her resolve was unhealthy. no one ever points this out. she didn’t let her fear things because she felt she wasn’t allowed to. she truly didn’t because she had suffered for so long that dying didn’t matter. she takes the starscourge into her body and there is no need to fear death because it would always be lurking around the corners for her. passing the ring to noctis and leading him to his destiny was her last mark on the world. it was suppose to be fulfilling having accomplished what she needed, but it was empty and hollow. it didn’t make her feel anything but deep regret and sadness.

“my prayers have been answers, my calling fulfilled.” this line does automatically mean she was happy about it. it just tells us she hoped she could do what she had been told to. she and noctis were born to die for the people and it wasn’t fair. it will never be fair. but if she was being sentence to death she might as well keep moving forward towards it.

to put it all simply, luna felt cursed. despite her title as oracle, she had always been seen as below others and it angers her to no end. she is well aware she was doomed from the beginning, but fuck, she wished it was different. the only thing she can do is keep going.

#dualstarred #ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʳᵃʸˢ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏʸ ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵖᵉˡˡ ʰᵉʳ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ; headcanons #this ended up way fucking longer than i expected #welp

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marcusssanderson · 6 years ago

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50 Brother Quotes to Celebrate the First Men in Your Life

This “brother quotes” collection will help you celebrate and appreciate them.

Our sibling relationships play an important role in our lives. Though your parents might be key figures in your life, the relationships you have with your brothers and sisters affect you long-term.

Your brother is one of the most important men in your life. While your father might get a lot of credit, it’s your brother who will always be right there next to you, through thick and thin.

Your brother will always love you unconditionally, even knowing your faults. He will always defend you, make you look good, speak your language and keep your secrets.

Besides, your brother will always value your opinion and be your biggest supporter. Even if your dad is the leading male role in your life, as you get older, it’s your brother you end up relying on more.

To make you appreciate them more, below is our collection of inspirational, wise, and awesome brother quotes, brother sayings, and brother proverbs, collected from a variety of sources over the years.

Brother Quotes to Celebrate the First Men in Your Life

1.) “Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.”– Marc Brown

2.) “We came into the world like brother and brother; And now let’s go hand in hand, not one before another.” – William Shakespeare

3.) “Nothing can stop me from loving my brother.” — Brandy Norwood

4.) “The highlight of my childhood was making my brother laugh so hard that food came out his nose.” – Garrison Keillor

5.) “Being pretty on the inside means you don’t hit your brother and you eat all your peas – that’s what my grandma taught me..” – Lord Chesterfield

6.) “When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life.”– Antisthenes

7.) “I had a brother who was my saviour, made my childhood bearable.” – Maurice Sendak

8.) “I wish I could say I see my little brother more. We used to fight all the time but now that I don’t see him very often I cherish the time I have with him.” — Zac Efron

9.) “Being his real brother I could feel I live in his shadows, but I never have and I do not now. I live in his glow.” – Michael Morpurgo

10.) “The best way to get a puppy is to beg for a baby brother – and they’ll settle for a puppy every time.” – Winston Pendelton

Brother quotes to celebrate and appreciate them

11.) “True brothers are never blood-related. But born of the spirit.”- Lailah Gifty Akita

12.) “A brother is like gold and a friend is like diamond. If gold cracks you can melt it and make it just like it was before. If a diamond cracks, it can never be like it was before.”- Ali Ibn Abi Talib

13.) “My sister was drowning in the ocean once, and my brother and I dove in and saved her. True story. She owes us her life. It’s great leverage; we abuse it all the time!” – Matt Barr

14.) “The best thing about having four big brothers is you always have someone to do something for you.” – Chloe Moretz

15.) “Never make a companion equal to a brother.”– Hesiod

16.) “There is a destiny which makes us brothers; none goes his way alone. All that we send into the lives of others comes back into our own.” – Edwin Markham

17.) “A trial between brothers has no winners or losers.” – Ekonda proverb

18.) “It snowed last year too: I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.” – Dylan Thomas

19.) “I grew up with six brothers. That’s how I learned to dance – waiting for the bathroom.” – Bob Hope

20.) “There is no love like the love for a brother. There is no love like the love from a brother.” –Astrid Alauda

Brother quotes that recognize the key role they play in our lives

21.) “The happiest days of my youth were when my brother and I would run through the woods and feel quite safe.” – Rachel Weisz

22.) “He will make you cry but also make you laugh. He will make you scream but also dream.” –Maxime Lagacé

23.) “When I look at each of my brothers, I see two things. First, I see the next place I want to leave a rosy welt. Second, I see a good man who will always be there, no matter how hard life gets for me or him. Then, I get out of the way because I realize he’s coming at me with a wet dish towel”. — Dan Pearce

24.) “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a difficult time.” – Proverbs 17:17

25.) “Once a brother, always a brother, no matter the distance, no matter the difference and no matter the issue.”- Byron Pulsifer

26.) “I smile because you’re my brother. I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it.” – Unknown

27.) “Brothers don’t necessarily have to say anything to each other – they can sit in a room and be together and just be completely comfortable with each other.” – Leonardo DiCaprio

28.) “Your brother is your alter ego. Your friend and sometimes your hero.” –Maxime Lagacé

29.) “Ambitious. Caring. Positive. Strong. Helpful. Awesome. Reliable. Because I have a brother, I will always have a friend.” – Unknown

30.) “You are not my friend, you are my brother, my friend.” – Jaroslaw Jarzabowski

Brother quotes that will make you love them more

31.) “If thy brother wrongs thee, remember not so much his wrong-doing, but more than ever that he is thy brother.” – Epictetus

32.) “After a girl is grown, her little brothers — now her protectors — seem like big brothers.” – Terri Guillemets

33.) “Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk.”– Susan Scarf Merrell

34.) “A bad brother is far better than no brother.” – Swahili Proverb

35.) “Be grateful when you older brothers growl you, and when they tell you what to do and. Beautiful they are just trying to fulfil their duty of protecting you.” –unknown

36.) “There’s a lot of times that both myself and my brother wish, obviously, that we were just completely normal” – Prince Harry

37.) “Sisters and brothers are the truest, purest forms of love, family and friendship, knowing when to hold you and when to challenge you, but always being a part of you.” – Carol Ann Albright

38.) “I grew up with a younger brother, so I can get pretty rowdy.” – Sarah Wynter

39.) “We have flown the air like birds and swum the sea like fishes, but have yet to learn the simple act of walking the earth like brothers.” — Martin Luther King, Jr.

40.) “My Brother! Someone who hides my toys and breaks my dolls, but picks me up whenever I fall. Someone who stands by my side and holds my hand when things don’t go well, he helps me understand. Someone who makes funny faces just to sell how i would react. I love my brother and that’s a fact.” — Alejandra

Other awesome brother quotes

41.) “If we are not our brother’s keeper, at least let us not be his executioner.” –Marlon Brando

42.) “There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother. Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.” — Anna Quindlen

43.) “The younger brother must help to pay for the pleasures of the elder.” – Jane Austen

44.) “He is my most beloved friend and my bitterest rival, my confidant and my betrayer, my sustainer and my dependent, and scariest of all, my equal.” – Gregg Levoy

45.) “All men were made by the Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers.” – Chief Joseph

46.) “If you have a brother or sister, tell them you love them every day – that’s the most beautiful thing. I told my sister how much I loved her every day. That’s the only reason I’m OK right now.” – Amaury Nolasco

47.) “I, who have no sisters or brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends.” – James Boswell

48.) ‘Growing up, I absolutely loved skateboarding and dirt bike riding with my brother and the neighborhood kids.’ – Daniella Monet

49.) “Your brother is always the first male friend you will have in your life. Nobody will ever be able to understand your craziness like your brother and although you don’t see each other as much as you’d like, he will always remain your friend and be there for you when you need him the most. While people will come and go in your life, your brother will be in your heart for a lifetime.” – Ritu Ghatourey

50.) “She had always wanted a brother. And she had one now. Sebastian. It was like always wanting a puppy and being a hellhound instead.” – Cassandra Clare

Which of these brother quotes was your favorite?

If you’re like most people, your brother is the one person you spent the most time playing with, fighting with, laughing with and everything in between.

Although you can’t always live with him, you should be grateful that you have your brother. We hope these quotes will help you appreciate and value your brother more.

Did you enjoy these brother quotes? Which of the quotes was your favorite? Tell us in the comment section below. Also, don’t forget to share with your brothers and sisters.

The post 50 Brother Quotes to Celebrate the First Men in Your Life appeared first on Everyday Power.

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sage-nebula · 8 years ago

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thinking about your interpretation of xy ash and how he kinda ended up feeling like he had to act the mature hero-type because of how the others started looking up to him and now i'm wondering if he ever called up brock or cilan or tracey and asked 'em if this was what it felt like to be the "oldest"/"mentor" figure of the group or something. it's a cute but kinda bittersweet mental image tbh but i wonder what your thoughts would be on this?

My thoughts are that this ask has unbelievably perfect timing, because I was just thinking about this yesterday, I kid you not. Like, I know it might seem like I’m just saying that, but as I was going through the OS episodes for my Sass Ketchum compilations I came across that scene in OS009 (“The School of Hard Knocks”) where Brock pulls out an entire table, chairs, a tablecloth, decorative flower in a vase, plates, silverware, cups, tea seat, coffee pot, et cetera to make snacks and food for Ash and Misty to cure their grumps and get them to stop fighting, which really cemented his role as the Babysitter of the group, and that made me start thinking about the Babysitters Club in general and how the main group (i.e. Ash’s group) in the Kalos saga really didn’t have one.

Now, to begin with, I think it’s important to define what I mean by this, because I realize that referring to one of the characters in the main squad as “the Babysitter” might seem demeaning to the other characters, who are most definitely “the Babysat.” I don’t mean it in a demeaning way, however. I merely mean that one of the characters in the group—the Babysitter—fulfills a certain role within the squad and usually fits certain other pieces of criteria as well. Namely, the Babysitter is usually a teenager (how much older varies, mostly in the case of Tracey) who takes care of various “household” duties, such as cooking, laundry, navigation, et cetera. They can quell fights, give advice, and generally look out for the younger members of the group (i.e. Ash, another companion his age, and sometimes an even younger companion). While specific ages outside of select characters are usually left open to interpretation (e.g. both Ash and Misty are stated to be ten, but Brock’s age is an ambiguous “younger than the adults (and also Team Rocket), but older than Ash and Misty”), the Babysitter character is usually taller than the other two, generally more mature and responsible, and therefore can easily assumed to be a little older, even though they aren’t yet adults themselves. To date, here are our series Babysitters, by region:

Kanto: Brock

Orange Islands: Tracey

Johto: Brock

Hoenn: Brock

Sinnoh: Brock

Unova: Cilan

Brock and Cilan I always imagine to be about fifteen; Tracey I see as a little younger, maybe thirteen or fourteen (like, he really seemed to be the middle ground between Brock and Ash & Misty, but he was still a clearly defined Babysitter in that he a.) was brought in to cover for Brock, b.) sadly had to leave when Brock came back to reprise his role, and c.) was the team navigator and more experienced member of the Orange Islands trio, so even though he seems a bit younger than Brock, he still comes across as a bit older than Ash & Misty, and so I’d consider him a teenager in the 13-14 age range, versus the 15-16 range of Brock). Regardless of ages, though, all three of these characters fulfill the Babysitter role, with Brock having the longest tenure.

(And again, I know the term Babysitter might sound demeaning, but I really don’t mean it in a negative or derogatory way. The Babysat aren’t lesser because they’re being looked after by a teenager who is better at things like cooking, laundry, taking care of the kids when ill, et cetera. They’re just young and less experienced, and that’s okay. Besides, the Babysitters are like older siblings, tbh. Brock in particular had a lot of experience thanks to his ten younger biological siblings, so he was well equipped to take care of Ash, Misty, May, Max, and Dawn. It’s not a bad thing that these five were taken care of by Brock, and I certainly don’t use the terms “Babysitter” or “Babysat” in a mocking fashion. It’s just sort of how it ended up working out. =P)

Now, when I started thinking about what I’ve affectionately nicknamed The Babysitters Club last night (as a play on that old book series—though, notably, all of our PokéAni series babysitters are male!), I came to the realization that the main Kalos squad doesn’t have one. That isn’t to say there isn’t one in Kalos at all, of course; in The Strongest Mega Evolution, Alan (age 15) acts as the Babysitter for Manon (age 10) since she has just started out on her journey, and—much like Ash at the start of the OS—has absolutely no clue what she’s doing (thus he watched out for and protected her). Of course, this set-up is inverted in a few ways; to start with, while the main series usually has it so that the protagonist is one of the Babysat (Ash), in The Strongest Mega Evolution, our protagonist is the Babysitter, Alan. Secondly, Alan didn’t join Manon on her journey; rather, Manon kept following him around, inviting herself on his journey, basically making him babysit her against his will (at least at first; he warmed up to her over time). Lastly, Manon ended up too dependent on Alan, something he calls her on in TSME 4 (“You need to stop depending on me all the time”), which ended up hurting her journey rather than helping it, which is honestly part of why I disregard the XY saga’s ending for the two of them and fix it by having her resume her journey independently (as I feel he would gently push her to do, so she can build her confidence and independence as a trainer). Typically the Babysat don’t end up wholly depending on their Babysitter, but that’s what happened here. Regardless of these inversions, however, Alan definitely qualifies as a member of The Babysitters Club given that he is a teenager who, for at least part of the time, looks after a child who just started on her journey. (They both also fulfill the Badass and Child Duo trope, with Alan as the Badass and Manon as the Child. Granted, Alan is younger than the standard Badass given that he’s still a teenager rather than adult, but they fit the bill nonetheless.)

But while Alan is definitely a Babysitter in Kalos, the fact remains that he’s not part of the main group because he doesn’t travel with Ash. (And in fact, his relationship with Ash is not akin to the typical Babysitter - Babysat relationship; Alan and Ash treat each other as equals, whereas Brock took care of Ash and Ash looked to Brock for advice, and Alan protects Manon and Manon depends on him for that protection and strength.) And while Alan is not the Babysitter in Ash’s Kalosean group, the truth is that Ash’s Kalosean group doesn’t have a marked Babysitter. If anything, Ash, Serena, and Clemont all share the role of Babysitter for Bonnie, which is another thing that makes me feel like the ages for those three are more than a little borked / unbelievable.

What I mean by that is … I know that Ash is ten in the XY(&Z) series. I know this. But he doesn’t act ten, and this is one of the ways in which he doesn’t. The fact that, for the first time ever, he didn’t need a Babysitter in the group speaks to the fact that he should be a couple years older (that he, like Tracey, should be ~13/14). The fact that he, Serena, and Clemont share the typical Babysitter responsibilities speaks to this. Ash handles the protection, the heroism, the strength, the advice; he has to be the Hero™ for them because they all expect it, as do so many others in Kalos (e.g. Shouta, Tierno, Trevor, and Shauna all see him this way, too). While Ash never hero worshiped any of the Babysitters he traveled with, as I said, he did look to Brock for advice at times. The Babysitter is typically seen as more experienced and mature and reliable in this sense. They know what they’re doing, and in the Kalos saga, everyone assumed that Ash knew what he was doing, since he was The Ace. He tried to be that for them because they expected it of him, and in this way he graduated to The Babysitters Club. (Also, remember XYZ044, when he was able to help out with the cooking? Yeah, he was just helping rather than being the main cook, but still. There’s a marked difference there between how he and Misty flailed around in Johto when Brock was sick, or how he made poison in the SM saga. It makes you think he grew some, that he has learned some, that Brock would have wiped away tears of pride if he saw his baby brother helping make the food.)

Meanwhile, while I may be forgetting certain episodes or certain things, I seem to remember both Serena and Clemont handling things like cooking or laundry at different points. In fact, I specifically remember a lot of Discourse™ surrounding Serena making cookies for Ash, and I also seem to remember Clemont inventing something to make laundry easier (though it, like his other inventions, might have exploded at some point—but look, he tried, and therefore no one should criticize him!). Rather than having one character handle everything, as Brock did, I feel like the chores were shared between Ash, Serena, and Clemont whenever they were shown at all. The only one who didn’t really participate independently was Bonnie, since she was so little, meaning that in a way Ash, Serena, and Clemont were all the Babysitter at different points, whereas Bonnie was indisputably the Babysat. (Which, it might seem ridiculous to say that one little girl needs three Babysitters, but it’s not because she’s a problem child. She’s not. It’s that her three Babysitters needed help, hahaha.)

So yeah, what I’m driving at here is—the Kalos saga really didn’t have a defined Babysitter, which forced Ash to step up and Babysit himself, + his companions at various points, while his other two companions at least did help out when it came to the “household” chores. (I mean, of course they didn’t really have a house, but you know what I mean.) It was basically a situation where, they didn’t have an older teenager with them this time, they realized this belatedly, and thus had to make due on their own. Thankfully, they didn’t die. But I do think it’s yet another thing that makes Kalos!Ash feel a bit older to me. He’s still not as old as Alan, but I can’t help but see Kalos!Ash as ~13/14, particularly when you compare him (and Serena and Clemont, tbh) to characters like Manon, who we know just started out and who acts like the ten-year-old child she is. Ash (and Serena and Clemont) act like young teenagers, versus kids, and the fact that they didn’t have a traditional Babysitter among the party contributes to this feeling.

So, uh, to get back to your original question—I definitely think that what you’ve described is very fitting. In my personal view, I feel like part of the reason why Ash decided to up and leave Kalos on his own (before his companions announced their own plans) was that he was just so exhausted after everything. He did a good job of keeping it together and trying to hide it, but as we see after his loss to Wulfric and subsequent fight with Serena he got really, really tired of having to be the Hero™ all the time, of having to be strong and upbeat all the time. (Which, again, is part of why Alan was so good for him; Alan was so strong that it was acceptable in the eyes of everyone else if Ash lost against him, so Ash could battle his hardest and just have fun with the match rather than having pressure on his shoulders. Additionally, while he does offer Alan emotional support, Alan doesn’t look to him for that; rather, Ash can go after him and offer it of his own volition, and just be honest about it, admitting that he doesn’t know what to say but offering what he can anyway. He doesn’t have to feel like he’s going to be judged if he admits he doesn’t know what to say, and it’s not expected of him to offer support to Alan. It’s a much more freeing and emotionally healthy relationship for Ash, as we’ve discussed before.) I think he was pretty eager to go back home to Kanto because of how tiring that all was, and I also think this played a part in how he stayed in Kanto for a while, seemingly chilling with Delia before they won that lottery, and even then originally going to Alola on vacation. It’s telling, I feel, that Ash didn’t feel compelled to go on a journey again right away. (Er, at least, telling if we want to pretend there’s still some continuity. We all know how the writers are nowadays, but I like to dream.)

With all of that said, I feel like Ash might still be in kind of a mindset where he doesn’t necessarily talk about this right away, especially if he’s trying to take a break from everything in Kalos—but I feel like his friends could tell. Brock in particular, being the nurturing guy he is (and having traveled with Ash for four regions), would probably pick up on it immediately if he traveled to Pallet to visit Ash while he was in town, and would be like, “What’s on your mind?” but also, “Here, let me get you a cup of cocoa. You still take it with six marshmallows, right? And Pikachu, I’ve got a fresh batch of those treats you like with me, let me get them out of my bag.” And Ash would get to enjoy what it feels like to be taken care of for the first time in a long time, and would no doubt relish in it. (Meanwhile, Pikachu’s like, “MY FAVORITE TREATS, FUCK YEAH!!” … well, maybe a little less profane than that, but it’s all Pikaspeak, so who can tell. :P)

Anyway, to wrap up this super long answer: I do think that Ash had to be the Babysitter (or at least share Babysitting responsibilities) for Kalos, and I do think that wore on him to a degree, at least by the time of the journey’s end—not so much because he had to Babysit per se (because he also acted as a coach to May in some ways), but more so because it was that plus having to be The Ace and The Hero™ with everyone acting like the world was ending if he lost or showed any weakness. And I do think he would think, sometimes, about how this must have been how Brock, Tracey, and Cilan felt to some degree, and so when Brock was making his cocoa would probably try to help, until Brock told him, no no, sit down, it’s just cocoa! He doesn’t mind making it. (Ash would, after some time of the two of them talking, probably say, like, “Hey, by the way—thanks for always looking out for me when we traveled together. And now. This, too.” And Brock would smile and shrug and say:

“No problem. I’m always happy to be here for you.”

Ash would probably drop by Oak’s lab to thank Tracey for not letting him and Misty die in the Orange Islands, too, and then call Cilan to thank him for helping him and Iris. You know. He knows how it feels now so he really feels compelled to thank them all.)

So yeah, absurdly long answer aside, I really do feel that this is the case! And your timing is perfect since I was just thinking about it, haha. Thanks for sending this in!!

#em-exceeds-change-zearu #of course as of SM Ash's characterization has been reset AGAIN so he's nowhere near qualified to be a Babysitter anymore #he's back to being the Babysat #though who will be his Babysitter when he sets off on the Island Challenge is tbd #i could see either Mallow or Kiawe but they're both Trial Captains so??#maybe it will be Roto. Roto as the Babysitter and Ash and Lillie as the Babysat #i could see that too #anyway Brock is undoubtedly the Founder and Chairman of The Babysitters Club #not only was he the original Babysitter but he had the longest tenure #but Tracey and Cilan and Alan are all members too #time will tell if we have another human Babysitter or if RotoDex joins the ranks #we will see what we see #(but yeah Kalos Ash could qualify)#(but his characterization was reset again so . . .)

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losille2000 · 8 years ago

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Building Happiness, Chapters 13 - 15

CHAPTER NUMBER: Chapter 13 - Chapter 15 AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH ALEX/CHARACTER: AU!Alexander Skarsgård GENRE: Romance FIC SUMMARY: Life as Alexander knows it unravels when he takes over as CEO of the family business for his retiring father—especially when his modern ideals collide with the past. The fact that he also has to deal with a distracting new assistant doesn’t help matters any, either. Alex struggles to step out from under his father’s shadow and eventually find happiness and fulfillment in his career and love life. RATING: M WARNINGS: Language and sex. AUTHORS NOTES: See them here. I am working on reposting this story as I am bringing some of the characters into The Chocolate Affair, namely Alex and Rory. Old fic, unedited, you’ve been warned. Rory and Christine will have a similar backstory, but that’s on purpose.

Prologue-Chapter 3 - Chapters 4-6 - Chapters 7-9 - Chapters 10-12

Chapter 13

Alexander listened to the soft drawl of Rory's message greeting before he removed the cell phone from his ear and cancelled the call. He quickly plugged in a text message to her and then set the phone down with a sigh.

He was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but like it'd been for the majority of this two-week sojourn to Sweden, his inner clock hadn't evened out yet. Glancing at the clock, he noted that he had to be ready for a meeting with his father in two hours. At least this was the last meeting before the final agreements and contracts were signed before Christmas. Then he could go back to Chicago and forget about the last three weeks and spend time with the only person he really wanted to.

His father had remained characteristically mum since Alexander had arrived in Sweden, and only spoke to him about business issues when they were in the office together. When they weren't, Alexander spent his time visiting friends and family, especially devoting his time to his mother and younger siblings. They were the ones that were going to be most affected by this, and he wanted to make sure everything was in order before he left.

Unsurprisingly, his father had said nothing about Rory. He'd made himself infinitely clear about his opinion of her before they left New York. His father wasn't one to keep bringing an issue up once he had given his orders or opinions, but he was renowned for maintaining a cold shoulder.

Alexander struggled to artfully dodge her being brought up in conversation by others in his family, to prevent his father from affording him with disapproving sounds and expressions. He'd been mostly successful, and spoke with Rory when his father and Marissa were not around. That was, when they had a chance to speak—with a six-hour time difference, it made telephoning difficult.

But not impossible.

They'd even found time to have a few conversations of a personal nature, though Alexander was increasingly finding it difficult to really separate personal from professional. How was it even possible when his personal life was his professional one, being a member of his family's business? Sure, there were conversations he had with her regarding setting appointments for meetings on his return and other duties, but all other conversation lay in that murky middle ground.

He'd almost slipped and asked his father how he'd kept the two separate for so long with Marissa. Wisely, he'd stopped himself. That would open a whole can of worms they couldn't deal with right now. Especially when he already knew how his father did it. He and Marissa did not have an actual relationship based on love, or understanding, or anything remotely pertinent to a long term commitment with each other. No, his father was in that relationship for sex and Marissa for money and social climbing. His father didn't love anyone but himself.

There was a knock at his bedroom door, interrupting his thoughts. "Come in."

"Dad's here," said Eija as she poked her head in the room.

"What? Why?" Alexander asked. "I'm supposed to meet him at the office in a few hours."

Eija shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. You look like shit. Still didn't get any sleep?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't find the point of trying to change my sleep schedule for my last night here."

"True," she said. "Anyway, he's here."

Alexander nodded. "I'll be out in a few."

Eija shut the door and he stood from his seat, finding a pair of jeans and a shirt, changing into them. He splashed cold water on his face and ran a wet comb through his hair. It would have to do for now.

When he came out into the living room, his father was investigating a recessed cabinet system across the room. "Morning," he said and turned to him.

Alexander pursed his lips. "We have a meeting in two hours, you couldn't wait?"

"No," he said. "Your mother has really fixed this place up."

Alexander snorted and rolled his eyes. He had spent his free time over the last week helping his mother, Eija and Valter get settled into their new condo in one of the first buildings his father had built in the seventies. At least his father had the decency to fund the renovation of the space for them—it had been her home during the last two divorces without the desperately needed renovations. But for all Alexander knew, it was a stipulation in the divorce papers this time around.

Or his father was just saving face.

"Yeah," he said and walked to the kitchen where he poured himself some coffee.

"Sit down, Alexander," he commanded.

Alexander raised a brow at him. It wasn't worth it trying to defy him at this late stage. He didn't need a stupid argument over not following his orders. Sitting down into one of the comfortable wingback chairs, his father followed suit and lowered onto a couch facing him.

"You may have surmised from some of our meetings with our lawyers this week that I plan to transfer all of the company's shares to you," he announced. He was never one to beat around the bush.

"Yes," Alexander replied, even though he had known beforehand. Honestly, he had thought that Rory might have been wrong; his father had kept this information to himself until the last possible minute.

"As such, I will recommend that you be named chairman of the board in my departure," he said. "You will have majority control of the board whether they choose you for the job or not."

Alexander nodded. "I know how it works."

His father nodded. "I feel that you are the right man for the job, Alexander. I just hope you don't disappoint me."

"I'll endeavor not to," Alexander replied.

His father nodded and looked straight at him. "There is one matter of concern, however."

"And that is?"

"Your assistant," he said.

Alexander shook his head and stood up, not believing the conversation was turning back to Rory. "What about her?"

"Marissa told me about the conversation they had at the hospital, and needless to say, she gave me an interesting report," he said. "Are you sleeping with her?"

Again, not one to beat around the bush.

Alexander gave him a hard look. Not yet, he wanted to say, but didn't. He gave him a derisive snort. "Even if I was, you have absolutely no room to talk."

"Are you?" he asked, point blank.

"No," Alexander said. "For fuck's sake, no! But should I wish to do it in the future, you have no right to try to prevent it."

"We don't sign anything until December," he threatened. "It's not difficult to change names and give it to Gurra."

Alexander shook his head. "You're such a fucking hypocrite. She's a marvelous assistant. She's put up with your bullshit—hell, she was the one that made sure Marissa got to a hospital in New York. I would have left Marissa to suffer on her own. But despite Marissa's attitude toward her the entire week we were in New York, which by the way, you were completely oblivious to, Rory helped her. And waited with her. And here you are saying that even if I were inclined in that way, I couldn't pursue it? Well fuck you, you can keep everything or give it all away to Gurra. I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. Who I sleep with is my choice and has no bearing on my ability to run the company."

"Alexander, be realistic here," his father said. "She's not one of us. She's not like us."

"No, she isn't," Alexander said. "She's most definitely not like us. Or like Marissa. Or like any of the women I've ever dated that you've approved of."

"So you are seeing her," he said.

Alexander threw his hands up angrily and walked away. He had never been more livid in his life. How did his father have any right to come in here and tell him whom to date?

"I am thirty-five-fucking-years-old," he yelled. "I can make my own decisions about who I date. Take your fucking shares and shove them up your ass. I don't want them. I don't want to become chairman or CEO or whatever the fuck you want me to be. I don't want any of it if it's going to turn me into you!"

He pushed a chair violently out of his path and made his way to the kitchen. There was a silence in the apartment until he heard his father's hard-soled shoes on the tile floor coming toward him. His large countenance overtook the small kitchen.

"You have until December 16th to fire and break it off with her," Stellan said. "If you do not, then I'll know you aren't serious about your future and you will be let go, just like her."

His father turned on his heels and walked out the door with a slam. Alexander clenched his hand around an empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. With an anguished shout, Alexander threw the mug across the room. It felt good to yell. It didn't relieve the pressure or pounding in his head or the sinking feeling in his stomach, but it certainly felt good. But not as good as watching and hearing the ceramic shatter into tiny little pieces and land on the floor.

Alexander looked up at the ceiling, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears in his eyes. He refused to cry like some child over this. He was a grown man who had every right to make this decision for himself. The answer was clear, but the materialistic side of his conscience played the devil's advocate. Could he really walk away from it all? As much as he loathed his father at the moment, he liked his job. He liked most of people he worked with.

Could he find the courage to walk away? Could he give it all up for a woman? A woman in which he wasn't sure was The One? Could he ruin the rest of his life when there was more chance that they wouldn't make it as a couple than a chance they would make it?

"Alexander?" said a weak voice beside him. He turned to find his sister standing in the doorway, keeping a good distance from him as though she were worried he might strike out at her.

"Yeah?" he said.

Eija pushed away from the door and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Alexander sighed. "No, I'm not."

She squeezed harder. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said, sucking back his tears. He reached around and pulled her into a hug. "Don't worry about it. It will all work itself out in the end."

Eija nodded and sighed. "Are you sure?"

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. Honestly, he didn't know.

"Do you still need a ride to school?" he asked.

"My roommate was supposed to come get me, but I can tell her not to worry about it," she said.

Alexander smiled. "Let me go get my stuff packed up and then I'll take you up there. I'm going to go home."

"Dad will be mad if you don't go to the meeting this morning," she pointed out.

He snorted. "Somehow I don't think it really matters anymore. Go get ready and let me get my stuff put together. Is Mom up?"

"I don't see why she wouldn't be after that fight," she said.

"Good," he said. "Then I can go say goodbye."

Eija nodded and walked off toward the hall where her room was. He hung his head. Yes, he needed to get out of this country as soon as he could manage.

As Rory disembarked from her flight at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta, she let out a long breath. Flying wasn't her favorite thing to do, and it made her laugh how just twice in a private jet had pampered her enough that she had forgotten how little room one had in coach seating. At least the flight had been smooth and she was now on the ground to stretch her legs.

She stopped off at the restroom and then headed down the long terminal toward the tram that would take her to baggage claim and the rental car building. For being one of the busiest airports in the world, it seemed pretty quiet this late at night, but then she was sure she was one of the last flights to land before final red eyes took off.

When she stepped off of the elevator from the tram into baggage claim, she heard her name called. Looking around, she saw Bobby and grumbled a little. As excited as she was to see her little brother, she had looked forward to the solo two hour ride down to Columbus. After a very busy week at the office because Alexander wasn't there to do any of his work, she needed the quiet time to regroup before what was sure to be a test of her patience and good grace over the following two days.

Somehow her mother and sister had convinced her to fly out a few weeks before the wedding for a dress fitting. The Saturday dress fitting had turned into a pre-game for the bridal shower to be held that afternoon. Rory had decided that since she wouldn't be busy with anything pertaining to her job, she'd go for a day and fly back—the flights were cheap enough when she used the company discount. She also thought it would be a gesture of good will because she felt like she needed a whole heap of good karma right about now.

"Rory!" Bobby called again.

She sighed and turned, walking to the group of people waiting for passengers behind a yellow line. He threw his arms around her. "Hey, little brother."

He'd long since stopped being her little brother as he stood a good six inches over her. Maybe younger brother was the better term for him now.

"Hi," he said, kissing her forehead. "Surprise!"

"You know, I was going to rent a car," Rory said.

"Mama told me to come get you on my way down from school," he said.

Rory sighed. "She really needs to stop meddling. I was perfectly fine to drive two hours to the house. Now I have to face my possible death with you driving like a bat out of hell down 85."

"You'll be fine," he said, reaching for her computer bag. "I promise."

"Famous last words." She handed the other bags over to him.

He laughed and led her out to the parking garage. They were out on the freeway before he turned to look at her. "So how are you? How's the job?"

Rory shrugged. "I'm exhausted, but I like it enough."

"You don't seem too impressed by it," Bobby said.

"The newness wore off within the first few weeks," she said. "Remember the trip to New York I was telling you about in the email I sent?"

"Yeah," he said.

Rory nodded. "Yeah, it didn't go as planned and I said some things I shouldn't have to my boss' father… the one who's leaving the company."

Bobby laughed and shook his head. "Trademark Fisher right there. Just letting your opinions out."

She sighed. "I would be in Sweden with my boss right now if I hadn't mouthed off. It's terrible."

But also probably the best thing for everyone. After she had spent the night with Alexander upon returning to Chicago, she didn't trust herself to keep her heart hidden rather than prominently displayed on her sleeve.

"Well, at least you're still employed," he said. "That's the important part."

Rory nodded. "You're right, it is."

They lapsed into silence again, listening to the soft twang of the country music on the radio. She yawned into her hand and turned to look at him.

"So how's school?"

"Good," he said. "My internship application for the aquarium was accepted and I start it with my last semester. And I started sending out grad school applications."

"You still trying to get out to Scripps?"

"I am, but my other top schools are UC Santa Barbara and MIT," he said. "They're all impossible to get into… but I'm still trying."

"Bobby Ray, with your grades, I don't see why you wouldn't be accepted to one of them," she replied.

He smiled. "I know. I'm just trying not to think about it and focus on the last year of undergrad. That's the most important."

"It is."

The electronic ding of her cell phone filled the brief silence between them. Rory picked it up to find a message from Alexander.

Need to talk to you as soon as possible. Call me when you touch down. I don't care about the time.

"What is it?"

"My boss," she said. "Do you mind if I call him?"

"Isn't it awfully late to be doing business?" Bobby asked.

Rory glanced at him. "I'm a personal assistant. I'm on call all the time."

Bobby huffed. "Hope you get paid decently for it."

"Oh, there are perks," she said. And major downfalls, like dealing with egomaniacal family members of said boss.

"I don't care. Call him. We have a long drive."

Rory nodded and hit the speed dial on her phone, listening to the ringing. He didn't pick up, and she quickly did the math in her head. It would be around six in the morning there… he probably was asleep right now. His message greeting came on.

"Hey Alexander, I've touched down in Atlanta and am on the road to my parents' house right now," she said. "If you need me, call me."

She hung up the call and slipped the phone back in her purse. "So much for that."

Bobby laughed and they fell into companionable silence, watching the dark road ahead of them. By the time they reached Columbus, Alexander still hadn't returned her call. Normally, he was pretty good about getting back to her, so she grew worried, but he may just have been in some important meeting. Or with his father and reluctant to take a call from her.

Before they pulled up the driveway to her parents' home, she typed a quick message to him. I'm in Columbus and will talk to you tomorrow morning when I get up. If it's an emergency, call me.

She looked up at the house, seeing that most of the lights were still on inside. The side motion light flicked on, signaling their arrival. On cue, because she knew her father would have been watching and waiting for the light to turn on, the front door opened.

Her father was the first out, and he looked just like she'd left him. He was tall and straight-backed, with a large barrel chest that, while wearing a dress uniform, displayed his medals and commendations wonderfully. His gray hair was a little longer, though, than the crew cut he had maintained on active duty. But he seemed happy and healthy.

"Daddy!" she called as soon as she jumped out of her brother's truck. His strong arms accepted her as she crashed into him for a long hug, holding him close. "Oh, I missed you, Daddy."

"I missed you, too, sweet pea," he said with a jolly laugh and kissed her forehead. He gave her one last squeeze as he stepped back and looked her over. "You look wonderful."

Rory smiled. She loved both her parents, but she and her father had always had a close bond with each other. He was a strict disciplinarian and often ran the house like he did the base, but there was never any doubt in her mind that he loved her or that her siblings were loved. Not like some other fathers she had met recently.

He left her there to go get her suitcase from the car. Rory turned to find her mother peeking out of the screen door. It thwapped shut as she stepped outside. There were tears in her mother's eyes.

"Mama, why are you crying?" Rory asked.

"I'm just so happy to see you, Aurora Jean," she said. When Rory hugged her, she didn't let go and squeezed harder. "Mama, I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry," she said and stepped back, dabbing at her eyes. Rory was confused. Where she had an amazing relationship with her father, she and her mother had more often than not been at each other's throats growing up. While Rory had no doubt that she was missed, she didn't think it would be like this upon her return. "Oh, you look so beautiful, Rory. What have you done with your hair? And are you wearin' makeup?"

"I just blew out my hair this morning," she said. "And yes, I'm wearing makeup. I came straight from work."

Leave it to her mother to remark on those two things.

"Well, you look wonderful," her mother said. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"Mom, I've only been gone for three months," she said.

"Oh, I know," she laughed. "But I'm just a mama missin' her chicks. What with Bobby off at college, you god knows where… and now Whitney's leavin' me."

"Why is she leaving?" Rory asked.

Her mom looked stricken. "She didn't tell you?"

"It's not like we make a habit of having long conversations about her life, mother," Rory said.

"Walker's bein' sent to Korea," she said. "That's why the weddin' has to happen so soon."

"Wow," Rory said and shook her head. "No, I didn't know."

Her father came up the steps and looked at them. "Come on, ladies. I bet Rory's tired."

"I am," she said, following her father in. "No one else is here?"

"No," her mother said. "Charlie's on his shift right now… and Whitney and Walker had a meetin' at the florist and then they were goin' home."

Rory sighed. Well, at least she could wait to face that until the morning. "Mama, can I go right to bed? I am really tired… but we'll talk tomorrow."

"Sure, baby," she said. "Oh, Robert, help your daughter up the stairs."

She laughed as her father glanced back down the stairs that he was already halfway up, carrying her suitcase. Rory turned to her mother and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Mama."

"Night," she called as Rory made her way upstairs.

Her father set up her suitcase in her old room and set her computer bag down on the chair. He turned around to her. "Well, here you go, sweet pea."

"Thanks, Daddy," she said and kissed his cheek as well.

He smiled warmly. "We'll catch up in the morning over some coffee."

"Okay," she said, yawning into her hand. "Night."

He shut the door on his way out. Rory sighed and sat back on her tiny bed with a sigh. Already she was exhausted and she hadn't seen the other family members. At least this trip would be limited to two days. She could do that. Two days.

Rory checked her cell one last time after she changed into her pajamas and plugged in her phone to charge. Alexander hadn't messaged her or called her. As she rolled over and closed her eyes, she figured Alexander was a big boy. He could take care of himself, though she truly hoped that his insistence to speak with her wasn't because of an emergency.

She yawned once more and turned on her other side. She'd figure it out in the morning.

Chapter 14

Rory turned in the mirror, looking at the back of the bridesmaid dress her sister had chosen. A startling shade of Barbie pink, it somewhat resembled cotton candy in volume and frothiness. She had never seen a dress more hideous and yet it was thoroughly Whitney's style. Rory glanced at the other bridesmaids trying on their dresses and noted that she was also the only red head present. Clearly, Whitney didn't realize Barbie pink didn't go well with her skin tone and hair. Or maybe that was her point.

Otherwise, the bodice was okay, if a little matronly. But Rory supposed this was the best that could be done being on a small budget and trying to find enough dresses in the same style in such a short amount of time.

"Oh, Rory, you look great," Whitney called from across the room. "You must have lost some weight since you moved away!"

Rory rolled her eyes as the seamstress pulled the side in, using a pin to hold her work in place. "I told you I was a ten, Whitney. You ordered a twelve. The dress is big because of it."

"You're a ten?" the seamstress said around a mouthful of pins.

"Yes," she said.

"We actually have a ten in the shop," she said. "Let me see if that one fits better so any alterations won't skew the design that much."

"There's a design?" Rory asked, glancing in the mirror again. "It looks like Candyland threw up on my dress."

The seamstress hid her giggle. Her sister was the Bridezilla of all Bridezillas, and the dress shop attendants obviously had just about enough of her. Rory had heard the story about trying on nearly thirty wedding gowns before deciding on one. And on that one, there were multiple alterations.

Rory went into the dressing room and the seamstress came back with the right sized dress. She handed back the larger one, reaching out and stopping the woman. "I'm sorry."

She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm used to it."

Rory chuckled and quickly changed into the new dress, stepping back outside. As the seamstress pinned some adjustments, Whitney came over to inspect. "You're practically falling out of it now, Rory."

"I am not," Rory said, glancing at the other three bridesmaids. "I'm just as out as they are."

"Well, theirs are perkier," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rory wanted to hit her. But she didn't. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry mine actually move and that I don't have Frankentits like your friends."

Whitney harrumphed and stomped off, speaking lowly to her three friends. Rory sighed. She didn't even know why she had to be included in this wedding party. Those group of girls had terrorized her enough growing up. Wasn't it bad enough that her ex happened to be the groom? Something about it just didn't seem fair or right, but Rory didn't complain because it made her mother happy to have all of her children in the wedding.

"Yours are better," the seamstress whispered with a small smile.

"Thanks," Rory said in confidence. "My boyfriend doesn't complain about them." As a matter of fact, she found it difficult to pull his attention away from them even before he had become her boyfriend.

"You have a boyfriend?" Whitney squealed and bounced over to her.

Rory cringed. "How the hell did you hear me?"

Whitney scoffed. "I have supersonic hearing."

"Yeah," Rory said.

"So what's his name? Where did you meet him? What's he do? What does he look like?" Whitney pressed for details. Rory was actually a little dumbfounded at her sister's interest in the new guy. Of course Whitney was interested in any man that would cross her path—she was just that type of girl—but she had never been outright interested like this. Even when Rory had been with Walker, she hadn't been this interested.

Rory shook her head and backtracked. She didn't need this attention right now. "He's not necessarily a boyfriend. He's more a guy who is my friend."

"Fine, you don't have to tell me," Whitney said, "but I'm tellin' Daddy when we get home."

She rolled her eyes. Great. She'd have to come clean sooner or later. But that wasn't now. And it certainly wasn't to Whitney, just so Whitney could insult her. Finally, Whitney went back to her friends, leaving Rory in peace.

"You know," the seamstress said, "I could probably get you in an eight."

Rory shook her head. "No… I don't want the girls to be that tight in there. I'd like to breathe."

She nodded. "Then I'm done if you want to go change."

"Thanks," Rory said, glad to get out of the pink monstrosity. She emerged back into the fray in her jeans and sweater, ready to go back home. Fortunately, so were the others.

They made their way to the house for the "bridal shower". Rory had always thought her sister would bankrupt her family by going all out with a traditional wedding, complete with all the fancy parties she could stuff into the time before the actual ceremony.

So it really came as a surprise to her when she was informed that the shower was to be a barbeque where everyone involved in the wedding was invited to come, eat, and help assemble favors and decorations. Actually, if Rory were telling the truth, she felt like the Pod People had come down and taken over her sister's body. Whitney was not normally conscious of anyone but herself and her needs. That Whitney had decided to plan this herself and do most of the decorations herself boggled the mind.

But Rory let it slide. She thought it was good that Whitney had changed, seemingly for the better. Walker couldn't have done it, but Rory wondered if maybe their relationship together wasn't slowly making them decent people.

As they pulled up to the house, Rory noticed there were children running around the house, screaming at each other and laughing. Most of the women there were talking shop over some sweet tea in the formal living room away from all the men yelling at the college football games on the television in the back room.

Since they were the last to arrive, they were welcomed like the conquering heroes, back from the wars. Little did they know, Rory mused. Whitney had shown up at eight this morning and kidnapped her for breakfast, then some shopping and finally the dress fitting. She hadn't seen anyone else since she had arrived in Georgia so made her rounds through the house.

Charlie grabbed her first and picked her up in a big hug, swinging her around. "I missed you, girlie," he said, kissing her cheek.

"I missed you, too," she said.

He was wearing his utility belt, a pair of dress slacks and a City of Columbus Police Department polo, showing off his muscle-bound physique. Charlie was the kind of man she wouldn't want to cross; he looked like he could do serious damage. And he could, if provoked. But to those who knew him, he was just a giant teddy bear.

"Are you coming off or going back on?" she asked, motioning to his work clothes.

"Going back on," he said. "I'm doubling up right now so I have the week of the wedding off."

Rory sighed. "Lucky you."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, lucky me."

She giggled and hugged him again.

"You know, I'd rather have my ass chewed out by the LT a million times while poking both my eyes out with a spoon than deal with Whitney that week," he said. "I'm only here now because Mama made the food and because you're here to visit."

"Which one ranks higher?" she asked with a laugh.

He seriously thought about it for a minute. "Food. Definitely."

"You're such a man," she said, shoving him.

Charlie reached over and grabbed her in a headlock, rubbing her head with his knuckles.

"Stop! Don't! Stop it! Erg," she laughed, trying to push away from him. His grip was stronger, but he finally let go. "Asshole!"

"Aurora Jean, we don't talk like that in this house!" came the call of her father's voice from the couch. He didn't even turn from the game.

"Sorry, Daddy," she said and shoved her brother again, this time jumping out of his reach before he could catch her. Rory stuck her tongue out at him and turned to go search for a beer. She found them, but it was in the sunroom where Walker and his brothers sat with a few of their friends watching the Auburn football game in exile. Honestly, she was shocked they were even allowed to turn the Auburn game on in the same house as her father.

She took a deep breath and stepped into the room, giving them a quick smile when they glanced up at her. Walker looked good. Damn good, actually. Like he'd been training more and had put on about twenty pounds of muscle. He was just another handsome man she might see on the street.

Rory was both surprised and relieved that the pain wasn't there any longer. In fact, it had been replaced with a sense of relief knowing she didn't have to deal with him. Their relationship had never been a healthy one, and she recognized that fact. Despite the current issues facing her with Alexander, this new relationship was still a much better relationship than the one she had with Walker. And considering how bad her relationship with Alexander could end up being, that was saying a lot.

"Hey, Rory!" Jake, Walker's youngest brother, called.

"Hi, Jakey," she said, hugging him as he jumped over to her. Funnily, she had always liked him best out of the three Stone brothers, even Walker. He was just too young for her. "How's life treating you?"

"Not too bad, actually," he said. "I started college at Auburn in August."

"Really? Congratulations!" she replied. "What are you studying?"

He shrugged. "I don't know yet. Maybe history. I might teach."

"Teaching is a noble profession," Rory smiled. "You'll be good at it."

"Thanks," he said, blushing.

"Excuse me for a minute," she said, stepping past him to the large cooler labeled "beer". As she bent over, however, she was aware of eyes on her. As Rory stood up and turned around, a few of the men's heads snapped back to the television screen. Walker hadn't looked and clearly didn't care.

Maybe there was something, after all, to his and Whitney's relationship.

But more than that, Rory realized, was that for the first time in her life she had more male attention on her than she ever had. Was it just because Whitney had finally thrown in the towel and planned to marry, making Rory top of the food chain at the moment? Whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable. She shrugged it off and turned back to Jake.

"Sorry about that," she said, popping the top of the glass bottle off on the opener affixed to the cooler.

He shook his head. "No worries, Rory. So, how're those Yanks treating you up in Chicago?"

Rory chuckled. "Those Yanks are actually pretty awesome. Though there is a disturbing lack of Southern hospitality."

"So no good ol' Southern boys, either," he flirted.

"Nope, none of those," Rory said, patting his arm. "Y'all are a special breed."

Jake smiled just as Auburn made a touchdown, causing the people in the room to erupt in hysterics. Rory laughed, shaking her head. Some things never changed. With a sigh, she excused herself from Jake and headed back into the house and up to the front room to see what everyone else was doing.

"Oh, good!" called her mother. "Rory, I need you to run to the store and pick us up some of those little paper plates. I thought we had more, but we're all out."

Rory sighed, looking at the table her mother was currently preparing for dinner. As always, there was more food than five times as many people could ever consume, and that didn't even include the ribs she smelled cooking in the roaster and wafting up from the basement.

"Sure, Mama," she said. "Do you need anything else?"

"No," she said. "I think we have it all. Keep your cell phone with you if I think of something else."

Rory nodded and grabbed her mother's car keys from the hook in the office that was just off the kitchen. "Alright, I'm taking your car."

"Okay," she said, turning back to stirring a pot.

Rory didn't want to go, but knew she could get a few minutes of quiet time if she went. With a sigh, she put her beer down on the table and grabbed her purse, heading out of the house.

Alexander yawned as he pushed open the door of his rental car. He stepped out and stretched his legs and arms, feeling his vertebrae pop and realign. It felt good to do it after sitting in a car for two hours.

With a sigh, he glanced up at the house in front of him. It was just how he had pictured it, even though Rory had never described it to him. Sitting nestled in a sprawling lawn, surrounded by trees brilliantly colored in oranges, reds and golds, was a red brick house of moderate size but large enough for Rory's family. The house itself was well cared for and had an antebellum flavor, but there were only small nuances of the old plantation houses. All of the land surrounding it was pristine and manicured. The decorative white picket fence surrounding the front of the property was almost cliché, but it was perfect for the setting.

He pulled his sunglasses off and folded them up, dropping them in the driver's seat as he shut the door and locked it. When he hopped on the plane in Sweden, he hadn't known what he'd been thinking when he told the pilot that he wanted to go to Atlanta. What was he going to do when he arrived? Wander around aimlessly? He hadn't called her because he didn't want to wake her, and had no idea where she was. Luckily, she had sent him a text saying that she was in Columbus while he was in the air. That was a definite starting point.

When he arrived, he plugged his destination into his GPS and set out. Two hours later, he ended up in Columbus and stopped at a gas station. The first person he'd asked about General Fisher had told him the exact location of his home, which he found odd and a tad unsettling. But Alexander had to remind himself that this was a relatively small town. A military town. Everyone who was anyone knew the commander, or former commander as it was, of the army base. And they knew his family.

Just like Rory had described to him.

He followed the directions the man had given him and knew the house as soon as he turned the corner onto the street. There were cars parked in the driveway and surrounding areas. He found one open spot in the driveway and parked there.

Now all that mattered was getting up to the front door and finding Rory. It was strange, he thought, that in a time of complete upset in his life the person he gravitated toward was the reason behind the upheaval. And yet, she wasn't the real reason. The reason was his father being a curmudgeonly prick who had gotten his way for far too long. He knew that. And he also knew that holding and kissing Rory would soothe his troubled mind. She would center him again and allow him to think more clearly so as to come up with a plan of action.

Alexander walked up the front steps and knocked on the door. Very shortly after, the door opened, but no one was there. And then he glanced down. Standing there was a chubby little boy with a round face who was in serious need of a tissue.

"Hello," Alexander said.

"Hi," said the boy.

"Logan!"

The boy startled and turned around. "What Mommy?"

"How many times have I told you not to open the door to strangers?" A petite woman with ink black hair came into view and picked the toddler up. "That's no-no."

"I sorry, Mommy!" he said. "Look!"

The woman turned to him and her eyes grew wide. "Well, hello there."

Alexander chuckled. "Hi… I'm looking for Rory."

"You're looking for… Rory," she said. Her voice was a mixture of disbelief and distaste. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Rory Fisher," he said. "This is General and Mrs. Fisher's home, right?"

The woman nodded. "Uh, yeah."

"Faith, who's at the door?" came a voice with a twangy drawl that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him. Not like Rory's slow, mellifluous one.

"I don't know," Faith said.

The second woman came into view. She was about a head taller than Faith, with platinum blonde hair and without a doubt had some work done. But there was something familiar in her green eyes.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here to see Rory," he repeated.

"Who are you?" asked the blonde woman critically, even though he felt dirty as she eyed him from his feet to the top of his head.

"I'm Alexander," he said. "Her boyfriend."

"You're her boyfriend?" asked the blonde incredulously. "How the hell did she manage that?"

Alexander scoffed. Sister. It had to be her. "You must be Whitney."

Someone from inside the house shouted, "Would you stop lettin' all the heat out? We aren't made of money!"

Whitney turned to him. "Well, you better come in. Rory's not here. She went to the store."

"Oh," Alexander said.

He stepped into the front room and felt all eyes turn to him. He shifted uncomfortably, but the silence was broken up when an older woman with short silvery hair and a kind face came into the living room, drying her hands with a towel.

"What are we starin' at y'all," said the woman. She saw him then and glanced up, a look of confusion on her face. "May I help you?"

"Uh, I'm waiting for Rory," he repeated yet again.

"It's her boyfriend, Mama!" said Whitney.

The surprise was evident on her face at the pronouncement. Alexander didn't know how to take the fact that no one seemed to know that Rory was seeing anyone. Of course their relationship really had only just started, but he had hoped that she would have at least told a few people in the house about him. Or even about her new job, and then connected him from that.

"I'm Alexander Skarsgård, Mrs. Fisher," he said, offering his hand to Rory's mother.

She smiled and shook his hand. "Call me Mary Lou. Or Mama."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Rory didn't say you'd be comin'—we're all just a little, er, I guess stunned is the best word for it," she said, stepping to his side. She placed a hand on his back and applied a bit of force to get him to move out of the room and out of the firing range of the other women he had yet to be introduced to.

"It was a last minute decision," Alexander said. "She's not expecting me."

Mary Lou looked up at him and smiled. Then she turned her head and yelled. "Robert! Come here! We have a new guest!"

"Just bring 'em down here!" a man with a strong, booming voice called from somewhere else in the house.

"I'm going to apologize now for feeding you to the wolves, Alexander," she said.

Alexander chuckled. "I'm sure I can handle it." If Rory could go toe-to-toe with his father, he sure as hell could manage hers.

Mary Lou showed him down a short flight of stairs to a back entertainment room where most of the male population were intently watching a football game on the large television. But as soon as they noticed him, the energy in the room changed. Each of the men present buttoned up their actions, forming a pack of testosterone. A stranger had just entered their midst and they were uncomfortable.

Their alpha was the gray-haired man sitting in the big recliner across the room. He stood up and walked over to them, and Alexander noted that he was about as tall as him, but what he lacked in height he made up for in charisma and physique.

Mary Lou smiled. "Robert, this is Alexander Skarsgård. Alexander, this is Rory's father, Robert."

Alexander offered his hand, though he felt like he should salute the man. Rory hadn't been lying when she tried to describe her father. He was fearsome, powerful, and commanded respect. "General Fisher."

"Mr. Skarsgård," he said. There was a long moment of silence when he spoke again. "And you are…"

"Robert…" Mary Lou spoke quietly. "This is Rory's boyfriend."

Alexander heard someone in the room mutter, "Rory has a boyfriend?"

He didn't see who said it because he was holding the General's gaze as the information worked its way through his head. The change in his demeanor was almost instantaneous. His gaze grew hard. He was suddenly more defensive.

"… I swear, who is the idiot tosser who parked their stupid shiny foreign car in my spot?"

The hair on the back of Alexander's neck stood on end when he heard the voice. She was back.

"Rory," someone said as though trying to stop her minor tirade.

She continued on. "… made we walk a whole block to get back—."

Her words stopped dead and Alexander turned around. She was standing on the bottom step, and her face was impassive. Then she said, "Shit."

Without another word, she stepped down off the last step, grabbed his hand and pulled him out the back, through a sunroom and out a side door into the backyard. Rory turned around and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He couldn't tell if she was angry or just wanted an answer. "I left Sweden and told the pilot I wanted to come to Georgia."

Rory sighed. "You've gotta warn me. That could have been bad in there! A call would have been nice, too! Like returning the several texts and voice messages I left you."

"I tried," he said. "You didn't pick up at all since I landed."

"That's because I—," she stopped again. "Damn it! I turned the sound off when we were in the dress shop."

He looked at her for a long moment. "This wasn't really the reaction I was going for."

Rory sighed and stepped closer to him. "I'm sorry… I just wasn't expecting you. I didn't have time to prepare my family for your arrival. You do realize you're only the second boyfriend I've ever had, right? When I actually date someone, that's a big deal around here."

"Then why didn't you tell them about me?" he asked. "We've been together for a little over two weeks."

"I know, Alexander. We've been together for two weeks and known each other for a month," Rory said. "And most of it, we've been on different continents. Not a whole hell of a lot of time. I wasn't really planning on introducing you this early because it might jinx the whole thing."

He sighed. No amount of jinxing she did would trump the ultimatum he had received less than twenty-four hours ago from his own father. "Rory, I know it's early, but I want to be a part of your life. I want to get to know your family as well. You've met mine—I think it's only fair."

She nodded and let out a long breath. "You're right. It's just new to me, and I didn't think about it. I hope you won't hold my naiveté against me."

Alexander met her eyes and reached out, pulling her to him. The instant she wrapped her arms around him in response, he relaxed. "I won't hold it against you. I think we're both pretty inexperienced, just in different areas. We have to learn together."

"True," she said. "But I don't want to tell them you're my boss right away. If they figure it out, okay, but I don't know how they'll take to that piece of information. They're pretty traditional… and I want them to get to know you before they pass judgment on the fact that you started out my boss."

"I can agree to that," he said. "But only if you kiss me."

Rory laughed and leaned in, giving him a tentative kiss. She stepped back.

"That's not sufficient," he said, pulling her back and laying one on her. She relaxed into him and returned his kiss.

Finally, she pushed on his chest. "Alexander, stop."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because," she said and stepped to the side, wiping the corners of her mouth. "We're being watched."

Alexander frowned. "Huh?"

She nodded her head toward the house. Most everyone inside stood at the sunroom windows, having watched the spectacle. Alexander noted that Rory's father did not look pleased.

"I seem to be batting a thousand with fathers lately," he quipped.

Rory turned to him and giggled. "He's all bark and no bite. Trust me. Come on."

She grabbed his hand and twined her fingers with his, pulling him in the direction of the door they had used a moment ago. People scattered when they stepped back inside the house, except for the General and two others. One had the physique of swimmer and looked pretty young. The other looked like he lived at the gym and could snap his neck with one well-placed blow—or shoot him between the eyes, Alexander mused, as he noticed the gun on his hip.

"You met my dad, but did you meet my brothers?" she asked.

"No," he said.

Rory smiled and motioned to the swimmer first. "This is Bobby. And that's Charlie."

Charlie flexed an arm.

Alexander shook each of their hands, but they didn't say much. He felt like he was being weighed and measured by all three of them. Then her father surprised him. "You like football?"

"Eh, not particularly," he said reluctantly. He decided honesty was best with this man. "I don't really understand the rules."

Rory cringed beside him. "Oh, god."

"Well then," General Fisher said, slapping his back and placing an arm on his shoulder like he was an old friend. "Come join us and we'll teach you."

The pity in Rory's eyes was unmistakable. She motioned to an empty beer bottle, mouthing, "Do you want one?"

He nodded.

"Excuse me, Walker," she said aloud.

Alexander snapped his attention back to Rory, seeing a man of average height and perhaps above average build step out of the way. As he got a better glimpse of the man, he could see why Rory was probably attracted to him. But Alexander just didn't see anything going on behind his brown eyes. He seemed reserved, superficial and even somewhat… pained. Walker was perfect for Whitney, but not for Rory. He could tell that right away.

He was also relieved to get the sense that there was absolutely nothing between the two. Despite what Rory had told him about Walker and how he had treated her, Alexander had wondered if there was still some lingering attachment there.

"Sit." General Fisher directed him to a full couch, interrupting his thoughts. One look from the man and a boy sitting there stood up and walked away.

As Alexander prepared to take a seat, he caught Walker's eyes. He would deal with him later. With a sigh, he made himself comfortable and turned toward the television screen. After a few seconds, a hand rested on his shoulder from behind and slipped a little further down his chest.

"You did this to yourself," said Rory's voice close to his ear.

Alexander turned slightly to glance at her with a smile. She handed him a beer. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," she said and leaned forward a little bit more, kissing him. She moved back to his ear and said lowly, "This beer'll definitely help more than the coffee I'm usually getting you."

"Indeed it will," he said with a small laugh.

"Okay, I'm going to go do some damage control with the gossipers upstairs," she said, kissing the shell of his ear again and patting his chest playfully. "Have fun."

Alexander watched her retreat from the room. As he lifted the beer to his lips and took a long sip, he noticed the other people in the room trying not to watch, but unable to remain uninterested. He sighed, preparing himself for his tutoring session.

Even as he sat here, slightly uncomfortable and not entirely sure everyone in her family was particularly pleased at the way he had appeared in Georgia, he still felt a million more times welcome than he ever had with his family. It was a strange observation, but he liked it. Even if it meant that he had to prove himself to the General and his pack by watching a game he had absolutely no interest in.

Chapter 15

Rory had tried to block out the chattering from the front room as she helped her mother put together the last few dishes for dinner, but it was impossible to ignore her sister's voice as she held court. After Rory had come up from the back room and confirmed for everyone that yes, Alexander was her boyfriend, they had been sidetracked by Whitney's ploy to bring the attention back to her. So they were thrown headlong into putting together seating card holders for the reception.

Not that Rory was particularly unhappy about it. As long as Whitney sidetracked everyone, it prevented them from having the opportunity to inquire about her relationship and Alexander. Rory wasn't prepared for those questions just yet, though she knew Alexander might be fielding some downstairs. She knew that her family was just trying to feel him out, but who knew what they would slip into conversation.

Her mother placed a huge bowl of potato salad on the table and stepped back, taking stock of the feast of traditional comfort food she had prepared. "Do you think we have enough?"

"Mama," Rory said, placing her arm around her waist, "when have we never had enough?"

"When you're right, you're right," her mother laughed.

Rory smiled. "Should I go tell them dinner's ready?"

"Please," she said.

Rory nodded and stepped over toward the stairs. "Food's ready!"

Her announcement started the mass migration of people to the kitchen as they surrounded the table and began preparing their plates. Alexander came up the stairs, followed by her father, and smiled at her.

"The ribs and fried chicken are in the basement, y'all," said her mother's voice over the din in the kitchen. "We just didn't have any room up here for them."

People filled their plates with the food from the table and slowly made their way down to the basement for the main part of the meal. Most stayed down there to eat at the long banquet tables that had been set up to accommodate both eating and decoration creation later that evening.

Alexander reached out to her and pulled her with him into the line of people moving around the kitchen table. He slipped a thumb in a belt loop of her jeans so as to keep her from pushing away.

She reached over and grabbed a plate and utensils for each of them, handing him one to fill. "Here."

He took the paper plate from her hands and regarded it with interest.

"You've never eaten off a paper plate before, have you?" she asked quietly.

"No," he answered.

Rory chuckled. "Spoiled rich kid."

"You have no idea," he said and motioned to the table and a pan filled with green. "What is that?"

"Collard greens," she said. "Kinda like spinach, but not."

"What's the pink stuff in it?" he asked.

"Ham," she said. "It's stewed with it for flavor."

"Ah," he replied, moving along to other food. Rory paid attention to her own plate and followed Alexander down into the basement where the roasters and warmers had been set up with ribs and chicken.

She motioned to two seats at one of the tables. "I'm going to go get a beer. Do you want another one?"

"Sure," he said.

Rory hopped back upstairs to grab two beers and then back down, to find the previously empty table full of people—but most importantly her mother and father had chosen to sit across from him. She handed Alexander his beer and took the seat beside him.

The meal progressed peacefully, for about the first five minutes while everyone dug into the food for the first time. Then her father leisurely sat back in his seat, eyeing Alexander.

"So, Alexander, what do you do for a living?"

Rory choked on the bite of corn she had just taken.

Alexander, the consummate self assured businessman, played it off as though he were in the hot seat every day of his life. "I'm an architect."

Her father nodded his head. "Interesting. Is that how you met Aurora?"

"Sort of," Alexander replied. "I was outside in the park by her work, and I saw her from across the way. She was sitting in the sun with her eyes closed… and then this elderly man came up and started talking to her before I got up the nerve to speak to her."

Rory listened to his story, gooseflesh rising on her skin. She hadn't realized he had seen her before she had met him in the interview. But he had noticed her, particularly. It made her heart swell to know that even before all of this began, she had attracted his attention. "You were in the park that day?"

He nodded and glanced at her parents. "We actually work in the same building."

"Oh! For the same company?" her mother asked.

Rory reached under the table and pinched his side in warning, but he didn't bat an eyelash. "We do."

"Rory hasn't told us hardly anythin' about her new job," her mother said, casting her a look.

"I haven't really had the opportunity," she said. "And I told you I was a personal assistant."

"We're aware… wasting your education on doing menial tasks," her father said and looked at Alexander. "She's capable of so much and yet she settles on being someone's secretary."

Her parents had been more than a little furious with her when she told them that she was giving up the security of a well paying federal job to move to Chicago. Apparently their distaste spread to fact that they thought she was selling herself short now in her current position.

"Daddy, please," she said. "I like the job. And even if I didn't have it and worked somewhere else, I'm not moving back to Georgia."

Her father deflated at that. Silence passed between them, allowing them time to turn their full attention back to their food.

Finally, her mother spoke. "Do you know who her boss is, Alexander?"

Alexander wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I do."

"What's he like?" her mother asked. "I'm sure if we knew that she wasn't being overworked and underpaid by a decent boss, then we wouldn't be so worried about her."

Rory glanced at Alexander and noticed the small smile on his lips.

"As far as bosses go, he's a good businessman. Not one of those crooked ones you hear about all the time. He's fair and objective," Alexander said.

"And humble," Rory added. "Don't forget humble."

Alexander hid his widening grin behind his napkin.

Her father nodded his head and wiped his mouth, excusing himself and clearing his plate. Soon her mother followed him away.

She sighed. "He knows."

Alexander glanced at her. "I did my best to muddle facts."

"You couldn't have said you were something other than an architect?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not lying to that man. Not outright, at least."

"Put the fear of God into you already, has he?" she asked.

Alexander shrugged. "He was actually pretty quiet while we watched the game. Your brothers, on the other hand…"

Rory looked across the room where her brothers were sitting beside each other, talking lowly and eyeing them.

"Are they always like that?" he asked.

"What? With the predatory gleam in their eyes?"

"Yeah."

Rory laughed. "They'll warm up to you."

"Will they?" he asked.

She shrugged. "We'll see."

Alexander scoffed.

"Are you done?" she asked and he nodded.

Rory gathered their trash, taking it over to the bin and dumping it. On her way back by him, she pulled him out of his seat and up the stairs to the main level.

Alexander followed Rory into her tiny little bedroom a few hours later, wondering what she planned to do. The party was still going full steam downstairs and they had just started putting together decorations.

Actually, he was surprised that she had so boldly pulled him past her brothers and father, who were in the kitchen likely planning his murder, to come upstairs to her room. Having spent the last few hours with all of these men, he had felt confident they would try to stop her. Instead, they merely watched them escape to the quiet of the top floor of the house.

Alexander eyed the tiny bed speculatively and sat down, then laid back, letting out a long sigh of contentment. "I'm so full."

"I have no doubt with the amount of cobbler you ate," she said with a laugh, walking past him to her closet. She stepped inside and flicked the light on.

"You know, I've eaten at some of the best restaurants in the world," Alexander said, "but none of them could hold a candle to what I ate tonight."

Rory giggled.

Alexander glanced over at her as she pulled her sweater over her head. Unfortunately, she grabbed a shirt to replace it. As she walked back out, she caught his hopeful gaze and rolled her eyes.

"Not here," she said.

He chuckled and reached for her. Scooting over on the twin bed, he lay on his side and pulled her to lay flush against him.

"You know what makes it so good?" she asked.

"What?" he asked. "Butter?"

Rory shook her head. "Love."

Alexander smiled. "Maybe so."

She reached up and moved a piece of hair off of his forehead. "Did you ever have home cooked meals?"

"If you count the chef making them for me," he said.

"Oh, you poor, poor boy," she said.

Alexander sighed. "I am poor. I could have all the money in the world and it would mean nothing. I don't have what you have… a family that loves and supports each other despite everything. You are rich."

"Your family loves you and you love them all in their special way."

"Not all of them," Alexander replied, closing his eyes and relaxing to the feel of Rory's chest rising and falling against him as they lay still.

She touched his face, making him open his eyes. Her gaze was intense as she tried to understand what he was saying. He wanted to tell her everything that had happened in Sweden, but he didn't want to do it now. He didn't want that wedge driven between them. There was still a month left and he hadn't decided what he was going to do about his father's ultimatum. It would affect both of them; he would rather have a firm plan as to how he was going to proceed before she found out.

"All of them," she said. "Even your father in his own misguided way."

Alexander chuckled. "I really don't want to talk about him right now, Rory. I left Sweden early because I couldn't deal with it any longer. Until Monday morning at eight, I don't want to waste any more of my time worrying about him."

"Okay," she replied, brushing her lips across his. "I can live with that. And if you feel like you need a family, you are more than welcome to share mine. You can have them when they're driving me up a wall."

"Do you miss them?" he asked. "I mean, when you're in Chicago?"

Rory shrugged. "Of course I do. I love them, even Whitney, though it really pains me sometimes."

He sighed and closed his eyes again, letting his breathing even out and enjoying the closeness of another body. For years, he'd gone from woman to woman with no rhyme or reason. There was no emotional connection with them. He had liked it that way. But laying here with her, without the option of indulging in his more carnal needs at the moment, was a new level of connection he had never felt before with someone.

"I know you said to your father that you never planned to move back, but do you think maybe down the line you still won't want to move back?" he asked. "Maybe if you had kids and wanted them to be near their grandparents?"

She frowned. "Why do you ask? You're acting very strange."

"Am I?" he asked. "It's just something that occurred to me. My life's blood is in a big city like in Chicago or New York or even Stockholm, not in Atlanta or something."

Rory cleared her throat. "If I were in that situation, it would involve a decision arrived upon by discussion with my significant other. As of right now, no, I have no plans to move back to Georgia any time soon, with or without children. Chicago and Atlanta are separated by a two hour plane ride or a two day drive. It's not the end of the world if my children only see their grandparents a few times a year."

"What if you were on a different continent?" he asked.

"My paternal grandparents live in Texas now," she said. "I saw them once a year if I was lucky until I was in my teens, because that's when Grandpa retired from the service. Don't give me that look… at least one male in the Fisher family has served in every major American military action since the Revolutionary War. We're a military family. I think we were even fighting in England before that."

He laughed.

"Anyway... not seeing them didn't kill me," she said. "I know it's not a continent, but the same thing still applies. Besides, I want my kids to grow up in the modern world with traditional values, not in backwater Georgia. I can hop on a plane any time."

Alexander smiled. "True."

Rory sighed and scooted closer to him. He pushed one thigh between her legs and she twined her top leg around his. "Do you want kids?"

The question surprised him.

"I mean, you brought up that last question using yourself as an example," she said.

"Yes, I want children," he said. "Someday."

As Alexander looked into her eyes, he wondered if that someday wasn't closer than he thought. And for some strange reason, that knowledge didn't frighten him like it had in the past. He honestly wouldn't mind having children with this woman, being a part of this family… loving her.

How was this even possible to consider so early in a relationship marred by so much? A relationship what had barely even started? And yet, here they lay, and there was absolutely no other place in the world he would rather be but entwined on this little bed with her in his arms, talking about the future.

A future that was still up in the air at this point.

They said nothing and laid in silence for some time, until he could hear the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs outside Rory's room, followed by a knock on the door. The person did not wait for an answer and opened it.

"Go away," Rory called.

Alexander looked up at the door. It was her brother, Bobby.

"Thank god you're clothed," Bobby breathed a sigh of relief.

"What do you want?" Rory asked, lifting her head and turning to look at her brother.

"Mama said you are to come downstairs right now and help with the decorations," Bobby said. "It's your duty as maid of honor to be there for support."

Rory snorted.

"And Dad said that Alexander is more than welcome to stay the night so long as it's in Charlie's old room, alone," Bobby said. "Not in yours… together."

"I hate you," Rory replied.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger," Bobby said. "I'm going back to checking my email now."

Rory sighed. "Make sure the porn isn't too loud!"

"Will do!" Bobby called as he clambered back down the stairs. He conveniently left the door open.

"We better go down," Rory said. "They'll send a lynch mob if we don't."

Alexander laughed, scooting off the bed and standing up.

"You know, I don't think it's fair that I'm twenty-eight and they still have the no boys in the room rule," she said and shook her head. She stood up and moved to the door, leaving the room.

Alexander followed her down the stairs all the way to the basement where it looked like the Easter Bunny had thrown up all over the place. Everything was a sickening shade of hot pink or a pale, powdery pink.

"God, there's so much pink in here," Rory said aloud, taking the words out of his mind.

Whitney looked up from her work and frowned. "Look, I get that you hate the pink. When… no, if you ever get married, then you can have whatever color you want."

Rory rolled her eyes. "You're not five any more, Whit."

"I like the color," Whitney said. "Now sit down, shut up, and help us."

With a sneer at her sister, Rory slumped into a chair and began filling little pouches of Jordan almonds. Alexander sat beside her and became her helper, holding the pouches as she tied them off with pink ribbon. Soon the rhythm of the work became mechanical. It was relaxing in a new way, like running on the treadmill. He didn't have to put too much thought into it, and as he focused on the conversations around him, he didn't feel anxious or worried about anything else.

After they finished with the almonds, Whitney brought out centerpiece materials including candles and silk flowers. Rory regarded a pink silk rose with distaste as she separated the head from the stem and affixed it to the base of a glass fishbowl with hot glue.

"What was that look for?" Alexander asked.

"Silk flowers," Rory said. "Could we get more country?"

He chuckled. "They're not too bad."

Rory cast a glance at him.

"Okay, maybe they are," he said.

She nodded. After a few minutes more of silence between them, Rory turned to look at him. "Alexander, you may want to get a hotel for tonight."

"Why?" he asked.

"Just trust me," Rory said.

"That doesn't give me a reason why," he said. "I want to stay here, since your father offered. That has to be a good sign, right?"

Rory shook her head and sighed. "It is. But it can also be very, very bad."

Alexander smiled. "Don't worry about it, Rory. I have to get through this eventually. Might as well get it out of the way now."

Rory laughed. "Okay, don't say I didn't try to warn you."

"Understood," he said.

Rory's mother made her way over to them and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Alexander dear! Did you get enough to eat tonight? You were tuckin' into that cobbler quite a bit."

He smiled. "I'm great, Mary Lou."

"You sure?" she said. "There's still some left. I can go dish it up for you."

Alexander opened his mouth to refuse, but stopped himself. She seemed insistent on feeding him. "That would be great."

"Would you like ice cream with it?" she asked.

"Mama, he doesn't need ice cream," Rory said.

"Yes, he does," Mary Lou replied. She patted his shoulder and walked off toward the stairs.

Rory turned to look at him. "When you're sick later, don't come crying to me. If you let her, my mother will feed you until you explode. You have to say no."

"I can't say no," he said. "It's so good."

Rory laughed. "Alright, let it be said I also warned you about eating too much cobbler."

"I'm grateful for the warning," he said, leaning over and kissing her. "But it's just too good to pass up."

#Alexander Skarsgard #alexander skarsgard fanfiction #alexander skarsgrad fanfic #building happiness

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