#the 'you all knew' is in reference to a fic where he tries to pretend to b human

[s1llycilantro]

you guys will NOT believe who sat down and finally watched hermitcraft

[pastlivesxpastlie]

♡ Let’s Fuck Her Up ♡

There’s nothing wrong with an innocent game of truth or dare among roommates…unless they’re two guys who seem to have massive crushes on you and each other.

Vessel x IV x F!Reader

Smut, M/M/F threesome, Bi!Token, praise, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, some spanking, reader is yanked around like a fleshlight, p in v (pretend we talked about birth control prior), and they were roommates

A/N: a ✨ beloved mutual ✨ once said “hey what about a truth or dare fic” and then I was struck by lightning in Best Buy with this idea. Also I took to just naming them Ves and Ivy in this for my mental health.

You’re laying on the couch. Mindlessly scrolling. Completely zoned out from whatever Ves and Ivy are talking about. 20 minutes ago it was all “yeah let’s go out oi oi” and all that but no one had any good ideas. Well. You did! But of course, the “boys club” always overruled you. You knew there were risks involved rooming with two guy best friends—either they treated you like a helpless little girl that needed defending and items retrieved from high spots or like you were the neighborhood girl their respective parents had guilted them into inviting. Suddenly, you hear your name and a snap.

“What?! Jesus.” You say rolling your eyes as Ivy tries to get your attention.

“I asked you something…”

“She’s checked out, man,” Ves says chuckling.

“Yeah yeah, fine. I’ll ask again. Truth or dare?” Ivy asks with his elbows on his knees as he leans forward on the loveseat across from you. Ves shakes his head and stifles a laugh, whispering “you wanker” in reference to Ivy’s mischievous grin.

You snort and decide to play along just to prove how stupid of an idea this is. How old are we?

“Fine. Truth.”

Ivy taps his chin as if he doesn’t already have a question in mind. “Which of us is the best looking?”

“Me. Easy.” You say straightfaced. It’s incredibly satisfying to watch Ivy’s shit-eating grin melt into a scowl. Ves pats him on the back as if to say “there there big guy.”

“Well…ok…but…” Ivy sputters.

“You actually disagree with her, Ivy?”

“What? No, I mean, come on…apples…apples and oranges mate.”

“So why’d you ask her? That’s literally the same question you asked her.” Ves asks with an exasperated laugh, flailing his arm a bit.

You’re watching them banter and the same suspicion creeps up in the back of your mind. There’s something more there. Maybe. The way they look at each other. The little nudges. That’s not just chemistry…that’s not just…being playful.

“Boys boys boys,” you interrupt. They both look at you. “Ves…truth or dare?”

The taller man blushes a little. Maybe he didn’t actually want to play this game and thought Ivy was being a prick. Maybe he just couldn’t believe you were playing along. He shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. “Dare.”

You catch Ivy’s eye and realize you’re both chuckling at Ves’s willingness to take on a dare. A tiny moment. Another one of those times where you think, “is this something?”

“Alright…I dare you toooooo…hmm…read us your most recent sexts.” You laugh but the boys don’t. You expected Ves’s reaction—rolling his eyes and rubbing his temples—but you didn’t expect Ivy’s blush. Or him fidgeting a little. “Uhm…”

Ves shrugs. “I don’t sext.”

“Oh. Well…”

He snorts. “I’m fucking with you.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket as Ivy watches him with great interest. What is this? There has to be something going on. He unlocks his phone and scrolls a bit. “Ok…it says…” he scrolls some

more, “it says ‘you should have your lips around me instead.” And with that he locks the phone and puts it back in his pocket. He looks over at Ivy as if he’s sizing him up. You feel like you shouldn’t be here.

“Truth or Dare, Ive?”

Ivy rolls his eyes as if the game he decided they should play is the stupidest thing ever. “Truth, I guess.”

Ves responds immediately. “Tell her what you said about the last guy she brought over.”

Oop. Ivy’s eyebrows furrow, and you feel your stomach drop a bit. The last guy you had over was pretty sweet but didn’t seem quick to move forward. You still talk to him and go out sometime.

Ivy pinches the bridge of his nose and answers. He knows he needs to be a good sport for his own game.

“I said he was a loser.”

“And?”

Ivy groans. “And a simp.”

“What’s wrong with being a simp?” You ask with play seriousness.

“You need someone who doesn’t have to be pathetic to get your attention. Not some lost idiot.”

You laugh with a scoff. “Takes one to know one?”

Ivy throws a small pillow in your general direction and you toss it back when it falls near you. He dodges it and grabs the pillow Ves had been holding. He’s ready to start a pillow fight as you shriek and giggle as he comes toward you when Ves says “alright alright, Ivy it’s your turn.” Ivy lands a soft thump of the pillow against your side before sitting by Ves again.

“Fine. Sour puss. Alright princess, truth or dare?”

Your cheeks are still warm from the silliness and adrenaline. You gather your nerves and…

“Dare.”

Ivy nods and thinks for a second before looking back at Ves. Some unspoken boy conversation going on between them.

“Let us guess what color panties you have on. If neither of us can, you get bragging rights. If one of us guesses correctly…you have to prove it.”

Both men are looking at you like your word is law. They’re hanging on the edge on your every word. Waiting. Like good boys. Wait no stop that. You sigh and stand up, doing a little twirl. “Alright, do your worst.”

“Black” they both blurt out, straightfaced.

Fuck. You shouldn’t be surprised but here you are scoffing and rolling your eyes. You loop your thumbs under your shorts and pull them down enough to let them see your black boyshorts. “Congrats on guessing one of the most common underwear colors. Alright. Ivy. Truth or dare?”

“But it’s my turn!” Ves interjects.

“Dare.” Ivy snaps back calmly. The tension is building.

“Give Ves a little kiss.”

There’s a lengthy, heavy pause. Ivy huffs out a little laugh. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ivy and Ves lean towards each other and you feel a pulse deep deep inside you. Ves crooks his finger under Ivy’s chin as their lips meet. Seconds feel like an eternity. Ivy cups Ves’s face and gently caresses the taller man’s cheekbone with his thump. Your breath catches in uncomfortable shock but your synapses are firing like crazy. They’ve done this before. And it’s so hot. It is so clear just how into each other they are as one kiss ends and Ivy immediately initiates another. At one point Ves gently bites Ivy’s bottom lip, and Ivy chuckles as he pushes Ves back a little. Not out of disgust…but more like “not here, not now at least”

Ivy looks at you as he runs his fingers through his blonde hair and licks his lips. You barely register that you’ve actually slipped off your shorts while watching your roommates make out. “You cool doing a dare,” he asks, nodding up at you.

You nod wordlessly. Your breath is coming heavier.

“Good girl. I dare you…”

He looks at Ves but his eyes are taking in every single inch of your body. Ivy lets out a dry chuckle and looks back to saying, “I dare you to sit in Ves’s lap.”

You look at Ves for some kind of reassurance or “gotcha” reaction, but instead he beckons you forward and pats his lap. As if in a trance you walk towards him and shyly straddle his lap. His hands gently tug you by the hips.

“There she is…” Ves whispers as he looks up at you and moves your hair off your shoulders. Ivy scoots closer and puts his arm around Ves.

“Look at her on your thighs…” Ivy says without breaking his gaze from your body.

“I know. Like an angel.”

“Mm like a queen.”

“Ah…yeah…a queen. On her throne. Aren’t you?”

You know you look dumb right now because you feel dumb. “Wha-…”

They both giggle at your adorable confusion. Ivy starts toying with the strap of your tank top as Ves kneads your hips and love handles. Ves lets his head rest back on the couch as his hands go under your shirt.

“Is it ok if he does that, babes” Ivy asks softly as he brushes your hair behind your ears before pulling down your tank strap.

You nod, “…yeah. I…I like it.”

“Good. I do, too” Ves says as he lifts your shirt a little. You instinctively suck in your stomach but both guys protest. Ivy caresses your tummy with his fingertips and hums happily. “She’s too cute,” Ves says as he lets one of his hands drift up to cup your face. His thumb rubs over your lips, and your tongue pokes out to touch it. You taste his skin as his long thumb presses past your lips. You let out a small moan which elicits reverent coos and sighs from the guys.

“You like how he tastes, princess?” Ivy asks as his hands smooth over your back and ass. He leans close to your ear… “you should really try his cock. If you like his thumb that much…” he plants tiny kisses on your neck… “then imagine how wet you’ll get when you’re deep throating him.”

You moan and move your head to kiss Ivy. His plump lips press against you in the most delicious yet agonizingly tender way. Ves moans as he watches and circles your nipple under your tank with his thumb…still wet from playing with your tongue. Ivy palms your other breast through your tank top as you grasp at his thick, delicious body. He moans gently and relishes in finally…finally kissing you. You’ve always thought he was sweet and gentle. Listening to you vent, ruffling your hair when you’re being silly or even when he’s proud. So kissing him was like coming home. A hug.

Ves’s free hand trails up Ivy’s chest and rests at his neck. You pull away reluctantly from your friend’s lips…only to lean down and kiss your other friend.

If kissing Ivy was tender and soft, kissing Ves was frantic and needy. Between the two of them, you’ve felt the most sexual tension with Ves. You often end up spending a lot of alone time together. Just scrolling or watching something mindless. It’s not that you don’t talk…it’s comfortable silence. And glances. So many stolen glances. But now he’s holding your hips tight and pressing you against his toned body like you might disappear. Ivy groans softly as he watches you two, his lovers.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she, babe?” Ivy whispers to Ves as you feel your shirt being going over your head.

Ves pulls back from the kiss to get your shirt off and bites his lip as he ogles your chest. “Like fucking sugar,” he says breathlessly. He pulls you close and licks a long line up up your chest, making you moan with your head back. Ivy turns your face to him and nuzzles your nose with his as Ves starts kissing and sucking at your tits.

“Ivy…mm..please…” you whimper…willing him to touch you.

“Use your words, sugar,” Ves growls, “tell Ivy what you want. You’ll love it…he’ll make you feel so good.”

Ivy chuckles as you tug at his hand. “Touch me…please…I need you…” you groan… “take care of me.”

Both Ves and Ivy make cute satisfied little sounds as Ivy’s thick fingers slide under your boyshorts. You gasp as he finds your clit and blush with embarrassment at just how good it feels to have him touch you as Ves sucks your nipples. Your fingers tangle in Ves’s hair and your teeth clench as Ivy moves to trace your slit. You sit up a little to give him more room but the angle is weird…and you’ve never had two men pawing at you before. You’ve never been shared. The pad of Ivy’s middle finger playfully taps at your entrance. This whole time he’s been kissing and nipping at your neck but now he moves his lips to your ear.

“You’re a needy girl, aren’t you? You like doing this, hm? Being in the center of attention?” He whispers as he ghosts over your clit again. You whimper as he pulls his coated fingers from your folds. “Fuck she’s hot. Ves…”

Ves briefly looks up and quickly pulls away from your breast when Ivy offers him his finger. You watch as Ivy traces his finger around Ves’s lips before Ves takes the finger into his mouth. He takes a sharp breath and moans as he holds Ivy’s hand steady as your essence off him. God you want to just stare. Seeing the way Ves looks up with eager eyes and the way Ivy just lets him clean his fingers breaks your brain. You feel like a chained up bitch in heat. You want to play. You want to be your normal, slutty enthusiastic self…to show them what you can do…how you can make them feel. But you feel intimidated. Sensing your discomfort, Ves pulls you close. When he disengages from Ivy’s hand, he buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent and biting you gently.

“It’s a bit much, yeah? A lot to take in,” Ves says softly as he trails kisses on your collarbone. “Do you want to keep going?”

You can barely think. On one hand you have no idea what this means for the dynamic afterwards, on the other…if you don’t cum tonight you might actually combust. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

You feel Ivy pulling you off Ves’s lap and against his nude torso. You were so wrapped up in Ves marking you that you didn’t hear Ivy get undressed. He pulls you down to the floor and lays you down. You look up and see Ves slipping off his tshirt before laying beside you.

“He’s going to take such good care of you, sugar,” Ves says almost teasingly as he kisses your temple. “You’re gonna cum all over Ivy’s fingers and pretty face.”

Ves’s hand slides down to your now bare pussy and gently circles your clit before carefully spreading your lips to give Ivy better access.

“Fuck…Ves…”

“Ah Ves you should see how her pussy clenches when you touch her. Fuck you’re getting her ready for me” Ivy says right against your clit. He flicks his tongue sharply against it, making you jolt. Ves responds by kissing your cheeks and cooing words of praise.

“Yeah he’s good with his tongue, huh, babygirl? Do you like what he’s doing?”

You feel your pussy quiver against Ivy’s face as he alternates between licking and sucking your clit. Ivy reaches up to play with your tits. Ves caresses Ivy’s arm as your nipple is lightly pinched. You moan and try to lift your head to kiss Ves…or get his attention at least. His eyes are glued to your slick cunt and the gorgeous man eating it out. Ivy must be looking back because you see Ves blow a little kiss before he turns his attention to you. You reach up to him and finally get to m pull him in for a sweet kiss. Ivy moans into your pussy and adds two fingers. As he rubs your sensitive bundle from the inside you break the kiss and moan against Ves’s lips.

“Ves…Ivy…I…I…don’t—“

Ivy stops when he hears this. Both men are concerned about you when you whimper like that. Ivy lays atop you, his still clothed bulge pressing against your hot cunt.

“I don’t…know how to cum unless I do it myself.” You say blushing profusely. “It’s not that easy for me to just…let go.”

Ves pets your hair as Ivy softly kisses your collarbone. “Then you call the shots, love. What do you need? What would you like?” Ivy asks softly before he gently teeths your ear lobe.

“I need to get fucked.”

Ivy and Ves share a pleasantly surprised look. They thought for sure you’d say you needed a breather but here you were asking to be dicked down by your two closest guy friends. Ves leans in to kiss Ivy before whispering “you’re already on top of her…you go first, handsome.”

Your pussy throbs watching them kiss right in front of you. Ivy cradles Ves’s face so tenderly you feel like you’re intruding, but you quickly feel apart of the moment when Ivy begins tracing lazy circles on your tummy. Ves’s kisses trail down Ivy’s cheek to his neck, and you take the opportunity to sit up. Shyly, you reach out and touch Ivy’s bulge through his shorts. He lets out a sharp moan as you stroke the length. It’s thick, and you can already imagine the stretch that would come from taking it completely. Ivy gently pushes your hand away.

“You’re too good at that, babe. Mm slow down.”

You chuckle softly and start kissing the other side of Ivy’s neck. He groans whinly. “Oh fuck you both…mm…‘snot fair.” Ves chuckles and moves his kisses to your cheeks. “Yeah there we go. Let’s pick on our girl” Ivy says as he dive bombs the other side of your neck. You squirm and moan as they both kiss, suck, and bite at your neck. Ves moves to you close to him as he lays back on the floor. You’re positioned like you’re going to ride him but you hear Ivy taking his shorts off behind you.

“Ivy’s going to fuck you now…yeah? Can you handle that for us, baby?”

You swallow hard and whimper as your feel the head of Ivy’s cock tease your entrance.

“She wants it, Ves. You should feel it.”

“Oh yeah,” Ves asks with a bemused expression as his unceremoniously reaches down and fingers you.” Mmm. Yeah…you are awfully wet…and you’re practically trying to suck my fingers in.”

Ves removes his fingers but you don’t feel empty for long. Ivy presses against your pussy and presses in with delicious restraint. He’s big and you’re tight. It’s been a little since you’ve been fucked from behind so it takes a second for you to regain some brain power after Ivy’s cock finally caresses your gspot. You feel yourself clench on him and a gentle spank.

“She’s gonna make me lose it, Ves. She’s so tight.”

“Mm yeah? She gonna milk you dry?”

You moan and try to relax but it’s hard when they talk about you like you’re not here. How they praise you and flirt with each other.

“If I’m not careful, yeah…she just might.” Ivy spanks you again. “You’re gonna love her Ves…well…love her more.”

Your brain feels fuzzy as you look down at Ves as holds your hips still for Ivy. Ivy starts rolling his hips into you…the stretch and friction is incredible. You feel like you’re on fire and itching an in impossible scratch.

“Mm. Such a good girl. We just love you…don’t we Ive?” Ves asks as he stares up at you. Ivy can’t answer the question directly.

“God…fuck…finally…finally…such a good girl…fucking love you, babygirl.”

You cry out as you press against Ivy for a deeper fuck. “I…love you…Ivy…fuck…aaahh GOD baby.” Your climax ripples through you as he keeps you in place for his boyfriend. “Fuck. FUCK. I love you both.”

Ivy’s breath hitches and he grabs for Ves’s hand. Ves looks up at you sweetly and says, “Ivy’s gonna cum inside you. Ok? Such a good girl to take his cum. And then…I’m going to fuck his cum and my cum so deep in you that you won’t sit right tomorrow. And we’ll have to take care of you…sweet princess. Someone will have to kiss that pretty pussy better when we’re done. Would you like that? For your boys to take care of you and pamper you all day? All the fingers and cocks and…”

“Shut up Ves…I’m not gonna last long if you don’t…fuck…hnng.” Ivy desperately fucks into you. He’s holding back, you can tell. The pace is measured and careful…and so fucking hot. Ves winks and flashes a wicked grin.

“I’m just having a conversation with our girl. That’s all…” Ves starts moves hands to your breasts and presses hot, wet kisses on each one. You feel another orgasm clench Ivy’s cock.

“Ivy! You’re so….fucking big….” You cry out as you become overstimulated.

“Nah baby…fuck…fuck…you’re fucking right…god Ves, she’s so tight. You’re gonna love it….”

“Ivy cum for me…please,” you beg. Your confidence is growing, and since Ves isn’t holding your hips anymore, you fuck Ivy right back. You feel his wide hand press into the middle of your back, making you fall against Ves. Ivy cries out your name and moans out in whines as he coats your womb with his cum. Your pussy clenches hard like it’s desperate for more.

Ves breathes heavily after holding you as Ivy fucked you and made you his for the moment. “I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he says pathetically. “You two are so hot together.”

Ivy pulls out of you and comes to your side. You two share a deep kiss and stare into each others eyes for a bit.

“You’re so good,” you whisper to him.

“That’s you, girl.” He gives him a quick kiss. “Now let’s play with Ves.” Ivy pats you to get off Ves and he tells Ves to sit on the couch. Ves obeys and takes off his sweats. His cock is hard and twitching for both of you. He sits on the couch, and you straddle him once again. Ivy guides your hips and sets you down on Ves’s cock…slowly…slowly…slowly…

You moan and whimper as you’re stretched once again. Ivy was definitely thicker, but Ves had length and a slight bend that felt so yummy inside you.

“Fffuuuuccckk…Ves…baby…” your voice is barely coming out.

“Move her,” Ves whispers to Ivy as he plays with your nipples.

“Alright…work with me, babygirl, yeah? You want him to bust for your pussy?” Ivy whispers huskily from behind you as he starts to move your hips up and down. He has you bouncing on Ves’s cock…he’s in control. Ves’s fingers press roughly into your plush hips so hard you can feel the bruises blossoming.

“God you’re so perfect…such a fucking queen…” Ves whispers as he pulls you close for warm, desperate kisses. “Ivy…Ivy…I need to fuck her.”

Ivy lets go of your hips, and Ves immediately repositions so he can fuck up into you. Ivy has to cover your mouth as the most obscene moans and whimpers leave your pretty lips.

“You’re gonna be mine, too, baby. You’re gonna be so full from me and Ivy. So much love in your pussy…such a good…fucking…fuck….FUCK.” Ves cums inside you and keeps fucking through his climax. You both and breathing heavily…like you might hyperventilate. Ivy helps you off Ves’s lap and sits you on the couch between them. Ivy clings to your back as Ves moves to hug you. You turn your head as the two men press needy kisses on you, letting it become a slow, sensual kiss between the three of you.

[revelboo]

The title for TFP Starscream's fic made me laugh.

I love how he thinks having a human with him is a status thing, instead of an eventually exploitable weakness. Poor guy. He doesn't know what's coming for him.

Humans are the equivalent of a little purse dog as far as he’s concerned at this point- an accessory and everyone seems to have one

Bottom Feeder Pt 2

TFP Starscream x Reader

• Growling as you dart to the far corner of his berth, his optics narrow. As soon as he’d turned you loose, still shuddering at the strange feel of you moving around inside his canopy, you’d run to the end of the berth. Knowing you’re a little organic savage, but also that you can understand him when he points imperiously just makes him more frustrated. “Come here.” Because what’s the point of a pet that refuses to listen? Maybe he grabbed a defective one.

• If you jump what are the odds of breaking a leg and just immediately getting caught again? It’s the sort of math your impulsive self has never excelled at. Never doing the smart thing in favor of acting before you think it through. As the big, pointy monster puts a knee on the berth and reaches for you, there’s no real thought beyond not getting grabbed. Running and ducking under his big hand as he swipes at you, hip banging against the metal as you go down and slide. Heart in your throat when you go right over the edge, stomach dropping when you fall. Your startled scream cutting off as he lunges onto the berth stretched out and catches you in too tight a grip. And you’re upside down staring at the floor. Realizing, yeah, you’d definitely have broken your neck in the fall.

• “Are you insane?” Wings flaring, he adjusts his grip on you in case you try to wiggle free. Of all the stupid things he’d expected from you, trying to leap to your death wasn’t one of them. Dropping you on the berth, you stagger and fall even though it hadn’t been nearly as high a drop as you’d tried to jump from. Big eyes stare up at him as he smacks his palm against the berth. “If you try that again-” Threat petering out when you cringe with your arms over your head. And that fear echoes unpleasantly through him, because how many times has he done that? Braced for pain that he knew was coming. It snags at him, freezing him as his wings faintly tremble.

• Flinching when a servo touches the top of your head, patting hard enough to make you try to duck away, you look up at your captor. Who doesn’t look nearly as angry anymore, instead almost guilty. Wings fidgeting as he stares at you. Seeming to shake himself, before his wings lift and he vents to ruffle your hair. “You shall refer to me as Lord Starscream. And you will listen when I tell you something, pet,” he says. Wait. What? Pet? Does this scary monster, Starscream, seriously think you’re a pet? Or that you’re ever calling him that?

• “I’m not a pet.” Casting his optics skyward, he catches the back of your covering and drags you closer to where he’s sitting, ignoring your startled sound. When you try to roll to your feet to escape, he casually cages you under his servos, wings flicking. Because being in complete control? It’s a wholly new and unexpected high. You’re his and he can do whatever he wants, make you obey if he chooses to, though his processor balks at that thought. As lovely as it is to imagine being ruthless, forcing obedience, it’s what Megatron does to him and it makes him feel almost ill.

• “You’re my pet,” he says, keeping you pinned flat under his servos. Not hurting you, but not letting you get away, either. And as much as you want to immediately snap back with smart comment, it occurs to you that he can just find another pet if you get on his nerves. Discard you in favor of someone more terrified and less mouthy and since you know about him, you’re not just walking away alive most likely. Eyes narrowing, you accept that until you can figure out how to escape, you need to at least pretend to be an adorable little kitten for the big, pointy alien. You can absolutely not be a smartass for a little bit if your life depends on it. Right? “I think I’ll call you Fluffy,” he adds, roughly petting your hair. And survival be damned, you immediately flip him off.

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[aurianavaloria]

KoH - What Good May Come (Baldwin IV x Reader)

Fandom: Kingdom of Heaven

Pairing: Baldwin IV x Fem!Reader

PoV: Mixed/Split (Tiberias - Fem!Reader - Baldwin)

Length: Long (8k+ words! 😬)

TW: Vague mentions of disfigurement/leprosy

A/N: FINALLY, I've finished the Y/N fic that was voted on so long ago in this poll. Since the results were fairly close, I simply eliminated the least-voted option and went with a combination of the rest. 😁I've tried my best to keep Y/N truly generic, although she is female; in all other ways, though, it was my hope to make her vague enough that readers could envision whomever they liked in whatever universe/version of the story they wished. Backstory and circumstances are also left as vague as possible. As far as personality, I tried to go with what seemed most popular in general, again in an attempt to appeal to the widest audience. I sincerely hope you enjoy, and thank you all for being awesome! 🤗

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“She adores you, you know.”

It was these words from Tiberias that broke the silence between king and vassal – a companionable one… one born from years of acquaintanceship that had seen both parties through their fair share of strife and misunderstandings. A type of camaraderie perhaps only two leaders in their position could comprehend and be satisfied with.

The Count of Tripoli watched as his liege-lord’s attention was drawn from the bright Jerusalem outdoors into which he was all but forbidden to emerge. Watched as eyes as blue as the sky Tiberias knew was above drifted to his own. One was clouded, now – a sign of impending blindness. But Tiberias remembered well when both possessed such a clear and sharp forget-me-not stare, bidding all who beheld their gaze to indeed forget them not…

“I beg your pardon, Raymond,” the king replied, the silver mask he wore slightly muffling carefully-chosen words, smooth as the waters of the Jordan. “My thoughts have wandered, as they often do these days, and I am uncertain as to whom you refer.”

The smallest of laughs escaped Tiberias’s lips as they briefly twisted into a half-smile – a response to His Majesty that perhaps only he could get away with. He swirled what remained of the deep claret wine in his goblet, leveling his gaze at the king over the rim; the Count had known his lord since before he had come of age, and no amount of masks could cover the fact that Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was always aware of more than he pretended.

“Forgive me for my lack of clarity, my lord,” Raymond answered wryly. “I speak of Lady Y/N.”

“Ah, yes.”

Baldwin’s response was accompanied by the slightest nod, silver shimmering with the movement as it caught a sunray. His eyes fell to the chess pieces that functioned not as part of an actual match between them, but merely an occupation for restless hands. Particularly the king’s. Gloved in white, one of those half-numb hands still somehow moved with grace, a slender finger perched atop the head of a knight, resting upon the carved arch of the stallion’s mane.

Tiberias noted the short answer, half-sighed. No doubt His Majesty’s thoughts continued where his lips dared not to go, if the Count knew him as well as he thought he did…

“She speaks of you fondly and often,” Raymond added, sipping of the wine. “I believe she is single-handedly determined to bring your presence back into court by mention of your name and titles alone.”

White fingers released the knight. “The court is far too vicious a place for as good a soul as hers,” Baldwin said at length, sitting back in his chair, another sigh escaping him like the hiss of steam behind his mask as he glanced away. “Lately, I have been thinking of what to do with her. It is increasingly obvious there is no place for her here. Not amongst these vultures.”

“Oh?” Tiberias’s brows arched high. “Isn’t there?”

“No. There is not.”

At that, the Count’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward, setting his goblet on the chess table and folding his hands in his lap. “My lord, surely you aren’t thinking of sending her away. Not from here, where she has found joy despite everything.” He caught his liege’s gaze as it returned to him, adding pointedly, “Where you have found it.”

“My joy is irrelevant,” Baldwin replied flatly. “And as for hers...” he paused, and Raymond could see the king’s throat bob past his bandages. “It will not persist. It is best she seek it elsewhere, before that which she has found here meets its inevitable end.”

The corner of the Count’s mouth twitched. “You, or Jerusalem?”

“I am Jerusalem,” the king answered simply.

Tiberias glanced away, closing his eyes for a moment as silence stretched between them. The Count in him knew that Baldwin was, in a way, correct. Disaster loomed on the horizon – a kind of calamity from which they might not return, and it would most assuredly begin with His Majesty’s death. If the physicians were right and not being overly generous in their assessment, then the king had less than a decade left in his short life. And imbeciles like Guy de Lusignan seemed determined to shorten it further. Yes, she would be safer – and perhaps happier in the long term – elsewhere…

Yet there was something so terribly tragic about it all that Tiberias couldn’t help but feel sympathy grow in his heart for the boy. Yes boy. He hadn’t even had the chance to grow a man’s whiskers on his cheeks before that damned disease had twisted his face almost beyond recognition. And Tiberias had seen it all. Even through the at-times frustrating trials of Baldwin’s kingship, the Count of Tripoli had watched as the golden-haired warrior of sixteen years had wasted away into this silver-faced specter that had become far too wise, far too young…

…but he had also watched those specter’s eyes glow with a long-absent light the moment Y/N had stood before him. For a fleeting instant, he had once again seen the eyes of a younger king, reminiscent of past joys and glorious victories.

Baldwin would extinguish that light in an instant for her sake, romantic fool that he was. Or perhaps it was Raymond himself who was the fool, as he thought of Y/N and how she, too, had been drawn to the king the moment they’d met. How such a precious creature, so rare upon this Earth, had fallen into such a deadly trap… and now it seemed, like a snared rabbit, her only option was to chew off her own limb before the hunter found her.

How to rescue them both from such a fate?

“The girl is in love with you, my lord,” he began after a moment, his voice a growling murmur. “To send her away would break her heart. It would destroy her.” He shook his head, meeting the king’s stare with his own. “As it would you, and you know it.”

“What would you have me do, Tiberias?” Baldwin asked, Raymond’s more familiar moniker finally coming out now that the Count’s words had pierced past the royal façade. “To let her stay will cause her only despair, and that will destroy the both of us as well. And I cannot be that selfish to such a benevolent soul.” Tiberias heard a long exhale behind the mask as the king cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if searching for answers amongst the lofty vaults. “Were it not for this disease I would ask her father for her hand and devote my life to her as her husband before the altar of God. But I am a leper, and I am forbidden that.” The pale gaze that returned to the Count’s was a haunting one now, as if all the ghosts of Purgatory screamed through it for salvation. A mirthless laugh followed, a dark sound born of darker thoughts. “It seems I can do nothing else but waste away before her very eyes. So tell me, my wise vassal – if I cannot protect her from what is to come, what is it that I can do?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Tiberias’s lips. “Love her, my lord. As I know you already do.” He paused, propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his sword-calloused hands together as he thought.

“It’s the whole reason for your self-flagellation, is it not?” he continued after a moment. “This talk of sending Y/N out of Jerusalem – your crown tells you one thing, but your heart tells you another, and for the first time you want to toss the crown by the wayside, and that makes you fear you are an incompetent king. So you pick up the crown again in hopes it will crush the heart, and perhaps the love along with it.”

Another sigh, the lids of the king’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I only wish to do what is right, Tiberias. It is what I have striven for my entire life, and I will not abandon such principles now. If it means my own suffering, so be it. And as for her,” his eyes opened once more, latching to Raymond’s, “tell me what good may come from the love of a leper.”

This time, it was the Count who sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Peace. Mercy. Comfort. Everything you have brought to this kingdom.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, peaking his fingers. “You cannot know that a little cruelty now will not hurt her any less than what will come later. But you do know that loving her can only bring happiness to you both in the present moment – and that is what she lives for. Not the future.” He cocked his head at the king. “There is nothing wicked in what she desires. Nor in what you wish for her. The both of you want nothing more than the other’s well-being. How can that be anything but right?”

Raymond saw Baldwin’s throat bob again, the mask shimmering in the sunlight as he shifted in his seat, first looking down towards the floor, then back to the illuminated arcade.

“How shall I court her, then?” he inquired at length, his voice softer, cynicism at last yielding to tender warmth. “How to show her this affection of mine without forever staining her honor?”

Tiberias’s jaw worked as he thought for a few moments in silence. “If you wish to be discreet, my lord, I believe I may assist in this matter.”

It was then, as Baldwin returned his attention to the Count, that the latter saw a glimpse of boyish mischief sparkling in his liege’s eye. “I would trust no other to the task.”

================

“My lady, a courier flagged me down today and told me to give you this.”

Your lady-in-waiting approached, holding out a small wrapped parcel.

“What is it?” you asked, interest piqued.

The handmaid shook her head. “I have no idea, my lady. The courier didn’t say.”

You felt your brow furrow as you took the parcel in hand. The fabric was fine, but not terribly so – a soft cream color, tied with a simple yellow ribbon.

“Hmm. I wonder who it is from.”

“He didn’t say that, either,” your companion commented.

Curiosity mounting by the second, you decided to succumb to the impulse to open the parcel, tugging at the ribbon. Casting it aside, you pulled back the corners of the fabric to reveal a folded piece of parchment, within which had been tucked something slightly weighty…

Merely tilting the parchment to the side let the object slide free into your waiting palm, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped you. There, in your hand, lay a lovely brooch, sparkling in the sunlight that streamed in from your window. A small disk of gold, swirling floral patterns weaved across its surface and wound about its edge like vines of roses. At its center was set a sapphire cabochon, polished and glimmering, and from its bottom edge hung a single creamy white pearl, like a teardrop in shape.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!”

The words came from your lady-in-waiting; you were too busy still holding your breath as you took in the details of this exquisite piece. You ran a finger over the filigree and atop the smooth stone in wonder. Who could have possibly gifted you something so beautiful and why?

As if reading your mind, your fellow courtier prompted, “Maybe the parchment says who it’s from.”

Finally remembering to breathe, you nodded, carefully unfolding the small piece of vellum to see a tight, neat script, punctuated with neither signature nor seal:

You will never know how much light you bring into the lives of others. It is my only hope that this small token of my regard brings a measure of light into yours.

This time, it was both you and your handmaiden who gasped in unison, barely stifling squeaks of girlish delight as you exchanged looks with one another.

“You, my lady, have an admirer!”

In awe, you stared at the parchment, reading the words over and over again. But who could have possibly written them?

“So it seems,” you replied at length, running a thumb across the surface of the brooch.

“Well,” your comrade continued, straightening and putting her hands on her hips, “that will give you plenty to talk about at the feast tonight.”

Your brow furrowed. “Feast?”

She nodded with a grin. “Yes, feast! Princess Sibylla arranged it. Perhaps you’ll find your mysterious admirer amongst the guests there, hmm?”

At that, you could only blink for a moment, your thoughts a whirlwind in your mind. Of all the things to find in Jerusalem, you hadn’t quite expected an admirer to be one of them…

“I’m not sure whether to be frightened or excited by the prospects,” you finally replied honestly, a nervous chuckle following your words.

“Oh, lady,” your handmaid admonished, swatting a hand playfully at your shoulder. “It will be quite fun, I’m sure. The princess’s functions are always lighthearted affairs, or so I hear. I imagine there will be dancing and merry music aplenty. Just plan to enjoy yourself, and if something – or someone – intriguing comes along…” she trailed and winked.

You tried to fight the blush that sprang to your cheeks, but to no avail, leading your handmaid to laugh heartily. “Ah, my lady. By your leave, I must see to a few things before evening falls, but I will return to help you get ready.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, giving a nod of assent. “Of course.”

With that, the lady-in-waiting dipped into a polite curtsey and left, closing your chamber door gently behind her and leaving you to your increasingly-anxious thoughts. Your attention returned to the parchment and brooch – both were fine indeed, indicating that, whoever your admirer was, they were certainly someone of status. Yet there was a certain practicality to both; the author’s penmanship was practiced and elegant, but not overstated, and the brooch itself was obviously expensive, but neither was it overly extravagant.

It was also a rather fitting gift, considering you had only just lost your old one on the way to Jerusalem…

And then it hit you.

It can’t be…

Your heart began to beat harder in your chest as it all came to you in a rush. Yes, you’d lost your beloved brooch on the long journey to Jerusalem – one of your last remaining ties to your homeland. A silly thing to get upset about, you told yourself later on, and yet the loss of it affected you even after your arrival at court. Nevertheless, no one up until that point knew besides your lady-in-waiting. And there was only one Jerusalemite native to whom you had confided that little detail.

The king.

Your mouth ran dry as you remembered the instance as clearly as if it had been yesterday. It was only your third day at the palace, and you’d yet to become accustomed to its maze-like halls. Couple that with your fascination with the local architecture, and that led you to places, in hindsight, you probably ought not have tread. Yet no one stopped you, even as the number of palace guests thinned and you emerged upon a quiet, sunlit terrace…

…only to run right into a tall man in white.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that you’d plowed headlong into the king himself – quite embarrassing that. In fact, you were so mortified that you were sure you would die of it on the spot, even as you apologized profusely with the deepest curtsey you could manage on weak legs.

To your surprise, however, not even the slightest admonishment came from him. Instead, he chuckled, the sound muffled by the mask he wore. That caused you to look up, still frozen in your curtsey, and that was when you saw the bluest eyes you’d ever seen in your life looking back at you, their squinted corners evidence of a smile behind the almost-angelic visage of silver.

You smiled back nervously, at which point he bid you to rise, assuring you that you had done nothing wrong. An awkward introduction followed, during which you admitted that curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you praised the well-kept grounds and the lovely accommodations you’d been given…

As it so happened, however, he already knew precisely who you were from your name alone – where you were from and why you’d come to Jerusalem. Whether he had gleaned this information from spies or the rumor mill of the court, you weren’t certain, but the more he spoke, the more difficult it became to keep the flabbergasted look off your face. And along with that astonishment came the slightest bit of fear – if he knew this much about you, how much did everyone else know?

Despite your best efforts, though, you must have been unable to keep your face expressionless, as that was when he had invited you to his chambers to speak further in private.

To say you were surprised by such an offer was something of an understatement; it was the last thing you expected to hear after what had just transpired between you, especially from a king to a freshly-acquainted subject. And yet you found yourself quite unable to decline even out of modesty. For one thing, declining the offer of a king seemed most imprudent, and for another…

…well, you were actually rather curious about His Majesty, unwilling to end the encounter just yet.

So you followed him, marveling at him all the while. You knew he was a leper – that was something you’d been informed of before you’d departed for the Holy City – but that didn’t frighten you. You had seen lepers where you were from, and they hadn’t frightened you, either. You also knew the mask was meant to hide the deformities beneath. In fact, it was the presence of that mask that had led you to guess the identity of its owner before it was ever confirmed by his lips – it was a symbol as powerful as a crown. None of that was what had drawn your curiosity; you were motivated neither by morbid fascination nor a sense of pity.

No, it was his astonishingly-welcoming demeanor that had you almost spellbound. The easy willingness to listen and to forgive. The quiet, yet poised decorum. You’d known men and women alike with rank much lesser than his who possessed a cold and domineering manner that was immediately off-putting to almost everyone around them. Yet here was the king of this realm, conversing politely with a lady who had merely lost her way.

Already you had learned volumes about his character, and he’d barely spoken at all.

He had posted guards, you noted, but they kept their eyes straight ahead as you passed them, following King Baldwin into his private quarters. It was a mighty struggle, but you managed to resist the urge to succumb to the eye-wandering that had gotten you into this situation to begin with. Instead, with the same discipline of his guardsmen, you glued your gaze to his back, occupying yourself by mentally tracing the subtle patterns in his coat of white damask silk.

Ultimately, he offered you a seat, and as you accepted with another curtsey, he sat himself a respectable distance away, only the slightest stiffness of his limbs betraying his condition as he settled into the chair opposite you. In fact, you could imagine he occupied his throne in much the same manner as he leaned back, both white-gloved hands curving over the ends of its arms. A servant, unbidden, came forth out of the shadows with a fresh cup of wine, which you took with a polite nod. The man then retreated as quietly as he had arrived, disappearing beyond sheer curtains of pale fabric.

And then, you talked.

It was mostly he who asked the questions, and you answered them as best as you were able; you weren’t brave enough to ask him much of anything, and so you settled for what small bits of information he voluntarily divulged over the course of your conversation. All in all, it was a relatively light discussion. He mostly inquired about your homeland and of your journey – of whether you had experienced any hardships or had witnessed anything of interest on your way to the Holy City, and if you had troubles acclimating to Jerusalem. It was during this exchange that you revealed the caravan’s run-in with thieves… how they had stolen what small bit of jewelry you possessed, sneaking in and out of the tents of the pilgrims and vanishing into the desert night before anyone could catch them.

You only offhandedly mentioned the brooch as the one piece you had any sentimental attachment to. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure if he had been listening at that point, as he had closed his eyes for a long time. You thought perhaps he might even have fallen asleep for a moment; if so, you couldn’t blame him, as you knew his condition was exhausting – you couldn’t imagine dealing with it on top of everything else expected of a king.

It was also quite possible that you were boring the poor man out of his mind with your lengthy and rambling answers, and he was simply too polite to cut you off.

Yet if what your gut was telling you was right, then he had indeed been listening, and far more closely than you could ever have realized…

You hadn’t known, however, at the time. Instead, you’d felt increasingly self-conscious as his eyes opened again, their gaze meeting yours with a piercing stare. Truly, it was as if he was looking through you rather than at you as you turned the conversation to lighter matters – mostly all the wonderful sights you’d seen since arriving in the Holy Land, especially Jerusalem itself. Your observations seemed to please him, and he voiced his gladness that you were, for the most part, enjoying yourself. You’d thanked him for his hospitality, and it wasn’t long after that the discussion ended, king and subject cordially parting ways with nod and curtsey.

Little did you know that one meeting would soon turn into two. Then three. Then more.

Somehow, a few days after your unexpected first encounter, you ran into him again in the garden – though, thankfully, not literally this time. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he once more invited you to further conversation in private, and again you accepted. This time, he inquired if you knew the game of chess, and to your surprise (and secret amusement) he appeared rather pleased when you affirmed that you did. He then promptly challenged you to a match, to which you heartily agreed. Yet even though you were handily beaten, it was an enjoyable game, and you found yourself acquiescing to a future rematch.

It wasn’t long before these games became almost a routine part of your afternoon, save for the days when His Majesty was busy with his council or holding court. And it was during the course of these games that you realized just how lonely he must have been. For the more games you shared, the fewer of them were seen to completion; far more time was spent talking with the board sitting untouched between you than it was actually playing.

He never kept you longer than you desired to stay, and certainly never more than was appropriate for an unmarried lady such as yourself. In fact, he seemed to leave the coming and going mostly to you. Yet you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes lit up when he saw you, their corners crinkling with a smile you couldn’t otherwise see. It broke your heart that he spent so much of his days, outside his duties, in near-isolation, when he was such a thoughtful, inquisitive, and intelligent soul… such a joy to converse with. And so you’d been sure to praise these qualities amongst your fellow courtiers whenever the chance arose…

It had only just occurred to you in the middle of a recent sleepless night that the reasons behind your persistent compliments might have run a bit deeper than the simple desire to keep his spirit alive in the court he barely saw.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when your eyes met – those eyes that you couldn’t quite decide were more like the sea or the sky. And it wasn’t just the content of his speech you enjoyed, but the way he delivered it… with a voice that was so easy to listen to for hours on end, so reflective of his serene and introspective nature.

And then there were the times, when he accidentally fumbled the pieces, that your fingers and his gloved ones nearly touched. When you both reached for the fallen pawn only for one of you to swiftly withdraw, each time followed by a soft chuckle. But you couldn’t ignore the sensation that charged the atmosphere, like the feeling that permeated the air just before a storm, and your heartbeat was the warning thunder in your ears…

You shook your head, your thoughts returning to the present as you rubbed your thumb over the brooch’s smooth gem. It was then that the tiniest doubt began to tickle and nag at the back of your mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if it was merely a coincidence? Something your heart foolishly yearned for, but that your mind knew well would never happen?

A frown pulled at your lips. Baldwin had proven to be someone to whom you could speak about almost anything without fear of reprisal. Nothing you had confided in him had ever escaped the bounds of his chamber – and there was plenty you had discussed, especially lately. Even if he hadn’t sent this jewel, you could trust him to advise you with wisdom. And despite his relative absence from court, there was no one who knew its members better…

By the time your handmaid returned to help you prepare for the evening, you’d made up your mind.

“I shall wear the blue bliaut tonight. To match this lovely brooch.”

================

Even past the bandages of thin linen and the silken veil covering his ears, Baldwin could still hear the distant strains of music floating through the palace’s long and lonely corridors… the latest in Sibylla’s efforts to keep the place lively even as its king slowly wasted away, out of sight and out of mind.

He could have made a surprise appearance, he supposed. He did that on occasion, whenever he felt particularly energetic, much to his physicians’ chagrin. It was mildly intriguing to see what kind of looks he would receive and from whom– though by this point, those expressions and their bearers had become almost boringly predictable. Fear and awe were ever present, manifesting in the form of slackened jaws and widened eyes and hushed whispers behind hands and veils. Rarer looks of disgust and revulsion were always quickly covered by feigned indifference. Then there were those especially-bold souls who dared to reveal their open contempt in their thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

It was pity, however, that he despised the most.

Dread, loathing, hatred – these were all traits with which any monarch could be clothed whether they wished to or not. Such was the burden of leadership. But pity…

Pity was a mantle that was distinctly his to wear.

Every time he saw it in the faces of those who looked upon him, he was reminded that his crown was secondary to his condition. That they saw the Leper before they saw the King. It was not that he lacked appreciation for those who truly worried for his health and his well-being, but in their eyes he saw reflected back at him what he tried desperately to ignore from the moment his physicians departed in the morning until they returned at night to dress his wounds.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath his mask, and his quill stilled, poised for a moment in the one hand of his that still had life in it before he reached to return the pen to its stand.

Lady Y/N had never looked at him that way.

Sitting back in his chair, he wondered if she was enjoying herself this night. If Sibylla was hosting her well. He hoped that she was, and that his sister had not overwhelmed the poor girl with her almost shamefully lavish tastes. It was evident that Y/N was quite unused to Jerusalem’s abundance in almost every respect; those first few days after her arrival at court, her wide-eyed wonder had rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, or so he’d heard.

A light hum escaped him at the memory of their first meeting. It seemed as though it was forever ago, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if it were only yesterday.

She had been rather distracted, he recalled… so distracted, in fact, that she hadn’t seen him in the corridors, watching as she’d unwittingly wandered into the realm of the royal apartments. With great accuracy, he’d anticipated the trajectory of her meandering steps, and he purposefully made to intercept her before she breached the threshold of what the guards deemed acceptable, even for a lost lady.

Baldwin wasn’t quite as quick as he used to be, though, in part due to that damned dragging foot of his, and he’d neglected to account for his reduction in speed, resulting in an unfortunate collision on the terrace above the gardens.

Or perhaps, he thought in hindsight, it was fortunate after all…

He’d heard enough from his informants to guess who she was. Tiberias and others amongst his court might have suspected she was an assassin simply playing the part of a lost newcomer, and he had to admit that the thought had crossed his own mind, if briefly; in a world such as theirs, it was difficult to imagine anyone without some kind of ulterior motive. Yet it soon became apparent that she was as innocent as the day was long – if there was anything his disease had given him, it was experience reading tone and body language, and he wasn’t certain the best actress in the world could have feigned her level of self-conscious nervousness.

No, Y/N was simply curious and lost. And from what those same informants had told him, she was in desperate need of someone local she could trust. Though evidently satisfied with her new home in every other way, she had been slow to acclimate to the social environment of the court, preferring to keep to herself whenever possible. From this, he suspected her need to get away from the appraising gazes of total strangers was what had initially propelled her away from the great hall, and her natural inquisitiveness had continued to pull her into the quieter depths of the palace.

But the faint smile she’d worn and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with fear the instant she realized who she’d run into, and the stuttering apology and low curtsey she’d given him betrayed her anticipation of reprimand.

That was something he’d had to correct, and quickly.

In the moments that followed, he’d gauged it most appropriate for them to smooth over this encounter by getting to know each other better, and thus he’d invited her to do just that in the privacy of his quarters, where they would face little chance of interruption.

As he’d hoped, she’d accepted. And it was this first conversation of theirs that had led him to believe that Lady Y/N was terribly lonely.

Her chatter was slightly nervous and yet, at the same time, somewhat eager. There was little doubt that he’d learned far more about her than she had about him; with but a little coaxing, he had discovered much about her circumstances and about what plagued her. It had displeased him greatly to hear about the thieves that had raided her entourage’s tents on the way to the Holy City, and it irked him even more that she’d lost a treasured possession because of it. Her journey had already been a long and arduous one – had that not been enough?

Y/N put up a rather convincing façade of indifference on the matter, but when he focused on her voice alone, he heard her pain. No, she was no actress, he concluded.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her willingness to make eye contact with him… to look him full in the face and speak freely with every question he asked; she dodged neither query nor gaze. Outside her initial fright on the balcony, she displayed few other signs of trepidation regarding his presence. In fact, it seemed as though she’d just been waiting for someone with whom she could share her thoughts and feelings – as if she’d bottled up everything he’d asked about since arriving in Jerusalem and finally found someone willing to listen.

Had she truly felt so comfortable with him already, or was she simply a trusting soul? He was unaccustomed to both, and it was… refreshing.

His instincts warned him that the jackals of the court would surely eat her alive, and he feared what their viciousness might do to her. What kind of slander and gossip would come from what had been innocent curiosity on her part. How much her character would be maligned for sport. The very thought of it being a possibility made his blood boil.

Over the course of their subsequent conversations, however, he was forced to rethink that initial assumption. Kind-hearted she was, and still too good for the likes of her peers, but she could hold her own among them better than he had anticipated; a few casual inquiries over a few chess matches revealed that much. She saw, heard, and understood far more than her outward appearance would suggest. Behind that warm, gentle, and charmingly-inquisitive exterior was a clever and tenacious woman whom he found to be utterly captivating. No matter the storm around her, she always projected an air of geniality and good cheer, evidently determined not to let this unsettled world tear her down.

In short, the court didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve her.

She never asked him for anything, and likewise she didn’t press questions upon him about his condition. Whenever they passed time together, he felt like neither king nor leper, but like an ordinary man. In her sparkling eyes and healing presence, he saw not pity, but life. A normal life for once. One where he did not have to dread what the next morning might bring.

Alas, that glorious feeling of contentment left him with her every departure.

The sound of exuberant cheers down the corridor pulled him from his musings, and he found himself back in the relative darkness of his chambers, watching the candle’s flame flicker upon his desk. He wondered which dance it was they’d just finished, imagining Y/N in his mind’s eye moving as hypnotically as that very flame. If she danced as beautifully as he envisioned, she would have the whole court entranced…

“Sire, you have a request for an audience.”

The guard called from the entrance to his quarters.

“Who is it?” he asked, hope, dread, and fear all churning in his stomach in a toxic maelstrom. He hadn’t the patience or the energy to deal with most petitioners this night, other than-

“Lady Y/N.”

His eyes widened.

That was quick.

Hope surged forth at the mention of her name, but neither dread nor fear was eliminated by this revelation. Not completely. He had a feeling the gifting of the brooch he’d commissioned would bring her to him sooner or later, but he hadn’t anticipated it being that very day, and especially not with the festivities Sibylla had planned…

Perhaps it is not that, he reminded himself solemnly, but something else altogether.

“I will see her,” he called back at last. “Let her pass.”

There were precious few seconds for him to compose himself before he saw her, at first a shadow at the entrance to his chambers, and then illuminated by lamp and candlelight as she cautiously strode forth. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of her, her eyes glittering like stars from all those dancing fires. She wore the most beautiful court dress he’d ever seen her in – a sapphire-blue silk bliaut, laced tight at the sides to flatter her form, seemingly a thousand shimmering pleats flowing from her hips to the floor. At her waist had been tied a fabric belt of lighter blue, embroidered in gold, double-wrapped about her body and knotted in front in Frankish style. Her belled sleeves, with their golden trim, allowed only a glimpse of her stark white chemise beneath, and there, upon that same trim that adorned the dress’s wide neckline, had been pinned the brooch, pulling the dipping V above her heart into an elegant keyhole.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a curtsey, offering a smile that shot straight to his heart. “I hope I haven’t come at an inopportune time.”

“Not at all,” he gestured for her to rise, turning in his seat to fully face her, “although I would have expected you to be at my sister’s gathering.”

Another smile. “I was, in fact. Alas, I felt the need to speak with you on a matter of great import. I hope Her Highness can forgive me for my early departure.”

The king nodded once. “I am all but certain she will. I am, however, glad you were at least able to make an appearance,” he remarked as he slowly rose from his chair, stifling a groan that threatened to escape him from his aching limbs. Then, pausing, he tilted his head as he allowed himself to take in her attire once more. “You look lovely. It would have been a shame to have wasted such beauty on my poor eyes alone; better indeed that you allowed others with keener sight the chance to appreciate your taste and talents before slipping away to these dark and distant halls.”

Even in the low candlelight, he could see her cheeks flush, and as her gaze briefly flicked away from his, he felt his twisted lips pull into an unseen smile.

“You are too kind, my lord,” she replied. “In truth, I found myself… inspired… by this new jewel I received just this afternoon.” Her fingers drifted to that very piece, pinned above her heart, and Baldwin forced himself to school his gaze… to pretend he hadn’t been the one to write up the specifics of its creation for the royal jeweler… that he hadn’t entrusted it to Tiberias to give to a capable courier… that he hadn’t prayed to God he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by daring to tread on this unknown path.

“Do you like it?” she asked suddenly, her eyes meeting his. “Believe it or not, it is, in fact, the subject of my concern.”

Something in both her gaze and her tone told him she’d made the assumption he wished. Good. He had no desire to drag this out; indeed, hadn’t the time for it. And now that she was here, following the lead he’d purposefully fashioned, his only task was to find out if Tiberias was truly right about her and her feelings…

Swallowing back where his heart had gathered in his throat, he replied coolly, “Yes, it suits you. Although, I am uncertain as to why you would approach me for such an opinion,” he added with a chuckle, slightly bemused at the way she was choosing to approach this mystery. Indicating the chess table where they’d held so many conversations of late, he beckoned, “Come. Sit.”

Wordlessly, she acquiesced, dipping her head before moving to take her usual place, as he did his.

“I…” she began after a moment, her stare focused on one of the pieces as he settled himself opposite her. “Well, the truth is, I was hoping I could ask you for advice in a matter related to it. Regarding the one who sent it to me, in fact.”

“Yes?” he prompted as he watched her. Time to confirm that assumption.

“Well, you see… I don’t really know who sent it…”

His eyes met hers, squinting a little. “You don’t?” he asked, keeping the skepticism from his tone as he began to pull her thoughts from her.

“No.” She shook her head. “There was no name on the note that accompanied it, so I cannot know for certain who might have sent it. But,” yet another smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her eyes sparkling again as she leaned forth and propped her elbows on the edge of the table, “I do have an idea, and I was hoping perhaps I might pass my thoughts by you. You know a great many in your court, after all. Perhaps you could confirm or deny my suspicions?”

Oh yes, she knew. He knew she knew. And now she played with him as much as he with her, both seeking confession…

“Perhaps I could,” he answered musingly. “What are your thoughts, then, Lady Y/N?”

“Well,” she began, dropping her gaze to the pieces once more, her fingertips toying with the white king, “I was just thinking of how appropriate such a gift was. Indeed, the person who sent it must know me rather well. It appeals so much to my tastes and is so fitting given recent events.”

His heart felt like it was about to beat itself out of his chest. “How fortuitous.”

“My thoughts precisely,” she agreed, glancing up at him. “And of those whom I’ve spent the most time with, there are few who would know me in such a manner.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

She paused, and he felt her eyes studying him intensely. “In fact, there is only one man who would have known just how fortuitous it was. Only one who would have known I would have need of such a piece. Now,” she leaned back a little, offering him a pointed look, “I do realize that brooches are popular as courting gifts,” she paused, her gaze latching to his, “but even so, I find the choice rather… convenient. Don’t you, my lord?”

“Yes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I understand your meaning.”

Deafening silence stretched between them during which neither of them moved.

“Only one man,” she repeated, her own voice having gone quiet, and Baldwin saw her eyes glimmer in the lamplight. Before he could even open his mouth to offer another comment, she leaned forward again, her gaze burning a hole through him. “Only one man who bothered to know me. To know my heart. To care for me and my life enough to remember what I held dear.” He saw her swallow heavily. “You, my king. You sent it to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding once in affirmation.

“Do you mean it?”

Her question was barely a whisper, yet Baldwin felt it in his heart – a probing inquiry seeking out the truth of his intentions.

His blood was rushing in his ears. “Every word, written and unwritten.”

And with that final admission everything was confirmed on his part. But as for hers…

The tears were obvious in her eyes now, pooling at the edges of her lashes. In that moment, he was sure he understood how the condemned felt just before the stroke of the headsman’s axe, before the tightening of the hangman’s noose. What would her answer be, then? He knew in his heart it would be better for her to simply walk away. But would she? Would she willingly doom herself to heartbreak?

At last Y/N spoke once more, her voice a tremulous whisper, and he hung upon every word as though his very life depended on it.

“I know this cannot be a courtship in the traditional sense,” she began softly, her liquid stare never leaving his, “and I know what the others will say…”

He began to feel lightheaded. At this rate, he was going to faint before he could hear her answer in full.

“…but I don’t care. For as long as there is life left in both of us, my king, I am yours. In whatever capacity you desire.”

“Oh.”

The word left him on a whoosh of breath, hissing behind his mask as relief washed over him in a powerful wave, every muscle in his body relaxing at once. Yet he couldn’t help the warped smile that overtook his countenance behind that façade of silver at the implications of her words.

She…?

“Yes,” she said with a nod, as if hearing the question his thoughts posed. A soft laugh followed, even as a shimmering tear slowly tracked down her cheek. “I love you, Baldwin. With all my heart. And I have since the day we met.”

At that, then, there was no longer any question of her feelings. He felt his own eyes welling with emotion, and he leaned towards her as close as he dared, propping his good hand on the table for support. “I regret that I will never be able to show you the extent of my own for you, my dear Lady Y/N. But understand this…” he paused, swallowing heavily. “My purest devotion has and always will belong to you. As much as a wretch such as I can be, I, too, am yours.”

She shook her head. “You are no wretch. Not to me.”

It was then her hand slowly moved towards where his gloved one yet lay on the table’s polished surface, and he flinched, a spike of fear darting through him like the bolt from a crossbow. “Y/N, no…”

Her gaze bored into his, her hand yet poised above his own. “I’m not afraid, my lord.”

“Y/N… please…”

The word was barely a whisper, slipping between the slightly-parted lips of his mask before he could catch it – a cry for her to stop and yet a plea for her not to. It was as if he had been paralyzed, unable to move away despite every corner of his mind screaming at him to withdraw.

If the glove was not enough… if it couldn’t safeguard her…

And yet all thoughts of everything came to a halt the moment her fingers lightly grazed his own, his breath catching in his throat. He felt it – the warmth of her through the thin silk – and it took all of his strength not to flinch away from her again, to curl his hand into a fist and recoil in upon himself to protect her from his horrid disease. Her eyes searched his, seemingly sifting through his soul as further she went. Slowly. Steadily. Her fingertips brushed with a feather-light touch over each set of knuckles, back and forth, and he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were desperate for air as she traced the delicate golden embroidery on the back of his hand; they finally betrayed him then, a shuddering exhale followed by a hitched intake of air he was certain she heard.

Yet Y/N only smiled at him once more, in that warm and gentle way of hers, her hand stilling as it rested atop his. And the entire world stilled along with it, his fear slowly ebbing as reason returned to replace it. These touches were all they had, he realized. All they could permit themselves. And yet still they could hold all the tenderness of a kiss.

Speaking of which…

He moved much more gently, then, as he twisted his hand underneath hers to catch her fingers in his grip. His gaze holding hers, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles before bringing that hand to his mask, where the cold and unfeeling lips touched the back of it in place of his own disfigured ones.

Despite not being able to give her a proper kiss, though, she evidently still understood the gesture, as another blush flushed her cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he remarked dryly, “There appears to be a bit of an obstacle here…”

At that, uncontrollable laughter burst from her, merry and full, and she clamped her other hand over her mouth to muffle it, leaning against the back of the chair as she continued to shake. He, too, laughed softly at her merriment, and for a moment the sound filled the room with a kind of joy it hadn’t witnessed in years.

After a moment, Y/N finally recovered, and she glanced over her shoulder as the faint strains of another song could be heard. Her gaze glittering with stars, both hands grasped his now and gently tugged as she stood. “Come. Dance with me.”

He blinked even as he slowly rose before her. “I… fear I’m not capable of much these days…”

“Not to worry,” she assured him with a grin, “I’ve just the dance in mind. Like this…”

With that, she pulled him to the open floor at the center of his chambers and began to show him the steps – two sidesteps here, two sidesteps there, a slow twirl of the lady in his arms, and begin again. For the first few cycles, she counted quietly until he caught the rhythm, and then there was only a warm, comfortable silence between them, the two gently swaying and turning to the distant music.

Tiberias was right. In that moment, Baldwin knew only happiness. Peace. Comfort. And so long as Y/N, too, felt these things, he could be content with whatever God had willed for him. He could only pray that, upon his death, the Almighty would be merciful to this woman, a living angel on Earth…

================================================

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! If you want more of my writing, I also have a WIP Baldwin-centric longfic posted on Ao3 (shameless plug)! 😁Do let me know if you want me to continue this Y/N story! I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, the dance mentioned at the end of the story was inspired by this lovely one:

[frownyalfred]

I reread the eye in the sky for the second time today, holy shittyttt.

Anyway got any more fun lore that you wanna add but can't in the fic?

Oooh good question! I’m glad folks liked the little extra bits at the end of last chapter, I really wanted to make sure I wasn’t too JK Rowling-y dropping all that, haha.

There were some pieces I couldn’t include on Duke’s childhood in Gotham and growing up under the Regime. I really wanted him to stay in the present and focus on the Watchtower, and I hate writing most flashbacks (ASOH doesn’t count).

Clark and his parents dying — I mentioned this in a recent ask. I had a scene in my mind where Clark went to Bruce for comfort after it happened, but before he officially took Bruce for the Regime. They were enemies but Bruce understood his grief as a truce, I think.

Dinah and Ollie — I think I mentioned on here before, I hc’d that Ollie was killed after defecting and trying to sneak back into the Regime as a double agent. His goal was to rescue Bruce or possibly to kill him, depending on what he knew/if he was actively collaborating. My hc was that Ollie didn’t know about the later half of his own mission until it was too late and Kal found out. Dinah was almost taken after trying to help Ollie with this from the inside, grievously injured, and kept in a high security Regime black site so the Insurgency couldn’t take her back. She was smart, she tried to help Bruce and never gave up on Earth — but Ollie’s confidence damned them both.

Bruce’s attempt to crash the Watchtower (that he references to Duke) actually almost worked. It freaked the fuck out of Kal and changed a lot of what he let Bruce do.

Kal’s “Clark” time has a lot of rules and Bruce reluctantly plays by them. It hurts them both, so much. Most of the time it’s not intimate or sexual at all, Kal wants to pretend they’re friends again. They do the crossword and Kal chats about “cases” with Bruce (old cases long closed).

[pepsiboyy]

idk if you take fic requests! but maybe a fic based off of Greek God by Conan Gray. like Matt or Chris pretend they don’t like yn where they’re around their sport (whatever sport, you choose!) friends. they all have a really high ego and are cocky. but there’s a tension between M/C and yn bc they used to be friends until M/C got popular but yn didn’t so now they’re not friends cuz M/C let his popularity status get to him. but they sometimes speak on the down low (M/C doesn’t wanna be seen talking to yn) they’re families are family friends which is why they’re technically forced to still talk every once in a while. but eventually the tension gets too intense, and well, M/C can’t handle it anymore and it ends up turning into a childhood friends to enemies to lovers type story 🤭 ALSO, YN STANDS HER GROUND AND DOESNT LET M/C GET HER THAT EASILY, SHES NOT JUST GONNA FALL FOR HIM INSTANTLY CUZ HE FINALLY STARTS PAYING ATTENTION TO HER!! thanks!!

GREEK GOD.

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: just read the request :p warnings: cursing, mentioned of alcohol, being drunk, use of y/n lol, angst (resolved sorta) a/n: THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST!!! i hope it's what you were looking for, i spent a lot of time trying to make this work :") thank you so much for the request!!

i stood at the edge of the ice rink, my hands clasping together with high hopes.

i came to cheer on matt and chris, with nick seated beside me as he scrolled through instagram and snacked on some chips that he brought.

nick was my best friend, without a doubt. i told him everything. matt was one of my comfort friends. someone i didn't talk to as often as nick, but enough to where i feel fully comfortable talking to him about whatever may happen. chris, on the other hand...

chris was chris.

it was hard to describe the dynamic the two of us shared.

chris and i actually used to be closer than me and nick, or anyone, honestly.

he would pick me up when i fell, give me some of his snacks and even a sip of his pepsi if i wanted. he would reassure me when i felt low, and even put me in my place if he knew i was out of line.

before we knew it, high school rolled around. freshman year was relatively normal, sophomore year too.

junior year he started making newer friends, but he also had a different lunch period from the rest of us. i'd only really see him when matt gave me rides home.

senior year rolled around, and chris was a changed person. ever since he made it to the varsity hockey team with his new friends, he changed. he claims it's because we "grew apart" but we didn't. he goes out of his way to make me look bad in front of his friends, or even act like he has no idea who i am. it kind of made me feel stupid.

matt being on varsity with him didn't help his case at all, either.

so, when i came to watch them play, nick would sit with me and i would cheer on them both, even if chris pretended to hate me.

so, here i am. standing at the edge of the rink with nick, who was now standing beside me as we watched the two we knew and loved. matt effortlessly weaving past a defender, sending the puck flying towards chris, who sent it into the goal and made it.

the sound of skates cutting through ice was sharp in my ears, and the bright arena lights cast a glow over everyone while each and every cheer echoed in the cold air.

i remember when we all used to skate together freshman year here, the arena empty and our arms all linked together because i couldn't skate for the life of me, on matter how bad i tried.

those days felt like a lifetime ago now.

you had all grown a lot since then.

apart, apparently.

"hey, y/n, what are you doin' here?" a boy from the team questioned, skating to the glass with a cocky grin. "came to see the champ?" he asked, referring to chris.

i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, allowing my eyes to trail elsewhere. "just here to support my friends." i mumbled.

chris glanced over, his expression neutral, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes - guilt, maybe, or recognition of the unspoken tension between them. before i could look away, he turned back to his friends, laughing at some joke i couldn't hear.

i sighed and took a seat beside nick again, letting out a soft hum as i did. the familiar sting of hurt and anger was beginning to get to me.

the memory of chris and i being inseparable, chris changing, chris making fun of me to his friends, all of it. it hurt. popularity inflated his ego, and i always refused to be an admirer in his little fan club.

after the game, i found myself lingering near the exit of the rink. i typically waited for the crowd to die and the traffic to slow down before leaving. it was too busy for me.

the locker room door swung open, and out poured the hockey team that was riding out the high of their win. chris was among them, laughing loudly and tossing his hockey stick over his shoulder. we met eyes for a moment, and his smile seemed to falter. until he leaned to a friend of his and nudged them, mumbling something to make them both laugh.

"hey, y/n!" chris called out. "didn't think you'd stick around here. still obsessed with me or what?"

i stared at chris with a deadpanned expression. "stop getting me to stroke your ego, christopher." i bit back, trying to keep my voice steady.

this shit was annoying, really.

chris's friends snickered, and he shrugged it off, turning away as if i were nothing more than an afterthought to him. "whatever. let's get out of here."

the group moved past me, their laughter seeming to echo in the hallway. i felt a lump form in my throat, but i refused to let anyone see me get upset over something to miniscule.

i knew this version of chris was a facade, but that didn't really make it hurt any less. the boy i once loved and cared for deeply was now buried under layers of arrogance and bravado, and i wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

the crowd began to die down, so i gathered myself and pushed out of the door, making my way towards my car.

as i walked towards the car, i saw chris again, this time with his brothers as they leaned against their minivan and talked about the game together.

for a moment, chris looked up, and our eyes met. there was a flicker of something in his gaze - regret, maybe, or a silent apology - but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

he mumbled something to his brothers before he kicked off and made his way towards me.

"need a ride home? matt can take you." his tone was casual, but strained.

i stared at chris for a moment in disbelief, before quickly shaking my head and sighing. "no thanks. i can manage."

chris opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it, looking away. the silence between us stretched, and it filled with all the things left unsaid.

and with that, i turned on my heel and began walking home.

saturday. the days where the sturniolo household invited me for dinner were so much fun, genuinely. they were an amazing family. and chris typically acted normal around her when she was invited over.

i pulled into the driveway of their home, smiling softly to myself as i turned the music down. i pulled down the mirror and fixed my hand, humming to myself before taking my keys.

i was wearing something pretty cozy, just a crewneck and some bleached jeans and converse. they were like my second family, no need to get fancy.

i knocked on the door, where matt answered and pulled me into a hug of greeting. "hi, y/n," he breathed and smiled softly before leading me further into their home, where i was met with nick, marylou, their mother, and jimmy, their father.

"where's chris?" i questioned, the words falling from my lips faster than i could stop them.

nick exchanged a look with matt before he shrugged. "not sure, he just said he was going to some hockey party for their win last night."

i scoffed and nodded, taking a seat in my usual spot between nick and marylou.

the empty chair across from me was honestly quite intimidating. more than it would have been if chris were there.

chris was always the one with crazy stories and conversation topics.

we sat in a comfortable silence, though, which i'm sure nick and matt enjoyed as they listen to chris every day of their lives.

"you're still goin' to their hockey games and cheerin' em on?"

marylou questioned, and i turned to her and smiled. "yeah, they're really great, actually." i smiled softly, and marylou nodded.

"i know chris has been on a bit of an ego train, i hope he's still been kind to you guys." jimmy mumbled softly.

i swallowed and rubbed the back of my head. "yeah, he's been great, actually." i lied.

nick and matt stared at me, but decided not to question it before continuing their meal.

but then my phone began to ring, and everyone's attention shifted to me.

"i'm so sorry," i quickly mumbled as i removed it from my pocket and immediately felt every bit of air in my lungs leave.

why is chris calling me?

i rose to my feet and held up a finger, chuckling nervously. "i'm gonna take this," i mumbled quickly.

i made my way down the hall and to the front room. "hello?" i questioned softly.

"y/n/n," chris slurred on the other end. "i- i'm at a party, and.." he trailed off before giggling to himself, "i might.. need a ride home," he mumbled.

i sighed, rubbing my temple in annoyance. "where are you?"

chris mumbled an address, hardly coherent. "can you... can you come get me? please?"

i sighed to myself. "why can't you get matt or nick or something?"

"they'll get pissed," he stated, a little clearer than the rest of his sentences. "i don't want them to worry about me." chris struggled to get the word worry out of his system, making me crack a slight smile.

"fine," i stated as i fixed myself, "stay put. i'll be there soon."

i hung up the phone and made my way back to the dining room, where everyone collectively turned to me.

"everything alright?" nick asked, and i quickly nodded.

"everything's good, i do have to go, though. i'm so sorry you guys. i'll make it up to you?" i smiled. "i just, um.. have to run."

they all exchanged looks before nodding and bidding me farewell, nick walking me out.

i sat in my car and typed the address into my phone, rubbing my forehead.

i didn't enjoy parties. they were loud, sweaty, gross and full of annoying ass kids. usually.

and as i pulled up, it was just that. a typical high school party scene - loud music, teenagers spilling out onto the lawn, and the faint smell of alcohol and weed in the air. i found chris on the footsteps, his head buried in his hands. i quickly made my way towards him after parking and kneeled down in front of him.

"come on, let's get you home." i said, helping him to his feet.

chris leaned on my heavily as we made our way to my car. i buckled him in and got into the driver's sear, the tension between us palpable in the confined space. as i drove, chris mumbled some incoherent words, his head lolling against the window.

"y/n," he suddenly said, his voice clearer but thick with emotion. "i'm sorry."

i glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "for what?"

"for everything," he continued, his eyes half-closed. "for being an ass. for ignoring you. for... for all of it."

i took a deep breath as i felt a mixture of sadness and anger bubbling within me. i gripped the steering wheel tighter, unsure of how to respond. "you're drunk, chris. you don't know what you're saying."

"no," chris insisted, reaching out and touching my arm. "i do, i've been a jerk. i miss you. i miss us."

i pulled into my own driveway, knowing chris wouldn't want to see his family like this. i would just take his phone and send them a text saying he was with a friend tonight or something.

i turned off the engine and took a deep breath. "let's get you inside."

chris stumbled out of the car, leaning on me for support the whole way to the door. i fished for my keys and unlocked the door, quickly guiding him to my living room couch.

as i laid a blanket over him, he grabbed my hand as his eyes locked with mine.

"i still care about you, y/n. i always have."

my heart pounded, but i forced a laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "sleep it off, chris. we'll talk in the morning, okay?"

i brushed a few loose strands from his forehead and stood up, turning off the light and going to my room. my mind raced with conflicting emotions.

part of me wanted to believe his drunken confession, but another part of me was still so angry. still hurt by the way he had treated me. as i laid in bed and stared at my ceiling, i couldn't shake the feeling that things between us were far from over. and that this was just the beginning of a much more complicated story.

the sizzling of the bacon on the oven was comforting, in a way. i had an airpod in, playing some softer, but upbeat music to get me up and going for the long, long day ahead.

i turned my head upon hearing some shuffling in the kitchen, meeting eyes with chris. "morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"morning," i replied, placing a plate of food with bacon, eggs and sausage onto the counter in front of him. "eat up. you'll feel better."

he sat down and started eating, occasionally glancing at me as i cleaned up the kitchen. after a few minutes of awkward silence, he looked at me. "look, about last night.."

i crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. "what about it?"

chris looked down at his plate, poking at his eggs. "i meant what i said, you know. but i was drunk, and.. and maybe it didn't come out right-"

"maybe?" i questioned, my voice sharp. "you've been treating me like i don't exist for months, chris. one drunken apology doesn't fix that."

he winced at my words, but nodded. "i know, i've been an idiot. i got caught up in... everything. the team, the popularity. but that's no excuse."

"no, it's not." i stated, my anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "you think you can just waltz back into my life with a half-assed apology and everything will be fine? it doesn't work that way." i spat.

chris stood up, stepping closer. "i'm not asking for everything to be fine overnight. i'm asking for a chance to make things right."

i shook my hear, my eyes flashing with frustration. "do you even realize how much you hurt me? how it felt to be ignored, to be treated like i was nothing?"

"i do now," he said quietly. "and i'm sorry. truly. i want to make it up to you, if you'd let me."

i looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of insincerity. he seemed genuine, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only the boy she used to know.

"i don't know if i can trust you," i admitted, my voice softer now.

chris reached out and took my hand in his. "i get that. and i will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

he pulled me into a tight hug, where i gently hugged his waist and took in his scent.

i missed this.

"just one date. give me a chance?" chris mumbled, the smile audible in his tone.

i hesitated, my mind racing. part of me wanted to say no, to protect myself from his bullshit. but another part of me remembered all of the good times.

"one date," i finally stated, my voice firm. "but this doesn't mean i'm just forgiving you, chris. you have a lot to prove."

he nodded quickly, his lips curving into a smile. "i promise i won't let you down."

i pulled away from his embrace and smiled at him before turning to the sink and doing the dishes. "you better now."

as i did the dishes, i felt a glimmer of hope mixed with lingering doubt. chris had a long way to go to earn the trust i had for him back, but for the first time in months, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could change.

[saragarnier]

Could I request a Jay Halstead x Female Reader fic. Where Jay and reader are married and they are chasing after a suspect when reader gets shot in the stomach. After surgery to take the bullets out, she feels like she's let Jay down and worries they will never start a family. But Jay reassures her they will have a baby one day.

Healing Process

Summary: y/n got shot in front of Jay and discovered that she might not be able to have children

Pairing: jay halstead x wife! reader

Warning: shooting, guns, blood, and angst. There’s also some fluff

A/N: I really hope you’ll like that! Thank you for your request because i really love writing this. Let me know if you like it, i hope it’s like you imagined it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Can you help me with the vest?” You asked to your husband, Jay Halstead, holding your hair to the side to make it easier for him.

“Of course, babe.” He reassured you, smiling softly and walking towards you; when he was right behind you, he adjusted your vest and he secured it, leaving a kiss on your neck when no one else was watching you. “The best part is taking that off, but i appreciate this too.” He whispered to your ear, making you blush.

“Jay!” You whispered back, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can’t say that at work, it’s forbidden! We both agreed to keep it as much professional as we could at work, no references to sex!”

Jay chucked, placing a kiss on your forehead and stepping back; he adjusted is own vest and positioned his gun in the holster placed on his right thigh.

He loved when you were angry and, first of all, he loved when he made you embarrassed because of his words. He perfectly knew the effect he had on you and he took advantage of that; when you reached him and tried to hit him slightly on his chest, he stepped back again.

“Come on babe, i’m just kidding!” He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and stopping you from hurting him; he hid his face between your hair and he sighed. “Anyway, tonight i’m gonna take that off for sure… we still have to try to have a baby, right?” He said, smiling softly and caressing your hips with his hands. He paid so much attention when he was with you, always trying to make you feel good, always trying to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes he messed around with you, mostly because he wanted to tease you and make you angry, but he always paid attention to your feelings and needs.

“Right.” You whispered, nodding slightly. You smiled again and you relaxed in his arms, even if talking about baby was difficult for you. It was three months now that you tried to get pregnant and it wasn’t easy to take those tests and, every time, discovered that you weren’t able to do it, you weren’t able to get pregnant. You really wanted to start a family with Jay, you just couldn’t stop thinking about a mini Jay running around the house pretending to be a cop like his father and his mother. It was a dream for you both, probably the biggest dream you had: starting a family with the love of your life.

“Yeah, i know. I always like, you know, the process…” you whispered, reddening. “But i’m also tired. I just want to got pregnant and i can’t understand why it hadn’t happen yet. I mean, the gynecologist said that there’s nothing wrong with my body, so… i wish that tonight will be the night.”

“It will, love.” He kissed your head again, then he let you go and he added some distance between you two, hearing Voight’s steps on the stairs. “I promise you that we’ll have a family together, but first of all we have to catch that guy, okay?”

You nodded , becoming serious at once. He was right after all, you were at work and you needed to be focused on the job, in the guy that you had to catch for murder. It was a member of a gang that decided to got revenge alone, avenging his sister that was raped by one of the rival gang. It was not an easy case at all, especially when you found the guy’s sister at the entrance, crying. She knew that her brother had took revenge on his own and she knew that it wasn’t right, that’s why she accused her own brother for murder.

It wasn’t easy to speak with her because she was the victim after all. She suffered two times: when she was raped and when she discovered that her brother killed her raper.

“I still can’t understand how strong she was to accuse his own brother for the murder of her raper. She was broken inside and, still, she chose to be by the justice’s side. It’s remarkable.”

Jay nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, i know. It’s not an easy case but we have to pay attention. Even if she asked us to not hurt her brother, we have to be careful: he’s in a gang, he already killed once and he can do it again. Don’t think about her till we got him, alright?”

You nodded again, looking at your Sergeant and the others, that were just waiting for you two; you adjusted your hair in a ponytail and you walked towards them, ready to go.

“Okay. First of all i want to remember you that we’ll have to be careful. I want you all alive at the end of the shift, am i clear?”

You all nodded, paying attention to his speech, that was never the same. Sometimes he just recommended caution and told them to came back in one piece, sometimes he remembered them that they’re all a family and that they had to be united. You knew that those were just words, but you always appreciated them, especially because they came from Voight, that always seemed cold and strict at first sight, but was also sweet and kind with everyone he cared of.

The address that the sister gave you was actually a good hint; you separated and you went to the back of the house with Jay and Kevin while Adam, Kim and Voight entered from the front.

“CPD!” You heard Adam’s voice from the other side of the house and you immediately approached the back door to open it with Jay and Kevin by your side. You busted it open and you entered with your gun pointing in front of you, then you started to check the house to verify if he was there or not.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

It was actually very obvious that the offender wasn’t in the house when you entered, but the beer on the table was still cold and you immediately understood that he was near.

“It’s still cold, he must have left some minutes before our arrival.” You pointed out, looking out of the window with your gun still in your hand, even if it was pointing at the floor. When you saw a figure outside the window, you got closer to identify him, but he started running away after dropping a box of pizza.

“Shit, he’s outside! He’s heading north!” You exclaimed, running after him with Jay at your side. The others got back to the cars, trying to stop him from the road while you two kept chasing him by foot.

“CPD, stop!” You screamed, running faster with your gun still in your hands. You tightened the grip in it, not sure about using it.

Before you could even think about that, the guy, after hiding behind a car on the road, pointed a gun at you both and started shooting at you.

“Gun!” You screamed, turning around towards Jay and throwing yourself on him, trying to took him down with you, where you both would have been covered.

“Are You okay?” You asked him, worried. He nodded and you both started to respond to fire.

“10-1, 10-1. Shots fired at the police. We need backup at our location. Black male, blue jeans and green hoodie.” You said at the radio, letting the rest of the unit know where you were. You took a deep breath, then you looked at Jay.

“Cover me!”

“What? No!” He screamed, trying to hold you from changing position. “It’s too far from here, he will shoot at us. We’re safe here and the unit’s coming. Just stay here and help me, we have just to resist.”

You looked at him, at how he responded to fire again and again but it never stopped; you didn’t know how many chargers the offender had, but he had many since it didn’t stop shooting , not yet. You had to do something about it, you just couldn’t stay there, responding to fire in a very bad position. You looked at Jay and you knew that at least you had to try; you didn’t tell him what you wanted to do because you were sure it wouldn’t have approved, you just did it.

You run towards another car that was at the other side of the road and you almost made it, you would have if Jay’s hadn’t finish on of his chargers. There was just few moments when Jay took his new charger from his pocket; he didn’t know that you were in the middle of the road when it happened, he just turned around to ask you how many chargers you still had and, when he didn’t see you there, he knew.

The first thing you heard was actually Jay screaming your name, then you heard the shot. You fell on the ground feeling a sharp pain in your abdominal area and, after that, all over your body. You knew that you were hit right under the vest and you knew that you were bleeding, you knew that because it was too much pain for just a bullet stopped by the vest. It wasn’t that, you had already felt that and the pain you were feeling was much worse.

Jay finally shot at the offender and he took him right in the chest; he fell on the ground without moving the same moment the rest of the unit arrived; Kevin ran towards the offender, discovering that he was dead, while the others ran towards you.

Jay was the first by your side while the others called an ambulance for you.

“Babe, shhh… you’re good, you will be good, okay? The ambulance is on its way” Jay applied as much pressure as he could, ignoring the moan of pain that escaped your lips. He could not let you die, not between his hands, not because of the fucking charger.

“Helps is seven minutes away.” Told a woman in the radio some moments after.

“It’s too much, we have to bring her to the hospital now!” Voight said, looking at Jay and the other. “Jay, can you took her into my car? I’ll drive you two to the hospital. Advise that we’re coming with an officer being shot.”

Jay didn’t wait a second: he took you in his arms and he got you inside Voight’s car, with him by your side. Your husband never left your side, he stayed with you all the time, applying pressure to your belly, where you were hit.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry but i have to do it, babe.” Jay whispered when you moaned in pain again, feeling his pressure just on the wound. You knew that he was just saving your life and that you would have done the same for him, but all you could think was: “please, make it stop.”

You didn’t talk, especially since you were afraid you wouldn’t have been able to do it; you were really tired and you felt the darkness falling on you. Jay’s words seemed so distant and you just wanted to sleep, just for few hours.

“No, no! Don’t sleep!”

You mumbled something with your eyes closed, hearing doors being closed hardly and feeling your body so light in your husband arms that you immediately noticed the difference when he placed you on the stretcher.

“We got her, Jay. We got her, okay?”

Will.

That was Will, Jay’s brother.

That was the last thing you remembered before the darkness won against you.

When you woke up the next day, you heard someone talking just outside your room; they seemed nervous and anxious but you couldn’t understand why. You tried to open your eyes but the light was too bright for you, so you shut them again, trying to hear your husband talking with his own brother.

“They had to remove one of her ovaries, Jay. The bullet hit her there and they couldn’t repair the damage; besides that, the uterus is still intact and the same is for the other ovary.”

Jay was just shocked. He couldn’t believe his ears, he couldn’t believe that your chance of becoming parents was fading away slowly.

“We were trying to have a baby, Will.” Your husband said, his voice broken.

“I know, i know but look, I already told you that. You can still ha-“

Before he could continue, you finally open your eyes and you looked at them, both didn’t know what to do or what to say. It seemed like Jay and Will saw you, that’s why they entered the room without finished the sentence. It was weird but you couldn’t blame them for that, especially since you just lost your chances of becoming a mother with Jay.

How could you deny him a family? Was it the best for him? Will he be happy with you even without your own kids?

It was all your fault: you should have listened to him and stayed right where he said to, you should have told him that you wanted to go again and you shouldn’t have just done it without consulting not only your partner in work, but also your partner in life.

“Babe, you’re awake finally.” Jay sighed in relief, taking your hand in his and caressing it gently. “I was so worried about you, love. Please next time just advise me before doing something so stupid, okay?”

Jay was really trying to postpone the time of the bad news, you knew that because Jay was so obvious, especially with you. He just couldn’t lie, he was too good for it, even for small lies.

“Did they really remove my ovary?” You whispered, hoping that everything you heard was just a dream.

Please, God, tell me it’s just a nightmare.

Jay got pale in seconds, looking at you with wide eyes and trying to think about something that could have helped you with that, that could have helped you feeling less worried about everything.

“Yes, they… they did.” He whispered, gulping.

You looked at him and cried, looking up at the ceiling. When he noticed how broken you looked, he squeezed your hand gently and he tried to reassure you.

“It’s all my fault, it’s my fault. Now we won’t be able to have a family together and it’s all my fault.” You cried harder, ignoring the pain that you felt when you sobbed. The stitches didn’t help you with that and it made the pain worse, but it didn’t hurt as much as the news about your ovaries.

“Babe, no, no.” He took both your hands and he obliged you to look at him in the eyes, shaking his head and looking at you, concerned. “It’s not your fault and we’ll have a family together, okay? It’s just one of the ovaries, it will be difficult to get you pregnant but we’ll do it, okay? We’ll have a family and, if we won’t we can still adopt.”

He was right, but you were too shocked to hear him; all you thought was how bad Jay wanted a family, you knew that the moment he asked you to be his wife and you knew that he always dreamed about being a dad. How could you deny him that dream?

“Maybe we should divorce.” You whispered, without fully thinking straight. “You always dream of having a family and you can’t with me. You know how many times we tried and i didn’t get pregnant; with only one ovary will be extremely difficult. You deserve a woman that can give you your own children, not someone like me…”

Jay shook his head, astounded. He couldn’t believe his ears, he could believe what you just said . Were you serious? How could you even think about that?

“What?! No!” He exclaimed, tightening your hand. “Look at me, babe. I do not care about having my own children, i just want a family WITH YOU. It won’t be the same with someone else, they’ll not be you and i only want to become a dad with you, my love. Besides, Will told that you still can become a mother, we’ll just have to rely on some specialist, maybe, that can help us with that, but we’ll have our baby, okay? You don’t have to be worried, we’ll be parents, i promise you that.”

You listened to him carefully and, slowly, you started to feel better. He was always able to help you calm down when you were panicking, and it was one of those moments. He was so sweet and calm with you, even when you said things like that, like a divorce.

Probably you would have panicked on his side, that’s why you thought that having Jay by your side as your husband was the best thing in your life.

He didn’t want to give up on having a family with you and you shouldn’t have too.

“Okay.” You whispered, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry Jay, i love you and I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sighed deeply, then he lowered down on your bed and placed a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair gently. “Don’t worry babe, i know that you didn’t expect it and i can understand why you reacted this way, but you don’t have to give up on our family because I won’t. I love you so much, babe and we’ll be parents together.”

You nodded and relaxed, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths.

He was right.

“I love you too, Jay, i really do.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand in yours and smiling softly. “And I can’t wait to become a mother with you.”

“You’ll be the best mom in the world.” He smiled again. “And I can’t wait to see you with a belly, my love. You’ll be amazing, you already are after all.”

You blushed and chuckled, hiding your face behind your hand.

“Have the doctor said when we’ll be able to try again with the pregnancy?” You asked, after some minutes.

“Not yet baby, but you have to heal before that. When you’ll be fine, we’ll try again and trust me, i can’t wait.”

“Jay!” You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. You smiled at him and you bit your bottom lip. “You’re incredible, but i love you so much.”

“Me too baby, me too.”

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

👑The girl in the silver dress👑New version

Aemond x reader

Tags: Fluffish, royalty, modernroyalty, theselection

Cool devider credits: firefly graphics

🔷Summary: You are invited to become a selected girl for Prince Jacaerys's selection. You never thought you would fall for his uncle, prince Aemond instead.

🔷Author's note: Based on the books by Kiera Cass, but reading them is not required.

🔷Wordcount :5393

🔷Warnings: It is not a very dark or triggering fic. If you found something that upsets you, however let me know ill change the warnings

The life you had before the palace was as a child’s coloring book before growing up. You didn't bother about crossing over the lines, no one told you to stop adding hats to the animals you coloured in, or to stop using so much pink and glitters. There was no line you could cross, no scissors wrapped in papers who could cut you open without you realizing.

All of that changed for better or worse when you were selected for the Selection of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon or as he would soon be known under his ruling name, King Jacaerys Velyaron. 

You never thought you would be selected. There are strict laws that only noble ladies from the minor houses can join the month-to-a-year-long competition where the Seven Kingdoms are introduced to his future bride. 

It is more than a beauty pageant. The skills of each bride are tested. The selection does not require mere Valyrian blood or beauty alone anymore. It has become a deadly game full of manipulation, lies, tricks, schemes and plots. Things you know nothing of.

Your house is not as grand as Baratheon, or as rich as Lannister, your house…It has always been decent. Your parents sheltered you from court life and tried giving you a normal life, as normal as one could have with your titles. And now, it all would change

You sit in the dining room of the royal castle, known as the Red Keep. The castle has survived multiple wars, sieges, treasons and deaths long before any of its current inhabitants graced this world, and many more would follow before you all are bones.

In front of you is a silver plate with a spoon, a fork, a knife and a glass. You never knew you cutted your food wrong or that you lean that much with your elbows on a table until your princess training began. 

It is all so terribly confusing. There are 35 girls here, and they want the same as you do. They want to be the one for Prince Jacaerys. They want to sit next to him at official functions and parties, they want one day to be his love, to continue his legacy and perhaps more than Jace, they want this glamorous life. 

You tell yourself that this uneasy feeling, that you don’t quite belong here, will fade. It has to. These girls are all from higher noble houses and used to courtly manners and training. Of course you will be a bit out of place at first. 

A gorgeous black-haired girl with a clear stag necklace with diamonds speaks up, rising from her chair as if she is already proclaimed queen. She turns to the woman who is tasked with guiding and teaching you all how to behave accordingly as the consort of the king. That lady is called Lady Aemma Arryn, yet you may refer to her as Lady Aemma or Lady Arryn. 

The girl’s voice has a slight accent from the Stormlands. ‘’When will we meet the royal family?’’ You believe her name is Floris, but you are not sure. You become slightly worried by her question, as you are in no state of preparation to meet anyone or anything royal at all.

Your teacher sighs, annoyed by this question. ‘’Patience, girls. I won’t introduce you to any royal. Some of you can curtsy but others would fall flat on their faces.’’ She doesn't even glance in your direction. So why do you feel as if she speaks directly about you?

Floris nods to that with a sweet smile, her eyes blinking rapidly. ‘’That would be embarrassing.’’ She says, eying the girls around the table, including you. You pretend to be too busy with your glass to notice.

Lady Aemma smiles. ‘’Yes it would.’’ She says, with a thinly veiled laugh. ‘’For you it would be.’’ She adds with a charming smile.

A few girls giggle delighted by this spectacle and amazing comeback. Floris becomes furious and you fear that for now, Lady Aemma has made an enemy. ‘’Ladies, focus. Remember: You are always one step away from a scandal.’’ The grand doors of the dining room open.

35 heads turn at the same time, taking in the mysterious visitors. It is two young adult males, both dressed in black, with each a motorcycle helmet under their arms. One is slightly taller yet the smaller one stands out the most thanks to his cheekish, boyish and almost taunting grin. 

Nervous chatter erupts among most girls, as they already seem to know who these two men are. You wonder if one of these two men is Jacaerys. The smaller one speaks, and despite the distance between you and him he speaks as if he is sitting right next to you, almost purring in your ear and sending shivers down your spine. ‘’I didn’t know the royal harem had been invited already.’’ 

You are offended by his comment and frown. The selection is not a harem. One girl will be chosen. One. This is nothing like a harem. The taller man remains silent, his expression unreadable as a book in a foreign language you only heard in a dream.

Lady Aemma smiles and for a moment you believe her. You believe she is happy to see both. Until the corners of her mouth slightly begin to hang in displeasure or perhaps pure disgust when she greets the man.

‘’Prince Aegon.’’ You slowly lift your elbows again from the table, quickly sitting straight. ‘’Forgive me, you nor your brother were expected back so quickly.’’ Aegon, or rather prince Aegon approaches the long table with 35 young women that stare at him as if he is a statue that has come to life.

Aegon takes no offense. ‘’It is no matter, Lady Aemma.’’ He makes sure to put a little extra effort on the lady word. ‘’You are getting old, after all.’’ Lady Aemma turns her head so he can’t see her scowl, very subtly before looking at the selected girls again.

She speaks to you all. ‘’Girls, this is Prince Aegon, and Prince Aemond. Please stand up for them, and make a curtsy as is custom.’’ You all stand up before following her orders, making a curtsy or a bow.

Aegon seems to enjoy the attention when his brother remains in the background, unaware of your gaze slowly shifting from Aegon's eyes to his own. When he finally notices your gaze, he scowls. Your smile dies and you turn your gaze to the glass in front of you. Aemond and Aegon leave soon after that, having caused quite the uproar among the selected.

The girl a few chairs away from you speaks, her blue and gorgeous dress reveals she is from either the Arryn, or perhaps a Velyaron. ‘’Is Jace just as pretty as them?’’ She wonders, her voice a little sigh of a girl slowly falling in love.

Lady Aemma scowls at her, before insulting the girl. ‘’Prince Jacaerys to you, and have some self-respect and decorum.’’ A few girls giggle, but you don’t join this time as you take in the sad smile of the girl, clearly embarrassed. 

Two months in the selection and you feel less like a failure every passing day. One day, when you are busy practicing the dance of the dragons, Lady Aemma returns from her walk. Several girls who have been practicing break up their dances, but you and your partner keep engaged in the dance. The girl was shy at first, keeping her movements stiff and ungracious, but after your encouraging smile and jokes about how you look like a parrot when you dance, she has loosened up and dances as if she is the most free and spirited girl out there. Her name is Maris. You and Maris smoothly glide over the dance floor, leaving jealous eyes behind. Not jealousy aimed at you, but at Maris or the bond you two have. Lady Aemma quietly walks over, her hands folded in front of her blue dress when she takes in the movements you and Maris make, faithful to the waltz.

She smiles, nodding in slight approval. You are shocked and you can tell that Maris is too. ‘’Good, especially you, Lady Baratheon. You are a natural.’’ To you, she does not utter a word but gives you a warning glare before turning her head to the other girls. You and Maris finally break up your dance so you can listen to what Lady Aemma has to say.

She sighs, deeply and very unbecoming of a lady, before speaking. ‘’Ladies, it is with great displeasure and my greatest fear that I must admit to myself, and you all, as adults, that you are finally ready to meet what could become your future family in law, as well his royal highness, prince Jacaerys Velyaron.’’ You hear Maris gasp, as well as other girls who giggle and mutter excitedly. Lady Aemma glares at one girl who lets out an excited cheer. ‘’Do not make me regret this.’’ She warns the girl in particular. 

That evening, you are prepared to meet the royal family. You are put in a silver coloured dress with transparent sleeves,  befitting your house colors. The other girls are dressed as well, each in another dress with a different model. When the selection started you all were giving a tailor, a handmaiden, a team of make-up artists and dressmakers. 

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t nervous to meet the royal family. They have a reputation for being intense people. They dislike outsiders joining their royal private circle, and for centuries banned people for even joining theirs. Now the rules have changed, and you are prepared for your meeting, hearing other girls talk with their teams.

Lady Floris Baratheon wears a dark black with gold gown, sleeveless with a huge diamond choker. Again, it would be a lie if you wouldn’t admit she wears it very well. She orders her maids to tighten her corset even more, before her small feet glide into her dark black heels.

You hear sniffs beside you, and turn your head to a gorgeous blonde crying girl in a red gown. Her make-up artist sighs. ‘’I can’t work like this. The girl keeps crying and it ruins the eyeliner I put on her.’’ Is he heartless? You feel conflicted as you take in her big puffy red eyes. She is upset.

The dressmaker does her best to comfort the girl, but fails miserably because of her annoyed glare and her tight pressed lips. ‘’You are ruining everything we worked so hard for with your tears.’’ She warns the girl. 

That only makes the girl feel even more terrible. ‘’I don’t know. What if he hates this? What if he hates me?’’  Your chest tightens as you become worried about that too.

A woman with her gorgeous silver locks high up on a knot in the Valyrian style, approaches the girl, gently taking her hands into her own. ‘’He doesn’t know you, he can’t hate you yet.’’ She tells the girl, who slowly calms down because of this act of sincere genuine kindness. That is all she needed.

The girl continues giving her advice as you listen in on them, feeling terrible that you do so. ‘’Jacaerys is very kind, and takes his role and the selection very seriously. He will have a small talk with all of us. Just be yourself, Jace likes that the most.’’ She finally notices you listening in. Instead of glaring or snapping at you, she smiles. ‘’You look beautiful. Silver is your color.’’

You are speechless. The girl she helped, is not. ‘’Thank you, Lady Baela. You’re always very kind to me.’’ She sniffs. ‘’If my face wasn’t full of snot and ruined make-up, I’d hug you.’’ 

Lady Baela smiles, yet beams at the compliment before taking the girl’s hand. After Baela has cleaned her face for her, and put on a fresh layer of much less expressive make-up, she takes the girl by her hand. ‘’I’m simply speaking my truth, lady Dyana. Come, we’ll go in together. I met the royal family before. They are actually very nice.’’

Floris snaps her head to Baela, taking in her dark blue puffy gown as she scoffs, clearly hating the seahorses that are embroidered on it. ‘’Where the hell would a girl like you met the royals before?’’ She asks, her voice clearly jealous.

Baela smiles, sweetly. ‘’Be careful, Lady Floris. Green clashes with black.’’ She walks with Dyana to the people by the doors, to let them know they are ready. You smile, faintly until you notice Floris approaching you.

She takes in your plain silver dress. ‘’You’re the nameless girl.’’ That is one way to greet you.

You shrug. ‘’What if I am?’’

Floris sighs, deeply as if you are just stupid before giving you some friendly advice meant as a threat. ‘’Just don’t bother, dear. A prince like Jace wants a girl with a house, banners, and good men to fight his wars.’’

You might suck at dancing, at court manners, public speaking, but the history and the books? That is something you excel at. You turn your head. ‘’Lady Floris. Perhaps if you spent as much time with your nose in a book as you did making others feel miserable, you would know that the last time the Seven Kingdoms had a war was hundreds of years ago. I suggest you spent more time reading, no man likes a girl that can’t keep up with him.’’ A few girls overhear and giggle among themselves, as Floris becomes a dark shade of red. You let her be, before telling the crew you are ready as well.

You are let in at the same time as Dyana. You take a moment to take in the grand chandelier, dangling from the ceiling, the polished marble tiles and the buffet tables with delicious sweets and glasses of champagne. The curtains that cover the tall windows are in a red color with dark black details, and you hear a faint orchestra play an upbeat tune as the selected are paraded to the royal family. 

You feel like you don’t belong here at all, suddenly. You and Dyana both approach the royal family. You will curtsy to every member, and when he has the time, Prince Jacaerys will formally meet his selected, making a conversation of about 3 minutes with every girl. You feel nervous, so you wonder how Lady Dyana  is feeling. She must feel even worse. She is close to crying again. You wait for her to catch your glance. She finally looks at you, a little nervous and worried.

You wink at her, causing her to giggle loudly. The royals snap their heads in her direction, but Jace’s lips curl into an approving smile, before grinning back. Dyana makes a deep, beautiful curtsy for Jacaerys. He speaks to her, smiling as well, before likely asking what she was laughing about. Dyana nods to your direction and Jace follows her gaze to you. Jace nods as if he thanks you, before taking off with Dyana.

Your hand is grabbed and you are tugged out of the line by Lady Aemma. You smell her intense parfum as you are dragged to the side. ‘’I had hoped you learned by now.’’ She sighs, almost disappointed in you. She turns her body so she can look at you.

You blink, confused. ‘’Had learned what, Lady Aemma?’’ You ask, your voice soft. ‘’Dyana seemed nervous-’’

She grabs your shoulders, breaking protocol. ‘’These girls are not your friends, Y/N. They would throw you from the towers so they can hold Jace’s hand when he takes in your corpse. Every girl is here for herself. You should be too.’’ She warns you, but you are not angry. Just upset.  Deep down, you know very well she is right. ‘’You are a sweet, genuine girl with a kind, gentle heart. It won’t lead you anywhere with this family. Take it from me. Kind girls, finish last.’’ She looks at King Viserys when speaking. ‘’If they reach the finish at all, that is.’’ You heard Floris once tell a story that Lady Aemma was a Queen once, but that Viserys degraded her because she could not deliver him a healthy child. Others say that Alicent used her dark magic on the king, breaking their relationship. So you don’t really know if there is truth to those rumors, and if so, how much truth.

‘’Come, Jacaerys is occupied, but the other members of the family must be greeted.’’ She takes you with her, walking you to the other members of the very well dressed royal family. ‘’May I present, Lady Y/N?’’ Princess Regent Rhaenyra is the first to address you.

Her dress takes your breath away, it is a dark black gown with red and golden details, but on her back are dragon wings. You drop in a low respectful curtsy before lowering your gaze. The princess smiles, approvingly before telling you to rise with a nod. ‘’My. Your dress is by far the simplest, but still the most beautiful out here. You must share your tailor with me.’’ She rambles excitedly. ‘’I love the little sparkles.’’ She seems like a sweet kind woman. You don’t understand why the media calls her cruel. ‘’And I saw what you did for your fellow selected. You have taken my interest, I don’t doubt you’ll hold Jacaerys soon as well.’’

You are brought before the king next, King Viserys. Aemma does not speak a single word, but you drop into another curtsy. The king speaks, and you worry for madness coming out. But it is far from madness. It is plain, true, as clear as a piece of well forged glass. ‘’It is a wonderful day, seeing a common girl grace the halls with the posture and decorum of a true born royal. Your kindness with the girl did not go unnoticed.’’ He speaks very kindly and you almost feel as if you are back at home again. He nods to Dyana who is now dancing with Jacaerys, in the waltz you practiced, not a care in the world. ‘’A ruler must have a kind heart, that beats for her people.’’

You are shocked and honored by his compliments. ‘’Y-your majesty, King Viserys. Your words honor me.’’ You speak, your voice touched by his kindness. 

A sharp but elegant voice cuts in, interrupting you, protocol and the reality is brought back in. ‘’May I cut in?’’ A beautiful red haired woman in a dark green gown with sharp spikes smiles at you, and you know she is Queen Alicent.

Viserys nods, smiling as you gulp silently. ‘’Of course, dear. This is her majesty, Queen Alicent Hightower.’’ You make another deep curtsy, and you can’t understand why she is called a witch or worse in the media sometimes.

Alicent smiles at Aemma. Aemma smiles back, unchallenged. You can read rivalry and hatred in both their eyes. Until Alicent speaks. ‘’Surely your flock needs help? I’ll take over for you. She only needs to meet my sons and the little princes.’’ The flock, being selected girls. You feel insulted and a little frightened when Alicent takes you with her, not giving Aemma a chance to save you. She walks you to the two young adult men, no longer in leather and jeans, but in suit and tie. They look extraordinarily handsome, for sure. But you are not here for them.

Prince Aegon sighs, muttering to his brother how bored he is. Prince Aemond does not even respond, having his hands folded on the back of his suit jacket, and his good eye is aimed at you, and you alone as a bee in trance of a blooming flower. Aegon even waves his hand in front of Aemond’s good working eye, before Aemond snaps at him, likely telling him to behave. You find it wondrous how he is the youngest, yet act as the eldest.

Alicent presents you to her sons. ‘’Aemond, Aegon…’’ She glares at the latter, warning him with that. ‘’This is Lady Y/n.’’ You dip in another curtsy, smiling at both royals who do nothing to even acknowledge your existence. 

The silence is painfully awkward as Alicent leaves. You speak, your voice soft and sincere. ‘’I am honored.’’

The eldest prince scoffs, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants. ‘’I imagine you would be.’’ You try to find your tongue, to say something sharp and witty but all that comes out is a very soft:

‘’Pardon?’’

Aegon laughs, gesturing around him. ‘’We are royalty, you are like a peasant. We are the lions, you are our gazelle.’’ You feel nauseous at that description, as if he can rip you to shreds. 

You turn your head to the other prince who remains silent. The prince follows your gaze. ‘’Don’t talk to my brother, he is not very talkative. Unless you like to talk about ancient Dornish statues, or banter on endless debates about historic battles.’’ You would much rather be getting a drink, then to be in the crossfire between those two.

Aemond hisses, clearly a bit embarrassed in his rough voice. ‘’Aegon.’’

You see an opening. And so you take it. ‘’I quite like Dornish statues. My father is the patron of art conversionship in Sunspear.’’ Aegon bristles, scoffing when sipping his drink when Aemond looks at you as if he only sees you now for the first time. He sees the real you, for the first time.  ‘’You do? You don’t…’’ He clears his throat. ‘’Find it boring?’’

Your father has been patron of persevering Dornish and other foreign cultural works, protecting it from greedy graverobbers and folks who think other people’s cultures belong in their own house. He makes sure the local museums display it, earn money from it and profit from it but most of all: That Dornish aritfacts remain in Dorne. Your dad does admirable work, some would call it boring, perhaps. But how else can you learn from history, if you don’t cherish and protect it?

Your words come blurting out, before you can stop them, quoting your father. ‘’Only a soul with little imagination would find history boring.’’ Aegon stops sipping his drink, looking at you with newfound interest. But Aemond has become absolutely silent, a smile on his pink soft lips.

You forgot yourself for a brief moment. These men are above you. ‘’I-..’’

The younger prince talks, his rough but soft voice leaving his mouth. ‘’I concur.’’ He nods, even. ‘’What is your favorite piece?’’ He brings his champagne glass to his lips before taking a sip.

You watch, before answering the question. ‘’It’s a cliche, but Nymeria’s statues, the ones that have been constructed by her family.’’ You tell him, with a dismissive little laugh.

The prince does not agree with you. ‘’Is it a cliche, or is it a classic?’’ You are dumbstruck at that comment, feeling all your wit leave your body. He smiles, reassuring that he does not find your interests stupid. And that is something no one else did before. He in fact, takes the bait and asks you things. ‘’The one’s at Sunspear or the one’s at Dornegarden? Of course, a lot of smaller statues have been build all over Dorne to honor her.’’ You are impressed by his knowledge.

You nod. Dornegarden is on your bucket list. ‘’Dornegarden’s are my favorite. The statues are so immensely huge, as if she is a goddess looking down at you.’’ You describe it the way your father described it to you.

Beyond his shyness you can see a small smile appearing, gentle as a first snowflake in november. ‘’Ah, I can see why you like her. She was clever, fierce and beautiful too.’’ You blush, unintended. 

You know it is polite to ask, but part of you is dying to know. ‘’And yours?’’ Aemond opens his mouth but sadly, the pig that is his brother interrupts, ruining this precious moment and shutting Aemond up.

Aegon grins. ‘’He has a fascination for everything depressing, doomed and disastrous.’’ You try to think of a specific name that comes to mind. Isn’t all history depressing, dooming and disastrous, in certain ways? 

‘’Oryn.’’ Aemond mumbles, quietly.

You hear it perfectly. If he were in a crowd of thousand screaming men, you would hear it just as clear. ‘’Oryn?’’ You find that an interesting intriguing choice.

Aemond nods, his silver hair going up and down.‘’Yeah.’’

‘’I like his statues.’’ You tell him. His temple was destroyed by his usurper, the king’s brother, when Oryn was cut in pieces. The foul king took Oryn’s wife as well.

The prince takes a bigger sip of his champagne, his body language suddenly tense and clearly distressed. ‘’You don’t have to lie to me. I know no one really gives a fuck about him.’’ He mutters as if he hates himself for caring as much as he does.

You step closer to the prince before speaking your truth. ‘’I’m not lying, his story is a tragedy but it doesn’t mean that the story isn’t worth telling. It has betrayal, brotherly love, devotion and romance. How can you not love it?’’ You bring out your smartphone from your handbag, showing Aemond a few photo’s your father sent on his recent travels. ‘’They found his grave recently. My dad was there when they cut the rock open.’’ Aemond’s mood changes back from sullen to excited, to impressed, yet still reserved.

‘’No way.’’ He murmurs, looking at the little screen as if it’s a diamond. ‘’Your father leads the expedition?’’ He sounds impressed, and you blush.

You know the Dornish would never. Too long, Westerosi grave robbers from the Crownlands have taken Dornish artifacts. ‘’No, the Dornish lead it themselves. Father simply is invited, because he protects the art faithfully. The Dornish have closed him in their hearts.’’ 

Aemond understands that, still his eyes are glued to your phone, taking in every detail on the dark photo. ‘’Oh, yes, of course.’’

He mutters to himself.‘’Where did they even find this?’’

You tell what your father told you. ‘’A farmer found it. Apparently his son was playing and saw a crack in a rock. They rolled the rock away, revealing a cave. Inside the cave, there was his tomb.’’ The rest of the world seems to fade when you and Aemond talk, the worries and fears of not fitting in miles away.

He grins, smiling, letting out a little chuckle. ‘’I love that. I doubt his brother knew of it. His supporters must have made it, after Oryn was slain.’’ His brother would be Prince Razar, the brother of Prince Oryn, and Princess Farya.

He is an Oryn supporter, so perhaps he likes to hear this as well. ‘’Dad says they found traces of Queen Farya. Flowers were left. They withered, but they are testing the remains. They think they already know it are Dornish daisies.’’ You tell him.

The simple grin he lets out does something to your heart. ‘’Her favorite, according to many poems out of that time.’’ 

You nod. ‘’Yes, exactly.’’

Aemond becomes a little more serious, still rambling on, happy to finally have found someone, anyone that listens. ‘’Do you think that she was even allowed to visit her brother’s grave? Or out of the palace?’’

You think deeply before speaking. You avoid his gaze. ‘’Perhaps in secret? When people are meant to be together…’’

He answers without missing a moment. ‘’They will find a way.’’ You smile at one another, both lost in each other’s eyes.

He breaks eye-contact, nodding to the phone. ‘’This is certainly amazing. Thank you for showing me this.’’

You take back your phone, putting it in the handbag. ‘’Have you ever been in Dorne, my Prince?’’ You wonder. Aemond seems to slightly blush.

He nods. ‘’Yes, many times. I go as often as my duties allow me.’’ You inwardly sigh, delighted. That must be so wonderful.

The prince then turns to look at you. ‘’And you?’’

You shrug, a little playing with your handbag.‘’It’s a heartwish of mine.’’ You confess.

Aegon makes a strange sound, startling you as if he is about to puke any moment. ‘’Give me a fucking bucket.’’ he comments, grumpily you both ignored him for so long. You feel embarrassed and mocked.

Aemond’s smile dies and he is back to hiding his emotions. ‘’Aegon, perhaps you can go get a drink?’’ He suggest, sweetly. Aegon nods, taking off. Once Aegon is gone, he turns to you. ‘’I apologize for him. We had such a lovely conversation and now its ruined.’’ You nod, but part of you is worried the conversation isn’t allowed. 

You try to give him some advice, though. ‘’Don’t be. He is your brother, but you don’t control him.’’

He seems dumbstruck by those words, staring at his empty champagne glass. ‘’Hm. I’ve been apologizing for his behavior before I was old enough to walk.’’ He mutters.

You smile, faking a bit of a stern glare causing him to chuckle. ‘’Well, maybe you should stop apologizing.’’ You mean it. He is not responsible for Aegon.

The prince nods, as if you have given him a lot to think about. ‘’Maybe I should.’’

You notice the Prince, Jacaerys has joined you, listening in with his hands folded on his back. You notice the seahorse pin on his chest.‘’Ahum.’’

You dip in a curtsy. ‘’Your highness.’’

Jacaerys ignores you, staring at prince Aemond. ‘’Uncle.’’

‘’Nephew.’’

You notice another rivalry, unfolding right before your eyes. You wish to leave, right now.

Jacaerys speaks, his voice taunting but soft. ‘’Thank you for keeping Lady Y/n occupied when I spoke to the other ladies. It is her turn now, however.’’ Aemond lifts his chin as if he wants to speak, but changes his mind.

‘’Of course.’’ And with that, he lets you go. You turn on your heel, walking back to Aemond. ‘’It is always nice to talk with someone about history.’’ You thank him with that and smile. He doesn't smile. He does not even glance at you, anymore.

All you get is a vague, disinterested ‘’Hm.’’

The prince takes you with him, walking to the buffet before offering you a glass of champagne. ‘’Did he hurt you?’’

He casually asks between filling the glasses. 

You are confused. ‘’Who?’’

He shrugs, as if it's obvious. ‘’Aemond?’’

You become even more confused. ‘’No?’’

Jace leans in a little closer. ‘’You must know, it is inappropriate for any selected to have another lover. It can lead to disqualification or worse, punishment.’’ He warns you, kindly of that. You know he does not mean to harm or threaten you.

You nod, thankful but you do want to clear things up.‘’I didn’t know that. But Prince Aemond and me only talked about Dornish statues.’’ Not very romantic, so why does your heart beat so fast?

Jacaerys scoff. ‘’Statues?’’ You can see that Aemond is likely the only history buff in his family. That must be lonely.

You smile, telling him the same thing you told Aemond. ‘’Yes, in Sunspear-’’

But this time, you get a deep sigh before Jace even rolls his eyes. ‘’Don’t you want to talk about something more exciting?’’ He suggests. 

You feel as if you have been hit in the face. You feel rejected and foolish. ‘’Like what?’’

He shrugs. ‘’Most girls tell me of their house, or their horses.’’ Their horses? You hear yourself think, and its not a pleasant thought. How…dull? And all of them? You bet that Floris told them to bring it up.

You repeat after him. ‘’Horses?’’

‘’You don’t like horses?’’ He asks. Horses terrify you.

‘’I don’t dislike them.’’ You say and it's the truth. Horses are beautiful from a distance. You just don't want to ride them. Or talk about them. ‘’I don’t like talking about horses. I don’t want to have dull meaningless conversation with you.’’

Jace straightens his back. ‘’That is part of your job, should you become my queen.’’ You feel your lips hang in a sorrowful line and for the first time you wonder if this is what you really want.

Jace notices your mood change quickly. ‘’But it's alright. We can talk about something else too. What is your favorite sweet?’’

You nod, accepting his attempts at winning your heart.  ‘’I like cupcakes.’’ Jacaerys takes a chocolate cupcake for you from the impressive cake stand, looking at it very briefly, inspecting it before handing it to you. ‘’These are my favorites. I have yet to taste anything else that taste as good as these.’’ That sounds promising. You clumsily bite the cupcake off, tasting the surprisingly good white chocolate filling. It tastes as good as he said it would, and your argument from earlier vanishes as snow that is basked in sunrays. ‘’It is really good.’’ You say, licking your fingers off when you think no one is watching. Jacaerys is amused by your actions, before slyly doing the same. 

Jacaerys seems a bit nervous, before he sighs after you both have finished your cupcakes. ‘’I’m sorry for being a little mean about Aemond earlier. I’ve been hearing disturbing news about him and his brother. I don’t see you girls as my cattle or my livestock, but I do feel responsible. You are here under my roof, for me. You put up with etiquette and court rules for me, the very least I can do, is protect you from men that want to harm you.’’ You notice your gaze swift between Jace and Aemond, who is now talking with an unknown silver-haired woman in a luscious green gown. That must be Helaena.

You feel foolish you even entertained the prince that long, or talked with them. ‘’Do you think Aemond is that malicious?’’You wonder.

Jace does not need long to answer that question. ‘’I know he is. They both are. If you are important to me, he wants to destroy you.’’ You find that a little extreme but Jace’s stern glare tells you there is nothing funny about this. ‘’Just be careful, Y/N. That’s all I ask.’’ And you nod, obedient as a good girl would. But your gaze kept stealing peaks at the forbidden prince, however.

This is part one, for now.

I hope you all liked it

Its different than what i usually write.

Reblogs/comments are welcome!:))

[farfromstrange]

New Year's Day | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You recount your history with Matt and the highs and the lows of your relationship.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptive writing & lack of dialogue, mentions of blood, but this is mostly very tame

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This One-Shot is dedicated to my bestie, @blackshadowswriter. I'm a bit late, and I'm sorry for that. It took me a bit to finish. I just want to tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I also know you love Taylor, so I thought "why not write a fic and use as many song references as possible? She's going to LOVE that!" You're my favorite person in the world and you deserve this. I love you. I'm all out of words because I'm anxious as hell about showing you this. It took me two days to finish. I wanted it to be as good as I could make it. I'm still not 100% sure, but I never am when it comes to giving gifts. I hope you like it <3 (This is also why I'm not tagging anyone else because this is a gift for my best friend and I intended it as such)

From the moment you bumped into him on the corner street of your favorite café, you knew that he was the kind of chance that would only come around once in a lifetime.

It wasn’t like you, at least not back then, to buy a stranger a coffee. And it was even less like you to give him your number afterward.

You had never been big on dating at that point in your life. You used to take things exactly the way they came to you, and dating never really seemed to fit into that narrative.

You preferred to lose yourself in your own world, a world where no one could touch or hurt you the way you’ve been hurt so many times in the past by people who claimed to care about you—people who claimed to love you, and in the process, you lost sight of the fact that there are still a handful of good people out there.

No one can blame you for thinking like that though. Your heart has been broken one too many times, and not just by broken relationships. 

Deep down, you craved to find someone capable of understanding all of you, not just the pretty parts. You almost felt pathetic for pretending you didn’t need it and still thinking that way.

But deep down, you craved to find someone who wouldn’t be afraid of sticking around, someone who would never leave you because life tends to get hard.

It seemed nearly impossible to find a person like that without breaking your own heart, so you decided to retreat into your shell. Better to keep your heart safe and protected than put yourself out there and be broken all over again, right?

Those stupid love songs on the radio and the endless romantic stories of your friends’ dating lives, however, fueled your need for the same kind of connection only a few songwriters know how to put into words.

You wanted to fall in love, find the right person, and heal. You wanted to figure out why love wasn’t like the burning red of sex and passion but golden, like daylight. A love living for. A love fighting for.

You felt so stupid, secretly pining for an innocent childhood dream that eventually got crushed after years of heartbreak, but that is what happens when someone becomes chronically lonely. You turned to daydreaming because at least in your head, your life could be perfect. Not just good, not just livable, but filled with love and happiness.

Truth be told, when you’re your own worst enemy and have an inner saboteur set out to destroy everything that could be remotely good for you because you truly believe you don’t deserve it, it’s hard to allow yourself to be open. So perhaps that is why you chose to lock yourself away and live in delusion instead. Not facing reality became standard procedure in your way of life.

You tried blaming it on your past, your broken relationships, and disappointments, and while that played a big part in your trauma, you also slowly started to realize that you might have been hurting yourself so you wouldn’t have to open up ever again.

In an attempt to erase all the problems, you became the problem. You became your worst enemy, someone chasing ghosts that stayed long in the past and only came back to haunt the living shit out of you. But that’s a survivable condition. 

You tried therapy, you tried turning your life around and starting anew, and while that helped you find a job you love, find a nice group of friends, and make peace with what’s been broken, nothing else seemed to change. 

You had barely started putting yourself back together again when you bumped into him. You were late for a meeting, so your focus was on your phone instead of the street before you.

It was your fault. He was just trying to make his way over the sidewalk, his cane tapping in a steady rhythm to make his way forward, and you stepped right in the middle of it. 

You remember him grabbing your arm, catching you before you could fall. He wasn’t even irritated. When you looked up in shame, seeing the red glasses and the came, you begged for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?”

But before you could go on a rant about your stupidity, he cut you off, and in the silkiest voice possible, he said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Are you?” 

“What?”

“Are you okay? You seem in a bit of a rush. Don’t want you to accidentally bump into a car next.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. Blood rushed to his cheeks. “That was a bad joke, sorry.”

You just about melted. “It’s okay,” you found yourself chuckling. “And so am I. I was too focused on my phone. That was my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It happens,” he said. He was so calm about it, unlike other New Yorkers you’ve met before.

Maybe the fact that you found him extraordinarily attractive and easy to be around compelled you to ask if you could buy him a cup of coffee to make up for bumping into him, completely abandoning your plans to make it to your work meeting five minutes late.

He introduced himself as Matthew. A lawyer. Not one of those rich defense attorneys who simply do it for the money. No, he does it to help people, and you fell for him right then and there. 

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe it was just dumb luck, but that day, when you got home after work, his number in your phone and a stupidly giddy smile on your flushed face, you knew that you’d somehow been enchanted to meet him. 

You never believed in love at first sight until you bumped into Matt Murdock, but the second you did, your life flipped upside down and changed in ways you could have never predicted. 

It is possible that the song playing over the speakers in the café right before you bumped him played a part in how you perceived the interaction. You’ve never been one to believe in coincidences. Nothing is ever accidental, and neither was your meeting. It couldn’t have been. 

You found each other when you needed someone, anyone, both of you, and it stuck. Thankfully, it did. 

Summer that year was cruel with New York drowning in an excruciating heatwave. You’d been meeting up with Matt for a couple of weeks, but you didn’t have it in you to put a label on whatever delicate thing was starting to build between the two of you. You didn’t want to wrap your hand around it and accidentally shatter something you could see growing into something more in the future. 

He was unlike anyone you’d met before, and he treated you in a way that made you believe, finally, that you are worthy of love. Not just giving but receiving because Matt himself struggled to see his worth after years of being disappointed and being there for everyone but himself. 

Love is a fragile thing though, and you have never been quite good with fragile things.

After a night of drinking away your sorrows at a nearby bar, you made your way to his apartment. You took a cab, too wasted to find your way there by yourself. You remember that you were crying; you were miserable and loathing yourself for several reasons that didn’t even make sense to you then.

When you arrived there, you knocked on his door. You didn’t get an answer. Just as you started to turn around and make your way back outside, you could hear a thud from the other side of the door. Panic settled in. You didn’t even hesitate before you opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and made your way into the dark interior of his apartment. 

Finding your blind, catholic not-boyfriend in a pool of his own blood, wearing a leather-clad suit with the horns of the devil had not been on your to-do list until that night. Reality hit you just as fast and knocked sobriety back into your senses as the adrenaline started to take over. 

He let out a grunt. Your name passed his lips. He sounded so weak, so fragile, and you just stood there, your heart pumping too much blood for your body to handle. 

“What the fuck?!” you said. You didn’t yell, you didn’t snap, you simply didn’t know how to process this information. 

You were well aware of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen parading outside at night, beating up criminals and giving them a good fright—Matt did not fit the picture you had of the guy until you saw him lying there, obviously injured. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said hoarsely. He tried to roll over, but the pain turned out to be too severe. 

Needless to say, he passed out on you without a proper explanation, and you somehow had to use what little you could remember from first-aid to help this bleeding mess of a man. You feared that you would lose him that night, and that was when you realized that, on top of falling for him, you didn’t care who he was, you only needed him to live.

When he woke up to you hovering over him, he groaned. “I’m sorry,” was all he said. “I’d understand if–”

“Don’t talk,” you cut him off with a finger on his lips. You wouldn’t let him push you away. Not after everything you’d been through.

He tried to sit up. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s not exactly something you lead with on a first date. I get it. What I don’t get…”

“I didn’t lie,” it was his turn to cut you off. You remember looking up at him, and you heard him out. You had to. In your mind, there is an explanation for everything, and you were once again proven right at that moment.

He bared his life story to you, how he survived through tragedies no human should ever have to face. How he turned blind, how his senses heightened, and how he lost the one person he could always count on. When his father died, something changed in Matt. He tried to go straight, to do his father proud, but he couldn’t ignore this desperate need for justice forever. He felt cursed. So, he became someone who could make a difference, and not just as a lawyer.

He expected you to walk out, but you didn’t. You saw him for who he was, and you accepted him.

“I think I’m falling for you, and it scares the hell out of me,” you blurted out that night.

He stared at you, his unfocused eyes bewildered, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to find an answer.

Just when you thought he would break your heart after putting your trust in him, he let out a shaky sigh and he kissed you.

He wasn’t ready to say it back just yet, but he spoke to you through actions that made you feel confident in what you were growing again.

You somehow already knew back then that Matt Murdock would be the man you one day would marry and spend the rest of your life with. 

The truth is, you two have been through a lot throughout your relationship. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t worth it. 

From the moment you met him to the countless dates, sharing coffees over empty takeout containers, kissing in the rain, Daredevil, fighting over the beautiful women in his life that almost broke you, and fighting over his desperate need to push those away who only want what is good for him because he is own worst saboteur.

It all led you down a journey that turned out to be harder than expected and not at all the love story you envisioned, but it still turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to you. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you. 

You used to run away from happiness out of fear of getting hurt, and Matt did the same. He feared to admit it, but then he met you and he finally realized that running was of no use because you were more than ready to stick around through everything. Through every disaster and heartache—through every broken bone, you stuck around.

You saw something in him from the moment you met that no one can ever take away. You got a taste of heaven from the devil himself, and even though he was darker than the sunshine you wished for in your life, you managed to find a way to bring some light into his life. 

You are sunshine, even on your worst days, and he’s midnight rain. But you love the rain. You love him. 

Your first kiss happened in the rain. He took your hand and asked you to dance, and you did. You danced to the sound of the raindrops pattering against the asphalt beneath your feet, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—Matt engulfed in the soft moonlight, his hand in yours, and a big smile on his irresistible lips. 

You want more of those nights. Even the nights you’ve had to patch him up or hold him as he broke down from all the weight he often enough carries on his shoulders, you want more of those. You want all of them.

You want him and all the strings attached to him, no matter how painful because ever since he can remember, people have walked out on Matt and hurt him in ways you can only fathom. You don’t want to be that person. 

He opened up to you. He decided to be vulnerable. He stood with you through everything and fought for you when you thought you two wouldn’t last.

He gave you his best smile and his tears, and he laughed with you every night that you waited up for him to come home safely. He quickly became the moonlight to your sun—it is a different kind of light, but it is a light that sustains you nonetheless. 

You want all of his laughter and never miss it again. You want his smiles. You want his tears. You want to spend every waking second with him. You want to miss him and welcome him back home after an agonizingly long night of worrying. You want to cheer him up in court and be his lucky charm. You want to wear his initial on a chain around your neck, in Braille, because he got it for you on your birthday. 

“I know I don’t own you,” he said to you, “but I love you. And I know you. I want you to carry me close to your heart the same way I’ll always carry you close to mine.”

And his, you are. You’re no one else’s but his, and even if that sounds a bit territorial, you don’t care. You want all of it and more because it’s Matt you’re talking about, no one else. Not a stranger but the man you love so desperately it hurts sometimes.

All the girls he loved before don’t matter because he’s got you now. You forgave him more times than he probably deserved. You held on when he barely had any strength left. In return, he has shown the same kind of devotion to you time and time again. How can you ever say no to any of that when you are so in love? 

All those memories replay in sudden flashing sequences right in front of your inner eye. You love him more than anyone has ever loved him. You pulled him out of a very dark hole. You saved his life. And he saved yours. 

As he’s kneeling in front of you now, your hand in his and clutching the small, velvety box in his other, your life passes by before your eyes. Your life alone and your life together. You recount every memory in a millisecond, too shocked to even comprehend what is happening. But it is happening. 

Matt Murdock is kneeling on the floor before you, the glitter, confetti, and sticky champagne someone spilled earlier most likely leaving a stain on his good dress pants, but he remains unwavering in his decision to open that little box and show you what he’s been hiding for a while. 

It’s a diamond ring, something he probably took months to save up for. It’s small yet elegant, and it’s staring right at you. He’s taken his glasses off to try and do the same. You would marry him with paper rings, that much is true. 

Matt says your name oh-so-softly. “Will you marry me?” Four words that stop your heart and restart it at the same time. 

He sees right through you. You see right through him. Even in your worst times, you were there for each other, and now he’s asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Together. To give him all of your days and nights and he will give you all of his in return. He is asking you the question you’ve been wondering if he would ever ask it, and he did. 

The fireworks go off in the distance, in your stomach, everywhere. The new year has rounded the corner. People are cheering and celebrating around you, but you don’t pay attention to them. 

The clock strikes midnight and with the softest smile, you say, “Yes.” You don’t need to tell him that you would do it a million times over because he knows. He knows your heartbeat, and he knows that you would never lie to him. 

He doesn’t waste time to pull you into his arms and kiss you softly, passionately, as if both of your lives depend on it. 

It’s a bit cliché, to get proposed to on New Year’s Eve. To start the new year with the man you love and a ring on your finger. But that only means that you will still be together on New Year’s Day, and all the days after that. 

Matt chose you. You chose Matt. You chose a life together that is as unpredictable as they come, but at least you have each other to hold onto. 

And he will never be just the stranger that you bumped into in front of your favorite corner café ever again. You have him now. Maybe that was your plan all along. Maybe you are the mastermind he knows that you are. None of it was accidental. 

And now, Matt Murdock is yours. Forever and always. 

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Okay, either the scientist knew she was preggo or they just thought she was going through hormonal changes or whatever, there is NO WAY CROWLEY DOESNT KNOW THE HUMAN IS PREGGO.

Also, how much should I bet that Cater is just going to keep the whole world updated with every single DETAIL.

Oh, Lilia is going to have a FIELD DAY WHEN THE BABY IS BORN, same for Trein, he’s probably going to love it.

Referring to this fic snippet here:

Okay, to be fair, I forgot to mention that the events take place shortly after Yuu's arrival. Probably between chapter 2 and 3 given the timeline we have, which puts it at about...two, three weeks after the prologue and shortly after Riddle and Leona overblot.

As for the scientists/researchers, while logically speaking they would immediately jump at the chance to come to the island to start their studies, they first had to make sure these pictures circulating on Cater’s Magicam posts were legit first. Once it is established through a video or two that was posted, that's when they reach out to Crowley to make the arrangements!

And they actually arrive a week after the pregnancy announcement, so you can bet that they are very eager to get some studying done as quick as possible! 😂

As for the staff not realizing that fem!Yuu is pregnant, they are aware of what a pregnant monster's scent is like for sure. But because there hadn't been a human in centuries, even if Crowley was old enough to have been around humans, it's not like he remembers the scent off the top of his head! The staff would all essentially be like those confused cats and dogs trying to figure out what this strange bump is and why their human smells funny before instinctively feeling protective.

Can you just imagine Crowley building a nest for Yuu without realizing just *why* he was doing it in the first place? Or the blank stare he'd give the moment someone asked him like, "...why am I doing this??" and it only becomes clear shortly after the announcement, in which he tries to pretend he knew all along 😂

I'm also reminded of this one post where OP's cat had had multiple litters in the past and was so excited when OP got pregnant that the kitty kept trying to show her to the nest she made for OP's "kitten", and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever read 🥹

Anyway, you can bet your bottom madol that Cater will absolutely be keeping EVERYONE updated on Magicam throughout the whole process, and he is getting flooded with baby picture requests 🤣 It's also sweet how mothers come across the posts and try to offer advice that they'd learned on raising their kids, which is nice, though not all of the advice would really be practical based on species 😅 But at least they're sweet enough to offer that and words of encouragement! I can even see some inviting Yuu to a mother's support group meeting ;;v;;

You can also bet that Yuu will be receiving a lot of baby shower gifts and such from Cater’s followers. At least they don't have to worry about needing to buy diapers for a while! 🤣

Ooooooh yes, Lilia is going to be ecstatic to be able to hold and care for a baby again! He will offer to help watch over the little one (hadn't decided on a gender or name yet for the new baby) so Yuu can take a break, though don't worry about him trying to feed the baby his cooking. He learned and knows that milk is important for the baby, so he makes sure to have the bottles readily available even at Diasomnia~ (though Silver and the others make sure to keep an eye on him when it comes to feeding time just to be on the safe side)

Trein has already raised two daughters, and while he may not be interested in raising another, that's not to say he won't wind up spoiling the little human baby like any grandparent would! He'll also offer a shoulder for fem!Yuu to lean on and reassure her that she's doing a great job as a mother ;;v;;

[eleasis20]

Who knew about Astarion's Vampirism?

so something that's come up a lot on fics is whether or not the companions knew that Astarion was a vampire before he reveals it.

I wanted to see if there was a more concrete answer in the game itself, so I've gone perusing some videos to find the answer.

there's multiple ways to reveal Astarion's vampirism,

Tav/non-Astarion-origin bite scene

origin!Astarion bite scene

origin!Astarion biting someone in combat

origin!Astarion reveals himself willingly

Gandrel outs Astarion unwittingly

as well as probably a few others I haven't seen.

several of these share lines of dialogue, and if anyone's curious or wants to cross check, here are some videos for

astarion bites in combat | post-biting tav | origin!astarion reveals himself | origin!astarion bites companions | gandrel outs astarion

for my own peace of mind, i made a chart to show who knew and who didn't in each scenario:

clearly, there isn't a straight forward answer to most of these, as responses vary depending on the situation. I'll go into more detail under the cut

Quick run down of the simple ones:

Post-biting Tav scene

No one has any particularly revealing dialogue, more focussed on how they feel about a Vampire joining them. Since your Tav (or an origin character) is the leader, and was Astarion's target, they all follow their lead on Astarion.

origin!Astarion bite scene

Again, no revealing dialogue here, more focussed on the whole "how dare you" aspect of being assaulted in the middle of the night.

Gandrel outs Astarion

They all seem to suggest they either knew or suspected something already. This doesn't exactly match some of the other scenes, but it's likely that they're either refferring to having overheard Gandrel, or are trying to look confident/all knowing.

Onto individuals:

Gale and Karlach are very consistent in that they both suspected Astarion but weren't 100% sure Vampirism was the curse he was hiding.

They're also probably the nicest about Astarion being a Vampire:

Karlach will act annoyed at first but if Astarion is honest she switches to reassuring him that she'll protect him.

Gale will be upset that Astarion wasn't honest with him earlier, but is pretty quick to let it go and has no other issues.

Shadowheart is fairly consistent. She doesn't know and is surprised, but quickly lists off all the clues that she thinks she should've noticed.

The only instance where she says she was aware is when Gandrel revealed Astarion - but everyone says that for Gandrel & I think she's just revealing that she overheard that.

She's not all that nice about it, at least at first. She's mostly upset that she didn't notice, and that she's stuck with a bunch of weirdos instead of normal people. She is sympathetic to Astarion having to hide his Vampirism, and likens it to her faith (or implies it bc she can say this prior to her Shar reveal).

Lae'zel and Wyll are inconsistent. If Astarion tells them himself that he's a vampire, they will be a bit smug and say they've known all along. But if they see Astarion bite something in combat, they will be surprised, Wyll even sounds scared for a second.

They both also say they knew if Gandrel outs Astarion, but everyone says they knew for that scenario, so it's likely they were referring to overhearing that conversation. For that reason, I'm not tallying the yea's and nay's since it's highly circumstantial.

I think there's two likely (in-world) reasonings:

Origin!Astarion is meant to reveal himself much later in time, so Wyll and Lae'zel have more time to see the signs.

Wyll and Lae'zel are embaressed that they didn't notice earlier (as a monster-hunter, and a citizen of an undead lich, they should have noticed), and so when confronted calmly they're quick to cover for themselves and pretend they've always known.

Either way, they're the two with the worst reactions to Astarion:

Lae'zel threatens to kill Astarion if he ever tries to bite her.

Wyll forms a "pact" with Astarion to not bite any of the companions, lest he stake him.

as for the other companions..

Minsc has an in-game reaction to discovering Astarion is a vampire. Which basically has him say he generally doesn't trust vampires (he has every right tbh, since in bg2 one of the antagonists loosely involved with Dynaheir's (his wychlaren) death is a vampire (Bodhi).

But he, like the rest of the group on a Tav run, goes along with Tav's trust of Astarion.

to my knowledge, Jaheira doesn't have a reaction to Astarion's vampirism. Though there are several idle banters she will have with him about it in act 3, so she's definitely aware of it.

It's possible she knew on sight what he was, especially since one of her banters with him describes her killing a vampire spawn and leaving it's body in the street to burn. Beyond that, she also has history with the vampire Bodhi in bg2, who was in league with the man responsible for killing her husband Khalid.

She doesn't seem hostile towards him. She teases him, but she has trouble expressing affection in any way other than teasing, so I'd say the teasing is affection.

Halsin also has no reaction to Astarion's vampirism, and no banter about it with Astarion (outside of being concerned that Ascended Astarion is bad for his partner).

Given that he's generally positive towards Astarion, and is totally fine being in a poly ship with Astarion or as a partner to origin!Astarion, you kinda have to assume there's no issue.

Basically the only canon info we have for this so far is that Halsin knows (mechanically speaking, I guess he knows from the moment he becomes a part of the party). And that he's chill about it since he has no issue with pursuing Astarion.

TL;DR

Gale & Karlach 100% suspected Astarion of being a Vamp

Shadowheart didn't suspect anything

Lae'zel & Wyll may or may not have

Minsc has to be told by Boo

Jaheira probably figured it out early on

Halsin probably figured it out or was told early on

[spiralizera]

Mistranslations

Pair: Namjoon/reader (English/anglophone)

Summary: You get into a fight with Yoongi over speaking English and not Korean.

Tags: Hurt/comfort; angst; protective Namjoon; angry Namjoon; soft so soft Namjoon; besties Namjoon and Yoongi

Warnings: xenophobia, mentions of racism [writer is white take that as you will], severe panic attacks, depression, non verbal coping mechanisms, use of the word ‘waegukin’ [I know it’s not a racial slur in the same way we understand racial slurs in the west, I mention that in the fic], chats about eurocentrism and colonialism [lol]

Notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, v spontaneous, possibly due to sun exposure, it’s like 29C rn, inspired by the gorgeous work of @dreamescapeswriting

You were waiting in the dressing room for the boys to finish their set. You’d been working in Gwanju and Namjoon had insisted that you come see him in Busan. The crowd had been insane and quite quickly you’d retreated backstage, overwhelmed. The English translator, now almost permanently on staff for unexpected interviews or even just preliminary prep on translation before content was churned out for online consumption, came and sat with you. She’d been working on her cultural knowledge of English recently and you quite quickly descended into a deep conversation about the politics of Eurovision. You were happy to help, she’d been a saint over these last few months, helping you with Korean.

Just as you were explaining the running joke that is the U.K. and the ‘nil point’ streak, Yoongi and Jungkook burst into the room on a performance high. Jungkook was giggly and jokingly collapsed into your back while Yoongi grabbed some water. They were mid conversation, their breath labouring, rushed and hard to hear. JK turned around and asked you something and since you were just talking to Seo in English, your brain couldn’t quite register what Jungkook was asking. He asked again, gesturing his hands towards the table, too tired to form full sentences. You turned to where he gestured and before you could fully kick your brain back into Korean and ask him to repeat it again, Yoongi scoffed something under his breath.

You paused, unsure if you’d misheard.

‘Sorry?’ You turned to Yoongi, asking in Korean as your brain played catch up with the chaos slowly pouring in from the stage.

Yoongi ignored you and started speaking to Jungkook. Jungkook laughed and pushed lightly off you, grabbing a bottle of water. You were close with the guys, it was easy. They had such a close and intense bond, it was impossible to be intimate with one without becoming close with the others. The only one who’d always remained at a distance from you was Yoongi. He sometimes pretended to exchange pleasantries, but largely kept himself a distance from you. He never spoke in English to you, he never tried to include you. You knew he spoke far better English than most of the boys, except for Namjoon of course. But he only spoke Korean around you. ‘Around’ was the correct word, never at you or with you, just around you, like you were an unfortunately placed pillar obstructing conversation. You largely ignored him, ignored the sick feeling in your stomach whenever he was in the room. It was natural to not click with everybody. Healthy in fact. These were Namjoon’s friends, not yours after all.

You heard the word again. You’d definitely not misheard this time.

‘Hey,’ you stood up, walking over to Yoongi. The boys turned around, jungkook slightly startled by the raise in your voice. ‘What did you call me?’

Yoongi looked at you deadpan. You were the same height and his eyes bore unflinchingly into yours. ‘I said,’ his English was slow like he was speaking to a child, ‘fucking waegukin.’

You stepped back, slightly stunned. It wasn’t a bad word, you knew that, it was a fact, you knew that. People referred to you as one all the time, it was fine, it was-

‘Everywhere we go it’s ‘speak English this’, ‘speak English that’, why don’t you fucking speak Korean? Why do we have to always accommodate you monolingual fucks? The level of entitlement, you come here expecting everything to be handed to you on a fucking plate. We just gave everything out there, Namjoon killed it and you’re in here demanding everyone speak to you in English, wasting the time of our translator, and not even come out and watch us. Namjoon gives you everything, what do you give him? That’s all westerners do, they take and take and demand we meet their standards, demand we make them comfortable. Would you even like Namjoon if he wasn’t an idol? Would you even like him if he couldn’t speak English? He gives so much of himself, so much energy translating and managing interviews and making sure we come across the right way to you westerners. Now he has to come home to you and your English face and your English language. Give him a fucking break. What can you give him, fucking waegukin?’

Yoongi had been getting closer and closer to you, Jungkook had tried grab his shoulder, to interrupt him but he’d shrugged him off. He’d seen red and couldn’t stop. You were just as stunned. You’d almost zoned out after a minute, watching the scene from another corner, alongside the stunned crew. In theory you knew that Yoongi was tired, that this was about something else, something bigger than you. He was right you hadn’t seen the majority of the concert, maybe something had happened onstage. There’d be a simple explanation, you knew that. You knew that. But your heart was in your throat, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. Every insecurity, every worry that had been simmering underneath your skin since you started dating Joon, that Joon had always dismissed and told you not to worry about, was now echoing about the room in one awful silence.

It felt like an eternity had passed.

‘Y/N-‘ Jungkook broke the spell, but you were faster. You didn’t even grab your things, you just needed to leave as quickly as humanly possible. You ran out the room, heading towards the cars, asking the nearest taxi to please drive, before you could see the way Yoongi’s eyes slowly cleared, the realisation that he’d truly fucked up dawning on his face.

——————————————-———————-

14 missed calls. 8 from Joon. 4 from Jungkook. 2 from Seo. You didn’t dare look at the messages that had been solidly lighting up your phone for the past hour. You just needed to get out. You needed to get out right now. You were shoving clothes into your suitcase. You’d catch a train to Gwanju, or maybe a plane would be easier, would there be any planes this late at night? Maybe the train then, or a hire car, but you weren’t really in any state to drive- Maybe you should just cut out the middle man and go straight to Seoul. You had friends there, friends from home who’d grown up split between Korea and Europe. But you didn’t want to worry then. You didn’t want them to know that this kind of relationship couldn’t work. That you were repeating the same mistakes that their parents had made, that maybe the cultural gap was too big. You didn’t want to cause them pain, you were causing everyone so much-

There was a knock at the door. You froze. Shit. You briefly debated scaling the fire escape, but thankfully dropped that idea. Maybe if you just stayed quiet, whoever it was, would go away. Maybe they’d leave you alone. Maybe you’d still be able to escape. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. You needed to leave right now. Right fucking now.

‘Y/N please,’ it was Namjoon. ‘Please open the door. It’s just me. Please I need to know that you’re ok.’

You softened slightly, your body couldn’t help but respond to his voice. But then your brain kicked into gear again. English, he was speaking in English. He was accommodating you, yet again, he had just finished a concert and he was probably exhausted and he had to deal with you, Yoongi’s words bouncing around your head. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t-

You heard some soft swearing behind the door. ‘Ok I’m coming in Y/N,’ Namjoon slowly entered the room. He had an idea about what had happened, he’d seen you react like this before, he was just glad you were still at the hotel. He walked slowly towards you, arms outstretched like he was approaching a stray. He’d made sure to get rid of every single bit of his anger before coming to find you. He’d ripped into Yoongi and Yoongi had taken it, stood there limply and said nothing. Still high from the stage, he would’ve punched him if it hadn’t been for Jin and Jungkook holding him back. He’d forced himself to calm down before going to find you, he knew he it couldn’t come near you in this state.

He’d phoned the hotel to check you were there before sending Hobi ahead with explicit instructions to not to knock but just make sure that your hotel room light was still on and let him know if you left.

‘It’s ok baby,’ he almost whispered. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ he softly repeated until he was close enough to envelop you in a hug. You initially resisted before allowing yourself to break down and cry. Namjoon held the back of your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head as he continued to repeat the mantra. Your legs started to go and he swiftly carried you to the bed. He didn’t let you go. He wouldn’t let you go. He controlled his own breathing, holding down the anger that bubbled just below his skin. He took your shaking hand and kissed each finger tip with such care and love before placing it flat against his chest You focussed on his heart, it’s even beats, strong and steady. You matched it’s rhythm with your fingers and eventually your breath followed.

‘It’s ok. You’re ok. I love you. I love you so much,’ Namjoon whispered sweet nothings into your hair and you focussed more on the feeling of his lips than his actual words. Eventually your eyes became heavy and you thankfully slipped away from this awful evening.

Morning came and Namjoon was still holding you. He was reluctant to let you go. Your head was heavy and you felt like were moving underwater. This was often the way after a bad night. You’d finally learnt to recognise the signs, learnt to treat them as something external, symptoms, side affects, not personal failings, character flaws.

Namjoon had learnt too. Just as you had so quickly become attuned to his bad days, the days he couldn’t leave the bed, the days he communicated solely through text messages and grunts, the days he was tired of fronting, tired of masking. It’d been hard, so hard. But you’d eventually let him in too. Let him take care of you. Stopped being so vigilant to everyone else’s needs and let him catch you.

You both stayed in bed for a long time, waking up slowly before letting yourselves fall back asleep again. Joon ordered room service and made you tea, forcing you to drink something and nibble on toast. Wordlessly and easily you moved in time with the other, understanding each others signals. Only the occasional ‘come on’, ‘jagi’, or ‘baby,’ from Namjoon as he coached you into returning back to your body. He’d put the phones somewhere you both couldn’t see them, and while you read, he went and drew you a bath.

The sound of the crowds, thickly ringing the hotel, continued to echo into the afternoon. Ideally Namjoon had wanted to take you somewhere outside, go for a walk to a park or a convenience store, something easy and familiar. But that simply wasn’t possible.

‘Jagiya,’ he called softly to you, still lying in bed, reading your book and tracing the late afternoon sun spots. ‘I’m taking you home tomorrow, is that ok?’

You nodded softly, allowing Namjoon to drag you across the bed into his arms. You felt numb. You felt tired.

——————————————————————

‘Absolutely not.’

Namjoon was trying to find his current reading book before heading to the studio. He’d reluctantly returned to work a couple days after you’d both come back to Seoul. You’d insisted, insisted that you were ok now. Maybe he’d jumped the gun.

‘You are not going anywhere near him, especially not alone.’ He came and stood in the doorway of your study, like he could physically stop you from leaving.

‘Jin is leaving in a couple of days, I’m not going to be the cause of any tension or awkwardness that’ll ruin his send off. You guys need each other more than ever now.’

You get up, matching his stance.

‘You haven’t done anything,’ he punctuated the ‘you’. ‘If anyone’s ruined anything it’s him. He crossed the fucking line.’

You sigh. Your fingers graze his arms, you can feel the anger vibrating just under there. He pretends it’s not there, he pretends you don’t know. He thinks he’s protecting you. You don’t say anything, just gently need the tension from his arms.

His hands eventually fall to your hips before travelling up your back and neck. He leans down and kisses you, your face between his hands like an offering. Its not horny. Its gentle. It’s protective. It’s like you’re the most precious thing in the word. ‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’ He whispers, refusing to even let your eyes slip from his grasp.

‘I know’, you whisper back. ‘I know Joonie. you’re good jooni, so good.’

——————————————————————

Yoongi hadn’t attempted to reach out to you since the night of the concert. Not that he would usually text you, it’d be more disturbing if he had.

As soon as Joon had left for the studio, you texted Jungkook to let him know phase 1 was complete. Jungkook’s job was to keep Joon distracted just long enough to execute phase 2. Before you could think about it too much, you picked up your phone and dialled.

‘Meet me at the convenience store in Dosan. I want to talk.’

——————————————————————

Mid afternoon the streets were almost deserted in Gangnam. Everyone was working or at least trying to avoid the mid afternoon heat. You sat at a plastic picnic table, your back against the shop’s glass windows and your feet up on the bench. You sipped on your coffee - hot drinks in hot weather, you’d learnt that working service - and watched the fruit cellar obnoxiously ring his bell, hopping from one dappled island of shade to another. If the coward didn’t show then at least you’d had a pleasant afternoon.

Two bottles of beer were carefully placed on the table, the clink of glass bringing you back to reality. ‘I thought you might like something stronger than coffee.’

Yoongi’s face was almost completely covered - the classic idol combo of bucket hat, sunnies and face mask - but he still radiated sheepishness.

You say nothing, and watch him eventually open the bottle and pour you a glass. It was unnecessarily formal for a convenience store. But you thought, let him play host. Let him show the foreigner good korean table etiquette.

You take a swig and return to watching the fruit seller. He has some customers now. It’s quite busy. They’ll need to form a line.

You’re both silent for a long time. Neither one of you are great conversationalists and Yoongi seems to be on the brink of an aneurysm. Eventually you relent.

‘Listen,’ your Korean is tense but you know it’s correct, you’ve made sure it’s correct, you refuse to give him an inch. ‘You were right the other night. It’s fucked up how the west and Europe looks at Asia, especially relatively new democracies like Korea. We hold them to,’ you gesture with your hand as you look for the word, ‘unbelievably high standards and then judge them for it. we judge you from democracies that are far far from perfect, democracies that are always on the edge of fascism, democracies that are built off the blood and backs of slavery, colonialism and ecological devastation. We forced you all to speak English and now English is the lingua Munda. You’re right to be angry, you’re right to be upset, especially considering the awful things this country has had to deal with from the likes of the USA. It must be incredibly frustrating and patronising to have to learn English, conduct interviews in English and be constantly asked for everything to be in English, to be considered worthy of international recognition. If anything you guys are proof that you don’t need English at all to dominate the global stage.’

Yoongi went to open his mouth then, but you waved him away.

‘But that doesn’t mean that you get to talk to me like that. Not you. Not anyone. Everything that you said, I’ve thought about myself ten times over and ten times worse. Namjoon and I have had so many conversations about this; before I came to Korea I had some understanding of the history of violence and colonialism this country had been subjected to for centuries, from the Japanese, from the US. But I still came to it from s western, trans-Atlantic understanding of colonialism and I’ve been working and researching to understand these different histories and thoughts and ways of speaking so I can fully understand. It’s a huge part of my job Yoongi, working in Gwanju.’

You could feel yourself getting off track. You took another swig of beer and tried to rain it back. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out into the street. You weren’t sure if your Korean was making any sense.

‘White guilt, western guilt, it’s boring and fruitless. It puts the onus on those who’ve been subjected to these systems of systemic violence. I know this. But in that moment Yoongi what you said was cruel and hurtful and i panicked and I needed to get the fuck out of there. You were right I missed half the show, I don’t know what happened out there, but whatever it was, whatever all of,’ again you gesture wildly, ‘whatever all of this fucked up fuckery we live in is, you don’t get to use me as a…a punching bag.’

Your Korean had become shaky at the end and you’d stumbled into English just so you could finish your point. You weren’t used to defending yourself, it still went against your instincts. Your heart was racing.

For a couple minutes, the sound of your breath was all you could hear, blood rushing to your ear drums.

‘It’s not true.’

‘What?’ You look up, Yoongi was now looking directly at you.

‘You said that what I’d said had been true. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. It was xenophobic and racist. You’re right, we’re subjected to these fucked up systems but that doesn’t mean that we can weaponise them and manipulate them to hurt each other, that’s not how they will end.’

You look at him, unconsciously mouthing some of his words as you try to process them in your head.

‘I’m sorry Y/N. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I knew about your panic attacks. I knew what I was doing. It was completely and utterly fucked up, I’m so so sorry. You’re so great with Joon and I-

‘You don’t think that.’

He faltered. ‘What?’

‘You don’t think that I’m good with Namjoon,’ you repeated. ‘Ever since we started dating, you’ve avoided me, you never talk to me.’

‘I-‘

‘In fact you often leave the room if im in it. I think the other night was perhaps the longest conversation we’ve ever had, if you can call it that.’

Yoongi seemed to close then. He drew back. You sighed, you were tired of this. ‘Namjoon acts like it doesn’t matter but you’re his best friend Yoongi. I know he’s used to telling you everything. He’s so angry right now. I don’t want to come between you two, I don’t want him to lose you. He needs you.’

Yoongi looked up suddenly at that. His eyes were bright. ‘I don’t want to lose him either.’ He whispered, quickly ducking his head and raking his hands through his hair. You were worried he might try pull it out.

‘I’m sorry i treated you the way that I did. It was cruel and unnecessary, to you and Namjoon.’

You folded your arms and cocked your head.

‘I was weary. And it wasn’t because you weren’t Korean, I’ve close friends who’ve married people not from Korea, who’ve moved abroad-‘

‘Careful,’ you interjected, smiling. ‘You’re starting to sound like those people who insist that they aren’t racist because they have black friends.’

‘-but I was worried about how it’d affect the music,’ he persisted. ‘I was worried about how Namjoon’s priorities would not only shift towards love but also across continents and languages. I was worried he’d be stretched too thin and that the music would suffer.’ He looked at you then, before voicing your deepest fears. ‘That he would suffer.’

‘I’ve known him since he was young and he wasn’t like the rest of us. He’d never allowed himself to get distracted by girls or love. He’d been 100% on the music and the group, nothing else. Part of me worried about the music, but a big part of me worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle it.’ He grabbed your hand then, he could see the guilt and panic start to fester behind your eyes. ‘Because he was falling hard for you Y/N, so hard, harder I think than any of us have fallen before.’

You nodded, unable to speak.

‘I love him Yoongi,’ you breathed, not daring to look away.

Yoongi let go of your hand, he leaned back and took a swig of beer. He fiddled with the label, tearing it into tiny pieces.

‘The truth is Y/N that I’ve never seen him so happy.’ Yoongi rolled the shreds of bottle label into tiny cigarettes and laid them in a row on the table. ‘His songwriting is on s different level and, and he’s calmer,’ your breath catches in your throat at that one. ‘He’s calmer and you can see behind his eyes, you know, he’s not…always putting up a front.’

Yoongi stopped talking then. But you didn’t dare start. You didn’t want to break the spell.

‘I said some fucked up shit the other night. One thing I said was that he must be so tired coming home to you and having to speak English, but it’s not true. I’ve never seen him so healthy, so full of energy. I don’t know your relationship, and that’s my fault, but I don’t think you drain him at all. Not in the slightest. I think you do the opposite, Y/N. Im sorry.’

Yoongi leaned back then, pretended to watch the people walking past. His shoulders slumped forward.

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’

His head whipped around. He must have misheard you. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I want to be friends Yoongi.’ You repeat again, smiling at him.

He blinks at you. ‘What is this? Primary school? You want to be my friend? Is it that easy?’

‘It can be. If you want it to be.’

Yoongi leaned back before suddenly smiling and getting up from the table with outstretched arms. ‘Come here, noona.’

You laugh and meet him in the hug.

‘You’re older than me!’

He grips you in a bare hug and shakes you from side to side. ‘Doesn’t matter, you’re far wiser than I will ever be.’

Suddenly a car pulls up and Jungkook is apologetically staring at you both from the driver’s seat. Before any of you can register what’s going on, Namjoon has vaulted out of the passenger side, across the car and scooped you into his arms.

‘Oh my god, I was so worried.’ His hands moved across your face and hair as if to make sure everything was where he’d last left it. ‘I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour but you haven’t been answering. I was freaking out and then Jimin said that Yoongi had also gone awol and hadn’t been in his studio for at least an hour and we put two and two together-‘

It was at that moment that Namjoon remembered Yoongi standing there, his arms swinging from where you’d been ripped from them. Namjoon instinctively put himself between you and him.

‘What do you want? What did you say to her? You’ve got some fucking nerve coming anywhere near her.’

Jungkook was out the car now and fruitlessly had his hands between the two, unsure who he was going to have to hold back.

You scoffed and pushed past Joon. ‘It’s ok Joon. It’s fine.’ You kept a steady hand on his arm.

‘We talked it out. It’s ok. It’s sorted, Yoongi apologised, all is forgiven, I promise.’

Namjoon’s eyes flitted between yours and Yoongi’s, the pain in them at having to fight his best friend over his girlfriend starting to seep through.

Yoongi must’ve seen it as well because he stepped forward. ‘Joon it’s true. She called me. I apologised, atoned for my sins, we solved neo-colonialism and late capitalism, we’re good.’ Namjoon’s eyes were still tight, he wasn’t moving. Yoongi sighed and grabbed his neck before Jungkook could intervene, leaning his forehead against Joon’s. ‘She’s incredible bro. You’re lucky to have her. I’m so fucking grateful she forgave me. I can’t wait to get to know her better. Can you forgive me?’

There was an intense few seconds. Before some silent communication took place because suddenly Namjoon and Yoongi were in the deepest of hugs. The kind of bear hug guys will do, slapping each other on the back and sort of rocking back and forth. You joined Jungkook on the sidelines, leaning against the car and trying not to laugh at the greatest romance in history unfolding before your eyes.

‘I missed you bro.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘Uughh!’ Jungkook loudly groaned, ribbing you. ‘Hyung can we go get tonkatsu now or what?’

[otherone12]

We Were Meant To Be, Supposed To Be

( Avril reference lol)

Frank Iero × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I took too long to write this, because I wasn't at home, so couldn't finish it. Also, i've changed the whole plot of this fic like three times, and I still thinking that's not good as I wanted. Anyways, i hope you enjoy :D

A/N 2: You guys want a Vampire x Reader fic? And with wich member?

Summary - You and Frank dated for a while before he joined MCR, but when you two decided to go separate ways, the different worlds didn’t work well together and you broke up. Years later, your lives collide again, but this time you’re not that young anymore. (This supposed to be a DD era Frank, but if you wanted to change it, be your guest).

- Word Count: 1.530

- Warnings: none

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st person POV

  I was walking down streets on my way to my work, like I do every single day. The large amount of people on the street got me a bit nervous, but I learned to pretend that they didn't exist. 

    The huge building where I work seems small when I enter through the automatic door and go to my even smaller office. I took my earphones and turned the radio on in my city’s broadcasting station. “.... and we're gonna rock this town, like we always do.” The voice that I heard sounded a bit familiar, but I couldn't tell who it was, 'cause of the noise from poor radio contact.   

    I tried harder to listen to what he’ll say, but he had already  finished the interview and the announcer said “Guys, that was Frank Iero telling us what we can expect from the My Chemical Romance concert next week. Thank you, Frank!”

    I got shocked. Why wasn't I able to recognize Frank's voice? It's been that long?

   Frank and I met at high school in our freshman year. We became best friends in about three months. Earlier than we expected, we were hanging out and holding hands. He was the best part of my highschool, probably because I was the most introverted person in the world, he is the opposite. Frank encouraged me to go to parties with him, to be less insecure, to be myself… I owe him all the chances I haven't let go since.

So, like all good things, we were over. He is a famous guitarist, touring through the whole world with his band, and I'm here. I went to college and became exactly what I wanted since I was a kid. 

    We were immature and broke up at the first trouble we had, we’ve been together for six years, and knew each other enough to know that we couldn’t handle a long distance relationship. Without any fight or discussion, we decided that was the end, and just didn’t talked anymore to not turn things harder than they almost were.

Moving on took me a few years, but no one of the people that I dated after Frank made me feel the way he did. Maybe we’re some kind of "meant to be'', and we threw our chance away, giving up that easy.

    The idea of Frank being here gave me the sensation of butterflies in my stomach, should i talk to him? No. I mean, I would like to see him, ask him if he thinks of me like I think of him. Maybe he's still trying to forget about us but incapable to do it, just like me. 

    I gave a brief look to the clock on the wall and noticed that I spent an hour just thinking of Frank, remembering our best moments. And just when I thought I reached the bottom, I felt a tear dripping down my face. 

    With my sleeve, I wiped that single tear in my cheek and keeped working. 

    The rest of the day was gray, the color of the clouds coincidently matched with my feelings. At home, I dropped myself in my bed and turned the tv on, with a desperate yearn to keep my mind out of my old memories. In a few minutes I fell asleep. 

*** time skip ***

  Next day, I decided that I would enjoy myself in some cool place. So at 9pm I put on my best clothes and went to my favorite bar. The place still the same since the last time i went there

   The low lights inside the bar almost made me stumble but I held on to the door before falling.

Like always, the place was crowded and the mix of people talking and the small band who were playing reminded me why I definitely prefer to stay at home instead of going out. Don’t get me wrong, the band was good, I only hate this amount of noise. 

    I took a seat by the side of a group of four men, but it was too dark to see their faces. I avoided looking at any of them for a long time, so it wouldn't look like I was flirting or something.

    - Hey! It's been a long time since the last time you’ve been here. - I used to come here so often that I became friends with the bartender - How’s it going?

   - Great i think, just a bit down this week. - I tell him, with a heavy sight - But I'm here to relax, so, gimme the same as always.

   - Right away, dear! 

   The bartender called my name after some minutes to give me my drink, and I felt the back of my neck burn, like I was being watched. Slowly, I turned around and the four guys were looking at me. My eyes, now accustomed with the dim place, could recognize their faces. I forgot how to breathe when I realized who they were.  

  - Holy shit! I thought I heard your voice, but then I thought that I was getting insane - The man closer to me said, and a silly smile appeared on my face. - You remember me, right, darling?

    - How could I forget you, Frank? - I took a sip of my drink, still smiling. - And, believe me, I tried so fucking hard to.

    - So do I… 

    He took a deep breath and his gaze showed that he missed me as much as I missed him. 

    - When he knew that we’ll be doing some concerts here, he started to talk about you and didn’t stop - Ray said, giggling, while Frank gave him a deathly look. - Well, good to see you again, by the way!

    - Same, guys! - I looked at all of them and nodded, drinking again. - Eight years is too long, but at the same time it seems like it was just a week ago. 

    - Ain’t that the truth? Damn! - Frank didn’t stop to look at me as of the beginning of the conversation. If he keeps doing this, I'll end up kissing him. - You’re pretty as always. ya know?

    My world just tumbled down with his sentence. He used to say this daily to me, in the same way. I gasped and, just like a movie, I saw him, a sixteen boy sitting by my side at the school’s refectory saying this to me for the first time. 

    Ray, Gerard and Mikey walked away to the other side of the bar and Frank stood up when I didn’t respond. Unable to say anything, I just looked at his hazel eyes and felt him getting closer. The feeling of panic washed my body with the sensation of his lips on mine. His hands runned through my body and his tongue entwined in mine. 

    All this eight fucking years trying to get over him, and he made all of this be in vain. I missed his touch more than I could even imagine. 

    I lost my fingers in his hair and when we both were breathless, we pulled up and just looked at each other.

    - Shit, how I missed you! - Frank said, holding my waist. - Wanna take a walk outside?

    - Sure. 

    We walked at the door, letting all the noise behind. The cold air of the night reached my face and I shivered, my mind was so confused that I barely noticed that Frank was holding my hand. 

    - So… I don't even know how to start to say how much I regret leaving you.   

    He was looking down, and I've never heard him so serious before.

    - You didn’t leave me. It was consensual. 

    - Yeah, but.. but I blame myself every day for not insisting on continuing with you. - He whined with an evident remorse in his voice. The regretful tone of his sigh was painful for me to hear.

    - Wasn’t your fault, Frank. We were both immature. - I let go of his hand and put my arm around his neck, in an attempt to comfort him. I wish someone had told me the same thing I said to Frank. After he’s gone I felt as guilty as him, and it lasted all these years. - Altrought we can try again, ‘cause we made it clear to each other that we still have mutual feelings.

    - You’re right, but how is this gonna work? - We stopped walking and Frank looked at me. His confused gaze turned sad and worried as the next words left his mouth.  - You have your life here, and my music is my life so… 

   - Maybe we can try that long distance thing… - A little unsure of what he would think of the idea, I tried to accept the only possible option for our situation. - Seeing each other when you were not on a tour, spending holidays together, calling and texting each other every day...

    - Sounds like an idea to me.

    He smiled and pulled me closer to a kiss, this time i wasn’t worried about all that shit. I let the moment ride me and a hopeful sensation warmed my body even more than Frank’s hands on my face and hips. I felt on fire when the kiss turned deeper. 

    - Are you sure that you wanna try to do this? - I broke the kiss for an instant. 

    - I’m on there, baby! 

___________________________________________

~So... that's it. lemme know if you enjoyed ;)

[aziraphales-library]

Oh great library wizard- Do you have any fics about the Great War between heaven and hell? I'd love to see some angst, world building, or wartime star-crossed lovers stories.

You might be interested in checking out the fics on our #pre-fall, #aziraphale and crowley met before the fall, and #the fall tags, so check those out. Here are some around the war in heaven...

Obedience by Aethelflaed (T)

Before Eden, before the Fall, there was a War in Heaven. Somewhere, amongst the eternal fighting on the endless battlefield, one angel learns the consequences of disobeying an order.

Ingnition by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

Before the beginning, Aziraphale meets a nice angel who makes a star for him. But after the War starts, everything changes, including the nice angel he once knew. When he and Crawley meet again in Eden, will they still be able to enjoy each other’s company?

A Fair Test by takemetotheworld (T)

It took a moment to realize the angel had asked him a question. All coherent thoughts had fled Aziraphale’s mind the moment the other angel uttered the word idiocy in reference to the Great Plan, a level of audacity so staggering he didn’t know how it was possible for the sounds to have even passed the stranger’s lips. He forced himself to focus on the question itself. Surely he had misunderstood the rest of the angel’s comments. Or perhaps not. He wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

Aziraphale is intrigued by the excitable red-haired angel he watched speak a nebula into existence, but he finds himself increasingly in over his head as his new acquaintance starts publicly questioning the Great Plan.

The Devil’s Love by OneDapperCat (M)

Baraqiel has returned from launching a star system with the news of Armageddon. He wants to do what he can to convince God to change her mind about ending everything before it really begins. He crosses paths with Lucifer, who offers helps to the distraught angel. God has set Lucifer the task of designing and building Hell: a place where angels that don’t align themselves with her divine plan will go for punishment. She has offered him up to 1/3 of her ranks, should he find that many that are against her, but she didn’t expect him to set his sights on one of her three favorite angels. Aziraphale finds himself drawn to the star making angel he accidentally upset, but he can never seem to make him slow down enough to catch his name.

Outside of Time by PeniG (G)

God is infinite, her creations finite, and any concept small enough for a creation’s mind to hold is necessarily too small to approximate reality. Hence ineffability is born with Lucifer and language. One must speak imperfectly, or be silent. Gadreel was not/is not/will never be good at silence. Meanwhile, a happy little principality is having a tickety-boo time. Change is afoot, but how can Heaven change? Half of Heaven goes on strike. Gadreel gets depressed. God doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Lucifer tries to make Her notice. Aziraphale holds a door, and accidentally makes a flaming sword. Gadreel does not fight in the long night that will be known as The War. Aziraphale becomes a soldier. Because somebody has to. Gadreel becomes Crawly, Satan’s little pet snake; but how much of that is who he is, and how much is who he pretends to be? How long until he can no longer tell the difference, himself? The final pieces are placed. The Human Project goes live. Time begins.

The Truth Remains by WanderingAlice (M)

Raphael had been the third angel ever created, and he’d raised himself first with Michael’s clumsy help. Then he’d turned around and raised three more siblings, and loved them all so fiercely it hurt. He'd loved Aziraphale too, more than either of them really knew. And then, he fell. He lost everything. The bond he held with his siblings was ripped away, leaving an aching, empty void. And while he still has Aziraphale, the angel doesn't recognize the archangel who taught him how to care about the Earth. And Crowley refuses to tell him who he was, or how Aziraphale's voice is the one thing that can soothe the ache in his soul that wants, so badly, to feel a connection again. A story through the ages as an angel and a demon come to terms with their shared past.

- Mod D

[cryscendo]

For the fic ask, can I request one you wanted to write and weren't asked? Klaine, please! ♥

oooooh boy, you really opened up the floodgates with this one. I decided to go super angsty because i just really needed to get this out there. this takes place around the time of “the quarterback” and i went with the prompt “things you didn’t say at all”

i hope you enjoy and sorry in advance for the heartbreak :’(

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 1599

Rating: T

Prompt: 5 - things you didn’t say at all

Warning: mentions of canon character death as a main plot point (references to The Quarterback)

if you would like to request a prompt, you can do so here.

Fic can be read under the cut

Finn’s death was hard on Kurt.

Make no mistake, it was hard on everyone. After watching Santana break down in the middle of the choir room, Blaine was truly able to see just how much this was taking a toll on his friends. Grief was shared amongst everyone who knew Finn, and it made it difficult to even pretend to be okay.

But Kurt… Kurt was suffocating with it. Every moment since his arrival back in Ohio for the funeral had been filled with this poisonous cocktail of emotions.

Kurt didn’t discuss this situation, at least not directly. He more so just tiptoed around the issue, and his words were like a children’s game of telephone where the original words get completely altered and warped, but the overall message is understood.

Blaine watched Kurt as his fiancé tried on no less than twelve different outfits for the funeral. They ranged from black to gray to navy, and he even tried his hand at adding a bit of deep plum. He looked gorgeous in all of them. None of them were good enough for Finn's funeral.

“This isn’t right either,” Kurt said, already moving to undo his tie. It was a sleek thing with very subtle, barely there gold-stitched accents. “Too flashy.” It really, truly wasn’t, but Blaine wasn’t about to argue.

“Maybe do the black suit with the plum sweater? Just forgo the tie completely.” Blaine knew that the problem wasn’t a tie. But Kurt wasn’t talking about what the actual problem was. “I’ll match to you.”

Kurt gave himself a long, hard look in the mirror before him. Blaine didn’t think that he would respond at all. That was until he eventually sighed and turned back towards Blaine. “Let’s try it, then.”

And so it goes.

The funeral ended without incident. Kurt actually agreed to Blaine’s outfit suggestion, which only further proved to Blaine that Kurt was, definitively, not doing well. Because if he was, there would’ve been a bit more scrutiny on Blaine’s choice of textile combinations, as well as how it affected the overall silhouette. He looked great of course, but it was also clear that he wore it not because he was actually in love with the outfit, but because he needed to pick something and allowing Blaine to make the decision took some of the pressure off of him.

Kurt didn’t talk much during the service. He did stand up and give a brief speech, which Blaine was grateful for — even if it felt a bit like Kurt was saying only a fraction of what he wanted to say.

They sat in Kurt’s bedroom a day or two later. Burt and Carole weren’t home, having needed to take care of a few things. They offered for Kurt and Blaine to join them, but Kurt turned the offer down on both of their behalfs. This seemed to disappoint Burt, but Blaine wasn’t interested in going against the wishes of his clearly grief-stricken fiancé.

So they stayed home. And Kurt once again did not speak much.

Eventually though, dinner came around, and Blaine had to make an effort to at least get Kurt to eat something (he has always been on the smaller side, but ever since Kurt moved to New York, Blaine got the sense that he prioritized things like work and school over eating). He brought Kurt a bowl of pasta up to his room — it was left over from the reception catering; Blaine wasn’t exactly the cook in the relationship.

While Kurt accepted the food, he made no move to actually eat it. Instead, he wordlessly spun his fork around inside the bowl, picking up noodles only to let them slip back off the utensil uselessly. He repeated this motion for several minutes until Blaine finally stopped him.

“Not hungry, honey?” Blaine asked, dragging Kurt’s attention back to reality.

Kurt’s eyes flickered up to Blaine’s face for a moment before peering back down towards the pasta, which up to that point had been virtually untouched. “Oh, yeah, I guess not.”

“You really need to eat.” Kurt hadn’t hardly eaten anything since the reception, and even then he grazed more than actually ate. That wasn’t entirely his fault, though. It was hard for Kurt and his parents to get much time to eat when people kept approaching them to express their condolences directly. It was well-meaning each and every time, but Blaine could see that it was taking a lot for Kurt to not tell people to ‘please leave me the fuck alone’. He was wound so tight that one wrong word could’ve easily made him snap.

“I know,” he confirmed. But rather than actually take a bite of his food, he set the bowl down on the mattress between them. Okay. Food wasn’t going to happen right now. That’s fine.

“Kurt, are you going to be okay?” He asked even though he sensed that he already knew the answer. Kurt was strong, powerful, resilient. But beyond that, he was still human.

“Yep,” Kurt responded directly. “Gotta keep on keeping on, y’know? Work and school aren’t going to wait for me forever. So I have no choice but to be okay.”

It was a reasonable enough answer, but Blaine knew it wasn’t what Kurt was feeling. This brave face that Kurt was putting on wasn’t him being honest with himself. Kurt has dealt with more loss than someone his age has any right to. His mother was first, and now Finn. And all the while, his own father was still in a balancing act with his own health and Blaine knew how much that worried Kurt.

Blaine knew he should’ve just left well enough alone, but that wasn’t really his style.

“It’s okay to not be okay, Kurt,” Blaine gently reminded. Kurt clearly didn’t want the reminder.

“You’re not going to lecture me into discussing my feelings. I won’t. I’m fine. And even if I’m not, that’s not going to bring Finn back, now is it?” Kurt put in great effort to make his words come out collected, but his own emotions worked to betray him. “So I’d be wasting my time weeping over something like this when it’s not going to change a single thing.”

“I know that, but please just listen, okay?” Blaine didn’t hold Kurt’s emotions against him. Asking someone to be entirely pleasant after undergoing severe loss was an unreasonable request. All he wanted was for Kurt to hear him for a moment. And with the way that Kurt fell silent, it seemed like he was willing to try.

“Nobody’s asking you to be fine,” Blaine began, moving both of their bowls to Kurt’s nightstand so that he could sit closer to his partner. “All I’m asking is that you be honest with yourself. Everyone can see how hard this has been on you; it’s not exactly a secret.” In response to Blaine’s words, Kurt looked away from him, instead choosing to examine his fingernails. It was artificial distance, not making eye contact. Blaine continued on regardless. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on inside your head, but just know that whatever it is, you’re allowed to feel it.”

Kurt didn’t respond, but the way that he bit anxiously at his lower lip told Blaine that he was at least listening. That was good at least, that he was attentive to what Blaine was saying to him.

Blaine continued, reaching down to hold Kurt’s hand in his, his thumb swiping instinctively over Kurt’s engagement ring. Kurt watched the motion and sucked in a shaky breath. Kurt didn’t need to say what he was thinking at that moment; Blaine already knew — Finn was never going to be able to see Kurt get married, or even be married himself.

“I don’t think you’ve let yourself feel much of anything since it happened. You didn’t even cry at the funeral.” Kurt tensed, but didn’t pull away. Blaine continued. “I’m not saying you have to talk about it. I’m not saying you have to pour your heart out to the first person who is willing to listen. All I’m saying is that you need to let yourself be not okay. If you go back to New York and pretend nothing’s wrong, I’m scared it’s going to eat you alive. I don’t want that for you.”

Blaine fell silent after that, now only watching Kurt’s face as he continued to stare down at their joined hands. Seconds bled into minutes of wordlessness, and Blaine was beginning to worry that everything he had just said was going to be discarded.

That is, until Kurt’s eyes turned glassy with tears.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked and was immediately followed by silent tears streaming in heavy drops down Kurt’s face. “Shit, Kurt…”

Blaine hugged Kurt close then and Kurt didn’t even try to turn it down. Kurt’s arms were tight around Blaine as if he was afraid that if he let Blaine go, he’d disappear. The room was silent save for the soft sounds of Kurt’s broken gasps as wept quietly into Blaine’s shoulder. It tore at Blaine’s heart, hearing those sounds come from Kurt, his one true love, who somehow unjustly is regularly the victim of tragedy.

Kurt never did end up saying all the things that he had locked up inside his head, but that was okay. He didn’t need to. His actions were loud enough that Blaine understood them as if he were reading them from a book. If Kurt never discussed this again, that would be okay too.

The message was already clear enough.

[streetlightyeri]

Would you ever write for Scott from twisters?

I am in the midst of writing something for him! I have three fics in the works (part 2 for tyler, the main fic that "false god" fits in for boone, and one for scott). they're all based off of Zach Bryan songs.

I just feel like everything I'm writing sounds like I'm illiterate. It's very hard for me to write things that don't have extensive backstories (ig that's what a masters degree in creative writing does to a person lol), so I have to actively fight myself to not write 100 pages of fanfiction about a side character that gets 10 minutes of screen time bc literally no one would read that. for reference of how inane I am when I write: I am currently searching academic sources to get an understanding of sound wave acoustics bc I've decided one of my characters will have a PhD in it - like what is my problem, this is a movie about TORNADOES. anyway lol here's a little sneak peek for the Scott fic. very rough - hasn't been proof read even once. <3

“ASPEN!” It felt like the world was spinning around him, as though he was the center of the tornado. He had his hat clenched in his hand. He felt his lunch fighting to come up. All around him was destruction with a death toll of 14 and climbing. If she was one of them, he wouldn’t know what he would do. He had searched every same piece of rubble that was once her grandmother’s house and had no luck.

Javi walked up to the Tornado Wrangler crew with arms extended in a gesture that one would use when approaching a bull. “I understand you do not want to see me, but trust me, we are not working these people.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Scott scouring what he could only imagine was the remnants of her room for the 3rd time. He pulled his phone and swiped to the photo Scott shared with him. He turned it to the group. “Have you seen this girl?”

Tyler blinked a moment too long and a tanned girl with cropped hair swallowed harshly. Dani was her name, if Javi remembered correctly. She stepped away from the table where she was handing out food and pulled Javi to the side. “It’s bad. I found her in that flipped StormPar truck pinned to the seat by an old iron post through the chest. It didn’t seem like she was trying to take cover, more like she was trying to grab something because this was in her hand.”

Dani handed him a hunk of plastic that would’ve seemed like nothing to someone else. But Javi knew: this was the StormPar data. She could very well be dead, all because she didn’t want Scott to lose everything from the Par.

“It . . . I thought she was dead, her breathing was so shallow. I’m a trained EMT, so I almost called it. Anyone else would have. But she twitched, so I investigated some more. I had to trach her to keep the stress off her heart. Tyler and I put her in an ambulance with the post still in about 20 minutes ago.”

Javi turned to run to get Scott, but Dani’s hand gripped his upper arm, forcing him to turn back to her.

She leveled her eyes with his, steeling her voice. “I can guess who she is to him. She may not have even made it to the hospital. Her breathing depends on how well the EMTs can bag her. What he sees may scar him. He may be identifying her. Make sure he is prepared. Do not give him false hope.”

Javi gave one strong nod. “Thank you.” He glanced at the rest of the group who pretended to not be listening. “Y’all are good people.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and let him go, watching as he ran to Scott who had screamed himself hoarse. Javi slipped the data pack into his back pocket; the reason she was in that truck was not something he was going to be telling Scott, at least not at that time. Javi tried to explain everything else, but the second the word ambulance came out of Javi’s mouth, Scott was running for the truck. Javi had to tackle him against the door and take the keys from him. “You are not stable enough to drive.”

Scott would’ve argued any other time, but every second he spent outside the vehicle was one where he could be on the way to see her. He complied, climbing into the passenger seat.