#the wedding chapter..... very sweet way to end it

[waitineedaname]

I have now finished all the svsss extras! ouuguugh this series man

[flowerandblood]

The Song of Promises [1/3]

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: loss of virginity (both characters), sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, angst, abduction, description of eye loss, mourning, child abuse, Aemond being a self-absorbed, vain guy ]

[ description: Aemond's childhood is filled with loneliness and regret until Daemon arrives in the Red Keep with his first-born child, daughter of Rhea Royce. The fact that neither of them has a dragon of their own binds them together with a thread of understanding, and their slowly developing relationship gives birth in the young prince's mind to a plan of which she is a part. Slow burn, childhood companions to lovers, first intimacy, rude, insolent, arrogant Aemond with big ego. ]

This is story that describes the events of what would have happened if Aemond had met Daemon's daughter earlier (i.e. as a child). The characters are exactly the same as in the original The Price of Pride, but still, this is a standalone story that can be read separately: you don't need to know that story to read this one.

I have tried to show how the need for closeness matures in adolescents as they get older until they fully understand what they want and how to achieve it. Decide for yourself what happened between them when and at what age so that you feel comfortable with it (let's agree that the ages from the books and the series do not apply here, because at the end of the chapter we are still before Helaena and Aegon's wedding: everyone is simply older than in the source material, decide for yourself by how many years).

A big inspiration for me to wrtie this story was my relationship with my husband (everything was going very slowly for us and each new base was an achievement and a great event). That said, this story you will read alternately from two perspectives (not the same events tho).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Aemond

That night he slept exceptionally badly: he wriggled in his bed for a long time, struggling to hold back tears of anger, thinking of what Aegon and his nephews had done to him. His older brother was spiteful by nature, but until now he had believed that they would support each another in the presence of the Strongs.

He was mistaken.

The pig with wings he had been given by them – according to Aegon's assurances, as a consolation prize – was eye-watering proof of the humiliation he had suffered at his hands for years. The way they all laughed out loud while he stood completely petrified with shame and the fact that they considered it amusing made his whole body begin to shake.

He wished the sun would never rise again.

When he woke up the next day, his meal was served as usual: to his delight, his mother, although she did not usually allow it, ordered his favourite sweet cinnamon rolls to be brought to him. While he still felt miserable, eating them made his spirits lighter, as the pleasant thought went through his head that his mother loved him.

During the sparring, Aegon acted as if he had forgotten what he had done to him the day before: he said something to him and laughed, as if he expected him to feel like replying to him after the humiliation he had suffered at his hands.

His silence, unfortunately, was not met with understanding from his brother either.

“Must you always be such a twat?” Aegon asked.

Again he did not answer, pressing his lips into a thin line with rage, and hit one of the targets with all his strength with a wooden sword.

He did not utter words that Aegon or his nephews could use against him.

He thought he would never give them a reason to mock him again.

Silence was safe.

However, he was snapped out of his reverie by the voice of Jace, who had been speaking to Luke during one of their short breaks.

“Mother said they would be arriving today. Daemon and his firstborn daughter. He killed her mother.” His nephew spoke in a whisper, clearly excited, but he stood close enough to understand what he said.

Daemon's firstborn daughter.

It was true that he had heard of her and knew that she existed, however, her person did not particularly concern him: she had no dragon and she was a girl, so she did not threaten him in any way, yet she also had nothing that would make him find the subject of her arrival interesting.

Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself, as he involuntarily strained his hearing, standing with his back to them, pretending to stretch before his next routine, paying no attention to the fact that Criston Cole was shouting something to him and Aegon.

“He killed her mother?” Squealed Luke, and Jace shushed him and tapped him on the head, clearly wanting his little brother to be quiet.

“It's gossip. Mother says we have to be kind to her. She won't have here anyone but us.” Jace explained to him.

Although he kept telling himself that he didn't care about some pathetic little girl without a dragon, the next morning he sat with his face pressed against the window, waiting for them to arrive.

He didn't know what he was actually waiting for: Daemon had always seemed intriguing to him. His uncle was confident and ironic, on top of which there was no one, except perhaps Ser Criston, who could match him in wielding a sword.

Deep down he admired him and the possibility of seeing him again thrilled him.

He twisted in his seat, rising higher on his arms as the gates to the courtyard opened and indeed, he saw his uncle on a white horse and a little girl with long, dark hair sitting before him in the saddle.

He snorted at the thought that, like his nephews, the gods had not bestowed upon her the Targaryen colour that he wore proudly on his head.

However, she was a legitimate child and had certainly inherited the colour of her hair from her mother, so he felt that this was not reason to mock her.

After all, his mother also had dark hair, and he held her in high regard and respect.

Daemon jumped off his mount lightly, then grabbed his daughter under the arms and helped her down, without waiting for the servant to run up to them.

He saw that she had started to look around – he thought that she was certainly enthralled and overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the Red Keep, but when she turned her face towards him he recognised that her facial expression was more one of uncertainty and fear.

She will have no one here but us.

He killed her mother.

For some reason, for a moment, but only a moment, he felt pity for her.

Although she was not a princess or anyone special, news of her arrival and the reason for it had spread through the fortress very quickly; he usually preferred to stay in his chamber or in the library, but on this day he had left his safe places to stroll the corridors and the castle, hoping to see her.

He wanted to judge her carefully in his mind: he had formed an opinion about everyone, and she could not remain an exception.

A sting of disappointment spread across his chest when, to his displeasure, he did not see her until the next day during sparring, in the company of Jace and Luke. They spoke to her, gesturing vividly, apparently showing her everything they could, she, however, simply looked at them with big eyes, terrified, and said nothing, looking where they told her to.

“My Princes. Come over here. Let's begin.” Criston Cole called out towards them, clearly impatient.

He grinned under his breath with satisfaction, feeling a pleasant pride at the thought that Ser Criston preferred them to the Strongs and was clearly showing it.

Jace and Luke stepped closer, and Daemon's daughter approached with them, her eyes wide, her small hands clenched into fists from anxiety.

Looking at her closely, he decided she was not ugly: her face seemed pleasant to him, her eyelashes and eyebrows long and dark, accentuating her skin tone in some interesing way. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, as were her lips: she was a little shorter than Jace, but like them, she was dressed in a training garment.

“Our cousin used to practise archery in Runestone. We thought she could do it here too.” Luke said.

Cole straightened up and sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Consent would have to be given by Prince Daemon himself. I cannot make that decision alone.” He replied matter-of-factly, causing the girl to lower her head, disappointed.

Jace, however, was not giving up.

“Then we'll ask him.” He said with vigour, glancing at his cousin, who shook her head.

“I don't know where he is. I can't find him anywhere.” She muttered.

“Prince Daemon, from the information I have, set off to Essos before dawn. Without his permission, I cannot take responsibility for your safety, my Lady.” Ser Criston explained, already a little softer.

An uncomfortable silence fell around them, one he'd experienced for the first time in his life: it wasn't filled with irritation or rage, but with the fact that it seemed to him that neither of them knew how to act in such a situation.

Usually when Jace or Luke didn't know or couldn't do something, it was a source of pride and mockery for him and Aegon: their nephews reacted similarly to failures on their side.

However, he didn't know what he should feel or think upon hearing that a little girl didn't know that her father was now with his second family.

He looked at her to witness her reaction and felt a strange squeeze in his throat seeing that she obviously did not know about it – her lips were slightly parted in disbelief, her gaze wandering from one person to the next, as if she felt humiliated and abandoned, left alone in a place foreign and frightening to her.

“With your permission, I will return to my chamber.” She mumbled and bowed, only to turn and move towards the cloisters, disappearing into one of the corridors.

“Did you see that? She is crying like a little baby. Would you like to join her, brother? You two fit together.” Said Aegon and patted him on the shoulder, making his cheeks flush scarlet with shame.

“That's enough.” Cole said. “Get back to practising.”

Although he occupied his head with various activities for the rest of the day – mostly reading books on Westeros history – his thoughts kept returning to her face then, when she found out her father was gone.

She wasn't as annoying and provocative as Jace and Luke, of that he was sure – nor had she inherited Daemon's aggressive manner, at least not in the way he'd expected. As much as he wanted to assign her to the Black party, as Daemon had always supported Rhaenyra, he wasn't sure she was even aware of the division between them and that she had to choose.

She was thrown between strange walls and strange people, left alone.

Even for him, it was quite cruel.

But it was not his concern, he consoled himself in spirit, trying to start a chapter concerning Winterfell.

For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to the supper with excitement: he knew that his father-king would surely invite his niece to it and say a few warm words to make her feel at home.

He hoped she would be seated close to them and not next to the Strongs.

She shouldn't spend time with the bastards, but he didn't blame her for doing so – he guessed that she simply didn't know who they really were.

Perhaps I should tell her about it, he told himself in spirit sitting down at the table in his seat, recognising that, in fact, he would be doing her a favour by doing so.

Indeed, there was one more chair placed at the table than usual. His cousin walked into the chamber, accompanied by his mother and sister. Helaena was saying something to her, and Daemon's daughter was smiling, looking down at her feet, apparently trying not to fall over in her long, brown gown.

Once again he felt a sense of pride, for it was his sister and not his nephews who had made their guest feel better.

To his satisfaction, which, however, he did not give expression to, trying to keep a stony face, his cousin took a seat next to his sister, that is, opposite him and Aegon. When she looked in his direction he did not leave her gaze for a moment – however, when she smiled, he turned his face away, feeling embarrassed.

He felt a sense of distinction because she had paid attention to him.

No one ever did that, because he was a second son without a dragon.

But she didn't have a dragon either, he consoled himself in his mind, and for some reason he felt relieved.

They were alike.

As he expected, his father greeted her in the presence of everyone, apparently wanting to give her courage.

“As I'm certain you all know by now, we have a guest. It is my brother's daughter, whom I welcome with great joy and love. From now on, the Red Keep will be her home and I ask you to treat her with kindness and understanding. A strange place, even more so for a little girl, can seem frightening. I trust each of you to care for her as best you can.” He said, then nodded and allowed everyone to begin their meal.

One more interaction occurred between them that evening: when he tried to reach for a pate that was too far away from him, she helped him by handing him a platter. She smiled at him again then, and he reciprocated the gesture awkwardly, feeling that for some reason his palms had started to sweat.

His king had said they should be kind to her, so he simply followed his order as any good son would do, he assured himself in his head.

Then Jace suddenly spoke up.

“My King. Our cousin is an excellent archer and we think she should be able to practice with us in the Red Keep as well. Ser Criston said that without her father's permission this is not possible. Wouldn't the King's order be more significant?” He asked, and all eyes fled towards his father.

“Little girls shouldn't be involved in such things.” Said Queen Alicent, taking a sip of wine, for some reason casting a long look at Rheanyra, sitting across the table.

“Why?” His half-sister asked. “Are all women in this world the same?”

His father decided to put an end to this brief argument by giving his own opinion on the matter.

Viserys decided that she could practise archery during their sparring, if it didn't interfere with their training.

She usually stood on the side and shot her bow at targets standing in a completely different part of the courtyard, so everyone quickly forgot about the dispute and stopped paying attention to her.

Or at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

He often looked at her, because when their gazes met, she usually smiled.

It was a warm smile, devoid of prejudice or malice: he did not usually reciprocate the gesture, fearing that Aegon would see it and find another reason to mock him.

She spoke to Jace and Luke, also occasionally smiling in their presence, but when she did so while looking at him, she looked different.

Perhaps it was just his childhood desire to be special to someone, to be noticed, that made him live in the belief that his cousin wanted to know him better.

He craved it too: confirmation of his suspicions, of the fact that, indeed, he had caught her attention. The reason, after all, could have been any feature of his personality that no one had noticed before: his intelligence, his knowledge, his rhetoric, his calmness and composure, how different he was from his brother and nephews.

His pride, however, prevented him from taking the first step: he knew that if anyone found out he was seeking her company, his brother would again call him a twat and say that he liked to play with girls because he was one himself.

That left him internally torn.

The opportunity fell upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky when one afternoon, as always eager to search the library for more reading for the dull, monotonous evenings, he saw Daemon and his daughter sitting at the table, bent over a thick, old volume that he knew intimately.

High Valyrian.

His cousin lifted her head upon hearing someone enter the room and bestowed upon him a broad, soft smile – Daemon's expression was not as friendly and expressed boredom.

To his relief, she spoke up first.

“My father is teaching me the language of our ancestors. Would you like to join us?” She asked, surprising both him and her father.

Daemon sighed, but did not protest, spreading out comfortably in his chair, giving him a look as if challenging him.

On the one hand, he was terrified and just wanted to run away, but on the other, this was his chance to get closer to both of them.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling his hands involuntarily clench into fists.

The fear of humiliation was greater than the excitement.

“Sit down.” Daemon commanded.

No one had ever spoken to him this way, not even his own father; for some reason, however, it did not frustrate him, but made him feel even more respect for his uncle.

I want to be like you, he thought in the back of his mind.

Confident and fearless.

So he sat down on the other side, in the empty chair next to Daemon, and moved closer to the table – he was ashamed that his legs still didn't reach the ground, but he hoped it wasn't apparent yet.

Just a few more years and he would become a man.

He felt much more confident when he saw that they had just reworked a chapter he had already read before.

“Perzys zaldrīzī ossēnagon daor.” Said Daemon, glancing at his daughter expectantly, apparently wanting her to translate the sentence.

“Fire cannot…” She started, but fell silent, clearly not knowing what one of the words meant.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.” He spoke up, proud to show his uncle how broad his knowledge was.

“Good.” Daemon said.

He swallowed quietly, glancing at his cousin: her downward gaze and her hunched figure told him that she was sad that he hadn't even given her time to think.

He decided that perhaps he shouldn't come out in front all the time, lest he come across as vain.

“Zaldrīzo ānogar.” Said her father – he stirred in his chair, excited, knowing exactly what it means and that it is a fairly simple, even obvious phrase.

Daemon did it so she could respond too.

“The dragon…” She muttered, incorrectly constructing the sentence syntax.

When she looked at him, his lips uttered quickly the soundless ‘blood of the dragon’. She drew in a loud breath, an expression of relief flashed across her face.

“N-no. Blood. Blood of the dragon.” She quickly changed the order of the words, and Daemon nodded, moving on.

He didn't know why he had helped her then, but he liked the way she looked at him from then on.

With curiosity and gratitude.

In secret from his mother, grandfather and brother, he would sneak off to the library to learn with his uncle and his daughter about what he had been studying with the Maester earlier. He didn't admit that he had a kind of advantage over her, but he would sometimes pretend that he didn't know something in order to give her the opportunity to prove herself to her father.

Daemon seemed to him the embodiment of everything he himself wanted to be. Unlike his father, who did not find the strength or time to teach him about the history of their lineage, his uncle shared it extensively with him and his daughter, seeming indifferent and matter-of-fact at the same time.

Daemon was a demanding teacher, but this made him turn on his natural desire to compete: his cousin, however, did not have as much knowledge as he did because she could not have it, so he did not treat her in the same way as Jace and Luke.

They did not speak with each other outside the library; sometimes she smiled at him, but he only reciprocated this expression when the others could not see it – the corner of his mouth then lifted slightly upwards in an attempt to present some pathetic caricature of cordiality.

He wanted to be liked and admired, but didn't know how to achieve it.

One day, to his surprise, his cousin visited him in his chamber when the sun had long since set – he was already lying in his bed while reading a book.

He didn't like anyone invading his private space, but he couldn't say that the sight of her made him uncomfortable either.

He remained silent, deciding to listen to what she had come to him with.

“Tomorrow I am leaving to Essos. My father wants me to meet my sisters and stepmother.” She muttered, lowering her gaze as she spoke the last sentence.

She didn't want to see her replacement.

He grunted quietly, fiddling with the page of the book he held in his hands, feeling some kind of regret and disappointment.

“I see.” He replied, not knowing what more he could add.

She, however, was still standing in the same place, as if expecting to hear something more from him.

“I want to thank you for... for helping me then. Before lessons with my father, I repeat everything he taught me, but when I sit next to him, I suddenly forget the words. My head is empty.” She choked out finally, making him involuntarily look at her, surprised.

He felt a pleasant wave of pride and self-satisfaction ripple deep into his chest.

He lifted his chin higher, wanting to look more mature and dignified.

“You're welcome.” He hummed, hoping to hear even more praise from her lips.

“Sleep well, cousin.” She said and turned away, leaving him once again with a cold feeling of disappointment.

He realised that he hadn't asked her when they were coming back.

As she and his uncle disappeared, he felt with redoubled intensity how invisible he was to the inhabitants of the Red Keep: or at least that was how he perceived it. Even if he had wanted to, he no longer had anyone to show his intellect and knowledge to, no smile waiting for him when he sat down to supper in the company of his loud nephews and his half-sister, whom he deeply despised.

He was the embodiment of all his father's dreams, he was the reason he opened the womb of his first wife while she was still alive: he was the son he was always waiting for.

But his father could hardly eat on his own, let alone pay attention to him or the other children Queen Alicent had given him.

“Pass me the porridge platter, sweet Aemma.” He said to her once, pointing his blue finger at the dish he was thinking of, causing everyone around him to freeze.

He felt some kind of constriction in his throat when he saw his mother swallow this humiliation with difficulty, reaching for the platter and handing it to her lord-husband without a word.

He lowered his gaze to his plate, trying not to think about it, realising that he would like to see her comforting smile again.

He was beginning to grow impatient.

It had, after all, been several weeks.

As always when something was bothering him, he went to the only person he truly trusted.

“When will uncle Daemon return?” He asked, feigning indifference, fiddling with one of the flacons of expensive oils that had belonged to his mother.

Alicent looked at him, sighing quietly, clearly tired and embittered, probably by what his father had done.

He didn't know how he was supposed to help her, so he remained silent.

“The longer he's gone, the better.” She replied, surprising him.

“Why?” He asked, and she sighed again.

“He's a dangerous, unpredictable man. I pity his daughter. He drags her around all the continents like an object.” She said with a kind of impatience that made him unsure if she really meant what she said.

Adult people often spoke in riddles, which frustrated him constantly.

He preferred it when someone was direct.

The conversation with his mother brought him neither answers nor relief; the only person who showed interest in him was far away, and he was once again learning High Valyrian alone.

That night he prayed to the gods to help him tame a dragon and for his cousin to return quickly to King's Landing, so that she would continue to be kind to him.

The gods listened to his requests, or at least some part of them.

After a few days, Daemon, his daughter from his first marriage, Baela, Rhaena and his wife, lady Laena, reached the Red Keep.

He came to see them because he hoped to see her.

Indeed, when he stepped into the chamber, where his mother, Rhaenyra and Helaena were also present, he spotted her at once, standing behind her father's back. She was looking at Daemon, as if hoping that he would turn his attention to her, but he did not – his uncle was looking at his brother, who was holding Baela hand in his.

His only child who had a dragon.

Although no word was spoken, he understood what had happened.

She had only regained her father for a moment and lost him again.

A pleasant shiver ran through him as she looked around the room, but her gaze stopped on him when she noticed him: he offered her a sad smile of comfort, and she reciprocated the gesture.

Although everyone at supper that evening was loud and chatty, she sat quietly, staring at her plate, immersed in her thoughts. He could see that she had not eaten much; her lips were tightly clenched, her gaze fled again and again to the silhouette of her father, who was talking aloud about the magnificent mansion they lived in Essos and their desire to stay there.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the thought.

“Do you like insects?” He suddenly heard his sister's voice leaning over their cousin.

Her question seemed absurd and out of any context, but Daemon's daughter was clearly trying to focus and answer the question.

“I like butterflies. And bumblebees.” She said after some thought.

Helaena twisted in her seat, delighted, and invited her to come to her chamber later that evening so that she could see through her large collection of dried moths.

He sighed, trying to hide the unpleasant sting of jealousy that an object that raised his self-esteem had just been stolen from him.

He wanted her back for himself, so that she would say nice things to him.

He wanted her to admire him.

He wanted her to love him and cry for him with longing when they were separated.

He would never reciprocate this, of course, because these were tender, feminine concerns, but it would certainly satisfy his vanity.

He noticed, watching them from the sidelines, that a strong, cordial bond developed between her and his sister after that day: otherwise it would surely have caused his irritation, but at some point he began to see it as an opportunity.

The more she became attached to them and to the Red Keep, the more she would desire to stay with them.

To his surprise, Helaena too had begun to care that her new companion remained in King's Landing; she shrewdly tried to address the issue as they set off together to the Great Sept with their mother.

“I have no trusted lady of the court, Mother. I don't like the fact that they put things in different places than I want. They disturb my order and speak too loudly. She is kind. She always asks my opinion first before she touches me or my things. We embroider together and watch insects. I would like her to stay with me.”

Though his mother easily denied him and Aegon, to her only daughter she could not.

To his satisfaction, she turned to her lord-husband, and he convinced his younger brother that his daughter needed stability and a girl her own age as a companion.

Though reluctantly, Daemon agreed.

He couldn't say that everything had gone according to his plan: now his cousin was his sister's lady-in-waiting, spending a lot of time with her. This meant that she couldn't give him as much attention as he would have liked.

However, one day everything changed.

“Helaena said the Maester is teaching you High Valyrian. I was wondering if you could teach me too, as my father is not here anymore.” She mumbled, clearly fearing that her offer would not be attractive for him.

He sighed, pretending that her words made no impression on him.

“What can you give me in return?” He asked defiantly, though he knew he would have agreed even if she had not been able to give him anything.

“...and what would you like?” She answered question for question, staring up at him with her big eyes, playing with her fingers in a nervous reflex.

“You will obey all my orders without complaining.” He replied at last, feeling that satisfaction, not blood, was now flowing through his veins.

His cousin furrowed her brow at his words, clearly worried and concerned.

“What if you make me do something bad? Or something that will bring me disgrace?” She mumbled.

“I won't make you do such a thing. I am a man of honour.” He said proudly.

He blinked, shocked to see that she nodded at his words.

That's it?

“When can we begin?” She asked, and he pressed his lips together, struggling not to smile.

“Come to my chamber tonight. I'll draw you a map so you can get to it through a side entrance. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, or I will kill you with my own hands.”

She was clearly unaffected by his threat, because she smiled broadly, her face beaming with joy.

Indeed, his quarters could be accessed not only through a door, but also from the side of his bed: there was a small tower with stairs leading up to one of the rarely used corridors of the Red Keep.

He was worried, waiting for her, sitting over a mountain of books, whether the journey through the dark alleys of the fortress would prove too difficult for her: for some reason he was relieved when he heard quiet footsteps in the distance, and then saw her in the passage, looking up at him with big eyes.

She smiled broadly at the sight of him, apparently happy that she had managed to find the right way and not get lost; he grunted as she sat down beside him, pulling off the thin grey cloak thrown over her shoulders.

“Where did you and your father finish?” He asked, forcing himself to be indifferent – he swallowed hard, noticing with horror as he reached for one of the volumes that his hand was trembling with excitement.

He had never yet invited anyone to his chamber, much less without the knowledge of his mother and father.

It was their secret.

“On chapter twelve.” She said lightly, moving her chair closer to him so she could better see what they were about to discuss.

He felt relieved at the thought that he and Maester were already on chapter forty.

“Very well.” He hummed, pleased that he would be able to show off his knowledge and proficiency in this area.

His cousin, when her father wasn't around, proved to be a focused and curious student. She would ask him lots of questions and go back to things he had mentioned earlier, giving him proof that she was really listening to him.

He liked the role of teacher very much: he felt that it added to his esteem, while reassuring him that his time spent over the old tomes, contrary to what Aegon had said, was not time wasted.

He didn't know who he was really doing it for: whether for himself or for her. Certainly, in his own mind, he was convincing himself that the fact that he had agreed to teach her in Daemon's absence was an act of his favour, something for which she should be eternally grateful.

In fact, she was grateful to him.

He found it harder and harder to pretend he didn't see her during sparring or supper; some part of him, to his dismay, had come to the conclusion that he was enjoying her presence.

She cared for his older sister and was her faithful companion, but she also found time for him and his perpetually praise-hungry ego.

He was embarrassed by the way she smiled at him when their glances met in the courtyard or at the table: he had the impression that her eyes shone with joy for some reason, the expression on her face gentle and warm.

Kind.

He chastised himself for these thoughts and the strange yet pleasant feeling that filled his chest every time he lowered his head, stopping the corners of his mouth from rising with difficulty.

Then it was revealed that lady Laena was expecting another child, and something in her suddenly faded.

She felt less and less visible in the eyes of her father, who was far away, on another continent, while she was here, all by herself.

Looking at her and his own mother, Queen Alicent, sitting near her, he compared the shades of their hair, their eyes, the shape of their noses, hands and faces.

After thinking about it for a while, he decided that differences between them were not that great, and that if he had forgotten that she was the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce, his cousin could be the daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower.

His sister.

In truth, he was only a month older than her, but that did not change the fact that this would make him her older brother: this, in turn, would mean that since it was Helaena's destiny to marry Aegon, it would be his younger sister's destiny to marry him.

He lowered his gaze at this thought, feeling a burning red blush of embarrassment spread across his pale cheeks at the thought.

His heart thumped harder in his chest when he realised that nothing in that thought had rejected him.

But what if she didn't want it?

If she felt disgusted at the very thought of marrying him?

Rejection was something he couldn't afford.

It was safer to remain silent.

He felt his own blood under his tongue when his teeth involuntarily bit his lower lip at the word that her father wanted to take her to Essos.

“You have been away from home for too long. You should spend more time with your sisters.” He heard Daemon's voice outside her chamber door a few hours after her father had arrived in King's Landing.

Eavesdropping was not in good taste, but for some reason he couldn't help himself.

“What should I say to Helaena? I don't want to leave her.” Mumbled his daughter, clearly trying to come up with something quickly that would allow her to stay in the Red Keep.

“That you will now spend time with your true family.”

Your true family.

He didn't know why, but his jaw clenched in rage when he heard those words, a sharp pain piercing his heart, which beat harder in his chest.

And then Daemon took her away.

The first months without her presence had been the hardest for him, as he'd forgotten she was gone: he'd flipped through the books, wanting to prepare for their lessons, reminding himself angrily after a while that they weren't going to happen after all. Her chair had disappeared from the supper table, and her silhouette was not standing in the courtyard, aiming at a target with a bow.

It was as if she had never been there.

And then word reached King's Landing that lady Laena had died in childbirth.

It was a time of sadness in the Red Keep: previously Rhaenyra had mourned the death of her lover and father of her bastards, Harwin Strong; now, however, someone who was related to them all by blood, a close part of their family, had died.

He was ashamed that during the journey they had taken the whole family on to attend lady Laena's funeral, he had struggled to hold back a smile, feeling excited at the thought that the largest dragon in the world had just been left without a rider.

Although he tried to fool himself, he was enjoying not only the opportunity to claim a dragon, but also to see someone else.

The sea journey he had been forced to make, unlike his siblings, had dragged on mercilessly. When they finally reached the shore, he vomited: however, he quickly pulled himself together, recognising that neither she nor his nephews could see him in such a state.

His family were welcomed into the fortress with honours; he felt his heart pounding hard as he looked around the courtyard, hoping to see her. As he raised his head, he drew in a deep breath, catching sight of her silhouette in one of the open windows.

When their gazes met, she smiled.

Despite the fact that he should be concentrating on grieving, all he did during the funeral was listen for any sounds of the dragon that might be coming from afar and glanced at her, shocked that she seemed slightly taller to him – he also had the impression that her figure had become more girlish, whatever that meant.

When she caught him staring at her, he lifted his head up, embarrassed, pretending to look at the sky.

During the feast, which took place in one of the courtyards situated high above the sea, all he could think about was how to get her to speak to him. He did not want to be the one vying for her attention, running after a woman: this was foolish and, most importantly, unworthy of a man.

A man was supposed to be strong and proud, cold if necessary, but never weak.

Nevertheless, he longed to spend time with her, though she did not know it: she watched from the sidelines her half-sisters, embraced tightly by their grandparents, drenched in tears. Daemon and Rheanyra had disappeared somewhere, and she was left alone, not knowing what to do with herself.

After a while, their gazes met again – this time, though with difficulty, he did not look away. They continued like this for a while, until she made a slight movement with her head, as if pointing to the stone steps that led behind the wall, and then walked down them.

She wanted him to follow her.

He swallowed hard and glanced at his bored brother, who held a refilled wine cup in his hand.

“I'm going to take a walk. I have no desire to stay with these people.” He said to him dispassionately.

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

“Do what you want.” His brother replied, looking intensely at one of the servants in the distance.

He sighed silently and moved ahead, feeling his heart in his throat.

What if someone sees them?

Was this a good idea?

Maybe he should turn back?

Hundreds of thoughts beat against each other in his head, but his legs led him to the stone stairs anyway, and then down to where no one could see them.

His cousin stood by the wall, looking beyond it to the sea; her long hair was partly tied back with a blue ribbon, the rest of it was blown by the wind. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up at him and smiled in a way he knew very well.

She was glad to see him.

“I'm glad to see you, cousin.” She said softly when he stopped in front of her, as if she was reading his mind.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling for some reason that despite the cool sea breeze around them, he was hot.

“My condolences.” He muttered, reminding himself that his mother had ordered him to say it to everyone he met.

His cousin lowered her gaze and nodded, accepting his words.

“Thank you.”

They both fell silent, looking out at the sea, simply standing side by side. He was afraid that he should say something and was thinking hard about what neutral topic he could raise, when he suddenly heard her voice beside him.

“She was a good woman. She never tried to replace my mother, but she did everything she could to make me feel that she cared about me. I regret that I never thanked her for it.” She muttered, her voice breaking more and more with each sentence.

He looked at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, fearing that she would cry.

He wasn't good at consoling, so he remained silent.

“But I couldn't love her. Nor my sisters. I couldn't form a bond with them. My stepmother died, and I don't feel anything.” She said in a breaking voice, tear after tear ran down her cheeks red from the cold.

“If you don't feel anything, why are you crying?” He asked, looking ahead, straight at the setting sun hiding behind the horizon of the sea.

“Because I'm ashamed.” She confessed, making him feel a squeeze in his chest for some reason.

“You don't have to. She was not your mother, and they are not your sisters. You don't owe them anything.” He replied matter-of-factly, feeling that this was exactly what he believed.

Contrary to what Daemon had told her, they were not her true family.

They only pretended to be one.

“Who then is my family, if not my own father, his wife and daughters?” She mumbled with difficulty, as if his words frightened her even more.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering if he should say it.

“Unlike my nephews, you are a true blood of the dragon. You can decide for yourself who you will love and who you will despise.” He replied with emphasis on the last words, involuntarily glancing in her direction.

She looked at him in disbelief, her dark eyes larger than ever, as if what he was saying shocked her.

“We don't control who we love.” She said, looking him straight in the face.

“We don't control. We choose.” He finally stated and drew in the air loudly, folding his hands behind his back. “You also have to choose. If you wish, I will take you with me back to where you belong. To King's Landing.”

Her lower lip twiched at his words, as if he had stabbed a dagger straight into her heart.

“I don't believe you.”

He wanted to answer her, but he flinched when he realised that he had heard the screech of a dragon in the distance – he raised his head and followed with his eyes the small, dark silhouette flying between the clouds.

Then he made his decision.

“I will take you to the Red Keep on the back of my dragon.”

She did not understand what he meant, however, he preferred not to initiate her into his plan: she had promised to obey him, so when he commanded her to go to sleep and worry about nothing, she did so reluctantly.

He, on the other hand, set out under cover of darkness to meet his destiny.

The trip through hills full of sand and stones was difficult and exhausting, but what he saw was sufficient compensation for his efforts. Vhagar was frighteningly beautiful: she was big, magnificent, and she evidently saw in him what none but his mother and cousin could, for although she opened her maw to burn him, when he spoke to her in High Valyrian, she hesitated.

Climbing onto her back, his palms were sweaty from nerves and terror, his body trembling as he tried with great effort to reach her saddle. When he finally succeeded and lifted into the skies with her, he realised that the gods had given him a sign, revealing to him his fate.

He had made Vhagar his dragon, and in the future he would make his cousin his wife.

In that moment, as he screamed with happiness, flying between the clouds, it made perfect sense to him. He didn't see this idea as something to do with physicality, but rather the conviction that since they both held affection and respect for each other, someday they would surely be able to beget offspring together, to create a lineage they would both be proud of.

In that one moment, he felt like he was holding his destiny in his hands, only for the gods to flip a coin again.

As soon as he landed back on the ground his nephews were already waiting for him and gave him another gift, this time one he was never to forget.

If he had to explain to someone what the pain of his eye being pulled out of his eye socket was, he wouldn't be able to describe it: it seemed to him that not only he was screaming, but his whole body as well, that his fingernails would pierce the frame of the bed he was lying on, that he was about to die and would never wake up.

He feared death.

“Mother, don't let me die.” He mumbled out, choking on his tears, his hands clenched into fists on the sheets.

His mother squeezed his arm harder, giving him courage.

“You will not die, my brave son. One day we will have our vengeance.”

Though Luke had taken his honour and his face, he had gained something more: a dragon.

A dragon that no one could challenge.

He knew that what happened after he returned from Vhagar's liege had nothing to do with Daemon's daughter: he had ordered her to stay in her chamber until he came for her, and so she did.

When he walked into her quarters, she rose from her seat, her face flooded with tears.

Daemon had already told her what had happened.

“I –” She began, but he would not let her finish.

“Fly with me or stay. I won't give you a second chance to choose.” He said coldly.

He was a man of honour and he kept his word.

He was sure she would refuse.

He was sure she was a coward.

But she nodded her head.

Neither of them knew how furious Daemon had been when he and his daughter had taken to the skies without his knowledge: when, in his eyes, he had abducted her as it was in the tradition of Old Valyria for centuries, to one day make her his wife.

Lady Royce

Her father punished her escape with his silence: the very thing he knew would hurt her most. He didn't answer her letters or explanations, and for months, then years, he didn't visit the Red Keep even at the invitation of his brother-king.

She knew that he considered what she had done a betrayal, and she suffered greatly because of it.

Nevertheless, she could not lie to herself and pretend that returning to King's Landing did not bring her relief. Between her half-sisters, she felt invisible, her father's person crushed her, and now she was free again.

At least in theory.

Queen Alicent was enraged when she saw her in the company of her son as soon as they returned to the Red Keep: she considered it their act of disobedience and a reason for Daemon to take revenge on her and her children. Her husband, however, was not so harsh about their misdeeds.

“They are just children, my love. My niece can stay here as long as she wishes. My brother and his daughters are in mourning. Let her not surround herself with sorrow and death.”

Although, in fact, King Viserys was partly right, her father was not really focused on mourning, but on marrying another woman as soon as possible.

Rhaenyra.

Only then did she feel as if someone had drawn a clear red line between one part of her family and another: the one that supported Queen Alicent and the one that supported Princess Rheanyra.

She herself wasn't sure she supported anyone: all she cared about was keeping Helaena safe. She was unable to bond with Baela and Rhaena, but she treated the king's daughter like her true sister.

She was calm, quiet and kind, full of warmth that gave her a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about Aemond.” She said one day, bent over her beautiful embroidery depicting a spider. “I feel that he is retreating more and more into the darkness of his mind.”

She lowered her gaze at her words, understanding perfectly what she meant: she answered nothing, however, as her cousin forbade her to speak of anything they discussed or did behind the closed door of his chamber.

He had kissed her for the first time when they were thirteen; he was respectful and gentle when his hands cupped her soft, pink cheeks during one of their lessons in his quarters, his caress slow and warm.

He was clearly nervous and excited, his breath heavy as their skin pressed together in a wet, sticky act she had only heard about from girls older than her.

She was convinced that this gesture was not a proof of his affection for her, but jealousy that Aegon had more experience with women than he did.

Nevertheless, since then, there had been a change in him that she had not expected: he had apparently regarded that incident as a turning point of some sort.

He began to speak not of his lineage but of their lineage, not of his heritage but of their heritage.

“From now on, I will be to you like an older brother,” he communicated to her proudly, looking down at her, having long been much taller than her, “I will protect you and surround you with the care a man should bestow on a woman.”

She accepted his words with joyful disbelief, feeling her heart flutter like a bird in her chest.

On more than one occasion, she had witnessed Aegon encouraging him to join him in a brothel – according to his older brother, only intercourse with the body of a mature, experienced woman could make him a real man.

It seemed to her that her cousin was inwardly torn listening to these words – some part of him clearly wanted to prove to Aegon that he could be as good a lover as he was, but on the other hand he dismissed him, saying that he was interested in the arts of war and sword, not old courtesans.

Occasionally he would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, as if the fact that she was listening to this exchange of words made him uncomfortable; then, for a moment, the thought would cross her mind that perhaps she was the reason he was refusing him.

She realised then that there was some kind of plan in his head, a vision of which she was also a part.

She craved it and was terrified of it at the same time.

She was not a mature woman, let alone an experienced one.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw with sadness that, compared to the other ladies of the court, she still looked like a child; the delicate outline of her breasts under her gown could not compare with the full, plump shapes of the other women's chests, as much as with their wide hips and coquettish smiles.

She didn't know what to do to make the change inside her happen faster, until one day she found out that transforming into a woman wasn't as pleasant and beautiful as it might seem.

“You are bleeding, my love,” Queen Alicent told her, trying to reassure her after she woke up, all sticky from the blood leaking from between her thighs, “your flower has blossomed. It means you are fertile and can become a mother. It's natural, although unpleasant.”

“When will it end?” She muttered, twisting in her seat, already dressed in clean smallclothes, filled inside with materials that were apparently meant to stop the bleeding.

“In a few days. But it will happen again in a month. It will continue to happen for years, as long as you and your future husband do not conceive a child.” The queen explained to her.

“For years?” She squirmed, feeling that something in that thought had broken her.

She did not know why she had cried that day, lying in her bed. She resented her father that neither he nor his second wife had warned her what the woman's fate was.

She did not know that she would feel painful spasms in her lower abdomen, she did not know that the warm, disgusting liquid would flow out of her again and again, making her uncomfortable.

She felt that there was no glory in it, no reason to be proud – on the contrary, for some reason she felt an overwhelming, deep shame.

She shuddered and covered herself more tightly with a fur when she heard the door to her chamber open – her cousin stepped inside without a word, striding towards her with his hands folded behind his back.

It was the first time he had come to her, rather than she to him.

“My congratulations.” He said, stopping beside her bed, looking at her with some kind of curiosity and satisfaction.

“I don't follow.” She mumbled, surprised by his choice of words.

“Fertility is a reason for every woman to be proud.” He stated, cocking his head to the side.

She lowered her gaze, realising that he knew what was happening to her.

“I didn't know it would be so painful.” She finally confessed, wondering if he would scold her for self-pity.

He, however, was silent for a long moment before speaking again.

“That's because you're not carrying a child inside you. When you become my wife, I will see to it that you no longer suffer.” He replied at last, struggling to remain calm – she had known him long enough, however, to know that he feared her reaction.

She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

What?

“What do you mean?” She muttered without thinking, even though she understood perfectly well what he was implying.

She just couldn't believe he'd said it out loud.

She saw that he swallowed hard, struggling to keep a stony face.

“Do you wish to marry someone else?” He asked, a hint of frustration in his voice that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

She shook her head quickly, horrified at his suggestion and the direction their conversation was going.

“N-no.” She mumbled.

“Good.” He said and turned away without another word, leaving her alone with his suggestion of what he truly desired.

Despite his words, he didn't try to kiss her for a second time; apparently his pride wouldn't allow him to ask again for something that, in his mind, was no more than a naïve female fantasy.

That he was incapable of expressing and showing his feelings openly, she had known for a long time; anything that might make him be seen as weak or naive was an unnecessary risk for him.

His older brother watched him closely, mocking and commenting aloud on any behaviour he found amusing and worthy of his attention.

To her cousin, the thought that he was constantly being watched, and thus could not afford to make a mistake, was completely petrifying.

This was the reason he avoided using words; it frightened him how many undertones and misunderstandings they involved, how easily he could destroy his reputation in the eyes of others with one ill-considered sentence.

She was then left with no choice but to use her intuition, carefully observing his subtlest gestures and glances to understand what he was trying to convey to her wordlessly. It was a difficult process, because he too often did not know what his needs really were and what they stemmed from.

“I don't want to strain you. We can discuss this chapter another time.” She said uncertainly, seeing that ever since she had crossed the threshold of his chamber his figure had tensed and his face expressed cold displeasure.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in a way from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

“If you want to leave, then do so.” He replied, making her blink in astonishment.

“I just want you to rest properly.” She muttered, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

She felt around him like she was with her father, never knowing what would satisfy him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked at last, forcing the words out with some strange difficulty, as if this thought had been weighing on his heart for a long time.

She swallowed hard, completely surprised by his question.

“No. I just… I just find it hard to comprehend what could possibly please you.” She choked out with difficulty, feeling ashamed at hearing how pathetic that sounded.

She thought he would laugh mockingly at her words, but his face was completely grave.

“Your kiss will please me.” He said with some kind of regret, as if he was suffering from having to ask her for it.

It hit her that he simply wanted reciprocation when, at the same time, she was afraid that if she offered it herself, he would consider it undignified behaviour on her part.

She sighed, trying to calm herself down and moved closer to him – she saw that he drew in air loudly through his nose, as if he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

He shuddered as she took his face in her hands, exactly as he did then – her thumbs stroked his cheeks and he closed his eyelid for a moment, as if he felt relieved. She took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking and leaned in, letting their lips join in a moist, soft kiss – he surprised her when he parted his mouth and gently deepened the caress, making his warm breath fill her throat.

She closed her eyes, for some reason not wanting to pull away from him – she let his fingers run through her long, loose hair, let his hands roam tentatively over the back of her head and neck, while their lips brushed and teased each other with the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

Eventually they ran out of breath, so they broke the kiss, however, their foreheads remained pressed together.

“Leave, if you want to.” He whispered, clearly indicating that he had no intention of taking advantage of her in any way.

“I don't want to leave,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her own words, “I want to fall asleep by your side.”

“My mother would kill me.” He mumbled out, as if he was fighting the strenuous urge to succumb to her.

“Then I will leave. I don't want to be the reason for you two to disagree.” She said, stroking his cheek with her palm, trying to comfort him.

“No,” he breathed out, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her robe at her back, “stay.”

So she stayed.

There was something naïve about the way they lay far apart on his bed, the way his hand grasped hers and squeezed it, as if he wanted to find out if it was really happening.

“Don't tell anyone.” He asked, a sort of childish desire in his eye, from which her heart filled with warmth.

“I won't.”

That night it seemed to her that he didn't fall asleep even for a moment – she felt his hand run over her fingers, over her shoulder, and when he was sure she was immersed in a dream, he smoothed her cheek with his thumb.

What surprised her was that every time he did this a warm, pleasant shiver ran through her body – she wished he would never stop, because this was the first time in her life she had felt so comforted by someone.

This event had changed him; clearly the realisation that she reciprocated his affection had emboldened him in some way.

When they finished their lessons, they often lay on his bed facing each other and talked, touching each other's hands, faces and hair at the same time. Her heart pounded like crazy as his fingers combed through her curls, as his hand closed around the back of her neck, massaging it gently.

“I like the way you smell,” he said once out of nowhere, surprising her completely, “and the fact that your skin is so pleasantly soft.”

She realised he was trying to offer her a compliment – the thought of the two of them taking a walk through the royal gardens or showing interest in each other in public filled him with embarrassment, however, he had clearly found that in the privacy of his chamber he was willing to give her something he was not offering anyone else.

His words.

She smiled broadly at his confession, feeling a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen spilling over her insides like a wave.

“And I like your big hands,” she replied shyly, stroking the skin of his wrist with her fingers, “and your beautiful white hair.”

She saw that he swallowed loudly, and his lips tightened in an involuntary attempt to stop himself from showing any reaction to her words; nevertheless, his eye betrayed him – it grew large and full of something she understood perfectly.

He needed to hear that something of value could be seen in him too, including physically.

That he wasn't a cripple in her eyes.

The way he slowly leaned towards her, his lips that barely brushed hers in a gesture full of invitation, their hands that clasped in their hair seemed as natural to her as breathing – the caress of their lips was hotter and more intimate than they had ever been before, deep, filled with something she was yet to discover.

Kisses were a form of reward for them, but also some kind of consolation on difficult days; in this way, although they could not speak openly to each other about this subject, they gave each other a sense of mutual care.

Over time, although it carried a high risk of being caught, they took this caress beyond the thresholds of his room; it was enough for him to catch her in one of the less frequented corridors of the Red Keep for their brief – even rough on his side – exchange of words to end with his tongue invading between her plump lips.

He liked it when their tongues met and licked, because he was obviously aroused by how perverse and passionate it was; his healthy eye was closed when his body pressed hers against one of the cold stone walls, while their hot mouths melted together again and again.

It was a warm, wet experience, filled with their loud, raspy breaths, their hands tentatively trailing the silhouettes of their bodies, giving them only the promise of what they both desired.

In that moment, in some strange, chaotic way they were devouring each other.

Her cousin evidently believed that he did not need to explain or confess anything to her; no words of affection, if he had any for her, ever left his lips. On the contrary; as he grew taller and his physique grew stronger, so did his ego, and with it the impression that he could not afford to show what he thought was a mere feminine sentiments.

Perhaps this would have been the reason for her distress, had it not been for the fact that he paid more attention to her than to anyone else anyway; above all, to the despair of the other ladies of the court, she was the only person besides Criston Cole and members of his family with whom he spoke in public of his own free will.

He usually approached her when he had something to say to her and announced it to her as simply and quickly as possible – he would then stand erect in front of her with his hands folded behind his back and look off somewhere into the distance, glancing at her only occasionally, usually driven by mere curiosity.

“A wild dragon has been seen in the Vale regions lately.” He said to her one day, as she happened to be heading to his sister's chamber to help her change before supper. “He is said to be larger than Meleys.”

She blinked, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad – she looked around quickly, wanting to make sure no one had heard what he had said.

“Help me.” She whispered. “Please.”

Her cousin cocked his head and hummed, looking at her with his mouth formed in the shape of an o, as if he wanted to whistle in satisfaction.

He liked it when she begged.

“Hm. How can I be sure you won't use this dragon against me and my family one day?” He asked offhandedly, looking down at her, a kind of challenge in his voice.

She blinked, feeling cold discomfort in her chest at his words.

“I am your family.” She mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them – she could see in his gaze that he was thinking about something, at the same time unable to deny her words.

“We leave tomorrow, at dawn.” He finally communicated to her in boredom, leaving her bewildered.

“And the Queen and your grandfather? Do they know what you intend to do?” She asked, and he rolled his eye, clearly frustrated by her remark.

“Sheep don't understand the ways of dragons. It's beyond their comprehension.” He recognised with some kind of pride, from which she pressed her lips together to keep from expressing her disbelief.

Clearly something in the expression on her face must have betrayed her, for he looked at her suddenly with a piercing, watchful gaze, his jaw twitching in a reflex she knew well.

“Come to my chamber tonight.”

Just as she had done in their childhood days, to leave her rooms now she had to wait for the watch to change; only then would she slip out and take advantage of the moment to make her way down a dark, rarely used corridor through a side entrance to the prince's quarters.

She had no idea if anyone but her knew about it; presumably if they did, the guards thought the additional door remained locked. However, her cousin had left them open for her, and it was through these that she entered, stepping into his chamber, enveloped in the warm light of the fire.

She spotted his silhouette at once – he was sitting at the top of a long table, on which lay stacks of maps and letters, a thick, old volume in his hands.

When he heard her footsteps, he lifted a glance of his healthy eye to her, and then returned to his reading again, carelessly turning the page over.

She was not bothered by this; he was often in the habit of pretending not to see her at first. From her perspective, it was his attempt to cope with the fact that, although accustomed to solitude, he was hosting someone else in his private quarters.

She untied her cloak, placed it on one of the richly decorated oak chairs and, wearing nothing but her nightgown, took a slow, quiet step towards his bed. She knew she could do it, and that she was certain to stay with him anyway, so she simply lay back on the soft sheet and closed her eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the sizzling fire.

For a moment, all she could hear was that and the rustle of pages being turned – the smell of him and the parchments pleasantly filled her nose, calming her.

The quiet creak of wood woke her from her half-sleep and she shuddered, opening her sleepy eyes – she spotted his silhouette heading lazily towards her. His hand rose to the belt of his tunic, undoing it with the quiet click of a buckle.

“Tomorrow. You must promise to obey me. Otherwise I will not fly with you.” He said calmly, looking at her with an expression on his face that pretended to show indifference.

“I will.” She said.

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath, finally pulling the leather material off his shoulders.

She made room for him and moved sideways on the bed as he sat on the edge of it and leaned over, pulling his boots off his feet. She watched wordlessly as he did the same a moment later with his eye patch, finally throwing it carelessly onto the stone floor. He sighed and hid his face in his hand, massaging the area around his scarred eye socket in some subconscious reflex.

Stress was causing discomfort to return to the left side of his face.

“You are in pain.” She whispered softly, raising herself up on her elbow.

He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and froze in stillness.

“Let me.” She insisted, and he finally looked at her and nodded.

She raised herself up on her knees and moved towards him, sitting down so that she could see his face. He looked at her silently with some kind of melancholy as her hands gently grasped his face and her thumbs began to massage his temples.

He immediately closed his eye and flinched as her thumbs moved over his brow arches and cheekbones – he twitched when she did it the first time, but relaxed more and more with each subsequent stroke, and his face took on an expression of relief.

“I wouldn't object if you did this to me all night.” He said quietly, his eyelid still closed. She smiled involuntarily at his words, running her fingers over his forehead, nose and cheeks, going back to the beginning – to his temples and brows.

“I can.” She said warmly, but he shook his head.

“We need to rest. Come. I want to sleep.”

She nodded and held out her hand to him, shifting back towards the middle of the bed – he moved obediently to follow her and literally fell into her arms, pressing his nose against the space between her breasts.

She wasn't sure if he was able to breathe in that position, but she could see that his chest was rising and falling, so she didn't comment on it, combing her fingers through his white hair.

She knew that he was hiding from the world now: he wanted to disappear for a while and simply not be, like a small, defenceless child.

The control that he, in his mind, had over his life had a high cost that he did not speak of – it superseded any of his other needs unrelated to survival and victory, whatever that victory would mean.

While it may have seemed complicated, in fact the truth was much simpler: he was tired. It wasn't so much a physical fatigue, however, but rather a spiritual one – the self-imposed compulsion to remain silent when he was still a child was something that kept him safe, but also imprisoned him in his own head.

She mused on this as she watched him in silence, playing with strands of his long hair, feeling his body grow loose in her embrace, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily over her bare arm, his eye remaining closed.

He craved her closeness, but in more ways than one; preferably ones he could see as safe in his mind.

Lying in her embrace was such; he could just lie there and let her stroke him, listening to the slow beat of her heart. He could smell her scent and feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathing, have her to himself and know that she would fall asleep with him.

It calmed him.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened by the touch of a familiar hand – when she opened her eyes, she was in the midst of darkness. Her cousin was still snuggled up against her body, and he was obviously convinced that she was deeply asleep – it was only because of this that he allowed his fingers to travel up to her breast and squeeze it gently, as if checking to see if it was as soft as he imagined.

She couldn't stop the hot shudder that ran through her body or the pulsing she felt deep between her thighs. Other than that, she didn't move; she felt him freeze for a while, but after a moment, when he recognised that she had reacted in her sleep, he went back to stroking her plump bosom with his fingers.

A soft, shaky breath escaped her lips, her hands tightened on his back, holding him close; she felt him flinch and he froze again, taking his hand quickly off her chest.

She heard him swallow hard as she grasped his wrist and, in a gentle, slow motion, placed his hand where it had been – her fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to sink into the softness of her flesh again.

She thought it was a very intimate experience, one from which her whole body grew hot and her cheeks lit up red. She closed her eyes, hearing both of them breathe a little louder, their bodies pressed tighter together, seeking closeness.

Her wordless consent apparently made him feel bold, because he leaned forward, closing his lips around her nipple, clearly visible under the thin material of her nightgown. Something between a moan of surprise and a sigh escaped her throat when she felt him begin to suck as if he were a baby – her fingers clenched on his hair, holding him close.

“– lēkia (big brother) –” She whispered and flinched as she felt something long and hard pulsate in his breeches, pushing against her thigh.

She didn't quite understand the purpose of what he was just doing, but it was pleasant; she thought perhaps it was one of the secrets Aegon had told him about the pleasures of the female body.

She kissed the top of his head as his hand slid down her waist, slipping uncertainly under her linen shirt to finally touch her bare knee.

She felt that something throbbed hard deep inside her, that something sticky ran down her buttock to the sheet beneath their bodies.

They both began to pant as his broad hand went higher up her thigh and then to her hip, squeezing it finally between his fingers.

She shuddered as his wrist slid lower, between her legs, and his hand immediately froze – exactly like her body – when he touched her moist, pulsing womanhood.

“May I?” He asked in a whisper, still snuggled into her chest, not daring to look at her.

“What… what do you want to do?” She answered question for question, unsure of how much she herself was ready for.

She heard him swallow hard, as if he was terrified of having to answer her out loud.

“I want to give you pleasure.”

She felt her heart pounding like mad under his cheek, her fingers gently stroking his head.

She wondered if she should say it.

“I'm afraid.”

He took his hand from between het thighs at her words.

“What are you afraid of? I would never hurt you.” He assured her with a kind of surprise and regret, as if he didn't believe he had to say it.

“It's such a… private place. I…”

“I didn't mean to rush you. Forgive me. Do not be afraid.” He whispered, his voice strangely soothing, as if he understood what she meant.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled in shame, feeling that she had ruined something that could have changed everything between them.

Her cousin raised himself on his elbow to look at her, but her big, red eyes made him freeze.

“Daor, hāedar (no, little sister). Gaomagon limagon daor (do not cry).” He said in a quiet, melodious tone, his large hand gently cupping her hot cheek.

“It was happening so fast. Your hand…”

She didn't finish as he leaned over her and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. They stayed like that for a while without separating their bodies, her fingers grasping his, holding him close.

When he finally pulled away from her, his gaze was calm.

“I should have prepared you better. Explain what I want to do.” He said with a kind of weariness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

It was the first time he had spoken openly.

“Can you explain it to me now? So that I understand?” She asked, and he swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze for a moment.

He began to play with the material of her nightgown between his fingers, apparently struggling to find the right words to describe his desires.

“The source of a woman's pleasure, from what I understood from my brother's babble, is deep between her thighs. It is hidden there and must be found and caressed for a woman to achieve fulfilment.” He choked out finally, looking at her womb and hips, now hidden again under her shirt.

She twisted in her place, intrigued.

“The ladies of the court say that a man's tongue down there can perform wonders. But I don't know what they meant by that.” She said lightly.

She saw that he looked at her in shock, his nostrils twitched in a deep breath.

“You've heard about it too. From whom?” She asked amused.

He grunted and shrugged his shoulders, turning his head in the opposite direction.

“Aegon likes to brag about what he does to his whores and servants.” He muttered, feigning indifference, but his breathing, deep and uneven, betrayed him.

“Would you like to try it? That tongue thing.” He suggested suddenly, glancing in her direction out of the corner of his eye.

She drew in a loud breath, twisting in her place again, feeling her womanhood swell suddenly and pulsate around nothing at the very thought.

His mouth, down there.

“Doesn't it disgust you?” She mumbled in shame.

“You took a bath before you came to me, didn't you?”

“…I did.” She admitted, looking at him with wide eyes.

“So I can try. To satisfy our curiosity.” He proposed, apparently wanting to find any justification for what he wanted to do.

She nodded, feeling her heart in her throat, her stomach no longer filled with fear but with pure, hot excitement.

“If you don't like it, say so. I don't want to force you.” She said in a voice breaking with tension, watching in disbelief as he moved down, kneeling between her legs.

He threw her a meaningful look, in which she saw some kind of mockery.

“As if it's easy to force me to do anything against my will. Who do you think I am?” He asked with a wince, a slow, lazy movement of his hand lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips.

She had never been so exposed to anyone before in her life; she had to turn her gaze away to avoid looking at it and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. Her hands tightened on the pillow on each side of her head when she felt him gently take her thighs in his rough hands and spread them slightly apart.

For a moment nothing happened; she thought he was just looking at her, or rather at what was between her legs. She sighed and flinched, surprised when his thumb ran down the length of her opening, apparently wanting to collect what had managed to leak out of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked uncertainly, clearly not understanding if her reaction was due to discomfort or not.

She shook her head quickly, looking up at him only to close her eyes again a moment later, overwhelmed by the helpless position she had just found herself in.

She was at his mercy.

He won't hurt me, she assured herself in spirit.

He promised me that, and he is a man of his word.

This thought calmed her.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest when she heard the bed creak loudly under the weight of his body, and then his hot breath enveloped her throbbing womanhood – a quiet moan of surprise broke from her throat when she felt his slick tongue run over her flesh, causing an aggressive shiver to pass down her spine.

She didn't have time to calm down after that first, shocking sensation, and his tongue again clung to her smooth, dripping cunt, licking it like a cat drinking milk – her hands involuntarily reached into his hair and clenched on it, her hips made a motion forward as if trying to sink into his face.

“– oh – yes –” She breathed out, but it seemed to her that this voice was not her own, its tones squeaky and girlish, full of surprise.

She thought her body was on fire, arching as it rocked to the rhythm of his caresses – she heard him sigh, obviously feeling her wetness begin to run down her buttocks. His lips closed gently around the sweet spot she felt most strongly and began to suck, making her cry out loudly, throwing her head back.

“– Aemond –” She whined out pleadingly, though she didn't know what she was really asking for – all she could hear and feel were the wet sounds of slurping and licking, lazy and unhurried, full of a thoroughness that drove her mad.

As she glanced down at him, for some reason wanting to see him now, she noticed that his eyelid was closed and he was completely absorbed in his task – his head was moving back and forth, disappearing again and again deep between her thighs.

It felt like a bolt of lightning pierced her lower abdomen when she felt his tongue burst inside her body and begin to thrust between her fleshy, hot walls.

“– g-gods – gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, yes, brother, here, right here, yes –” She begged, completely losing touch with reality, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure as again and again the tip of his tongue teased a spot deep inside her, from which the tension in her loins became unbearable.

She felt that some sort of peak was approaching, that if it lasted even a moment longer, her poor womanhood would simply explode.

“– ah! –” She almost screamed out in pleasure as a convulsion shook her body – she threw her head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering, tickling wave of heat spread across her insides, flowing through her mouth, her breasts, her belly, down to her throbbing, leaking cunt.

She panted for a moment longer, wishing the feeling would never go away, until she froze powerless, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. She only looked up at him when she heard the quiet rustling of fabric, followed by quick, rhythmic, sticky splats – before she could make any sound his mouth was on hers, tasting foreign, salty and sweet at the same time.

She moaned into his throat, surprised when she felt something warm and long rub against her womanhood again and again – at first she was frightened that he craved fulfillment inside her, but contrary to her assumption, he did not try to take her. He caressed himself with his hand, squeezing his manhood at the very root, teasing its smooth tip by running it over her moist, oversensitive slit.

She murmured contentedly, sinking her hands into his long hair, letting it fall lightly against her body. Knowing that he was balancing on one hand and just giving himself pleasure with the other, she decided to help him achieve satisfaction, exactly as he had helped her.

He looked at her with his mouth wide open, breaking the kiss for a moment when he saw her slide her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing the fullness of her breasts to him. He closed his eyes and gave her a quiet little moan as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his chest, and with a gesture of her arms, encouraged him to let their bare skin touch.

“– hāedar – mmm –” He breathed out into her mouth, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, his free hand grasping her breast so that with every movement of his hips her nipple rubbed against his chest.

Her body was all flushed from what she had experienced with him earlier, and his uncontrollable, almost animalistic movements were giving her some strange kind of pleasure. She knew he didn't want to take advantage of her – on the contrary, he no longer knew what to do with the tension he himself felt in his loins and was looking for a way to take her while not depriving her of what should not yet be his.

She didn't know what he thought of it, but she let her hands roam over his bare neck and down his back under his shirt, to his exposed buttocks from which he had slipped his breeches off. His body twitched each time her fingers explored a new region of his skin that no one but himself had ever seen or felt before – the slaps of his hand became faster and harsher, his breath heavy in her throat, the bed on which they lay began to creak loudly under their weight.

And then suddenly he made a sound of strange relief, as if he had sighed deeply and was about to cry – she squealed quietly, surprised to feel something warm and sticky spill over her abdomen and thighs, realising after a moment that it was his seed.

His body fell inertly on top of her, as if what he had done had cost him all the strength he had left, and he drew in deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. She felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, pressed tightly against hers – his manhood, still twitching and pulsing, now lying between his body and hers, was nestled against her stomach.

She stroked his hair and his back, cuddling her cheek into his temple, trying to calm down with him and comprehend what had really happened: their bodies were hot and wet with sweat, she felt a drop of it run down her spine.

She had never been more exposed, but she had also never felt more safe.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything – she really wanted to, however, she feared that the barrage of words that would flow from her mouth would simply overwhelm him after what had happened.

She suspected that, like her, her cousin was in a state of some sort of shock.

She blinked and shuddered when she suddenly heard his voice near her ear.

“Forgive me.”

She swallowed hard, feeling discomfort at the words, for some reason filled with guilt and resignation.

“What should I forgive you for?” She asked in a whisper, looking uncertainly in his direction.

Their eyes met.

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn't keep my word.” He said finally, startling her completely.

“You can't protect me from lust. You can only make it a pleasurable experience for me, in your strong, safe arms.” She replied with a kind of conviction that evidently impressed him, for he remained silent for a long time, looking at her with wide-open eye.

“You don't resent me?” He muttered, and she shook her head, smiling for some reason.

“No. I am happy that we are discovering these fascinating mysteries together. I could not imagine a more beloved and trusted companion for this journey.” She whispered, and he snorted, but she noticed in the darkness of the chamber that the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Let's sleep.”

Aemond

When he woke up, the sun had not yet risen on the horizon – he always got up before dawn. The order of his day was predetermined and he didn't like anything to change his plans. First he would eat his morning meal, preferably one that would give him energy before sparring. Then he would move on to training his body, spending long hours in the courtyard with a sword in hand.

When this was behind him, he would take a nice hot bath in the privacy of his chamber, spending the rest of the day delving into old, thick tomes that smelled of dust. He was not fond of suppers with his family, for they bored him and were a time of mere, even simpering courtesy which he did not understand, he endured them, however, because he could then look at her in peace.

As in their childhood, she was sitting in exactly the same place now – opposite him, at the side of his sister Helaena, at the very end of the table.

To their right sat only Daeron.

Helaena was fond of her, because their cousin understood and respected her barriers. It was something he himself deeply valued in her – the fact that she could watch someone carefully and knew the boundaries she could not cross.

It made him, as well as his sister, enjoy being in her company – they knew they would not be surprised in an unpleasant way or put in a situation that would be uncomfortable for them.

In the case of her and Helaena, a sincere, warm friendship had grown between them over the years; he didn't mind this turn of events because he knew that his cousin didn't gossip about his sister with the other ladies of the court and that she kept her secrets, like his, deep in her heart.

He, of course, was not such a fool as to share his worries or thoughts with her, however, he would be lying if he said that he did not enjoy speaking with her, though he usually tried to give that impression.

“Will you stand to fight in a tournament in honour of our king's Name Day?” She asked him, putting her bow and arrows back in place while he sharpened his dagger, which he always carried with him.

Ever since she managed to tame Sheepstealer she has been more brazen than usual.

“Do you want to annoy me?” He answered dryly with a question to a question, not even looking at her despite his overwhelming desire to do so – her familiar scent reached his nose, making his manhood pulsate softly in his breeches.

His tongue swirling around her hard nipple, his two long fingers thrusting deep into her throbbing, hot cunt, all leaking with desire.

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine and he swallowed hard, trying to keep a stony face.

He heard her laugh behind him.

“No, but my wreath will have to fall to someone else. Pity. Perhaps I'll give my blessing to your uncle.” She said lightly, and he struggled to hold back the grimace of displeasure that pressed against his lips.

Gwayne was fond of her, and his affection was reciprocated – when he came to the Red Keep to visit his father and sister, he often chatted with her during supper and teased her in ways that drove him mad.

Usually, however, one sharp look from him over the table in her direction was enough for his cousin to turn to Helaena and pay no further attention to his uncle.

“Do what you want.” He burbled coldly, and she sighed heavily.

“Just don't be surprised.” She said disapprovingly, but before he had time to answer her anything she turned and disappeared into the depths of the castle, leaving him with her words and the discomfort he felt in his heart.

Did she really have to give anyone that fucking wreath?

On the other hand, what would it look like if she refused to give it to anyone?

What would his mother have said?

Whether he wanted to or not, he had to watch the next day as his uncle, proud in his armor, sat on his gray steed, holding aloft his lance, on which his cousin had placed a wreath of field flowers.

He looked ahead as she sat back between him and his sister, pretending not to feel how she pressed her arm against his. His gaze involuntarily fled to the side, to her hand, when he felt her little finger brush over his.

He swallowed hard and crossed his legs, shocked that this public expression of intimacy aroused him.

Did the people sitting behind them see it?

Rumors about the nature of their relationship had been spreading around King's Landing for years anyway.

His fingers involuntarily began to pluck the cuticles around his fingernails in some subconscious, nervous gesture full of excitement, the source of which he did not understand.

That night he took her for the first time.

At the beginning, it was simply a coupling similar to others they had experienced so far, but more fiery and loud, full of his frustrations and her assurances that she was faithful to him.

But then, instead of just rubbing his long manhood against the space between her thighs as usual, he decided to experience the warmth that was hidden deep inside her.

“– now I will receive my wreath – the only one that matters –” He exhaled into her ear, involuntarily pushing the tip of his length, swollen with pain and desire, against her moist, pulsing opening.

She let out a moan full of surprise and effort, her nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

“– Aemond – we can't – we can't –” She mewled and gasped as she felt that with a steady, slow thrusts he began to force his way into her hot, fleshy interior.

“– fuck –” He mouthed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had to, because he couldn't bear it any longer.

“– just let me –” He asked in a breaking voice, and she complied with his request.

She stared at him with her mouth wide open, trying to catch her breath as he began to move inside her, sinking deeper and deeper into her body with each deep push.

He pressed his forehead against hers, panting along with her, and stroked her sweaty cheek, looking at her with desperation, wordlessly asking her for forgiveness.

He expected it to be pleasurable, but didn't know it would be that much – her insides were warm and moist, enveloping his manhood on all sides, while squeezing him so tightly that he had trouble taking a deeper breath.

He had the impression that he was in some kind of trance, and the sounds that left their throats were not their own – their moans were high-pitched, similar to crying, her fingers clenched on his buttocks, her hips seeking rhythm with his thrusts, rocking back and forth.

“– I need this – do you understand? – I need you –” He mumbled in pain, imposing a faster, sharper pace on her, finally filling her completely.

His hips pounded against her buttocks with loud, wet splats, her moist, hot walls throbbing around his manhood, clenching against it in a way from which he felt like howling with pleasure.

“– here – please, here, brother –” She sobbed, arching her back so that the entirety of his manhood brushed against the upper wall inside her hot, spasming cunt.

“– here? – here it feels good? –” He panted with excitement, grabbing her hips in his hands, deliberately teasing the area she had showed him now – she threw her head back, her girlish cries of pleasure had to be enough of an answer for him.

“– yes – g-gods – ah –” She whimpered out, clearly experiencing it as extremely as he was, wriggling under him in pure ecstasy.

He just stared at her as his thumb ran over her swollen, plump lower lip, as her breasts bounced lightly with each of his deep, sharp stabs, until he finally felt what he so craved approaching.

An almost animalistic sound of relief came from his throat as he reached his peak inside her – he heard her sweet sound of pleasure and felt the shudder that shook her whole body, her leaking womanhood squeezing his cock greedily, sucking his seed deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her and snuggled into her warm, sweaty skin, letting their arms embrace their figures tightly. They were both panting and quivering, feeling each other more than ever, wanting to stay that way.

As one.

He had promised himself, however, that he would never beget a bastard, and having his cousin drink moon tea was not an option for him.

He was not going to kill his own blood, his own heritage, his own child.

Then he decided that the time had come.

“Marry me.”

[lunavrse]

（ OSCAR PIASTRI ）✶ ── APRIL FOOLS

✶ summary : some people ship you and oscar and some people don't even know that you're aware of each other's existence so your latest post really gets people riled up.

✶ category : smau

✶ notes : heyyyyyy. short little smau to get back into the swing of things, maybe I'll post more, probably not. this is for the anon who asked me about this months ago. i'm so sorry, I hated all the other versions of this and finally got some inspiration the other day and now i'm running with it. times and dates? irrelevant! spelling mistakes? (mostly) intentional !

Liked by bestfrienduser, logansargent, zendaya and 5 649 263 others

oscarpiastri at long last love has arrived

View all 7 826 comments

user somebody shoot me, like right now

user what. the. fuck.

user happy April 1st!!! hahaha!!!! so funny!!! very practical jokester!!!

user the way they look at each other 😭😭😭

user shayne and courtney core

user sobbing, nobody talk to me right now

user congratulations 🎉

user love that i clicked on your post notification and immediately got attacked😊

user please say this is for a movie

user idk, these look a little TOO real

user to LAURYN HILL??!?!! oh I'm kms if this isn't real

user i think i missed a few chapters...

user honey, the book wasn't even published

user what a beautiful couple 😍

lando you guys are unbelievable

user oh so it's fake, thanks for the confirmation

lando where did i say that?

user oh so it's real❓

lando didn't say that either

user you're a horrible person and not even your good looks can save you

lando so you think i'm good looking, thank you😏

user oh who is you

user oh Oscar's decided to become an actor, good for him

user even you don't believe that

user SOMEONE SAY SIKE RN

user real or not, they look so good together

user WHAT DO YOU MEAN YN LN AND OSCAR PIASTRI NOT ONLY KNOW EACH OTHER BUT ARE MARRIED??!!??!???

user life is not real

user craziest crossover

user please god, let this be real, i need this

user I really want to be it to be real but this literally looks like a movie and yn is an actor

user a movie with their friends and family?

user well, you can't really see their faces and movies always need extras

user not even joking, i genuinely dropped to my knees in despair

user the mclaren admin is going through it in the comments and they're so me

user real ones know oscar's been dating someone

user BUT HER?!??!! how did he keep that a secret

user genuinely don't know, if i was dating yn, i'd be singing it from the rooftops

user guess that's why they're married and you're alone

user 😦 too soon

user i basically stalk him and i didn't even know

user uhhh that's not...

user going in for more kisses?? destroyed me

nicolepiastri Welcome to the family(officially)! We're so excited to have you.

user everybody pack it up, nicole just confirmed it

user i won't believe it until april 3 bc she loves to go along with a joke

user i'm gonna cry

user this is how I'm gonna announce my relationship, no soft launching, just pictures from my wedding

user am i being punked rn

hattiepiastri finally oscar's done something useful! so happy to be able to call you my sister

user mans is literally a f1 driver but rn his biggest accomplishment is marrying yn

user well yes!

user this is so sweet

user ugh i love the piastris

mclaren my favourite actress marries my team's driver and i'm not even invited to the wedding 😭 why do bad things happen to me😭😭

user atp i need to go to the oscar piastri and tom holland school of manifestation

user i get tom because of the obvious but why Oscar?

user because i need to end up with matthew gray gubler or i will die

user so real of you

user added context bcz op's not adding it but there's a youtube video of a younger oscar mentioning that yn is his celeb crush

user WHAT? so nobody was going to mention this to me??

user i can send you the link?

user SEND ME THAT! SEND ME THAT!

user me too!!!

user me 3

user here's the link for anyone who wants to know : https://youtu.be/5cfbKEK5gzU?si=HwTsDDBAjF8stXly

user you're a doll !

user this is the hardest of hard launches😵‍💫

user ugh i love seeing gorgeous people together

user i would kill for this type of wedding

user I swear if they've linked up just to do this prank, i will commend them for the dedication to the bit but i will also lose my mind

user i won't believe this until i see a marriage certificate

user what in the snowbunny mind control 🫣

user very on brand i fear

user lord please, when will it be my turn🙏🏼

zendaya beautiful bride, beautiful wedding, beautiful day

user i just know she slayed

user call it a jlo concert ticket because I'm not buying it🙂‍↔️

user nae nae i know this is you

mclaren wow, so nobody told admin that oscar was dating yn and is now *checks notes* MARRIED to her... fake! ALL OF YOU

user don't worry admin, we all know how you feel

user swear i would've told you had i known🤞

user I feel like I'm in a mass hallucination

user no shade, it's all that shrooms n weed.

user you saying no shade doesn't mean shit and also doesn't mean you can publicly air out my business

user and yet i said what i said.

user best believe i'll be at your door in ten minutes

user oh oh oh oh oh shiver me timbers, girl please, you not gon do nothing.

user OK EVERYBODY GO HOME, APRIL FOOLS IS CANCELLED

user sure i knew they knew each other because they're celebrities and yn attends races when she can but this is insane

tomholland2013 you're joking

user we know you were there!!!

user is this gaslighting? am i being gaslighted right now? cause there's absolutely no way

user no, that's what your boyfriend does to you everytime you catch him cheating. this is real, keep up.

user UNPROVOKED?!?

user everyone on twitter who said i was crazy for shipping this was gagged🙂‍↕️

mclaren even lando knew??? omfg they hate me

lando what's that supposed to mean?

user that you're not very reliable and you can't keep secrets, pick one🤷‍♀️

lando er, don't you mean or?

user no.

user say sike right now, i'm begging you

user what is up with all of my favourite internet people and announcements on april fools??? like do they want me to go insane 😭😭

user okay

user they definitely posted this and immediately turned their phones off

user can't say i blame them

user I'd do the same

user saw a tweet about this and had to come running to see if it was true

user I'll believe it’s a prank until they both confirm it every day for the next few years

user "everyone who thinks this is real is so dumb" ok shut up, either it's not real and you can appreciate the prank or it is real and you're still not better than everyone else

youruser and oscarpiastri has added to their story.

user: see, you could convince five of your friends to get dressed up so i don't even know what's going on right now

user: like i said, unless there's a marriage certificate, i do not believe it😪

user: i won't believe it and i won't accept it

user: this is such a great bit, next april fools' joke should be pregnancy!

lunavrse: i think i did a good job at making the dresses blue but don't look too closely 🙏

user: a day i will continuously try to erase from my mind

user: my sister's gonna be devastated by this, can't wait to tell her😈

user: you're actually married? diva down✊😔

bridesmaiduser: ugh we look so good 😊

user: women>>>

user: what a beautiful venue

user: I’m going to carry on with my day and pretend this isn’t true

user: so jealous

bridesmaid2user: so lucky to be apart of your beautiful day❤️

user: this makes me feel so lonely, but congratulations on your (real) marriage

user: just cause you rented a venue doesnt make you married!!

user: you're lucky you got to her before me

logansargent: with the amount of alcohol available I'm surprised i didn't forget my own name

user: insert I don't need sleep, I need answers meme

tagged : oscarpiastri, officiant

Liked by oscarpiastri, bestfrienduser and others

youruser yes we are actually married. sorry to everyone who wants him, the boy is mine💋

View all 2 328 comments

user i feel like I've been stabbed

user i've been stabbed, this is worse actually 😀

user you're taking the piss

user can we talk about how good you look!!!!

user To Japanese denim?!!??! OH😭

user never dedicating that song for NO ONE

user especially not for a man😔

user right😭😭

user sooo happy for you guys... but seriously, on the phone that i pay for is crazy

user i know that man don't play about you

user me and pookie

user girl what❓ your man stay playing in your face

user glad this wasn't a prank, genuinely happy you guys are together ❤️

user girl, the boy in question said he sees god in your eyes, you won

bestfrienduser guys this is a joke, she's actually married to me and we just had oscar fill in for the prank

youruser you play too much

user you know I'd actually believe this

oscarpiastri yeah absolutely, thanks for letting me be apart of the special moment🙏

user i've had a few days to come to terms with this and i still can't believe this is real, like this is the timeline im in 🤯

user reacted '👍🏽' to your message

user this took me out

user real

user now you're just flexing on us and i don't mind it🤷‍♀️

user Oh how I love this song

oscarpiastri i only want you, can't even think about anyone else

youruser i'm obsessed with you.

user how i want my man

user may a love like this find me

user okay, you've convinced me, congratulations on your marriage🫶

user still don't see a marriage certificate 🥱

user ITS REAL?!?!

rachelzegler wait-

user just opened this app btw

oscarpiastri my wife everybody!!!

youruser my husband!!!!

user ofc he's a wife guy, love that 🤭

zendaya they're so in love it's sickening

youruser nawtt the woman who gushed about how in love she is with her partner only yesterday, unprovoked mind you

user real lover girls🙂‍↕️

zendaya and i stand by my words

user okay, i checked out the wedding officiant's page and it seems legit, they're actually married you guys

user sometimes you really just have to say damn and scroll

charlesleclerc oh my god you guys, I thought this was just for the bit, can't believe that was a real ceremony

user you're not funny, the jokes over😶

user Ariana Grande mention🚨🚨🚨

oscarpiastri has added to their story.

user: you're not special, i also see god in her eyes, in fact i cry because she's so beautiful

user: you're so real for this

user: i believe this how every man should think about his wife *olivia wilde nodding gif*

user: and i was right

youruser: still can't believe i get to wake up next to you

oscarpiastri: best feeling in the world

user: yeah, I'd be bragging about the fact that i married her every chance i get

user: you know, you're actually kinda funny sometimes. catches me off guard

user: drop the manifestation technique king🙏

user: you're the only man who deserves rights

and also my boyfriend

user: she's so gujdehnht. you're so lucky

user: wishing y'all a lifetime of happiness

user: Oscar how could you do this to me? this was supposed to be us ever since we locked eyes in a mall that one time. I don't know how you could betray me and just go on your day like what we had didn't matter.

user: life is so crazy, one day im shipping you and the next you're married

user: saw the interview, read the article and I'm still shocked

youruser has added to their story.

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part II

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. gun/physical violence, blood, dead bodies, etc), very vague indication of past sexual assault, additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

A/N: thank you guys so much for all the love you gave the first part, it means so much to me 🥺 Hope you enjoy this chapter too (Y/N and Jungkook bicker for like half of it 💀)

<< previous part || masterlist || next part >>

It was supposed to be simple. 

You kill Jungkook, breaking up the alliance between the Lees and the Jeons, blame his murder on a rival mafia, and then be on your merry way back to your father’s home before you could be caught up in the chaos you’d have started. Sure it hadn’t been the most complex of plans you’ve come up with, you hardly had the time to map out a plan like that anyway, but sometimes simple was all one needed. 

Unfortunately, this had clearly not been one of those times. 

The problem was Jungkook. Your first husband had been an idiot and completely fooled by your featherbrained facade, so much so that even after you’d stolen the gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the chest he’d stared at you like you’d grown two heads. He just couldn’t comprehend the fact that a seemingly frivolous girl could have the courage to pull the trigger. Even after what he’d tried to do to you. After he almost-

You felt a shudder sweep across your spine.

But Jungkook was different. He had been assessing you the second you appeared before him during the wedding ceremony and, even though he had seemed to take in your carefully crafted performance, his gaze still refused to complete its assessment. At first you thought it was just lust -most men in the mafia couldn’t seem to be rid of that tenacious emotion- however, the lack of sexual initiation on his part despite being alone together in his room made you realise that perhaps Jungkook was a lot less like the mafia leaders you had grown up with than you realised. 

For one, he was scarily observant, and it was this skill that had ultimately led to the downfall of your assassination attempt. 

A huff escaped your lips at the thought, your hands continuing to expertly manoeuvre two pins inside the lock of the door you were currently crouched in front of. You had stayed sat on Jungkook’s bed the entire night, too wary to even attempt sleeping in the bedroom that was entirely unfamiliar to you. You half expected Jungkook to sneak into the room while you were out cold and enact a fitting revenge; you’d be unable to even blame him, you’d tried to kill the man after all. But Jungkook hadn’t left the mystery room all night, only emerging once the clock had struck 7 in the morning to wordlessly grab a black coat from the top of his dresser and disappear behind the front door with nothing but a single, hasty glance in your direction. 

Your brow had raised as you watched him get into his black car and drive off through the window, wondering how he could just leave you unattended in his home after the threat you had dropped near the end of your conversation earlier. Sure he probably had people monitoring his house at all times, but there was still a lot you could get done in front of people that wouldn’t suspect the girl with fluffy dresses and doe eyes to be much of a threat. 

Luckily for him though, you were beyond tired, and that meant that his absence was just a window of opportunity to get some actual rest without the constant fear of his retaliation keeping you awake. So following a long yawn, you had naturally felt yourself drift towards the bed, eyeing the soft duvet and fluffy pillows sleepily. But then, before you could lose yourself to the comfort of his mattress, your curious gaze had slowly wandered to the door Jungkook had disappeared behind last night and, next thing you knew, you were crouched in front of its gold lock and jabbing two pins into its keyhole. 

Your focus snapped back to the door before you as a familiar click sounded from the lock, causing it to swing open just a few centimetres. You pocketed the two pins, muttering a small “finally...” while your fingers wrapped around the gold handle. But before you could push it open, the muffled sound of an object dropping suddenly startled you. You whirled around, eyes immediately scanning the bedroom with intense precision as your hand grabbed the closest thing to you: a vase. Had someone managed to get into the room without you knowing? Perhaps you weren’t as observant as Jungkook seemed to be, but you’ve never been so absentminded that you could’ve been this caught off guard-

“Oh my god,” you gasped abruptly, a recollection surfacing as you quickly placed the vase back on the bedside table and scurried over to the closet. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten something so important… She must have been waiting in there the entire night.

You hastily threw open the closet door, gaze scanning the space until it finally fell on a small shadow peeking from behind the white and fawn island. The black shadow stood still for a moment, as if identifying the intruder, before the familiar cat sauntered out of the small space, black fur gleaming under the light. She looked up at you with an expression that eerily resembled a scowl. 

“Hi Persilla,” you cooed, crouching down to run a hand apologetically through the creature’s fur. Persilla evaded it at first, almost punishing you for forgetting her in the small, dark walk-in closet for the entire night, but eventually she gave in, purring as she brushed her soft tail against your still bare legs. While you could understand being stuck in a place like that for hours might’ve been slightly uncomfortable, she really had no right to act like that after how damn hard it had been to have her smuggled into Jungkook’s house without alerting anyone. It had been a huge risk, one that you might have a little trouble justifying, but you swear there was just something calming about her presence and you needed that desperately, especially in such a foreign place. 

“I failed to kill him,” you frowned, watching as Persilla’s feline eyes raised to watch you, “which means we’re going to have to stay here a little longer than I thought.”

You pulled yourself from the floor, shifting your focus back to Jungkook’s mystery room as you felt a pang of irritation hit you. You needed Jungkook dead, the delay in his death getting in the way of everything you’ve been working towards. Yet here you were now, stuck in the house you thought you wouldn’t be spending more than a night in. 

You cautiously walked over to the door you’d lock picked earlier, taking special care not to step on Persilla as she skittered between your feet, before grabbing the handle and pushing it open. The room turned out to be a seemingly simple office, which you found unsurprising for the most part. There was a wall full of books on one side, a glass cabinet of liquor wedged between its centre, while another wall was made up entirely of glass that showed off an enormous portion of Jungkook’s estate. It was the large desk to your right that really caught your attention, the sight of a map sprawled over its smooth surface particularly piquing your interest. 

You walked towards the glass cabinet first, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to pour yourself a drink, before you walked over to the desk and glanced at the map curiously. Persilla jumped onto the surface, circling the piece of paper like a predator surveying its prey. 

“It’s a map of the North,” you noted, taking a sip of the drink in your hand momentarily as you recognised the illustration instantly. You’d spend months studying a similar map back home before marrying Jungkook after all.

Handmade lines ran throughout the northern portion of the country, separating the territories run by different mafia leaders. You recognised Jungkook’s territory first, one of the bigger ones in the region, while Taehyung’s was right next to his, both of which were detailed with the locations of different landmarks: docks, hotels, residential areas, etc. You noticed that the other territories hadn’t been labelled like that, with the territory above Jungkook’s labelled “Park Territory” simply containing one or two locations and the territory labelled “Min Territory” containing no locations. There was a region above those two territories that hadn’t even been labelled at all, similar to your own map of the North back at home. 

“Aside from Taehyung’s territory, Jungkook doesn’t seem to know much about the northern region. I guess we’re similar in that aspect,” you muttered, speaking to Persilla as if you were giving her a report of the current situation. She turned towards you, tilting her head for a moment before she nudged the corner of the paper with her paw. You narrowed your gaze at the action, deciding to flip the paper. To your surprise there was another map, this time illustrating the southern portion of the country; the one where your father’s territory, the Lees, was situated and where you’d grown up your entire life. 

You smiled at Persilla, scratching under her chin while she purred in delight at the attention. What would you do without her?

It was surprising to see this map so much more detailed than the first, you thought, taking another sip of the whiskey in your hand. While Taehyung’s territory had been the only one littered with details in the northern region, all the territories in the South were full of details upon details. You could make out each one labelled with its respective mafia leader, a number of important locations, and even predictions about possible actions each leader might take in the future, all of which you could confirm to be highly accurate.

You flipped the map back to how it had been initially, gaze raising to move onto scanning the rest of the room while Persilla dropped to the floor quietly.

“How could Jungkook know so little about the northern region, yet so much about the South?” You thought out loud, tracking Persilla’s movements as she began pacing around the room. He was clearly great at collecting intel, the amount of information he had on the southern region was evidence of that, yet the North, his own region, was practically blank aside from Taehyung’s territory. Having grown up in the southern region yourself, you knew it better than the back of your hand. So if Jungkook had grown up in the North, how could he know so little about it? Was there some kind of history between the mafias in the North? 

Like your thoughts, you began absentmindedly drifting towards the enormous bookshelf, fingers brushing against the hardcover spines. 

If there really was history between the northern mafias, then knowing that history could be useful. Once you killed Jungkook and blamed his death on Park Jimin, there would be war between the Jeons and the Parks, and since the Kims and Mins are allied with the Jeons and Parks, respectively, it would be a full on war of the North. It’s that kind of instability you were aiming for, but knowing the more personal history of the northern mafias might help you create further tensions between the alliances, making things even more unstable. It would be perfect; the messier the better. That’s what your ultimate plan called for. That’s how you’ll finally-

You suddenly came to an abrupt stop, your fingers freezing as they came in contact with a particular book. It was a hardcover, just like the others, entirely black aside from the title, which had been written in bright gold, and the off-white pages. 

Persilla was back to skittering between your ankles once again, as if sensing the change in your thoughts. Her soft, black tail brushed against your bare legs as you delicately brought out the book with both your hands, wide eyes scanning it almost in disbelief. 

The Choice of a Nation.

It was the book that had changed your life. A fictitious book about a protagonist that lived in a world of human rights, justice, and structure. A world where everyone, more or less, was defined by their achievements and hard work rather than who they were born to. 

Reality was far from that. It was an enormous country cut up into territories based on which mafia leader ruled it. It was having to grow up watching innocent people be slaughtered because of petty disputes between said mafia leaders. It was watching people from mafia families be automatically rich and educated and powerful while people born to those under their rule automatically be poor, uneducated, and stepped on again and again and again. You were taught that this way of living was normal, that it was the only way of living in this world. 

Reality was something you’ve always found difficult to come to terms with because of this, because despite being taught the normalcy of such a way of living, it never seemed right to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of people’s entire lives being dependent on who they were born to, something that wasn’t in their control. If you were born a servant, you and the rest of your generations would stay servants forever. If you were born a mafia leader, you and your future generations would stay in power forever. Your sentiments made you feel alien when you realised no one else around you seemed to share the same thoughts, so much so that you started wondering that perhaps you really were being too unrealistic. 

But then came The Choice of a Nation, a book that introduced to you concepts like governments and elections and courts. It was all entirely fiction, every term having to be explained in great detail to be understandable, but all that mattered to you was that it was doable. Having different levels of governments, having a justice system that judged everyone fairly no matter who they were, and having the people decide who they want leading them. It was realistic. 

And you’re convinced that the mafia families knew it too, because despite its fictitious nature, the book was immediately banned the second it was published, while its author had been killed just as quickly. You yourself had only gotten your hands on the book out of sheer dumb luck. Distantly you wondered how and why Jungkook had this copy. 

After that you had become dead set on making the book’s world a reality. But in order for things to go as you’ve planned, you need things to be unstable, because unstable things are weak. The South has always been like that, with mafia leaders constantly at each other’s throats. You doubt any of them even know what the word ‘alliance’ even means. It was perfect for you. 

The North, on the other hand, was a bit different. There were two alliances and the most northern region was a complete mystery to you. At first, you were stumped with how you were going to weaken the region, but then the opportunity had presented itself when your father had announced your hasty marriage to Jungkook. And once again, it was perfect. 

All you needed was Jungkook to be dead, and the rest would fall in place just like you’d planned. 

A meowing noise suddenly sounded from your feet, causing you to look down and find Persilla standing on her hind legs, her front paws brushing against your bare shins repeatedly. Her impatience was clear as day, making you smile. 

“You’re right, that’s enough snooping for today I think,” you nodded, running a hand over her small head while the other clutched the book firmly, “you deserve some expensive salmon for being such a good girl.”

As if she understood your words, Persilla dropped to the floor and purred, rubbing her furry body against your ankle. You gave the room one last look, as if expecting to find something else worth surveying, but ultimately decided you were way too tired from your all-nighter to continue on. 

-

-

-

At this point in his life, Jungkook could say with certainty that he was a pretty patient man. He wasn’t born with the trait, if anything impatience seemed to have been stitched well into his personality the second he’d entered this world. But, over time, he’d learned to get rid of the pesky trait and replace it with the much more effective and fruitful quality that was patience. 

Yet, not even all those years of cultivating the characteristic could have prepared him for how late Kim Taehyung was. 

Jungkook had been standing at the West docks, hands in the pockets of his long, black coat, since 8:00 AM in the morning, waiting almost 4 hours for his friend with furrowed brows and an unimpressed frown. He’d left the house as early as appropriately possible, partly because of your presence and partly because of the urgency in addressing the dock’s issue. Now it was almost noon and Taehyung, who’d promised to be here by 9:00 AM was still nowhere in sight. 

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he felt the ocean air breeze through the nearly black strands of his hair. Taehyung being late had given him more time to think about earlier this morning, when he’d shot you a glance before he was out the front door. You looked like you hadn’t slept a wink, which Jungkook could relate to, but he supposed that was for the best. You’d threatened to kill him at the end of your conversation last night, so having you sleep deprived would probably work in his favour. 

Not that you could really do anything anyway. Jungkook had made sure to set guards in every entrance to the kitchen and stripped the house of every weapon that wasn’t locked in a hefty safe. There was no way you could get your hands on any kind of gun or knife, so he was pretty confident that you couldn’t be a threat to him at the moment. Though, the memory of your fiery eyes from last night had seemed so determined…

“What are you smirking about?” Taehyung asked as he strolled along the boardwalk, making his way towards the younger man. 

Jungkook’s scowl instantly returned, causing Taehyung to raise his hands in surrender, “it took Chaewon and I a whole hour to get Suho to bed, who’s also sick by the way. Cut me some slack, man.”

“I told you guys to stay over at my place and not some hotel,” Jungkook chastised, feeling bad for the little guy. He made a note to send some sweets to their hotel room when he got back, “the maid could have helped you guys out.”

“The newlyweds deserve to have the house to themselves,” Taehyung waved him off before he smirked, “besides, I didn’t know how freaky you guys were going to get and I couldn’t risk Suho hearing, he’s way too young for that stuff.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, motioning for Taehyung to start following him. They started walking along the boardwalk, Jungkook’s hands still shoved into his coat’s pockets while Taehyung’s were covered in black leather gloves. 

“Okay,” Taehyung said, “I’m just going to ask one question, and then we’ll drop it and you can explain this whole dock’s situation to me.”

That earned him a raised brow, but the lack of the younger’s refusal spurred him on. 

“What do you think of her?”

Jungkook didn’t answer for a moment, mulling over his reply before he finally answered. 

“She’s fine.”

He didn’t know why he wasn’t telling Taehyung the truth about you, about how your entire ditzy personality was a front and about how hellbent you were on killing him to get a divorce. Maybe it was because he didn’t really see the need to. Jungkook had concluded that you were only trying to kill him because you wanted a divorce, allowing you to go back to whichever boyfriend was waiting for you back in the south. 

“Your words are saying she’s fine, but your face is saying you’re mad,” Taehyung noted with a brow raised. But Jungkook waved him off, ready to end this conversation and get onto more important business. 

“Anyways, as you know, the Parks decided to attack the West docks last week,” Jungkook began, pointing towards his left to show Taehyung the damage sustained. One of the enormous warehouses, which collectively formed a neat line leading farther than his eye could decipher, had caved into itself, its walls charred almost entirely. The two warehouses by its side seemed more salvageable, with only a wall or two affected by the evident fire that had taken place. Construction workers could already be seen surrounding the area, hard at work to replace the damaged structures. 

Taehyung nodded as he took in the scene, “an attack at the docks… they’re checking to see how strong the Jeons are at the moment.”

“They’re doing it because they want to know if they can take over our territory.”

That was the standard protocol after all. When a mafia attacks another mafia’s docks, it’s usually because they want to test how weak or strong they are and whether they can take them over or not. The fact that the Parks pulled something like this right after their alliance with the Mins was no coincidence to Jungkook. 

But to his surprise, Taehyung paused, as if mulling over Jungkook’s words. He watched Taehyung’s gaze drift over to the vast sea on their right, a contemplative look shadowing over his eyes before they flickered back to Jungkook. 

“Is that really what you think Jimin is doing?” 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowned, “this is the textbook procedure for taking over another territory.”

When Taehyung didn’t answer him, Jungkook placed a hand in front of his chest, blocking his path so the two could stand facing each other as they spoke.

“I’m just saying,” Taehyung finally explained, “it seems a bit out of character for him. Wasn’t he always the one that was going on about how dumb it is to want to take over other territories instead of cultivating your own?”

Jungkook scoffed, “yeah, in university, which was years ago. Jimin has changed since then.”

Taehyung’s lips formed a grim line at the animosity in his voice. 

“Look, I know you both-”

“No,” Jungkook cut him off quickly, knowing exactly where this conversation was going, “this isn’t the hatred from what happened years ago talking. Jimin has changed, and I have the evidence to prove it.”

Jungkook turned around to resume his earlier path, Taehyung walking slowly behind him as they passed by the workers sighing in relief at the cool breeze of the ocean and large ships anchored alongside the piers. In a matter of minutes, Jungkook had led him to the entrance of an enormous warehouse. Taehyung’s brows furrowed when Jungkook turned around to face him, a grim expression washing over his strong features. 

“When the Parks attacked the docks last week, I managed to prevent them from seizing control of it by bringing out some old blackmail. Obviously I didn’t think it would hold them off for long if their plan really is to take over my territory, but I didn’t expect them to retaliate so soon,” Jungkook explained, “nor did I expect them to retaliate in this way.”

He turned back to face the warehouse's door, hand wrapping around its handle, “the night before my wedding, I was called to the docks because some of the worker’s had found something in this warehouse.”

Then he turned the handle and pushed the door wide open, revealing its inside.

“This is what I found.”

It was awful. 

The entire warehouse was full of dead bodies, some thrown haphazardly on the ground while others were thrown over the equipment spanning the room. Taehyung could make out bodies of men, women, and even some children -he couldn’t look at them for too long without thinking of his own son- all of which had clearly been killed in varying ways. Some looked like they had been burned, while others looked like they’d been thrown into a blender. Being in the mafia, Taehyung was no stranger to blood and gore, but this… this was too much, even for him. 

But then his gaze caught onto a wall in the far corner of the warehouse, particularly the sight of dried blood smeared against the grey metal. He took in each stroke of red, processing each letter it had been made to resemble until he could read what had been written. 

“‘We’re coming,’” Jungkook read out loud, keeping his stoic gaze fixed on Taehyung. 

He shook his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, “I knew Yoongi was brutal, but I never could have expected he’d be capable of… this.”

Jungkook’s gaze drifted around the room, grimacing at the scene before him. 

“Jimin and Yoongi clearly aren’t who they used to be,” he concluded, looking towards Taehyung for confirmation. Thankfully, Taehyung nodded this time, gaze becoming hard as he agreed without protest. 

“Well, they’ve warned us that they’re coming,” he said, gesturing towards the bloody message, “what are we going to do about it?”

Jungkook motioned for Taehyung to follow him back outside, where the air didn’t smell like death and the sights didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“I’ve scheduled a meeting with one of the unaffiliated gangs located in the West in about an hour. As long as we pay them well, they’ll do just about anything for us. Having extra manpower should tip the odds in our favour. Not to mention, I’ll make good use of the Lees.”

Taehyung nodded as he watched Jungkook close the door of the warehouse, “are you going to contact Jimin first?”

“No,” he shook his head, beginning to walk back to the parking lot alongside Taehyung, “I’ve had a headcount done and it doesn’t seem like any of the people in the warehouse were one of ours. I think the Parks were just trying to send a message to scare us.”

“I’ll get a headcount done for my people too just in case,” Taehyung said, to which Jungkook agreed. 

Once they had made it back to the parking lot, Taehyung turned to face him.

“I was thinking of heading back to my territory tonight, since I have a few things I need to take care of,” he explained, opening the door of his bright orange car before leaning against it casually, “but Chaewon wanted to have a late lunch or dinner with the bride and groom before we left. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jungkook’s interest piqued as a thought suddenly came to mind. This would be a good opportunity to assess how you and him were going to act like a couple in front of others. If the two of you failed, it would be fine since it was just Taehyung and Chaewon, two people that he trusted with his life. Then you and him could learn from the experience and hopefully get it together before having to make any public appearances. 

“Does 6 work?” He asked, to which Taehyung nodded. 

The two then exchanged quick goodbyes, Taehyung explaining that he should probably get back as soon as possible to get things in order, before Jungkook watched as he got into his car and drove off, standing for a few minutes until someone came to stand behind him. 

“Sir?”

He turned to find a man bowing in his direction, waiting for permission to speak. Jungkook motioned for him to go on, already getting an idea of what this was about. 

“Our informant within the Lees just contacted us,” he explained, “he said that Lee Y/N’s father believes his daughter to be a frivolous and naive girl, her sole purpose being to marry someone that will benefit the Lees.”

Jungkook nodded at the news. So you had been telling the truth when you said that you’d fooled everyone, including your father, with your performance… Distantly he wondered why you would decide to resort to such an act. 

“Have there been any talks of betraying this alliance?” Jungkook asked, to which the man shook his head. 

“The informant said there were none. Lee Y/N’s father seems dependent on this alliance to protect himself from neighbouring mafias. The South is quite unsettled in that aspect.”

“I see, and have there been any talks of Y/N having some sort of significant other in the Lee territory?”

The man seemed to hesitate for a moment, “the informant said that there weren’t really any talks of that… but he did mention that before your marriage, when Lee Y/N was still living in the Lee territory, he’d accidentally overheard a hushed phone conversation she’d had in her bedroom. He couldn’t make out what they had been talking about, but he was able to confirm that the voice on the other line was male. The informant hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but since you’re asking now, he decided it would be safer to let you know just in case.”

It could have been anyone, hell, you could have been talking to a relative or something, but Jungkook’s mind went straight to his initial theory. It made sense, especially considering you wanted a divorce so badly. He couldn’t really think of any other reason besides your heart already belonging to someone else… even though you were his wife. 

“Sir? Was there anything else?” The man asked, causing Jungkook to reel in his scowl.

“Contact Lee Y/N’s father and schedule a meeting with him as soon as he can,” Jungkook said, “that’s all, thank you.”

The man bowed, instantly scurrying away from sight to get to the assigned task, while Jungkook turned to start making his way to his car. 

For some reason, his mood had suddenly soured. 

-

-

-

“So we finally get to meet the famous Y/N.”

You smiled shyly as you walked into the grand dining hall, automatically taking in the spiralling chandelier, marble floor, and dark brown dining table filled with formal decoration pieces. Only after this assessment did you let your gaze fall on the two sitting on the dining chairs; the first one you already knew to be Taehyung, who was dressed in a rich grey suit, while the other was a woman -you automatically assumed she was Taehyung’s wife considering the maid had told you you’d be dining with the two today. 

She had been the one that had spoken, but the first thing you noticed when your eyes landed on her was that she was gorgeous. Her straight, long black hair and hazel eyes sparkled under the glittering light of the chandelier overhead, while her dark maroon dress fit elegantly into the rich ambience of the room.

As she stood from her seat, you felt yourself automatically tense. Back in the South, the wives of mafia leaders were always vicious and constantly at each other's throats, a reflection of their husbands’ animosity towards each other. Now that you were married, you supposed you’d have to be subjected to the same, but the only difference was that your ditzy facade would bar you from being able to fight back. Whatever Taehyung’s wife threw at you, you’d have to take it. 

But after she made her way towards you, her actions as smooth as silk, you were surprised when she pulled you in for a quick and formal embrace. 

“The wedding was absolutely beautiful,” she praised, even the flow of her voice silk-like, “and of course your dress, it was exquisite! You must tell me the designer you went with- or perhaps it was all just your figure. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

For a moment all you could do was stare at her; this woman… she was being so… nice. Too nice, if you were being honest. It was a little unnerving, instantly making you sceptical of her intentions. Perhaps the wives of northern mafia leaders were more cunning in the way they sniped at each other? They greeted each other politely during occasions, but behind the scenes they would attack each other to obtain what they wanted? But then again, what could anyone possibly want from you? To them you were just some featherbrained girl that dressed like a fancy pastel tablecloth. 

You’d decided to still dress the part this evening, with a fluffy light pink dress that fell right at your knees and a matching silk ribbon tied into a bow pulling up half your hair, even if you didn’t know for sure how much Jungkook would have revealed to Taehyung. You had the feeling that Jungkook wouldn’t tell him anything, since it would work in his favour having the least amount of people knowing, but you’ve also heard how close the two men were so it wouldn’t entirely surprise you if he had.

Taehyung certainly was staring at you like he knew your secret. Unlike his wife, he stayed seated at the dining table, offering you a polite greeting from there instead, but you could recognise the calculating nature of his gaze as clear as day. He was assessing your every movement as you interacted with his wife, which made you straighten up. It wouldn’t be the biggest deal if he did know, because who would believe him if he went around spreading that kind of news, but if he didn’t, then you would have to up the quality of your act. 

“Has Jungkook told you anything about us?” Taehyung’s wife asked as she took the seat next to her husband once again, while you decided to take the seat across from her, “ah- who am I kidding? You’ve only been here a night. I’m Chaewon and this is Taehyung, he’s the leader of the Kims.”

You nodded, making sure to keep your voice light and airy, “you’re pretty.”

She tried to hide it well, but the comment had Chaewon’s eyes flickering to her husband for a moment. It was better that you started dropping a dumb comment here and there to really seal the ‘dumb as rocks’ trait. 

Chaewon quickly recovered from the surprise, letting out a breathy chuckle, “you’re sweet, but you’re so pretty yourself. I love the light sparkles you’ve added to your lids, it’s such a subtle but dainty thing.”

Her tone was so formal that you couldn’t tell if she was passively mocking you or not. You would’ve preferred she just pull a gun on you or something; it would be way less confusing than sitting here and trying to read between the lines of her words. Confrontational individuals were dangerous, but individuals who planned their strikes in the shadows were the real threats. You’d know that best.

At that moment, before you could reply with an even dumber comment, the sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention. You turned just to catch Jungkook closing the door behind him, his hair slightly damp, likely from a shower, and dressed in a simple black collar shirt tucked into matching black dress pants. He paused at the doorway, scanning the room for a moment until his eyes dropped on you.

Your brows furrowed when he held your gaze for a second longer than normal, a hidden question in your expression. He looked almost thoughtful, an idea clearly waltzing through his mind, before he finally started making his way towards the three of you. 

You thought that was the end of the odd moment, and that Jungkook would finally initiate a conversation with the other two sitting at the table as he pulled out the chair next to you. But just as he was about to settle into the soft cushion, he stalled for a second, turned to face you…

And then placed a quick peck on your cheek.

You froze, shock making your limbs rigid as you used every bit of your self control to stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the action. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Jungkook apologised as he casually plopped down into his seat, gaze fixing on the couple before you. 

But Chaewon smiled, a graceful hand going to her chest. 

“Aww look at how flustered she looks, aren’t they just adorable, Taehyung?” She said with a smile. Your hands instantly went to your cheeks, annoyed to find them burning underneath your palms. 

Before you could think much of it though, the servers started spilling into the room to place steaming plates of food before you all. This evening’s menu seemed to be seafood themed, with plates of crab, lobster, and shrimp filling the initially empty surface of the dark dining table. It made sense to you, considering almost half of Jungkook’s territory bordered the ocean. 

Once the plates had been placed, a server stepped beside you, bringing out a bottle of red wine to pour into the empty glass beside your plate. But you brought up a hand to stop him. 

“Not a fan of wine, Y/N?” Chaewon asked as she noticed the gesture, and once again the ambiguity in her formal tone made it hard to tell whether she was mocking you or not. 

You shook her head in response, “I don’t like alcohol, it tastes gross.”

Yes, ditzy Y/N didn’t like alcohol, but the real Y/N was seriously craving that expensive whiskey you knew Jungkook had stashed in his office at this very moment. He clearly had good taste, it was a shame you’d had to drop a gram of lethal toxin into the bottle before you’d left the room and passed out on Jungkook’s bed for nearly two hours. You scowled inwardly as you remembered how much more you could have slept had it not been for the maid who had woken you up to give you a tour of the house and then helped you get ready for the early dinner you and Jungkook were supposed to have with Taehyung and Chaewon. 

“I apologise ma’am, is there anything else I can interest you in instead?” The server asked, moving the bottle of wine away from your glass. You mused over your answer for a moment, before you smiled up at him.

“I’d like some banana milk, please.”

Once again, Chaewon subtly threw an unreadable look towards Taehyung, but this time she wasn’t alone as Taehyung and Jungkook each threw their own odd looks in your direction at the wildly childish choice. Back when you first started acting naive your reaction would have consisted of an intense feeling of embarrassment washing over you, but now the others’ reactions only seemed to amuse you. Although, you were inwardly groaning at how gross having seafood alongside milk was going to be. But the show had to go on, didn’t it?

Taehyung cleared his throat when the server returned with a wine glass filled with banana milk -you had to pinch your arm to stop yourself from laughing at that- before he turned to face Jungkook, eager to break the awkward silence that had ensued. 

“I hope you both enjoyed your wedding present, Chaewon spent so long on making that gift basket I thought it was going to be for your one year anniversary,” he joked, causing Chaewon to playfully slap his shoulder. 

“I just wanted it to be nice,” she defended instantly, “we’ve known Jungkook for years, seeing him get married makes me feel like a proud older sister.”

It was such a contrasting sight seeing two mafia families be so fond and at ease with each other when you’d grown up seeing the southern mafia families at each other’s throats constantly. Chaewon seemed so comfortable here, and even though Taehyung was mostly quiet -you were starting to think he was trying to decipher the relationship between you and Jungkook with the way he kept staring back and forth between you two- even he didn’t seem to be guarded despite being in another mafia leader’s territory. 

“We enjoyed the basket, thank you,” Jungkook said, bringing your focus back to the conversation. You watched him lean back in his seat as his gaze drifted to you, the ghost of an amused look haunting his features, “the champagne particularly was quite the ice breaker.”

You’d tried to kill him using that bottle and yet here he was practically mocking you about it not even 24 hours later. You threw him a sweet smile, as if you were reliving a fond memory, hoping he would pick up on the hidden glare in your gaze. But that only made his grin widen. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Chaewon clapped, not seeming to pick up on the tension between you both, “I wasn’t aware of your distaste for alcohol though, Y/N. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind in the future.”

You faced her with what you hoped was a grateful smile, “it’s okay, I really liked the scented candles.”

It had actually been Persilla that had been obsessed with them, the vanilla scented one seeming to be her favourite. 

The dining room was mostly quiet following that, the four of you finishing up your food in a comfortable silence. Inwardly you were gagging at the combination of shrimp and banana milk you’d decided to torment yourself with. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, every few minutes or so you’d catch Jungkook trying to suppress a sly grin, the man being the only one in the room, to your knowledge at least, who knew the reality of your predicament. You scowled, annoyed by his satisfaction until an idea came to mind. 

Well, you could always hit two birds with one stone. 

You reached over your plate to grab your glass of banana milk, bringing it towards yourself to give the impression that you were going to drink from it. But at the last moment, you let the bottom of the glass catch on your plate, causing the entire thing to tip from your fingers. It clattered onto the table, splashing all over Jungkook’s plate and seated form, making him flinch. 

You instantly gasped dramatically, hands going to cover your mouth and eyes widening as you squeaked, “I’m so sorry!”

With Taehyung and Chaewon’s focus shifting to the spill on the table, the roll of Jungkook’s eyes went unnoticed by them. 

“It’s okay, it was only an accident,” he forced out, pushing his chair away from the table’s edge and widening his thighs to evade the rest of the milk. You had to hide your smile behind your hands as you watched the no doubt cold milk seep into his pants. 

Taehyung picked up the box of napkins, which had been near his plate, and held it out to the younger man, causing Jungkook to stretch over the table to receive it. But just as Jungkook grabbed the box, you noticed Taehyung’s brows suddenly furrow, his eyes seeming to stay fixed at a particular spot on Jungkook’s neck. 

You followed his gaze curiously. The first few buttons of Jungkook’s black shirt had been undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone and chest, but as Jungkook stretched you noticed the fabric shift to expose more of the area, which you realised was covered in red patches that looked a lot like… hickies. You and Taehyung weren’t the only ones that caught this as you noticed Chaewon smirk, her gaze travelling between you both. 

Jungkook himself was the last to notice the stares as he pressed some tissues against the wet material of his pants, most of which was prominent on his lap. Yet when he did notice them, even you knew that Taehyung and Chaewon’s questioning looks wouldn’t allow for him to get out of this without an explanation. 

You expected him to wave them off with a lame excuse anyway, like it was a rash or he’d burned himself somehow. You could call Jungkook many things, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that enjoyed making suggestive jokes or conversation. Nor did he seem like the kind of guy to divulge in his sexual escapades. 

But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead he paused, similar to earlier when he had entered the room, and seemed to think something over. Then his gaze dropped on you, and the mischief in his eyes gave you the odd feeling that you should prepare yourself for what he was about to say. 

You should have listened to that feeling. 

Jungkook broke his eye contact with you, his lips twitching into what suspiciously seemed like a smirk, before he turned to face Taehyung and Chaewon. 

“I guess Y/N got a bit carried away earlier.”

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped open as Chaewon gasped, her hands instantly going to her chest as if she couldn’t believe it. From your peripheral vision you could make out Taehyung slumping against the back of his chair, as if he had finally given up on trying to figure the two of you out. 

“Y/N! I would have never guessed you were the freaky type,” Chaewon laughed, her gaze seeming to take you in a different light. Your hands curled into fists under the table. 

Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing by dropping a comment like that, and you were far from stupid enough not to see it. By insinuating that there was a more suggestive side of you, he was slowly starting to break down your performance of an innocent girl capable of doing no wrong in the eyes of others. 

You’d promised to kill him, and now he’d seemingly decided he wanted to kill the image you’d spent years cultivating. 

You took a deep breath to calm yourself as Jungkook’s hand hooked under your chair to drag it towards him, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulder when he was close enough. Even in the midst of your subdued anger you noticed just how close the sharp cut of his jawline was in this position, and not to mention the tiny mole under his bottom lip that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“It’s okay, princess,” he said, sounding sweet but you knew it was meant to be mocking, “you don’t have to be shy in front of them.”

You were going to kill him. You were going to shoot him so many times that by the time you were done with him he was going to look like a giant block of swiss cheese-

“Well, we should probably get going,” Taehyung said suddenly, his eyes focused on reading something on his phone before pocketing the device, “I think Suho is starting to get fussy again, plus we should get going if we want to get back home before it gets too dark.”

Taehyung offered a hand to Chaewon to help her get up from her seat, a classy smile gracing her lips as her gaze met yours, “that’s our son by the way. You must meet him the next time we meet.”

“I would love to. I love children,” you said with a tight smile as you and Jungkook got up from your seats, exchanging polite pleasantries all the way to the front door.

“You know, that’s not very surprising to me,” Chaewon commented while Taehyung looped an arm around hers. You waved to each other with smiles, watching him guide her into an orange car before driving around the fountain and disappearing through the tall gates. 

The second the front door closed your smile dropped, replaced by an annoyed scowl that you threw in Jungkook’s direction. He regarded you as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know about the North, but in the South we have this thing called personal space. You should try it out some time,” you said, to which Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen a married couple have personal space? Really Y/N, must I explain the birds and the bees to you?

You huffed as he walked past you, climbing up the stairs casually while you started following behind him. 

“Why does it even matter if people know how dysfunctional this marriage is? We’re married, how is that not enough?”

It really did not make sense to you why he was so dead set on selling this image of a perfect marriage to others. Back in the South, there was not one marriage a mafia leader was a part of where it wasn’t in complete shambles, and that was very public knowledge to everyone in, and even outside of, the territory. Yet, that didn’t seem to affect the level of control or power the southern mafia leaders had. So why was Jungkook making it out to be such a big deal?

But the question stopped him in his tracks, causing him to turn around on the stairs to give you an incredulous look, as if what you had asked was almost alien. 

“I don’t know how it works in the South, but in the North it very much matters,” he said slowly, gaze fixed on yours, “we must present ourselves as perfect in every aspect of our lives, or there are a number of enemies that would have no problem taking advantage of even the most miniscule flaw.”

You scoffed, “that’s dumb.”

Jungkook turned away from you, not bothering to comment on the mindless remark, as he continued to resume his path up the stairs. When he finally made it to the top and walked up to his bedroom’s door, he pushed it open and walked inside. 

Your breath instantly stalled as you followed behind him, gaze darting around the room quickly to see if Persilla was anywhere in his sights. You knew you didn’t need to worry, Persilla was a master of remaining unseen, she’d managed to hide from everyone in the house when you’d been living in the South with your father after all. You’d even opened the door to the balcony slightly, allowing her to roam outside freely if she wanted to, so she might not have even been in the room anyway. You exhaled slowly, successful in convincing yourself that the little black cat you’d grown to care for and love would be fine. 

Jungkook’s breath, on the other hand, came out as a low huff when he noticed the balcony door ajar. He walked over to it quickly, closing it before giving you a chastising look. One you ignored obviously. 

Instead you casually turned away from him to enter into the bathroom, grabbing a few makeup wipes before returning back into the bedroom and plopping yourself down on the fluffy duvet of the bed. You began wiping off the various light sparkles and pinks that softened your face, as if you were taking off a doll-like mask. 

“You’re an annoying little thing, aren’t you?” He commented as he watched your nonchalant demeanour. 

Then it was your turn to watch him disappear into his closet for a moment, the muffled sounds of clothes moving around reaching your ears, before he emerged in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black short sleeve t-shirt. 

But you particularly noticed his right arm, which was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos ending just above his wrist. The ink travelled over the smooth ridges of his skin, taut from the firm muscles underneath. Your gaze immediately dropped to the small trash can next to the bedside table, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, as you focused on throwing the used wipes into the bin. 

You then leaned back on the mattress, arms holding you upright, trying to get your focus back on track, “I like how forgetting to close the balcony door annoys you and not the fact that I want you dead.”

That made Jungkook smile, amusement clear in his eyes, “I’m still standing here though, aren’t I?”

Your reply was quick.

“It won’t be for long.”

“Right,” Jungkook nodded, his words laced into a patronising chuckle, “but while you’re working on that, I need you to actually act like my wife. We’re lucky Taehyung and Chaewon didn’t notice anything, the public won’t be so inattentive.”

You tilted your head, “yes, I wonder what the public would have said about the hickies on your neck.”

Jungkook mirrored your movements, the edges of his lips twitching.

“I think they would be glad to be under the impression that we’re hard at work trying to produce an heir.”

“That’s only if your side piece stays quiet.” 

“Careful, Y/N,” Jungkook tutted, “you sound almost jealous.”

“Jealous?” You repeated incredulously, sitting up straighter with an evidently offended expression, “your girl is sleeping with a dead man walking. Is that something to be jealous of?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, continuing to direct an amused gaze in your direction, before he turned away, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, “relax, princess, there’s no other girl. I just went hunting earlier and got a few mosquito bites. Nothing more.”

“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” you shrugged before falling back onto the mattress, the softness of the duvet making your limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. The position caused your dress to ride up to the middle of your thighs, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. He looked away when he realised he was staring, choosing instead to focus his gaze on the bright moon outside the window. 

“We may be as far from in love with each other as the moon is to the earth, but I still won’t risk messing around with others outside this relationship,” he said. There was a pause after his words, as if he were expecting you to say something, but you let the silence ensue. There really was nothing you wanted to add anyway. 

A noise made you lift your head, allowing you to see Jungkook unlocking the door to his office before he turned his head to you, “just get used to whatever happened at dinner today. There will be much more where that came from in the future.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the room while locking the door behind him. Jungkook immediately walked over to the cabinet, pulling out a crystal glass and a bottle of whiskey to place them on the desk.

The loud clink of the glass against the wood of the desk made Jungkook frown, annoyed by his getting annoyed at your lack of reply. Yet, it was evident that he was indeed irritated by it. Of course you wouldn’t agree not to mess around with others, you had your ‘boyfriend’ waiting for you back in the South. 

He certainly wasn’t messing around with anyone. After meeting Taehyung at the docks, Jungkook had gone to meet with the leader of an independent gang in the West, who, to his distaste, was a huge fan of hunting. So naturally they’d met in a forest to hunt for a few hours, before Jungkook had convinced the man to be at his disposal. Jungkook has always been prone to mosquito bites, but that day the mosquitos seemed to have taken a particular liking to his neck and arms, despite what Taehyung and Chaewon might have thought. 

It didn’t matter to him, though, that you had a boyfriend. Yes, it really didn’t. He was just annoyed because if someone found out about him, then Jungkook’s reputation would take a hit. The news would spread like a wildfire, and the outcome would be far from good. 

He didn’t even know how well you could hide a secret like that. What if you slipped up somewhere? What if the dude did? It would be a disaster. 

Jungkook placed his glass down, the whiskey momentarily forgotten as he grabbed his phone and leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen in thought. This was for the good of his leadership, not anything personal. Yes, that’s right. 

Mind made, Jungkook quickly dialled a familiar number, waiting barely a single ring before a male voice sounded from the device. 

“Hello sir, was there something I could help you with?”

Jungkook’s fingers wrapped around the glass on his desk, “tell the informant I want him to investigate Lee Y/N’s room at the Lee mansion. I want to find out everything we can about the man Y/N was talking on the phone with before our marriage, and if there’s anything else unusual I want to be informed of it as well.”

“Yes, of course sir,” the voice said immediately, “I’ll let him know as soon as possible. Is that all?”

Jungkook paused for a moment, thinking over the question. This had been an impromptu call after all.

Stuck in his thoughts, he brought the glass into his hand, swirling the liquid in it for a second before taking a modest sip.

His reflexes acted before his mind did; the second he registered the hint of a metallic taste he lurched forward, spitting the liquid back into the glass in a matter of a second. Even with that little exposure he could start to feel his tongue burn slightly, causing him to instantly open the drawer of his desk and grab a water bottle. The water soothed his mouth as he quickly swished it between his teeth before spitting it out and repeating the process a few times.

“Sir? Sir?! Is everything okay?” The voice rang from his phone, Jungkook almost forgetting about him for a second. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, it was nothing. That will be all, thank you.”

He ended the call, grimacing in discomfort at the feel of his slightly sensitive tongue against the roof of his mouth. So you’d managed to find a way to sneak into his office. He shouldn’t have been very surprised by that, you seemed to have a talent for getting into places where you shouldn’t. 

Jungkook sighed as he eyed his liquor cabinet, realising that he’d have to throw it all. But as his gaze raised, it seemed to catch an empty slot in his bookshelf. Curiously he walked over to it, hand hovering over the hollow space between a book about war tactics and a book about his family’s history. 

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You’d obviously taken one of his books, but whether it was for casual reading or for something more he couldn’t tell. 

He ignored the pang of pain that rippled throughout his mouth as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, his gaze falling back to his desk. With Jimin’s attacks, he had a lot of work he was going to have to do, and now seemed like the perfect time to get that done considering he was not going to go back into his bedroom, which you had taken over. 

He sighed. 

It was going to be a long night. 

-

-

-

You remained seated on the bed as you watched Jungkook lock the door behind him, leaving you alone in his bedroom once again. You hoped he enjoyed the nice present you’d dropped into his liquor bottles this morning, because you were just about ready to be shipped off back to the Lee mansion and watch your plan unfold in the perfect way you’d outlined it to. 

The sound of something tapping against glass caught your attention, causing you to turn towards the balcony. It was hard to spot her in the dead of night, her black fur blending into the dark so well that her feline eyes were the only thing about her you could really make out. But even then, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Persilla trying to get your attention from outside of the balcony door. 

You stood, sending a wary glance in the direction of Jungkook’s office’s door, before slowly pushing yourself off the mattress and making your way towards the glass. You paused in front of it for a moment, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes. Your hands blindly felt in front of you, moving erratically in the air for a moment before you could feel the handle between your fingers. You pulled on it, hearing the sound of the door opening as well as the feel of the fresh airy breeze on your face.

The second you felt Persilla’s small body walking between your feet, you pushed the door close, sighing in relief when you opened your eyes. 

You crouched down to pet Persilla’s head, scratching against her chin when she purred delightfully. It was only when she moved her head upwards, showcasing her collar, when you paused, your gaze catching onto something white wedged between the sleek leather and her furry neck. 

“Do you have something for me, Persilla?” You asked, fingers pinching the thing, which you realised was a folded note, and bringing it out of its confines. You unfolded it, eyes widening after scanning it and recognising the familiar strokes of black pen on its surface.

It’s done.

We should meet soon.

~ H

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Also Jungkook when he finds out about Persilla: 🧍‍♂️

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

���� Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 19

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

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

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, emotional constipation, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: it's been a while, so i'd like to acknowledge this ask, the lovely comments i got from it, and this ask, because they were really sweet and really motivated me to finish this. the chapter feels a bit aimless because its a filler chapter, so i would love to know how you all feel about it. if i find people are not very interested, i might just do the big time skip and end this story, so please consider leaving a comment/reblog | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @astrogirl01

"Kepus."

Daemon looks over his shoulder, finding Rhaenyra strutting over. Her violet eyes were not on him though, but on the blood wyrm sprawled on his belly yet again. Caraxes recognizes her and huffs smoke through his nostrils when she is upon him.

Rhaenyra knits her brows and prince steps aside, allowing her to pet his mount. "I did not think it was possible for a dragon to appear as such, much less a dragon as high and mighty as Caraxes."

Daemon does not speak. His face remains stoic but Rhaenyra knows better than to believe he is unfeeling. Still, she decides to linger in his silence. She ceases stroking Caraxes when he does.

He turns to her; she looks concerned and sad and it makes his chest tighten. He knows his instant recognition of it is borne from familiarity— familiarity for you emanated such emotions. He mumbles, "do not be so worried."

A line forms between Rhaenyra's brows. Part of her wants to snap at him— of course she would be worried! She wants to thrash her grievances out and tell him he ought to be glad she was worried about Caraxes, about him; it was never something he afforded her, not in the way she would have wanted. Her pride reigns her back from doing anything however.

Daemon witnesses the inner turmoil seeping on her features. Try as she may, she was not a difficult read. It was clear his sentiment was not appreciated. "I don't mean that I don't want you to care."

Rhaenyra opens her mouth, but no words come out, as she was not expecting such a response. Mockery? Something akin to it? Yes. But not that.

Daemon stares at his niece, brows raising at her shocked expression, "I do not want your youth and beauty to be wasted."

She purses her lips. Earnest. Her uncle was earnest. Her lips curve into a soft frown. His wife has made him soft. Her belly bubbles with feeble jealousy.

He shifts in his spot, their arms brushing against each other's as they turn to pitiful Caraxes. He links his hands together, "would you do me a favor, my girl?"

Rhaenyra's nostrils flare faintly. Am I your girl?

"I am to leave soon."

Her brows furrow, "what?"

He shifts again, "I cannot remain merely watching as Caraxes worsens day in and out."

"But I am to be married in three days!" Her lips stiffen, "will you not stay three days for me?"

He raises a brow "what use am I on your wedding day?"

Though he says it plainly, she hears it laced with vitriol, "to support me? To be there for me?!"

Daemon chuckles, genuinely endeared by the sentiment, "you need not your uncle's support on your wedding day."

She does not recognize his endearment. She scoffs, "you've made me come here to ask me for a favor, yet you m-"

"Lykirī," Daemon chortles, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, "I did not say I was leaving before your wedding." Calmly.

She stiffens.

He smirks, pulling his hand away, "I was merely explaining, my absence would not be so substantial if I we-"

"What do you want?"

Daemon watches her tap her foot.

"What's the favor?" she motions with an impatient gesture.

He stands still for a moment, building the nerve to say it as plainly as possible. His voice betrays him with a random voice break, "m-y wife." He clenches his jaw. Gods. He can hear his own desperation.

Rhaenyra is offended by his aching, or rather, she wants to be. She was unsurprised that whatever he needed had to do with you, yet, it still went down her belly horribly. "What of her?"

"Last time I left... much of her was lost..."

She frowns in remembrance.

"... much of us."

Her reaction is involuntary. She scoffs and raises her brows, "do you forget, she wrote to you and you never once responded?"

Daemon's jaw sets. He slowly shakes his head, "I do not forget." He turns back to Caraxes, rubbing his side, "I shudder to think my penance is at the peril of my mount."

She stiffens, unexpecting another... earnest response. She nibbles her lip as guilt tightens her chest. Rhaenyra never believed Daemon was heartless, yet to see him so haunted... so vulnerable— "was it not you who said we carve our own destinies?"

He does not look at her. He hums, "and did I not carve out this demise myself?"

She watches him slowly turn.

He purses his lips, waiting for a response.

Rhaenyra shakes her head, "no. It's not like you made both your wife and your dragon sick."

Daemon chuckles and shakes his head, "you are kind to me."

She huffs through her nostrils. She thinks about his words for a moment then suddenly tenses, "wait. Are you telling me she is with child again?"

Daemon stiffens. For a moment, he wants to make her believe it, that his wife has not rejected any and all of his advances, but as he sees her horrified expression, he realizes she must think him villain, that he's had his way with you because he could, because it was easy. He clenches his jaw, "no." He wipes his face, "I simply want someone to look after her upon my leave."

Rhaenyra slowly tilts her head.

"My madness forthcomes if she withers because of my absence," he mutters lowly, turning back to his dragon.

"She is daughter to the Hand," she crosses her arms, "she is well looked after."

He chuckles dryly, "yes, oh I do so trust my wife's well-being with that old cunt." He shoots Rhaenyra a withering glare.

"She is sister to the queen," she raises a brow and crosses her arms, "you'd be wiser to have gone to her. I am outranked."

"And Alicent is far weaker to him than she," he narrows his eyes, "besides, I come to you because it is you I rest my confidence in," he gives her a solemn expression, "and you alone."

For a moment, Rhaenyra is satisfied. She basks in the thought, but it is soon not enough. She takes the opportunity to spur him on, "what of her twin?"

Daemon tenses, "what of her damned twin?"

"I'm sure if you wrote to Ser Gwayne, he—"

"Yes, and I'm sure you know how little my patience is."

"Well," she looks off and shrugs, "if you wish to surely see that you-"

"What do you wish me to say?!"

Rhaenyra pauses.

"Is it my tears you thirst for? Or you want me to beg?"

Her jaw slowly clenches. Perhaps.

"Or do want me to admit you that you were not my first choice, girl?" Daemon tilts his head as he looks upon her.

Her lips part.

"I asked Laenor first for he is her friend," he explains, sparing none of his vexation, "they're the same age, so he to her is like that fucking brother she so fucking deeply misses, Rhaenyra," he seethes, "is that what you wish me to say?"

Her expression hardens.

"You would be glad to know your promised is a loyal thing, Naturally, he agreed, and naturally added that if his princess told him otherwise, he would do otherwise."

Rhaenyra looks away, feeling in the least bit gladdened.

Daemon watches her aimlessly scan the room.

Caraxes rolls over, finally on his feet. He immediately is met by Daemon, who coddles him and sighs when he nuzzles into his chest. He spares Rhaenyra a glance, "doesn't feel good, does it?"

The princess would have flared at the words had her iciness not been shattered by the dragon's frailty. She huffs and rapidly shakes her head, "what do you want me to do?"

Daemon places his palm on the dragon's snout, turning to her as Caraxes leans into him.

"Shall I write letters to you everyday regarding her conditions?"

A line forms between his brows. He places the hand he had on his mount on her shoulder, "let her keep her peace... do not let anyone rob it simply because I cannot safeguard it."

Rhaenyra gazes upon her uncle. Her brows now match his, tightened with a weight of emotions they could not so simply name. She swallows the lump in her throat and lowers her gaze, "ao jorrāelagon zirȳla." You love her.

It was not a question, yet Daemon hums, "bona ñuha ībyr ōdrikagon." That my bones hurt.

She looks up at him, eyes beginning to water, "skoro syt..." Why...

Her uncle captures her chin and brushes it gently.

"Skoro syt gaomas tolvys vestragon naejot henujagon nyke?" Why does everyone seem to leave me?

"Eman daor geptot ao," Daemon shakes his head, "ñuha egros iksis aōhon." I have not left you. My sword is yours.

"Ossēnagon nyke lēda ziry pār," she snaps, pulling away from him. Slay me with it then.

"Rhaenyra-"

"Enough," she raises a hand, "I've heard enough."

He does nothing but clench his jaw.

She scratches her eyes, "rest assured that any who dare deturb your lady-wife's peace, mine own and my husband's dragon shall bedash their corpse."

As quickly as he takes a breath of relief, just as quickly does Rhaenyra walk off. Daemon only watches, though part of him did not want her to leave him so angry.

Daemon remains in the pit, fussing over Caraxes to the keepers, until supper nears. He leaves to join you, luckily spotting you just outside your niece's nursery.

Helaena is in your arms, asleep it seems. You spot him as he approaches, offering him a soft smile, "I'm just going to set her down."

Daemon notices there were flowers in your plaited hair. You were surely in the gardens with Aegon... and by extension your wards, but he trains his focus on your face. He opens the door for you.

"Thank you," you mutter, walking in.

He follows you towards Helaena's cot, watching as you set her down and tuck her in. The locks by your ears spill over your face. As you straighten and push your dark hair back, he wishes that he could have been the one to do so.

You smile at him again, "she nearly stood up today."

Daemon smiles back, eyes trickling down your form. Color has found its way back to you, to your clothes and your face. Today, you wore green, but nothing slimy and greedy like the color of your house. Twas taffeta in a freshly-grown-leaf green, embellished with silver lace that embraced your form. You looked like a woodland nymph, especially with the braided flowers running down your spine. Your eyes were not so sad and your skin was not so grey, though your cheeks remained rather hollow.

"I am eager for the day she speaks," you say as head out, your husband closely tailing you. You link your hands together as you walk side by side down the hall, "she looks always as though she has much to say."

Daemon hums, eyes pinned on your features.

You turn to him.

He smiles softly.

You recognize the exhaustion on his face, even through his current expression, "how fares Caraxes?"

His smile fades. He shakes his head, "there must be something done for him."

You frown when he clenches his jaw. You rub your arm, "is he still unwilling to fly?"

"He's unwilling to do anything save wallow," his nostrils flare.

"Poor thing..." you clench your jaw and rub your arm, "what do you plan to do?"

"I read that there is a gut illness that makes beasts lethargic. Apparently, there is an antidote in an herb that grows by the banks of the river Noyne."

You nod and furrow your brows.

"I will set to Norvos to procure them in three days, immediately after Rhaenyra and Laenor are wed."

You stop in your tracks.

Daemon does the same, only to take a step towards you.

"Oh... I..."

"Travel to Essos would take two moons, if luck finds me," he speaks carefully, "I will not take a second longer than I must."

Your lips part.

"I would take you with me," he reaches for your hand, "but I am to travel by sea and I fear too greatly your health will worsen on the way."

His hand is burning hot against yours. Goosebumps prick over your arms as he rubs your skin.

Daemon's heart drops when you lower your head. He gulps and bends down, desperate to see your face. It gashes him when you turn away.

"Kostilus," he mutters, "gaoman daor jaelagon naejot ojughagon ñuha zaldrīzes." Please, I do not wish to lose my dragon.

Your eyes are glassy as you look back at him. You shake your head, "you need not explain... nor do you need my permission," you sigh, "I will not beg you to stay."

He clenches his teeth hard enough that it hurts him.

You take a deep breath and rest your free hand atop his, "pepper balm, is it not?"

Daemon straightens up.

"The herb in river Noyne?"

"I-" he nods, "yes. Ysartia. Pepper balm."

You nod, "it is a ghastly bitter herb. I do not know if Caraxes will down it. I barely could, even with milk and honey."

He knits his brows, "you've had pepper balm?"

"I've had possibly every herb you can think of, Daemon," you mutter.

This only makes his brows further tighten.

For a moment, you lower your gaze in thought, then you decide to continue walking, "Delacius."

Daemon follows you, eager to keep holding you.

"He was the man my father hired whenever he needed something from Essos. He had a silver beard and a cut on his right eyebrow. He was massive, terrifyingly so, and had runes on his arms," you shake your head, "I met him only a few times, but he was someone you could not forget."

He is immediately enthralled. Your stories were normally told to all else but him. He is raring to hear this.

"He either smelled of sweat and sun... or barley, and gave me pressed flowers from his travels," you knit your brows, "... he was uncharacteristically gentle, considering my father told me he was a sellsword with a bounty on his head."

"Why did your father hire a sellsword to procure pepper balm?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "to cure me, Daemon," you roll your eyes, "hopefully."

The prince looks forward, "I did not know of this herb's existence until a week ago. None of the maesters nor dragon keepers seem to know it either."

He looks back at you when you squeeze his hand.

You offer him a gentle smile, "the oldest memory in my mind is that of my father leaving Oldtown to go to Highgarden. It did not know it, nor did I understand why. He had not been out longer than a day since we were born, neither had he ever gone without bidding me and my brother farewell. He had bid Gwayne, but I had slept in longer, and just missed him.

"I remember seeing his horse. I remember him seeing me run out to the yard. My nursemaid caught me and pulled me back, and father spared me but a glance upon his horse before trotting off," you shudder as the memory plays in your head, "I do not know why I thought he was leaving because me, but it was believed. It was the first time my heart tightened and my body trembled in anguish. I was bedridden when he returned, and he did not leave the chair beside me until I was strong enough to rouse.

"Since then, I have only gotten worse. The maesters first said my illness was simply borne from the fear of separation, of losing my father, my loved ones. It proved to be true, because whenever he left, I would get sick. Then my mother died, and heart began to give in if I ran too hard, or worried too much. My father allowed me to do less and less and procured more and more medicine," you purse your lips, "including pepper balm."

Daemon does not like the chuckle that leaves you.

"Clearly, none of them worked."

"Well, pepper balm is for the gut, not the heart," Daemon mumbles.

You shrug, turning away, "what cures the heart, I wonder."

He frowns at your expression and squeezes your hand.

You turn back to him.

"Love has brought color back to your face."

You chuckle and rub your tightening chest, "love is what drained it to begin with."

He looks away and hangs his head. He tenses when you pull away, but does not try to stop you.

Dinner is more frigid than usual for you were all of you cursed by the presence of the Lord Hand. Normally, attendance was reserved for four: you, Daemon, Alicent, and Aegon. Yes, there was the occasional ward, sometimes two, but even that he could stomach. There was something so putrid about the atmosphere because of this sour cunt, and Daemon knew it was not only him who thought so.

The only sounds in the room were of the cutlery and Aegon's babbling. Sometimes you or Alicent would respond to the boy, but it was silent otherwise. There was no reason for conversation to flow for you had not spoken to your father since Daemon's altercation with him in the hallway. And your sister was never particularly chatty in this time of day.

That all changes when—

"I have reassigned your wards," Otto mentions casually.

Everyone, save Aegon, turns to the old man. He, in turn, turns to Daemon, face blank, yet appearing as though he was looking for a challenge. The prince merely chuckles under his breath.

Your face, however, falls, "what?"

The Lord Hand takes a scoop of peas and chews it rather slowly

Daemon clenches his fist and slowly turns to you. You had been smiling at your nephew just a moment ago and now you were tense. He clears his throat and adjusts Dark Sister, which was leaned on the side of his chair.

Otto notices it. His lips curve as he swallows. He pats his mouth with a table napkin, then turns to you, "you have no use of them now that your husband is an ever ready presence."

Daemon chuckles, louder this time.

Your father's eyes flicker to him. He tilts his head, "do you disagree?"

You and Alicent tense as you look between the two glaring at each other.

"Mummy," Aegon points a chubby finger, "gravy please."

Alicent turns to the boy and pours some gravy on his potatoes.

Otto continues, "I don't recall you were ever fond of them anyw-"

"AH! MoOooOre!"

"No, Aegon," Alicent pushes his hands back when he tries to snag the gravy, "it's not a soup, you shouldn't put-"

"PLEASE!" he whines.

"-I don't recall you were ever fond of the Cargyll brothers," Otto finishes, eyes turning from his grandson to Daemon.

Daemon shrugs.

You frown, "where did you reassign them?"

"Back to their usual rotation," Otto turns to his plate and cuts some meat, "don't worry. You will not be seeing much of them, as they have much to attend to, considering the upcoming wedding."

"Āzma hen iā orvorta, glaesagon hae iā orvorta," Daemon says, making you turn to him. Born from a cunt, lives as a cunt.

"Orvorta." Aegon repeats. Cunt.

You gasp, "Aegon."

Daemon laughs, "kessa, ñuha valītsos. Aōha kepāzma iksis iā orvorta." Yes, my boy. Your (maternal) grandfather is a cunt.

"Gaomagon daor bodmagho se valītsos kōz ēngos," you grab Daemon's arm, making him laugh louder as he turns to you. Do not teach the boy evil tongue.

"Orvorta iksis daor kōz," Daemon chuckes, "mērī zirȳla... aōhon iksis gevie." Cunt is not evil. Only him… yours is beautiful.

You make a face and slap his arm.

Daemon snorts through his nostrils.

Otto attempts to get a word in again, but Aegon nearly jumps off his chair after deciding he was finished with his meal, stealing everyone's attention with him as he nearly crashes to the ground.

Alicent is forced to end her meal, and you do the same, not having much of an appetite anyway. You stand with your sister, and Daemon stands with you. He unabashedly eyes your father, silently warning him not to follow. Soon Otto is left in the room alone.

"Do not worry," Daemon tells you once you've parted with Alicent and Aegon in the hall.

You turn to his face and then to his hand when he takes your arm.

"You will keep your wards."

You take a sharp breath.

"I will not let him torment you with this," he shakes his head, "I cannot stand them, but I will not leave you lonelier because of mine own feelings."

Your lips wobble at his words.

Daemon frowns at it, heart aching at the slightest look of worry upon you, "I will speak to my brother about this, and if need be, I will speak to them myself."

Your forehead curls.

Daemon reaches for your hand, "do not worry. I will not cause commoti-"

You kiss his cheek, stealing his words and his breath at once.

He is gobsmacked when you pull away, unable to believe what had just happened.

"Thank you," you whisper.

Daemon feels his cheek tingle. He cannot help himself and touches the area which you laid your affection.

For a moment, it amuses you, but then his intense shock begins to make you wonder if you had overstepped... after all, you were never so physically affectionate. You only kissed when you laid together, and even then, it was hardly ever tender.

You shake your head and decide not to address it, "I... we should go to bed."

Daemon rubs his cheek, "... yes... t-to sleep..."

You feel your face flush and shake your head faster. You mutter, "yes, of course, what else for?"

Perhaps Daemon should be grateful that Otto was a scheming cunt. Things changed between you because of that dinner, because of that kiss. A barrier had been broken, a wall torn. You were no longer so distant. In times where he itched to reach for you, he would be shocked to have you touch him first.

You had invited him to do mundane tasks you normally accomplished on your own, like choosing the dress you were to wear for the day. You were no longer on such high guard.

And now, as music played in the great hall, as lords and ladies danced in celebration of the union of Rhaenyra and Laenor, you danced amidst it all and he could see you glistening. He saw you in a light he had not seen, or rather, he had been blind to.

You laughed, you frolicked, you danced, you lived— you were living. You were a shining, beauteous lady. You were you. This is who you were without the debilitating melancholy, without the cumbersome illness, without the suffocating father... without the sordid husband.

He watched upon the his seat on the banquet table how you grinned when it was your turn to spin around with Laenor. The sound of your laughter was set apart, as was the rest of you. You glimmered in your dress as you acted out the steps. Your face was not weighed so heavily by inhibitions. This was how you really looked. Daemon had never known it till now. He could not hide his awe.

Laenor notices and mutters as he twirls with you, "you should ask him to dance."

You look at him, smile morphing from glee to confusion, "who?"

"Who do you think?" he laughs, tilting his head to the side, bringing your attention there.

You look and see your husband, gaze locked upon you with the gentle smile. You stop dancing because of it, taken off-guard by the expression you had never seen before. You didn't think it was possible for him to look this way, to look at you this way. He looked fond, not lustful or hungry... dare it be love?

Laenor takes your arm, pulling you back into reality. When you finish the dance and applaud, you turn your back to Daemon, who was still staring at you.

Your breath catches in your throat when he stands and walks over. You are frozen in your spot.

Daemon tilts his head back and drinks in your form. He reaches a hand, "ñuha dārilaros." My princess.

You take his hand.

"Bisa siñagon ao," he rubs your knuckles with his thumb, "iksan biare naejot ūndegon ziry." This becomes you. I am glad to see it.

He pulls you into him and you hear your pulse thumping in your ears. His hand comes to the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw. The other comes to the small of you back, where he presses you flush against his.

Your breathing begins to shorten.

His lips barely move as he mutters, "lilagon lēda nyke?" Dance with me?

Your lips part but you can only nod.

Daemon pulls away but takes your hand. He leads you out of the room.

Rhaenyra watches you both leave the celebration early.

"I... did I misunderstand? Did you not ask me to dance?" you mutter as both pace down the western hall.

Daemon turns to you, squeezing your hand, "I did."

You stare at him for a moment, hoping that he'd explain.

He merely smiles at you.

You only realize he had taken you to the gardens when you arrive. It is a dark, moonless night, but you could still see his soft expression.

He brings you towards the fountain then takes both your hands.

You look up at him as he steps forward. He places your hands on his shoulders before brushing his own down your waist. You hold your breath when he brushes his nose against your temple, leaning into you. He begins to sway and you slowly follow suit. You sway with him, and only then do you bring yourself to relax. When you do, you take in his scent and relish his warmth.

"I will miss you greatly in my travel."

You tense and turn to him.

Daemon's eyes lock with yours. He tucks your brown hair behind your ear.

"The thought does not comfort me."

His brows furrow, "I... only meant to tell you."

Your eyes rove over his features. You notice the corner of his lips begin to droop, "why?"

"... why?" he repeats, almost questioning you. His brows furrow further, "I... I wish to be known..." he takes one of your hands from upon his shoulder, "like you know Laenor."

You watch him move your hand to his chest.

"Or Gwayne," he whisper softly, "or..."

You turn to him, brow quirking at his lowered gaze, "Alicent?"

"Mmm," he turns back to you, voice growing quieter, "yes... though I was going to say... ... your wards."

You laugh at his whisper.

Daemon thrives at the sound.

"My father is right," you shake your head, "I have not spent much time with them for you have kept my company..." you take a breath, "I admit, it has been a while since I've spoken to them."

"Well... that will change as I must leave your company again," he mutters.

"You can still keep me company even if you are not here," you bring a hand to his cheek.

He stiffens, throat tightening at your touch, at your words.

You feel your pulse begin to quicken as you open your mouth, "you... you could write to me."

Daemon involuntarily shakes his head, "I..." he grips the sides of your waist, "I would go mad not to receive word back from you."

You knit your brows and tilt your head, "do you assume I would ignore you?"

He pulls his head back. His lips part, "I-" he gulps, "it would be fair."

You take your turn to shake your head, "why would it be fair?"

"I... I hurt you."

"And hurting you in return will be a balm to me?" you brush his jaw.

"I-" his breath hitches, "it would be fair... to you."

"Fair..." you sigh, clutching his cheeks, "nary equates to right."

He is unable to keep your gaze. He chuckles under his breath as he looks off, "no one alive deserves your kindness."

"Deserve it then."

Daemons eyes flicker back to yours.

"Do not make me into you," you whisper, "be a little more like me."

You both stop swaying.

"Know me... like Viserys or Rhaenyra."

Daemon squeezes your side, "my love-"

Your belly rolls at the term.

"- we would not survive King's Landing if I let kindness cloud my judgment."

You sigh and shrug, "perhaps spare a bit of kindness for me?"

He deflates and rests his head upon yours. He embraces you tightly, "I swear to you, I try," he rubs your back. His body tingles when you return his embrace and rest your head on his shoulder. "You must understand I find it would be kind to behead your father."

You cannot help the chuckle that leaves you.

"I will not, for I know you find no kindness in it-"

"I do not."

"-but... it is truly kindness in my eyes."

You sigh, "then perhaps you must understand that I find it would be kind of me never to admit how your leave inspires my jealousy."

He stiffens and pulls away.

You chuckle bitterly as you see the looks of him, "I am sick... yet you would not stay for me."

Daemon opens his mouth, "I... I found no one who would go to Norvos."

You nod as your vision blurs with tears, "I kno-"

"I swear to you, if I could, I would bring you wi-"

"I know," you press your hand to his lips. You find yourself chuckling again but this time, tears stream down your face, "I will not stop you." You shake your head, "I should not have said it. It is not in my interest that you lose Caraxes."

Daemon grows teary eyed, "neither is it mine."

You nod and smoothen out his top.

"... shall... shall you see me off?"

You lower your head and disagree, "I would much rather not."

He squeezes your hand, "I understand."

The docks are surprisingly busy when he gets there. His things had been loaded beforehand, all that's left for him is to board.

"Why did you do it?"

Daemon stops and turns around.

Otto stands there in a dark, hooded cloak, "why did you reinstate her wards?"

He is immediately riled up, "what?"

"I was doing you a favor."

He chuckles dryly, "well, do me another and drown." The prince turns and makes towards the ship waiting for him.

"My daughter is a feeble woman," says the Hand, watching him walk away, "but she is a woman no less."

This makes him stop in his tracks. Daemon slowly looks over his shoulder, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Daemon is freezes. The sound of a ship rocking with its anchor sounds with the wind. The next second, the prince turns on his heels and storms towards Otto.

The Hand is completely still as the prince yanks him by the collar. Daemon seethes, "you would poison me with ideas to the detriment of your daugh-"

"I tell you because I wish to save her," Otto quips, "this is your consequence; it was you who has poisoned her, made her strong-willed and disobedient. She was never meant for you. She would be happily living in Oldtown had you not been less of a weaselin-"

"Careful!" Daemon barks as he shakes him, "I have my hands on your neck."

"Kill me at your peril," Otto scoffs, "your satisfaction will be shorter than mine own once I meet the grave."

Daemon shoves him back and Otto skids on the dirt, nearly toppling over.

"Remember it was you who brought Arryk and Erryk back into her company," the old man dusts off his cloak as his nostrils flare.

"And remember it was I who took who your daughter's maidenhead and nearly slayed your son during a tourney."

With this, the prince storms towards his ship and the lord feels bile rise up his throat.

[tarohugs]

a million things i didn't say (l.jn)

► When Jeno proposes to you as a joke to get free ice cream, you can't help but begin to feel the butterflies in your stomach. You don't even have time to process the feelings before he's on one knee for someone who isn't you.

► childhood best friend!jeno x reader

► angst and some fluff (you know the drill)

► w/c 1.8k

► toxic jeno, very very sad ending (prepare your tissues), jeno is a bit insensitive at times, jeno proposing, reader ignoring feelings and being a bit dumb, annoying character stereotypes, jeno and reader making you want to rip your hair out, not proof read.

►a/n haven't posted in a while so hope this makes up for it. plz send recs i need inspo for writing.

When Jeno first proposed, it was to you. As a joke, of course. The typical things teenagers do in their free time. Right?

You met Jeno in your high school chemistry class and had clicked since. Some would mistaken you as a couple but you were always quick to deny the accusations.

Considering that most saw you two as a couple, you had decided to take advantage of your relationship spontaneously to get free ice cream. The idea wasn’t well prepared at all. Jeno had planned to propose in your local ice cream parlor and be rewarded with a sweet treat.

Well the two of you were clearly not aware how the plan would go.

“Are you sure this will work Jeno? Your ring doesn’t even look real.” You knew the plan was a dumb idea but you always listened to Jeno. 

Yes, he was your best friend. Yet, you knew he meant more to you. He was one of the most special people you had met. You just couldn’t put a finger on what he was to you.

He laughed at you, his infamous eye smile sending butterflies to your stomach. “Don’t worry, y/n. I got this. Even prepared my special vows for you.”

You didn’t have a response to his sudden confidence, only a blush that scattered your cheeks. When he reached over you to hold the door entrance to the ice cream parlor, your stomach only dropped further into your stomach.

Has Jeno always been this attractive? How had you not noticed how tall he was before? 

With all the thoughts rushing through your head, you had forgotten the main objective: free ice cream. That was all you were here for, not to develop feelings for your best friend. 

By the time you had come to your senses, Jeno was propped on his one knee, fake ring in hand.

“Y/n l/n.”

Well here goes nothing.

“I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. I know it’s not the most romantic but this is where we first met and I developed my love for you. There are so many hours I’ve spent thinking about you, yet they all stemmed from a couple minutes within the walls. I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you.” He continued on for minutes reciting his script. Never stuttering once, it was as if he was speaking from his heart.

It was safe to say Jeno had a way with his words - even if they all met nothing.

You hadn’t realized it yet, but you had fallen in love with Jeno.

When you had finally recognized your feelings for Jeno, it was high school graduation.

In your mind, it was like the weddings that never commenced from your fake engagement. Walking down the same aisle, wearing expensive gowns, celebrating the start of a new chapter in your life. 

These scenarios would all seem fresh in your head if it wasn’t for the fact that Jeno had just begun a relationship with a girl in the year below. All you had known was him for the years prior to graduation. Now, you were clueless as to what would develop as you moved on in your life.

“I’m serious about her. I think I’m going to stay back a year before I head to college. I really think she’s the one.” Jeno had told you one of your sleepless nights on the phone. 

You took a deep sigh, clearly signalling you were not following his ideas. “Look, you have dreamed of moving away for years. Why change your mind for a girl you just met?”

He was clearly losing his patience with you. It was only a matter of time before he snapped after his numerous hours of convincing you he loved her. You would never agree with him, though. As long as he was with someone that wasn’t you.

“You just don’t get it. Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

When he heard the immediate hanging up of the call, his emotions were too high to apologize. Jeno knew his words hurt you but he wasn’t in the right sentence to justify his actions. Time didn’t allow him to correct himself either, only progressing through the rest of highschool by never addressing him again.

But here you were at graduation, finding yourself after the ceremony looking for your parents talking to Jeno’s family. He stood beside them, his new girlfriend pressed tightly by his side. When your eyes flickered to make eye contact with him, he reflected a gaze of sorrow. You never returned the sorrow, your gaze only remaining lifeless.

After Jeno had uttered such nonsense to you, you had deemed him as nothing to you. Even if you had recognized your feelings for him, you couldn’t keep waiting. 

When you had finally let go of the petty teenage drama, an invitation to Jeno’s wedding had arrived at your front door.

You had come to the conclusion that you were in love with him. After continuously convincing yourself you needed to get over him, it was becoming more difficult to let your feelings for the boy go unnoticed. 

With the emotionless response you had given to Jeno after graduation, you had thought your relationship with him was over. And you were proven correct when you found that he had blocked you on every social media platform to ever exist.

You decided it was time to rekindle with your childhood best friend your senior year in college. But to no avail, you still remained blocked and found no new accounts.

So to find the invitation to his wedding - when you had moved far from home and started a new job - was a shocker, to say the least. Even if you hadn’t communicated in years, you were still on the backburner.

Now, you find yourself sitting in an assigned seat in the corner. Far away from any of his family, not needing a reason to explain why you had cut off all communication with Jeno, or rather, how he had done such. 

The only other person sitting by you was his youngest cousin he had always explained as a nuisance at family gatherings. She was sweet and you had told him he needed to treat her nicely considering her young age, but teenage Jeno didn’t know better. Even adult Jeno didn’t know better.

You had done a good job holding off any conversation for the first hour of the wedding, but you couldn’t stand the awkward silence and dwelling going on inside your head anymore. 

Why had you come just to realize you hated him? You had no clue. All you knew was that you wanted to talk to your best friend. He may not have earned his respect back but it was clear he felt the same way. There is only one reason he would even think to send a wedding invitation your way.

When you finally excuse yourself from the table for a drink, his cousin mutters something under her breath.

“What did you say?” Not sure if her words were meant for her.

She looks you in the eye, “Why did you leave Jeno? He was so happy when he was with you?”

Well clearly she was not in the loop. You dreaded talking about your past with Jeno. But you dreaded even more reminiscing on how close you used to be with him. 

“Me and Jeno were never together. I have no idea what you're talking about.” You tried to escape but her words only drew you in.

“Well, I know you weren’t dating, but you should’ve. He was so happy with you. He hated me but you made him realize his indifference. Now here you are with me, the least favorite family member, sitting in the back when you deserve to be down the aisle.”

It was clear her words were leading to the verge of your tears. Time was the only thing that stood between your face full of makeup being ruined. Before she could even allow more words to escape from her mouth, you found yourself making a run for the bathroom. 

You had managed to find a new seat along with some of your high school friends in another far corner. You couldn’t face the emotional damage that was Jeno’s cousin. Your friends knew better than to ask any questions about you two, instead opting to treat the experience as a reunion. 

As much as you didn’t want to, you had thought about her words. Did you really have an effect on Jeno?

He never told you he loved you, except in his vows. You remember every syllable that came from his mouth. Most importantly, “I love you.” They weren’t real, but they were the closest symbol of reciprocation Jeno had ever given to you.

Even if the words were never truthful, it was only a matter of minutes before you heard his real vows come from his mouth. Watching him walk down the aisle, all you could picture is what your wedding with him would’ve looked like.

If you had ever told Jeno your real feelings that day. Maybe if you were truthful, maybe if you had listened to his cousin, maybe if you hadn’t cut him off, you could be descending down the aisle. 

Instead, here you are, sitting isolated from your best friend, wondering what he even thinks of you. Does he know that you're here? Did he invite you or had he been forced to by his parents? All this clouds your mind as you watch the bride approach Jeno, joining hand in hand.

Jeno stood tall on the altar. His black suit defines his build. It was obvious that he had grown into his body well since you had last seen him. As he took a deep breath, you knew it was ready for him to begin his vows, for real this time.

“The love of my life.”

Tears began to blind your vision. You couldn’t stand hearing what was about to come from his mouth. All you could make out was the movement of his lips as ringing stormed your ears. 

If you weren’t so scared you would’ve told him how you felt. 

If you had been mature you wouldn’t have let him give up on his dreams.

If you cared more about yourself you wouldn't have allowed him to let you burn on the backburner after all these years.

If you had listened to his cousin you would understand that you were important to him.

As you watched him slip the ring on to his now wife, you knew time was up. There was no reversing what you hadn’t done, only reminiscing on what you could’ve.

Jeno was now no one to you. Just a friend in the past who you would tell others you don’t talk to now.

All the years of unreciprocated love would never rekindle. Maybe one thing you should’ve done was listen to him. “Maybe you’ll understand when you finally find someone that loves you.”

It was time to find someone that loved you. Even if it wasn’t him.

[simp-ly-writes]

Days & Nights

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.10)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You and Jayce share 3 days and 3 nights before your move back to Piltover. During these days you both reassure one another's worries for your shared future, go on a date, spend time with friends and family, and pack up your apartment.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, teasing, pet names, sickly sweet fluff (no but seriously), some emotional hurt/comfort (more like reassurances), kissing, suggestive themes, very brief mentions of violence, Evren (OC) being a little pice of shit /affectionately, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 6,050

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: last fic of the year! (2025 sounds so futuristic I hate it here 😭). Also this chapter is kinda filler! next chap wedding? 👀

─────── · ·

─ · · You sit on a lounge within Jayce's hotel room reading one of your new romance novels from your bag. Afternoon passes to early evening and you both had yet to move from your spots, simply enjoying one another's company.

Every time you finished another chapter you would look up and across the room to watch Jayce sign his signature and write letter after letter before sealing each with wax hammer emblem for his house. A part of you felt bad for making him take his work to you and by the sheer amount of letters he had to respond to by the end of the day to make sure they made it back in time...

"Bored of your book already darling?" Jayce asked leaning back in his chair and stretching out his legs. You watch as he picks up his wine glass, swirling the blood red liquid before taking an elegant sip.

"No," you look back down at the page blushing at the desperation of the male love interest and trying to conceal a giggle once they finally kiss, "It's actually getting really good." Jayce watches the way your eyes light up before quickly turning to the next page, the book practically touching your nose as you read the next words carefully before shutting the book and kicking your feet.

Jayce stands, walking over and taking a seat by your feet before extending his hand in a silent ask for the book, you look at his hand and then raised brow- curious. You tuck the book close to your chest shaking your head, "Nope! Sir Antoine is for my eyes only!"

Jayce scoffs, placing his arm across the back on the lounge and his wine on a side table before putting your legs on top of his own and massaging your calves. "Should I be worried about this Sir Antoine?" Jayce teases, giving your leg a squeeze.

You reopen your book, eyes going wide as the scene heats up and you lose yourself again to the text, breathing in sharply through your nose as you read, I want to be your every waking thought, make you feel the ghost of my touch with every step in your walk, understand that you are what makes me breathe. Your jaw drops at what you read- not noticing how Jayce glares at the cover of the book. I have more definition than that guy, he thinks to himself.

You look up from the book to look towards the ceiling, crossing your ankles together as the replay the scene in your head, biting your lip before closing your eyes- and Jayce steals the book as you hastily lean forwards and try and snatch it back.

Jayce stands, your legs falling off his lap as he holds the book up at out your reach. He goes back a few pages, humming and nodding along as you grip his arm trying to force it done to no use. "Jayce!" you plead but your boyfriend simply ignores you and flips to the next page before holding your hip.

"Almost done, just taking notes," Jayce hums, staring down and smiling at your glare before leaning down kissing your nose. You scrunch it, "You don't need notes Jayce," you try and entice his ego into letting the book go but Jayce shakes shakes his head, "apparently I need to do better if you're imaging other men in that brilliant mind of yours."

Its your time to laugh, "Jayce... I was imaging you the whole time." His eyes quickly catch your own, lighting up, mouth in a playful smirk as he marks the page and places it on the lounge before taking you into his arms, "you were now? and what was I doing to you-hm?"

"I mean, you just read it for yourself..." you trail off, playing with the buttons of his dress-shirt and observing the small flowers within the metal design. "Maybe I just want to hear your voice," Jayce counters before pulling away and sitting back at his desk, sighing at the other stack of letters he still has to get through before the end of the day.

You sit back on the lounge picking up the book and flipping to the next more relaxed chapter before reading it aloud for you both, Jayce nods along to the sound of your voice as he slices open another letter and observes it continents.

─────── · ·

─ · · After reading through all of Piltover's words and demands to help Jayce finish up for the day and by having memorized his signature and forging it, you both take the boxes to the front desk to be shipped back home. You grab Jayce's arm while walking down the street and back to your apartment where Ximena and Evren were waiting for you at the kitchen table. "Busy day today?" Evren asks while filling up your glass.

You shrug, "got the marking done for the weekend and helped him with the mail," you explain before stealing a bite off of Jayce's plate watching as he playfully glares at you before returning to his conversation with his mom.

Evren nods, "I'm going to miss you when you're gone..." you smile sadly, reaching your hand over the table to grasp his own, "I'll write to you every week until I annoy you and at that point I'll come for a visit," you explain watching as Evren smiles and squeezes your hand before placing a kiss to the back of it, "I look forwards to then but you have to tell me!"

"Tell you what?" you ask, squinting your eyes- trying to decipher his words before he speaks them to life, "what do you plan to do when you get back? You two moving in together? What are you going to do for work?- or are you gonna be one of those hot little housewives waiting for their man to get home~" Evren teases you with a wink.

You gasp, taking your hand away to cover your mouth, "Evren!" you shout now catching everyones attention at the table as both Jayce and Ximena look between the two of you curiously. Evren leans back in his chair, clutching his stomach as he laughs at your horrified reaction, "I mean... I don't think Jayce would mind-" he manages to speak in between gaps of laughter.

"I hate you," you whine, hiding your face in your hands, head in your lap as Jayce rubs up and down your back only making you feel worse. "You're not making me feel any better, Jayce!" you explain as Jayce slows his movements and leans down to whisper in your ear asking if you're okay.

You quickly sit up, face flushed as you blink away tears from concealing your own silent laughs while pointing a finger and glaring at Evren who simply blows you a kiss. Ximena clears her throat, your eyes snap to her as she looks at you concerned, "what happened, dear? If you don't like the food I can make you something else? If its my son? I apologize, but know that he loves you."

You shake your head, "No, no, the food is delightful as always and Jayce is... yeah," your mind still held up on the housewife comment. Evren chokes on his own drink, picking up his napkin feeling as you kick his shin from underneath the table. "Ouch- hey!" he glares at you staring as you cross your arms over your chest. Jayce sighs, shaking his head with a smile at how you both act like an old married couple together.

Ximena still looks worried as she motions for Jayce to comfort you again, "What did Evren say to upset you?" Jayce asks quietly. You can't look at him, only holding your sights on Evren- daring him to speak first. "Well," Evren sits up in his chair, looking at everyone at the table before keeping his eyes on Jayce for his reaction, eyes shimmering with mischief, "I said that our friend here would give all those high ladies in Piltover a run for their money being the hottest little housewife waiting for their man to get home."

You groan, wanting to become a puddle and seep beneath the floorboards into nothingness. I hate you, I hate you Evren, Why, why why did you say that? You listen as Jayce roars with laughter, feeling his hand caress the back of your head and to your horror, Ximena nods along agreeing with Evren, "I think she holds more class than the entire upper class put together. Oh let me show you the pictures of them together, I enjoyed seeing everyone's jealous faces," Jayce's mom claps her hands together excitedly before grabbing a photo album she's been preparing for your wedding, you want to die.

"Can I just catch a break, please," you beg to the floor watching as Jayce's foot taps the side of yours, you look up to your boyfriend's large eyes holding nothing but care and affection within his irises, "If thats what you want to do, know that I can and will provide for you." You stare at him, watching for a bluff yet Jayce only kisses your forehead before leaning back in his chair, glass in hand as he holds your thigh, squeezing it gently as his mother returns to the table- book in hand.

Evren looks utterly pleased with himself, graciously taking the book, "Damn! You two look so good together, tell me that you still have this dress?" he turns the album around, finger tapping at a photo from Jayce's councillor party. You remember that day vividly, Jayce's hot stare at you throughout the night before carrying you down the hall and then... you bedded another. Jayce tenses beside you, seemingly remembering that fact the same time that you do. He smiles tightly at Evren who quickly looks down to the next page of you and Jayce shopping together, a little girl in your arms.

Evren takes his time looking at that image before passing the album back to Ximena who smiles, "my favourite picture," she comments, closing the book softly before setting it aside. You look around the table before looking at Jayce to find him already looking at you.

Ximena leans over grasping Evren's arm as she whispers into his ear while watching you both with a smile, "It may just be a generational thing but I do hope she considers your words." Evren nods, pulling away before shooting you a horrified look, I promise you I was just kidding, his mouths to you.

─────── · ·

─ · · When night falls you hug Evren goodbye for the night and close the door behind you, Jayce is wiping down the table before looking up at you with a smile. Your eyes feel heavy as you lean against his back and close your eyes with a sigh. Ximena leans against an archway between the kitchen and the living space staring at you both while grasping her hands tightly together underneath her chin.

Jayce raises his arm to get a glimpse of your sleepy form, "tired there are you miss?" he teases, "please know that I have a girlfriend."

"Mmm, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," you murmur back, smiling towards Ximena. "I would think otherwise, I really must go see her if you'll let me go?" Jayce counters, grabbing your hand- interlacing his fingers with your own, gently pulling you off of him. You giggle before running off, "Night, Jayce!" you call from down the hall before closing your door. Jayce scoffs looking towards him mom, "What did I do wrong this time?"

Ximena shrugs, taking the towel from his hands and throws it by the sink, "I haven't got a clue, sweetie," she pats her sons arm looking down at your door, "Maybe she just wants to sleep by herself tonight, nothing wrong with that right?" Jayce lets out a deep long breath, "...yeah I guess." Ximena chuckles before leaving to get herself ready for bed as Jayce debates weather or not to take your couch or to head back to his hotel room.

Suddenly you open your door in one of his shirts as you switch off the lights, "Jayce?" you call, Jayce's heart picks up- hopeful. "C'mere let's sleep-" Jayce races over, picking you up in his arms, closing the door with his foot behind you both before placing you back on your bed.

He quickly undresses himself before sliding himself underneath the covers- smiling as you burrowing your face into the side of his chest with a satisfied hum. "Can we make a rule of not going to bed alone?" Jayce asks softly. You laugh, "Sure, Jayce."

"I'm serious," he speaks softly and your laughter dies, "no matter how angry you are with me or what happens, I just need you there at the end of the day." You press a kiss to his chest, lingering for a moment before pulling away, "same time, anywhere and always."

─────── · ·

─ · · When you step into Evrens office the next day, you are shocked to see his desk covered in cards and parting gifts as various staff and students alike prepare for your impending departure. You smile, ripping through the assortment of ribbons and paper- taking your time to note down each sender and write them a small message back on your break.

Evren looks jealous, taking a look into the various bags and boxes with a huff, "nobody sent me things when I got divorced." You shake your head at your professor friend as he grumbles to himself, stealing a scarf from one of your presents when he thinks you not to be looking before heading to lecture leaving you to conduct office hours.

A knock sounds at the door, "come in!" you yell, quickly disposing of all the wrapping before taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. Jayce walks in, jacket draped over his forearm and briefcase in his other hand as he smiles at you. "Do you have a moment for some questions, miss?" he asks, taking a seat in front of Evren's desk. You giggle, taking a seat in his chair before leaning forwards and trying to conceal your smile. "I have all the time in the world for you, Jayce-my-boy, whatever are your questions, young student?"

Jayce shakes his head, "I'm afraid its a rather serious affair," he deadpans. "Oh? Do go on then," you wave your hand, leaning back in Evren's chair as Jayce leans forwards on the desk. "I need a dinner date." You gasp, the shock... the outrage!

"I do beg your pardon, pupil. But it would be against policy for me to accept your request," you explain, crossing your legs as you place your head on your palm, elbow resting on the arm of your chair. Jayce pouts, ringing his fingers through his hair, "surely there could be an... exception for your favourite student?"

"Thats quite the bold claim you've made there," you respond, eyes gleaming with humour as Jayce stares at you, trying to figure out how to get you to fold. Suddenly he stands, rounding the table and placing his hands on the arms of your chair, boxing you in.

You lean as far back as back in your chair, staring up at Jayce as his face becomes steadily closer to your own. His hair brushing your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes flicker between your own and your lips, "I can prove it to you if you allow me to show you," he whispers.

You pause for a moment, looking down at Jayce's lips before trailing down to his neck and tie in which you tug him even closer by, you hear him gasp as your lips brush against his, "show me," you murmur before feeling his lips linger against your own. His hand moves to cup your cheek- tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

You moan giving Jayce access to explore your mouth, you gasp as his other hands joins to hold your face, fingers brushing your cheeks before pulling away as you both gasp for air. "So can I expect to see you in my room at six?" Jayce asks, thumb brushing up against your lower lip as you give it a teasing lick watching as his eyes darken.

"What should I wear?" you ask.

"Honest answer? nothing," he says with a shrug.

"Jayce Talis!" you scold, he smirks, "Same thing from the gala."

"But you've already seen me in that," you pout thinking about the various other articles you've collected for special occasions and a moment like this. Jayce kisses you once more, "But I didn't get to dance with you in it, kiss you in it, make you feel my hand drag up your leg through the slit or watch as it falls to the floor leaving you bare for my eyes only," he explains watching as your cheeks warm and how you push yourself back on the wheeled chair and into a corner of the room, refusing to meet his eyes that drink in your flustered look.

"I thought you were over that night by now," you mumble underneath your breath looking at Jayce through the corner of your eye as he nods his head contemplating- eyes looking upwards to the ceiling as he considers his next words, "I'll always want more of you- doesn't matter if it's then, now, or the future. Sometimes I fear that we won't have enough time to experience it all..."

Your frown at his words, "I think we've experienced more than the average lifetime, Jayce."

"But... I- just," Jayce sighs, "never mind." You stand and walk over to Jayce, picking up one of his arms and placing it around your waist- pressing a kiss to his jaw, "I'll love you regardless of what you say next Jayce... just as long as its within reason," you try and lighten the mood. Jayce sits with your words before opening his mouth again to speak.

"I just want enough moments we share to be happy ones... we just... so much happened to us that I don't want you to look back and regret choosing me," Jayce whispers, blinking a few times before looking over your shoulder.

"Is this what you've thought for sometime?" you ask worriedly, taking his face into your hands when he refuses to meet your eyes, the silence is telling and your heart aches in response. "Jayce," you whisper his name, trying to call him back to you and out of his negative thoughts.

He slowly turns his head, "sorry for ruining the movement," he kisses your cheek and wraps his other arm around your waist. You both stand there for a moment, feeling one another warmth as you press your lips to his softly, whispering, "No, thank you for sharing that with me, Jayce. Never think you're protecting me from your emotions, I want to hear what you have to say, always."

Jayce nods, pressing his lips against your own as you close your eyes, dragging your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, you feel as his shoulders drop adding a smile to your kiss. "What?" Jayce asks, eyes brightening as he tilts his head watching your smile grow, "I just love you," you respond with a giggle.

Jayce smiles mirrors your own as he gives you a squeeze, lifting his chin to place atop your head, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · You held a bouquet of flowers in your arms while trying to knock on Jayce's door... you were a bit early... as in an entire hour early but you thought he wouldn't mind.

─ · · Within the room Jayce was still working, hand gripping the pen tightly as he sighed frustratedly, the numbers were just not adding up for what other regions were demanding from Piltover in return for what they were offering... the upper city had already finished rebuilding after the crises. Local businesses were returning back to their regularly scheduled hours and with the people of Zaun being able to freely come up to the surface and vice versa... the old contracts just did not make sense any longer.

─ · · Jayce gripped his hair, leaning back in his chair as he looked down at his watch, she's coming soon... but I have to get this done... fuck, Jayce thought to himself before standing abruptly at the sound of your knock.

He opened the door, startled to see you all ready, hair all done up and in thee dress, he stared for awhile before remembering to let you inside. You placed the flowers at the foot of the bed, kicking off your heels as Jayce smiled offering his slippers before suddenly remembering his dishevelled appearance.

His shirt was unbuttoned half way, tie left stranded on the desk. His forearms are on display, tattoo dragging up his arm that he scratches the back of his head with- hair a waterfall against his forehead. "Today is just my day it seems," he sighs while looking at the flowers you brought him and he had nothing to offer you, feeling disappointed with himself.

"You look good, my love. I enjoy the relaxed look," you say honestly. Jayce furrows his eyebrows in question, "Jayce..." you laugh fully now, falling back into the bed, "I looked at pictures when you first came back and..." you blush, "...you looked good then." Jayce shakes his head, disturbed someone had shown you pictures.

"That was something I tried to hide purposefully-" he begins to explain, embarrassed as he pinches the bridge of his nose as you bat your eyelashes up at him. "Why?" you cut him off, curious as you sit up slightly, leaning back on your elbows.

"I just didn't want you to see me at such a low point, such a mess," he explains before joining you on the bed, placing his head in your lap to cover his face. Someone's the shy one today, you think to yourself.

"You don't always have to look your best or be strong for me, Jayce. I promise thats only a fraction of you that I fell for," you reassure him, relieved to be getting all the doubts and worries out now.

"But I just want to be the best man for you," Jayce picks up, body hovering over your own.

"You are, Jayce. The man I love is selfless, intelligent and above all, kind. He kisses me after a long day of work, dances with me even when I step on his designer shoes, laughs at my terrible jokes, and is always there to bring me up no matter how many times I don't think I am worthy of all this love and attention that he too seems to forget he is just as worthy of feeling regardless of being the "man" everyone else tells him to be. You are everything I need or could ever want you to be, Jayce." you are nearly breathless by the end of your speech and the way in which he kisses you passionately, unable to contain his affections.

"Could I marry you now?" Jayce, equally breathless asks in a tone light yet holding an edge of sincerity to it.

"You're mother would be severely disappointed... I would also be taking her Mrs. Talis title," you counter yet knowing within yourself you would go down to the courthouse now without a care for any large ceremony.

"I guess you're right... but then again, she'll more than understand. Know that when we get to Piltover theres nothing stopping me from becoming your husband," Jayce states as you look up at him, fingers brushing his lip, picking up the edges to make his smile grow, hands falling once seeing it spread on its own. "Mr. and Mrs. Talis," you hum to yourself, testing the titles you had already been called countless times on accident, "Mrs. Talis," Jayce echos, a part of you in shock that one day it would be official.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your inside date would tick off every box Jayce had mentioned earlier. A record played in the background as he twirled you dizzy before crashing you against his chest and tilting your head up into a dizzying kiss that held your knees weak. His mouth distracts your trail of thoughts as you feel how his hand drags up your leg, up and under the slit of your dress and towards your undergarments before the phone rings.

Jayce holds you against him, breaths ragged as he reaches over to pick up the phone, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Hello?" you bite your lip at his baritone, not quite listening to what he says but how he says it. "Dinners here," he explains as the line dies, you nod your head, dragging yourself out from underneath his hold and ensuring that you look... somewhat presentable as people set the table and leave quickly that has you looking over yourself worriedly before noticing the mark you left above Jayce's collar bone on display... and the over a dozen lipstick kisses across his skin and dress-shirt... oh.

"Gods, it looks like a ripped you apart," you say, reaching from your glass, chiming it against Jayce's who smiles underneath the lip of the glass, "a good thing, no?" He tries to boost your ego. You roll your eyes, "everyones gonna think I'm just using you," you grumble, taking a bite off your plate.

"You're welcome to," Jayce indulges you with a wink, tongue swirling around one of his canines as stare at him for awhile, "Sometimes I question how long I withstood your advances."

"I question that too," Jayce admits, "when I first started I was willing to do just about anything for you to see me" You gasp, "so you knew exactly what you were doing!" You think back to the various times you thought to have caught him in a state of undress, imagining him purposefully placing things too high for you to reach, or calling you anything but your name in front of your peers.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · Waking up in the morning you both took a slow morning getting ready before heading back to your apartment and starting to pack everything away with the help of Ximena and Evren.

Suspiciously all the heavy boxes you packed and tried to hide to carry later were all taken and gone. Your furniture was going to stay for the next household as You and Evren worked around it, folding your clothes into bags and boxes alongside wrapping the glassware in the kitchen with Ximena.

Jayce was in a pair of kakis and black t-shirt, sweat dripping down his forehead as took a box out of your hands and walked out the door not listening to your demands of helping to carry things as Ximena dragged your arm back to the living room to finish taping the boxes on the table.

Seeing Jayce out of the corner of your eye, you dropped your chest over the box protectively, "If you don't let me carry this box Jayce I'm leaving you at the aisle," you threaten, standing and walking to the door as Evren silently trails behind giving Jayce a look up and down watching as he wipes the sweat off his forehead.

"You two are going to be somethin' huh?" Evren yells before stepping outside after you, loud enough for both you and Jayce to react separately with laughs.

��────── · ·

─ · · Everything was loaded onto a train carriage headed a day ahead of you all to arrive when you got there. Jayce laid on your bed, chest down as you startled his hips, massaging his back. You laughed listening to him complain about your cold fingers before groaning as those same fingers loosened a knot in his lower back, "I told you to let me help you," you pressed down a bit harder as Jayce whined, biting his lip, the pain felt relieving to the stress he felt within his muscles.

You lessened your pressure, working your way upwards as your hands traced his shoulders before squeezing them. Jayce burrowed his face, groaning into the comforter you would be taking on the train as you laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his neck. "Feels good?" you tease watching as Jayce slowly shows his face again, mischief in his eyes that has you slightly worried for his next words, "stealing my line there are you sweetheart?"

You flush not knowing how to respond but thankfully you wouldn't have to, freezing at a scream, heads whipping over to see an embarrassed Evren who thought to be walking in on your both. "Evren! I'm just massaging Jayce's back, promise," you reassure your friend as he hesitantly opens his eyes before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Do you both ever fear being too attached together?" he asks seeing how Jayce reaches behind feeling for your hand as you lace your fingers together, you both think for a moment, "We can last at least a week with no contact," you nod, "Yeah, maybe two depending on how earlier weeks were."

You and Jayce proceed to go back and worth determining that the longest timing with different prior variables. Evren was not planning to witness you both debate like old times in the lab as you get back to rubbing his shoulders and neck; Hypotheticals and theories, what if I sent a gift part-way? Would letters count as contact? What If I visited part way and then left... could we go longer then?

"I think the answers conclusive, 3 weeks with at least two visits and gifts," you tap Jayce's back, sliding off as Evren does not know weather to feel disgusted by how sweet you both are with one another, disturbed by how telepathically you read one another, or enamoured by the affection you both share. "I cannot believe you even decided on getting with that officer," Evren jokes as you roll your eyes, "don't remind me about him, that was a poor choice on so many levels. But then again... If I hadn't done that Jayce and I may not have gotten together in the end."

"Still not thanking that fucker," Jayce curses, throwing his shirt back on before extending a hand, helping you off the bed, "oh no, I was going to try and invite them to the wedding," you joke... Jayce stares blankly at your head in response as Evren smiles at you both, "I love you two."

You rush over hugging Evren tightly knowing that this would be one of your final moments together, "Love you too Ev!"Jayce joins the hug as you both smush Evren between your bodies, "Now this was NOT the threesome I'd imagine," Evren says, patting both of your arms gently with a wheeze.

─────── · ·

─ · · You count every bag and item on your person before double checking Jayce's hotel room to ensure you both got everything. Evren and Ximena were both waiting for you on the tracks, watching as the luggage got loaded.

"I told myself not to cry," Evren says to himself with a pout, blinking profusely as if to delay the tears... yet it only seemed to make them come faster as he sniffled, dragging you into a hug as you both swayed side to side, "Why am I getting so emotional? We only hung out for what... a few months?"

"Ouch, Ev. I thought my friendship meant more to you," you joke, rubbing his back seeing as his glasses fog up, "It does I assure you. Just like how I'm dead set on delivering a speech at your wedding." You groan at the thought of it knowing that in your many nights out together after class... you told him almost every secret you had to share.

"You wouldn't do that to me!" you try and guilt trip him, feeling as he shakes his head, pulling away from the hug, a smile returning to his face that matches your amused one, "Consider it payback for leaving me here."

"I told you you're welcome to come back, I'm sure I could find a spot for you within the Academy?" you counter. "I'll get back to you on that once the loneliness settles in."

"Whatever you need, Ev. Whatever you need," you reassure him, pulling the professor in for one last hug before standing off to the side watching as Ximena gathers her own hug before joining you observing as Jayce and Evren hold a handshake, unsure of what they are whispering to one another.

─ · · "Take care of my friend, please," Evren asks quietly, "I know I joke about it a lot but divorce does hurt." Jayce nods firmly, eyes determined without a trace of fear or doubt, "I promise you I will and I don't mean my words lightly."

"Thank you."

─────── · ·

─ · · On the train back to Piltover you sit beside Ximena as you both share your combined excitement to see if parts of the upper city were how you remembered and what restaurants you both wanted to sit in as soon as you got back.

Jayce leaned back on a bench opposite of your both, watching with a smile wishing he brought a camera to capture this moment for all of eternity. You and his mom held hand, shaking with laughter as she recalled various stories from Jayce's childhood you had yet to hear.

"Oh and Jayce used to make pretend weddings in school wanting to stay in his uniform like a suit. And did I ever tell you about how he caught his hair on fire the first time in the forge? Or what about the hour before you arrived to our house for the first time?- Jayce was pacing around the kitchen nearly digging a hole into the floor with worry. 'What if she doesn't like the food, mom?' 'Oh god I never asked if she came from nobility?' 'Is it bad of me to be worried this much?'" Ximena looks lovingly towards her son who blushes a furious red, "mom you were just as worried as I was!" he counters with a huff.

You smile, "I was worried too that I was overdressed or what address you by the wrong title. I also didn't know what work material to bring without feeling intruding even when thats what you requested," you explain as Ximena grabs shakes your hand in her own. "You were so beautiful that day, I think I fell in love myself," you laugh lightly, "I can see where Jayce gets his charm from."

"Only learned from the best," Jayce adds.

─────── · ·

─ · · You and Ximena had yet to move from your spots when Jayce came back in his sleepwear. Laying down in the cot he looked between you and his mom, lingering on your form with consideration. Ximena caught his look, "If you didn't keep her from me earlier in the week, Jayce, you would have more time together now." You shake your head in humour, "I'll get ready in a few minutes, my love. Just discussing flowers for the wedding."

Jayce frowns but nods, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest trying to create a comforting weight. You continue your conversation yet can't help your eyes from constantly darting to look at Jayce with longing. Ximena shakes her head, "alright, I'll let you both sleep now. See you two in the morning," she stands, kissing your cheek gently before moving to her own room two doors down in the carriage.

You watch as Jayce opens his arms expectantly- not being able to contain your laugh before rushing over and collapsing against him. "G'night," you mumble, pressing the light-switch beside the bed feeling as Jayce shuffles the blankets over you both in the small cot.

Jayce's turns on his side allowing you more space as intertwine your legs, "Night, sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: I think this series is officially the longest thing I've ever written... WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, JAYCE TALIS 🫠

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Another Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Netflix sucks and I'm sad, but the Dead Boy Detectives fandom continues to be awesome, so here are some more very quick fic recs!*

Tonight's the Night You Fight Your Best Mate's Dad by Opossum_Subatomic

Everyone's Alive College/University 5+1 things fic featuring Charles bringing Edwin coffee and slowburn payneland. Also Family/Wedding Drama involving Everyone Thinks They're Dating so acute is verges on Fake Dating. This author is seriously fantastic, everything they write is gold.

You should also check out Kissing Lessons, which is a high school AU that does what it says on the tin while also giving non-binary Monty and polyamory.

Ornithology by Rosie447

Monty gets a job working at Tragic Mick's. This one's not actually payneland, being gen and Monty-centric. I know, gasp. It's a fantastic and very sweet exploration of Monty discovering his sense of self post canon and works as a great metaphor for recovery from toxic family/relationships. Also, the ex-animal solidarity and bonding with Mick is lovely.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

The Sandman crossover featuring Edwin and Hob being kidnapped and tortured together. Their friendship is really wholesome with eventual Father Figure and Found Family Feels for the whole agency and background Dreamling.

dandelion wine (life and death in summertime) by world_wanderer

Payneland Right Person Wrong Time AU in which neither of them die but they still meet and become friends. The May/December friendship is sweet but tragic, with a bittersweet ending. Superb.

Mirror Image by Anonymous

Charles' afterlife gets taken over my an evil shape-shifting doppelganger, leaving him with plenty of time to regret never talking to Edwin about his feelings. Angsty but with Feelings Realisation and the Power of Love and Friendship vibes.

my healing needed more than time by babyseraphim

Case fic with de-aged Charles! Baby Charles is precious but be prepared for discussions of childhood trauma/abuse.

The same author has also written I'm So Aces at Babysitting, which is a really cute two-chaptered AU featuring Charles and Edwin babysitting the kid versions of each other, with bonus Crystal and Niko doing the same. It's very wholesome and the author writes little kids really well.

Pouring into me by tragedy_machine

Love me some "Charles wants to date Edwin to figure out his feelings but gets turned down" fic. Feelings are hard, OK?

thank u, next by KiaraSayre

Edwin fucks and Charles seethes. It's very funny and also features some interesting worldbuilding with the Fae.

Like We've Never Known Hurt by dearheartdont

Just cute established relationship PWP and praise kink. So good.

all of these hollows by handwrittenhello

The boys are alive again but sans memories. Can they still find each other and prove their devotion to the Night Nurse?? While also evading heavenly and hellish forces trying to keep them apart??? Very interesting concept executed well.

Suo Gân by emryses

The agency takes on the case of a traumatised Edwardian ghost searching for her missing baby... Read it for Edwin family feels.

Where Primroses Bloom by PantryJesus

Reading aloud as a love language and Watership Down feels. Idk, I'm now convinced that Edwin is kind of rabbit-coded with the whole "if they catch you they'll kill you. But first they must catch you" thing. A lovely well written fic.

I'm so sick of online love by Hse11z5

College/University AU where the boys meet through a dating app. It's cute.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Again, it's the Friends with Benefits but with real feelings and mutual pining for me. Now has a Charles PoV companion fic.

True Love's Kiss by Asidian

In which Charles curses himself with a Sleeping Beauty enchantment in order to confirm his feelings for Edwin and Crystal is the real MVP. I love this one because the boys are both SO stupid but in very different in-character ways.

I also recommend Promised, in which they kind of play the Green card angle to keep Edwin out of Hell? Which honestly needs to be more of a trope. And Tight Quarters, starring the boys trapped in a magic circle, leading to Forced Proximity induced Feelings Realization (in more ways than one! 😉).

Something I Can Turn To by DontOffendTheBees

I love some domestic fluff, in this case as an Everyone's Alive/Childhood Friends AU in which the boys are poor but happy living together. I liked how they both survive their respective traumas, but Reality Ensues.

I also recommend Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light for a lovely but melancholy Soulmate AU that goes for the "seeing colours" trope for extra wistful angst.

Dining at the Ritz by TerresDeBrume

Meeting the Parents fic in which Edwin's parents are awful and Charles is Not Having It. This has Everyone Thinks They're Dating and autistic Edwin stimming representation, plus discussions of racism, classism and ableism. The fic is also part of a great Modern AU series in which the boys attended St Hilarion's at the same time and Charles saved Edwin from a non-supernatural but still almost deadly prank. Highly recommended!

The Case of the Couples Retreat by juliasfanart

Listen, I can't get enough of undercover fake dating/relationships at a couples retreat, OK? Some minor angst but overall very cute and fluffy.

acu (aysar cinematic universe) by ObsessedWithFandom

The agency is hired to solve the mystery of Charles' death and bring his killers to justice. I'm genuinely obsessed with this series; I love its OCs and Charles having an exboyfriend gives Edwin a fun crisis. Plus haunting Charles' killers is very satisfying and cathartic. Just imagine they're Netflix execs, y'all.

*Not actually quick, as it turns out. 😅

I love doing these lists because I always think I've only got a few recs and then I look back over my recent bookmarks and I've got a metric ton of great fics to rec. You guys are so talented. ❤️

[zevrra]

JJK.3

synopsis: random hc’s for the men of jjk; college/frat boy edition!

tags: 21(+) only, tw for drinking/being drunk, age gap, some aged up characters, modern au, college au, jjk headcanons, all sfw, short & sweet, ask box open, jjk x reader

creator’s notes: i plan to turn all of this into a multi-chapter series so give me some ideas for what the “mc”(reader) should be! or just overall drop some ideas for it in my ask box that would be cool :3

CHOSO—

forensics major with a minor in chemistry and music

only knows gojo, geto, and nanami through volleyball

supports the team solely bc his freshman brother, yuji, plays

is not in the frat but gets invited to every party

also because he's the best dj any of them know

doodles on himself with a pen

has all the piercings

his ears are decked out with mostly studs

has a right eyebrow piercing, bridge, septum, and snake bites

probably has his nipples pierced too (he lost a dare)

hangs out with geto so they can share nail polish when he paints his nails

is the quiet one at parties who's awkwardly sitting on the couch while he sips his drink

once he's drunk he's entirely different, way more open and talkative

would talk your ear off about music if you let him

or the several different ways blood can splatter and how it'll never look the same twice

is a LIGHT WEIGHT!!

sleeper build

is an alt/grunge boy through and through

is a drummer!

TOJI—

is the frat's “overseer” and the volleyball coach

is actually a decent coach but really he just got lucky to have a great team that makes him look better than he is

gets noise complaints all the time about the frat

does not care, he's at the parties too

is a horrible, horrible influence

probably acts more like a bouncer than anything

provides the alcohol

does not let a single soul under 21 in though

is the hot dad every girl wants

sweatpants and tight shirts all day everyday

has beef with gojo

only because gojo ends up damaging the house and getting into wayyy too much trouble

takes everyone out to eat after games, has too many beers, puts the tab solely on gojo and dips

is a very, very handsy drunk

has to be watched at parties when he gets too drunk cause he’ll hit on all the girls

NANAMI—

a business major with a minor in biology, hopes to open his own small time clinic one day

plays on the male volleyball team, is a middle blocker

works out all the time, has a schedule for everything

is known for his "dark academia" style

hates large parties

the only reason he's ever at a party is because he was dragged there by gojo and geto

you can find him in the other room petting the dog

doesn't drink a lot at parties, will maybe have one if he's in the mood

is the rightful dd!!

literally the only voice of reason

always gets you your fav food after parties when he knows you're a little tipsy

would 1,000% rather be home reading

if he ever gets drunk, has to be inside his own home

he's a sleepy, "admits to everything" drunk

you've strictly forbidden gojo from being anywhere near nanami when he's drunk

probably in charge of all snacks for any party

considers gojo a friend but not a friend you’d invite to your wedding

would invite choso to the wedding though

is def saving himself for “the one”

GETO—

double major in psychology & philosophy, has a minor in art(sculpting)

doesn't do any sports but goes to every one of his friend's volleyball games

he and gojo 100% have matching tongue piercings

contacts during the day, wears reading glasses at night

wears nothing but baggy, oversized clothes

def has a streetwear aesthetic

sleeper build 2.0

is an orphan but was adopted into a very well off family

got into college solely on scholarships though

has known, and been best friends, with gojo since childhood

can drink gallos of alcohol and hardly feel tipsy at all like he’s a heavy weight!!

can out drink anyone, even toji

a flirty, flirty drunk

bi king!!!

participated in an orgy once

has the highest body count out of all the men (besides toji ofc)

an instigator especially when it comes to gojo

gojo and him are in charge of inviting people to the parties

also has his nipples pierced but no one knows, not even gojo

covered in tattoos, def has a throat tattoo along with full sleeves and even some on his thighs

him and choso hang out just to paint their nails and drink tea together!!

GOJO—

majors in astrophysics, minors in astromath

plays on the same team as nanami, is a setter/spiker combo

still is addicted t to sweets

has to have sweets to study

is 50% jock and 50% nerd

thinks math and science is so cool

has a matching tongue ring with geto

has a style that screams "old money" (he def came from old money tho)

def think he could pull a “surfer” style off too

a nepo baby too

a horrible influence especially when he’s drunk

“I’ll give you $20 to break this antique vase.”

when he gets drunk-drunk he is just as flirty as geto but is a little more shy

tipsy gojo, talkative, flirty, comedian!! runs all over the place, makes friends easily

absolutely drunk gojo, timid, gets quiet and watches everything and everyone, would 100% tell you in a quiet voice that he loves you before he HIDES

not a light weight at all he just constantly goes over his limit to end up black out drunk

turns bright, bright red as soon as alcohol hits his system

questioning bi!! (experimented with geto once when they were younger)

lost a dare and had to get a horrible tattoo on his ass

the tattoo is squid doodle from spongebob but really badly drawn because a friend def did it

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNING: PAST SUICIDAL IDEATION, attempts of physical abuse (throwing objects), basically reader's mother being a really horrible narcissistic abusive person.

[Please read while listening to this.]

Listen to that. The opening strains of that old Elvis classic began to swell; a hush fell over the assembled guests. All eyes were drawn to the dance floor where Sabrina now stood, radiant in her lovely gown, and Andrew looked at her with such veneration, as if she had hung the very moon in the sky. In the arms of her now-husband for their first dance as a married couple, the newlyweds shone brighter than the stars outside the manor.

Sabrina’s cheeks flushed rosier than any wine—joy, adoration, and yes, a little champagne too—had left her glowing in a way you’d never seen before this man came into her life, and your heart swelled with happiness for her.

When at last the song ended and they shared a lingering kiss, you joined the room in applause. Someone handed them a mic, and the two tried to pass the mic to each other until Sabrina was the first to give a speech. Andrew squeezed her hand, gave her an encouraging smile, and nodded.

Clearing her throat, Sabrina spoke into the mic. “Hi, everyone,” she began, voice ringing out sweet and clear through the speakers. “I just want to say thank you all for being here on this special day. Sharing it with my family and friends who mean so much to me has made it truly magical.” Another applause returned her gratitude before receding again when she was about to continue.

With misty eyes, Sabrina then turned to her step-father. “I want to thank Jim, for raising me as your own since I was little. You’ve always been the best dad a girl could ask for.”

Then, you watched her smile at her mother. “And Mom, where do I even begin? You've been my rock since day one. From keeping me sane while wedding planning to celebrating with me every step, you know I wouldn't be here without you. I wouldn't be the strong, independent woman I am today without you and Jim. I love you both so much.”

When Sabrina's parents—Jim and Joyce—approached her and gave the couple a big hug, another round of applause arose from the guests. But as Joyce placed a final kiss on Sabrina's cheek before stepping back, the world seemed to dim around you.

Suddenly, everything is so foreign—the image in front of you was never presented to you. Aunt Joyce looks genuinely happy for her daughter, and Sabrina hugs her like she cannot imagine life without her mother—which, at some point in your life, you did believe too. Mother’s words, “You won’t survive without me,” ring like angry bees.

Yet now, the thought of sharing a roof with her again feels unbearable.

Joyce and Sabrina look... uncomplicated, despite your mother's statements about how your aunt wasn't prepared for motherhood. And suddenly, everything feels numb, and you're disconnected.

In your reverie, you missed some of the speeches, only blinking back to reality when Sabrina and Andrew’s enthusiastic cheers echoed through the room. The crowd roared as the romantic notes of the new music played, “Until I Found You” inviting guests to join in the dancing.

As you do at the few parties you’ve been invited to in your entire life, you stay away from the dance floor and become a loyal wallflower. However, this time, with a companion—a better people-watcher than you, Simon. The man sweeps his brown irises around, examining people before one makes him chuckle under his mask.

“Look at that old man, still got it in ‘im, eh?” He commented, his tone tinged with amusement.

Your gaze trails Simon's. Among the dancing couples were your other uncle and aunt, their smiles highlighting the lines on their seventy-something faces, clearly having more life in them than many of the younger ones. You chuckled to yourself.

“Actually, that’s Uncle Mick and Aunt Sarah,” you reply, watching the old couple share a laugh amidst the music. “They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. Slow dancing is kind of their forte.”

More people-watching, but you fail to notice how often Simon steals glances at you between his own. And by the luminosity of your eyes, he is drawn like an insect in a blazing fire. His slow, "near-dying" heart has yet to realize the change in him. Simon plays on the edges of the rotting wood.

Straightening his gaze, he strikes up a question: “If that old bugger can still cut a rug, why ain’t the famous ballerina ‘avin’ a spin, eh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Simon’s gruff invitation, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest with a foreign carefree ring that you didn’t recognize. Meeting his eyes, you saw amusement there but also something that told you he was serious. Heart tiptoeing at the edges of your ribs, your fingers busying themselves with their own bustle.

Biting your lip, you gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling a smile curling the corners of your mouth. "I don't know," you shrugged your shoulders. “I might suck at slow dancing.”

Simon scoffed. “Absolute bollocks.”

At his disapproval, your smile widened, teeth peeking out from behind those pretty lips. You gazed up at him, searching for something intently.

Somehow in that moment, the noisy celebration around you seemed to fade into a blur, narrowing your world until it was just Simon standing before you. Your chest warmed, as if caressed by the sun on a lush spring day. Capillaries rushed, painting your bones pink. Pink.

Gathering your courage, you mimicked Simon's invitation. “Unless... you're willing to be the judge of that yourself?”

The question came out just above a whisper, heavy with promise. With your heart dangling at the tip of your throat, anticipation mixed with anxiety gnawed at you faster than any termite. Simon gave a subtle nod towards the dance floor with his chin.

“Come on then,” he rumbled.

As Simon led you, you couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella herself; this room made a fairytale for you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close so your bodies swayed as one. You shyly wrapped your free hands around his neck.

The romantic music continues to flow, caressing your ears with the singer's warm voice, Stephen Sanchez, if your memory serves you right. The merciless thumping in your ribcage persists, and you wonder if Simon feels it, if he has his own version resonating in the hollow of his chest. Settling into a slow sway, you feel his shoulders relax.

“You’re not gonna turn into a swan on me now, are ya? Would be a right shame to ruin such a lovely dance.” Simon asked, tone lighthearted. After mentioning your upcoming ballet performance, he doesn’t slow down his series of jokes about it.

You threw your head back in laughter. “You know that’s not how the story goes.”

Simon's grin grew wide beneath his mask. Cocking a brow, he said, “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, love.” He challenged.

Taking a deep breath that lifted the smile still on your face, you began the long story of Swan Lake—about what happened to Odette and her flock by the sparkling lake and mostly things you had memorized many times. "So when Siegfried finally learns the truth, it’s too late—Odette ends her life by jumping from a cliff.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he reacts, and you let out a girlish laugh. “That’s tragic.”

You shrug. “I always thought it was kind of romantic.” You giggle again—God, the way this man can make you giggle like a silly schoolgirl—when you see the reaction reflected in his eyes.

“You’re a right bloody psycho, you know that?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not a psycho.” Your tone was flat, trying to be serious but the stubborn grin that followed ruined it.

“She should’ve just gone for another bloke.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, she can’t. She’s been cursed to be a swan forever.”

“Then she should’ve just lived out ‘er days as a swan then,” he said with pragmatism, very much lacking the charm of a fairy tale with all those logics. “Should’ve chased that arse’ole prince all over kingdom for revenge instead. Give ‘im a good peckin’.”

You exhaled in exasperation, but your lips held back a smile. “Please just stop talking.”

Simon chuckled, and fortunately, for his own good, he did. The music was nearing its end, but you were still swaying. Something caught his gaze over your shoulder. He looked back at you, raising a brow to make a suggestion.

“Should we do a spin?” he asked.

“What?”

He nods his chin behind you, and you follow suit—a young couple laughing as they twirl. “Should we give it a go?”

It's somewhat whimsical, somewhat absurd, that not only is this hulking man dancing with you, but he also wished to twirl you like you were partners in some grand ballroom. Yet, as you stare into his smiling eyes, you swear there’s a hint of excitement in them. And what good is a ballerina without a performative twirl?

“Okay,” you accepted his offer.

You placed your hand in his, feeling the rough calluses of his fingers but somehow right against your skin. At your subtle cue, Simon raised your joined palms, spinning you outward in elegance and then back into the solid wall of his chest.

“One more time.” You said, and he did as you asked.

You cup his mask-hidden jaw, feeling for each woven polypropylene against your fingers. The plum of your smiling lips swells with desire, and without thinking, you press your lips to his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, gripped by a jolt of trepidation, fear, and regret that perhaps you have crossed a line, that you might drive him away.

But Simon doesn't.

Instead, he seized your waist and drew you close, eliminating any distance between you. The air was snatched from your lungs in a stolen gasp with the force of his possessive move. Like a lover accompanied by passion as he reaps longing.

(I swell with hope, in the sweet desire of a girl seeking love.)

“I’m dyin’ for a smoke.” He confessed.

You glanced around at the lively party still swirling around you. Turning back to him, you suggested, “Should we slip out the back then?”

“Sure.”

Smiling up at him, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze before untangling them from your waist. “You go on ahead—I just need to swap to flats real quick.” You gestured to the high heels that had been enveloping your throbbing toes for hours.

As Simon nodded and turned to go, you hurried off the floor, limping just slightly. The celebratory noise faded as you stepped to the left side of the manor, where the hallway to your room stretched in silence. You turned the doorknob, and the old wood swung with a low creak.

Walking to your suitcase, you flipped it open, took out your Mary Janes, and replaced your high heels with them with a sigh of relief.

Just as you moved to stand, you heard footsteps approaching, then a shadow fell across the open door. Too small to be Simon. Looking up with a start, your heart nearly dropped when you found your mother standing there, arms crossed in a frown full of distaste.

“I've been watching you all night with that… man. You're getting far too comfortable, are you?”

That tone—that same tone that you had heard countless times growing up, signaling the beginnings of an argument. Your shoulders tensed. The pulse inside you quickened as your defenses began to rise, readying themselves in anticipation of the barrage of barbed words that might come next.

The oceans dividing San Francisco and London were supposed to end whatever connection existed between you both—to pretend that it didn’t exist. It should have been a clean finale, allowing you to simply live as a normal girl with normal reactions to everything, as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.

Yet, look, your traitor body is gearing up for battle just the same. Your mind may lie, you may lie, but the wound bearer presents the results of years of being forged beneath her. 5,351 miles stretched, but you are still the same sixteen-year-old girl who bit her tongue, holding her words like a criminal about to be executed on the spot.

What a mother-daughter relationship you have.

You watch warily as Mother begins circling the room, her high heels clicking ominously, slightly showing the red soles beneath them. Louboutins, you remember. You also remember all too well how much those had cost—the very shoes you had “helped” fund years ago when you foolishly still let her access your bank account, even after you turned nineteen.

“Do you know why he’s here?” Mother tries the first question, testing the waters.

Like a frightened little girl—that same little girl from that sunny day so many years ago—you deflect the real question, “Because I invited him.”

Mother, unimpressed, casts you a sharp look, as if daring you to dare her. “You know what I mean. Do you know why he’s here?”

You bit your lip, grasping at straws. “He’s… my boyfriend.”

Mother scoffed mockingly. She turned to you, face contorted in amusement as if you had just told the funniest joke. “Boyfriend? Please. Is that what you think?”

You flinched back as Mother suddenly whirled to face you, her sculpted features twisting into a reflection of pure, unbridled rage. The similar pair of eyes glared at you wide. She buried her nails deep into your epidermis, and you gasped from the sting.

“The only reason a man would want you is between your legs. You think you found love, but really he's with you only because you're easy. You’re just a cheap fuck to him, (Y/N).”

The hot, stinging droplets gathered and spilled over without your permission. You hated yourself for fueling her twisted satisfaction. Hating that she still knew exactly where to aim her barbs to find their mark after all these years.

But nothing compares to the fact that she is your mother. She is your mother, and yet, how could those words come out of her mouth so easily? As if her criticisms had festered within her mind and she was finally allowing them to escape. There's a small, broken part of you that can't help but wonder—and why do you even wonder? You know yourself better than she does, surely.

Or do you?

Or is it true that there really is nothing to take beyond your body like the unloveable, worthless child she always says you are?

You felt a spark of anger flare. “How could you say that to me?” you choked out, baring your wounded heart. Wrong move—you know this, proved many times that showing emotion had never gotten anywhere with Mother before.

But the younger, wounded teenager in you would always crave some kind of validation, some sign she truly cared. Perhaps hidden beneath the person she's become, she still holds a flicker of the warmth she once felt for you. You’re her daughter, and she’s your mother—shouldn’t that be enough for her to finally treat you like one?

“I’m only telling you the truth so you won’t be naive. Do you think he’ll love you when there are so many girls out there who are much prettier than you?”

At times, the wiser you knew not to take Mother’s words to heart—your survival instincts, born of too many experiences, told you not to let her poison seep into your skin. But more often than not, you didn’t know better. Right now, you don’t know better.

(Prying my mouth open, she dripped her bitter blood until we were indistinguishable.)

Clenching your fist, you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t know him.”

Mother’s features bent in hate at your rebellion. The young daughter no more, grown into someone who dared to talk back rather than just gulping down her every word raw.

“And you do?” she spat. “How long have you known this man? Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, but not convinced enough for her to see the gap in your expression.

“Not my business? Of course it’s my business – I’m your mother!”

Summoning the last of your courage, you mumbled, “You’re not… my mother.”

Her neat eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What did you just say to me?”

It was a second chance, one she rarely gave. For a moment, you considered taking it back—rewording your reply to something less confrontational, something safer. But you were sick of it—years of carrying her wounds you hadn’t even caused, weighing your body down and sinking them deeper into pitless hell. Of always looking past her anger and ego, finding justifications and reasons to tolerate her. Of being under her control when the young girl inside you needed her anger represented.

And you repeated it without rewording: “You’re not my mother. Not anymore.”

As it left your lips, you saw a flicker of change in Mother’s expression—was that hurt in her eyes? So foreign was her expression that you almost doubted yourself. Regret seized you along with the guilt and self-loathing that gripped your heart.

Then, the hurt blinked away as if it was never there. “Look at you,” she hissed, “throwing away your mother, the woman who birthed and raised you with great difficulty, all for some worthless man. I'm not even surprised if you end up pregnant in a few months, or maybe you already are. Don't say I didn't warn you when he leaves you with a bastard child.”

And they were right when they said that anger is the most effective key.

Moments ago, you can still find the shadow of that sixteen-year-old girl remains within, with pieces of her innocence—a bit of a child’s grin. Her body is still in fear, yet her eyes are always yearning for praise from her mother’s voice.

However, as the grown woman you are ignites in a seething cauldron of fury—disagreement with Mother’s treatment—the little girl begins to fade, reduced to ashes amidst the fire. The “why” question echoes loudly with demands. I'm your baby—you made me; why do you hurt me?

“Why? Why are you so sure only bad things will happen? Why can’t you believe I can find happiness?” Warm tears welled up, tasting salty on your lips as you asked.

Mother raised a warning finger. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

But you’ve passed the point of backing down. “Why? Why are you so convinced I’ll always be unhappy? WHY?!”

(As if it had been written long before my creation.)

Taking a sharp, short breath, you feel self-control slipping away. Your lungs hitched with condemnation, constricting you, trying to escape the hell Mother handmade just for you. You’re crossing the line; something scolds (the same voice your mother planted early on) inside your head, but you refuse to give in.

The dim red light between the cracks in your skull grows brighter, and the next thing you say are the words you've been holding back for so long:

“I’m not you! And what happened with Dad was not my fault!”

And finally, silence fills the small space between you, followed by the faint echo of your voice. As the last syllable faded, the words that had been spoken left you feeling conflicted. That little girl would consider this disobedience—the result of the doctrine your mother spat at her every day—but all you know now is the strange lightness in your heart, as if shedding a massive burden that you didn’t realize you had been carrying your whole life.

Mother took a sharp, hissing breath, and you saw the subtle quiver in her clenched jaw. “You're out of line,” she said.

“I'm out of line?! You were the first one to cross that line, over and over, hurting me for years, but now that I finally do it to you, now I'm the one who's out of line?!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, all the pain and anger that you had piled up erupting to the surface. “You've always hurt me, said awful things, made me feel like nothing! But the second I did it to you, suddenly I'm the bad one? That's not fair!"

In the blink of an eye, she extends her perfectly manicured hand to grasp the first object within her reach—a heavy crystal paperweight on the table. Your eyes are glued to it, feet ready to flee when she hurls it at you.

“You fucking ungrateful bitch!” she screamed.

Some distant, rational part of you knows you should dodge. But a darker impulse held you frozen, as if welcoming the blunt object to damage your epidermis and even more so to become evidence of her abuse. And perhaps, once the crimson drips from your split temple, it will be enough to reveal the true identity she has been hiding—to destroy the loving mother image she has carefully built for years.

You will make a spectacle of the wound, perhaps even exaggerating it a bit like Mother always did.

It came so close when it landed on the floor next to you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Mother’s face flushed like the devil as she shouted, “I should never have given birth to you!”

Strange, that relief is what washes over you when her words land in your ears. Because for the first time, the two of you agreed on something – she wished you had never been born, just as you had so often wished the same.

Those “precious” teenage years were filled with alternating fantasies—some days hoping she might die, others wishing it was you instead. But you were never able to go through with killing her, or yourself. Because being without Mother meant being utterly lost and alone, and you were too cowardly to cut your wrist open. More days though, you regretted it—how it might have all ended sooner if only you had been braver.

You wonder who's to blame to just make sense of it—perhaps Mother's mother had been cruel, and she thought she had broken the cycle. Perhaps Joyce, for always being the golden child despite everything. Perhaps Dad. Perhaps you.

All those long, drawn-out years, you stayed, you suffered for her. Because the little girl in the bright pink shoes—the color that matched Mother's favorite dress before she threw it away—loved her mother so much. Always making excuses for her. Maybe she didn't know how to love me, or I didn't understand her way of loving me. Maybe somewhere in her anger were kisses in her own language.

You stood frozen as hollowness spread through your chest, as if the eruption had cleansed you until nothing but an empty clarity remained. Even when Simon entered the room, you didn't notice his presence until he spoke.

“Fuck’s all this?” His question didn’t really wait for an answer as he rushed to your side.

Mother smoothed her hair imperiously, then said: “We were just having a talk.”

Simon’s brown eyes scan the scene: the shattered paperweight, Mother’s suspicious fist. He then turns to examine you carefully, searching for any injuries and only letting out a slight sigh when he finds none.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll sort our things.” Simon orders, and without argument, you nod, walking out of the bedroom.

The room felt heavier with tension after you departed, leaving Simon alone with your seething mother. He moved with purpose, in a quick and efficient mind, as he gathered your things—a toothbrush and hairbrush from the bathroom, dresses from the closet, pulling out drawers for any other items. After throwing them into your suitcase, he tidied up his own things with even more haste and less care.

As he picked up his abandoned tie, Mother cleared her throat. “You don’t need to do this, you know. I know my daughter better than anyone, and she’s not what you really need.”

For a moment, Simon paused, jaw working as he reined his temper. Mother thought she had his attention—finally getting him to listen to her. But soon enough, he resumed his task as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Undeterred, she pressed on. “There are prettier, worthier girls than her. Ones who won’t cause you so much trouble.”

Simon’s hands stilled at that, Mother thought she had succeeded in making him consider. Slowly, he turned to face the older woman. But what she read in his eyes was not a realization or even a spark of curiosity. No, it was a look that suggested he knew a lot about people like her, had seen a lot despite him being a decade her junior.

“That what you tell ‘er then?” He began, hate raining down like hail in his voice. “That she ain’t good enough, or pretty enough? That she’s nothin’ but trouble?”

The woman met his gaze, and Simon noticed how her eyes were shaped like yours, except colder, full of twisted conviction whenever she talked about you. “I only speak the truth, for her own good. Someone has to keep that headstrong girl in line before she comes to ruin.”

At that, he let out an impolite scoff, but Simon gave zero fucks. “Yeah? Cause all I see is you tryin’ to keep ‘er under yer thumb.”

Simon watched as the woman's face contorted into an ugly frown of dislike; her mask had been abandoned somewhere. He wondered how you survived all those years at home, how you could still say you “love her to bits” on your first meeting.

But he supposes that’s how children are. Misplaced unconditional love for their lifegivers. Sometimes, his critical mind thinks it’s a shame for the Man in the Sky to give little humans to people who don’t deserve them—to abusers, addicts, snakes like this one right here. But then again, Simon had no right to complain when he stopped believing in any of all that years ago—after he lost everyone that mattered.

"I'm her mother." She repeated.

“And she’s yer daughter. Not yer pet or yer little dog to order about.”

As Simon returned to tending to the bags, the woman took a slow, deep breath. "I know men like you," she replied. “You think you're protecting her—you think you're saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you've grown bored.”

Simon’s tedious task came to a halt, the zipper of the bag half-open. He furrowed his blond brows, brown eyes focused on nothing. Before long, he gathered the bags and shouldered them, his free hand dragging the suitcase as he walked through the gaping door. That woman spoke again, but he turned a deaf ear to her venomous spit.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

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[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Getting Together Recs

A lot of shippy fic has to do with our favorites falling in love, and Shadowgast is no different. Here are nine (nein) fics that have to deal with Caleb and Essek finally getting together. Check them out beneath the cut, and as always, comment or kudos if you like them!

Pink in the Night by queenbeetle (66818, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Otherwise known as The Kryn Courting Fic — essek and caleb pretend to not be in a relationship to the torture of the rest of the Nein

Reccer says: This series is a long time favorite, but more so since it was recently updated with another spicy new work!

Among the Tattered Ruins, We Bloom by Cardinal_Daughter (10055, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After Caleb is wounded in Aeor, he and Essek take some time to rest and explore the growing affection between them.

Reccer says: First of a four part series, this matches the characters well

babe, there's something magic about you by hoper_dreamer (11482, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Two very complicated, broken people finally able to find love after healing as individuals can take time..

Reccer says: A sweet slow burn style fic with a bit of spice at the end

For My Love Lies Patiently by xhorhaus (13596, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An exploration of Caleb and Essek's relationship, throughout and after the campaign, and how they came to love each other.

Reccer says: I love the changing perspectives, extremely sweet and gentle

As Simple As That by Cardinal_Daughter (29250, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

There is so much they should discuss first, before diving headlong into… whatever this is. But Eiselcross is cold, and they’re both so tired of being alone. It can’t really be as simple as that, can it?

Reccer says: I liked it!

The Certainty of Stars by Mushroomknives (1309, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

If Caleb spends one more minute sitting alone on the lounge in the salon, he is going to die.

Reccer says: Beautiful writing, and sweet

hold me down, hold me true by lakrisrot (12600, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

After a run-in with some Kryn soldiers, Essek immediately teleports to Caleb's home in Rexxentrum and begins to question why he made that decision.

Reccer says: It's just the right amount of hurt/comfort, with plenty of delicious guilt and pining and longing glances that build up, and a warm and satisfying ending.

shake the love from me by sixofspades (12 354, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It takes time, and healing, and a slow dance at a Mighty-Nein-style wedding, but Essek and Caleb find their way to each other.

Reccer says: Lovely read ! Great romantic tension build-up and so much love between our wizards. I recommend it !

zweisamkeit by ajaxis (8876, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek explore one of the most dangerous places in Exandria while trying to rekindle their delicate bond. A recounting of what went down in Aeor after the Mighty Nein's journey 'ended'.

Reccer says: Any fic that revolves around the journey Shadowgast went on in Aeor will always have my heart. So far, the chapters have been filled with awkward banter and your typical Shadowgast pining. As well as some POV changes— which are always enjoyable— and a view into our beloved Shadowhand’s head. I find myself anticipating the next update just to see what shenanigans they find themselves in. Especially now that they have reached the ruins of Aeor.

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring Essek's parents - Deirta and Essek's unnamed (temporarily?) dead dad!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 4 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You clapped along with everybody else when the bride and groom made their entrance. You kept a polite smile on your face even as Regina's hand, rested on your knee, had your blood rushing.

The couple would be making the rounds, talking to and thanking guests before speeches were given and toasts were made. Then (finally) the food would be served.

You sipped fizzy apple juice from a champagne flute, leg jittering uncontrollably as you waited for Gretchen and her husband to get to your table. Regina was doing the same, though looking remarkably calmer. Looked like it would take a while, considering the flock of relatives accosting them.

You did not pity them. Those cheek pinches looked painful.

"You gotta calm down," She eventually said, squeezing your leg.

"I can't help it. You know what Gretchen did. I don't even know why she'd- y'know- invite us."

You hoped Regina got your meaning. You'd been broken up for a long time now and it wasn't like Gretchen didn't know. When you'd moved back to town and Mrs George had gotten wind of it, she'd talked very excitedly to all the neighbours about her daughter's best ex living in town.

Gretchen's mom, part of the most pernickety HOA, a soccer mom of extreme intensity and a domineering PTA rep, of course, relayed the information to her daughter—and anybody who'd listen—when she got wind of it from someone. The network of middle-aged women was insane in the area. You digress. There was no way to know this for a fact but you could make an educated guess.

"I suspect it's because she's a heinous bitch," Regina said, casual as ever. "A vengeful, hateful, homophobic bitch."

"Careful, there's ears everywhere." Janis piped up, eyeing the room.

"You know I'm right." Regina defended, eyebrow notched.

"Obviously," Janis made a face like she couldn't believe Regina would suggest otherwise. "But, personally, I wanna get a taste of the menu before we're kicked out."

"Now, that's an idea..." Regina hummed, tapping her chin.

"What's an idea?" You asked. Regina didn't answer. "Reggie. What idea? What ideas are you getting, Regina?" Almost frantic.

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it, babe. I've got everything under control." She teased, pressing a patronizing kiss on your cheek. Your brain made computer whirring noises, blue flashing before your eyes. Rebooting.

"I don't like this," You mumbled into Regina's ear.

"Meet me in the bathroom hallway in five minutes." She whispered back, turning with a coy look in her eye.

You chugged the rest of your drink. Fuck. This was gonna be rough. Shane looked equally nervous but seemed to calm down when Aaron came by. You shook hands very awkwardly. He asked about you and Regina. You told him you were good, that she was good. Maybe your tone was a little too aggressive, leftover from your angsty teenage jealousy, because he settled to chat with his boo from then on.

Five minutes passed very slowly. You eyed your watch for the last minute of it, on the edge of your seat.

"Was nice seeing you, Aaron." You gave a quick, apologetic smile. "Best of luck." Hopefully, that sufficed as an olive branch.

"You too, man, you too," He called after you. You waved behind your back and strode towards the bathroom hallway.

There were too many goddamn guests. You navigated through the throngs of people best you could, muttering sorry and excuse me as you pushed through.

"What the fuck, girl?" You startled when Amanda took you by the cuff. She led you to a nearby wall, so very close to your destination.

"I thought you broke up?" She asked, hissing more like.

"We did. I don't know what's going on."

"Uh, tell her to back off? People are talking that there's, y'know, a very passionate lesbian couple here. Relatives from the bible belt not impressed." Amanda gave you a look, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Have you been lying to me?"

"No!" You denied vehemently. "It sounds crazy, I know, but she just came up to me like that."

"And why didn't you, hmm, I dunno, push her away?" Amanda's eyes turned soft. "She didn't treat you right, we discussed this."

"I didn't treat her much better, Amanda." You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "I... I can't say no to her. I- I don't want to say no."

"This isn't good for you." She said as if you didn't already know.

"Yeah. Well." You spread your arms and let them drop listlessly. "You know me, I do a lot of things not good for me."

"You're hopeless." She turned to the rest of the room. "Just remember, you're my ride home."

Your eyebrows rose.

"You sure about that?" You cast a meaningful glance towards the bar. The same guy, still being bothered by the same lady you were pretty sure, kept throwing helpless glances Amanda's way. She was gonna take that puppy home, he was so her type.

"Are you calling me a slut?" She grinned. "If all goes according to plan, I'll text you where to pick me up tomorrow morning."

"Great. Don't get murdered, yeah?" You patted her on the shoulder. "I gotta go."

"I have your back, Jay. Don't forget that."

You nodded solemnly and continued your journey towards the bathrooms. Just as you crossed into the hallway, looking left first, someone grabbed you roughly by the collar and slammed you against the wall.

"What-" You yelped but didn't get any more words out before Regina descended on you. She took you harshly, lips on yours sealed tight like she was keen on sucking the life out of you. Your body slumped against her, mouth seeking hers as she dipped her tongue in.

It was sloppy, a little gross, and loud. Had you been any other person, some innocent bystander, you probably would've been disgusted. But this was Regina George and she was kissing you. That still floored you.

Regina hadn't kissed you like this since high school. When you spent senior prom at your house, cooped up and pretending it didn't matter all the other couples got to dance and have fun while you hid. When you both got so angry that the only way to find release was in each other. When you broke up and decided you were better separate, crying in the middle of intimacy and so, so desperate.

"Keep your eyes on me, jorts." Regina breathed into your lips. You tasted her, something sweet and minty. "You can go back to your little girlfriend when we're done here."

"Huh?" You made a sound. "What girlfriend?"

"The one you were talking to just now." She trailed kisses to your ear. Your eyes fluttered, heart skipped beats. "You got multiple?"

"No, just you, uh, I mean- she's not my girl." You tried to produce full sentences with mild success. "She's here for emotional support."

"What's your relationship with her?" All these official questions while her hands were roaming under your suit jacket, feeling up your back, scratching with her nails. You shivered.

"Friends." You swallowed, panting as Regina sucked marks on your throat. There would be no hope of covering those up.

"Good," Regina said gutterally, voice almost like a growl as her leg pressed between yours. Oh god, was she going to fuck you right here?

"Now, you're gonna be real good for me and do exactly as I say." She kept touching your sides, your hips, your thighs, and you could not take much more. Her lips dizzied you, talking so low you had to strain to hear every word. Her gloss was all over you, sticky and tacky.

"Reg, what the fuck are we doing?"

"We're pretending, baby, and we're gonna sell it." Your stomach sunk. You knew this was some act but having it spelt out like this, that Regina was using you for revenge, stung. She continued:

"I will do everything in my power to ruin this wedding. I have ideas and I just need you to assist a little bit."

"Regina," You sighed and pushed her by the shoulders, lightly and gently. She went willingly, though with a pout. "You're doing it again. Revenge. This is why we broke up."

"We broke up for many reasons, jorts." She retorted, nails scratching at your tummy. You tried to hide your trembling.

"Yes, and- Regina!" She attached her lips to your pulse, where you were especially sensitive.

"Still got it," She mumbled cheekily into your skin, pressing kisses there just to torment you.

"You're horrible," You whined, hands holding onto her shoulders for dear life. Her leg hiked further up on the wall, pressing against you firmly. You kept your hips still, not daring to enter that territory somewhere so public.

You were at the end of your rope. Not much more now and all reservations would be null. You were sure you wouldn't say no if she unzipped your fly then and there.

"You know I am, baby." She squeezed your waist and sucked a hickey right on your jugular.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, voice weak.

She didn't answer for a while. Just kept touching you, feeling you, kissing you. It was driving you mad but at the same time, you were beginning to feel like the reason didn't matter.

"Good question. Just go with it, yeah?" She breathed, finally pulling away enough to look into your eyes. "You look ravished." She looked so pleased with herself, with a little smirk on her face and her eyes glinting.

"Thanks," You tried to catch your breath.

"Now, we're gonna make out until someone finds us and that'll stir up something." Regina leaned back in but you dodged her kiss, giving her your neck instead. She didn't seem to mind, teeth getting in the mix.

"Y'know there's- there are more effective ways to ruin a wedding than kissing in a secluded hallway." You pointed out.

"Maybe. But this is more fun." She pulled your shirt out of your pants, ruining the careful tuck you'd done. Her hands grabbed at your lower back, nails scraping on your flesh teasingly. She was trying to kill you, surely. You told her so.

"You're gonna kill me, Reg."

"I'd never hurt you." She whispered, sounding more sombre than you would've expected. "You're the exception."

"Why can't you make exceptions for anybody else? Gretchen doesn't deserve this or all this effort."

"Jorts, baby," She brought her lips to your ear, whispering right up against it. You bit your lip not to moan. "You deserve all the effort."

That got you thinking.

"Did I deserve it back then?" You asked, careful, a little too quiet.

Regina paused, hands resting and mouth unlatching. "Yes."

You stood there, breathing together. You were all kinds of messy, so obviously kissed stupid, but you couldn't help the sting in your eyes.

It was dramatic, you knew that, crying over a bygone high school romance. You'd been just teenagers. It shouldn't matter anymore, not at this point when you were both adults. You both had real jobs, your own homes, your own lives.

"I missed you," You said, resting your forearms on Regina's shoulders. You touched your forehead to hers.

"I missed you, too," She said back, just as quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." It felt like a weight lifted off of your chest. "What should we do?"

"How about..." Regina looked up at you through her lashes. You felt lightheaded. Her lipgloss was smeared in the sexiest way. "We get revenge on Gretchen for all the shit she did in high school, for being a homophobic bigot, and for almost getting Kylie expelled."

"Kylie? Expelled?" That surprised you. You hadn't seen Kylie since her sweet sixteenth last year, which she'd invited you to. You stopped by before any of the guests or Regina got there.

"Gretchen caught her kissing one of her younger cousins at their place. A girl. Obvi, Duvall didn't let it fly but it pretty much outed Kylie."

You took a deep breath.

"Let's give the kids kazoos. And water guns. That will ruin any wedding."

Regina laughed. "Where are we getting kazoos? And water guns?"

"I did some volunteer work as a camp counsellor this summer. There's some good stuff in my car." You got an idea then.

"We can lure raccoons into the reception hall!"

Regina cackled.

Notes: I googled "ways to ruin a wedding" and got some awesome results. Look forward to that in the next chapter!

Taglist posted seperately! If you want to be added, please comment on that post!

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Chapter 37

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced!Reader

word count: 3.5K

Warnings: fluff, scare prank, talks about a wedding, nightmares, briefly implied smut, little bit of angst at the end I guess,

A/N: Alright my lovelies were we are with another chapter of our favorite family. We are getting closer to the slight end of the series there are about 4-5 chapters left. Like I said before I still have more things planned but it will mostly likely be fluff fun check ins and maybe Bucky and Sugar's point of view for Steve and Honey's story. So lots still to come but my focus will soon be on A love as sweet as Honey

Series Masterlist

“Daddy, you catch me?” 

“Of course I will, doll.” Bucky smiled up at Lottie. 

“You stay wight the-uh?”  

“I’ll stay right here. All you gotta do is jump.” 

“Kay.” Lottie says as she shimmies backwards. 

Bucky sees her peering back down at him and can’t help but chuckle. Her furrowed brows and concerned blue eyes peek over the ledge. She crouches down and wraps her arms around her knees. 

“You don’t have to do it, doll, it's ok.” 

“No, I do it. Am big girl.” 

“Ok. How about if I count and then you jump?” Bucky suggests. 

“Kay.” 

“1…” Bucky says and he watches as Lottie stands up straight. “2…” her little toes and fingers wiggle around in anticipation. “3…” she giggles nervously. “Jump!” 

Lottie jumps when she’s told to and she splashes into the water. Bucky’s right there to catch her. She’s all giggles as Bucky wipes away the water from her face. It was Lottie’s first time jumping off of a diving board but she did it. 

“You did it, doll. I’m so proud of you. Do you want to do it again?” 

“Yeah.” Lottie nods and Bucky swims to the edge of the pool with her.

With how hectic your lives have been lately you and Bucky had decided to have a pool day with the kids. You wanted to do something fun with them before you continued your wedding planning. The closer the wedding got the less time you would have to do fun things like this. 

Bucky got to the pool before you did since you had to work at the medbay in the morning. You walked into the pool area an hour after Bucky got there. In the pool you first saw Charlotte in her red and gold bathing suit, mini arc reactor painted on the front, swimming. She didn’t have on her life vest or anything else that could help her afloat, she was going it all on her own. The way her legs and arms moved she looked like a little frog. Bucky was right beside her making sure she was ok as she learned to swim. 

“Wook it, mama.” Lottie yelled. “Am swimming wike a big girl.” 

“When did you get so big?” 

You could see her kicking her feet and moving her arms really fast as she treaded water. Her little head bobbed up and down as she looked at you with a smile, some strands of her hair sticking to her face. You got closer to the edge of the pool to talk for a moment. 

“On my biwthday.” She starts to slowly swim in a circle around her dad.

You and Bucky laugh at her very matter of fact answer. 

“Your swimsuit is in that green bag.” Bucky points to a chair. 

“Thanks, babe.” You turn to grab your things before looking back at the pool. “Where’s Henry?” 

“AAAHHH!” Henry yells as he turns himself visible again. He leaped over the edge of the pool and grabbed your leg. 

The scream you let out echoed through the large room. Henry was laughing so hard he was turning red. Half of his body was still in the water.  Bucky and Lottie had joined in on the laughter but you had a hand over your heart. It was definitely unexpected. 

“Henry Grant Barnes. Just wait until I get out here, you’re going to pay for that.” You said playfully before running to get changed. 

**** 

You changed as quickly as you could and thought about how to get Henry back. At the door of the changing room you peek out to see where he was. You saw that Sam and Nat had joined. As quickly and quietly as possible you open the door and slip out. 

Lottie was currently being balanced on Bucky’s hand. She had her arms stretched over her head in a circle and one leg kicked back, like a ballerina would. Sam was both cheering her on and making sure he could catch her if she fell. Henry had his back to you. He was hanging on the edge of the pool while talking to Nat and sharing grapes. You tiptoed to the edge of the pool and when Bucky brought Lottie down with a splash you jumped in and immediately submerged yourself. In a few quick strokes you were across the pool and grabbed Henry by his midsection and lifted him out of the water. Now it was his turn to scream.

“Gotcha.” You said as you pulled his back towards your chest. 

“Mama!” Henry started laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Soon everyone else was also laughing. His head was resting against your shoulder while he calmed down. You turned your head to give him a few kisses on the cheek.

“Told you you’d pay for that.” 

Henry giggled again as you let him go and he took his place by Nat again. 

“I’m watching you mister.” You narrow your eyes in his direction before swimming away. 

For the rest of the afternoon you lounged in the pool and played games with the kids. Wanda and Vision joined soon enough. Finally Steve showed up and was pushed into the pool by an invisible Henry. 

After the day in the pool, dinner and bedtime for the kids, you and Bucky were laying in bed cuddling. You yawn and your eyelids get heavier with how Bucky is rubbing his hand up and down your back. 

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going for our honeymoon?” You ask for the hundredth time. 

Bucky had told you he’d take care of the song for the first dance and the honeymoon since you were already taking most of the wedding planning. He had decided to keep his plans a secret.

“Nope.” 

“But how am I supposed to know what to pack?” You were so excited for this trip you just wanted to try and get any information any way possible.

“Nice try, Sugar but I already have that figured out.” Bucky chuckles as you groan. “Just let me surprise you.” 

“Fine, but it’s a trip you’ll enjoy too, right?” 

“Sugar, you know that I could go to the most boring place in the world with you and I’ll enjoy it. But yes I’m choosing something fun for both of us.” 

“Good.” You say and then break the silence again by asking, “But what is it?” 

Bucky laughed at your insistence. “You’re not getting a word out of me.” 

You pull back and narrow your eyes at him. Bucky gives you a smug grin and raises his eyebrows. He didn’t expect you to straddle him and take both his hands in yours and pinning them above his head. 

“I bet I could get a lot out of you.” You said before leaning in and pressing your lips to his. 

Bucky smirks up at you. “I’ll give you everything I got, Sugar.” 

Bucky walked into your shared home mid afternoon. He was done with his briefing and he knew there were some things that needed to be talked about concerning the wedding and kids. You had taken most of the responsibility even though he offered many times to take some things off your plate. From the wedding to getting the kids into a normal routine, you wanted to handle it all. So it was no surprise that you were more exhausted than usual. Bucky found you napping on the couch with papers and folders sitting on the coffee table. Alpine was curled up on top of your chest, keeping you company. 

Just as Bucky started to smile at the sight, you flinched. Alpine shot up and moved away quickly, annoyed she’d been awakened. Bucky watched for a second as your face contorted with fear and pain. A whimper escapes your lips followed by a small ‘no, please.’. 

“Hey Sugar, it’s ok, it's just a dream.” Bucky whispers. His hands trail up and down your arms. “C’mon you gotta wake up.” 

And you do, with a start. You almost head butt Bucky in the face. He holds you at arms length for a moment until your eyes aren’t glazed over. Your lower lip trembles and he finally pulls you into his chest.

“It was just a dream. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Bucky reassures you gently. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You shake your head and press yourself deeper into his chest. After a moment of calming yourself down you pull away.

“We have a wedding to finish planning.” 

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks. His concern was evident on his face. 

“I’m sure. I’d rather focus on one of the happiest days of our lives.” You smile. 

Bucky nods, letting the subject drop and following you to the dining room to lay out everything you have to go over. You first go over the final guest list making sure you didn’t forget anyone important. Then it was on to seating arrangements at the reception. You were grateful that Bucky was giving so much input and opinions. It was his wedding too after all. He’d been the one to suggest the sweetheart table should include the kids. You smiled warmly at him. 

Once the wedding topics were done, it was on to the kids. Mostly what you wanted to do about school. Tony had offered to get private tutors for them but it was the socializing aspect that worried you. 

“Well the results for the tests Tony and Bruce have done came in. They say that Henry and Lottie could skip a couple of grades.” You say while reading the IQ results from the tablet you had. 

“But do we really want to set them up for that? It could be hard on them being so much younger than the other kids.” Bucky points out. 

“How about if we keep them with their regular age group and appropriate grade and put them in some extracurriculars?” 

“That sounds good. Balance it out so they won’t be bored?” Bucky nods as he says it. 

“Daddy. You home.” Lottie makes her way to Bucky. 

“Hi doll.” He kisses the top of her head. 

“Is doing wedding stuff?” She asks as Henry sneaks his way onto Bucky’s lap, too. 

You smile as you watch each kid settle on one of his thighs as he answers her question. The kids ask a couple more questions about the wedding before Bucky mentions school. 

“I stay with mama.” Lottie says.

“Me too. I don’t want to go to school.” 

“I would love for you to stay with me all the time but you have to go to school.” You say.

“But I already know a bunch of stuff.” 

“Bubs, there's a lot of things you still have to learn. That’s what school is for.” bucky adds. “Besides you would get to meet new people and make friends.” 

“And we were talking about you guys choosing something fun to do after school.”

“Like what?” Henry asks, turning more to look at you better. 

“Like playing a sport on a team or learning to play an instrument.” 

“Oh dancing? Can wearn that?” Lottie asks excitedly.

“Of course, there’s all types of dancing you can learn. Is that what you want?” You smile as you ask her.

“Yeah, I dance wike Auntie Nat.” 

“You want to be a ballerina?” 

“Mhm, and dance on my tippy toes.” Lottie sticks her foot up in the air and wiggles her toes. 

“You’ll be the prettiest ballerina, doll.” Bucky says before turning to Henry. “What about you? What do you think you’ll want to try?” 

“I don’t know, yet.”

“It’s ok my sweet boy, you can think about it and we can find something you’ll like later.” 

“Ok.” 

“Now, the real question is, who is going to help me with the cake tasting that’s in a few days?”

“Me!” Both kids yell at the same time and you can’t help but laugh. 

This is what you focus on as you fight to keep the nightmares at bay. All you wanted to think about was your family and your future. 

You woke up again with a start. Tears streaming down your face and a scream caught in your throat. Nightmares were starting to plague you more the closer you got to the day you were taken. It was always the same thing. Just as you were going to say I do, the sky turned black. There were gunshots and fire. Bucky would grab Lottie while you took Henry’s hand. As you ran away from the darkness that was crawling towards you, you pushed Henry away towards the safety Bucky provided. When he turned to reach for you, you found yourself strapped to a table with people hovering over you. A voice taunted you and told you how they were going to get Bucky and the kids this time. That you’d never have a chance to be happy or see the kids grow up or even grow old with Bucky.

Bucky would almost always be by your side and managed to calm you down but this particular night he was out on a mission. So you sat in your room in the dark, taking deep breaths until you managed to calm down. The same dark thoughts running through your mind over and over again. Knowing you won’t be able to go back to sleep again, you go into your closet and search until you find a small box that holds only one thing in it. You pull out the small thumb drive, get your laptop and sit down. You’d had this information for months and were unsure of what to do but now you knew you had to act. There was no way you could continue to live your life without making sure all of hydra was gone.

After your decision has been made you paced around your room for a bit. The truth was this scared you to death. Things could go right but they could go wrong too. But this was your mess to clean up. If you told anyone on the team, especially Bucky, someone else would handle it. This was your responsibility and you were willing to do anything to keep them safe. You had to make sure this ended.

Before getting dressed you stopped by the kid’s rooms. Although you shouldn’t be surprised to find Henry and Lottie cuddled up in his bed with Alpine curled up at the foot of the bed. You smiled as you watched over them for a few minutes. 

****

You were standing in the living room looking out through the large double doors that faced the backyard. It would only be a few minutes before your dad showed up to stay with the kids since everyone else was on a mission and they would try to stop or want to go with you if they knew. 

“Mama?” Henry’s sleepy voice startles you out of your deep thoughts. 

You turn to see Henry leading a sleepy Charlotte down the steps. 

“Sweet boy what are you doing up?” 

“Lottie had a bad dream.” He yawns. “We couldn’t find you in your room.”

“C’mere sweet Angel.” You pick Charlotte up and sit down on the couch with Henry sitting beside you. “What was your dream about?” 

“Mama was cwying. And I see bad woman. She so mean, mama.” 

“Are you going on a mission?” Henry asks as he finally takes in your clothing. 

“I am. But I’ll be back soon.” 

“I thought you said you weren’t going on any more missions.” 

“I know,” you caress his cheek. “But this is really important. I have to do it to keep all of us safe.”

“What about dad? Is he going with you?” 

You could see how anxious he was getting. 

“Baby, your dad is on a mission right now ok? But I promise everything will be alright. If he comes back before I do, don’t worry him about my mission. Can you do that for me?” 

Henry studied you, he had the same look Bucky did when he was concerned. Fortunately he nodded although he did so reluctantly. There wasn’t much more time since Eddie had just gotten to your house.  You put the kids back into bed and promise them that everything will be ok. 

“Is everything ok, kitten?” Eddie asks as he walks you to the door. 

“Everything is fine. I’m just needed for a mission.” 

“Be careful and come back to us in one piece ok?” 

“I will, dad. I love you.” You give him a quick hug.

“I love you too.” He says as he watches you go.” 

It was early morning when you landed in the empty field. You had some knowledge on flying the jet so it was a bit rocky. Thankfully there was autopilot and assisted landing. You stood at the top of the ramp and wondered if this was the right move. Deep down you know it was but it wouldn’t be easy for you. 

Checking your gear one last time you finally leave the jet. You’re looking down at a small town in a valley. From that vantage point you could see everything. It’s a small community, no more than a few hundred people. But you didn’t come here for any of them. The person you’re looking for is hiding up a mountain in a small cabin. Hiding like a coward.

Before you went there you had to make another stop. Another cabin about a mile away. So you turn away from the town and head into the forest. 

****

You stand just behind the tree line. A single cabin sitting in the middle of a small field. You watch and wait until four men head out. Once it’s clear, you move fast around the small two bedroom cabin. It’s bare, there’s no warmth to any room. As you suspected, this was just a safe house. But you were sure there was information you could use. Being careful to not move things out of place too much. 

In the small living room there was a desk pushed up against a wall just under a window. There were all kinds of files spread across the desk. Some open with pictures and detailed reports. You rifle through them and your blood runs cold. These weren’t just random reports but information about you, your dad, Luke, Sophia and Joshua. Even Molly and Olivia are included. Their schedules and pictures are in there too and they all seem recent.  

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and your eyes snap up to the window. You can just make out a silhouette right behind you. Everything happened slowly but somehow fast at the same time. You threw a kick backwards, sending your opponent crashing through the opposing wall. As soon as you turned around three more were coming at you. 

“We were told you’d be coming by. Didn’t think it’d take you this long.” One of them said as he lunged at you. 

They all had knives in their hands and it’s the first time you realize there was very limited metal in the cabin. These people had been waiting for you. Now you’d show them what you could do. Fortunately you had your metal bracers and used them to your advantage. It wasn’t difficult for you to fight them off and leave them where they fell. The only thing you did was take their dog tags off and stuff them in your pocket, then grab the documents with your family’s information. With one final look around you head up the mountain. 

**** 

This cabin was larger than the first one. It had a large porch with a porch swing. The curtains were open to allow the sunlight in but there was no one home. With a flick of your wrist you unlock the door and slip inside. This place was prepared for someone more important. Paintings on the wall were expensive originals from famed artists. Everything you’d ever need to live in a remote location was available. Nothing was out of place as you walked through the hallway and into the living room, the kitchen, then the dining room and the bedrooms in the back. 

After a thorough inspection you remove all hidden weapons and find more documents on your family. This time Bucky, Henry and Charlotte are included. You’d read something similar before, a list of experiments and procedures they had to endure. Your own file was to the side, all of them with neatly written notes on the margins. It made you uncomfortable reading what had been done to you but you grabbed everything and headed towards the living room where you laid everything out. 

Then you waited. 

**** 

The sun was high in the sky when steps on the porch finally broke the silence. A jingle of keys echo through the hallway, followed by the soft click of the door closing again and more steps. From the shadows emerges the one person you weren’t ready to face but had to. 

“Mother.” 

Ch. 38

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[itficlibrary]

This week's fic rec theme is 2024!

The following are recs for some of your + our favourite fics to come out within the last year (with a bonus bingo board at the end)! Thanks so much to anyone who sent in their faves!

For fans of soulmate aus & richie tozier’s crippling self-loathing, try:

• Three weddings (and my funeral) by witchietozier (@witchiewitchie)

(23k words + ongoing)

This is a soulmate au (although it very much feels like its own thing), wherein Richie and Eddie are set up to pretend to be soulmates for stanpat’s wedding. Featuring unique & bubbly prose, several awkward situations and musings on a delightfully pathetic Richie’s psyche.

For fans of kid fic & family feels, try:

• It’s a cruel summer with you by eddiekaspbrakirlsblog (@eddiekaspbrakirlsblog)

(21k words)

A series of seven short fics centered on the toziers having a beach house and eddie spending summers with them there, following reddie from age 4 to adulthood. This dedicates a lot of time to characterising Maggie & Went Tozier (as good parents!) and is packed with fluffy childhood innocence & found family themes.

For fans of fix-its & tenderness:

• Hold on and hope we’ll find our way back in the end by rcdwings 

(27k words)

A good old fashioned rewrite & fix-it of IT 2019, through Eddie’s eyes and then Richie’s. Featuring all the missing scenes & extra character beats you could want from the movie, a very sweet Maggie Tozier portrayal and a pretty, elegant writing style.

For fans of teen fic & pining, try:

• Well, that’ll be the day, when you say goodbye by thewayilovetheocean (@derrypubliclibrary)

(4k words)

A look at Richie’s in-full-bloom feelings for Eddie and all the angst surrounding that, set before he leaves Derry around 1991. Featuring plenty of internalised homophobia, classic teenreddie banter and a gently hopeful ending.

For fans of lucky 7 ensemble pieces & balls to the wall fun:

• If love is the answer, you’re home by kissbrak and richiebeepbeep (@toziers)

(55k words)

A fic based on Tag (2018), wherein the losers play an annual game of tag and fall in love along the way. It switches focus around all of the losers, gives so much depth & complexity to every single relationship and is all round a deranged & extremely fun romp!

For fans of t4t reddie & awkward meet-cutes, try:

• Switch-hitters by sheepknitssweater 

(16k words)

This follows a t4t reddie who meet via softball to the face, and the rest is history. This fic’s style is snappy and lively, its characterisation (especially of Richie) is uber charming, and it deals insightfully with its themes of internalised transphobia and identity.

For fans of funny meet-cutes & haters of sonia kaspbrak, try:

• Come for aunt Brenda’s green beans, stay for the drama by asexual_asshat (@asexualasshat)

(5k words)

Richie meets Eddie on Tinder and they conspire to ruin the Kaspbrak family thanksgiving (to piss off mrs k of course). Featuring these two being absolutely crazy about each other, plenty of hijinks & comedy and eventual smut.

For fans of college fic & heavy angst, try:

• Go on and on and on until by tozierlvr (@tozierlvr)

(160k words)

A series wherein Richie and Eddie (unknowingly) reunite at college after the events of IT chapter one, documenting their entire relationship from start to…uh…end. It’s got super realistic 2nd puberty, eventual gut-wrenching angst, and stays ‘canon compliant’ while adding the most unique tweaks.

For fans of pining & domesticity, try:

• Don’t want to let you go (‘til you see the light) by nonbinary (@oshaskell)

(6k words)

This oneshot sees reddie in a roommates scenario, wherein Richie is working up the nerve to finally ask Eddie out. reddie’s weird little dynamic in this is natural and endearing (Eddie bites Richie at one point), there are cute flashbacks via old videos, and overall this is an extra warm and cozy read.

For fans of soft, happy endings & richie tozier’s wooing attempts, try:

• Take a right at the light by moichi (@clownbrainrot)

(6k words)

This follows Richie on an odyssey to shoot his shot with Eddie, and the mounting obstacles he faces on the way. It’s got bevchie best friendship, a sweet ending and is extra generous with its low-stakes-high-comedy Richie suffering.

For fans of short-but-sweet fics in a corporate setting, try:

pour myself a cup of ambition by searcher_of_amroth (@spagedster)

(8k words)

Richie and Eddie meet by chance because they both have been mandated to see a HR counsellor at their workplace. Featuring oh-god-he’s-cute on both sides, with alternate points of views (a personal favourite!), and plenty of cute moments as they both try to woo the other!

For fans of time loops and happy endings, try: 

again, again, again by watchoutforthefanfics (@watchoutforthefanfics)

(12k words)

Richie gets stuck in a time loop and has to save both Eddie and Stan. It goes about as well as you think it would! Features emotionally constipated Richie Tozier (as he should be), angst (as there should be), and healing (as there should be). 

For fans of fics set during the 27 years in between and bittersweet endings, try:

familiar by fredastaire (@it2017)

(23k words)

During the 27 years, Eddie returns to Derry once: for his mother’s funeral. Mike is there to help him through it. I love this fic so much! This fic contains Kasplon relationship dynamics, Remembering Your Childhood, and Dealing With Your Emotions About Your Mother. 

For fans of Reddie bickering and Benverly, try:

double date by beefcakebeetle 

(17k words)

Richie, Eddie, and Ben come to Chicago to help Beverly move her stuff out of Tom’s house. Then, Ben and Bev trick Richie and Eddie into going on a double date! Featuring a lot of cute dynamics between these four, and alternating points of view! 

For fans of communication and character studies, try:

remembering you by loelight 

(13k words)

Richie and Eddie have a long conversation. Set post Chapter 2. A really cute, fluffy fic! Featuring The Kissing Bridge(™), very little emotional constipation, and a happy ending.

For fans of the Awkward Teenager Drama and slice of life genres, try:

crosseyed & painless by bellbawttoms (@gaylittlerichie)

(58k words)

Eddie gets a girlfriend and Richie loses his absolute mind. Featuring the Authentic Pathetic Teenager Experience, You Guys Just Wouldn’t Get It, Nobody Understands Me, a slice of life in the 80’s in every chapter, and self discovery. 

For fans of character studies and introspection-heavy fics, try:

Octopus’ garden by searcher_of_amroth (@spagedster)

(16k words)

Character study fic with a focus on mental health set post Chapter 2 events. Featuring a chapter for each loser (two for stan!), and a whole lot of resolutions and tying up loose ends.

For fans of coming of age fics with plenty of slowburn, try:

that teenage feeling! by fredastaire (@it2017) 

(50k words)

Explores Eddie coming to terms with identifying as a trans woman. Set during the 27 years, and features plenty of miscommunication, introspection, and character and relationship analysis, as well as Richie Tozier as a narrator(™).

For fans of character-accurate communication and post-canon fics, try: 

Dance slow decades by xosmia 

(16k words)

Eddie shows up in Los Angeles in the middle of the night without any warning. Richie and Eddie have a couple of long conversations and reconcile their relationship, both platonic and not.

For fans of fix-it fics, try: 

a murmur beneath my skin by mikripetra 

(26k words) 

Richie and Eddie bump into each other randomly at a grocery store in their thirties. It triggers a butterfly effect that neither of them could have seen coming. Featuring character studies, hurt/comfort, and psychological horror. 

Here’s a bingo board for you to cross off, with bonus spaces to find more! Check out these resources to help you leave some comments along the way!