#to this day i still remember the red herring | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sp0o0kylights · 2 days ago

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Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

xXx

Here’s the thing about the kids.

Mike can be downright squirrely when he wants to be.

The guy is all long-limbs and ever-changing moods, and the second he spots Steve he vanishes around the corner and leaves no trace of himself behind.

Dustin, similarly, is catty.

The kid’s not fast, but when cornered, he has a tendency to do the most insane, ridiculous things.

Currently Steve is ninety percent sure he just saw him jump out a window, and the only reason it’s not one hundred is because his eyesight isn’t the greatest these days, and it’s entirely possible Dustin found something to put that stupid Weird Al shirt on and threw that out the window instead,

It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

Knowing this, Steve automatically goes for the easiest target: Lucas.

See, Lucas is, of course, the most athletic and the only one likely to give Steve a run for his money should he too, decide to bolt.

He also was the most likely to stop and actually talk to Steve, because unlike his friends, he possessed some emotional maturity.

Or just maturity in general.

“Come on Luc, what’s going on?” Steve calls out, the second he rounds the corner and spots the kids. “You’re freaking me out.”

That makes Lucas stop and come to him, while the other two dipshits bolt.

Steve leans against a wall, eyebrow raised as Lucas slinks forward, but knows instantly from the grin the kid’s trying to hide that whatever’s going on right now, is their usual kind of bullshit.

(An internal part of him, the part that has to deal with the unusual bullshit every six months or so, sighs in relief.)

“Okay, you have to swear not to be mad.” Lucas starts, which is never a good sign, but at least it’s coming from Steve’s second most trustworthy kid.

(Will still holds first place, after the time he ratted out Mike for dumping nail polish all over Max’s jacket.

“She was super rude, but she didn’t deserve that.” Will had said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Steve had ruffled his hair and together they had plotted a way to get revenge on Mike without letting Max outright murder him.)

“We uh, might have heard that you were being auctioned off tonight.”

Which was not at all where Steve thought this was going to go.

“Okay?” He hedges, waiting to see where Lucas spills the part that makes Steve worry.

“So you played D&D with Erica and Dustin, and neither of them will stop bragging about it.” Lucas says, a slight pink coloring his cheeks, “--and Mike won’t say it, but I know it bothers him too so we thought we could, uh, buy you. For the day.”

Lucas sends out his gigawatt grin, the one he uses when he’s trying to be his most charming. “To make you play D&D with us.”

Something warm and soft blooms in Steve’s heart. A kind of love he’d never had before hauling the little shits out of the line of fire the first time.

These kids were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“If you ever tell the others I said this I will deny it ” Steve says, pulling out his wallet and forking out a handful of twenties. “But I would be happy to play your dungeons and dipshits game with you.”

Lucas doesn’t even correct him as he accepts the money with a grin--a real one this time. “Really?” He says, and it's so stupidly hopefully it makes Steve’s heart squeeze.

He reaches out, pulling the kid in for a hug for a second. Claps him on the back a few times before pushing fondly at his head.

“Over being taken on a date by some middle aged woman? Absolutely. But like I said,” He playfully shoves Lucas away, “You tell anyone and I will deny, deny, deny.”

“Sure Steve, whatever.” Lucas says, before running off to go find his friends.

Steve watches him go for a moment, smile on his face, before turning back to the gym.

He’d rather play D&D with the kids any day over dealing with this farce.

(The shocking thing, he finds himself thinking as he wanders over to where the other dates are situated, is that he means it. Even if a hot, beautiful girl bid on him--he’d rather spend the day with the kids.

Doesn’t that just say something about his life these days?)

xXx Eddie xXx

His club was going to kill him.

Normally, missing a game would be downright heresy. Betrayal of the highest order, particularly considering he’s the damn dungeon master. Sure, other people can DM, but not for the current ongoing campaign, which means Eddie landing his sorry ass in detention disrespected the sanctity of both his club and his people.

A fact he will need to beg on hands and knees to makeup for.

The siren song of the microphone, nevermind the idea of having an honest to god stage to prowl around on at lunch was simply too much for Eddie to resist, particularly when it came to his anti-Valentines Day speech.

Not that he was the type of guy to roll his eyes at all the lovey-dovey crap floating around, but more that people could be so stupid about it.

…and maybe he was a little bit jealous.

Eddie convinces himself it’s fine. He plans to have a session for the missed game on Sunday, when he knows his friends had planned to hang out at his place anyway.

Still feels bad about it as he walks down the halls of Hawkin’s high, annoyed that detention took as long as it did.

There’s people milling around, in the kind of stupid dressed up clothes that wasn’t formal, but could be described by evil words like “business casual.” The best skirts and knitted tops, slacks for the men paired with button up shirts or polos.

Like a fucking swarm of Steve Harrington’s--without any of the guys charm.

Not that he had any charm.

Definitely not.

Eddie gives an overactive shudder to clear his head, making his way out of the school as fast as he can.

Because life, the universe and everything in it hates him, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie! Oh thank god, look guys it’s Eddie!”

For the briefest of seconds after hearing Henderson’s voice, Eddie’s worried no one thought to tell the kids that Hellfire had been canceled.

Or, considering Eddie’s over the top response to the first time one of them had tried to miss a campaign night, they might be worried he’s dying (rather than simply an “unbearable idiot” as Jeff had called him earlier.)

His freshman lambs quickly swarm him, three pairs of eyes staring with weird amounts of hope (Sinclair, Henderson) and awkward embarrassment (Wheeler.)

“Eddie! Eddie, they're only letting Juniors and Seniors place the actual bets!” Dustin sounds frantic, practically vibrating in place before him. “They won’t let any of us bid on Steve!”

Any fondness Eddie felt evaporates in a puff of vexed smoke.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He challenges, raising an eyebrow.

For once, the freshmen don’t cringe back.

Instead he’s treated to steel sliding across Henderon’s face, Sinclair right behind him and Mike, who refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes, but stands with his friends anyway.

“Come on, think of all the chaos it’ll cause!” Dustin is pleading, his hands waving in the air in a way that reminds Eddie of himself. “Isn’t that like, you’re whole thing? Going against ‘the Man’!?”

Yes, because publicly buying Harrington for a date in front of Hawkin’s self-proclaimed elite was a great way to stick it to ‘the Man’, instead of, say, painting yet another target on his back.

“I don’t think getting into a bidding war over taking Steve Harrington on a date is going to go over well.” He deadpans.

Dustin throws his hands in the air. “It doesn’t have to be a date! ”

“Jennifer’s mom’s friends bid on her. For a girls night.” Mike adds so quietly it takes a minute for the words to process.

“Just saying!” He adds frantically, as though Eddie is going to call him out for this betrayal.

Considering the downright fearful look he’s wearing, Eddie might just do it for shits and giggles in his next campaign.

“We’re begging you, don’t you want to see Steve play D&D? We promise you can even watch the whole thing and embarrass him or whatever!” Dustin continues, hands clasped together in front of him.

“There you idiots are.” A judgey, annoyed voice calls, cutting into the conversation.

Eddie has never met Sinclair Jr. but immediately assumes the girl walking towards them with her arms firmly on her hips must be her “Steve’s up next, idiots. I know you know how auctions work, so I shouldn't have to remind you about having to physically be in the room to bid on him.”

She stops, cocking her head challengingly. “Unless one of you is going to call in from a payphone?”

Cheeky.

Eddie loves cheeky.

Even if she is eleven.

Muted calls ring out again from the gym. Apparently Hawkin’s middle aged women have started their fight for a day spent with one of the “young, local heroes”.

The very thought of Steve, all scraped up in the stupid Scoop’s Ahoy sailor uniform, guiding kid’s out of the mallfire with his broad chest and buff arms and--

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, bouncing frantically in place.

‘Head out of the gutter, Munson!’ He thinks, annoyed at himself (and perhaps, a little bit more understanding of the ladies shouting out numbers in the gym).

“Do you still only have five dollars?” He says, and it's not defeat, not yet, but he can see the hope reignite in their eyes.

This was stupid. A stupid, stupid, stupid idea!

“We have a hundred now.” Lucas says firmly, which is at least a lot more than five.

The calls from the gym are playful but there’s a catty undertone now. Those women really want that date with Steve, and Eddie knows walking in there, bidding on Harrington is a death sentence.

Dustin’s done something to his eyes. They’re wide, shined over like he’s about to cry. Like this fucking matters to him.

It drills into Eddie in a way he hates. How the three of them, (even Mike who is still trying his best not to act like he wants this) are handing him all their dreams. He’s someone they look up to, someone who can make things happen, and he’s always liked that feeling--but this?

This was asking a lot.

“Eddie man, please. You’re our only hope.” Dustin says it softly, and goddamn him, it’s like he knows Eddie is weak for this shit. That under all his leather and chains that he cares.

About them.

He just wishes what they didn’t care about was fucking Steve Harrington.

He knows they think the guy hung the moon. Just as he knows he'll need more than money to fend off the competition and actually win Steve: he'll need a plan.

Knows, even, just how he’ll do it.

“Baby Sinclair, a word?” He crooks a finger, walking a few paces backwards as a plan rapidly forms.

She flicks her eyes over to him, and with an appraisal that says she had already judged him and found him lacking. “It’s Erica.”

Eddie bows low to her, arm brushing the floor. “My deepest apologies, Lady Erica.”

She rolls her eyes but comes over anyway and lets Eddie whisper in her ear.

Read the rest on A03: LINK

#valentines day is coming around #so Im posting this again #buy a date #get a date #Steve Harrington #style #steddie #in which steve participates in a charity auction by force #the Party intervines #and Eddie ends up having to DM a one shot with Steve #that totally isn't a real date #no matter how much Steve is acting #like it is very much a real date #getting together #0o0 fanfics #robin buckley #steve harringtons smooth moves which in this case involved learning a magic trick

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borathae · 2 days ago

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↳ Index [Snippet #55 - Body Chains]

“When you get drunk on a houseparty and sneak away to fuck.”

Genre: married life!AU, houseparty!AU, Smut

Warnings: switch!Kook, switch!Reader, the switching in this is so good, they get drunk together & dance their hearts out, he is so effortlessly attractive, ah yeah they also have a lil roleplay where they pretend to be strangers meeting at the party (they last ten minutes bahhaha), Jungkook’s tiny waist, he wears body chains + a crop top and oiled himself up, I’m literally foaming at the mouth, Wednesday!JK levels of devoted & needy vibes from him, drunk giggles & making out, he is a very giggly and vocal drunk, he is also a goof <3, consensual & mutual drunk sex, thigh riding, dry humping, cumming in her panties, dirty talk, mutual stripping, nipple play & licking for him, whiney Koo <3, a very quick blowjob ofc, the bodychains stay ON during sex, rough penetrative vaginal sex in Mating Press & Deep Missionary, clit play, his chains hit her clit as he fucks her, creampies, sappy & cuddly aftercare, ah yeah they do all that in Tae's bed JFAJDFJ & he has no idea bruh

Wordcount: 9.4k

a/n: this is based on anonie's idea. But listen. this is lowkey a story about his waist jsjsj like i kept thinking of all the dainty waist koo pics which exist and you besties have no idea how feral i feel for his waist like i am OC in this story, this is practically me jjajaja either way, have fun besties 🧡

You are at Jimin’s place today, getting ready for Taeseok’s (that’s how Hoseok and Taehyung like to jokingly call themselves to your friend group) annual summer party. Most of the town’s party folk is going to be there and you have been looking forward to it for weeks. You still remember how you and Jungkook snuck glances at each other when you weren’t a thing yet and how he got jealous of Taehyung “hooking up with you”. Oh times were so much spicier back then. Not that you would ever want to trade the safety and comfort you have with Jungkook these days, but sometimes you miss the sparks of being in the getting to know each other stage.

This is why you are currently at Jimin’s place, while Yoongi is at your place. You and your best friend are going to go to the party together, while Yoongi and Jungkook will go there as a duo. You plan on meeting each other there and pretending to be strangers meeting for the first time.

The plan is perfect and so sexy.

Jimin is singing loudly, dancing to the song on the radio as he is putting on his eyeshadow. You sit on the floor in front of the mirror, busy with your own eye makeup. You join him in song every now and then, dancing in your seating position and laughing loudly whenever Jimin twerks way too aggressively.

Your days of youth might have passed already, but mentally you still feel like a late teen getting ready with your best friend for the best night ever. Especially this year around where you pretend to get ready to meet “your potential new boyfriends” at the party. Oh it is so much fun to play this silly little game of pretend.

You and Jimin already shared a bottle of sparkling wine, feeling giggly drunk.

“What do you think? Red or peach?” Jimin asks, holding up different kinds of blushes against his cheeks.

“None of them. Pink. It fits with the top.”

“You know what? You are so right, girly”, Jimin says and switches the blush to a pink one. He smiles so his cheeks stick out and applies a generous amount on his face. You busy yourself with applying mascara, pulling a silly face for it.

Jimin finishes first, posing in the mirror.

“Do you think that there’s gonna be cute boys at the party?” he asks for the sake of the roleplay.

“I hope so. I really wanna make out tonight.”

“Yes god, that would be so much fun. I wanna grind on a cute boy. I’m not gonna stop until he’s hard.”

“Of course you won’t. God bitch, you’re such a whore.”

“I so am”, Jimin agrees and turns to dance to his jewellery stand. He drinks from the bottle as he does, singing to the song whenever he can.

You are almost done with your makeup. Only your lips are missing now. Then a quick touch up of your hair and you can stand up.

“What do you think?” you ask, pulling a pose.

Jimin studies you from head to toe.

“Biiitch you look hot dot com. I bet the boys are gonna fight for your attention.”

“Thank you, thank you. I tried.”

“Well you definitely nailed it. You look sexy as fuck”, Jimin says and holds up two pairs of earrings, “left? Right?”

The left is a pair of silver sterling hoop earrings. The right is silver as well, but two studs with a white gemstone in the middle.

“Left. Definitely. The right ones are way too boring.”

“Good choice”, Jimin says and looks at the small stand mirror, “I’m so excited, seriously. Taeseok’s summer parties are always so much fun.”

“I know, right? I’m already so curious about DJ Tete”, you snicker at the name, “I wonder how he’s gonna do.”

“I bet he’s gonna be awesome. What’s the time by the way?”

You check your phone. A picture of you and Jungkook is looking back at you. He is leaning in and kissing your cheek while you are smiling into the camera. Your heart flutters. You are so excited to see him at the party.

“___?”

“Huh?” you let out, meeting Jimin’s eyes.

“The time. Girl, did you just stare at your screen?”

“Sorry, I looked at the pic”, you say, showing him your lock screen, “he’s so handsome. We went on a beach walk with Bam when we took this pic. God, I love this man so much.”

Jimin chuckles, “hey, pretend. Girl, you don’t know him yet. You’re single and ready to mingle.”

“Yeah right. Ah shit, I forgot”, you whine.

Jimin laughs, “that’s fine, I get you. I keep wanting to text Yoongi updates on my outfit. You think they’re almost ready too?”

“Yeah probably. Kook’s been planning his outfit all week. He didn’t let me see it even once. I’m going crazy because I wanna know what he picked out.”

“Same, oh my god”, Jimin exclaims, “Yoongi’s been locking his office since Wednesday ‘cause he has his outfit in there. I’m going crazy. I need to see him or I might pass away.”

“I feel you, god”, you groan, throwing your head back in frustration, “what do you say, should we text them that we’re ready already?”

“No”, Jimin snatches your phone away, “pretend. We’ll meet them at the party. Maybe, wink wink.”

“Fine urgh”, you give up, “now give me back my phone and let me have a sip as well.”

Twenty minutes later, you are in front of Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s place. Hoseok opens the door for you, greeting you with his brightest heart shaped smile. He is in jeans shorts and a neon green crop top which really showcase his defined ab-lines. He matches his nails to the shirt.

“Look at you guys. I’m so happy that you could come”, he cheers and hugs you tightly. The masculine scent pf his cologne tickles your nose.

“Of course we’d come. Your summer parties are the highlight of the year”, you tell him.

“Yeah dude, we’ve been looking forward to it for months”, Jimin says, hugging him.

Hoseok steps back with a squeaky giggle, looking happy about the praise.

“What can I get you?”

“We’re gonna look around for a little if that’s okay. Is Tae already playing DJ?”

“Not yet, he’s by the pool with Joon and Jin.”

“Nice, we’re gonna say hey.”

“You sure that you don’t want me to get you something?”

“Fine, get us your special cocktail. I know you have something brewing.”

Hoseok grins, “that’s what I like to hear”, he says and hurries away in happy skips.

You and Jimin make your way outside to the pool.

Your friends are chatting with each other, holding cocktails. Namjoon and Seokjin are wearing matching fishing shirts, while Taehyung is wearing a fishnet shirt with leather shorts. He spots you first, lifting his hand to wave you over. Namjoon and Seokjin smile, waving as well.

“Hey guys, nice outfits”, you greet them, giving each of them a hug.

“Right? We bought it at a gas station for ten bucks. And look.”

Namjoon and Seokjin do a synchronized twirl, showing off their back. The words “New Dad Alarm” is stitched into the back in neon yellow lettering.

“Why?” you laugh, “you guys aren’t even dads.”

“No, but it’s the vibe that counts.”

“You guys look like a couple of fishing gays celebrating the adoption of their child”, Jimin teases.

“And? It’s the vibe that counts”, Seokjin throws back to which Namjoon snaps his fingers sassily.

“Alright, we’re not gonna stop your fishing gays with an adoptive child vibes”, you joke with a snicker on your lips, “and you? Are you the fishing net to the fishing gays?” you address Taehyung.

“Hey, uncalled for. I’m a hot queer with a nice ass and good tits”, Taehyung says.

“You really are”, you say, nudging his cheek, “sorry, you know that I was only being a dick right now?”

“I do. It’s fine, I know I look hot.”

You snicker, agreeing with a nod of your head. Hoseok appears by your sides with his signature cocktails. He hands each of you a glass, then sits down next to Taehyung.

“Where are your husbands?” he asks.

“Actually, we’re single today”, Jimin says.

“What are you guys playing again?” Seokjin asks with a knowing look in his eyes.

“We’re pretending not to know each other so we can hit each other up”, you explain your perfect plan to which Jimin snickers and nods his head.

“And you guys wanna judge our fishing gays vibes.”

“Hey, we weren’t judging. You guys rock the look”, you defend yourself and take a sip of the cocktail. It tastes sweet with a hint of coconut at the end, “the cocktail’s amazing. Wow.”

“Thanks, I worked on the recipe for a week. Tae and I solely consumed cocktails this week.”

“Really?”

“No, he’s being dramatic. There were a lot though”, Taehyung says and sips on his cocktail, moving his head to the music as he does.

It isn’t long and you find yourself in the kitchen with Jimin. If there is one thing you and your best friend are, it is party alcoholics. You rarely drink in your daily lives, but love getting drunk when going out. It is only natural for you and him to get yourselves another drink once the cocktail was empty.

It is Jimin’s turn to mix the drinks. Taehyung’s current boyfriend is still DJing, filling the beach mansion with bassy techno music. You move to the sound of it, scanning your eyes over the crowd.

Hoseok and Taehyung really know a lot of people. There are faces present which you have never seen before and you have been coming to these parties ever since you were sixteen and Hoseok threw them in his parent’s basement.

It is impressive how there are still new faces each year. Your eyes halt. Wait a damn minute, you know this face. And you know this face too!

“They’re here.”

“What?” Jimin’s head snaps up. “Where?”

“There. Entrance.”

“I can’t see.”

“Girl, there” you say and take Jimin’s hand to drag him closer to the entrance area.

“Oh there! Holy fuck. Oh my fucking god, look at them”, Jimin gasps, grasping your arm for support.

You agree with him. Jungkook has never looked hotter before. He is wearing black skin-tight jeans with a black belt. He paired a very small crop top to it. Silver body chains peak out from underneath it, accentuating the paths of him. Judging by how glowy his honey skin is, he oiled himself up. Holy fuck indeed. It takes everything inside you not to storm to him and instantly take him.

Jimin is having just as much of a hard time. Yoongi is also wearing black skinny jeans and combines a cropped t-shirt and a black choker with it. His belly button piercing peaks out from under the hem of the tanktop, his black tattoos are exposed as well. He seems to have oiled up his toned arms.

“Girl sorry, but I need to have this man”, Jimin says and abandons you to run to Yoongi.

Yoongi, who clearly wanted to roleplay, gets surprised as Jimin flings himself around his neck and kisses him deeply.

Jungkook launches to the side in surprise, gawking at them. Yoongi stumbles at first but soon catches his rhythm, grabbing Jimin’s ass greedily as his lips melt with his’.

Seconds later, Jimin collides with the wall and Yoongi slams his hand on said wall above his husband’s head. Another second later, you can see tongue. Lots of tongue.

Well there go your plans of pretending to be strangers. You huff out air in frustration, pouting. Jimin could have at least tried to control himself.

Jungkook looks away from the violently making out couple, scanning his eyes over the crowd in search of you.

Maybe you could still pretend. It isn’t too late yet.

He meets your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. He is looking at you like a golden retriever having spotted his owner. Seriously, if he had a tail, he would wag it vigorously right now.

He abandons Jimin and Yoongi, making his way to you through the crowd.

You let him think that you will wait for him until he is just a few steps away. His eyes are sparkling like crazy, his lips are curled into a giddy smile.

You turn your back to him and flee into the kitchen. You can’t see his reaction, but you know for a fact that confusion and offense are both on his features.

You hope that he is following you. You swerve past a few people once in the kitchen. Your goal is to get a drink. Vodka with some orange juice as mixer. It’s honestly not a good drink, but it gets the job done.

You are in the midst of pouring in the orange juice when Jungkook appears by your side.

“Hey there.”

You try to ignore him. Your heart is racing like crazy. This is so exciting.

“Uhm. Hey”, he tries again louder this time around, leaning a little closer in case you can’t hear him.

You give him nothing, despite really wanting to look at him.

“Helloooo”, he singsongs, tapping your shoulder.

“One second”, you tell him and finish pouring the juice. You close the package of juice, putting it back in the fridge. And only then, do you finally turn to look at him. You scan your eyes up and down. Fuck he is so hot. You need to devour him. Not yet. You have to stay strong.

“Hey”, he says one last time, giving you a lopsided smirk.

“Hey.”

“Why did you run away from me?”

“Do I know you?”

Jungkook seems taken aback for a second before realisation lights up his face. He smiles, lowering his eyes playfully.

“Not yet”, he leans against the counter nonchalantly, “but that can change. I’m Jungkook, but you can call me JK if you want to”, he says, offering you his hand to shake.

You eye it, but don’t take it. You sip on your vodka orange, leaning against the counter just as nonchalantly as he does.

“JK you say?”

“Or Jungkook whatever you might prefer. I can also go by yours if that’s more to your taste.”

He makes you laugh. Of course he still got it.

“Mine? Well, that’s ambitious.”

“What can I say, I’m an ambitious dreamer.”

“You definitely are”, you say, running your eyes over his torso.

The crop top is just long enough to it hides his waist in certain angles and exposes it in others. He styled his hair out his face and clearly did his eyebrows. He currently keeps his hair shorter and his sides even shorter. He looks to die for. You need to eat him up. You take a sip of your drink instead, meeting his eyes again. He knows that he is sexy. It is obvious in his eyes.

“You are single, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Why?”

“I’d hate to accidentally hit up someone taken.”

“So you’re hitting me up?”

“As of now, I am.”

You smile, “I’m single, yeah.”

“Really? Wow, I could have sworn that someone like you is already married.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone as beautiful as you. I was sure for a second that someone was already lucky enough to catch your eye.”

“Mhm not yet”, you say, following his body chain until you can study his neck instead, “my eyes are definitely caught right now, though.”

“The feeling’s mutual”, he says, taking a step closer. Just a little one.

You take a step back, feeling tingles of excitement when Jungkook’s eyes darken in the thrill of the chase. He lets out a sexy chuckle, fixing his posture with a roll of his shoulders.

“What are you drinking?” he asks.

“Vodka orange. It’s nasty.”

He laughs, “I can imagine. I’m more of a whisky guy myself.”

“You are?”

“Mhm”, his eyes flit to your lips, “I like the burn.”

Everything inside you tells you to close the distance and kiss him stupid. You need this man like air. Not yet. Let’s play for a little longer.

He seems to struggle too. His eyes keep flitting to your lips and if they aren’t yearning for a kiss, they are on your chest. You purposefully wore a really short and tight dress tonight. It’s definitely working.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“___.”

“You have a really pretty name.”

“Thanks. My parents picked it for me.”

“Your parents seem to have done a lot of things right with your creation.”

You laugh, trying so fucking hard not to call him an idiot. He is so silly and funny and you love him so much.

Jungkook laughs with you, inching closer. You don’t flee this time around, staring at his smile as if it was art. It is.

He puts his hand on the upper corner of the fridge. He is so close like this. His eyes don’t lie. They never could. He is so utterly in love with you even if you pretend to be strangers.

You can’t stop looking at him. Your eyes can’t lie. Even of you tried, they couldn’t. He is the love of your life, even if you pretend to be strangers.

You could never pull off this roleplay perfectly because it’s in your eyes.

And somehow it just makes you and him so excited tonight. To know that even if you were strangers, you were meant to be. The memory of years ago, when you were truly strangers, feels foreign to you and him, but this is what makes it so good. The connection. The memories. The safety and trust you built. The knowledge that once this party ends, you and he can go home together to your doggy son and you can fall asleep cuddling. This is what makes it so fucking good. Knowing that you already found your person.

“So do you live here or are you just visiting?” he asks.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Really?”

You nod your head. Jungkook laughs in relief, knees buckling as he melts in giddiness.

“I’m so glad. It was so hard to act as if I didn’t know you. How are you, baby? I missed you. Oh my god, you’re so sexy, I can’t stop looking at you. I missed you so much”, he babbles, cradling your cheeks.

You melt into his touch. This is it. This is what matters.

“I missed you too. Let’s never ever do a separate sleepover again.”

“Never. Ever.” He insists, shaking his head.

“At least we held out longer than Jimin and Yoongi.”

“Right”, he looks around the room in search for them, “they’re probably fucking somewhere.”

“A hundred percent they are. Jimin spent like an hour douching. I know cause he told me every detail. I even had to help him wax his ass.”

“This sound like Jimin. But oh my god”, his knees buckle again and he pouts as he talks, “you’re so pretty. I missed you so much, baby. I can’t stop looking at you”, he whines, brushing the back of his hands down your face.

“What should I say? You look so fucking good, holy damn.”

“You like it? I wanted to be really sexy”, he explains and steps back to flex, pulling a dorky face for it.

Of course it makes you laugh because he is the funniest person ever. It also makes you swoon however. His muscles look very good when he flexes even with clothes on.

“What do you think? Do I look sexy to you?” he asks, flexing his arms.

“You look so sexy. I could eat you, I’m serious.”

“Thanks, yeah”, he lets out and finally gives in completely. He giggles, swaying giddly. He drops his head on your shoulder, hugging you against him, “let’s never ever be strangers again, baby.”

“Yeah. Never. Ever.”

He squeezes you and steps back, holding your hand as he talks.

“How was your day?”

“Fun. It was nice acting like teens with Jimin. Yours?”

“Fun too, but I missed you like crazy. I wanted to keep sending you texts.”

“Me too, oh my god.”

He smiles giddily. So he wasn’t the only one going crazy without his other half. He gazes at you, heart racing.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“I’m jolly. Why?”

“Because I need to catch up. I’m too sober.”

“Oh? So we’re doing this tonight?”

“Definitely. You and I are gonna get shitfaced.”

“Well if that’s so. Shots. Tequila.”

“Like we did on our first party.”

“Exactly.”

It is Taehyung’s turn to DJ when you and Jungkook finally feel drunk enough to dance. You spent time outside with the others, having to admit your defeat which didn’t come as a surprise to them. Jimin and Yoongi joined about an hour in, looking dishevelled. Nobody dared to comment on their state in fear of Jimin dropping way too graphic details. Taehyung left an hour in to switch places with his boyfriend, while said boyfriend joined the dancing crowd first row.

“Wanna get another drink?” Jimin asks Yoongi.

“Sure, we can get another drink. Seokjin, wanna join?”

“Yes, I do actually.”

Hoseok and Namjoon are playing beer pong by the pool, which leaves you and Jungkook.

“You two wanna join?” Yoongi offers.

You and Jungkook communicate through a look.

“Actually, we wanna go dancing for a bit.”

“Fine with us. We’re in the kitchen.”

And so it happens that you and Jungkook go dancing. Jungkook leaves you for a little while to talk to Taehyung. He seems touchier than normally, which is a telltale sing that he was drunk. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, talking to him whenever he isn’t busy mixing.

You’re all alone on the dance floor, enjoying the music and the feeling of alcohol in your veins. Seriously, you aren’t someone who drinks a lot of booze, but man is it fun to be drunk on a party. Especially when you know that you can dance with Jungkook in the near future.

He taps you on the shoulder. You turn, instantly throwing your arms around him.

“Hey. Ew, sorry”, you startle, flinching away as an unknown man looks at you.

“Wow, I’m trying not to be hurt. You are the first girl who reacts with ew when she sees me.”

“Sorry. I thought that you were someone else. I just startled, that’s all. You’re not actually ew.”

“I’m not? Thank you. You’re very pretty yourself. I’m Frank and you are?”

“Oh. Oh, no sorry. I think you might have misunderstood something. I’m-”

“Hey, I’m back”, Jungkook thankfully saves the day (on purpose because he watched you from the DJ booth and instantly felt jealous). He puts his arm around your waist, giving Frank a very territorial and dark look.

“Your date?” the stranger asks.

“Husband. We’ve been married for years. We’re very happy”, Jungkook snarls.

“Sorry, my mistake then. You guys have fun”, the stranger is thankfully one of the good guys, leaving with a slightly bruised ego but no complaints.

Jungkook turns to you and nudges your cheek.

“Bad girl. Don’t be so cute.”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you put your arms around him.”

“Okay but mister then you also saw that I instantly flinched back when I saw that it wasn’t your fine ass”, you snicker, poking him.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you already have men falling over you. Stop being cute or I’ll have to hide you away in my pocket.”

“Okay, you’re just acting adorable now”, you snicker and put your arms around him, hooking them behind his head. “I can’t help it. I’m born cute. Thankfully, I’m married to someone as strong as you to keep me safe.”

He likes it, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, that’s right. My wifey”, he says and slides his hands to your hips to hold them.

You begin dancing, looking into the other’s eyes as if the universe itself was in them. And in a sense it was. When you look at Jungkook, you can see your whole universe. When Jungkook looks at you, he can see his whole universe.

“Fuck, I love you. You know?”

“I love you too. Now look at these moves.”

Seconds later you are screaming in laughter as Jungkook gives you his best performance. He comes out of it a little out of breath, looking proud.

“And whatcha think?”

“Amazing, you were amazing.”

He grins, pointing at you.

“Your turn.”

“Watch this.”

Jungkook cheers you on, jumping and laughing on the spot as you give him your best performance.

People always say that it is impossible to actually find someone you can be a hundred percent yourself with. That there will always be parts which just don’t match and you will have to live with it. But these people have never experienced what you and Jungkook have. Nobody else matches your goofy freak as well as he does.

And as you and he have the most embarrassing yet free dance off, the world seems to glow all around you. The people around don’t matter. It is just you and him.

The night continues like this for a long time. You take a short break in the middle of it, going to the kitchen for more drinks and a round of beer pong with the others.

Then Namjoon wanted to go on a drunk beach walk to which Hoseok and Seokjin agreed. You and Jungkook returned back to the dance floor. Well, at least he did because you left for the kitchen first to get more shots.

Jungkook is talking to another woman when you come back. You jump into a full sprint instantly, reaching his side within seconds.

“I got our drinks”, you blurt out, shoving it into his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Is this your friend?” the stranger asks.

“Do we look like friends to you? That’s my husband and he is my pookie wookie and I’m his egg and you are not welcome here because we’re very happy.”

“Urgh fine, message received. Bye”, she says and leaves.

“You” you whip around to him.

“I didn’t do nothing. I swear”, he panics, squeaking when you poke him in the cheek.

“Stop being a cutie pie. I can’t leave you alone.”

He relaxes and snickers, “she approached me. I was trying to tell her that I’m married when you came running.”

“Next time I’m taking you with me. We need a leash for parties.”

“Yes please”, he begs, making puppy eyes. Truly you have the most loyal hubby ever.

And so the night continues. You and he get drunker and dance. Taehyung switched places with his boyfriend again when you and Jungkook officially can’t stay apart anymore.

Well, it is you who starts it. Jungkook is very lost in the music, dancing with his eyes closed and his arms up in the air. The position makes his crop top slip up constantly, exposing his toned stomach. It looks so pretty when he stretches.

Somewhere to your right, Jimin and Yoongi are dancing as well. Well, Yoongi is barely moving while Jimin is grinding on him. Sometimes he playfully slaps his butt which makes Jimin laugh and snuggle closer for a kiss. Which in return makes Yoongi smile and kiss him hungrily. They seem very happy doing what they’re doing.

But you can only look at Jungkook and how freely he dances. His smile. This goddamn smile. It’s so beautiful. The lights hue his body into such beautiful colours. Seeing his stomach flex and relax and the body chains swing just does something to you. The song switches. Jungkook yelps and looks at you.

“I love this song! Fuck, I feel so good”, he laughs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as the music moves his body again. His smile is even brighter than before, captivating you.

You can’t do this anymore. You are so insanely attracted to him.

You grip his waist and tug him to you. Jungkook lets you, running his eyes up and down your face playfully. He hooks his arms behind your head, swaying his hips to the music because he thinks that you wanted to dance with him. His arms rest on your shoulders like this. He is still smiling. Your attraction to him is unbearable.

You tell him to lean down, which he does.

“You’d also feel good if you were inside me”, you rasp, forcing his knees to buckle and his eyes to go droopy at the same time.

“Holy fuck, baby”, he chokes out and melts closer.

“Mhm I mean it.”

You squeeze his dainty waist, tilting your head so your noses touch.

“Don’t say that. Please. Not here”, he begs.

“I can’t help it. You’re so fucking cute. And sexy”, you say, running your hands along his oiled up sides.

Jungkook tenses and shudders, knees buckling and face dropping to the side of your head. His lips brush your ear, letting you hear the very soft moan your touch elicits.

So you do it again. His waist is dainty enough that you can dance your fingers along his sides and trace his ab-lines with your thumbs at the same time. His tummy is sensitive, which means that he gets very shivery from it.

He even has to reach down and stop your hands from further wandering.

“Please, it’s unfair of you.”

You step closer, letting your lips brush his ear.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

Jungkook’s head shoots up, his eyes are widened. The music changes to a louder song, making his words silent to you but you know for a fact that he currently exclaims “are you serious?”

You nod your head, squeezing his hands. You mouth back a “are you down?” which you know for a fact is useless because Jungkook sucks at reading lips.

He leans closer, “whatever you just said, I agree with you”, he says against your ear, following it with a needy little sound.

“Then come on.” You say and pull him away from the dance floor. Jungkook follows like a love drunk puppy, only having eyes for you.

You and he manage as far as the kitchen and then Jungkook can’t take it anymore. He grips your face to pull you into a kiss.

“Nuh-uh what are you doing?” you stop him with a finger on his lips. He is but your finger’s width away, looking at you with desperate neediness in his eyes.

“Don’t do this to me”, he croaks, sliding his hands to the back of your neck. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I didn’t give you permission, did I?”

“Baby, please. Can I kiss you?” he is pleading. It’s a panicky reaction, his sad puppy eyes are indicator enough.

“I’m not sure”, you say and slide your finger away.

Jungkook chases you instantly, moaning softly. You move away, make him chase you, deny him the kiss.

Jungkook grips your hip and cups your cheek. The inner corners of his brows lift in a beg.

“Let me kiss you. Please.”

You smile. It’s driving him insane that you are. Your fingers on his chest are doing the rest. His heart is pounding, his skin is so overly sensitive that he swears he can feel your touch through his shirt. He is starved. It’s scrambling his brain not to taste your kiss.

“Please just one kiss.”

You shake your head, moving closer just to deny him again.

“Too many people.”

“Then let's go somewhere else”, he says and takes your hand to pull you away from the crowd. He seems to go straight for the stairs, which are off limits to the guests.

“Wait. What are you doing? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere nobody can disturb us”, he says and leads you upstairs. No guests are allowed upstairs, but you both know that you are an exception.

“But the party’s downstairs. We’re not supposed to be here.”

“I don't care. I need to kiss you.” He twirls on the highest step, walking with his back facing the path. His hands are on your hips, leading you with him. He is giggling, face scrunched in the prettiest smile. “We’re little criminals right now”, he gushes and twirls you.

“Oh god, this is very fast”, you laugh, letting him twirl you as you and he sneak down the forbidden corridor.

There is a wall close to you. Something inside him snaps. Your laugh is the reason for it. Jungkook lifts you so he can press you against the wall. He drops you in front of it, taking your wrists to pin them above your head. He is using one hand for it, using the other to touch your waist.

Like this you are caged in and completely at his mercy, moaning softly because you expected anything but this. You look at him with wobbly knees, finding it hard to breathe.

“But you’re my criminal. Gotcha”, he purrs, following it with a sweet giggle. He is truly the most adorable yet sexy person to ever exist.

“Kook, fuck…”

“Do you wanna find out what happens to criminals when I catch them?” he coos, tugging your wrists further up the wall. He tightens his grip, lowering his head at the same time. All you can see is him. His big arms, his oiled up chest, the silver chains, his playful gaze and styled hair. All you can see is him and the lips you ache to kiss.

“Yeah”, you breathe.

“Too bad I’m not gonna show you. Yet”, he says and lowers your wrists. He still keeps a hold on them, using his grip to tug you with him.

“Wow, I see what you did there”, you grumble, making him giggle and skip along the way.

You follow happily, walking a little wobbly because he just completely ruined you with his show of strength. It’s what you get when you tease him and he pins you against a wall. It’s so hot when he does that.

“I just had to”, he says and opens Taehyung’s room, “in here. Now”, he growls the last word playfully, snickering instantly as he slaps your butt.

Jungkook is a very giggly drunk. Which is the most endearing thing ever because he is so cute when he giggles and snickers his way through life.

You enter the room happily. Jungkook closes the door and locks it. He flips the lights on, looking at you instantly.

Taehyung’s bedroom is reached by three steps and separated into two spacious areas. A living area closer to the door and the sleeping area down the stairs. You are below the steps, Jungkook is still on top of them, looking down at you with starving eyes.

“Now we’re alone”, he says, lowering his eyes dangerously.

Holy fuck, you need him to act soon or else you will pass away.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll be gentle”, he rasps and follows it up with a giggle.

“Fucking hell you drive me insane. Come down here and let me kiss you”, you get out, reaching for him needily. You grab his waist and tug.

Jungkook stumbles down the two steps and falls into the kiss with a needy moan. He cradles your face and kisses you as if he had never kissed you before. Deeply. Passionately. For a long time. Wrongs become rights again, pains become comforts and time passes just a little slower. He is kissing you and it feels so good.

Like this, you pull him closer and closer to the bed until your knees hit the edge of it and you fall. Jungkook doesn’t let you fall harshly, cushioning your head with his hand.

“You’re okay?” he checks on you.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Okay.”

The kiss deepens. Your hands are on his waist again, feeling it up. You are obsessed with it. Actually obsessed. Jungkook is halfway on top your lap, sitting on one of your legs so his knee was right against your pussy.

This is your personal heaven. The pleasure is instant. You moan and grind on him within the first touch. It’s almost an instinct to use his muscular thigh to get off. You’ve done it a million times before and tonight you need it to survive. There is so much painful pressure between your legs, your clit might actually burst and your pussy feels so empty. You need to find relief. Please any kind of relief. You don’t even mind that the position is slightly uncomfortable, that you have to bend and stretch your back so you could reach him. All you take in is the instant relief his thigh gives you.

“What are you doing?” he breaks the kiss breathlessly.

“Kiss me, fucking kiss me”, you rasps and pull him back. You keep one hand on the nape of his neck while the other digs deep into his waist possessively.

“Oh my god”, he is mewling between kisses, “you…humping…my thigh. Oh my…god.”

He digs his fingers into the softness of your hip, pulling you against his hard thigh. He moves closer for it.

Your legs shake, you try to find your sanity but he is keeping your body pinned with just his addictive presence.

“Feels good? Baby…you…like?” he asks and grips the nape of your neck. His thumb still reaches your face, caressing your cheek most tenderly. It is a reminder how much he treasures you. That his heart beats only for you.

“Like it so much.”

He lifts his leg higher, keeping the intense pressure going. You are so needy that he might actually make you cum like this. In your panties, after mere seconds. The revelation makes you grind down even harder.

Jungkook was so occupied with mewling and being in disbelief about his luck that he didn’t even realise that the rough movements of his leg were too much for you until you suddenly moan his name and sink into yourself in the distinct way you always do when he is throwing you over the edge.

The kiss breaks because you need to fight for air as your body shakes.

“Holy fuck, are you having an orgasm right now?” he gasps, but you can only whimper and shake on his leg. It is very faint, but he can feel the orgasmic throbbing of your pussy against his thigh.

He grips your waist with both hands and growls.

“You are. Fuck, you are. Holy fuck, this is so hot. You’re actually cumming too soon. Holy fuck”, he babbles and helps you ride it out until you begin writhing in overstimulation.

Clarity comes back to you. The jeans against your pussy hurts. The pressure is uncomfortable. You just lost control. He manhandled you so good that he made you cum.

The realisation sends burning heat to your cheeks, you try to writhe away instantly.

“Hurts, ahm, please.”

“Holy fuck, I’m actually gonna fucking ruin you. You actually came too soon. Oh my fucking god, that only happens to me normally”, he is still babbling, now pushing you further onto bed until you can’t help but shimmy to where he wants you. Nestled into Taehyung’s pillows.

He is on top of you instantly, caging you in between the thing which seconds ago made you lose control. His thighs. He takes your wrists and pins them above your head. His tangling chains swing with each movement.

“How does it feel, mhm? How does it feel knowing that I’ve got so much power over you that I can make you cum too soon, mhm?” he taunts, breathing heavily. You didn’t think that this would affect him as much as it does, but you aren’t complaining. His competitiveness is so adorable.

“I could still make you cum faster.”

“No, you couldn’t. That was barely even a minute”, he is squeaking and giggling.

“Liar. Unless we’re talking about you, then it’s correct.”

“Shut up, oh my god”, he whines, “you’re so fucking mean. It’s not my fault, okay? I spoke to the doctor and he said I have sensitive peepee syndrome okay?”

He makes you belt a laugh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so stupid. What the fuck, just kiss me again, you idiot.”

Jungkook goes into the kiss, smiling and grinning, moaning needily as you run your hands over his body. His heart might jump out of his chest if this keeps going. He feels so alive. So goddamn alive.

You feel the same. Including such burning need for him that it gets difficult to function. It isn’t long that you break the kiss again

“Koo take it off”, you writhe, “take it off please, hurts. It hurts.”

“Yeah that’s awful isn’t it? Cumming in your panties. I bet your clit’s so fucking big and swollen right now. Just begging to be sucked and licked.”

Your clit throbs. Your panties feel even tighter.

“You’re awful”, you croak, “how do you go from being an idiot who says shit like sensitive peepee syndrome to someone who says the hottest stuff?”

“Why? Does it make you needy?” he coos and pecks your lips.

“Please, you proved your point. I’m sorry I teased you.”

He smirks, “yeah, you shouldn’t have”, he purrs and takes your face between two of his fingers, “say it again.”

“What?”

“Sorry. Say it.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Teasing you so much.”

“Mhm”, he hums, letting go of your face and swiping his thumb over your lips, “I shouldn’t be so obsessed with hearing you say sorry, but I am.”

“I need to have you, please Koo be inside me.”

“I will. I fucking will, just let me get out of this.” He climbs off bed to step out of his pants and briefs. No shoes because Taeseok have a no shoes policy at their place.

He takes off his crop top, finally exposing what he hid beneath. The oil makes his tattoos stick out so well. He also exchanged his barbell nipple piercings for silver nipple shields in heart shapes. White gemstones are glued on the hearts.

His cock is already hard, which means that he is really horny right now. Normally, he takes a little longer to get there when he is drunk, but tonight he seems ready to burst.

He is so sexy.

“You literally drive me insane”, you say and sit up, “come closer.”

He obeys, moaning and giggling as you hold his waist to pull him in for kisses on his tummy.

“Tickles”, he sighs and rolls his head back, “ah, sensitive…”

You purr and wrap your lips around the tip of his dick.

Jungkook’s knees buckle, he grips the back of your head and moans. His pretty cock throbs on your tongue, giving you a taste of his excitement. It’s a little bitter tonight because of the alcohol. You don’t really mind because he is so yummy to you.

You give his cock a very harsh suck then slip off to kiss path back to his tummy. You get on your knees on bed, kissing every inch of his torso until you reach his nipples. You have your hand around his cock, jerking it sensually.

“Absolutely insane what you are doing to me”, you lull and suck his pierced nipples one by one.

Jungkook mewls, arching his back. His cock throbs in your hand.

“I feel dizzy”, he confesses, “please can I lie down?”

“Sorry, I’m already done.” You straighten up, holding his waist as you stare deep unto his foggy eyes.

He pouts, cheeks flushed, “why’d you touch me like this?”

“Because I can.”

“Oh god, you’re so mean”, he whines.

You chuckle, “mhm maybe. Keep the chains on, I beg.”

“Okay, yes.”

“Good boy. Now, my turn.”

You get off bed, taking off your dress and underwear. You keep the jewellery on.

“Oh my god, you are beautiful”, he gasps.

So here you and he are. Bared, naked and vulnerable in the bedroom of another. It was kind of useless to get completely naked, you could have done what needed to be done with your panties pushed aside, but you are too drunk on tonight to think rationally. It’s just you and him. And you and he want to connect how nature intended it. How your souls feel when you are together. Naked, raw and fucking exposed.

“Koo.”

He answers you with your nickname and closes the distance. Your naked bodies connect, seconds later you are back on bed and he is on top of you.

The kissing continues, more intense than it was all night. Because you and he are finally naked, skin against skin. Each touch feels a million times more intense. Each inch feels so much more interesting to explore. You and he can’t stop touching each other, grinding on the other as if it was your destiny.

He is also a giggly drunk, however, meaning that he breaks the kiss way too soon for your taste. He grins at you.

“Now I finally got my kiss.”

“Wow, okay.”

“Yeah”, his smile grows into blinding magnitude, “didn’t even realise that this was my goal all along, did you?”

“No”, you play along and roll your eyes fondly. You love his antics.

“It was”, he giggles and smiles, kissing you as he does, “I told you that I’ll show you what it gets you when you tease me.”

“God Koo”, you let out and reach for him, “god.”

“I’m not done with you though. Hear me? We’re not done yet”, he purrs and adds in a sweet voice, “okay?”

“Yeah please”, you beg, dragging him back into a sloppy kiss.

Jungkook purrs, melting closer. He can’t escape it anymore. This magnetic pull between you and him. He needs to chase it or he will go insane.

“I love this. Oh god, yes”, he babbles, kissing a path to your neck and further down to your breasts. He is so noisy, licking and sucking your chest hungrily. Jungkook mewls as he kisses down your tummy, drooling in anticipation of your pussy. You know exactly what the end goal of this journey will be and it would be fucking amazing to have him eat you out. It really would be. But you are impatient and need his cock inside.

“Koo wait”, you stop him with a gentle tug on his hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know you wanna be a good boy and make me wet, but I’m already dripping. Just get up here and be inside me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, fucking hell, really.”

“Oh god, I can’t wait. I want you so bad.”

He climbs between your legs, resting on his elbows and falling into a messy kiss. He smoothes over the top of your head as his tongue dances with yours.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your hips lift in search for him. You can’t be without him any longer, aching.

Jungkook seems to feel the same, feeding you his needy moan just as he sinks his aching cock into you.

You and he shudder, sobbing drunkenly as you hug and grip the other. Reconnecting is everything which matters. This is it. The moment tonight was for.

“I’m all in”, Jungkook is panting his words, voice shaky in both emotion and pleasure, “tell me what you like. Talk me through it.”

“Deep and rough, please Koo.”

“Like this?” he starts off gentle, gazing at your face drunkenly. He pets your head, wanting to soothe you.

“Harder.”

“Like this?”

He is still so gentle with you. Which is cute and it’s so sweet that he tries to be careful, but you can’t do careful tonight. Not when you literally need him to live inside your veins from now on.

You cradle his cheeks, squishing them together until his lips stick out in a pout.

“Listen, pookie. I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

“But I don’t hate you, I love you.”

“Then fuck me like you love me and want me screaming your name.”

“Okay”, he whimpers.

“Good. Do it.”

He straightens up and lifts your legs to put them against his arms. He folds you in half, with your knees sitting against his arms and your legs in the air. Like this, you are completely exposed to him, able to take his perfect cock.

He picks up a sloppy rhythm, moaning loudly when this makes you yelp up on pleasure.

“Is this it? Do I fuck you how you need it?”

“You’re so good. Ah! Koo! Kookoo aha!”

“I feel fucking alive. Holy shit, just wanna fuck you right all day all week. Shit, I’m going insane.”

Another reason why Jungkook is the one for you and why you think that matching each other’s freak is an actual thing, is how vocal he gets during sex. So much of the pleasure he gives you is from the way he just constantly talks to you. He can be so filthy, so dirty and yet he can also be so loving and gentle. The underlying message however is always how he is devoted to you with his entire being.

“Feels…so….good”, you moan, legs twitching and shaking on his arms. Nothing beats the feeling of him. Especially when he finally shows you what those hips can do. He is honestly so good in using them.

“Yeah, so good. You make me feel invincible, holy fuck.”

He is strong in how he fucks into you, making each thrust count. Because they should. He gets to be with you each time he is inside, this should count something. This should create something wonderful. And in your case, it is pleasure so good nothing could ever recreate it.

“You, you just keep shaking like this. Your pussy’s heaven, baby. Can barely breathe. You get me so good, baby.”

“Closer please.”

He listens to your begs. His body chains, once tangling without a purpose, begin slapping against your clit.

“Jungkook”, you wail, arching your back.

“Too much?”

“No! Keep going please. Your chains! Ah!”

“My chains?” He looks down and moans, hips buckling. “No way, this is so sexy. Holy fuck, I can’t. Baby, ___ baby.”

His hips pick up speed, his drunk moans join yours. And if he isn’t moaning, he is talking. He is such a sexy drunk fuck. Maybe this is why you love getting shitfaced with him. Because you know how much of a yapper Jungkook becomes when he is drunk. And horny yapper Jungkook means you get his unfiltered thoughts constantly.

“Love fucking you so deep, babygirl.”

“Yeah, you’re moaning so sweet. Makes me fucking wild.”

“I’m made to fuck you, that’s what I was made for.”

“Can’t believe this is happening. I’m so lucky.”

“I’m yours, baby, I’m yours.”

It is constant and it is so honest. They’re your biggest turn on. Mixed with his cock loving your sensitive insides and his body chains slapping your clit and you are a goner.

“Koo, I’m cumming.”

“Don't hold back. cum for me, baby.” He encourages you and takes your clit between his fingers to rub her. His chains still slap against you, adding electric intensity to your high. “Does this help?”

You wail, clawing at the sheets and writhing helplessly. This is your answer. Or course it fucking helps.

“Yes babygirl, cum for me. Shit, my cock’s at home with you. That’s it, let me feel you lose it. Give me everything.”

“Please slow please we’re not at home.”

He knows what you are insinuating, pinching your clit because he is awful.

“Please Koo, I need to squirt. Don’t make me do this.”

“Just say the words and I’ll slow down.”

“Slow, please slow.”

“Good girl, using your words so well”, he praises and drops to his elbows. Your legs are around his thighs, shaking as he fucks into you messily. His body chains tickle your chest like this.

He shudders, eyes clouding over in ecstasy. It feels so good the way you grip him for support.

“Can you still go?” he asks.

“Yeah”, you mewl, fingers grasping the back of his body chains.

“I’m gonna cum like this. Can I cum inside?”

“Yes, please do. Koo oh god, Koo”, you beg, twisting the chains for support.

“I love cumming inside”, he whimpers, kissing you seconds later. Quite frankly, he licks into your mouth more than he kisses you, giving you the squeakiest and neediest moans ever.

You bury your hand deep in his hair, clenching down on him to make it feel good for him.

“___”, Jungkook mewls.

“Is this good for you? Am I making it nice?”

“Nice, so nice. I really have to cum.”

“Then do it. Fill me, baby.”

“Play with my nipples, please.”

You fulfill his wish, instantly sending him to nirvana. He squeaks your name, trying to kiss you as his orgasm shakes his body. You kiss him back, trembling from getting all of him. This is everything.

“I love you”, he manages to get out because at the end of the day, this is what he does. He fucks you as hard as he does, gets naked with you, dresses up and goes out because he loves you.

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, it feels so good. You feel so good. I can’t stop cumming, oh god”, he sobs and shakes, holding you close for support. Your fingers on his nipples really ruin him.

“I’m here, baby. Just let it all out, I can take it.”

Jungkook mewls, giving you seven more sloppy thrusts before he finally drops. Just like he always does after a very intense high, he seeks your closeness. He whimpers and sobs quietly, trying to kiss your entire face at the same time. All while his cock throbs inside you slowly.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you too. I love you too”, you answer his emotional babbling each and every time, You just really love this man so very deeply.

Every side of him. The rough, dominant side when he is really horny. And the sappy, cuddly side when he comes down. You just love him so much.

“I can’t believe you just let me hit, I can’t believe it.”

You snicker, “why shouldn’t I let you hit, you stupid egg? You’re my hubby.”

“I just. I can’t believe it. I’m so lucky. And I fucking missed you so bad”, he gushes and kisses you.

Oh so deeply and with so much emotion. Jungkook breaks the kiss with a suck on your lower lip. He smiles at you, caressing your heated cheeks.

“This was amazing. I can’t believe it. I feel amazing and wow. Just wow”, he babbles, making you giggle because he is so cute.

“Yeah, right.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really fucking good.”

“Yeah right. Phew, this was amazing”, he says and guides his kisses to your jawline, “you were amazing. I’m so happy. I can’t stop giggling. Wow, I feel so good. I’ve seriously got the best wifey ever.”

He makes you melt. He knows exactly how to treat you after being so rough with you. His aftercare is the reason why you never feel disgusting or used even after the hardest of fucks. He fucks you that hard because he loves you. The reminder will always heal you.

“You’re so sweet.”

“Was it okay what I did?”

“It was more than okay. It was perfect. I loved every moment of it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. You were amazing.”

“Oh god, I love you.

“I love you too, Koo.”

Your eyes meet. The weight of your situation finally sinks in as you and he lie here in silence, while downstairs the music is hammering against the ceiling.

“So uhm, how are we gonna bring the news to Tae that we fucked in his room?” you ask.

“Maybe we don’t have to. Maybe we can just clean up really well and then leave again without saying anything.”

“Yeah right, as if this will work.”

“We could just blame Yoongi and Jimin.”

You squint your eyes at him for a second. He wiggles his brows.

“No. No, do not tempt me with your evil ideas. We can’t betray them like this.”

“Ugh fine, I’ll tell him.”

Silence. You and he exchange another look, thinking the same thing.

“Only if he notices.”

“Definitely only if he notices.”

“Yep, it’s a good plan.”

“A totally good plan.”

216 notes · View notes

nativegirltapes · 3 days ago

Text

how the !readers got asked to be drew/rafe’s valentine ♡

notes: scrounging this up bc i’m lacking valentine’s day content :( hopefully you guys like it! also introducing a new pairing kinda…. it’s basically just the pairing from my older toxic!rafe works i posted when i first started this account but i want to bring them back! not proofread ..

angel!reader + drew — drew can’t just ask you to be his valentine, there’s always gifts involved. “i got you something.” drew said the minute you hopped in his car. it was pink and white box with red ribbon, you looked at him with a huge smile on your face, just wondering what it could be. it was the new victoria secret set and underwear you’d really been wanting with a hand written love letter and the question ‘can i be your valentine this year?’ written at the end, of course with ‘XOXO your drew’.

tp!mom!reader + drew — drew isn’t only asking you, but he’s asking baby too. it’s a few days before valentine’s day; you and baby had plans at your friends house and when you guys come home drew is stood there with all you and baby’s favorite snacks and a big paper sign with ‘be my valentine?’ written across it. it’s simple, but you love it, you’ve never been asked to be anyone’s valentine before so you feel special and sooo loved. he even got baby a little teddy bear. baby isn’t really exactly sure what’s going on but she’s got the biggest grin on her face.

sweetheart!reader + drew — they’re a little more tame …. it’s not extravagant or anything, but you feel so loved and seen. drew doesn’t go all out, but it’s still cute. it’s exactly a week before Valentine’s Day and you were heading into your crafting room, where you found a mess you didn’t remember making. but the closer you got you seen paper cutouts of letters that read ‘be my valentine?’ your jaw literally drops, “drew!” you yell, but he’s already standing in the doorway. you jump in his arms “yes!”

wag!reader + basketballplayer!drew — drew’s got the average fuck boy proposal; asking you with a big sign and rose petals on his bed. you love it though, you two have come a long way. in previous valentines he wouldn’t even talk to you during the week of valentines, afraid that maybe you’d expect something romantic from him. but this year he’s beyond excited to ask you, he was even bragging to his teammates about you.

bisexual!reader + rafe — rafe doesn’t really ask you to be his valentine. it’s moreso just an agreement to hang out on the day of valentines. “you got plans on the 14th?” rafe asked, hoping you’d say no, and you did. “no, you?” you shut your phone off, you were both quietly doing your own thing while scrolling on your phones, weirdly tangled in with each others bodies; basically cuddling but neither of you ever called it that “no. you tryna come over then?” rafe asked. “yeah.”

bubbly!kook!reader + toxic!rafe — valentine’s day is always a rough time of year for you and rafe, simply because he’s always all over the place and you never know where your relationship stands. some years he’s absolutely head over heels for you, and then there’s some years where you haven’t even talked in weeks. but he shows up to your house with flowers and a bag of your favorite chips. “be my valentine?” he asks, you know you shouldn’t let him back into your life but you physically can’t stop yourself. you run into his arms and hug him, “yes rafey!”

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meadowfics · 1 day ago

Note

I apologize if you're not taking requests at this time. I just have to get it down before I forget lol.

What if Kang Dae-Ho and reader meet during the games and somehow survive and get married and have a kid who one day comes home from school wanting to play these children games they learned from their classmates/teachers (the games they played) and maybe it brings up the bad memories. Like kinda angsty but with a comforting ending something.

childhood dreams, adult nightmares

kang dae-ho x wife!mother!reader

seo-ah does not understand the effect of a childhood game on you

I am adding this to my, "kang family" series since this is such a good concept! thank you for requesting <3

warning: PTSD mentions, yes dae-ho and y/n were in the games in this AU before seo-ah and byeol came along :(

there is a link to see seo-ah's little cute sneakers to make your day <3

four years ago, you never thought you would live to see this life.

the quiet suburban home in the countryside in korea.

the warm smell of baby lotion and freshly brewed tea lingering in the air. the sound of your three-year-old daughter, seo-ah, giggling as she kicks off her tiny pink strawberry sneakers by the door.

the little girl's excitement was bubbling over after a long day at daycare.

you never thought you would survive at all to see this life,

or any life outside of comfort,

or any life outside of poverty,

yet here you are.

your hands tighten slightly on the baby carrier strapped to your chest, where byeol is sleeping peacefully, her tiny face nestled against your sternum, breaths warm and steady.

byeol's weight is small but grounding, a reminder that she is real. that this life is real, and you did survive the worst.

you and dae-ho had spent the day running errands, taking turns carrying byeol, rocking her, feeding her, going through the motions of parenthood with the quiet ease of two people who had built a home out of the wreckage of their past.

when you talked to dae-ho's oldest sister, and your sister-in-law, hana, a few months back, she suggested that seo-ah is at an age where she needs more social interaction with kids her own age.

so, dae-ho and you put seo-ah in morning daycare so she can play, start her learning, and make some new mini friends.

today had been a good day.

until seo-ah says something that freezes you in place.

"eomma, we played a new game today at recess!"

seo-ah announces, pulling her backpack off and tossing it onto the floor. the girl's cheeks are flushed with excitement as she bounces on her toes.

you smile, adjusting the strap of the baby carrier, watching as she pulls out a small piece of construction paper with crayon scribbles all over it.

"oh yeah? what game, baby?"

she grins, bright and carefree, completely unaware of the way your world is about to tilt on its axis.

"I think it was called... hm? wait! red light, green light! it was red light, green light!"

your breath catches in your throat.

your hands go still.

your entire body stiffens, as if your muscles are locking up, as if your nervous system is throwing every alarm at once, a tidal wave of ice-cold fear crashing down on you.

red light. green light.

breathe.

you can't.

your ears ring.

your vision blurs at the edges.

your heartbeat thunders in your chest, loud and panicked, drowning out the warmth of the home around you.

"eomma?"

seo-ah tilts her head, blinking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

she doesn't know.

seo-ah doesn't know.

act normal, y/n.

you force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"o-oh, yeah? who taught you that game?"

your voice feels distant, wrong, like it doesn’t belong to you.

"seonsaengnim said it’s really fun! we played it outside, and i won once!"

she beams, clearly proud of herself.

your stomach churns. nausea twists inside you like a knot pulled too tight.

images flash behind your eyes, unwelcome and cruel.

you remember when you won once, too.

except, you would have died if you didn't.

the sun beating down on your skin. the crack of gunfire. bodies collapsing around you, limp and lifeless. the screams. the silence.

stop. stop. stop.

"eomma?"

you snap back to the present, your nails digging into your palms as you force yourself to focus on your daughter.

on her soft voice, her curious eyes she got from you, the way she’s still waiting for your response.

before you can say anything, dae-ho’s voice calls out from down the hall.

"seo-ah, baby, use your inside voice! your sister's sleeping."

your head turns instinctively.

dae-ho is in byeol’s nursery, gently rocking her bassinet as he hums under his breath, soothing her. t

he sight of him...tall, strong, always steady...should bring you comfort.

right now, you don’t want him to see you like this.

you don’t want to trigger him, too.

"w-why don’t you go wash your hands before dinner, hm?"

you tell seo-ah, ruffling her hair.

she pouts but obeys, skipping off toward the bathroom, humming a song to herself.

as soon as she’s gone, you let out a shaky breath and press a hand to your chest, as if that will somehow slow the frantic beating of your heart.

you close your eyes. try to shake it off. try to remind yourself that this is not then.

this is not the games.

however, your body doesn’t understand the difference.

its been a while since you remembered those games. your brain tries to block that memory all of the time.

today, the memories were clear as day.

your legs feel weak as you make your way to the bedroom, setting the empty baby carrier down carefully before you sit on the edge of the bed.

your hands are still trembling, your lungs still tight.

you need to pull yourself together. you can’t let dae-ho see you like this.

you can’t—

“baby?”

your husband's voice is soft, but it startles you anyway.

you snap your head up, meeting his gaze.

dae-ho is standing in the doorway, brows furrowed slightly, his expression unreadable.

your stomach twists.

he noticed.

of course he did.

you try to muster a small smile.

“hey.”

he studies you for a long moment before stepping forward.

“what’s wrong?”

don’t tell him.

you don’t want to see that look in his eyes.

the same look he had the night you both finally got out, the night you collapsed in his arms, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, shaking so violently he had to hold you together.

the night before that when the rebellion happened. when you had to comfort a shaking dae-ho since the gunshots reminded him of his time in the marines.

he had worser PTSD symptoms than you did, if you had to compare.

however, dae-ho is patient.

he crouches in front of you, resting a warm hand on your knee.

"talk to me, baby."

you let out a slow breath, your throat tight.

“seo-ah told me that she--um--played… red light, green light today at daycare.”

he stills.

"it reminded me of.."

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

dae-ho's fingers flex against your knee, his jaw tightens, his own breathing uneven. the ex-marine's eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach drop.

"oh."

you nod.

"yeah."

a heavy silence falls between you, thick with memories neither of you want to relive.

“i didn’t want to tell you,”

you admit quietly.

“i didn’t want to make you—”

“it’s okay,”

he cuts in gently.

“you can tell me anything.”

you can see it.

the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl into fists before he slowly unclenches them.

he’s not okay either. but he’s trying.

just like you.

he takes a deep breath, then reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers through yours.

“she’s safe,”

he says, and you can’t tell if he’s reminding you or himself.

“she’s here. alive. she’s okay.”

you nod, squeezing his hands.

"i know. i just—" you swallow hard.

"it still gets to me."

"i know, sweetheart."

his voice is so soft it almost breaks you.

he moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his arms. the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, is the only thing keeping you from spiraling again.

"breathe with me,"

he murmurs against your hair.

so you do.

inhale.

his chest rises with yours.

exhale.

dae-ho's arms tighten around you.

the two of you sit like that for a long time, breathing together, grounding each other.

you don’t know how much time passes before you finally whisper,

“do you think it’ll ever go away?”

he doesn’t answer right away. then, he sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"maybe not completely but we have each other, right?"

you close your eyes, nodding.

"yeah."

"and seo-ah. and byeol."

his voice is steadier now.

"we survived, baby. we made it. no one is taking anything from us ever again."

dae-ho's words settle into your bones, solid and warm, and you believe him.

you press your face against his chest, soaking in the quiet comfort of him.

the past will always be there, unfortunately, waiting for moments like this to creep in.

you are here alive with dae-ho. together.

alive.

kang family masterlist here

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 hours ago

Text

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy.

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now.

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it.

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out.

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work.

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices.

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction.

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head.

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad...

“You work?” You ask.

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?”

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money.

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.”

“Right,” you try not to seethe.

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky.

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell?

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch.

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again.

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes.

“I’m getting ready--”

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet.

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.”

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says.

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round.

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner.

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides.

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls.

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists.

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil.

“Boring,” she chirps.

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies.

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think.

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read.

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume.

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered.

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own.

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence.

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying.

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna.

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up.

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth.

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.;

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first.

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so.

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell.

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.”

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out.

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.”

“But I need a keyboard.”

You ignore them and keep going.

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!”

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner.

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks.

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time.

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out.

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible?

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens.

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again?

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her.

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.”

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?”

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.

“Is it mom?” You whisper.

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.”

You make a face. What?

“Who...”

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion.

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.”

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening.

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks.

You glance at him again. You’re lost.

“Do I know you?” You grimace.

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--”

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--”

“Outside. Privately,” he says.

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book.

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.”

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be...

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head.

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers.

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #captain's orders #captain america #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers

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clovermoters · 10 hours ago

Text

we love, love day! ln4 x reader

summary - with a wedding on the way, lando makes sure this years valentine’s day is one you and him will remember forever.

warnings - fluff, small amount of smut towards the end (oral fem receiving) extremely established relationship, lando is a loverboy, extreme valentines adorableness. wc: 2.8k !!

a/n - happy love day loves! i hope u all enjoy this little fic i wrote for yous <3 id like to give a big big thank you to @landopoet for being my lovely proof reader/editor/person i bounce my ideas off of! anyways with love..enjoy 💗

February 4th 2025

the calm hum of the McLaren Technology Centre was quiet in the background of your boss going over the preseason marketing plans for the team.

your face rested on your palm as you fought the urge to fall asleep in your chair. you’ve been in meetings all day and all you want to do is go home and cuddle with your fiancé, who’s been texting you updates throughout his day off at home. receiving pictures of him on the couch watching movies and playing games with Max Fewtrell. his updates however, went radio silent during your previous meeting.

“and with that i’ll leave you to your assignments for the week, please email me if you have any questions or concerns, see you Sunday for our livery launch” your boss announces.

you swiftly pack up your supplies into the purse Lando had bought you for christmas mere months ago.

making your way towards the spot lando agreed to pick you up, your eye catches a mix of red and pink balloons tied together, next to them stood your loving fiancé holding a pink drink with a delicious looking cake pop sticking out of it, looking at you with a giddy smile.

“well hello to you too...” you eye your boyfriends cheeky look on his face as he hands you your drink. you take the cake pop out, revealing the simple sharpie writing on the plastic lid.

will you be my valentine? <3

you laugh softly looking up to see your boyfriends eyes. the hopeful look on his face makes your heart melt.

“lan, baby, we’re getting married in 4 months” you say with a giggle. the boy scoffs at you “oh i'm well aware love, but i still need to ASK you to be my valentine. it's how the holiday works, sweetheart!”

you smile taking a sip of the drink before reaching out to link your hand with Landos, giving him a soft peck on his lips. “of course i’ll be your valentine, my love”

Landos eyes sparkle, smiling from ear to ear as he gives a gentle fist pump to the air, whispering a playful “yes! let’s gooo!” under his breath before pulling you into a tender kiss. you giggle into his lips as he pulls you closer by the hips, your lips moving together in sync before you gently pull away, reminded that you left your planner on your desk.

“i'll just be a second.. i need to grab something from my desk quickly” you mumble into his lips

he nods “okay, i’ll wait here.” you turn on your heels, speedily navigating through the quiet office. it was getting late on a friday evening and you weren’t surprised to see others having already gone home to their families.

on your way out, you cross paths with your co-worker, she smiles at the drink in your hand.

“it’s sweet how he feels the need to ask his fiancé to be his valentine” she comments, your cheeks go pink as you gaze down at the cup in your hand. you try to memorize the scribbled sentence on the plastic, wondering what you did to deserve the man who’s currently waiting for you downstairs. “he just loves love,” you reply with a shy smile.

wishing her a lovely evening, you quickly make your return to find Lando holding your balloons while typing away at his phone. his face lights up at you, taking your hand in his.

you walk to his mclaren 765LT, your personal favourite car of his. he opens the door for you before rounding the car to get in himself.

“alright pretty girl, time to get my valentine home,” he adds playfully, starting the car. he leans over the console to place a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before merging onto the country roads, taking you two home.

February 7th 2025

the soft stream of sunlight filtering through the curtains woke you up. you rolled over in your sheets expecting to find your sleeping fiancé next to you, only to be met with cold, pulled back sheets.

you frown, lando hadn’t mentioned going on a run this morning and your shared calendar hadn’t shown a meeting being scheduled. on a regular day, it’s rare for him to wake up first.

a pout forms on your face as the smell of maple syrup fills your senses. you sleepily make your way through the apartment. slippers shuffling across the hardwood floor, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you turn the corner into the kitchen.

there at the stove stood a shirtless Lando, his hair askew from sleep, grey sweatpants sat on his hips, he’s smiling back at you, spatula in hand.

your breath halts in your throat when you spot the table he had set. roses and other flowers placed strategically around the table for two, surrounded in a sea of orange and red flowers. the table already set with fruit and a variety of your favourite pastries. your heart squeezed at the thought of him taking the time to set this up.

“what is all this for?” you ask, hands fluttering softly against his back before gently wrapping your arms around his bare chest. Lando smiles, rocking you both side to side.

“can’t a guy treat his girl one week out from love day?” he asks, mocking offense. you giggle, turning to give a kiss to his back before lando spins around, leaning in to give you a sweet kiss on your lips.

“i’m just surprised you managed to do this all on your own,” you tease.

he chuckles “i did actually have to call my mum.” he admits “but it still tastes the same!”

February 11th 2025

Lando left for testing yesterday and you’ve been home alone. five years into your relationship you and Lando no longer felt the need to go to testing together. you spent your day puttering around the apartment cleaning and resetting your mind for landos return.

you’d been cleaning all day, reorganizing clothes, doing laundry and even venturing into landos office to clean his helmets. just after lunch you decided a nap would do you good. right before you decided to take yourself to your room, your phone chimes.

lan <3: hey love, just hopped out of the car. it feels great! how are you doing?

you smiled at his text, a picture attached of his sweaty post race face showing you a goofy smile.

gosh you already missed that face and it’s only been a day.

you: hi baby! i’ve cleaned so much i’m about to pass out, about to take a nap but i’m happy to see ur cute face before i sleep <3333

you sent a photo back of you poking your tongue out at the camera.

lan <3: aw there she is! love you baby, enjoy your nap, call me when your up xx

liking the message you click your phone off, placing it on the nightstand before getting comfortable in your bed. letting the sleep pull you into an essential nap.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the sun had moved through the sky when you woke, a pink glow flowing into the room. you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you felt well rested from your catnap, turning in your spot you catch the singular rose sat on the foot of the bed.

you scramble to your feet picking up the rose, examining it in your fingers. your look around your room slightly panicked, thinking someone broke in, you open the door to check the rest of the house.

swinging the door open you step out into the hallway, you feel a flutter at your feet, looking down you see a trail of rose petals. you gasp slightly, slowly following the flowers into the living room you stop in your tracks when the room is filled to the ceiling with bouquets of roses.

there were too many bouquets to count, you tried. you got to thirty before you gave up. moving to the kitchen where there were more bouquets to be found covering every surface there was.

placed in the middle of one of the bouquets was a letter, reading the envelope your stomach erupted to butterflies

my love

recognizing the handwriting was landos, you rip open the letter.

hey beautiful, i know i can't be home right now but i wanted to do something special because i love you more than words. 72 bouquets of roses for the 72 hours im away from you. see you soon pretty girl, i love you xx

L <3

flipping the card over you chuckled at the parting message

ps. max used his spare key to place these while you were asleep, i know you were probably worried about someone breaking in. he should still be outside if you wanna go say hi, love you, call me when you can!

you dashed to the front door, opening it to see a very disheveled max fewtrell stood on the other side. The man still had stray petals in his ruffled hair. you had to cover your mouth to muffle the giggles from escaping.

“lando promised me best man if i did this, you're an EXTREMELY heavily sleeper by the way” is all he says before raiding your fridge for leftover pizza, as you pick up your phone to ring the love of your life.

February 14th 2025

Lando woke up first again. the sunlight peeking through the curtains. he rolled over to find you sleeping soundly next to him, he couldn’t help but admire your peaceful state, you looked adorable with your face squished into the pillow.

he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before crawling out of bed. Today was the day he had planned down to a T. he spent the past two weeks waiting to shower you with his love.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

you stirred in your sleep to find Lando laying between your legs, soft kissing fluttering across your stomach, as he lifted your his shirt. You whimper softly when he sucks on the valley between your tits. your hips bucked as the heat between your legs grows.

“ ‘mmf- fuck lando” you moan when he trails kisses down your stomach, to settle between your thighs. licking his lips when he pulls your panties to the side. your core was dripping, Lando taking his fingers, spreading your wetness through your folds, praises falling from his lips as his nose brushed against your clit.

your hands found his curls, tugging softly to guide him through your folds, his tongue working wonders on every nerve ending. sending you dizzy.

Lando curled his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that had you like putty in his hands.

he loved seeing you like this, you looked angelic, eyes closed with your lips slightly parted. you tasted amazing, he groaned as he ate you out like a starved man. his tongue running up and down your folds, sucking on your clit while his fingers worked inside you.

“oh fuck…. lando!” you were a fucking mess above him, hardly able to form a sentence as you choke on moans. landos knees went weak at the noises you made, grinding slightly into the mattress to find from release. he relished in the sounds that tumbled from your lips just for him

“ come ‘for me baby, let me hear ya” he slurs into your folds, drunk on your taste.

the vibrations sending you over the edge as your finish on his face with a loud moan, your slick coating his goatee, lips puffy as he takes you through your orgasm.

you catch your breath as he places soft kisses on your clit, earning small whimpers as you come down from your high. you pull him away from your legs, his eyes blown out as he licks his lips before raising to place a sweet kiss on your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“happy valentines day gorgeous” he mumbles into your lips.

“happy valentines day lan” you reply sweetly. Lando switches to lie down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you choosing to spend a few minutes tangled together before you get up to start your day.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

your first gift of the day was a basket filled with your favourite goodies, an array of chocolates and sweets overflowing a small crochet basket partnered with a small jellycat lando had seen you dot over when you two took a trip to the market last week. you had ooo-d and aww-d at the plushie for five minutes before deciding you don't need it.

he went back and bought it the next day.

you were ecstatic when you saw the jellycat, throwing your arms around his neck while a string of thank you’s fell from your lips right before attacking his face with kisses on every inch of his tanned skin.

he laughed, “don't thank me yet, you still have one more gift.”

you raise your eyebrow at him, he matches your expression playfully before pinching your hips. lifting you off him to stand up. he leans down slightly, his face coming close to yours.

“but that's for later,” he says with a wink.

your face flushes pink and he swiftly makes his way out the room, leaving you standing frozen at his boldness.

“c’mon baby! we gotta get going!” Lando shouts to you, like he didn’t just send shivers down your spine at his words

you spent the day hand in hand, walking through London drinking overpriced coffee with Lando carrying multiple designer shopping bags with your name on it. he loved spending his money on you, letting you waltz around a high-end store with him and his wallet in tow while he got to sit on comfy couches and watch a personal fashion show.

that's his favourite pastime.

the day was filled with love and kisses, even after years together every kiss felt as special as the first. Lando loved you the same way now as he did when you were twenty and following him around the world with lovestruck hearts in your eyes. when you stumbled back into the apartment, clothes slightly misplaced after a steamy car ride home. you prepared for dinner while Lando took a nap, letting you do your thing.

the dress you’d chosen for tonight was one of Lando’s favourites, light pink silk that hugs your body in all the right places. Landos eyes lit up when you walked out, him sporting a white button up shirt with the top few buttons undone.. just how you like it, and black slacks.

“wow…you look gorgeous” his eyes raked up and down your body as you applied your lip gloss.

“and you look handsome as ever” you say, placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the restaurant was a small, italian, hole in the wall just outside of monaco. you and Lando adored dining here because you never had to worry about paparazzi, you could enjoy the company of each other during your meal.

you sat across from each other, your glass filled with some expensive scarlet wine while Lando nursed his whisky. he looked delicious, the dim lighting coating his tan skin like he was sent down from the gods just for you, chestnut curls tamed perfectly, matched with your favourite chain sitting on his neck.

your hands linked as he played with your engagement ring, your conversation casual as the waiter arrives with her notepad. Lando speaks up to order for the two of you

“she’ll have the fettuccine alfredo,” Lando points to you with a smile, “and I will have the penne marinara.” handing your menus off, you're left alone once again.

“now before food comes i want to give you one last gift” Lando speaks, reaching under the table, your browns knit in confusion as he places a small gift bag in front of you.

carefully pulling the tissue out of the bag a small jewelry box sits inside. your eyes meet Lando's and he's smiling back at you like you're the only girl in the room. “go on… open it,” he whispers with a slight nod.

inside the box sits a dainty silver necklace, tears prick your eyes as you touch the pendant. a small L with the number 4.

“lan.,” you sniffle “it's beautiful, thank you..” you take the necklace into your hands, immediately clasping it around your neck, getting up to give Lando a sweet kiss on the lips.

even after five years, and with his ring sitting on your finger, Lando loves to show the world, and you, that you are his and how much he loves you. he loves everything about you, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, your home cooked meals that welcome him home after a race weekend. you had been his rock for years and will continue to be in for the rest of his life. He smiled watching you sit across from him, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“just think, next valentines day,” he leans forward slightly, “we're gonna be married!” he whispers excitedly like you were keeping a secret. you giggle at him, matching his excitement.

“i know, i'm worried that if you went all out this year, what's gonna happen next year when i'm your wife!?” you joke, he giggles, throwing his head back slightly as his chest shakes with laughter.

“don't underestimate me baby, i've already got plans.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you for reading ahhh i hope u enjoyed

love ya see you soon (hopefully)

#formula 1 #lando norris fanfic #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando fluff #lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando smut #f1 smut #smut

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uvobreakmylegs · 10 hours ago

Text

Unforeseen

for fun this year @hypnoswrites and I both wrote Illumi fics for Valentines Day. no connection between the fics, just more dead fish eyes for love day this year :D

here's her fic~

Red Thread of Fate Soulmate AU with Illumi x reader

💕Happy Valentines Day💕

Warnings: assassination, mentions of death, mentions of torture, kidnapping

Word Count: 13.4k

Most days were rather dull for Illumi, he had to admit.

They largely consisted of the same limited activities: travel somewhere, accept a job, locate and kill a target and then be paid for doing so. Sometimes he met with the client if such a meeting was necessary for any reason, but most clients were satisfied with the transaction taking place through the butlers, so these days Illumi rarely needed to take part in a face to face meeting.

Sometimes days were different. Sometimes Chrollo required his services, which Illumi took, much to the annoyance of his father. Sometimes Hisoka decided to bother him, and Illumi would hold back on taking out his annoyance on the magician since it felt like getting rid of him at that moment would be a waste. Sometimes it was Illumi himself causing the detour in his routines, halting his work for something that he determined would be of use to him in the long run, such as the time he had spent taking the Hunter exam. But such things didn't happen often.

Aside from those instances and his frequent trips home before he went back out on a job, the routine largely stayed the same.

Travel. Kill. Payment. Again and again.

And while Illumi was in no way dissatisfied with his life was it was currently, it felt as though there was something missing.

Namely, his soulmate.

Like most who were capable of using nen, Illumi learned of the connection after he mastered gyo and subsequently found that invincible red thread around his finger. The explanation of what that thread meant was followed by strict instruction: that once the thread grew taut, it meant that his soulmate was nearby, and when that happened, he needed to find whoever it was on the other end of the thread and secure them. As with everything his parents told him, Illumi listened carefully and remembered their words, and not a day had gone by since then that he would check on the thread whenever he was away from home, wondering when the time would come that his soulmate was meant to meet him.

The meeting was something Illumi thought of often. For years following the day he learned of soulmates, he found himself gazing at that thread on his finger in the quiet moments during long hours of travel. The more time wore on, the more he wondered who was at the other end and why he hadn't yet met them. At first, when he was still in his training, he had expected that he would meet his soulmate once he had fully mastered nen. But that had been quite some time ago and no such thing had happened, thus his assumption had been false. So Illumi was left to wonder why it hadn't yet happened. Wondering why, after all of the time he spent traveling for jobs, the thread continued to lay slack and dead and refusing to lead him to that other person.

But patience was one of the qualities of a good assassin, and thus, Illumi waited. And until the day came where he would find the person that fate had decided belonged to him, he would continue with that same routine.

Travel. Kill. Payment.

Again and again, always working hard to do his best to uphold the Zoldyck family name, and always trusting that he would find his soulmate whenever fate would determine that the time was right.

It ended up being on an a day that was overcast, when the clouds were dark and looming overhead above him. When Illumi stepped out of his hotel to take care of the current job he had been hired for, he did what he had always done and glanced down at his left pinky finger, anticipating that it would be the same as always. But that was the day that the routine was broken as he realized that the thread around his finger was tight for the first time in his life.

When he saw that the thread was finally, finally taut, a surge of anticipation swelled within him.

For whatever reason, the time was now. While it was a mild inconvenience that he couldn't immediately go to his soulmate due to the fact that he was in the middle of a job, it made Illumi quicken his pace as he was eager to get it over quickly. With the large briefcase that the client had instructed that he take with him in hand, Illumi kept his eyes on the thread as made his way to the site where his first target was, watching as the thread grew tighter with each passing step, indicating that he was getting closer to where he would find the one at the other end of the thread.

Illumi expected that he would see them while he was on his way to his job. Perhaps passing by on the street or in a nearby shop. Based on how the thread seemed to be staying still on his soulmate's end, it appeared as though they were staying put. Again, he was spurred forward, a small smile appearing on the assassin's face as he thought of being able to take what was his, to have that connection he had heard spoken of so often from others.

He continued, getting closer and closer to the cafe where his first target was waiting and he still had yet to come across his soulmate. When it got to the point that the cafe was within viewing distance, Illumi began to wonder if they were in that same space as the target. An odd coincidence that his soulmate would be there, but perhaps that was fate playing its hand again. Even if his soulmate saw him with the target, it wouldn't matter. As long as nothing alarming happened between himself and the target in his soulmate's vicinity, it would be of little consequence.

But when he was finally across the street from the cafe and he caught sight of that person he had been waiting for, he froze.

Despite the clouds that had gathered over the heart of the city and their efforts to hide the sky above them, bits of blue and the bright light of the sun managed to break through every now and then. Such was the case when an opening in the clouds appeared just then, allowing forth a thin ray of sunlight that came down and settled on an area with a particular person sitting in the middle of it.

You.

You sat at one of the outdoor tables at the cafe, your index finger trailing across the plastic cup that held your sweet looking drink while the toe of your shoe tapped incessantly on the pavement beneath your seat. The slightly chill air that blew by caused you to shudder slightly, and you glanced behind yourself to look inside the cafe building, as though you were considering moving inside so you could be out of the cold. When you saw that no seats were available, you frowned to yourself and ultimately stayed where you were.

Still in that sunlight and with everything in the surrounding environment pointing to you. And as you sat beneath the spotlight that nature had created for you, Illumi watched intently from the other side of the crosswalk, taking in everything about you and only tearing his gaze away for a few scant seconds to stare down at his own left hand to make sure that what he thought he saw was correct: that the red thread which was attached to his pinky truly connected him to you.

No matter how many times he checked, there was no mistaking it. His eyes that followed the thread always brought him back to you and no one else.

His soulmate.

It should have been a good moment, as it was a moment he had been anticipating for a long time now. When Illumi saw you at last, saw your face for first time after imagining it for so long, it should have been a moment where he felt at peace upon witnessing his other half.

Instead those feelings of anticipation died immediately upon seeing you, and all Illumi felt in that moment was a mild confusion accompanied by immediate concern.

It didn't appear that he was the only one who was concerned.

Despite your attempts to appear casual, it was evident from your expression that you were nervous, and your gaze kept going to a long, thin parcel that sat upright in the seat next to you. From the way you glanced about, it was clear that you were waiting for someone. As if to further prove that point to him, you took another sip of your drink as you glanced at your phone, checking the time before you scanned the area that surrounded you.

It all matched up.

Concern turned into irritation – with whom exactly, Illumi wasn't sure yet. But someone was to blame for this, someone was responsible for this situation that felt like a horrid joke. This wasn't something that shouldn't have happened, not to him. Even though he found himself hoping that he was mistaken and the real target was within the cafe building behind you, taking up one of those seats you had wished to occupy, all of it simply matched up too well.

The time was 11:15.

The location was The Nest Cafe.

You were clearly waiting for someone to arrive.

And Illumi was certain that you were waiting for him.

It felt like too much of a coincidence that you would be there for any other reason. Not at this time and with that parcel in the seat next to you, not with the way you looked at the other people in the vicinity, subtly glancing up at those who walked by close to your table in anticipation of any one of them approaching you. And if that wasn't enough, your appearance matched with who he was told would be there waiting for him to perform the exchange.

Everything pointed to you being the one he needed to meet for his job. If that truly was the case, then that meant you were his target.

One of the those he had been hired to kill.

The assassin stared at you as his mind began to race. The disbelief of how such a thing could happen, how this much of a coincidence could occur consumed him. How you had landed yourself on the radar of Edgar Farley and how you had angered him to such a degree that he decided to spend extra for Illumi to torture you and your accomplices extensively before your existence was snuffed out.

Of all the things that could have happened, how in the world had he ended up taking on a job that required him to kill his own soulmate?

Illumi didn't notice that his grip had tightened too much on the handle of the briefcase until he heard it crack, and that sound was enough to snap him out of his all consuming thoughts. He needed to continue, he reminded himself. As a Zoldyck, he needed to complete the job for the name of his family, regardless of the unforeseen circumstances which involved you.

Of course, he wasn't going to kill you, which would mean he would need to come up with some sort of solution for the sixth body Farley was demanding.

Illumi let out a small, barely audible sigh as he gathered himself up internally.

He would figure it out. There was surely a solution that would allow him to have you and complete the job without any fuss. He had no doubts on that.

But for now, his focus needed to be on getting you somewhere out of sight.

With that, Illumi waited for the light at the crosswalk, and once it turned green, he began to make his way towards you, once more keeping his eyes on you and the thread as it grew smaller and smaller.

You noticed him quickly after he had crossed the street, and when you realized that he was staring straight at you, you turned your full attention to him, straightening yourself up in your seat when you saw that he was approaching you. When he stopped in front of you, it took you a moment before you spoke as you glanced down at the briefcase he held. Illumi saw the way your pulse quickened as the gears began to turn in your head, as you came to the assumption that he was the one you were waiting for.

Illumi spoke first, calling out your name in a questioning tone.

You nodded cautiously.

“Are you, uh-”

You faltered in the middle of your sentence, seemingly taken aback by the way he was looking at you.

Was the way he was staring at you that strange?

Regaining your voice, you tried again with “you're here for the…. Uh, the thing, right?”

…… That was how you were describing this?

“Yes,” he answered.

“Ah. Okay then.”

You got up from your seat, but then stopped as you looked down at your cup.

“Did… Did you want a drink, too?” you asked.

Illumi shook his head.

“I'd rather we head off.”

“Okay. That also works.”

You took one long, last sip before tossing the cup into the appropriate receptacle before hurrying back to the table to grab the parcel, tucking it beneath your arm as you looked back at him.

“The hotel is down that way. It isn't too long of a walk. A little bit less than seven minutes,” you told him.

Illumi nodded silently, then followed once you began to make your way down the sidewalk. Keeping his eyes on you, he found that while you were once again trying to hide it, you were clearly nervous. There was a jitteriness to your step, and your fingers kept playing with one of the edges of the parcel, slowly picking at it more and more with every moment that passed as you made the walk to the hotel.

You then stiffened as though a sudden thought had struck you, and you turned your head while you walked as you asked “sorry, I should've said something beforehand about us walking. It's not an issue, right? If it is, I can get us a taxi.”

“It's not an issue,” Illumi calmly replied.

“Oh, okay then. That's good.”

Your free hand then went up to nervously scratch at the back of your neck and you let out a shaky exhale that you must have thought he wouldn't be able to catch.

Why were you doing this if it made you so nervous?

It appeared that just being involved in this situation that was causing your distress. Perhaps you actually recognized how awful this plan was; the group you were part of appeared to be a foolish lot, with none of you seeming to truly know what you were doing. Illumi hoped you weren't the ringleader, as this get rich quick scheme was already pathetic, and he found himself disappointed that you were participating in it. He'd be even more disappointed if he knew you were the one to come up with it.

At least once he was done here, he wouldn't need to worry about you being able to do anything too foolish. The leash he would keep on you would be too tight for that.

You glanced over at him again, and he grew concerned when he saw your eyes furrow in worry upon meeting his gaze again.

Were you perceptive enough to realize that something was wrong?

That turned out to be unlikely, as when an elderly man who stood a few steps in front of you sneezed unexpectedly, you jumped, and the parcel nearly dropped from your hands. No, it didn't seem likely that you were aware of anything amiss; you were simply nervous about the situation as a whole.

Illumi frowned slightly as he watched you. Your nervousness was only an additional negative in this situation. Your lack of nen meant it would be harder for you to understand the connection, and if you weren't relaxed, you were guaranteed to not feel it in a timely manner.

As much as he hated to admit it, Illumi doubted that he would be able to ease your nerves and get you to trust him, and especially not in such a short time.

There was no choice but to take you by force. While that would cause issues that would be detrimental to the connection opening for you, it was better to go through with taking you by force. The time it would take for you to accept him would be longer, but that was the safest option he had.

The silence stretched over the two of you, though it didn't seem to do much to assuage your nervousness. As Illumi continued to follow you, his gaze once again went to the parcel being carried beneath your arm. That was the item that had been the source of this entire conflict, that the client desperately wanted back. Why Farley was willing to have him kill over a piece of art, Illumi couldn't fathom, though his own opinion hardly mattered in this instance.

But as he looked at the parcel, he found that something about it felt…. Off. From what he was told about the art he was to retrieve, the dimensions of what you carried didn't seem to match up with what had been described to him. He turned his gaze back to you, boring into the back of your skull as he grew suspicious over what exactly you were carrying. Things definitely didn't need to be complicated by you not having the painting in question.

He'd find out what was going on soon enough, he supposed.

The first bit of relief within you was seen when your shoulders loosened slightly as you looked beyond the path in front of you and caught sight of a hotel. While it was better than the average cesspit hotel with clientele that consisted of drug users and married spouses in the middle of an affair, the hotel was also considerably cheaper than the place Illumi had checked out of this morning. As he followed you in through the front doors, the assassin glanced about at the lobby. There were a fair amount of people milling around, all of whom seemed to be there from out of town for some kind of sporting event. No one bothered to even glance in your direction or his when you made a turn to the left and began to lead him down a hallway on the first floor.

Again, he wordlessly followed you as you made your way to a nearby stairway, and when you looked back at him again, you asked “are you cool if we take the stairs? With all those people around, I figure it's best that we avoid them if we can.”

“I have no issue with that,” he answered. As he followed you into the stairway, he spoke again, his voice echoing slightly against the barren walls as he asked “but why are you worried about people seeing us?”

“Ah, just…. You know. If we're stuck in a small space like an elevator, then people are more likely to take note of us. See us up close, and possibly say something to the police about us if something happens,” you said.

Illumi's eyes narrowed as he asked “are you expecting something to go wrong with the exchange?”

“N-no.”

“Then why the worry?”

“Just….. Just to be safe. Just in case,” you answered, “better to err on the side of caution, right? Neither of us want to be seen with something stolen, right?”

“I suppose.”

It was more than likely for the best that you were going out of your way to avoid the other guests at the hotel. Despite having how you had seemed to calm down some once you arrived here, it seemed as though his questioning had made your nerves shoot up again, and he didn't need you drawing attention to the both of you in such a way.

The way you became nervous so easily was likely going to be a tough issue for him to tackle, however. After all, you would become an assassin like him once the two of you were married, and the fact that he could easily see you freezing up in the middle of a job didn't bode well.

That would need to be trained out of you.

But he was getting ahead of himself. After all, he needed to solve this current set of issues with you before he could consider your training. And at the moment, he felt as though a big issue was quickly being taken care of. With every step he took as he followed you up the several flights of stairs, the he was getting closer to having you alone in a controlled space. That in and of itself was enough to give him a slight sense of relief.

It seemed as though you were of the same opinion, as once you made it to the hotel room in question and entered after Illumi had, you were quick to shut the door and flip the lock, breathing in deep before letting all out in a shaky sigh.

That time he chose to make a comment.

“You don't seem well,” he said.

You startled slightly, your eyes growing wide before you tried explain it away.

“I don't?” you asked, “I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so maybe that's why. Sorry about that.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Illumi asked.

Once again, you seemed surprised at the question.

“Force of habit, I guess,” you eventually got out.

Stepping by him, you moved towards the center of the room, where a small couch and coffee table were sitting in front of the single bed. An item sitting atop the table caught his attention: one of those portable money counting machines. The transaction would be taking place there, then.

After placing the parcel on the far end of the couch, you turned to him after and you clapped your hands together in a clear attempt to change the topic, forcing yourself to smile at him as you did so as if to convince him that everything was fine. Perhaps it was a way to convince yourself as well.

“So, um,” you began, “I guess I'll start with counting the money.”

Hearing that surprised him a little.

“I don't get to see the painting first?” Illumi asked.

“Um….”

You seemed caught off-guard by that question, and you stammered for a few moments, glancing back at the parcel briefly as you tried to come up with a response. In the middle of that, you oddly took the time to look at the door of the closet that stood behind him, your gaze flitting over to it briefly before you looked at him and cleared your throat.

“Uh, I think I should count the money first,” you told him, “just to, you know, be safe.”

“You think I'm going to scam you?”

“N-no. But it's a lot of money, and we're – I'm taking a lot of risks here.”

Your gaze grew a bit more grim as you added “plus, I heard that the previous owner was something of a psychopath, so I really want to be careful, you know?”

Then why steal from him if you're worried about him retaliating?

As reasonable as it would have been to ask that, Illumi held his tongue.

“Plus, like, even if the painting was fake and I did try to grab the money and run, I don't think I'd get far, you know?” you continued.

“What makes you think that?”

“You look like you could catch me easily. So I think running would be really dumb on my part.”

After a brief pause, you then admitted “the way you've been staring at me has also been intense and you're kind of scary, so I really don't want to make you mad at me.”

Illumi blinked.

“I'm scary?” he repeated.

You blanched, as if you hadn't realized what exactly you had said until he had repeated it. Your panic began to grow again as you started to apologize.

“I'm sorry, that was really rude of me! I didn't mean to say that,” you insisted, “I just meant to say….. Meant to say that I'm not going to try anything shady. That I wouldn't do that to anyone, and definitely not you. I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you continued “I was told that I needed to count the jenny first, so I'm just trying to do what I was told, you know?”

“….. I see.”

From the way you reacted to his response, it seemed as though you determined that you had said something wrong, as you were quick to then tell him “sorry, I'm not trying to make things difficult. I get why you need to be cautious, because you don't know me and eight billion is a lot to be handing off to a stranger. But I promise, as soon as I'm done I'll let you confirm that it's the real thing.”

There was a hint of desperation in your gaze as you then asked “does…. Does that sound good?”

Ending the charade now would have been prudent. If he did that, he would save himself some time, get the job over with quicker so he could focus fully on you. Knocking you out and calling up the butler that was waiting on standby for him to take you away while he figured out a replacement for you would be the best way to move forward.

But he still wasn't sure what was going on with the painting and he didn't want to sour your opinion of him by torturing you on your first meeting.

So instead, Illumi nodded.

“I understand,” he told you, “I'll wait, then.”

Though it was tinged with nervousness, the smile you gave him was one of genuine relief.

“Thank you,” you said.

Illumi said nothing, but he felt an odd sensation in his heart upon seeing you smile.

Keeping his face as that same blank mask he almost always wore, he settled down onto the chair that sat opposite of the couch. You sat as well, taking the briefcase that he had offered you and setting it on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly when you opened it, as you likely had never seen that much jenny before in your life.

As you began to count, Illumi thought of what you had said moments ago, the things you had said about him. And as if somehow sensing what he was thinking, you looked up at him again, your eyebrows pinching in worry as you spoke up.

“I really am sorry for what I said, if it offended you,” you reiterated.

“It's fine. It doesn't matter,” he answered.

That was a lie. It mattered a lot. Especially upon realizing that his soulmate was unsettled by him to the point that they viewed him to be scary, of all things. But as he recalled the lovely expression that had been on your face when you had thanked him moments earlier, he decided that he could forgive you.

So again he held his tongue and merely observed you after the two of you had taken your seats, and he watched as you pulled out a notebook and a pen before gathering a stack of jenny and placing it into the money counter after. Shortly after, the silence in the room was broken by the sound of the rustling paper as the jenny was put through the machine and the small screen at the front displayed the total that quickly shot up as more of the money went through. Soon enough that particular stack was done, and you jotted down the number on the screen before setting the stack aside and grabbing another from the briefcase, repeating the process again.

The two of you would be here for a while.

As much as Illumi wished to have used this time to speak with you, it was clear that you wouldn't be receptive to it. You saw this as a business transaction. Any personal questions coming from him would likely only earn him more worried looks and apologies as you desperately tried not to offend him. So he sat in silence while he watched, keeping his eyes on you as you continued the monotonous task.

At the beginning you would glance up at him periodically, only to quickly avert your gaze when you saw him looking at you. Eventually you stopped doing that, and it seemed as though you were making a point to keep your focus only on your notebook, the money counter and the contents of the briefcase.

What exactly makes me so scary?

That question would need to wait until later, as much as that fact irked him.

With little else to do, Illumi glanced again at the parcel. Again, the dimensions didn't seem right to him. And as he remembered the way you had glanced over at the closet, a possible explanation began to form in his mind, but it was one he would likely need to wait for until you had finished what you were doing.

Now that his mind was again on the task at hand, he asked “how exactly did you come upon this piece?”

Tensing at the sound of his voice, you glanced up at him and then immediately averted your gaze.

“Um, I don't think I'm supposed to say anything about that. All that matters is that it's real, right?” you asked in reply.

“We're talking about a stolen art piece. We're both 'taking risks' for this, as you put it. I think I'm entitled to know how you got ahold of this,” he answered.

Your shoulders sank slightly as you appeared to concede.

“We, uh, we heard it was just sitting in storage, that no one had checked in on it in a while. So my roommate figured we could take it and no one would notice,” you quietly explained.

“It seems like he was right because it hasn't been reported missing yet,” you added.

“Your roommate?” Illumi repeated.

You froze. And then you seemed disappointed with yourself as you were forced to admit “my roommate knows a guy who works at that museum where it was stored.”

“Why aren't they here?”

“He's the one who thought of this and got everything set up. The other guys were the ones who took the painting. So this is the part I need to do.”

You quickly looked back to the money counter, once again scribbling down the number listed on the screen.

The more he learned, the more Illumi was convinced that whomever had been the mastermind of this plan – your roommate, evidently – they hadn't thought through it very well. As was usually the case for the theft of fine art. If the thief didn't have a buyer lined up beforehand, they typically had a hard time selling it off for any sort of profit. While exceptions for that rule existed, such as the Phantom Troupe whose notoriety had fans of theirs wanting to buy items that had been in their possession, a small group of first time criminals were never going to achieve such success. This entire interaction had been set up so you and others who thought about stealing from his client would learn a lesson. It was always going to end badly for your group.

The one thing Illumi could be thankful for was the fact that he had been selected to carry out the hit. It allowed him the control he needed to navigate the situation and guide it to an ending where the client was satisfied and you were still alive.

When the process of counting the eight billion finally ended and you confirmed that what was given to you was the correct amount, you shut the notebook, placed the jenny back within the briefcase and then looked to him, saying “everything looks good. I'll show you the painting now.”

Instead of handing him the parcel, you stood up and walked over to the closet that stood in front of the door, sliding it open before you reached inside. When you pulled your hand back out, you were holding another parcel.

He caught on immediately as he asked “is that the real painting?”

You looked back to him, and then nodded.

“Yeah. The one on the couch is a decoy,” you explained, “just in case.”

“Just in case?” he repeated.

“In case you thought it'd be better to take it from me when we were outside,” you said, “I figured since I'm not really intimidating at all, a potential buyer might think of stealing it and leave us with nothing, so I put the real one in here beforehand.”

When he didn't respond to that, your fingers tensed on the edge of the new parcel, looking away as you mumbled “I thought it was a good idea.”

“It certainly shows that you exercised more caution than I gave you credit for,” Illumi said.

“Thank – thank you?” you replied, uncertain if you should take his words to be insulting or not. Regardless of that, you stepped forward as you approached the coffee table once again, holding the parcel out to him to take.

You sat back down on the couch after, watching him as he undid the piece of twine that held the brown paper wrapped around the painting. You were eager to get this over with, as your hand was seated next to the handle of the briefcase, twitching every now and then as if you wanted to grab it and leave. In your mind, this ordeal was almost over, and you would soon be able to return home to your cohorts with your ill-gotten gains.

His attention was brought to the painting as he unwrapped it fully and pulled it up to inspect that it was the genuine article.

The painting was moderately sized and featured a scene that could likely be found on the cover of an average historical romance novel. At the center of the piece was a maiden upon a balcony, having just swung her legs over the railing as she sat atop it with her ankles peeking out beneath the skirt of her dress. A short distance beneath her was a knight upon his horse, reaching out to her as if beckoning her to take the leap, an assurance her that he would catch her. And in the background that featured a room that led to that balcony, a door had been forced open, with several men charging in, no doubt with the intent of grabbing the maiden before she could flee with her knight lover.

While the art of the painting was detailed and could be considered beautiful, and the piece certainly told a story, Illumi couldn't fathom how and why such a silly painting managed to cause so much trouble, much less why the owner was so incensed at it's theft that he was willing to pay so much for it's return. And if it had been that precious to him, why had Farley left it in that museum in the first place?

You leaned forward in your seat, scanning for any hint of change in his expression as he looked it over.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“It's acceptable.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You're spending eight billion and you just find it 'acceptable'?” you asked.

“All I care is that it's the genuine article,” he told you.

“Oh. Okay then.”

With a note of finality in your voice, you straightened up in your seat, your hand once more grasping the handle of the case as you said “so if you're satisfied, then we're done here, right? Transaction closed?”

Illumi nodded slowly.

“Yes, I suppose that's correct.”

“Okay then. Do you want to leave first, or should I? I'm fine if you want to go first, but I'm not sure how much time I should wait before leaving myself.”

“You aren't leaving,” he told you.

“…..”

The silence stretched out through the entirety of the room as you stared at him, your nerves slowly but steadily growing once again as you looked at him in confusion.

“But I need to take this back….?” you questioned.

“That isn't happening.”

“W-why?”

“Because I'm an assassin and I've been hired to kill you,” Illumi said, “therefore, I cannot allow you to leave this room with that case.”

You stared at him silently, your eyes widening in shock as his words sunk in. Your gaze went down to the floor as you began breathing heavily and you began to tremble. You accepted it. No questions about what he was talking about or if he was trying to joke around – you could tell he was serious.

Illumi was ready for you to do something in response. A normal reaction would likely be to run from him, either to escape out the door or the window. Both had their own pros and cons, though if it was Illumi in this situation, he would likely choose the window. Whether or not you would do the same remained to be seen. Though it was possible that you might choose to fight back, not that you would be able to do much against him. He had trained for as long as he had remembered, so no matter how strong you may potentially be, there was little chance that a civilian like yourself would be able to overpower him. The best you would be able to do would be to throw items in the room at him, and that would still be next to nothing.

He was overthinking things, because as he looked at you, he didn't see any ounce of fight in you. You were still gazing down at the floor, and while your breathing had slowed slightly, you were still in distress. If he were to guess, this must have been a worst case scenario for you, one that either the members of your group or you yourself had said couldn't possibly happen, that your luck wouldn't ever be so bad.

You even said that the client was a psychopath, so why you thought this wouldn't happen was still a mystery to him. At least he would make sure you wouldn't be making such terrible decisions in the future.

Illumi waited for you to act, already mapping out in his head what he would do in response to whatever you chose.

He waited.

And waited.

And Illumi felt confusion growing within him once more as you didn't act.

You weren't running.

Time was ticking by, and you stayed on that spot on the couch, only moving to slump backwards against the seat. Instead of attempting to save yourself from a man who just told you that he was an assassin, you stayed still, refusing to move at all. The exact opposite of running.

Illumi's brows furrowed as he asked “why aren't you running?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his question.

“Why?” you repeated, “I guess…. I mean, what's the point? I'm in a room with you that has only one exit, and I'm pretty sure you'll catch me if I run. Actually, we had a conversation about that just a few minutes ago, didn't we? And you seemed to agree with me. So why should I bother making things worse for myself by running?”

He frowned, not liking the way you had given up so easily and accepted your fate.

“You won't even try to fight back?” he asked.

“Again, what's the point? I can tell just by looking that you're stronger than me. I don't wanna get into a fight that I know I'll lose,” you said.

Illumi blinked when you said that, hearing one of his own lessons that he had ingrained into his younger siblings coming from your lips catching him off guard momentarily. Despite not even knowing of him before this day, you already knew one of the lessons he had intended to teach you.

Within an instant, Illumi felt a bit more hopeful for you. While you seeming to accept your death was far from ideal, he was certain that he could make you unlearn that response.

You were his soulmate, after all. Teaching you would be easy.

“You do have a good point – I am stronger than you. As you are right now, you could never defeat me,” he told you.

You didn't react to his statement, instead continuing to stare down at the floor dejectedly.

“But it isn't good that you're giving up so easily. In the future, if you find yourself in this position again, you should find an escape route and remove yourself from the situation.”

At that, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him strangely.

“In the future?” you repeated, “what future? You said you were going to kill me.”

“I said that I was hired to kill you,” Illumi stated, “but that doesn't mean I'm going through with it.”

And with that, there was a bit of hope in your eyes, a bit of life breathed back into you as you straightened up, now watching and waiting intently for his every word as you now believed that there was a way out of this. Of course, there was, but it wouldn't be in the way you expected.

You gulped before you asked “you…. You're going to let me go?”

“No.”

Your shoulders sank again as Illumi continued with “I'm not killing you, but I also can't let you go. If I did that my client would find out and that would cause issues for myself and my family.”

“So then…. Then what? What happens to me? Why are you sparing me?” you asked.

“I need you alive,” he said.

“Why?”

“I'll explain that later.”

“Why?” you asked again, your voice growing a bit more fearful.

“Because I have no time to discuss it now,” he said plainly.

With that, he stood up and closed the distance between the two of you. You still didn't move when he approached, not even to scoot away to the other side of the couch. You simply sat there, cowering and fearful as you stared up at him.

“You said it was your roommate who put you up to this, correct?” he asked.

At that your eyes widened slightly before you frowned, only now realizing your slip up in having mentioned that fact.

“…. I shouldn't have said that, should I?” you asked.

Illumi nodded at you.

“In any other situation, that would have been a poor choice on your part,” he told you, “but it doesn't really matter all that much now. Your name as well as the others was already given to me. I was just made to go along with this so I could recover the painting.”

The assassin grabbed at your bag, opening it and rummaging through until he found your wallet. Shortly after he had your ID in hand, and he read the address that had been printed on the card.

“Is your roommate home right now?” he asked, not looking away from the card as he did so.

“….. I think so.”

“Will the others from your group be there?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I see.”Illumi pocketed the card before looking back to you.

“… If I told you to trust me, I'd be demanding too much from you, wouldn't I?” he asked.

“…. A little bit, yeah,” you admitted.

Nodding at your answer, Illumi said to you “I appreciate you being honest with me.”

Then the assassin stood back up -And with a quick strike of his hand at the back of your neck, you fell over on the couch as you were knocked unconscious.

Without missing a beat, Illumi pulled his cellphone from his pocket and went about dialing the number for the butler who was meant to pick him up once this part of the job was finished with. As expected, the call was picked up before the first ring had finished.

“I need you to come to the back of the Arcadia Hotel,” Illumi told the butler, not bothering with any sort of greeting or an explanation.

“Understood, Master Illumi. I'll be there within ten minutes,” they answered.

The call ended just as quickly as it had started, and Illumi looked back to you. Even in unconsciousness, you still appeared to be in distress as your brows were furrowed and you were frowning. Not even sleep could relieve you of your worries, and as he stared at you, Illumi felt an odd bit of anger rising in his chest. You were unprepared for such tasks like this one, yet those people – your roommate and whoever else was involved – had pushed you to do this regardless. They had been so irresponsible and careless that you had ended up on a hit list, and had it not been for Farley going to him specifically, someone else would have killed you.

You would have died easily had it not been for the strange coincidence of him being the one to take the job.

The thought of you dying made his anger worse, and for a brief moment, that rage seeped out, quickly filling the small space of the room and making the lights flicker from the force of it.

You didn't remain unaffected by it, either, as when you were hit with with the force of his anger, you shuddered in your sleep.

Within an instant, that anger petered out.

And without thinking, Illumi moved, hoisting you up into his arms and then settling back down onto the couch with you in his embrace. Your cheek rested against his chest while your pliant body molded against his in a comfortable fashion. An idle thought came to mind – with where your head was resting, were you able to hear his heartbeat that was next to your ear? Would you be able to tell such a thing as you were now?

That seemed to have broken Illumi out of his stupor as he blinked once again. Now truly taking in the sight of you on his lap, he realized he had acted on impulse, not really thinking about his actions when he had pulled you into his grasp. It felt strange. Physical acts like this one – to hold someone to himself – were not actions he was used to. Everyone within his family were inclined to keep physical contact to a minimum, and outside of his family, there was no one that he would allow to touch him, not without them paying for it after.

But with you, it had come naturally and with no hesitation on his part. One look at your face had driven him to hold you, as if to ease your distress while you slept. Such things that he was feeling for someone he hadn't even known an hour, and all because of a thread that you couldn't even see.

Illumi's hand went up to stroke your hair, his fingers trailing gingerly through the strands as he quietly murmured to himself “the soulmate bond is a strange thing indeed.”

Strange, that it would drive him to do something he had never once been inclined to do.

But at the same time, it felt good.

He stayed like that with you, holding you and caressing you gently. While the time passed by peacefully, the gloomy clouds that could still be seen outside the hotel room window parted, allowing the sun to filter in with a warm glow.

When Illumi's cellphone rang, it caught him off-guard. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he found himself surprised when he saw that the aforementioned ten minutes had passed, and the butler was no doubt calling him to inform him that he had arrived.

Had the time truly passed so quickly?

His mouth set in a small frown as he lifted you back into his arms, adjusting you before he stood up and carried you out of the room.

Under normal circumstances, the butler wouldn't have needed to call for him for any reason. Any other time, Illumi would have been waiting at the aforementioned spot long before his ride would have arrived. That he had gotten so distracted simply from holding you was somewhat worrying, and he hoped this sudden distracted attitude was a one-time thing due to him finding you.

The butler he had called for was standing at the ready when Illumi walked out through the employee only door of the hotel, and they bowed respectfully when they saw him. Their gaze narrowed ever so slightly when they saw you unconscious in his arms, but they said nothing, waiting for their master to speak first.

Illumi did just that once he had reached them, stopping before them to ask “what is my schedule for the next few days?”

“During the time you spent with the target, another request came in for your services, Master Illumi,” the butler said, “two days from now, in the Kakin Empire.”

“Give it to Milluki; I'm sure whatever it is, he can handle it,” Illumi told them.

“And if Master Milluki is not available…?”

“He's always available. He never leaves home unless someone makes him.”

The butler nodded and listened intently as the assassin continued “don't bring me any assignments for the next few days. I need my schedule completely clear.”

“For this person, Master Illumi?” the butler asked as they once more looked at your unconscious form.

Illumi stared back to them intently as he said “this is my soulmate. You'll show them respect.”

At that, the butler immediately understood, bowing their head as they answered “of course, Master Illumi. My apologies.”

“You'll look after them while I complete my current job,” Illumi said, “should they wake up before I return, you will tend to their needs while keeping them safe.”

“Of course, Master Illumi.”The butler then moved to take you from Illumi's arms, but stopped when he gave them a long, hard stare.

“Open the door,” the assassin ordered.

Moving quickly, the butler did just that, opening the back door and holding it wide for him. Illumi then carried you into the car's interior and set you down onto one of the long seats, handling you gently as he did so. As he pulled back and began to step out of the vehicle, he found that he was remiss to leave you. But as he still had a job to complete, there was nothing to be done about it.

After exiting the car, he waited for the butler closed the door before turning to them one last time.

“Don't speak of the discovery of my soulmate to anyone,” he ordered, “I will let my family know in my own time.”

One last time, the butler nodded in understanding, and they waited until Illumi began to leave the area before they took their place back in the driver's seat and drove off. Illumi couldn't help but take one glance behind himself as you were driven away. Despite knowing that with the way you were laid out on the backseat and that he wouldn't be able to see you, something still caused his head to turn as he watched the car move further away, as he watched the thread from within the vehicle become more slack with every bit of distance put between the two of you.

When he returned to the hotel room to grab the painting was when he realized another mistake, an oversight on his part. Illumi froze after he entered, catching sight of something on the couch where the both of you had been sitting not so long ago:

The briefcase.

With the eight billion jenny.

The jenny that had been Farley's payment for the job, that he had intended to give to that butler so he didn't need to drag it with him when he killed the other targets. Yet it remained on the couch.

Illumi had been so concerned with getting you to safety, he had managed to forget it completely.

Pursing his lips, a small scowl made its way onto his face as he stepped forward, determining that he had no choice and that he would need to take both the briefcase and the painting when he went to the apartment where your roommate was. It was obnoxious, but he wasn't going to call back the butler.

Admitting that he had forgotten something would be far too embarrassing.

The car was driving along a lonely stretch of the two lane highway while the sun slowly descended to the earth, casting the sky in golden colors as it sank lower and lower. It had been a while now since they had left the boundaries of the city, and there was still some time before they would reach the intended destination. But with a freshly filled gas tank and a driver who was more than capable of withstanding the hours of driving that were left on the journey, Illumi doubted that there would be any delays from this point. They would arrive at one of the Zoldyck's many homes in due time, and then Illumi could get to know you.

He was currently staring at you, just as he had been at the start of the journey. After the hit job that took longer than expected to complete due to his targets being spread out and the added stress of finding someone to act as a replacement for you – all taken care of with a single needle and the disfigurement to the heads – Illumi had been eager to see you again. Though there had been a slight disappointment on his end when he entered the car and saw that you were still unconscious, he quickly overcame that when he took advantage of your current state in order to place you so that your head rested on his lap.

Just like in the hotel room earlier, it wasn't an action that he was accustomed to – he had never considered doing something like that for someone before this – but with you, it felt right. Natural.

And as he lightly brushed his knuckles against your cheek while you slept soundly under his watch, he found that he felt content. After years of waiting, of fruitlessly searching, he finally found you. Not under the best circumstances, that was for certain, but seeing how things had ultimately turned out, it was all worth the wait.

Though there did remain the matter of your reaction once you had awoken and how you would receive him once he told you the truth.

A small frown once more graced his lips. Teaching you nen and showing you that way would be the best way to prove it to you, though it would take some time. While he had no issue spending that time, he felt another pang of disappointment hit him. He liked you as you were now; pliant and accepting of his touch, as more than once when he had stroked you, you had leaned into him, subconsciously seeking him out. It felt nice, an acknowledgment of the connection that some deeper part of you surely recognized. That you would likely be resistant to him once you were awake was a shame, but one that was unlikely to be avoided.

Learning about you wouldn't come about quickly, he feared. It would take time to tear down the walls you would no doubt build around yourself. So getting to know what you were really like, the areas in which the two of you were similar and the ways in which you differed, and the way that he hoped that you would be loving with him, as was so often spoken of, all of that would only come in time.

With that in mind, Illumi was making an effort to cherish this moment on the journey, when he could caress you all he wanted without you making a fuss.

But not long after, it seemed as though that moment was coming to an end.

He noted when you began to stir awake, your eyebrows furrowing and your mouth turning into a frown as your consciousness slowly but surely returned to you. With your head still resting on his lap, Illumi watched you intently, keeping his hand on your hair. The reaction you would have when you woke up was bound to be a bad one. You would likely remember most of what had happened before he had knocked you out and you would respond with that same fear as before once you saw that you were laying in the confines of such a small space with a man who had told you he'd been hired to kill you.

Illumi anticipated how you might lash out at him, perhaps attack him if you thought you might be able to catch him off guard. Although, based on the way you had reacted back at the hotel room, it wasn't hard to imagine that you might beg him to let you go, perhaps even cry while doing so.

The mental image of you with tears in your eyes had a bad taste form at the back of Illumi's mouth as he found that the thought displeased him.

…. Hm. Just from the thought alone?

His eyes went back to the thread that connected him to you, and once more he felt a small amount of amazement at how powerful the connection was already. But with you not knowing nen, how long would it take for you to sense it?

The fluttering of your eyelids had Illumi's gaze snapping back to your face, and once more he watched intently as you were now waking up.

The look he could see in your eyes when they first opened was best described as being dazed. For a few moments, you were looking around the interior of the car, but sleep still had some hold on your mind as no reaction from you as you did so. Not until your gaze drifted upwards and you caught sight of Illumi looming over you. And even then it took a few moments of you gazing at him before your mind truly became awake.

Illumi watched as the dazed look in your eyes dissipated, the sleepiness being replaced with wide eyed shock and horror as you remembered him, your once slack jaw tightening and the breath now coming out of you harsh and fast through your nose, betraying your utter panic. You had your full attention on the assassin, staring up at him and not daring to move, even when you realized just where he had chosen to place your head during the time you were unconscious.

He didn't like the way you looked at him, but Illumi supposed that he shouldn't blame you too much for that reaction. He also supposed that he would need to be the one to start a dialogue between the two of you, as you seemed too terrified to speak.

Yet you managed to do something unexpected.

With your voice croaking out of your throat and your lips barely moving, you managed to get out a single “hi.”

Illumi blinked in surprise, but then chose to copy you as he responded with a similar “hello.”

He stayed quiet after, giving you the opportunity to speak on your own again.

You did just that. After your gaze went back to your surroundings, you looked him in the eyes again as you mumbled out “we're in a car.”

“We are,” Illumi agreed.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Why else would we be in a car?”

“Ah, right. Sorry. That was a stupid question.”

You were having an easier time speaking, though the wild look of panic in your eyes had yet to go away.

“Can I…. Can I ask where we're going?” you then said, your gaze now on what little you could see through the tinted windows.

“Somewhere safe.”

“…. Safe for who?”

“Safe for us both.”

You blinked.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

Illumi raised an eyebrow as he replied “I should think you would understand what that means. I don't believe I've said anything confusing.”

“I mean, well……”

You glanced away again before saying “it just feels like you're being a little vague with what you're saying. Plus, you could be lying to me.”

Illumi cocked his head as he asked “why do you think I'm lying?”

“You weren't being very truthful earlier,” you reluctantly answered.

He frowned at that.

“You're saying that I lied to you?” he asked.

You nodded.

“When did I lie?”

“With the whole exchange,” you mumbled, “you were pretending to be a buyer.”

“I never claimed to be. You only asked if I was there for 'the thing',” he pointed out.

“But you're an assassin.”

“I never said that I wasn't.”

“You lied by omission.”

Illumi's eyebrows raised slightly.

“Not mentioning something counts as lying?”

“….. Yeah.”

That answer had come out more mumbled, as though you weren't willing to admit that he was right.

It was rather cute, but commenting on that fact was unlikely to be received well in that moment.

As you had quieted down, he took the opportunity to speak as he said “regardless of if I was lying or not earlier, I'm telling the truth when I say that I intend to keep both of us safe. I hope you believe me on that. It's the least you could do after the trouble you've caused for me today.”

You looked up at him in confusion as you repeated “trouble?”

Illumi nodded, repeating the word “trouble. With you getting on that hit list, you put me in an awkward situation.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.”

You hadn't relaxed much since waking up, but it seemed to be a good sign that your voice wasn't shaking quite as much anymore.

“I never imagined I'd manage to fuck up badly enough to make things difficult for an assassin,” you added.

Under normal circumstances, Illumi would have considered such a reaction – such words – to be odd, especially coming from someone who knew that he had been hired to kill them. But as he thought on it more, perhaps it wasn't so strange. You were his soulmate, and while you had spent the majority of the car ride unconscious, perhaps the physical contact made with him keeping your head on his lap had been enough to awaken the connection subconsciously.

To test that, Illumi reached a hand towards your cheek, eager to see what your reaction would be. When you did nothing other than stare at his palm before it made contact with your skin, he felt as though he was proven correct. When he began to softly stroke your cheek and he felt you stiffen slightly before relaxing in his touch, the assassin couldn't help but smile.

This was going even better than he hoped.

Finally responding to your last statement, Illumi told you “it's alright. Everything managed to work work out regardless.��

“That's good, I guess.”

You gulped before taking in another breath, and then you spoke up again.

“Not that your lap isn't….. Comfortable, but are you okay if I sit up? Continuing the conversation like this feels awkward,” you said.

Despite not wanting to grant that request after enjoying the time he'd had with you in that position, Illumi pulled his arms away and leaned back slightly as he answered “of course.”

That you sat up immediately and scooted just a few inches away was again displeasing to Illumi, but he told himself that it was good that was all you were doing. That you were being so reasonable was a very good thing for himself, as well as for you.

Looking about the car once more, this time while sitting up, your gaze lingered briefly on the butler in the front seat, as though you hadn't noticed them before. Whatever you made of their presence was unknown as you tore your gaze away to look again at Illumi.

“Can I ask more questions or do you want me to shut up?” you asked.

“You may ask as many questions as you like,” Illumi told you, “I will answer to the best of my ability.”

“Ah. Okay. Um…”

Your fingers played with the hem of your shirt while you formulated your question, something Illumi found his gaze drawn to. He remembered the way in which you had toyed with the paper of the decoy parcel, and it seemed to him that you had a habit of fidgeting whenever you were nervous.

“You said…. You said you were hired to kill me, right?” you asked.

Illumi nodded.

“And you…. Didn't?”

“You're alive right now, aren't you?”

“I mean, I think so,” you said, “this would be one weird afterlife to end up in.”

“I just – I don't want to sound ungrateful,” you added, “but I have to admit that I'm really confused about why I'm still alive. I really thought I was going to die earlier – you said you'd been hired you to kill me, so I don't get why you didn't go through with that.”

“It's because I can't kill you,” Illumi answered.

You picked up on his choice of wording as you repeated “Can't? Not 'won't'?”

“Exactly. I can't.”

“Why?”

Without wasting a breath, Illumi said “because we're soulmates.”

Upon hearing that response, you didn't reply. You stared up at him blankly, blinking every now and then as though you were still processing his words. Seconds ticked by as you stayed like that, and Illumi stayed quiet in turn. As he had been telling himself before, he should anticipate a reaction of disbelief from you. Based on your current temperament, you likely wouldn't lash out, though if you were to do so, it would be from desperation and panic.

“Soulmates?” you repeated, “is that similar to love at first sight or something? You saw me and felt I was the one?”

“No. When I say we're soulmates, I mean that the two of us are literally soulmates.”

Illumi lifted up his left hand as he told you “there's a thread that spans the space between the both of us, that connects the two of us together. We're meant to be with one another.”

You looked to his hand and then to your own.

“I'm…. I'm not sure I see a thread,” you said.

“That's because you aren't able to yet, but it's there.”

“…… Oh.”

Illumi blinked at your lackluster reaction, wondering if that really was all you had to say about that.

But you next response was what truly surprised him, as after taking a moment to seemingly mull it over, you let out a small response that simply consisted of a single word.

“Okay.”

Illumi blinked again and he stared at you, uncertain if he had really heard you say what he thought you said. Even the butler who had remained quiet throughout the whole exchange glanced back with a puzzled expression on their face.

Upon seeing his reaction, your eyebrows furrowed and your anxiety began to build again.

“Was…. Should I not have said that?” you asked, “were you really joking when you said that?”

Your question snapped Illumi out of his slight stupor.

“I wasn't joking,” Illumi clarified, “I'm telling the truth. You're my soulmate.”

Upon hearing him again, you nodded slightly as you let out a soft breath. And then you said it again.

“Okay.”

…. You were accepting it that easily?

Illumi wasn't sure what to say, and that in of itself was strange for him.

He must have been looking at you strangely again because your nerves only continued to grow.

“Did I say something wrong? You don't seem very happy,” you said.

“… I'm a little surprised,” Illumi admitted, “I thought it would take more to convince you on account of you being unable to see the thread yourself, at least at this moment in time.”

“Ah, I guess that is a little weird,” you said, scratching the back of your neck as you added “but if that's what you say is the truth, then I'll believe you.”

“You'll believe me?” Illumi repeated.

“Y-yeah. I mean, if you kill people for a living and you chose not to kill me, then you must have had a good reason not to, right? And if you say that it's because we're soulmates, then I'll trust that that's the truth. You told me to believe in you, right?”

Remembering his words from earlier, he nodded in agreement as he confirmed “I did say that.”

You nodded in turn as you said “so I believe you.”

It looked as though you were going to say something further after reiterating that last point, but when you opened your mouth, you seemed to reconsider whatever you had planned on saying. So you shut your mouth and remained silent while you went back to fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, though you made an effort to relax yourself as you leaned against the back of the seat.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you said, “it's a bit much to take in, but I'll manage.”

You then spoke up once more as you asked “can I ask another question?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to my roommate and the others?”

“They're dead.”

You went quiet after Illumi's blunt response, and though he could see that you were once more attempting to keep your expression level, the panic in your eyes was easy to spot.

“Their bodies will have been handed over to the client by now, as well as the painting that your friends stole,” he said.

“…. But…. Does he know about me? Or did you not tell him?” you asked.

“I told you before: he was already aware of your involvement. He knew all of you, and he could have disposed of you on his own. He went out of his way to choose me because he wanted you four to suffer,” Illumi answered, “but not to worry. I found a solution in your case. Farley has no idea that you aren't dead. Even if the unlikely happens and he comes across you, he wouldn't dare do anything to you, not if he wants to risk bringing down the wrath of the Zoldyck family upon him. Once we are married and you have my name, he'll be none the wiser.”

Unfortunately, it didn't appear that you truly heard him, as when he told you that you could have been disposed of earlier, a look of dread passed over you and sweat started to bead on your neck. When your breathing grew harsher, he grew concerned once more. And when you suddenly clamped both of your hands over your mouth, Illumi stopped speaking completely, his gaze narrowing in question.

“What is it?” he asked.

“….. Could we pull over?” you asked back, your voice muffled by your hands.

Upon hearing that, Illumi grew suspicious as he asked “why?”

“I'm gonna throw up.”

“…. Oh.”

Within seconds the car had pulled over to the side of the deserted road, and a few mere moments after that you were on your knees in the nearby grass, your arms holding yourself up as you violently emptied the contents of your stomach, gagging while tears began to fall down your cheeks.

Perhaps there had been something in that drink you had gotten at the cafe that didn't agree with you, Illumi thought to himself. Though regardless of the cause it wasn't an ideal look, especially not for someone who was going to marry into the Zoldyck family. But he found himself willing to forgive you for it. You would need to learn to toughen up but for the time being…. For the time being he would offer you some grace and refrain from commenting on it.

It also might ensure everything would go smoothly between the two of you if he treated you gently.

He then caught sight of the way the butler was looking at you. They were still at their place at the door, holding it open with a water bottle in hand that was clearly intended for you. But as they gazed at the state you were in, there was an obvious look of disgust in their eyes. As they watched you while you were on your knees and retching, it was clear that they thought little of you, clear that they felt you were unworthy of the position within the family that they served.

A rush of anger swelled within the assassin when he saw that look.

The butler noticed instantly when Illumi fixed his death glare upon them, and they were quick to bow their head in submission, wordlessly apologizing to him for their transgression.

Neither said anything, though the butler did visibly tense when Illumi approached him. Instead of disciplinary action, the assassin simply snatched the bottled water from the butler's hand before making his way to your side. Once your vomiting spell had come to an end and you were merely left gasping and coughing, he had knelt down beside you, holding the water out for you.

“Drink. Vomiting leads to dehydration,” he told you.

You took the bottle without question, using it first to wash out the taste in your mouth before gulping down half of the contents in several long gulps. When you pulled the bottle away to breathe out through your mouth in what sounded like relief, Illumi placed his hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked after a moment.

It took you a moment to respond to his question, but you eventually nodded 'yes'.

“That's good.”

Illumi's hand settled on your shoulder as he then asked “do you think you can get back into the car?”

That time, the moment you took to answer was even longer than the last one, but once more you gave a nod in response.

“Sorry for making you stop,” you answered as you pulled yourself to your feet, “I figured you didn't want vomit covering your nice seats.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. Such things can either be cleaned or replaced,” Illumi answered.

He tilted his head to the side as he asked “do you need me to carry you?”

Once more you froze for a brief second, but then you shook your head and gave him a small smile as you answered “the car isn't that far away. I'll be fine walking.”

“Thank you for offering, though,” you quickly added.

“Of course.”

Though secretly, Illumi wished you had said 'yes'.

It was made up for soon after once you were both sitting in the car's interior once more. When Illumi sat down next to you, close enough that his arm was brushing against yours, you didn't make any move to get away from him, instead allowing him to remain close.

As the car started up again and began to drive off, you spoke up to ask “does anyone else know about this?”

“That you were my target?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Only you, myself and the butler. And they won't inform anyone,” Illumi told you confidently.

“But doesn't the client know me?” you asked.

“The matter for the client has been settled. I very much doubt he will remember your name or your face come tomorrow.”

“So as long as I stay with you, I'll be safe,” you said, seeming to state that fact out loud more to yourself.

Illumi replied anyway, saying “of course. Protecting one's soulmate is only natural.”

You nodded in understanding again while you fiddled with the water bottle, picking at the plastic labeling with your fingernails.

You weren't completely at ease then, Illumi determined. Despite what you had told him, there was something that was making you nervous, and he found himself thinking that perhaps it was him. You were the one who had said he was scary, after all.

It was a shame that you would lie and say the things you thought he wanted to hear, but once again he told himself that this was still better than what he had been expecting. Even if you weren't being truthful, you were being compliant, and that made things easier for him, as opening the connection for you would be less difficult if you weren't fighting him.

He wanted to talk with you more, learn more about you and get to know how you truly felt about all of this-

But as had now become a pattern, what you did next surprised him.

You leaned against him, the tension in your body slowly leaving while he felt the weight of your cheek resting on his shoulder.

Illumi blinked, looking down at you with his lips parted slightly as he felt a warmth blooming in his chest from the contact. Just as it had those times before, the feeling of you against him was strangely intoxicating. But unlike earlier, this time you were conscious for this moment, and not only that, you had been the one to initiate it.

He noted the way your eyes flitted about and how your expression grew in worry upon seeing his reaction. It seemed as though you were going to pull away.

He was fast to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you in closer.

You stiffened slightly, but eventually relaxed as you shifted to a more comfortable position, resting your head against him once again, though there was still a hint of that tension in you.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his voice low.

“….. It's a little scary that you could've killed me,” you told him.

“Ah, I suppose it was,” he admitted.

Illumi leaned back into the seat while continuing “it was the last thing I had ever expected. To think, that my client would hire me to kill my own soulmate. How are odds like that even possible?”

You stayed quiet after that, but when he glanced back down at you, he saw the gears in your head turning.

“…. Maybe you were supposed to get me as a target,” you then said.

“Of course I was supposed to; Farley hired me specifically,” he told you.

“No, I mean….”

You turned in your seat to face him fully, which came as an annoyance to him as you pulled away from him slightly. You then clarified “with us being soulmates, we were supposed to come together eventually, right? Maybe… Maybe my getting mixed up in that and you being hired was meant to be. Maybe if that hadn't happened, we never would have met. Like fate.”

Illumi blinked.

Then he gazed up while he grasped his chin thoughtfully as he considered your words.

“I hadn't thought of that,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“No. I was far too focused on getting out of the situation to consider that,” he admitted, “but with the unlikeliness of it all, that may very well be the only explanation.”

Illumi looked back to you, smiling as he said, “I think you're right.”

You smiled in response.

It was the second time you had done so, and once again, it was tinged, tainted somewhat, with that hint of fear. It confirmed to him that you were saying what you thought he wanted you to, making an effort to play nice with him. But even if your words had been born out of that, they rang more true than you thought.

You would come to that realization at a different time.

Illumi pulled you in again, and you didn't resist as he did so. With you comfortably resting against him once more, he found that he felt at peace. He finally had what he had been searching for – his illusive soulmate, brought to him under the most unexpected circumstances, but still sitting safely in his arms.

While you weren't as receptive to his words as you were portraying yourself to be, Illumi was certain that he could change that.

And he was certain that would take no time at all.

#reader insert #yandere x reader #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #illumi zoldyck #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader

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shurikensgang · 21 hours ago

Note

(For Valentine's Day)

"Aaaand, done," Ai said, holding an applicator and bottle of silicone tint.

Cassidy sighed. "Finally. I can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this."

Ai smirked and smugly said, "Iiiiiiiiii didn't have to do anything. You were happy to let me doll you up for Shuriken."

Cassidy's artificial blush was covered by a real one.

"I-I was most certainly not."

Ai's smirk only grew. "Suuure you weren't. You didn't fight me at all this time. Heheheh, if anything, it threw me off just how cooperative you were. I think I saw you smile as I did your wings." She giggled.

Cassidy grumbled before looking at herself in her bedroom's full body mirror, which Ai had begged her to get, even paying for part of it.

She was in her grey sleeveless dress, her legs in their heels transformation. Along with the usual brushing, her hair had been styled, the long black locks now just a bit wavy. Her visor displayed both of her red eyelights, each with a wing that was a tad bit more intricate and fancier than the usual ones Ai would draw, and her cheeks displayed a faded blush effect. Finally, her lips had been stained with a crimson silicone tint.

"I still feel like the red tint is a bit much," she said.

"Hey, T and Harlow both agreed with me on it being a good choice. And besides, this is a particularly romantic day, so if you're ever gonna get some use out of it, it makes sense to use it now."

"Whatever you say." She smiled at her younger sister. "Now are you done 'dolling me up' so I can leave?"

"Why do I feel like I should be offended in some way?" Ai shook it off. "Yeah, I'm done. I'd love to do more, but I can't hold you up."

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure Harlow left half an hour ago."

Ai stopped her sister. "Wait. Don't forget your purse."

A heavy sigh came from the older sister. She walked back to her desk and grabbed the purse sitting next to the sleeping Kobi's enclosure.

"I hope you have a great time, Cassie. Remember to give them to him."

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun at the festival."

The two sisters left the apartment and smiled at each other before heading their separate ways. Ai back to Door 1 to wait for Spectre to pick her up, and Cassidy to the gymnasium, where her first proper event in her new home was being held.

It was held in the gym. The lights were dimmed low and a bunch of drones were already there. The stage was dark, but it seemed to be getting prepped for something.

Cassidy would see the group hanging out at the now drinkable punch bowl.

Harlow was laughing with Brianna, who was wearing a nice light orange mini dress. Her hair was down and her eyes had wings on them. Abbey, who was wearing a strawberry coloured knee length dress was talking with Shuriken, who was wearing a grey tuxedo with a black tie. His hair was let down, with no beanie covering it.

Jonah was chatting with Maryam. He was wearing a maroon red tux with a navy tie, while Maryam was wearing a dark green tux-dress combo.

Brianna noticed Cassidy and smiled, beckoning her over.

#rp blog #hunting stars #hoooly that was a lot to type out

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ptej1980 · 2 days ago

Text

Warning ⛔️ warning ⛔️

Well it went from being quiet to ugh..to being super brilliant to are you kidding me WTF all in a space of two weeks.

Now….we have come to realise by now that in the Lukola universe there is a lot of highs and the occasional torpedo that try’s to upset the crew. We know that our lovely Nic with the help of her friends is quite the shit stirrer, chronically on line and sees all.

The People magazine article we know by now is completely ridiculous. It is the second time they have used hard launch and to justify it with a birthday post for a friend 😂🤣. It is laugh out loud funny when his other friends call him princess and say they love him and have him on there grid.

The other adjacent fun that came out today was Nic liking the “Boss” post that has twerk in it. We see you 👀 Nic. Luke did not even like it, but what he did do is like Nics post for Red Nose Day. And matching IG for Evan Ross Katz in a similar time frame.

Luke’s PR with the twerk seemed also to have the desired effect with her picking up campaign for BARLEY (it is a bridal lingerie not flattering) and YUV. (Hair stuff). So fingers crossed she will slither away.

Also if you think Nic was in LA the timing does not match. Not only did she say in the SAG interviews that they were still filming Bridgerton, but the IFTA is on Friday as well as the Bridgerton live stream. She also looks completely different from when she was in Paris so, yeah…but this is just IMO, if you have different thoughts, you do you

At the end of the day, we will continue to get misleading information because the Lukola family need Privacy atm. I get it, just like all of you I would love to see them together but it might not happen for a little while. Remember Nics management is CAA, same as Ryan Gosling, who helped conceal him and Eva. When they went public they were married with a baby.

Have a good day 😃

#lukola #shit stirrer

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munsonsmixtapes · 8 hours ago

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That's My Boy

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You, Eddie, and your daughter come over to the trailer to celebrate Wayne's birthday and give him the best gift he could ever ask for.

The trailer is quiet except for the jazz music that’s playing softly for some background noise and the simmering of the pot that Wayne is stirring. His guests are due any minute ands he’s hurrying to make sure everything is done before they show up. He pours the finished soup into the serving bowl that was part of the set that Eddie got him when he moves out then plates the grilled cheeses as nicely as he can, wanting them to look the best they can.

He sets everything on the table as he hears a car door slam closed, a bright grin spreading across his face as he sees a glimpse of the top of the familiar head through the storm door. He’s quick to wipe his hands on his apron just as the door flies open, a blur racing towards him in a fit of giggles.

“Gramps!” Lucy exclaims as he throws herself against his legs. Wayne’s quick to pick her up and give her a tight squeeze, feeling his heart swell as she gives him the energy back. He’s so engrossed in the moment that he only remembers that she’s not alone when he hears the front door close.

His eyes open and he sees his nephew and wife entering the house carrying git bags that Wayne made them swore that they wouldn’t. They’re wearing matching smiles as their eyes lock on the man and they make a beeline for him, pulling him into a group hug and Wayne’s never felt more loved than he does in the moment.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you give his shoulder a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Next time, you’re not making the meal. It’s not fair of us to expect you to cook on your special day.” You set down the gift bag you’re holding on the counter that’s beside you.

“I hardly call that cooking,” Wayne chuckles. “It was just heating up a couple cans of soup and making a few grilled cheeses.”

“Still,” you reply as you shake your head. “Next time, we’re hosting.”

“Yeah,” Eddie speaks up, wrapping his arm around his uncle’s shoulder. “We just upgraded the grill that’s out on the patio and I have to say, I make a mean burger but I did learn from the best,” he winks then hurries over to help you pull out your chair as soon as he sees that you’re trying to do it yourself. He then helps you sit as you smooth your shirt over your very obvious bump.

Wayne doesn’t think his heart could get any bigger and he has to fight tears from trailing down his cheeks as he watches the two of you, your wedding rings catching the light that’s hanging above the table. He then lets his eyes move over to his great niece who’s holding out an envelope to him that has his name scrawled in bright red crayon.

“Can I open it after lunch?” He asks, but Lucy shakes her head vigorously.

“No, you have to open it now,” she demands and because she’s got the man wrapped around her tiny finger, he scoops her in his arms and the sit at the table as he opens the envelope, letting out a dramatic gasp as he looks at the little picture she’s drawn for him.

It’s the four of them and even though they look like little yellow blobs, it’s still very easy to make out who’s who. This is immediately going on the fridge that’s now cluttered with drawings just like it and holiday cards from your little family even before she was born.

“I love it, Luce,” he says as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll put it on the fridge after lunch, okay?” He asks and she nods with that smile that’s the perfect mix of yours and Eddie’s. He then sets her on her feet and lets her head over to the chair she’s always claimed as hers where Eddie is already standing, holding his arms out for her.

“Ready for liftoff?” He asks and she nods again.

“Ready, daddy,” she replies and he lifts her into the air, making all sorts of noises that are supposed to sound like a space ship as he lifts her into the air and sets her in her chair. She’s giggling so loudly and the sound is so infectious that the rest of you are laughing too.

Eddie then moves to his chair that’s across from hers, in between yours and Wayne’s. He scoots closer to you, his chair almost touching yours as he serves you some soup and a grilled cheese. He’s like this all the time, but especially when you’re pregnant. And it’s not because he thinks you’re incapable, it’s just that he loves to take care of you and you let him, loving being pampered.

Once you have your meal, he serves you some water then does the same for Lucy, making sure that she has her favorite plate and cup that Wayne makes sure is always clean just in case he needs to watch her for whatever reason. He always wants to make sure that his girl has what she needs.

“So, Luce,” Wayne speaks up. “You’re going to be a big sister soon. You gonna take good care of Theo?”

“Mhm,” she nods as she takes a sip of juice from her sippy cup then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Mommy said I can hold him in the hospital.”

“”And are you excited about that?”

“She won’t stop talking about it,” you laugh. “She’s already very protective of the little guy and he’s not even born yet. It’s that right, bug?” You turn to your daughter.

“That’s right, mommy. If anyone hurts him, I’m gonna kick their ass.” Wayne’s trying not to laugh, but he can’t help it, a cackle passing through his lips and as you glare at him for encouraging the coarse language, he’s quick to cover his mouth with his hand.

“I wonder where she learned that from.” You turn to glare at your husband and he’s quick to shrug, trying his best to act like he didn’t teach her. “Must’ve been the TV.”

“Mhm,” you nod, not convinced then turn back to Lucy. “Bug, we don’t say that word, do we?”

“No, mommy,” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, baby. Daddy just has a potty mouth, doesn’t he?”

“Daddy didn’t say it, it was uncle Gareth.” Now it all makes sense. Even after five years, the band is still having trouble censoring themselves around your daughter.

“I see. Well, I guess maybe soundcheck is off limits until the boys learn, hm?” And you hate doing that because she loves hearing her dad play when there’s no crowd, but you have to put your foot down.

“You’re really going to say no to that face?” Eddie points across the table to the face that’s a perfect mix of both of yours. She’s batting her eyelashes and you don’t even have to ask where she learned that trick from.

You turn to Eddie who’s doing the exact same thing and this time, it’s not going to get you. The kiss he’s pressing to your hand is not going to work and he knows that so he drops it.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But she’s coming to the show in New York next week, right? She can’t miss her daddy playing MSG.”

Wayne’s tearing up at the thought of his nephew selling out Madison Square Garden and now he’s fully crying, now being able to keep in his proud tears. He always knew Eddie could do it, but actually witnessing it, well, he’s never been prouder of his nephew.

“Of course she’s gonna be there, baby. Wayne too. I bought his plane ticket last night.”

“I think this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Wayne says as he wipes his tears away with a little sniffle and you stand up from the table, rounding it to give the man a much needed hug.

He’s been family to you for so many years now that you don’t even remember a time where he wasn’t in your life. He’s always given you everything you needed when he had nothing, whether it was a place to crash for the night or even just a TV dinner when you needed something to eat. He’s always provided for you and now it’s time to give back.

Wayne has been and will always be someone you will cherish, never taking him for granted and he knows that. He’s always been like a father figure to you and Eddie now that you have the money, you have him set for the rest of his life. He’s got everything he needs and it’s all in this very room, having lunch with him.

“Aww Wayne, you’re gonna make me cry,” you tell him as you pull him in for a hug then reach for the gift you got for him. He reluctantly takes the bag and pulls out the tissue paper, crying even harder when he sees what it is.

It’s a framed photo of a ticket to the very show you all were just talking about. He’s always bragging about his nephew to anyone who will listen and now he’s physical proof of his biggest accomplishment, showing Eddie that he could be whatever he wanted to be despite what all of the losers in Hawkins said. And he did it, the boy actually did it. And Wayne couldn’t be more proud.

“Come here, boy.” Wayne’s crying ever more now as he waves Eddie over, pulling him into a tight hug, tears shed by everyone but Lucy who’s still chewing on her grilled cheese. “You’re the best birthday gift,” he says. “You all are and I am grateful everyday for our little family.”

“Oh, Wayne, you’re always such a sap,” you laugh as you wipe away your own tears.

“And I have every right to because of how proud I am.”

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Eddie responds with a smile.

“That’s my boy,” Wayne claps Eddie on the back and the three of you clear the table of the lunch remnants.

Once the cake was eaten and the dishes all washed and dried, you, Eddie and Lucy, who was asleep in his arms, headed out the door, lingering there as you gave hugs and more well wishes to Wayne.

As the door was closed, he was left alone in the quiet again, already missing the three of you as he takes his gift and brings it into his room, setting it on his bedside table so he can fall asleep to it every night and wake up to it every morning, a reminder that he finally did something right.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #wayne munson

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novaursa · 2 days ago

Text

The Second Daughter (winds from the west)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: seeds of contempt

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The halls of the Red Keep were quieter at this hour, the usual bustle of courtiers and servants fading into a distant murmur. The soft padding of your footsteps, guided gently by Ser Lorent, echoed in the corridors as you approached the King’s chambers. You had requested to see your father alone, without the presence of the Queen or her father, without the weight of the court’s expectations pressing upon your shoulders.

Ser Lorent halted just outside the doors, his presence a quiet comfort. Even now, years later, he insisted on still walking by your side when you visited the Red Keep, as though your absence from court had changed nothing between you.

"You’ll be all right, princess?" he murmured, his voice tinged with quiet concern.

You smiled faintly, tilting your head toward him. "Yes, Ser Lorent. You have always been a faithful guard, but you need not worry over."

The knight exhaled softly before giving a small nod. He knocked twice, and from inside, a hoarse but familiar voice called out.

"Come in."

The doors creaked as they opened, and you stepped inside, the warmth of the chamber enveloping you. The air smelled of burning incense, parchment, and aged wine, mingled with the faint scent of the oils used to soothe aching bones.

Your father sat near the fire, his once-great frame thinner now, though he still wore the richly embroidered robes of a king, the golden crown of House Targaryen resting atop his silvered hair. The firelight cast deep shadows along his aged face, accentuating the lines of time, the weight of years of rule and sorrow pressing down upon his shoulders.

"Come closer," Viserys murmured, and you obeyed, moving carefully toward him, your fingers grazing the back of an upholstered chair before reaching for his outstretched hand.

His palm was rougher than you remembered, the skin calloused from years of grasping the hilt of Blackfyre, from ruling a realm that had never been easy to rule. Yet when he curled his fingers around yours, his grip was still firm, still warm, the same as when you were a child, when he would hold your small hands in his after you stumbled in the gardens, whispering words of comfort and love.

"I missed you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed your voice."

Viserys exhaled heavily, his grip tightening just slightly, as though anchoring himself to you. "And I missed yours, my sweet girl," he rasped. "Every day since you left these halls… I have longed to hear it again."

You reached for his other hand, bringing it to your cheek, your fingers trailing over the ridges of his knuckles, the familiar touch grounding you. "I am here now."

He let out a shuddering breath, and it was only then that you noticed the slight tremor in his hands, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of emotions he had held back for too long.

Then, a soft sound reached your ears—not the clearing of his throat, nor the weary sigh of a man who had seen too much, but a quiet, broken sob.

You stiffened slightly. "Father?"

He did not answer at first, only shaking his head as his grip on you tightened, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

You did not need your sight to feel the tears trailing down his face, nor to understand why they fell.

Viserys Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, was weeping.

Not as a king burdened by the weight of rule, nor as a man struggling against the frailty of age—but as a father who had been separated from his child, a father who had missed the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her presence, the gentle way she would once sit at his feet and listen to his stories of Old Valyria, of kings and queens who had shaped the world before them.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, your fingers brushing against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that would never be spoken of beyond these walls.

"I never wanted you to leave," Viserys whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with grief, with years of regret.

You inhaled, your heart clenching. "I know."

"I should have—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I should have fought harder to keep you here."

Your lips trembled, but you forced a small smile. "You let me go because you knew I would be loved," you murmured. "Because you knew I would be happy, you said so."

Viserys shook his head again, his tears falling freely now. "I let you go because I was weak."

"Father—"

"Because I feared war," he continued, his voice cracking, his eyes burning with pain. "Because I feared what it would mean to deny the West a marriage they sought. And in my weakness, I let my precious girl—one of the last pieces of your mother—be taken from me."

Tears welled in your own sightless eyes, but you did not let them fall. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, the way he had once done when you were a child, when he had comforted you after your first fall from your black mare.

"You did not lose me," you whispered. "I am still yours, Father. Always."

Viserys let out a heavy sob, his body shaking beneath the weight of his sorrow.

And for a time, there was no king and no princess, no politics and no war, no concerns for the realm or the throne.

There was only a father and his daughter, reunited in the fragile space of a fleeting moment, where love transcended time, distance, and regret.

The small council chamber was quieter than usual, the absence of the other lords making the space feel more intimate, yet all the more tense. The thick, carved doors had been shut, the only ones present being Lord Jason Lannister, his twin brother Tyland, and Otto Hightower. The usual din of court politics was missing, replaced instead by the scratch of quills and the soft rustle of parchment as Jason leafed through the stack of documents that had been placed before him.

Otto sat across the table, his eyes unwavering, his posture pristine, controlled, even as the weight of Jason’s scrutiny bore down upon him. The Hand of the King was no fool—he knew why they were here, and he had come prepared to counter any challenge.

Tyland, seated beside Jason, drummed his fingers lazily against the armrest of his chair, his gaze flickering between the papers in Jason’s hands and Otto’s carefully neutral expression. There was an edge of amusement in his eyes, as if he were simply enjoying the spectacle, but Jason knew better—his twin was always calculating, always watching for weakness.

Jason exhaled slowly, setting the papers down before him. His golden lion’s ring tapped against the oak surface as he leaned back, his gaze focused, assessing.

"This," he began, his voice even, though laced with a hint of amusement, "is not justifiable spending, Lord Hightower."

Otto folded his hands neatly before him. "Her Grace is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," he said smoothly, with a tone of calculated patience. "Her station demands—"

Jason cut him off with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Her station demands governance, Lord Otto. Not vanities." He gestured toward the stack of papers. "Do explain to me why the Crown is spending thousands of dragons on exquisite gemstones, Myrish lace, embroidered silks, golden-threaded tapestries, and, of course, the famed emerald harp."

Tyland coughed lightly into his fist, though Jason knew it was only to hide his laughter.

Otto’s expression remained impassive, though Jason did not miss the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "The Queen must maintain the dignity of her role," he said. "To be seen as a symbol of strength and prosperity."

Jason scoffed. "Prosperity?" He leaned forward, his gaze dark with amusement. "Tell me, Lord Otto—does the Crown know the meaning of that word? Because if prosperity means indebting the realm to Lannisport's coin, then I fear we have wildly different interpretations."

Otto's lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not yet speak.

Jason allowed himself a brief pause, savoring the moment before he leaned back again, stretching lazily. "Perhaps," he mused, "there should be a pause on shipments from Lannisport. Let us see how the Crown fares without Lannister coin filling its coffers."

Tyland's smirk widened. He had been waiting for Jason to say it outright.

Otto, however, did not react immediately. He remained motionless, though Jason could see the tension forming along his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened subtly against the table’s edge.

"That would be… unwise," Otto said at last, choosing his words carefully.

Jason tilted his head. "Would it?"

Otto exhaled slowly, clasping his hands before him. "It would send a poor message to the lords of the realm. To deny the Queen her station—"

Jason let out a low, dark chuckle, the kind that sent ripples of discomfort through those who did not know him well enough. "A poor message, you say?" He spread his hands. "Tell me, Lord Otto, does my wife not deserve the same extravagance?"

Tyland ceased his lazy drumming, his amusement shifting to keen interest as Jason pressed further.

"The Queen is granted every luxury, every gem, every silk of the finest weave," Jason continued, his voice measured, deliberate. "And yet, my wife, a princess of the realm, is expected to live with far less?"

Otto did not answer immediately.

Jason smiled coldly. "Why is it, Lord Otto, that my wife—a Targaryen princess, daughter of the King himself—is not lavished in the same manner?" His voice dipped into mock curiosity, his fingers tapping against the parchment before him. "Does she not deserve rubies fit for a dragon’s daughter? Pearls from the Summer Isles? A crown of her own to match the Queen’s?"

Otto's silence stretched for a moment longer than it should have.

"You do not wish to answer," Jason mused, "so allow me to do it for you." He leaned forward once more, his tone dark and edged with steel. "Because you do not see her as worthy of it."

Otto stiffened, his calm veneer finally cracking ever so slightly.

Jason continued, his voice like a blade slowly pressing against exposed flesh. "You seek to elevate your daughter, to drown her in riches so that the world sees her as untouchable, undeniable—but my wife?" His green eyes burned. "My wife, the daughter of the King, you would see diminished."

Otto exhaled through his nose, gathering himself. "That is not—"

"It is," Jason interrupted, his voice cutting and sure. "And you will not succeed in it, Lord Hightower." He lifted the parchment once more, running his fingers over the excessive expenses listed before him. "The West does not exist to prop up the Queen’s vanities while the King’s own blood is expected to live in lesser means."

Otto’s jaw tightened, but Jason was not finished.

"So," he said, reclining once more, voice lighter, but no less dangerous, "perhaps I should send word to Lannisport, have them divert shipments elsewhere, just to see how well the Crown can manage without Lannister trade for a time."

Tyland let out a low whistle, amused. "Now that would be something to see."

Otto’s gaze flickered between them, his mind working rapidly, calculating how much of Jason’s threat was genuine and how much was posturing.

Jason merely waited, the silence stretching thick between them.

And then, finally, Otto Hightower let out a slow breath, his voice even, but reluctant.

"There will be… adjustments made," he said carefully. "A review of expenditures, to better balance the Crown’s needs."

Jason’s smile widened slightly, victorious.

"Good," he said simply, rolling the parchment up and setting it aside. "Now that we understand each other, let us see that these adjustments are made quickly. I should hate to think the Crown would dare disappoint its greatest benefactor."

Otto said nothing, but Jason saw the irritation in his eyes.

Tyland smirked, pushing back in his chair with a languid stretch. "A most productive meeting," he mused.

Jason merely chuckled. "Indeed."

The Red Keep’s gardens were a sanctuary of twisting vines and flowering terraces, a place where the stone walls of the castle seemed softer, where the scent of roses, daisies, and myrtle filled the air. The laughter of children rang through the open space, mingling with the rustling of leaves as the afternoon breeze swept through.

Jason Lannister strode through the courtyard with the confidence of a man who knew he belonged, his cloak shifting with his steps, his green eyes scanning the familiar pathways. He had been told his wife was here, and if there was one thing in this wretched capital that could soothe his mood after a grating conversation with Otto Hightower, it was her.

And, of course, his children.

He found you seated on a stone bench beneath the shade of an arbor, your delicate fingers brushing over the petals of a white rose, the embroidery in your lap momentarily forgotten. Beside you, Rhaenyra sat with all the poise of a woman who was born to command a throne, though her expression darkened ever so slightly when she spotted him approaching.

Jason smirked. So predictable.

A few feet away, Aemerys and Jacaerys tumbled through the grass, their laughter wild and untamed as they wrestled like two dragon hatchlings testing their strength. Nearby, Luke and the twin girls, Rhaelya and Alysera, were being fussed over by their nursemaids, the infants’ golden curls catching the sunlight as they cooed and stretched in their swaddled blankets.

Jason did not hesitate as he reached you, pressing a kiss to your temple, his hands resting on your shoulders before sliding down to cup yours gently.

"You always seem to find the most peaceful corners," he murmured, his lips lingering near your ear, his deep voice edged with warmth.

You smiled, tilting your face toward him slightly. "Perhaps because I enjoy the peace," you teased.

Jason chuckled, then turned his attention toward Rhaenyra, whose expression was tightly controlled.

"Princess," he greeted smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. "Have you seen Laenor? I have been searching for him, yet it seems he has vanished."

Rhaenyra made a grimace, exhaling through her nose. "He is most likely at the stables," she said dryly. "Or anywhere else that allows him to avoid responsibilities."

Jason laughed. "Can’t fault a man for that."

"You would say that," Rhaenyra muttered, rolling her eyes.

Jason grinned, letting the moment pass before turning his attention back to the children.

He watched as Aemerys managed to pin Jace down, laughing triumphantly before Jacaerys rolled them both over, sending them tumbling into the grass once more.

"My son is a natural," Jason mused, crossing his arms, a prideful gleam in his eyes.

Rhaenyra huffed. "Jace is just letting him win."

Jason smirked. "That’s a lie, and you know it." He gestured toward his twin daughters, who were nestled against their nursemaids, their tiny fingers curling and uncurling as they stared at the world with wide, lilac eyes. "And my girls—fierce little lions already. No doubt they’ll grow to be even sharper than their mother."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "You act as though they are ready to march into battle."

Jason turned to you with a wolfish grin, crouching slightly as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Not quite yet," he murmured, "but soon enough, I will have to keep the suitors at bay."

Rhaenyra scoffed, arching a brow. "Are you planning to collect children like a dragon hoards gold, Lannister?"

Jason smirked. "Perhaps," he mused, shifting so he could rest an arm along the back of the stone bench, fingers tracing slow circles against your shoulder. "In fact, I have been considering restructuring a wing of Casterly Rock entirely for them. A hall just for our children—large, open, filled with books, sparring grounds, a place where they will be raised as both lions and dragons."

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. "You’ve thought about this."

Jason exhaled, his green eyes softening as he glanced toward you. "Of course, I have," he murmured. "They deserve a space to grow—one that is theirs, where they are not simply heirs and daughters of lords, but free to be more."

Rhaenyra studied him carefully before raising a brow. "And how many children, exactly, do you plan on having, Lord Lannister?"

Jason grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "As many as she gives me," he said simply, nodding toward you.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. "Gods spare me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You say that now, sister," you teased, reaching for Rhaenyra’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, "but I suspect one day, you’ll find that having a home full of children is not so terrible."

Jason smirked, leaning in closer. "That, and you’ll be jealous when Aemerys’ sons best Jace’s in the tourney lists."

Rhaenyra shot him a glare, but you could hear the faint amusement hidden beneath it.

Jason settled beside you, satisfied, the weight of the day's politics fading into nothing as he sat amongst his family, his legacy, and the future he was building with you.

The balcony overlooking the royal gardens was shrouded in the fading light of the evening sun. Aegon leaned against the intricately carved railing, his fingers curling tightly around the edge, his knuckles pale from the pressure. His violet eyes, so often glazed with drunken mirth or boredom, were now sharp, fixated on the scene below.

His favorite sister, the one who had always cared for him, always seen him—she was laughing, her delicate features softened in contentment, her hand resting upon Jason Lannister’s arm as he whispered something only for her ears.

Aegon felt his jaw clench, his breath coming in short, shallow exhales as he watched Jason’s smug golden head dip close, his expression one of undisguised possession.

The bastard owned her.

His sister, the one who should have never left the Red Keep, the one who should have never been sent away—she was his, not by law, not by betrothal, but by the simple fact that she was his sister.

She should have stayed.

She should have never left him behind.

His fingers twitched as Jason pulled her close, brushing a stray curl from her face, his other hand gesturing toward their son, who was now wrestling with Jace in the grass like two lion cubs play-fighting for dominance.

Aegon could barely stomach it.

The sight of his nephew, the Lannister brat with Targaryen silver in his hair and the cursed pride of the West, made his stomach twist in ways he did not wish to analyze.

Aemerys should have been born in the Red Keep. He should have been raised in their halls, not under the watchful eyes of golden lions who thought themselves equals to dragons.

A quiet chuckle broke through his storming thoughts, and Aegon stiffened, tearing his gaze away from the garden below.

"Losing yourself in thought, prince?"

Aegon turned his head slowly, his violet eyes narrowing as Larys Strong stepped forward from the shadows of the balcony archway. The club-footed man moved with his usual unnerving grace, his twisted foot barely hindering his steps as he approached, hands clasped neatly before him.

"What do you want, Strong?" Aegon muttered, shifting slightly, his fingers relaxing against the railing.

Larys tilted his head, his expression one of feigned curiosity, though his eyes gleamed with something far more dangerous. "Merely to admire the view," he said, his gaze sweeping over the gardens below, his lips curling in mild amusement. "It is quite a sight, is it not?"

Aegon scowled. "It is a disgrace."

Larys hummed, leaning slightly against the railing, his hands folded against the polished stone, eyes never leaving the garden scene below. "Some might see it as a triumph," he mused. "A union that has fortified the bonds between two powerful houses."

Aegon’s grip tightened once more. "A Lannister should not have been given her."

Larys exhaled in a way that was neither agreement nor dismissal, merely a breath meant to allow the words to hang between them, to give Aegon space to fill the silence himself.

And he did.

"He has taken her away from me," Aegon muttered, his voice low, his expression dark. "And now he parades her before us, showing off his children, his claim, as though he has every right."

Larys finally turned his head, his eyes half-lidded, unreadable. "And do you believe he does not?"

Aegon scoffed, pushing off the railing. "I know he does not." His lips curled in distaste. "He was always a braggart, a fool with more arrogance than sense."

"And yet," Larys mused, "he holds her heart, does he not?"

Aegon went rigid, his expression flickering into something dangerously close to hurt, before he masked it with another scoff. "She is his wife, nothing more."

Larys tilted his head. "And yet she smiles for him." His fingers drummed lightly against the railing. "She bears his children."

Aegon’s teeth clenched, his nails biting into his palms.

Larys continued, his voice low and knowing, like a whisperer in the dark. "Tell me, my prince… why does that bother you so?"

Aegon glared, turning his full attention on the man beside him. "You already know."

Larys did not deny it. Instead, he merely let out a soft, almost mocking sigh. "Aegon," he murmured, "you are a prince. You are your father's firstborn son. And yet, it seems to me… that you resent her departure more than you resent being denied the throne."

Aegon flinched, and that was all the answer Larys needed.

A slow smile curled at the corner of the Lord Confessor’s lips, his mind already weaving the possibilities.

"It is a tragic thing," he continued, voice like silk against a blade, "to feel abandoned. To be left behind as another builds a new life without you."

Aegon turned back to the garden, his jaw set, his chest tight with emotion he did not want to name.

Larys followed his gaze, watching as Jason tucked a pale strand of hair behind his wife’s ear, as he leaned in to murmur something that made her smile, as their children laughed and played in the garden of their ancestors.

"You were once her favorite, were you not?" Larys murmured, almost lazily.

Aegon’s hands curled into fists.

Larys let the silence stretch again, then exhaled.

"Perhaps," he mused, lightly stepping away from the railing, "not all is lost."

Aegon turned toward him. "What do you mean?"

Larys only smiled.

"Enjoy your evening, my prince," he murmured, offering a small, knowing bow, before stepping back into the shadows, leaving Aegon alone with his anger.

And the quiet whisper of possibilities.

The Tower of the Hand was silent, its thick stone walls shielding its inhabitants from the bustling corridors of the Red Keep. A heavy scent of parchment, ink, and wax filled the air, mingling with the faint smoke of a dying candle on the Hand’s writing desk. The chamber was sparsely decorated—practical, cold, a reflection of the man who occupied it.

Alicent Hightower sat in a high-backed chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression carefully composed despite the tension in her shoulders. Across from her, Otto Hightower, her father, stood beside a tall window, his gaze fixed on the view beyond—the Red Keep’s walls stretching into the horizon, the distant Blackwater reflecting the fading light of the setting sun.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

The air between them was weighted with unspoken thoughts, the kind that neither dared voice until they were sure they were alone.

At last, Otto sighed, his hands clasping behind his back as he turned toward his daughter.

"We must speak of Lord Lannister."

Alicent inhaled slowly, her expression barely shifting. "He has done nothing but what was expected," she said evenly. "He has come with his family, paid his respects, attended council as was his right."

Otto’s gaze sharpened. "He has done more than that, daughter," he corrected, his voice laced with the weight of calculation. "Jason Lannister is not a mere lord visiting court. He is measuring it."

Alicent remained silent, but Otto saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes.

"You saw what he did in the council," Otto continued, stepping toward the desk. "He questioned the Crown’s spending—openly, in front of Tyland, in front of me. He has halted shipments from Lannisport, Alicent." He let the words settle like a blade pressed against the skin, waiting to see how deep they would cut.

Alicent’s lips thinned. "You did not tell me that."

Otto exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing against the edge of the desk. "It was not the sort of thing I wished to discuss before the Queen’s feast."

Alicent’s hands clenched slightly in her lap. "And what did Viserys say to this?"

Otto scoffed. "Viserys was too distracted with his joy over his grandchildren to notice the implications of Jason’s move. But it is not Viserys that Jason means to challenge."

Alicent understood then, truly.

Jason had not simply halted shipments from Lannisport to inconvenience the Crown.

He had done so to test them.

To see what would happen when the flow of Lannister gold slowed, when the Crown was forced to reconsider its dependencies.

To see if House Hightower would bend first.

Alicent exhaled through her nose, standing from her chair. She paced toward the fireplace, staring into the low embers glowing against the stone hearth.

"He is too bold," she murmured, though there was no surprise in her voice.

Otto studied her carefully. "And yet, he has gained everything he wanted from this match." He leaned forward slightly. "Do you not see, daughter? We thought the West was contained—that his marriage to your husband’s daughter would bind his loyalties to the Crown. But in truth, it has only made him stronger."

Alicent’s jaw tightened, her hands folding beneath the loose sleeves of her gown. "Because of her."

"Yes," Otto confirmed. "Because through her, he is tied to Viserys, to Rhaenyra, to the future of this dynasty. And he is no fool—he knows it."

Alicent turned sharply to face him. "What would you have me do, Father?"

Otto tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Jason Lannister is not our enemy," he admitted, "but he is also not our ally. He is a man who sees opportunity where others see duty. And now, he holds the largest fleet in the realm, the richest mines in Westeros, and a Targaryen princess in his bed." Otto let the weight of his words settle before continuing. "That makes him dangerous."

Alicent studied him, her mind working through the implications. "You believe he means to rival us."

Otto nodded. "If not now, then soon. He has built a legacy upon a foundation of gold, dragons, and blood. And unlike your husband, unlike even Rhaenyra, he is not burdened by the weight of the Iron Throne. He is free to wield his influence as he pleases."

Alicent inhaled deeply, turning back toward the fire, her thoughts racing.

Jason Lannister was a lord, not a king—but power did not always rest upon the Iron Throne.

Sometimes, it was held in the vaults of the Rock. In the loyalty of soldiers, in the strength of a marriage, in the hearts of those who knew how to shape the world to their will.

She had dismissed Jason once. Underestimated him.

That had been a mistake.

Otto watched his daughter carefully. "We must be prepared, Alicent," he said finally, his voice low, edged with meaning. "For the day when Jason Lannister no longer plays at being simply a loyal vassal."

Alicent said nothing at first, her eyes fixed on the fire, the glow casting shadows along her face.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"Then let us hope," she murmured, "that his ambition does not outgrow his patience."

Otto exhaled, his fingers curling lightly over the desk.

"A lion’s patience," he said, "is often just another form of hunger."

#house of the dragon #hotd #fire and blood #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #house targaryen #house lannister #the second daughter #hotd jason #jason lannister #jason x reader #jason x you #jason x y/n

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batheir · 2 days ago

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"when you're nice, mhhhm, you're... really handsome. but i remembered. you weren't nice to me all day." helena pinches his arm, brows furrowing a little as she covers his mouth to keep him from belting anymore song lyrics. grunting when he squeezes her to death. "yeah, i guess so..." helena trails off about all the pep talk about harry; still hating the way he went about it, that she had to catch him on another girl's skin, pulling down on her bangs to bring herself some pain so she doesn't start crying, pressed into him as he continues to hug her. "thiss isn't blood, genius." pointing to her lips, brows creasing in offense. "this is pretty red lip stickk." wobbly slipping off the stool, collecting her makeup box and first aid kit, stumbling and swaying each way and that until she makes it to her car. dropping her belongings in the back, she comes stepping back out, closing the door and glancing over at alex. "tattoos??" at first thinking he's crazy, then she bursts out laughing, hand covering her mouth. laughing for the longest time before trailing over to take his hand, "O-KAY alex, let's get tattoos. let's seeee if you're being serious." she slurs. because she doesn't believe him yet, she's challenging him. "what do we get as matchy?"

“yeah,” alexander admits without an ounce of shame, as though forgetting about his relationship status was somehow the most natural and excusable thing ever. his heart’s slowed down to this pleasant, peaceful rhythm, a boyish smile adorns his lips, helena’s here with him… and everything’s right in the world again. who cares about sarah or poppy or harry? “wha’ ‘bout you? do you think i’m — am i handsome?” he wonders unabashedly, eyes playful with a coquettish gleam. unsure who she’s talking to, he, too, looks down at the counter. hands reaching for more napkins, cleaning the sticky spots. “mhm, you’s veryyyy… pretty woman! walkin’ down the street! you so pretty.” he belts out, strong arms curling around her petite frame, squeezing as she places her head on his shoulder.

“thass ‘cause he’s an im — imbee-cile! he don’ love you. he only wanna use ya f’r yer money... or yer name. he don’ care who helena wayne is. he wan’s a trophyyy wife… and a hare-um of bitchezz. did ya a favor with dat one. better now than once you got his kids.” alex sighs, shaking his head while refusing to let go of helena, holding her tightly to comfort her. but also because some part of his brain needs this, too. underneath all these giggles and jokes and hiccups, there’s a little boy who’s lost everything and just wants to feel loved again. in that sweet, unconditional way. “oh, oops!” letting go when she warns him about the sticklip, he does his best not to ruin her makeup. he can’t help but laugh when his gaze falls onto his sweater, pinkish and brownish stains adorning the soft fabric. “sticklip or blood?” he questions, brows briefly creasing but then he gets distracted again, clapping his hands and sliding off the bar stool.

“good idea! let’s go! let’s go to my place! i got… umm — TV! an’ cheetos! we could watch titanic!” he doesn’t even like titanic, but suddenly he’s a fan. strong arm curling around helena’s shoulders as he guides her towards the exit, a generous tip for the bartender left behind. stumbling out of the smoke-filled room, the cool night air hitting their faces, they lean on each other for balance. the world seems to be spinning, making every step feel like an adventure. that’s when alex spots something — a neon sign glowing tattoos! in bold letters, with 24/7 flashing underneath. he nudges helena, wide-eyed and excited, suggesting, “we should totally... like... get matching tattoos! ‘cause i ain’t ever leavin’ you, helena. i ain’t cheatin’ on you. you’s my bestest fren.” now this will prove his loyalty!

#4lexnilsen

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shesjustanothergeek · 2 days ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Ten: The Weight of the Crown

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's been a while, but I'm glad to be back. It's been about 3 months since I last updated (for those reading along with the uploads), so I recommend reading the last chapter as a quick refresh. Thank you for reading and your continuous support. Be sure to comment on how you're feeling after the end of this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. You'll understand why soon enough. Happy reading!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of miscarriage, sexism, angst, we're mentally ill folks.

The sea air clung to the rocks of Dragonstone as Gaelithox, carrying you from King’s Landing, flew into the sulfuric caverns of the Dragonmont, emerald wings beating. It was a bitter homecoming but a welcome one nonetheless. The constant rush of the clouds, the cold winter sky above, and the dark stone of the castle all felt familiar. Despite everything that had happened, Dragonstone was where you felt safest. The echoes of the storm that had just passed felt distant as you made your way toward the castle’s entrance, the weight of the journey lifting with every step.

It had been a turbulent time at the Red Keep. The petition against Luke’s claim to the Driftwood throne, the death of Vaemond Velaryon at Daemon’s hands, and the lingering tension still hung between your two families. The most unexpected event was the moment with Aemond within the darkness of your childhood chambers, feeling his touch, unsteady and desperate yet confident of its path. Despite all the turmoil in his arms, you felt a sense of peace that had long eluded you. The vulnerability in his gaze, the careful way he held you, and those memories clung to you; though you had not spoken of it, a quiet joy bloomed inside you.

Your family was only away for a day, but it felt like a moon. Dragonstone was your sanctuary, its halls frigid but comforting, its chambers filled with memories of the past. Yet, somehow, they felt different now. For better or worse, something had shifted.

As you entered the Hall of the Painted Table, you saw your family settling in after their return, and you were the last to take leave from King’s Landing. Your mother, the ever-gracious heir to the Iron Throne, spoke softly with Daemon, their conversation punctuated by brief smiles as she stroked her swelling stomach. Luke and Jace laughed in the corner, clearly relieved to be away from the tense atmosphere of the Red Keep as Baela and Rhaena stayed at their betrothed sides.

You offered Jace a forced smile, unable to hide how your heart stopped at seeing him next to your cousin. Perhaps Dragonstone was no longer a place of consistency that you remembered. That needn’t matter now; all that did was your future, which was no longer tied to Jace.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside you as your mind wandered. If your mother agreed, you would soon wed to Aemond. The thought of it sent a surge of hope through you, but the joy was not one you could share openly.

As you moved to join your family, Jace’s eyes found you immediately. His sharp gaze lingered on you with a curious intensity. His brow furrowed as he stepped toward you, and a glimmer of concern flickered across his face.

“You seem different,” Jace remarked, his voice low enough to keep the conversation private. “You were distraught last night, and now you’re practically floating. What happened?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Jace had always been perceptive; he was your twin and a part of your mind and soul. The last thing you wanted was to have him probing into your emotions. Still, you couldn’t lie outright.

“I am just glad to be home. It has been a long two days,” you sighed, offering Jace a smile that did not quite meet your eyes. “We all have our burdens, brother. Mine are not so heavy now.”

Jace’s gaze softened, but his eyes remained wary. “Is that all? You were…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words as your despair from last night echoed in his mind. “You seemed so unsettled.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain without revealing your secret. It was unlike you to withhold something significant from your twin, but you were uncertain if you wanted to tell him, knowing how Jace felt about Aemond. The truth was, you had not expected to feel this way after everything that happened. The hope you had harbored for so long that one day you could mend the broken promises had somehow become a noiseless reality. The thought of a life with Aemond, beyond the shadows of the courtly politics and grudges, filled you with joy, but it wasn’t something you could tell Jace.

“I am simply… finding peace with our mother’s decision,” you said, your voice vague but resolute, smoothing your wrinkled riding skirt. “Tis nothing to concern yourself with.”

Jace’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unconvinced, but he did not press further as Baela grabbed his attention. He gave a short nod and clapped a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Well, I am glad you have found some comfort. I love you, sister, and if you need anything-”

“I am fine,” you interrupted sternly, giving him a tight, reassuring smile that stretched your wind burnt cheeks.

As Jace walked away, still looking back over his shoulder with a knowing frown, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You hated lying to him, especially when you could see the concern written across his face, but something inside told you this happiness was yours to keep for now, at least until the time was right.

You looked across the mixed waters of Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea through the high, arching windows, savoring the silent joy you felt. You knew that whatever came next, whatever trivial battles you would have to face with this decision, whatever challenges would arise, this moment was yours alone. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that, perhaps, this was the beginning of something pure.

The sun shone in a wash of molten gold as your mother leaned back in her study chair, the weight of her unseen crown seemingly heavier than usual after all that unfolded in King’s Landing. Her blonde hair gleamed in the warm light, strands catching like spun silver webs against the intricate embroidery of her black and red gown. You tentatively approached your mother as she poured over her writing desk, deep in thought, and stood before her, heart hammering in your chest, struggling to form words.

“Mother,” you began hesitantly, your voice wavering.

Your mother looked up from the pieces of parchment strewn about the oak top, her gaze light as she noticed your fidgeting fingers.

“I must tell you something before you return to King’s Landing.” You had battled with telling her of the proposal since Queen Alicent discussed it, scratching your scalp until it was tender and raw.

Like yours, yet so different, your mother’s sharp eyes squinted, filled with curiosity and faint weariness as she raised a light-colored brow. You could sense her anxiety slowly pique at your statement, but she hid it well, allowing you to continue.

“Go on,” she prompted, her tone gentle but carrying an unmistakable authority. You understood yesterday had taken as much of a toll on you as her with the light indigo crescents underneath her eyes.

Swallowing hard and clutching your hands to stop them from trembling, you inhaled deeply. It was best to finish it now, like ripping off a freshly healed scab. “Queen Alicent has requested that I accompany you to King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead wrinkled slightly, a flicker of suspicion darting across her face. “Oh?” She straightened in her chair. “And what reason might that be?”

“The Queen,” you said, your voice faltering as you twisted three fingers in your fist, attempting to channel your anxiety, “has proposed a betrothal between me and Prince Aemond.”

The silence followed was as heavy as the stones forming the Dragonmont itself. Your mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For a moment, you feared she might refuse outright, her pride and long-standing animosity with Alicent taking precedence.

“She thought this would help heal the divisions,” you hurriedly continued as if to justify the decision, taking a few hurried paces towards her. You felt like a child begging your parents to allow you to stay up past bedtime. “I agreed, and so did Prince Aemond.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, though a shadow of unease remained. She rose from her seat, ambling toward you, her hands clasped tightly. “You spoke with him, and he agreed?” she asked quietly. “Truly?”

You nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. “Queen Alicent came to me while packing my belongings and proposed the courtship. I was hesitant at first, knowing our history, but,” you paused, swallowing the abrupt lump in your throat, “I believe this to be the best course of action for our House.”

A faint sigh escaped her lips as she placed a hand on your shoulder. Rhaenyra remembered when she was in a similar position, her father having arranged an engagement tour that ended with the threat of disinheritance and a loveless marriage. It would be better for you to choose your suitor, she decided. She did not want you to suffer the same fate.

“While I am not pleased that Alicent didn’t bring the matter to me first,” she began, voice terse and arms crossed as she sighed softly. “If this is what you desire, and if it will bring peace to our families, then so be it, but understand this partly stems from my fear of how Alicent might react if I refuse. The path of political marriages and alliances is best traveled with our minds and not our hearts.” Your mother’s angular face displayed a profound sense of intensity, one you had never seen before, as her lithe fingers tenderly stroked the crown of your loose hair.

“We must tread carefully, my brave girl.” Her words carried devotion and caution, and while her agreement brought relief, the tension in your chest refused to dissipate entirely.

“Rest now. We shall return to the Keep with the good news on the morrow,” your mother ordered, her voice softening as she cupped your face briefly. “We have a long journey ahead of us, and you’ll need your strength.”

You nodded obediently and left her chamber with a flutter in your ribs, unable to hide your smile. Sleep eluded you as you tucked yourself under the soft covers of your bed. Your mind raced with thoughts of Aemond—of his piercing violet eye, the quiet intensity of his presence as you felt the textured warmth of the scar on his cheek. The idea of him lying in these elegant blue sheets with you stirred something thrilling yet terrifying within you.

Finally, unable to bear the restless energy that gnawed at you, you rose with a swift flick of your covers and slipped out into Aegon’s Garden.

The sun hung halfway on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the sprawling palace gardens. The gentle, melodic symphony of the ocean’s crashing waves flitted through the air as you knelt amidst rows of once-lush vegetables, fruits, and flora. This patch of dirt was your sanctuary, a plot you tended not for the court’s tables but for the smallfolk who occasionally relied on its yield.

Sod clung to your fingers as you dug into the soil, feeling its cold, gritty texture. A faint smile graced your lips as you recalled the baker’s son’s joy when you handed him a basket of potatoes from the prior harvest. However, your family did not share the same sentiment, scolding you for being unguarded with the smallfolk.

The garden around you continued to buzz with the beginnings of life as you fell into a calm rhythm. A gentle breeze carried the sweet aroma of the crocus blossoms. Winter was almost ending, and you needed to ensure the ground was ready for spring. Still, you could only focus on the excited feeling in your gut.

In an instant, your serenity was torn apart by the swift swish of skirts and the panicked voice of your handmaiden, Edwina. Her breathless urgency sliced through the calm, each word tumbling out in a rush as if the very air around her crackled with unease.

“My Lady Velaryon!” Edwina’s voice quivered a fragile sound that echoed in your chest.

As you looked up, your heart plummeted at the focused image of your maid standing before you. Her eyes, usually bright and full of warmth, were now wide with distress and glistening with unshed tears.

“What is it, Edwina?” you inquired, brows furrowed, and your voice tinged with concern. Hurriedly rising to your feet, the soft, loamy scent of freshly turned dirt from the garden still clung to your clothes and mingled with your faint citrus perfume.

“Your mother,” Edwina stammered, clutching her skirt as though trying to steady herself. “She… she’s in labor.”

You felt the world tilt, a disconcerting sway that threatened to pull you off balance. It was far too early for the babe, mere months into its fragile journey. Fear knotted in your stomach as you took in the reality of the situation. With each heavy breath, your fist gripped the wooden handle of your trowel, feeling the rough grain beneath your fingertips. You held it tightly as though it was the only solid thing in the chaotic swirl of your thoughts.

“Where is she? I must-” you began, a frantic pounding in your chest, but Edwina’s trembling voice cut through.

“There’s more,” she whispered, as though speaking it aloud would make it more true. “The king, your grandfather…” she couldn’t get the words out, breathes coming in pants. “King Viserys is dead, and they’ve crowned Aegon in your mother’s stead.”

Time seemed to slow as the words echoed in your mind, clashing and overlapping like waves against jagged rocks.

Dead.

Grandfather, the man who barely held the family together, a monarch who, despite his flaws, had been a steady presence in your life, was gone. You knew it was inevitable with the state he was in, but so soon after you left King’s Landing? It made your heart sink into the cold dirt below. And your mother… your mother was losing the child who might have softened the blow of this loss.

Your mind raced with thousands of thoughts as the future was overturned. You should have known this happiness was just another farce, that your existence was meant to be one of turmoil and suffering. Perhaps you were not destined or deserving to experience a fraction of the happiness others around you possessed because of your inherently sinful nature, what happened with Aegon, and what you did with Jace.

Breath hastening, you quickly withheld the tears you desperately wanted to shed. “How?” you managed to choke out, voice hoarse. “How did he die?”

It did not matter how your grandfather died. The answer wouldn’t change the outcome. Still, you wanted to know, to have the weight lifted off your conscience for not being there in his final moments.

Edwina hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground as though searching for the courage to speak. “They say… they say it was in his sleep, but there are whispers, your highness. Whispers of treachery. The Queen was the last to see him in his chambers and said he wished for Aegon to be king.”

The confession struck you like a blade. Treachery and lies, the court was rife with ambition and deceit. You had grown up amidst its murky depths, but to imagine someone close, your kin, being a victim was unbearable. Your fingers curled into fists, the dirt beneath your nails now a stark reminder of the life you had just been cultivating. Life and death intertwined in cruel, unrelenting cycles.

“I have to go,” you blurted, your tone turning to steel despite the tempest of emotions roiling within you. Brushing past Edwina, your mind raced with grief, fear, and fury, but as you stepped onto the stone path leading to the castle, you paused, returning your gaze to the garden.

The rows of upturned dirt seemed almost mocking in their stillness, a sharp contrast to the chaos consuming your world. A thought flickered through your mind. What would become of the realm? Innocents would perish because Alicent, Otto Hightower, and whatever gluttonous lords decided to place their kin on the throne.

With your grandfather gone and your mother’s precarious position as the true ruler falling into position, it was your duty to step into your rightful place in the line of succession as her heir. You would display the fruits of your studies and handle this uncertain path with an intelligence and dignity worthy of being the rightful queen’s heir. To the whole realm, you would prove to the Great Houses that your blood House Targaryen, ruled by women, was one of unimpeachable strength and wisdom.

You swallowed hard, setting your jaw as your mind calmed. This was not the time for rash decisions filled with emotions. People like you could not afford such luxuries when others’ lives were at stake. There would be a time to grieve, but not now and not in front of others.

“Tell the groundskeepers to send someone to tend to the garden. I fear I won’t be able to for some time,” you instructed Edwina with a stern nod. “The smallfolk must not suffer because of the Hightowers’ greed.”

And with that, you strode toward the castle, heart-shattering with every step. Yet amidst the grief and uncertainty, a seed of resolve took root. If your mother was still breathing and at least some of the Great Houses remembered their oaths, you would ensure the world did not crumble beneath your kin’s feet.

While war was imminent, you could still attempt to salvage alliances and oaths before bloodshed. Part of you hoped that, somehow, the brief future that you envisioned with Aemond was not a fantasy but an end to a long and bloody path ahead.

Screams were heard throughout the halls, servants and maids averting their gaze from you as if they were looking upon the Stranger as they instinctively bowed in their red garbs. The tension in the air was palpable as you hurried to your mother’s chamber, thick skirts in your fists. You could hear her ladies before you entered, voices taught with terror and encouragement as they begged your mother to allow them to help her.

Entering without proper announcement, you swiftly approached your mother, crouched beside her bed, face buried between her legs. Blood stained her once pristine smock in an ombre of crimson and pink, tears of empathy welling in your eyes as you kneeled beside her.

“I’m here, Mother,” you announced, trying to comfort her and not invade her space. She lifted her head from where it was focused on the bloodiest part of her dress, covering what you knew hid beneath it.

She seemed at war with wanting to push you away while also craving the comfort her eldest daughter brought. Rhaenyra knew there was something different about this birth, more than the apparent premature arrival. It hurt differently than her previous ones, a pain so unusual to her body that it felt as if she was passing a beast instead of a child as another contraction seized her muscles. Her father and her throne were stolen from her within seconds, and now her child. Rhaenyra could never imagine such a fate.

“Your grandsire is dead,” your mother declared through gritted teeth, nails digging into her thigh to distract from the pain as she stared at the ceiling. “And Aegon sits on the throne.”

“I know, Mama, I know. I’m here for you, not to scheme. To do my duty as your daughter and help you through this,” you confessed with a sob, tears finally falling free and blinding your vision as you wiped at the sweat glistening on her brow. “You are strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for, mother. I’ve watched you politic and navigate the courts and come standing with your pride. You have just come from securing Luke’s inheritance. Your father, who had not been seen sitting on the Iron Throne for years, did so for you.”

It hurt to see her in such a state that you could not help but let your heart speak. Your proud, fierce mother, who dealt with slimy lords and deceitful ladies with unwavering grace, was now forced to fight another battle, one against her own body, where words could not protect her.

Love shone through the discomfort in her amethyst eyes as your encouraging words momentarily distracted her. “Where is Daemon?” She asked her lady-in-waiting, Elinda, who shared the same puffy, distraught visage you did.

You took this opportunity to take the clean linens from one of the helpless maids and a basin of fresh water, returning to your mother’s side.

“He’s gathered the council members, your highness,” she answered, an anxious wrinkle on her forehead.

Another wave of pain passed through Rhaenyra at the thought of her husband plotting his war in his grief, abandoning his wife in her desperate time of need. There was no telling what Daemon would do in his madness.

Anger erupted in your veins as you soaked a rag in the cool water and placed it on the back of your mother’s neck. You should not have felt pleased for her to see the man Daemon was in this way, but you knew he would do this. It was in his character, though you wished he would have revealed himself more opportunistically.

“I will fetch him for you, Mother,” you offered sternly, but she waved away the idea.

Your mother grunted with exertion as she pushed herself up, using your arm for support as she paced to one of the stone pillars streaming the yellow daylight into the room.

“No,” she replied with a raspy tone, leaning against the structure with a groan. “I need you now, here with me.” The loss of her father was fresh, a slice to her bleeding heart.

When agony did not blind her, Rhaenyra’s mind wandered in her grief, thinking of what would happen in the following moments, days, and years. The realm was teetering on the brink of civil war, and it was only a matter of time before the scales tipped and the dragons danced.

She looked to you, her daughter, her only daughter, a girl still so young and kind despite experiencing the horrors of life that threatened to pull you into despair.

Rhaenyra knew in her soul that this child would not survive; it was only a matter of expelling it before it ended her, but you… you were alive. For how long, she wasn’t sure. The thought crept into her mind like the shiver of death’s hand, but right now, you were here with her, devoted and by her side, no matter how pained you to see your mother this way.

You didn’t leave your mother’s side, not even as she limped from one place to another, using you as your late grandsire did to his cane, wiping the sweat, blood, and birthing fluids that stained her porcelain skin. It felt as if your mother was in this gruesome cycle of sitting, standing, pacing, and squatting as she screamed for the child to leave her womb.

Rhaenyra thought of her mother as she so often did when it came to birth. She wondered if this was the terror Queen Aemma felt when she realized the babe would not go and that she was doomed. Rhaenyra didn’t want to die, even if it seemed like the world wanted her to. She would not allow this child to be the last of her if not for her living, breathing children who stared at her with concern as they entered her room to spite the traitors who were stealing her birthright.

Jace and Luke gazed at you and your mother as she doubled over with a bout of pain, quickly squatting as you wiped away a stream of viscous blood that ran down her leg.

“Mother!” Jace shouted in concern as they stopped at a distance, afraid and uncertain of his mother’s agony.

Your mother heavily panted as she tried to gain the energy to speak. “Your grandfather, King Viserys, is dead,” she exhaled through her teeth. “The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.”

Jace looked at you with wide eyes, understanding what this meant for you, him, and the realm. You gazed back with certainty, speaking without words. “What is to be done about it?” he questioned, ever the eager and dutiful son ready to protect his family.

“Nothing yet,” your mother declared as she gained the energy to continue her pacing cycle.

“And where is Daemon?” Jace interrogated again, anxious gaze flicking between you and your mother.

You led your mother to rest against your shoulder to distract and take some of the pressure off her contracting limbs as she inhaled a jagged breath. “Gone to madness,” she sniffled, nose buried into the crook of your neck, stroking her stomach. “Gone to plot his war.”

Your heart broke for her in every possible way, fracturing into tiny little pieces like a shattered mirror of loss, betrayal, and sadness across your slippered feet. Your mother did not deserve this. No one deserved the loss of a child—to have one thing after another stolen in such rapid succession with no one to support her. But you would. You would stay by your mother’s side as her heir and support her claim more steadfastly than any other because that was the right thing to do.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, not just as mother and daughter, but as a woman and girl. A bond that was unbreakable no matter how much it was twisted, bent, and weathered. She loved you. She made you into the woman you are today, one that would create a new order together.

Turning your tear-streaked face to your brother, you spoke without words, commanding him to deal with what you and your mother could not. He curtly nodded as Luke continued to stare with his wide brown eyes.

“Leave Daemon to me,” Jace declared and swiftly made his way to the exit, but your mother called out to him, lifting her head as she repeated.

“Jacaerys!”

She could not lose you. Not now, not in several moons’ time when war fully unleashes, and you ride into battle on dragonback. Rhaenyra understood she couldn’t stop her sons from riding as it was their duty as princes and men, but you were her daughter, and daughters did not go to war. At that moment, she decided she would never let you. Despite the hypocrisy that struck Princess Rhaenyra’s conscience, she could not allow you to be in a position that brought you so close to death.

With what little strength she had reserved, your mother separated herself from you as you attempted to reach out in concern. She need not burden herself more, at least not alone and with someone who truly loved her. Another wave of agony washed through your Queen Mother as you watched how her knees buckled, gritting her teeth through the pain as you hooked your arm under hers.

Her bleary violet eyes met yours, deep and holding thoughts inside them that you could not decipher as she tightened her mouth in pain, gaze now fixed on Jace.

“Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done by my command,” your mother declared, her voice unwavering.

Time seemed to stand, and Jace and Luke halted their movements abruptly as they stared at the two closest women in their lives with terrified confusion. You felt the life drain from your face, a bleeding heart leaping out of your chest and falling to the stone below.

She couldn’t mean that. She couldn’t. You were her heir. You were the firstborn, destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms just like her, no matter what others thought. You were to create a new order, a better and just kingdom that reigned in prosperity. This was what you spent your life preparing yourself for. Countless hours of studying history, politics, philosophy, and arithmetic were all meant to prepare you for the best monarch you could be. It was to prove to the Lords of the realm that women were too inferior, that they were too gentle of the heart to rule like a man were wrong.

And now, as you felt tears not of empathy rise, Rhaenyra Targaryen would prove all of them right.

“Mother, you can not mean that. I am your heir. The line of succession deems it so,” you stated indignantly, feeling your muscles weaken.

“I know, my sweet girl, but this is what needs to be done,” she explained, brows furrowing with another contraction as she gathered her words. “You are my daughter… my only daughter, and I cannot lose you to another man’s senseless actions. I know you and what you’ll do. You are not one to stand idly at the hands of injustice, and it shall get you killed.”

Your world was burning, and the dragons had yet to take the skies.

“I need your mind with me, by my side as my-” she beseeched, another contraction cutting her words short, “as my council.”

Your breath was stolen as she spoke, and you felt yourself deflate, your face falling and shoulders hunching. You dropped your arms and stepped away from your mother.

“You can not mean that, mother. You’re-you’re unwell. The stress of everything has consumed your mind. Do not make any decisions yet. Now is not a time of action. Wait until your body is in good health, and we can reconvene with your council,” you desperately ranted, emotions slowing welling inside of you as you felt yourself clawing your skin.

Your mother shook her head, wiping her sweat-dampened lips as she braced herself against the carved wooden footboard of her bed. “No. My decision is of sound mind and final. You will understand in time that this is what is best for you—for our House.”

You refused to accept that your mother would reduce you to nothing but another passed daughter, though you were more prepared and deserving than your younger brother, yet lacking only one unobtainable thing. Anger began to replace your defeat, boiling into a rage that spilled over into the venom of your words.

“You claim to be the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, yet you choose a younger son over the eldest daughter for your legacy. Do you not see your hypocrisy?” you exclaimed, hands waving with every sentence as Jace stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched. Sinkingly, you realized he would not refuse your mother’s decision. “You prove by your actions that the Greens are correct in naming Aegon as king. You claim to be the new rule but desire to be the exception.”

“My girl,” your mother began grunting as she reached for your embrace. Stepping away from her, you crossed your arms, refusing to offer her the comfort she needed when she disregarded yours. “My strong, brave girl, please do not hate me for this. I cannot handle your anger in my time of anguish.”

Fury crackled with a sinister fire in the hollow cavity of your chest, flames of vengeance licking at the edges of your soul. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you hurriedly brushed them away, desperate to regain some semblance of composure. Your mind was shrouded in a thick fog of rage, and the most treacherous thoughts, words you would never dare to entertain even in your bleakest moments, surged forth, threatening to consume you entirely.

“If you do not want me, perhaps I should return to King’s Landing and bend the knee to my Uncle? I know Alicent would appreciate my value more than my flesh and blood,” you spat, nails digging crescents into your palms.

Your pain made you blind to all rational thoughts. The mere idea of bending the knee to Aegon was repulsive. No matter how distressed you felt, it was an image you couldn’t comprehend. You would instead take your own life than pledge allegiance to your rapist, but that wasn’t the main point. You wanted to hurt your mother in the same way she had hurt you.

“You would never,” she panted, clutching at her bloodied skirt. Your mother’s footing slipped as she fell against the stone floor, crying out in agony and gripping the footboard to channel her pain.

“No!” you cut her off, shaking your head. “You swore I would be your heir, yet you chose him!”

Jace looked at you in alarm, his face twisted with guilt. “Sister, this isn’t the time-”

“It is exactly the time!” you snapped, stepping back. Jace was just as much to blame, with no refusals for his new title. “I will not stay here and listen to these fallacies.”

Your heart hardened to a chilling frost at her rejection as you disregarded her pain. Though her labor would soon reach its climax, lasting only a few more agonizing hours, the humiliation of being eclipsed by your younger brother would trail you like a dark shadow for the rest of your days. She made you a victim, much like the plight she faced, yet unlike her, there would be no rallying cries or banners raised in your honor.

With a delicate sniffle and a sharp inhalation, you steadied your ragged breath, transforming into the dignified princess the realm demanded you be—the poised princess who sat silently behind the imposing castle walls, gazing wistfully out the grand window of your gilded prison.

Curtsying, you forced your lips to stretch into a thin smile, willing the hurt to disappear. “I pray your labors are swift and painless. I shall join the rest of the council members and sit and twiddle my thumbs as is your will, my Queen.”

With no more kindness left, you lifted your skirts, wiping the sweat and blood from your hands as you exited your mother’s bed chambers without a passing glance as she shouted your name. Jace stood there motionless, too stunned to speak, let alone force you to return to her as you strode by. You were still his eldest sibling and held that seniority despite the sudden thrust of a new title. He was not accustomed to giving orders, let alone to his older sister, who was the one who mothered him.

Throwing your brother a look over your shoulder that ordered him to follow you, you trekked down the torch-lit halls to the Council Chambers, where Daemon no doubt was, as your mother’s cries became nothing but muffled noise. Your anger had created a wall around your heart, shielding you from any sympathy for her pain. She certainly had no regard for yours.

“You need to stay with her,” Jace finally said, mouth syncing with his mind as he slightly jogged to catch up with your swift gait.

You flashed your twin a sneer in response and flicked your hand in dismissal, continuing your path to Daemon as the sound of male voices grew louder. “I am not the heir. ’Tis not my duty to ensure the survival of the head of our House. I’m but a mere daughter.”

“Do not lose your heart simply because of your anger. It only proves why Mother chose me,” he antagonized, his frustration and pride getting the best of him.

Without thinking, you spun on him, pushing Jace against the jagged stone as you smacked him across his sharp cheek. “Don’t ever say that again! You will never be as good as me, Jacaerys!” you shouted, finally releasing the fury you held back. “She only chose you because I don’t possess a cock, not because you are a better fit. Don’t ever forget that.”

You were one soul, one mind, yet different bodies, and no one knew how to hurt someone better than their sibling. Jace had always felt inferior to you for as long as you could remember, no matter how you tried to help him. He never dedicated himself to his studies as much as you did, preferring more to play a pretend knight with Luke. It wasn’t his fault for the skewed priorities; he, too, was under the assumption that you were going to be queen. There was no pertinent reason to impress his studies at the time before yours.

Turning away from Jace, you continued on your path, your conscious an unfeeling stone as you scratched at the hair uncomfortably lying on your scalp. You wanted to claw yourself out of your skin—rip the flesh right off your limbs until there was nothing left but bones. All you wanted was to feel the pain sear your nerves like the hurt you felt on the inside.

“I’ll fly to the Riverlands myself and affirm Lord Tully’s support,” Daemon’s voice echoed through the halls as you and your twin entered the chamber unannounced.

The Rogue Prince stood imposingly; your mother’s most trusted advisors circled a table map with tense expressions.

“You will do no such thing,” Jace interjected, shoulders squared as he feigned confidence. “My mother has decreed no action be taken while she’s abed.”

Your stepfather gazed at you under his light brows, purple orbs shifting to Jace and back to you. He seemingly questioned without words as to why your twin was speaking instead of you. His time-worn visage wrinkled in defiance as silence stretched longer than necessary, ignoring Jace. “It’s good you’re here, my young prince. You’re needed to patrol the skies on your dragon.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Jace questioned as he stepped forth. Each Lord standing around the dimly lit Chamber of the Painted Table stared noiselessly, tense eyes sharing worried glances.

“Patrol the skies, my prince. The heir and I must discuss matters of the realm,” Daemon responded. You did not meet his stare as another fresh wave of tears burned your nose and twitched your lips.

It seemed as if time stood still as your shame was laid bare before the ruling Lords, chin trembling with hurt and embarrassment. The quiet pierced through your gut like a blade, twisting it inside your organs as the men continued their noiseless stares. You felt their confusion soon morphed into pity as Jace stood with his back ramrod straight, only confirming their conclusions when you refused to speak.

“The ravens, Lord Bartimos,” Daemon reminded as your twin wordlessly asked you for assistance. Your mother made her choice, and it was Jace’s responsibility to bear it as you would have.

Suddenly, your mother’s scream cut through the Lord’s hesitance as his weathered gaze flicked from Jace, you, and Daemon. “I shall see it done,” he nodded, leaving. It was fruitless to argue with the Rogue Prince.

“Summon Ser Steffon. Our kingsguard are needed on the Dragonmont,” your stepfather commanded next as you observed him effortlessly ignore your brother and, by extension, your mother. It took everything within you not to smirk as Jace pleaded for you to back his standing. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the true meaning of loyalty,” Daemon ordered without a glance at you or Jace, walking briskly between the two of you with his palm on the hilt of Dark Sister.

He left no room for discussion, his imposing aura exuding an air of confidence that only a man like him could have. Your interest in what Daemon could be conjuring up inside his mind as a display of “true loyalty” guided your movements as you followed him, not bothering to see if Jace was too.

Your stepfather guided you through the dim halls of your home and onto the rocky cliffs of Dragonstone, the wind whipping your hair as you stood beside him. Jace was close behind, standing tensely at a distance as his face betrayed a perplexed annoyance before the two Kingsguards.

The air was cold, causing gooseflesh to rise on your arms as Daemon began to speak. “You swore an oath as knights of the Kingsguard,” he stated, one hand behind his back and the other on his sword.

“As do all who wear the white cloak, my prince,” Ser Steffon Darklyn replied, his silver helmet tucked underneath his arm as he squinted in the gray afternoon sunlight.

“To whom?”

You cast a sidelong glance to Daemon, curious about where this was going. Ser Steffon and Lorent Marband were loyal men, Ser Darklyn primarily as he and his ancestors served your House steadfastly. You supposed it wasn’t unwise of Daemon to ensure that the very men who protected you did not turn cloaks, but it did feel a little excessive to make a grand display for you and Jace.

“I swore first to King Jahaerys, my prince, and then to His Grace, King Viserys, when he succeeded him,” Ser Steffon answered confidently, showing no effect on Daemon’s intimidation.

“Do you acknowledge the true line of succession?” the Rogue Prince interrogated. Both the knights agreed in unison as Daemon made eye contact with you and then Jace, showing pride that only he could possess as your brother glared at him.

You felt a sympathetic understanding radiating from your stepfather that you had never seen displayed before. His violet eyes flicked back to you, strands of hair coming loose from your updo as he placed a wordless hand on your shoulder. It took everything within you not to smack his hand away, understanding the importance of showing a powerful united front. Just because you shared the same fate, another disregarded victim in the line of succession, did not mean your hatred of him lessened.

He breathed in through his nose, attention back to the pair of Kingsguard. “Do you recall whom King Viserys named heir before his death?”

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Ser Steffon answered as Daemon replied with a low sound.

“I’m grateful for your lifelong service to the crown. I’m presenting you with a choice,” Daemon confessed, voicing a soft timbre that made your hair stand on end.

The ground beneath you began to shake, pebbles rolling over the top of your head as the screech of a dragon roared above you. The lithe form of the Blood Wyrm came forth as he snarled and bared his arm-length fangs. Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent Marbrand flinched in fear as Caraxes low rumble vibrated your chest, enormous head coming so close you could smell the dragon and heat radiating from his scales.

“Swear your oath to Rhaenyra as your queen,” Daemon began, briefly looking at you as he sighed deeply. It seemed his following words pained him to say aloud. “To Prince Jacaerys as heir to the Iron Throne. Or if you support the usurper, speak it now, and you will have a clean and honorable death. But if you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to turn your cloaks later… know that you will die screaming.”

This was power… this was what your mother barred you from, and you would never forgive her for it.

Smoke swirled through the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a shroud and making each breath a struggle. You stood frozen, watching the flames hungrily devour a small fabric bundle no more significant than your forearm, its colors muted and shadows flickering in the firelight. Your family stood by in solemn silence, each person lost in their thoughts, the weight of their grief palpable in the heavy, overcast atmosphere.

The tiny form of your baby sister lay on the makeshift funeral pyre, occupying barely a quarter of the space on the slab. She was so small, so delicate, that it felt wrong, almost surreal, to see her there amidst the crackling flames as the waves of Dragonstone crashed against the rocks.

The maids remarked that Visenya was more monster than human as they exchanged disappointed glances in your direction. Scales lined her back, resembling those of a dragon. This sight reminded you of the ancient texts you had studied about your ancestors, which spoke of stillbirths, not of human origins, every few generations.

Occasionally, these texts mentioned unusual traits, such as over-calloused skin on certain parts of the infant’s body or the unexpected discovery of a tail akin to that of a snake. However, they often dismissed these occurrences as mere medical anomalies. You had not heard of such conditions affecting other women; they seemed exclusive to those of full-blooded Targaryen descent.

Your family prided themselves on their dragon blood, and perhaps, you thought, it wasn’t such an expression but a piece of their essence woven into your heritage millennia ago. Dragons were too powerful for even that of Targaryens.

This day would forever be etched in the annals of your family’s history, a day marked by sorrow and despair that would cast a long shadow over the years. The echoes of grief would resonate throughout the realm as the weight of this tragedy burdened not only your loved ones but the people you resided with.

Jace instinctively leaned on you for reassurance when feeling the same sadness and dread as the rest of you. It was part of your shared nature to seek solace in one another, but something inside you had broken. Your deep-seated love for your twin had fractured under the weight of greed, death, and duty, leaving you despondent to his affections.

Gently moving Jace away from your body, you slinked to the other side of your family where Rhaenys stood. A woman who held such distaste for you was more comforting than the brother you shared the womb with. He had Baela now to hear his worries and dry his tears, and you… had no one. No longer your twin and no longer Aemond. It was your destiny to be aggrieved.

You suppose you were the only one the Seven saw fit to handle such agony repeatedly, meant to bend and stretch but never break, though you felt moments away from it.

One by one, heads turned to something you could not see behind you, but you didn’t care, stares trained forward to where your little sister’s body smoldered. Suddenly, a Kingsguard you didn’t recognize came into view. A brown satchel slung over his shoulder, and he continued to walk atop the grassy hill to where your mother and Daemon were. Your mother’s guards quickly readied their swords, blocking the knight from getting closer.

“I mean you no harm, brothers,” the man said, removing his helmet as the men hesitantly lowered their blades.

They allowed him to continue, taking the bag from his shoulder. He kneeled before your mother and revealed the item he carried—the golden crown of her father and the Old King Jaehaerys. The metal glimmered with a history of power and legacy, and the knight swore an oath before your mother, who gazed at the unexpected gift with wide, astonished eyes.

“I swear to ward the queen with all my strength, to give my life for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

His sincere vows resonated within you, expressing a devotion you could only dream of. This man risked his life and traveled across the water to ensure that your mother received the crown that belonged to her father and grandfather. With unwavering resolve, he pledged his life to her service, his words a promise steeped in loyalty and love.

If he made it, could Aemond?

Reality shattered your fleeting hope, scattering it like feathers. Even if he had been allowed to escape and pursue the proposal, deep down, you understood that his loyalty, much like your own, would remain immutable, unmoved by the wistful echoes of childhood dreams of love.

Daemon took the crown from the knight, gazing at it and contemplating its significance and the power it would bring. He turned to your mother, and they shared a moment you couldn’t perceive from your distance. He placed the crown atop her silver hair while the wind gently caressed her loose strands as Daemon knelt before her. The crowd followed suit, with every court member, guard, brother, and cousin bowing before their Queen. The scene before you showcased the power your mother would now wield, which she rightfully deserved over the entire realm if not for the Greens, her piercing amethyst eyes locking onto yours.

You wished to show her your wrath, refusing to bow despite the sternness in her face. The crown emboldened her as she refused to move her gaze away from yours. As you stared longer, vision traveling to that of your stepfather, you realized that no matter what outrage you held, no matter how unfair and hypocritical she was, she was still your mother.

And you still loved her.

The ground was cold and damp beneath your navy dress, so swarthy it seemed black as you knelt, your funeral veil covering your cold cheeks. With your mother at the helm, there was still hope for a future with little bloodshed. Your love was strong; despite everything, you would give your life for hers if the situation arose. Yet still, you would never forget her decision or forgive her as the sun set over the sea.

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Sooooo... how are we feeling after this? Did you see that plot twist, or were you surprised by Rhaenyra's actions? I grappled with whether this would be out of Rhaenyra's character. Still, in my head, based on how she treated Rhaena and Jace in season 2, I believe Rhaenyra would pass over her daughter, especially after losing her only girl.

I understand the reasoning behind thinking she wouldn't choose a son over a daughter, but if you look back on season 1 and how she treated Alicent when she was married to Viserys (stuck inside a castle and forced to squeeze out heirs scene), you'll see how she doesn't realize the insensitivity of her words to Alicent. In my head, too, I believe Rhaenyra has "only child syndrome" with desiring to be the only "special one," even if it's subconscious. That's just my head cannon.

Thank you for reading!

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