#you’d know what I’d give to have my family at pride ?

[hellsbroadcaster]

I’m so over all the pride discourse. And it’s just very telling how people aren’t comfortable with themselves and that’s why they are having all these issues and want to gatekeep and be so exclusive to everyone.

Queers being the same kind of bullies that bully them. It’s just a cycle. You haven’t fully accepted yourself and that’s why you’re such a god damn hater.

And it’s fine if you haven’t fully accepted yourself. But when you put that shit on other people that’s a YOU problem. You can’t make the world happy. Ppl are gonna find whatever reason to hate you, to dislike you. You need to figure out if you’re going to continue to allow ppls shitty opinions decide how you feel.

What’s the point of pride ? Seriously. You’re there for you, for others like you. For the people who support ppl like you. It’s so dumb to hear all the hate from queers hating on other queers because they don’t like the labels they’re using and this and that. Worry about you??

Go to therapy. And start learning how to be kinder to yourself and love yourself because that shit starts with you. No one else. You.

It just makes me angry cuz it’s like we’ve learned absolutely nothing at all. Get over yourselves.

[sttoru]

𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

[coralinnii]

Hello Coral~~💖💖✨✨ Congrats on your 2.7k Milestone 💐🎂✨ Like many others, I love your villainess au and happy that many people is supporting it ✨✨ For the event request, I have some brain rots about Sebek Silver Malleus being in a friendly culture (maybe theyre visiting Yuu's hometown and its really welcoming like the people from Kalim's Hometown)!! they refer to them as like their family, gifts them foods the very moment they visited, and not bothered that theyre faes since they know theyre just creatures who protects nature~ i think its a nice culture shock for them considering how secluded and proper briar valley is ✨

‧₊˚✧ It Takes a Village‧₊˚✧ 

↳ Getting Culture Shock from Your Hometown

feat: Sebek ❋ Silver ❋ Malleus genre: fluff, note: no pronouns were used for reader, established relationships, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),

A lot of the scenarios are inspired and modeled after my experiences growing up, which is very Southeast Asia-coded. So, I apologise if this is not actually how you envision. Hope you still enjoy, though. 

similar post: Getting Culture Shock from your Friendly Family (Sebek, Silver, Malleus)

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

You’d be absolutely evil if you didn’t even try to warn your uptight boyfriend. I’d love you for that  

Sebek has finally found his match as his own voice gets drowned out by the boisterous market vendors and customers, but he’s more surprised by the forward way everyone seems to address each other. 

“Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m-” 

“Sebek, he’s not really my uncle. We call everyone that.” 

You would have to keep Sebek on tight hold because he’s a gullible green bean. The freshman burns in embarrassment at every “handsome boy” or “strong guy” comment calling out for his attention. He won’t lie, his ego is inflated quite a bit but it’s still strange to hear someone other than you call him that. 

On the other hand, he’s not too sure how to feel when vendors of all ages were calling out to you the same way. You may be used to it but Sebek isn’t, especially if he’s not used to calling you beautiful or cute himself yet. 

But, he could take this as a challenge to improve himself. For every compliment they give, he’ll give you tenfold. This he swears!

To your luck, it seems that the market the two of you were visiting was hosting a mini concert as music and lights filled a well-known open space near the market. 

Visitors and locals young and old surrounded the space, either resting while eating their confections or grooving to the catchy tune of the music blasting through the speakers. 

Then, a particularly famous song began to play, and Sebek flinched as the crowd suddenly burst in excited cheers and laughter, you included. Many women and men jumped to their feet, with some confidently running to the center of the space. You jumped to your feet as they did, but you chose to stand close to your confused boyfriend. 

Sebek’s expression was a comedic masterpiece as he watched you and many others start this synchronized sequence of silly movement, identical to the minor beat. Those who didn’t join were still clapping in unison while joyously laughing. 

What sort of local ritual was this? 

The synchronous dance was short lived, and soon people were divided into those who resumed their previous activity or continued swaying to the melody. 

You fell into the latter category, even reaching to Sebek hoping to persuade him to join you. 

Sebek was shocked and a little offended. He was a man of great honor and pride. He’d rather be caught dead than to devolve himself to this undignified manner of dance, if you could even call it so. No, he would never stoop so low, even if the string lights gave off this tempting glow around you, your soft hand still reaching out to him while you looked at him so lovingly… 

Well, the knight-in-training thought he could allow such exceptions once in a while, especially when you smiled so beautifully when he joined you on the dance floor. 

Don’t let Sebek know, but he became sort of a local online sensation as someone slyly took a video of him smiling so softly at you after putting on such a grumpy persona. 

Every reshare of this video was always paired with the caption, “Scary man turns into puppy for his lover”  

See, you can’t tell if your community is being especially friendly, or maybe it’s just that the beautiful young man next to you is just too irresistible to ignore. 

All the chatty aunties were cooing over Silver and even the laid-back uncles sitting around were praising the cut of Silver’s muscular figure. 

But, you won’t say anything because you just wanted Silver to smile and bask in the well-deserved praises. 

“The locals here are quite friendly to strangers like me, even offering small treats.” 

“Mhm, they sure are.” 

Silver is amazed by the seamless blend of close bonds and community from what he sees. Customers casually chatting with workers as children run around without worries in this homely environment. 

In comparison to them, Silver felt a little inadequate as he couldn’t express himself as openly as the locals do so easily. 

But maybe because they’re so open with everyone, he feels this sense of safety to try. 

“So you’re not from around here, are you?” The kind woman asked the silver-haired man as her fingers deftly package and wrap some snacks you two picked out to share with others back in NRC. 

“No, I’m actually from Briar Valley.” 

“Hmm, that’s the fae kingdom, right?” The woman’s curiosity peaked. “Are you fae, then? I couldn’t tell.” 

“Well no, I’m human. I was adopted by my father who’s from Briar Valley.” 

“Just him? No one else?” The store owner asked without looking at Silver once, instead moving back and forth to get things done behind the counter, but her attention was still locked on him.

“There were a few others I grew up with, but my father was the one who raised me” 

It was only then when the busy woman slowed down a smidge, pausing for a moment before untying the bag that held your snacks. You watched her tossed a few more small packets of snacks near her counter. 

“These are very popular, share them with your father.” She looked sternly into your boyfriend’s iridescent eyes, the first time in a while since you’ve been in the store. “Make sure to visit him, okay?” 

Silver wanted to protest, to correct the misunderstanding. The snacks the two of you picked out already included some for Lilia and he couldn’t possibly ask for more without paying. 

It was up to you to intervene. “Just give up, Silver. You can’t change a woman’s mind.” 

The store owner nodded. “Listen to the smart one. Just take it, I insist.” 

With a sliver of guilt but a lot of warmth, Silver eventually accepted the kind woman’s offering before leaving the establishment. 

What Silver didn’t see however, was you sneaking a few snacks and a drink onto the counter with adequate fare tucked underneath. You shared a look with the store owner before leaving, playfully staring her down to not to refuse your offering. 

The store owner let out a laugh, thinking what a cute couple you were. 

Regardless of wherever he goes, Malleus sticks out like a sore thumb, a very intimidating sore thumb. 

Eyes naturally glance at him with curiosity throughout the market, amazed by the regal figure walking around, like a celebrity strolling around the local areas. 

If your hometown speaks another language, some of the market vendors would tell you not-so sneakily how attractive your lover was while Malleus was none the wiser.

But, as curious as the humans were, they were quick to accept him as is, which shocked the fair-skinned fae. It wasn’t as though he was being avoided or judged, but rather the community took him and his inhuman appearance as typical. Undaunted by anything, the nosy sellers would joke and compliment him like any other walking around here. 

“What a handsome fae you are, you can be a model!” “And tall! He can reach the top of our tent, haha!”

Malleus can tell his horns and ears are eye-catching to say the least, but everyone was quick to grow accustomed to his features, even warning him to watch his head should he bump into anything in this crowded alley. 

“Are those with my features a common prevalence in your homeland?” 

“No, you’re a rarity around here. But that doesn't mean you don’t belong here any less.” 

“Ah, so this is how a beautiful soul is cultivated,” Malleus thought, gazing softly as you and a kind merchant searched around the store for a shirt that could fit the future king.

The day was setting, and you and Malleus decided to rest at a popular park that was famous for its view of the town. You weren’t alone as both locals and visitors filled the space, either resting or making memories with their friends and families. 

Then, you heard a whisper from a timid voice behind the two of you. 

“Um, mister.” You turned around to see some local children looking curiously at Malleus. 

“Are you fae?” The eldest boy spoke first, nervously clutching his jacket. 

When Malleus calmly responded in affirmation, the other children lit up with excited smiles. 

“You’re super tall, taller than my dad!” Another child exclaimed, “Are all fae tall like you?” 

Malleus smirked rather haughtily. “Very few others, fae or otherwise, stand on par to myself.”

”I’m the tallest in my class!” The eldest boy blurted out, even puffing his chest and slightly leaning on his toes. “It’s because I drink my milk everyday. Do you drink milk?” 

You abruptly nudged your lover before intervening. “Yes he does, which is why you need to drink milk and other healthy food to keep growing.” 

A little girl, hidden behind the first two children, spoke out. “How long is your hair? My hair is really long too!” 

She pushed her long braided hair to the front, comparing her neatly combed hair to Malleus’s direction. 

“Your hair is quite long indeed, perhaps matching mine in length at first glance.” Malleus commented back, amused by the children’s competitive nature. 

After sharing all of their thoughts, the curious children finally left when their guardians called them back, waving at the two of you before running out of sight. Now free, Malleus looked to you with curiosity of his own gleaming in his striking green eyes. 

“The offspring of this land are inquisitive as they are fearless,” Malleus smiled in your direction. “I wonder if all children hailed from here shared these traits.” 

Were you like them as a child? 

You picked up on his unspoken question and replied with a cheeky expression. “Wouldn’t you like to know~” 

Would he? Would he like to know if you were the type to run around so carefree and see the world with such interest and curiosity. If your future children would be like those endearing little ones just now…

Yes, he would.

[grapejuicestyless]

Quiet When I’m Coming Home

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n and JJ would give anything for each other, but yet JJ’s insecurities of failing Y/n lead to the one thing they both never wanted to happen, and it’s too hard to let that go.

“Don’t you know I’m no good for you?”

She smiled, her fingers dancing across the dimples in my cheeks, her breath tickling the hair that curled over my brows.

“I’ve learned to lose, you can’t afford to.” My hands traced the curves of her body, holding her against my ribs and dipping my palms underneath her shirt to feel the softness of her skin against the callouses on my hands, feeling the frayed bottom from where the hem was ripped off, the soft material wrapped tightly around my bicep. “You’ll be alone. It won’t take long for me to drag you into my shit.”

“I want to be a part of your shit.” She smiled softly, the moon shining down on her pretty face. She really was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.

“No you don’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She argued, her thumb wiping the dirt out from under my eyelashes, her concentrated stare watchful and gentle all at once.

“This was my favorite shirt, you know.” She toys with the fabric around my arm next, the edges of the scrape poking through. “But it doesn’t really matter because I have a lot of shirts I like, and I can still wear this one. It might be different now, but it works just the same. I love it just like I did before I ripped it up. It’s still a shirt.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” I smiled, leaning in closer to her, in a way that pushed the boundaries of friendship. I wanted to hold her and have her, but even if she swore she wanted everything I had with no regrets or second thoughts, I couldn’t do that for her. I liked her a great deal too much to do that to her.

“No.” She smiled with her teeth. “You just don’t get it yet.”

“I’m sure I don’t.” I agreed, making no effort to move away from her. I didn’t want to move away from her, I liked the way my hands fit around her waist and her legs slotted between my thighs. I liked the feeling of her soft hands wrapping her thin shirt around a scrape on my arm because it felt a whole lot sweeter when she was holding me than when I was.

“I love you, JJ.” She spoke softly, and my breathing stopped. Deep down, I knew without a doubt I shared the feeling, how could I not? But the fear of commitment, and the greater fear of fucking her up made all confessions die in my throat.

“Y/n…” I sighed.

“You don’t have to say it back. You don’t even have to feel the same way. But you mean a lot to me, and you’ve always been nice to me so I guess I just wanted to let you know.”

“It would never work between us.” I told her softly, not truly believing myself. She was perfect for me, my other half, a grounding force, but inside I felt just like the scared twelve year old boy who didn’t know what a family was, or how to express his feelings without yelling. “Your parents hate me.”

“Well, they hate me too, so we have that in common.” She joked quietly, even though it made me sad because it was true. Even if they had too much pride to admit it, they were always angry at how Y/n had turned out. Never mind the fact that she was smart, ambitious, sweet, and kind, she was bumming around with Pogues instead of laying around lavish houses with the Kooks.

They always wanted her to be the next Cameron, a clone of the fucked up children who lived expensive lives on figure eight. But she never was.

“They’d send you away the moment they would see us together.” I tried to reason. “What would I do then?”

“You’d come get me, I know you would.” She breathed softly. “But that wouldn’t happen, I’d run away before they could take me.”

“They’d get you in the night.”

“I’d sleep at the Chateau.” She argued quickly, a faint smile on her face. She really was something special.

Enough was said and we fell into silence, my nose bumping against hers in the darkness. I could feel her hair tickling my skin, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I risked it all for her.

“What if I hurt you?” I asked softly, my eyes trained on her lips.

“I’ll let you.” She breathed.

It should have made me sick, the way she readily accepted the possibility, but it didn’t. Instead, in some sick way, it only made me want her more. Her devotion was something I’d never known before, and in her oath in which she held me, I wanted to be hers so badly.

“I told you! I told you I’d fuck you up and you promised me you wanted it!” I shouted at her in the doorway, the chateau shaking from how heavy my feet slapped against the wood. I could barely look up, no amount of weed could blur the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I do, Jay! I want all of it, I want all of you!” She breathed out like it hurt her, like it was the last breath she could have taken and she used it on expressing herself to me.

“No you don’t. No you can’t, I’ll ruin you!” I fought back, and she pulled me away from the door. I could have easily slipped away, she hadn’t used much force, but she had me wrapped around her finger, and I let her drag me all the way back to where she stood, clinging onto the hem of my shirt and looking at me like it would kill her if I walked out on her now. Maybe it would.

“Then ruin me, I’m already tragic, so ruin me. Do whatever you want, but please don’t let me go. Don’t walk out just like everyone else ever has.”

Her teary eyes burned my heart, my stomach aching with a beating pain I’d never felt before. I didn’t want to ruin her, but when she begged so nicely, I realized how I’d only hurt her worse by abandoning her.

“Y/n/n, baby.” My thumbs wiped away her tears, my hands resting on her cheeks. Her face sat in the palms of my hands like it was meant to be admired by me, like we were supposed to be wrapped up in each other like this, a mess, but one that tangled itself back together in the end.

“I love you.”

Her voice was quiet, and needy, like she was scared to say it, not because of me, but because part of her believed that it wouldn’t be enough to get me to stay.

“I love you too.” I promised her softly, my lips pressing to her forehead in a lingering moment. “We just need a little space, baby. Just a little.”

She nodded understandingly, and her knuckles untangled themselves from where she pulled on my now stretched out shirt. I heard her mumble an apology under her breath.

“Don’t apologize, don’t. Stop it.” I held her firm again, her face tucked against my chest, her shoulders deflated. “I’ll step away for tonight, and I’ll see you in the morning, okay? It’ll all be alright.” I promised her, my lips finding a home on the top of her head, her hair smelling like sweet tea and mango.

“Okay, okay.” She sniffled, her tears drying up.

I felt the tips of her fingers sliding down from where her arms were woven around me tightly to the edges of my own hands. She held on tightly before flexing her palms, letting me go. Now that we were further apart I could see the redness in her eyes and the pout of her lips.

I wanted to kiss her, but it would only make it worse, so I headed for the door.

“I love you.” I reminded her. “And I’ll call you.”

She nodded, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. She looked so beat down like this, and for a minute I wanted to stay, but I had to think of an apology, and I needed to clear my head.

“Call me when the party’s over?” She confirmed quietly.

“Of course.”

My boots carried me down the old wooden steps, the loud slapping of my feet quiet as they hit the grass at the bottom. I hoped the beer at the boneyard would help sober me up, ironically, and maybe help me get the courage to hold her without the fear of breaking her.

Her shirts took up most of the dresser I claimed back at the chateau. Not that I minded, but sometimes I did find it amusing because more often than not she was laying around in my clothes. She said she liked the smell, though I thought she smelled much better than me. She liked how it made her feel closer to me, in a way. At least, that’s what she told me once.

She always took up have of the bed at least, we had our own sides from the moment we met, but she always slept on top of me, her head resting in the crook of my neck. She was warm, and in the summer, we’d both wake up sweating, but neither of us minded. We’d lay there, tangled and sweaty forever if we could.

I used to look forward to going to work, not because it gave me space from her, but because no matter how long, or short the day was, she was always waiting for me with a smile and a laugh, ruffling my hair between her fingers and pressing a sweet kiss to my skin. I wanted to hold her forever.

Sometimes, her laughter still rang through the house. When we all went on the boat, or soaked up the sun and stuck our toes in the sand, I thought of her, and I know everyone else still did too.

Her parents said she’d be back when they thought she earned it, but they hated her more than anyone I ever knew hated anything. So I knew that day would never come, though Sarah told me I should be more hopeful.

Somedays, I still wondered why she went back home the day I went to the boneyard. Deep down, she knew they would take her away the minute she stepped foot inside the place she never knew as home, but she still went.

Part of me believes that it was because she was so trusting, so willing to let people ruin her, take pieces of her, take advantage of her sweetness, she truly believed that her own blood would never do such a cruel thing to her. But they were never family, and blood only goes so far if those who are supposed to look out for you and love you can’t even look at you.

Nowadays, I hated going to work. I hated the beach, and I couldn’t stand the boat. I lied to everyone and promised I felt fine coming home to an empty house, and I lied to myself when I looked in the mirror and told myself it was for the best, because everyone knew it wasn’t.

I had called her, that night before she left. Her voice was quiet, and I thought I heard her feet hitting cement, but I blamed it on the alcohol. She swore she loved me and would be there when I eventually stumbled through the door, but she wasn’t. And she never would be again.

It was so quiet when I came home, and now it would forever be that way. Even if my friends were yelling in the kitchen, silence was all I felt. An empty, hollow feeling.

I wished I had never given us space in the end, and I wished she had never let me. But I wouldn’t change a thing, not with her, not ever. Changing nothing is better than anything.

Even now, I can’t let her go. I can’t let myself let her go. But I can lie and say I like it like this, because it makes it easier to forgive.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU GAVE ME ROSES / I LEFT THEM THERE TO DIE

touya todoroki x reader

touya loved you in december, and now he can’t go back. so instead, he writes to you.

inspired by back to december

doll,

i hope you’re okay, wherever the hell you are now. a guy like me, you’d think i have death all figured out by now. but i don’t. i don’t know where you’ve been taken, but i hope its somewhere good and bright. in other words, i hope its somewhere better than this shit hole.

hows life? hows your family? just kidding. i know its going terrible because i’m a selfish bastard who didn’t protect you like i should have. do you hate me now? i still don understand why you didn’t when you around. you have terrible taste in men, baby.

the last time i saw you. god damn, its burned in the back of my mind. i’ll never forget your face, doll. you saw me out there, fighting off those damn heroes and you didn’t even look scared for yourself. you look worried, and i’ll never understand why you went charging in there yourself. both of us know i ain’t worth saving.

but this is me swallowing my pride.

i’m sorry.

i’m sorry i stayed around, and let you fall in love with me. if you hadn’t met me, you’d be fine. you would have never gotten involved with a scumbag like me. and… you’d still be here. don’t know if i’ll ever forgive myself for that. for any of it.

god, if i only realized what i had when you were mine. what i’d give to go back to december, doll. see your face in the snow, your pink nose scrunched up. i complained about taking care of you when you were sick, but i hope you know i’d do it a million times over. i never answered your question when you asked me why i’m so good. its because of my mom.

i havent been sleeping, doll. my mind replays when i left you. why’d you have to chase after me? why not just let whatever happens happen to me? only you believe you could change fate, not even for yourself but for me. i don’t know what to make of that. i sure as hell don’t deserve that shit.

i miss your skin, your sweet smile. you were so good to me, so god damn right. the way you’d hold me in your arms, even when i couldn’t cry- its like you’d know when i wanted to. and i’m fucking idiot for dreaming, for even having wishful thinking.

but if i could love you again, i’d do it right. i’d go back in time and change it all.

but i can’t.

and now you’re gone.

i know i said i’d give your ashes to your parents, but remember- i’m a selfish asshole. i’ll hold on to them for now. i’ll see you again soon, anyway. and wherever the hell that is, i’ll turn it around. make it all right. you deserve it.

touya

[jesswritesthat]

can i request a kuroo x reader where reader is bokuto’s sib? that would be so funny and how would he act towards them? and HOW BOKUTO WOULD REACT AT THIS😭😭 love yaa

A/N: omg I love this idea!!!

>>>>——————————>

Kuroo Dating Bokutos’ Sibling Headcanons:

• Ironically Bokuto was the one to introduce you to Kuroo, and he would never have shown you off so proudly if he could predict the future.

Alas - you walked into a busy Fukurōdani Group Training Camp during their second year equipped with a bento box and a string of curses.

“See how amazing my family is Rooster hair? My biggest fan brings me lunch!” Bokuto slings an arm around your shoulder beaming with grateful pride.

“Ugh, yeah yeah. I figured you’d need energy and I wanted to see Akaashi too…” You retort, looking for your fellow first year in the gym.

• Bokuto issued you an expression of feigned hurt, hand on his chest and putting you at arms length as he hunched over.

“You wound me!”

“If that’s all it takes, I need to take notes.” The Nekoma player commented, this leaving Bokuto barking back at him before returning to ‘normalcy’.

“Anyway, this is my wonderful sibling (Y/n) and this is Kuroo Tetsurō. A middle blocker for Nekoma.”

“Nice to meet you Kuroo.”

“Likewise.”

• It was meant to be left at that, and each of you involved in that situation would’ve agreed too. Except, you found that the way he matched your wit magnetic, and how he’d join you when teasing Bokuto became a highlight of your time spent at the camp.

• Akaashi had noticed it too, addressing it rather bluntly since he was the one you lingered around most often.

“You and Kuroo-san get along well.”

“I know, he’s kinda cool. I’m glad I got to met players from other teams, no wonder Kōtarō likes these training camps so much.”

“You’re right, they are fun.” He’d dismissed is as friendly acquaintances. For now.

• It wasn’t until the next practice match between Fukurōdani and Nekoma that you saw Kuroo again (and you’d ensured to come by the gym before the match to see them). This time warmly greeting each other like friends rather than strangers. A ritual that continued very time Nekoma were involved in Volleyball events.

• It’s near the end of second year that Bokuto finally started to notice, this wasn’t how ‘just friends’ acted. Your brother was oblivious to this stuff usually, which is why it had taken an interaction longer to catch on, but when it came to you he was more observant with such things.

• It’s written in the way Kuroo leans in to listen to you; how you refill his and Kenmas bottles; that you seem to be laughing together more often than not; and in the way you look at each other. It incurs a narrowed analytic gaze from the Fukurōdani Ace.

• When you felt hands clasp your shoulders and steeer you away with an intimidating undertone to his upbeat voice, you figured he was on to your little crush.

“I’m taking (Y/n) away rooster hair, my sibling and I have things to discuss. Don’t we?”

“Crap.”

“Oh yeah, you’re damn right.”

• Golden eyes boared into you intently as if expecting you to spill all your secrets, Akaashi also present to such painful tactics.

“This isn’t going to work Bokuto-san.”

“Give it time Akaashi! I‘ve been unbeatable since we were kids.” The Ace dismissed, not breaking stern eye contact with you.

“Kōtarō, you’re an idiot.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Oh nothing about Kuroo hm? That scheming bastard not charming enough huh?”

“Yes he— I mean no— argh this is so unfair!”

“HAHA! See, told you I’d get ‘em.” Bokuto smugly nudged Akaashi who looked far too tired for your sibling antics right now.

• Well at least you’ll only see each other at volleyball events, which aren’t too frequent to build on. Especially a long as Bokuto lives and breathes.

“I got his number.”

“YOU WHAT?!” He’s dramatically shaking your shoulders as of its going to realign your senses.

“He — gave — number — in touch.”

“I’ll spike his stupid face!”

“You’d do that anyway.”

“Not the point (N/n)! I’ll do it 100x harder now!” It was rather eccentric, but you’d like to think he would actually commit to such a thing ‘purposefully’.

• So your secrets out. Bokuto isn’t happy about it. And Akaashi is the embodiment of Switzerland but with more conspiracy.

Oh you want a moment to talk to Kuroo without Bokuto knowing? He’ll distract him. Bokuto can’t supervise all the time? Akaashi is monitoring Kuroos interactions.

• However you manage to meet up in Tokyo without the pretences of volleyball games or training camps. It’s purely to see one another and through this developing friendship, and with each outing creating a level of comfort, it was natural for the flirty banter to start.

• Such a tiptoe game preceded to their third year, and it became dangerously obvious that the pair of you had a thing for each other but neither of you had acted on it. At first Bokuto was relieved and eager to pettily drag you away whenever the opportunity arose. But now he’d kind of understood that the growing feelings were more genuine than he’d originally assumed.

• It’s still a surprise when Kuroo charismatically pulls him away to an empty gymnasium after training, only to take a more awkward and serious tone when the nerves set in.

“Bokuto, you know you’re one of my best friends right?”

“Yeah man, but I’m not into you that way.”

“Woah, you wish frosty tips.” Kuroo breathed out with a smirk, more at ease thanks to that remark. “I was gonna ask for you blessing as lame as that sounds.”

“Eh? What for?”

“To ask (Y/n) on a date…”

That’s when the humour tainting his expression fades, when the amber in his eyes burn, and the muscles of his crossed arms tense up.

“I see.”

• It takes you a moment to grasp the situation too, of Tetsurō actually asking you to hang out with him after the camp ends - with the specificity of it being a date this time. It doesn’t take long for you to accept, even if you did tease him a little.

“Has becoming Captain made you braver?”

“Oya, I asked before you did (Y/n). Let alone the fact you couldn’t resist my offer~”

• Kuroo finds the situation the easiest to deal with you think, he acts natural even if he is a bundle of nerves underneath it all. His existing relationship with Bokuto and teasing personality make it easier to adjust to. Although sometimes you’ll over hear conversations between the two.

“Thanks for asking rooster hair. Anyway… how’s (Y/n)?” Bokuto asks, slightly more apprehensive than their previous conversation about teams.

“Happy I hope, though I annoyed them the other day - ate the last snack from the packet.” Kuroo snickered, only for Kōtarō to cut in.

“Yeah? You should try taking a bunch of photos, that really gets to (Y/n).”

“Hey?! Don’t help him!” You shout down.

• It amused you in the beginning, one specific time when Kuroo came to your door to pick you up only to find an expectant Bokuto.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. I can’t possibly allow my beloved sibling—”

“I have fried chicken.” Kuroo held up a warm takeout bag, conniving smirk in place.

“Deal, take ‘em wherever you want.”

“Kōtarō?!” You explained, your brother accepting the food without a second thought and ushering you toward the door.

“Eh? You haven’t bribed me in a while, rooster hair is my favourite right now. Out you go, don’t keep the man waiting.”

• They also go shopping together whenever it’s a celebration that involves you. They gladly put yen together for a big gift, or give one another recommendations - yet act completely innocent about it when you call them out on it.

• Sometimes you even feel like you’re third wheeling if Tetsurō visits the Bokuto household, their bromance truly was one of a kind. Though you didn’t mind, grateful that your brother and boyfriend got along so well.

• Bokuto still had that big brother protectiveness though and Kuroo was a scheming bastard when exploiting it. He’d playfully kiss you or show affection in front him - Kōtarō immediately pulling you into him with a look of utter disgust.

“How dare you lay your hands on (Y/n)?”

“Kou, he’s my boyfrie—“

“He knows what he did!”

• Overall it’s a positive experience, and it feels like Kuroo is already apart of the family due to the connections you each already share. They both make the effort to ensure you are happy when they can, and keep in touch fairly often. To be honest your certain they let the other know if your in a bad mood… so much for loyalty y’know?

• However, one thing you haven’t discovered yet, is that when Kuroo asked for Bokutos’ blessing, he readily accepted.

“I see.”

A look of contemplation, and then a beaming smile.

“Finally man! Course you have my blessing bedhead, I can tell you care about (Y/n) and would protect them like I would. Plus I know they’d be happy.”

“Thanks Bokuto, I’ll give it my best if they accept.”

“You better. Else I’ll kill you.” This was sinister, it was that deranged look he got when lost in a match, the one before the most earsplitting spikes - suddenly replaced with his usual carefree grin.

“Whatcha waiting for huh? Get out there and ask (Y/n)!”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[yujinslovr]

DAY 10 : gp!chaewon and minju x fem!reader

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

CW: double penetration, dub con?, degradation, creampie, oral, lmk if there's anything else!

word count: 3,514

a/n: 8.397 inches long, 3.95 inches wide, salmon pink tip (#fa8076 to be exact), warm beige shaft (#ddbd9e) trimmed, and curves to the left slightly

kim chaewon and kim minju, everyone on campus knew of them, the famous kim's. the two girls had been childhood friends and were the campus crushes, the soccer captain and co-captain. they were both known as players in and out of the field, breaking hearts was nothing but a game to them. they got away with anything and everything they did, they were the pride of the school, their amazing skill in the field leading the school to endless victories. after graduation, the duo was set to go into the national leagues. not only were they insanely hot, their bodies toned due to the constant practice that was required in order to excel in their sport, but their parents were also the main funders of the school. they both came from some of the most prestigious families in all of south korea. due to their parents funding and their insane soccer skills, the both of them would get away with anything and everything. showing up to class was an option for them, all they needed to say was they were practicing and they’d get away scot free. 

chaewon and minju had never been denied by anyone, they had everyone begging to be with them. when chaewon saw you sitting on a couch at one of the parties yena hosted, she was stunned by your beauty. she had never seen you before, but she’d make sure to get to know you in more ways than ones. she confidently approached you and slid an arm over your shoulders gaining your attention. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” chaewon said in her usual confident tone. 

You shrugged her arm off, “maybe I want to be alone.” 

chaewon knew girls of your kind, a smirk spread across her face, knowing you were just playing hard to get. “I think i can change your mind on that.” chaewon said in a smug tone. “i’m kim chaewon.” she said, holding her hand out for you to shake. 

“i know.” everyone knew the famous kim chaewon, her along with her best friend kim minju had their faces plastered all over campus. it was practically impossible to not know the name, seeing as not only was she the biggest person on campus, but her family was also one of the biggest in south korea, you’d have to live under a rock to not know her. along with her name came her reputation, she was famous for playing with girls’ hearts and you did not want to be added to her list of fucks.

“can i get your name, pretty?” she said with a chuckle at your words, you knowing her only solidified her thought that you wanted her. 

“look, i'm really not interested and i’d appreciate it if you left me alone.” you said in your calmest voice, not trying to sound like a bitch but also quickly getting annoyed.

chaewon didn’t let your words affect her, she knew you wanted her, everyone did. “look-” she clearly mocked. “i know girls like you, and i understand your little game of back and forth but frankly I'm getting a bit bored. what do you say we go back to my place and you can get what you really want.” chaewon’s hand found its place on your upper thigh, giving it a little squeeze to emphasize her words. 

“wow, you’re such a fucking douche.” and with that you stood up silently fuming as you walked out of the house. you wish you could’ve punched her right then and there but you didn't want to cause a scene and you’d definitely get bodied. so you chose the smarter option, and decided to walk back to your dorm which was luckily not that far of a walk.

chaewon stayed where she was on the couch, fuming on the inside in embarrassment. she had never been rejected and she wasn't about to let you be her first, she’d make sure to get you. minju, who had witnessed the whole thing from a distance, came over laughing at chaewon. “wow, did i really just witness kim chaewon getting rejected?” 

“shut up.” chaewon sneered, her pride hurt at the fact that you really rejected her. 

“I think you might be losing your charm.” minju said in a chuckle, still not over the fact that chaewon really got rejected. “let's make a bet actually, i think I'm interested in her too. lets see who can get in her pants first.” 

and with that it started

you didn't know how, but somehow both of the famous kims seemed to have gotten your schedule. ever since you left that party a couple weeks ago the duo had not left you alone, both of them constantly throwing pick up lines and just trying to woo you in general. it was honestly so annoying and bothersome, the two were waiting outside of your every class and would constantly be following you around. you tried to reject them, but they just didn't seem to get the memo. hell, you even reported them to the office for harassment yet as expected the school didn't do anything, at most giving them a small ‘don't do it again’.

today was the homecoming game, and you were originally going to stay in your dorm room, and maybe watch a movie. but you had reluctantly been dragged out of your dorm by your best (and only) friend wonyoung. her girlfriend was on the team and so she obviously went to all the games, but since this was the last one of the semester and against SMU, one of your schools biggest competitors, she wanted you to be there with her. 

you had never been interested in sports before, so you didn't really understand all that was happening. but you understood that the game was very intense, judging by the scores displayed on the jumbotron, SMU was very very close in score, and you could see how stressed out minju and chaewon looked. they had never lost a game a day in their life and they werent gonna start now. you didn't think you���d originally be very interested in what was going on in the game, you assumed you’d be using your phone throughout the whole game. now that you were actually at the game and watching, you couldn't seem to remove your eyes from the field, thoroughly invested in the game. you were sitting at the edge of your seat, your legs jumping up and down. 

it was during halftime, when everyone took a break that minju noticed you, she went up to chaewon, pointing in your direction. chaewon’s eyes widened, just like minju’s did when she saw you, the both of them shocked to see that you came. it was like seeing you lit something in both of them, after making eye contact and winking at you the duo were on fire, quickly largening the score difference. everytime chaewon made a shot, she’d send you a look, as if boasting yet still asking for her reward. 

before you knew it, the game had ended. minju and chaewon both being the stars of the night, for saving the team from having their first loss. wonyoung had asked you if you could wait outside the locker rooms with her until yujin came out so you all could walk back together. you had been reluctant at first, not wanting to bump into minju or chaewon but wonyoung kept on begging saying that it would be easier since you all lived in the same building. not being able to deny wonyoung’s pout, you now found yourself outside the locker rooms hiding behind wonyoung. 

“God, how much longer will she take?!” you let out exasperated, you had seen probably half the team leave yet yujin was nowhere to be found. 

“she’ll come out any minute, and you're acting like you have better things to be doing.” 

“actually-” you cut yourself off when yujin walked out, minju and chaewon in tow. “god dammit.” you whispered under your breath. 

minju and chaewon had their signature smirks on when they saw you waiting outside. “waiting on us darling?” chaewon said, inching closer and closer to you as you walked backwards. 

“you and yujin can go, we got y/n covered.” minju said, looking at wonyoung as yujin went to pull her away.

you sent a pleading look to wonyoung hoping she wouldn't leave you alone, but wonyoung apparently didn't get the message and instead sent you two thumbs up and a wink. you could strangle wonyoung right now for leaving you between these two douches. 

“look, i was just waiting with wonyoung for yujin, and i’d appreciate it if-” you cut yourself off with a yelp as you felt minju throw you over her shoulder, carrying you inside the locker room. “w-wait what are you guys doing?” 

“well, i mean we just won the homecoming game. don't we deserve a reward?” chaewon said, minju pushing you to your knees in front of chaewon. 

they both pulled down their sweats, revealing their massive cocks. your eyes widened as you switched between looking at minju and chaewon, you had heard the rumors, but seeing it in person you could tell the rumors didn't do them justice. you definitely didn't want to be added to their list of bodies, but seeing chaewon’s cock in front of you, the angry red tip leaking precum you couldn't help but want it. chaewon let out a chuckle at the look on your face, tapping her tip on your lips and smearing your lips with her precum. no matter how much you wanted it, you refused to give her the satisfaction, instead choosing to keep your lips shut, a glint of defiance in your eyes.

with a grunt, chaewon pushed past your closed lips and forcefully entered your mouth. you swirled your tongue around the meat in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to suck. the salty taste of her precum filled your taste buds, it wasn't the good kind of salty but for some reason it had you craving for more. you took your time with her, your hand gripping what wouldn't fit into your mouth while you bobbed your head up and down chaewon’s length. your hand simultaneously found minju’s cock, you rubbed her tip, smearing the precum that was there, giving minju a hand job while you sucked chaewon off. 

minju started to thrust her hips, meeting your hand while chaewon did the same thing, tightening her grip in your hair as she thrusted her hips into your mouth. “f-fuck baby, i always knew you wanted me.” your response couldn't be anything more than muffled moans and gags. the overwhelming feeling of chaewon’s thick cock filling up your mouth was more than enough to bring you to tears. you could feel your jaw grow sore as chaewon used your mouth like a fleshlight. the constant grunts chaewon would let out as she slammed her hips into your face almost felt like a reward, her noises turning you on to no end “f-fuck!” and with one last thrust into your mouth she bottomed out, not stopping till your nose was squished against her pelvis. you could feel the warm semen shooting out into the deepest parts of your mouth. the slightly bitter yet sweet taste filled your senses and you couldn't help but wonder how minju would taste. 

after finishing in your mouth, chaewon moved from in front of you and you dropped your hand that was working minju as she came to stand in front of you. your mouth opening in almost instinct as minju stood in front of you, her cock pointing at you, the tip beading with precum. you couldn't take your eyes off of her, she was a bit longer than chaewon but less girthy. 

minju’s hands tangled themselves in your hair, keeping your head still so that she could thrust in easily. your jaw was sore, and so was the back of your throat from the constant abuse, yet you couldn't seem to pull away. if anything you found yourself wanting more, hollowing out your cheeks as you tasted all of her. “a-always knew you wanted us, this is all sluts like you want.” she grunted out, her balls slapping into your chin with every thrust. chaewon stood to the side, her dick not staying down for long at the sight of minju fucking your face. 

chaewon went up behind you, minju pulling out of your mouth after sharing a look with chaewon. chaewon manhandled you onto the bench in the locker room, standing behind you while minju took her place in front of you. minju shared a look with chaewon, rubbing and slapping her wet cock on your face. minju’s other hand suddenly gripped your hair, pulling your head up to look at her, smirking at your state. your own spit mixed with her precum was spread across your face, your mascara was smudged and so was your lipstick. “mm, such a dirty whore for me aren't you?” not letting you give a response, minju shot chaewon a look and then at the same time minju bottomed out in your mouth while chaewon did the same in your cunt. 

your eyes widened, the feeling of chaewon filling you to the brink with no prep whatsoever had you gasping for air, air which you couldn't inhale seeing as minju was all the way in your mouth. your chokes on minju’s dick became more intense, but she didn't care, not one bit. you were here for her pleasure, she didn't care about what happened to you. she eventually did retract her long fucking cock from your mouth, allowing you not more than a second to inhale before she was back in. 

the vibration of your moans on minju’s dick had her blissed out, her head was thrown back and you couldn't seem to rip your eyes from the sight. you knew they were hot, you had eyes, but seeing minju with her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, and sweat rolling down her neck you couldn't help but be astonished at her beauty. it was all almost too much for you, the way chaewon pounded into you, hitting parts you didn't even think reachable. it was all too much for you to handle, the built up pressure in your lower stomach finally releasing itself. 

if this was any other time, you might’ve been embarrassed for releasing so quick, but minju pulling out of your mouth and painting your face with her cum had you too distracted. the warm sticky fluid covered your face as minju jerked herself off in front of your face. your head was being held up by minju, one hand in your hair and one on herself. not being able to help yourself, you reached a hand up and swiped a finger over your cheek, collecting her cum and sticking it in your mouth. you hummed around your fingers at the taste, instantly craving more; had you known minju tasted this good, you long would’ve given yourself up. 

“what a fucking whore, cant get enough can you? i bet a whore like you would love to be filled up by us daily, have your useless holes put to use.” minju’s degradation was turning you on way more than it should’ve, no longer denying their words but instead nodding rapidly at minju’s words. 

it didn't take long for chaewon to cum either, her following closely after minju. pulling out just to marvel at the sight of your cunt clenching around nothing, her semen dripping out in white globs. despite having just cum, the two soccer players couldn't seem to get it down, the sight of you all ruined for them having a big effect on them. 

minju left from in front of you, going behind you to join chaewon. words weren’t needed for the duo, a simple glance saying everything that needed to be said. minju’s cock was already soaked in your spit, but just to be safe, she reached down to your cunt and scooped some of your cum mixed with chaewon’s and slathered her cock with it. chaewon picked you up, sitting down on the bench and then placing you on top of her, while simultaneously sinking herself back into your snatch. 

minju stayed standing until chaewon shot her a look, lifting you up a bit and spreading your ass cheeks open. you let out a small confused squeak at the action, but still didn't think much of it. not until you felt minju’s tip prodding at your asshole, you weren’t given so much as a heads up before minju shoved herself into the tight ring of muscle. you had taken only a couple people there before, but none of them even came close to not only minju’s length but also her girth. 

the feeling of both minju and chaewon’s monster fucking cocks in you was most definitely too much. you dont think you’ve ever felt this full, you could feel the both of them moving in and out of you. when chaewon would pull out minju would plunge herself in, not giving you even a moment without being full of cock. your hands were clawing at chaewon’s back as you repeatedly moaned out their names, almost like a mantra. you could feel it, it had barely even been a few minutes yet you had never been more sure of this feeling. you tried your best to hold out, but it was just too much the constant full feeling, the way they made sure that not a crevice was left untouched was too much. the feeling of minju reaching around you to grope your breasts was the frosting on the cake. with the feeling of minju twisting your nipple in between her fingers and you could feel the knot in your lower stomach snapping. you came with a high pitched moan, creamy rings of your cum shaping themselves around chaewon’s length. 

the minute you came down from your high, the immediate pain of overstimulation hitting full force. you tried to push yourself off of chaewon, mumbling out ‘wait’, but both minju and chaewon did not care “what happened baby? too much?” chaewon said, her eyes doused in lust, the small glint of faux innocence barely showing in the ocean of lust. 

“t-t’ much… p-please, ‘t hurts..” you mumbled out, tears streaming down your face, the overstimulation too much for you.

“too bad, me ‘n wonnie still haven’t gotten off. maybe if your whore pussy didnt cream so soon this wouldn't be happening..” minju said, you could practically see her mocking pout. 

you could feel a wave of humiliation wash over you at her words. though you weren’t allowed to indulge in your humiliation, as you felt a finger hook itself in your cunt stretching it open as chaewon stilled. your eyebrows furrowed, to fucked out to even begin to understand what was about to happen. It was then that you felt minju shove her whole cock into your already full snatch. “MMPH— i-it hurts! t-too much!” 

you could see the grin on chaewon’s face, satisfied at what they were doing to you and your reaction. “y’know, if you just hadn’t played hard to get this wouldn't be happening, it’s your punishment for even thinking you could reject me. chaewon said, pulling out and pushing herself back in, barely giving you a minute to adjust. 

“f-fuck you’re suffocating me.” minju groaned out, kneading your ass as she finally started to move.  

the fullness you were now feeling, was something much different from how it felt before. you felt as if you were being stretched to your absolute breaking point, as if the two of them were splitting you open. the feeling mixed with how overstimulated you were sent you into overdrive, leaning down to muffle your moans by biting into chaewon’s shoulder. you were sure you drew blood with how hard you were biting, the faint metallic taste in your mouth proof of that. yet you couldn't seem to let that thought sit for even a second, the overstimulation morphing into overwhelming pleasure. 

all the voices and noises seemed to blur out, the only thing you could focus on being the amazing feeling of being split open by two of the biggest cocks you’d ever seen. you had never felt anything this intense. the warm feeling of chaewon shooting her load into you closely followed by minju was your breaking point. everything was just too much, the feeling of finally letting go of the intense built up pressure in your lower stomach was euphoric. 

“holy fucking shit.” you could faintly hear chaewon’s voice as she looked at the mess you had made all over her and minju.

you felt chaewon’s soft hands rubbing your back while minju whispered sweet nothings into your ear trying to calm you down. that was the last thing you felt before losing your consciousness, the exhaustion of all that you had done catching up with you.

[luvjunie]

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR��S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

[heraldofpassion]

Our Time at the Cabin

Finally managed to finish my new birth fic! Hope you enjoy!

---

Getting down the stairs with a bunch of fresh towels in hand, Hugo couldn’t resist looking at his wife through the kitchen window.

She had been in labor from the brink of dawn, the sun now getting pretty high in the sky. Waddling through the grass, her hands on her back and belly, slowly breathing through the contractions. She was completely nude, her body offered to the warming rays of the summer. She had nothing to hide and lived as such.

Hugo joined her in the yard, the treeline extending all the way around their home. They lived in a modest, but cozy cabin in the middle of the woods. It was Valerie’s wish to leave the noisy city and find their roots back. Hugo wasn’t sure at first, but was convinced and now fully agreed on the sound idea his wife had had. And when she got pregnant, she expressed to desire to give birth as the women of her family all did before her: at home, at their own pace. Hugo, again, followed his wife’s wishes, and never regretted it.

The young man wrapped his arm around his wife, tenderly kissing her neck. She let a moan escape her mouth, before melting into Hugo’s grasp.

“Thank you, love. I was starting to think… you’d never come back,” Valerie joked, gently moving side to side, relying on her husband to support her extra weight. Since her labor had started for real, her belly had dropped significantly, making it even harder for her to move around.

“You know I’d never leave you, or our little one,” Hugo responded in a whisper, before placing a kiss on Valerie’s shoulder. “How do you feel? Do you think our baby has made any progress?”

Val grimaced slightly from a sharp pain in her side, before responding.

“It’s hard to say… but I feel like this little one is getting impatient to be born. They feel heavier and heavier… It’s like I have a… oh… bad contraction…”

Valerie couldn’t end her sentence before turning around, wrapping her arms around Hugo’s neck and slightly squatting, a strong contraction coursing through her body.

“Bad one… hurts…” she groaned, feeling herself opening further and further, her baby’s head resting against her cervix.

Hugo caressed his wife’s back, swaying with her, supporting her as she set the pace, her body knowing what to do.

“I’m here, darling. You’re doing so good. You’re so strong. You’re the best mama ever,” he smiled, letting her press her head on his shoulder.

“I think… think I want to go in the lake. Will you go with me?” Val asked, gently stroking Hugo’s face as the contraction faded.

“Of course, I’d never say no to you. I will be my pleasure,” he answered, taking her hand and placing a tender kiss on the back of it.

They exchange a smile filled with respect, care and love, before slowly making their way to the small lake nearby.

The water was clear and shining with the sun, almost like giant mirror. Valerie let herself walk into the water, her nude pregnant body glistening, only enhanced by the slow lapping of the water on her curves. Hugo couldn’t take his eyes off her. She never had been more beautiful then right now, laboring with their child. He finally joined her, helping her float and let her body free itself from most of the tension she was feeling.

“This is good… much better. Can’t believe we’re going to hold our baby soon…” Valerie said aloud, gently stroking her belly, before grabbing Hugo’s hand and placing it on top of her hard belly.

“Hey little one, it’s your daddy you’re feeling. Want to say hi?” Valerie chuckled, rubbing Hugo’s hand over her skin, while he was beaming with love and pride.

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted inside Val, she left out a slight yelp, before a jet of birth fluid escaped from between her legs, followed by a larger gushing, turning the water slightly murky.

“Guess my water broke…” Val laughed. “This baby really wants out,”

“Definitely. Do you need a towel.” winked Hugo, gently stroking her wet hair.

A kick taunted the surface of her belly, before the pain started flaring up again, stronger than before. She reached for Hugo’s arm.

“Yeah… really wants out… oh it’s happening…”

Valerie was resting against Hugo’s chest, holding onto him for dear life, her legs spread wide. He was kissing her forehead and moving her hair out of her eyes.

She could feel her lips opening, parting away to make place for the baby’s head. Involuntary, she felt herself tense up and start to push, slowly at first, but as the contraction faded again, she was giving in to the urge. She exhaled deeply as it ended, having just realized that she had been keeping it in.

“Almost there already, you’re doing so good…” whispered Hugo in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

On his part, Hugo was in awe at his wife strength and resolve. He guided her to the shore, where she would be able to lay against a solid surface and give herself a better support, leaving Hugo between her legs to help you deliver their child. He was stroking her thighs, slowly, almost methodically, his eyes fixed on the head starting to part his wife’s vagina. But something was… not as expected.

“Babe… that’s not the head coming out…” said Hugo, turning his gaze back to his wife, looking slightly concerned.

“What?!” Val exclaimed, raising her head, as if she was trying to say over her belly. “It’s breech?”

Hugo nodded, his hands still stroking her thighs. He knew it would make it harder on his wife, but he knew it didn’t make it impossible, and if someone could do it, it was Valerie.

Another contraction came, Valerie feeling her entire body tense, like her spine turned into electrified wire. She pushed hard, so hard… her vagina opening like never before. She felt like she was on fire, like she was going to rip apart…

“It’s too big! Too big! Hugo make it stop!!!” she screamed, consumed by the pressure and pain.”

“It’s gonna be ok, love. Just breathe, let it pass. Follow your body,” Hugo tried to reassure her, hating to see her in pain like that.

Valerie was moaning and panting, trying to mitigate the pressure on her lips.

“Help… help me Hugo… I’m gonna tear!” she screamed again, feeling her husband’s hands starting to gently massage the skin around her vagina, in the hope of stretching her enough for their baby’s body to come out.

Without even thinking, her body acting with a will, Valerie pushed again, even deeper. Hugo could see their baby, bottom first, their body bent on itself. Hugo knew their child would be alright, but their position made the birth even more complicated.

His wife continued to push like her life depended on it, the body starting to crown between her legs.

“Keep going, you’re almost there! Hugo encouraged his wife, gently stretching her again as the legs were almost out.

With a final guttural cry, Valerie pushed their baby’s legs out, the head still lodged deeply between her lips.

“Oh god! Oh god oh god… is it out? What’s happening?” panicked the mother, trying to reach between her legs, but her belly, while deflated a bit, was still in the way.

“The body is out, don’t worry. Just the head left,” smiled Hugo, holding Val’s hand, reassuring her, being here, trying to ground her.

Val took a deep breath, centered herself. She could herself being stretched wider than ever before, knowing pushing the head out would be quite the experience, to say only that.

“I feel it rising… I’m gonna push again…” cried Valerie, her breath rising, getting quicker.

“Stay calm, take a deep breath,” Hugo reminded her, holding her hands in his. “You’re going to birth our baby. When you feel the need, push…”

As soon as Hugo finished his sentence, Val threw her head back, her belly tensing and hardening as she pushed again, her lips moving around her large baby’s head. It seemed like an eternity, like the burning would never stop. A few seconds later, the head slipped out of Valerie as she yelped again from pain and surprise.

With the help of Hugo, she took their baby, who started to cry, and rocked them until they calmed down, before pressing them to her breast. Valerie was crying softly, as were Hugo, so happy in this perfect day.

They had a new addition to their family. Their time at the cabin would only be better from now one.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Storm: Dwayne Pride x Reader

Tagging: @mandy426 @Keyweegirlie @Luckyladycreator2 @Elixae @buckysteveloki-me

Companion piece to:

 Ro - Dwayne starts to see you in a different light.

Roses - Dwayne realises you’re being courted.

Waiting - Dwayne can't stand to see you with another man.

The night of the hurricane nobody knows where you are, not your family, not your friends, not the two men that love you more than life itself. At first Dwayne thinks you must be with Douglas, he knows there are specific protocols for the Mayor and his loved ones, he assumes you’ll be squared away somewhere safe.

It’s the panicked phone call he gets from Douglas that makes him realise you’re not where you’re supposed to be.

“She wouldn’t come to the shelter Dwayne, I tried but she wanted to be out there helping people, doing her job. Now I can’t get hold of her and this things it’s about to hit.”

His heart stops beating in his chest because Dwayne, he remembers what happened the last time you were trapped out in a storm like this. You’d almost died back in Georgia when one of the offshoots of Katrina hit, he thanks his lucky stars that you’d managed to keep your head above the water for as long as you did.

“I’ll do what I can to track her down.” He promises Douglas because the one thing the two of them can agree on is your safety.  

The storm intensifies, the wind shaking the windows of the NCIS building, the rain pelting the glass. The thunder roars and the lighting flashes and all Dwayne can think about is you, out there scared, alone.

He’s on this fourth round of calls when you force your way through the door. His head snaps up from his desk and he’s on his feet immediately. You look like hell. You’re drenched from head to toe, your clothes soaked thorough, there’s leaves twisted up in your gnarled hair and there’s a scrape on you face that definitely needs looking at.  

“Ro.” He whispers as he steps towards you. He can’t express the relief that rushes through his body at the sight of you standing there before him. He cradles your face between his hands, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “You scared the hell out of us sugar.”

“I had a neighbour, she’s elderly, she needed help.” You tell him through chattering teeth. “Once I got her squared away, I beelined for here to see what I could do to help but the storm…”

You lose your words then and Dwyane’s hands drift to your shoulders. You’re ice cold and soaked through. He’ll be lucky if you don’t go hypothermic.

The first order of business is to get you out of those wet clothes and into something warm. He sits you down in one of the plush red leather chairs in the alcove before he runs upstairs to grab a few clothes left over from the time he used to stay here. He ends up with a faded Jazz Fest t-shirt and a pair of sweats that have seen much better days.  

The lights flicker above him and he knows the two of you don’t have long before the hurricane hits. He sends you off to the bathroom to change before he sets up shop in the pantry.

Hurricane protocols instruct that you take up refuge in a small interior room on the lowest level of the building during the storm, away from windows with as many walls as possible in between you and the outside. When you step into the shelter, there’s a makeshift bed on the floor with just enough space for the two of you, a battery powered lamp and a small collection of water and snacks.

“I’m sorry.” He says as he gestures at the close proximity. “I thought I’d be here on my own, I’ve tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”

“It’s fine.” You say quietly and he thinks from your demeanour you may still be in shock from your earlier experience.

He gives you a minute to get settled before he closes the door behind the two of you, securing it the best he can. He turns on the storm light and it illuminates the small space. You’re already underneath the blankets when he climbs in alongside of you.

“It’ll probably be best to try and get some sleep.” He tells you as his cheek comes to rest on the pillow. “They’ll be a lot of work to do after the storm.”

There’s an intimacy in this he hasn’t anticipated. He’s done his best over the past few months to keep his distance from you but it all comes down to this. He’s about to spend the night, sleeping next to the woman he loves.

You’re still shaking, he realises, whether it’s from the cold or the anxiety of this whole situation he isn’t sure.

“Ro.” He says softly. “What do you need?”

A flush creeps across your cheeks and he can’t help but reach out and brush your damp hair away from your features.

“Can you…” You trail off because it’s such an embarrassing thing to ask of the man whose supposed to be your boss. “Can you just hold me? I need…”

To be warm…

To feel safe.

“I can do that.” He whispers as he gathers you up close, tucking you in against his form.

You can feel the heat of his body emitting through your t-shirt as you bury your face into the curve of his neck and Dwayne he inhales sharply at the sensation because being with you like this, it does things to a man. He tunes into the sound of your breathing, the even raise and fall of your chest, you’re starting to drift off now, he can feel you relaxing against him.

“You’re safe Ro.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your hairline. “You’re safe right here with me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lowkeychenle]

the hardest part [ZCL] (M) fic teaser

Description: You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (please see content warnings)

Content Warnings: death of a close friend, survivor's guilt, lots of what-if scenarios, navigating life without someone you've always had around, mental break downs, panic attacks (not vividly described AS panic attacks), two people coming together to heal from grief, explicit sexual content (unprotected sex, oral sex, mentions of sex, etc. although it's not super crazy so do with that what you will)

Release Date: 6.5.2024

Expected Word Count: 15-20k (maybe less?)

Teaser Word Count: 796

Taglist: Open!! Please let me know if you'd like to be added.

Permanent Taglist: @sunnybutcloudy @neozon3nha @waffleuvs

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!reader (featuring OC by the name of Jay)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

When nightfall comes, you and Chenle go to your separate rooms. He bids you goodnight, and you close your door. You sit on the edge of the bed and take in the room around you. Everything has changed immensely since the last time you were in your hometown. Your best friend bought a house, and you’d barely even thought or heard about it. Pride in him surges through you, but for a moment, you think it may be misplaced.

You don’t deserve to be proud of someone you’ve failed to talk to as often as you should have. Losing Jay has torn your world apart, and you still don’t truly believe it. You change into your tank top and shorts, and then grab your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag.

You’re on your way to the bathroom when you find Chenle in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and bringing a glass of water up to his lips. He gives you a tired nod.

“You’re still up?”

“Sleep on a day like this?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll probably have some crazy ass dream or something.”

You forget your adventure to his bathroom and approach the kitchen island. Without a word between the two of you, he goes into the cupboard to get you a cup as well. He fills it with water and slides it across the countertop.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods once and crosses his arms over his chest. “How’s life going, though? Current events aside.”

“Life is a constant revolving door of work,” you tell him. “Working my way up the corporate ladder and all that bullshit they spew.”

“You look good. As long as you’re getting all the things you wanted, I’m good, too.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

“Kind of debating if it was worth it at this point.” You sigh. “I’m proud of you, by the way. Buying a house on your own is a big deal.”

“Family business money.”

“You work. You earned it.”

“I guess that’s true. Thanks.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I’d be okay if you weren’t.”

“Like I’d ever leave you to deal with something like this alone.” You tap your fingers against the granite, admiring the swirls of color deep in the design.

“Regardless, I needed you.” Chenle gulps, glancing at his feet. “I still do. Now more than ever with Jay gone.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” you ask.

He wets his lips and takes the bottom one between his teeth. “It’s not that I thought that, necessarily, but I did wonder if you were. I didn’t hear from you, so I kind of just hoped.”

Guilt takes another stab at your heart. “Chenle, I—”

“Don’t apologize again,” he replies sternly. “Life is life. There’s no way any of us could’ve predicted this, okay? Sometimes, shit happens. Not being around a lot isn’t the end of the world.”

“It was for Jay.”

“You were not the end of the world. You didn’t kill him, for fuck’s sake. There’s nothing any of us could’ve done. And reminiscing on it like this and placing unplaceable blame on ourselves is going to make things harder.” He sets his cup in the sink.

“I know. I know that, but for some reason, my head keeps—”

“Let’s watch a movie,” he offers. “Maybe it’ll distract you a little bit.”

You agree, and go into the bathroom to brush your teeth before you follow him into his room. It’s so innately Chenle in there, you immediately feel relaxed. Some things never change, and you’re glad he’s one of those things.

“Sorry, I don’t have a TV in the living room,” he says as he pulls his covers back.

“Just roll me off if I fall asleep,” you reply, climbing onto the untouched side.

Eventually, he’s next to you, and you rest your head on his chest while he finds something to watch. He selects some random comedy movie and then shuffles to put his arm around you.

His scent is familiar, too. The world calms around you when you’re with Chenle. One out of two of your safe places has left the Earth, but luckily for you, Chenle is more than ready to play both roles.

The movie does, indeed, successfully distract you from the impending doom of everything outside. You’re able to forget, even if it’s just for a couple hours, and sink into the familiarity of your best friend.

His chest rumbles when he laughs at the screen, and the feeling has you drifting faster than you’d care to admit.

Until finally, your eyes flutter shut and stay that way, and just like that, you have the best night of sleep you’ve had all week.

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

DIN DJARIN X F!ROYAL!READER [SERIES]

summary: the princess quickly learns how skilled her protector is.

warnings: short-ish chapter. violence, sword-fighting, lots of gwaine content, unedited

<< last chapter | masterlist!

ੈ✩‧₊˚. ii. a warning *.ੈ✩‧₊˚.

You stare at the night sky with a sigh and fold the schematics back up again. You click the hidden crevice and place all your plans into the opening of the round table.

“Do you think it’s wise to keep such confidencial plans here?” Gwaine asks from his spot on the floor, near the corner by the window.

“I have nowhere else,” you give him a tight smile.

Gwaine furrows his eyebrows. “With the entire castle at your disposal?”

“You and I both know the castle is filled with people who don’t have its best interests at heart.”

“And what of Senator Dameron?”

You look at him sharply. Still on the outs with him, you can’t help but wince at the mention of his name.

“Forgive me, was I too forward?”

“No, not at all. You know Phex is like family to me. But he’s been overbearing lately. Far more so than usual. I feel like I’m suffocating.”

“He’s protecting you the only way he knows how.”

“Really? You ask him that?” You snap in a moment of sudden frustration.

Gwaine stares at you silently. The sounds of the insects reel you back in.

“I…” you sigh. “Forgive me. You don’t deserve the brunt of my frustrations.”

“You’re forgiven,” says Gwaine simply. “I understand. Or I try to understand as well as I can.”

“I know. Your council is much appreciated, Gwaine. You’re truly one of the only people I have left.”

He gives you a sad smile.

You walk over to the window, the aged wood creaking under your footsteps, one of the only structures in Eiria that pre-dated the reign of your late parents.

From here, you can see the lights of the entire city. Vibrant golden buildings, some as tall as skyscrapers you’d once seen on a trip to Coruscant.

You gaze upon your home, trying to spot your balcony from here but you were too far out.

The sound of iron against iron steals your attention away from the palace.

“Can never put down your work, can you?” You’re only teasing.

“It’s my life,” he shrugs, still sharpening the two swords he’d had strapped on his waist.

“What’d you say we get a duel in? I haven’t held a sword in months,” you sigh.

“I’d be much too frightened to fight a Princess,” Gwaine chuckles.

That’s funny, you think. You’ve knocked me on my ass more times than I can count.

“Much too frightened to lose, perhaps?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Well, winner gets the pride. Pass it over.”

Gwaine tosses a sword at you a bit recklessly. You catch it with ease.

You both circle each other, getting into position.

“Prepared to lose?” Gwaine loosens his shoulders.

“To you?” You narrow your eyes. “Never.”

You make the first move, using both hands to strike your blade against his. You don’t bother holding back, knowing Gwaine, with all his years of welding and training, could take your full strength with ease.

He effortlessly blocks your attack, hitting back with his own. You pivot, trying to throw him off but he’s too good at what he does. He’s barely breaking a sweat, but it’s great practice for you.

You’re on the offensive until he decides to take it up a notch, lunging and striking your blade with grace. You do your best to block every attack, arms aching and a sweat breaking at the crown of your head.

“I’m feeling quite prideful already,” Gwaine laughs, slicing through the air near your neck and sending you a few feet back. You’re thankful you decided to wear your trousers. The fabric of a dress would’ve caused you to trip and lose.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

You decide now’s the best time to use a trick Gwaine himself had taught you. An empty fade is what he’d called it, falsely jumping back before leaping forward to reclaim your spot on the offense.

Gwaine laughs and there’s a different type of pride in his eyes. You smile back, feeling quite proud of yourself despite your exhaustion…

If there’s one thing you know however, it’s that this duel is going to be over very soon. As competitive as you are, you knew it was never going to be a fair fight. Gwaine has an equally strong will but his skill far outmatches yours.

He proves you right, using an incredible amount of strength to knock you off your feet. A yelp escapes your lungs as you slam into the ground, his hand pressed between your shoulder blades to lessen the impact. He follows you down, keeping his body a respectable distance, but still, the false edge of his blade presses lightly against your neck.

Just as you were about to slam your hand down in defeat, eyes crinkling from amusement, a flurry of movements send your heart into near cardiac arrest.

Gwaine is thrown off of you, his blade landing by your feet and a scream of his own echoing within the abandoned tower.

You gasp, scrambling up to your feet to find Gwaine pinned against the floor with a boot to his chest. A blaster is aimed right at his head and at the other end of it…

The Mandalorian.

“Stop!” You cry in desperation, running over to the two and recklessly grabbing onto the Mandalorian’s forearm. The beskar cool against your palms.

“Gwaine is a friend. He’d never harm me. We were practicing!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even acknowledge the fingers that grip his armor tightly. He only holds the blaster even tighter, hidden eyes trained on his target.

“Consider this a warning.”

“Please—”

“Friend or not, no harm is to come to the Princess under my watch.”

Gwaine looks between the blaster, the Mandalorian’s other hand which was resting on some hidden weapon on his back, and you.

Slowly, he nods and by some miracle, the Mandalorian lowers his weapon, finally turning towards you.

His helmet makes a subtle up and down movement and you stare back into the black visor, heart still racing uncontrollably. You tear your hand away from his arm, realizing your death grip was hurting you more than him.

You kneel by your friend. The Mandalorian’s words replay in your head.

“Your watch? Where the hell were you all this time? Gwaine and I have been out here for hours,” you say as you help Gwaine up.

“I haven’t left your side since this morning,” the Mandalorian says tonelessly. His blaster is still in a tight grip by his leg.

“Is that so?” You ask sarcastically, but really you’re having a small internal panic. Had he been following you this entire time? Were you really that unobservant?

Or maybe the Mandalorian was much better at this job than you originally gave him credit for.

“It is, Your Highness. I must insist we return to the palace now. It’s just before midnight.”

You suppress a groan, grabbing Gwaine’s sword off the ground and handing both back to him reluctantly. The Mandalorian stands by the creaky staircase expectantly, helmet trained on you.

You give Gwaine an apologetic look, feeling horrible about your protector manhandling your oldest friend in such a way.

He smiles at you as if to tell you that he’s fine. It doesn’t ease your guilt.

With heavy feet, you begin to drag yourself to the exit, walking past the Mandalorian with a heavy throat.

Your fun was over, overshadowed by his abrupt and violent entrance. Your anger with him was simmering away however, knowing he was just doing his job… In some ways, you find yourself relieved someone so qualified is looking after you. Especially with the rumorous threats to your life lately.

“Fed your horse by the way.”

Both you and Gwaine jerk back in surprise, staring at the Mandalorian as if he grew another head.

“Nyla’s a nice name.” He adds casually. As if he wasn’t showing you the first signs of humanity since he arrived.

You look over the Mandalorian’s shoulder, who’s behind you at the top of the stairs — you’d only taken one step down — and make eye contact with Gwaine. His eyes are as wide as yours.

You whip back around, taking two steps at a time. Against your best efforts, an amused grin spreads from cheek to cheek.

Maybe the Mandalorian wasn’t just a faceless hunk of armor after all.

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[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 13: Blessings In Disguise

Still no sign of Thomas. He’s still asleep, and the memory of our last encounter still runs a chill down my spine. Is he still upset? I didn’t intend to make him mad but he has to understand that it’s his own doing that’s digging him this hole of chaos. 

“Eat up, Finn,” I urge as I pass him some eggs. 

The young Shelby does quick work to devour his breakfast and goes to grab his hat.

“Whoa, whoa! Where’s the fire?” 

“‘M late for something,” he replies before dashing out the door.

I guess there’s never a quiet moment in this house-

“Morning.”

As I said. Never quiet.

“Morning, Mr. Shelby,” I answer quietly as Thomas steps in. His tone is much less gruff that I expected. Maybe he’s forgotten-

“About yesterday…”

He didn’t forget.

“You don’t decide my life, Steenstra. Same as how I don’t decide yours. Are we square?”

I sigh heavily and loom up at him with concerned eyes. “I know. You bring this on yourself, whether you might want it or not. I will apologize, so long as you apologize for letting your temper loose.”

The Peaky Blinder’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me? You want me to say sorry for yelling? Are you really that soft?”

Bam!

I slam my own fist onto the table and Thomas reaches for his pistol.

“That’s what it feels like, Thomas. To step on eggshells, not knowing what little thing might set the gunpowder off. What might set you off.”

Those blue eyes’ cold stare softens and I think he gets my point.

“I’m sorry,” I start.

Thomas nods. “I’m s-”

Just then John walks in. “Tommy! What gives?” He gestures to the gun and Thomas slips it back into its holster. “Tell her what happened, eh? We’ve got leverage, Verena! Met with some new partners at the Garrison yesterday.”

“Billy Kimber himself even made an appearance,” Thomas says.

Kimber? I thought I heard Polly call that bloke a piece of bad news. 

“Might have an alliance forming,” John agrees.

“You’re playing with fire,” I scold lightly and start to roll out more bread dough.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Thomas walk over and whisper smugly: “I don’t catch fire. Fire catches me, love.”

John rolls his eyes at his stupid pun and walks off towards the office. I expect Thomas to follow but instead he sits down and takes a drink. How is this man still alive from all this whiskey?

“Something’s wrong. What are you stressed about, hm? You look like you’re about to explode.”

Thomas sighs and pinches his forehead. “Ada and Freddie are still here.”

“So?” One would think Ada and Freddie’s close location would be a good thing, or at least that’s what my family is like. We all stick close to the same spot.

“I made a deal with the copper that he’d be run out of town.”

I dust the flower off my hands and gesture to Thomas. “Like I said. Playing with fire. Between that, the guns, and this Kimber fellow, I don’t know who’s going to kill you first.”

The blue-eyed gangster looks up at me with a teasing gaze. “You’d be sad to see that, eh?”

“It’d mean I lose my job.”

Yes, I would be sad to see Thomas dead. It’s sad to see anybody dead. After the trust I’ve earned from him it’s not easy to ignore my growing attachment. Mother always says my feelings are what trips me up. Either I lash out to establish my pride or have an overabundance of attachment for people I barely know. I got that from father. He can make friends with anyone.

“Do you have any work for me today, Mr. Shelby?”

“You’ve done enough this week. Take a day off.”

He doesn’t mean just housework. Throughout the week Polly’s been showing me the ropes of banking and record keeping for the Peaky Blinders. Thank God I’m halfway decent at basic math or I’d be sunk, though I do admit having to shift to British currency is a tricky reminder.

“Thank you, sir.”

I know exactly what I’m doing for my day off. After Thomas leaves for Lord knows what business I finish prepping the bread and set it out to rise before leaving the house myself. Thankfully Campbell’s been keeping out of my hair and bothering Thomas instead so I shouldn’t have any predicaments pop up.

The church is one of the only places here I can find a sense of peace. The afternoon sun glinting through the clouds casts warm shadows through the stained glass windows. The only offsetting about this scene is the person I spot in the back of the pews. Never once have I pictured Arthur Shelby as a religious man.

“You come here too?” I ask as I approach him and sit in the aisle across.

Arthur glares down at me. “You think I’m out of place?”

I shake my head to show no hostility. “Everyone is welcomed in the house of God. I just never expected you to walk in. Something wrong?”

He grunts and looks away. “Private stuff. You’re just the help.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean my job defines me as a person. We don’t have to talk about what’s wrong, I’m just here if anyone feels like talking.”

With that I leave him to be with his thoughts and kneel to pray. Lord, these are good people who happen to be faced with rough situations. If you could please allow them just a brief peace of mind I would be most grateful-

“I still don’t know how you got Tommy to trust you.”

I look up at the oldest Shelby brother. His face has changed to one of a tired man, one who’s worn down.

“People keep asking me questions that I don’t know the answers to. All about Ada, the Black Swan Paddy, something about guns and the BSA.”

Ada I understand. As for the other two I haven’t heard a thing about them. Obviously the Paddy wasn’t a member of Uncle Colon’s family or else I would recognize him.

“Your family has a strong role in this community. That is an honorable position but also one that comes with high responsibility. You probably expect me to say some nonsense about ‘good things come to those who wait’ and all that. That can be true. But between you and your brothers I know you’re not patient enough to wait. So I will say this: no one has the answers for everything, Mr. Shelby. Try as we might there are always unanswered questions. To some that might seem scary, but I like to think of it as a chance to put faith in God. Whatever the plan is, I can’t control it. Neither of us can. So only worry about the small things you can control now.” I stand up and gesture to the church. “Can you do anything about suppressing rumors right here, right now?”

Arthur slumps in his seat. “No.”

“Then don’t stress over it. I know that won’t help much but mind tricks have a way of improving tricky circumstances.”

A few moments go by as Arthur thinks through my advice. Honestly I don’t even know where all of this wisdom is suddenly pouring from me. Sometimes my brothers say that just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean they’re smarter. Not by a long shot. But what sense does it make for a random American woman to have to teach such things to criminal gangsters?

“You seem to have a lot of hope,” Arthur says after a while.

The hint of a smile at the corners of his mustache is payment enough. “Even in this gloomy place, there is always a sliver of hope if one is willing to look hard enough, Mr. Shelby.”

“You know, you’re alright, Steenstra. Suppose I pegged you as any other loud-mouth ditsy broad that skips across the pond.”

My own smile tugs at my lips though I do well to suppress my joy. There. Now all of my employers don’t hate me. 

“Hello.”

Arthur and I both glance over at Thomas, who’s standing in the doorway.

“Never expected you two to become chummy.”

My eyes narrow in consideration. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Thomas lets out a grunt and goes on to sit next to Arthur. “Well on that note, I’m here to talk to my brother. So would you mind…?”

“Not in the slightest.” I stand up and give a nod to Arthur. “Feel better, Mr. Shelby.”

Thomas’ nose scrunches. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” I reply and pivot to walk back down the aisle. Have I forgotten his temper tantrum? No I have not. 

For the rest of my day off I finish baking my bread and even a few batches of cookies for John. Once that’s done I decide to try and find a park of sorts. 

“There’s a small patch of grass that’s considered a park on the other side of town,” Polly says when I ask her. “Though keep your wits about. There’s trouble there for unescorted women.”

I flash her the pistol tucked into my skirt. “That’s why I'm bringing this little helper.”

“Smart girl.”

It’s been nearly a month since the Shelbys have taken me in. Whenever I ask Polly about my debt toll she never gives me a straight answer. Part of me is starting to suspect she doesn't want me to leave so soon. Between Thomas and Ada’s words of praise I’m beginning to think me being stuck here is a blessing in disguise. Over the past weeks I’ve gotten a feel of the land so Polly’s directions steer me right to my destination. And she’s right. This is no park. This place makes Central Park look like the Smoky Mountains! But a walk in the park is a walk in the… patch of grass? Whatever. I’m outside, that’s what counts.

“Polly said you’d be here,” a voice calls from behind.

Is Thomas stalking me? Jesus, is being his go-to for venting make him this- this… watchful? Does he think I’ll tell someone?

“Come to scorn me for doing what you can’t?” When Thomas cocks his head in confusion I fill in the blanks. “Me helping your brother?”

He pats my shoulder and pulls out a cigarette. “I told him not to worry.”

That’s it? “You know you can’t just slap a bandaid on something like this and expect people to be ok. Your brother’s been through a lot, as have you. Nobody should go on keeping secrets in their own family.”

“I made up for it,” Thomas replies lazily. “I bought him a pub. He seemed excited.”

A pub? That’s wonderful! A distraction is just what Arthur needs. If he’s as excited as Thomas says, this will be good for both him and the Peaky Blinders.

I stop walking and look up at Thomas with a bewildered smile. “Just when I think all emotion has been drained out of you, you still surprise me, Thomas.”

He squints. “You call me that. I notice you haven’t been addressing me as ‘Mr. Shelby.’”

“You said we were on a first name basis,” I shrug. “Would you rather I return to calling you Mr. Shelby? It’s kind of confusing when there’s four of you.”

“Oh no, love. A first-name basis is just fine.”

[damn-stark]

Chapter 6 The white wolf & The white dragon

Chapter 6 of Sandstorm

A/N- since it’s my birthday I released it earlier. Also I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTER, some things are gonna change from what’s on the show, be ready!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, ANGST, slowburn, talks of pregnancy and abortian.

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 8x02 & only small part of 8x03

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

What is a lion without its pride?

Nothing but a lonely wanderer vulnerable to other lurking predators.

That’s what Jaime is now, nothing without his sister or father to keep him from death.

“When I was child, my brother would tell me a bedtime story,” Daenerys interjects in such a venomous tone that frightens you for obvious reasons. “About the man who murdered our father.”

Yeah because he was such a great guy. Please.

“Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the Iron Throne and watched as his blood poured onto the floor,” she continues. “He told me other stories as well. About all the things we would do to that man once we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp. Your sister pledged to send her army north.”

Jaime nods, “she did.”

Daenerys scoffs. “I don’t see an army. I see one man, with one hand. It appears your sister lied to us.”

Yeah well is anyone really surprised? You definitely aren't.

“She lied to me as well,” Jaime interjects. “She had no intention of sending her army North. She has Euron Greyjoy’s fleet and 20,000 fresh troops. The Golden Company from Essos, bought and paid for…”

You scoff at the sound of his words that only proved your concern right about not trusting her.

You look over at Jon to share your proud look after being right, but just as he feels your gaze and looks, he quickly averts his gaze and stiffens.

Did something happen between last night and this morning? He never came to your chambers at night like he said he would, he didn’t attempt to talk to you earlier either, he’s been…cold, distant.

Maybe the news of the baby did actually upset him now that he’s had time to really think about it.

And if he is, he only needs to say the word…

“We?” You catch Daenerys snap back to something Jaime had said.

“I promised to fight for the living,” Jaime explains to her, “I intend to keep that promise.”

Daenerys looks over at you, and you slowly look over at her to share the same angered look.

“Your Grace, I know my brother,” Tyrion cuts in, causing you to snap your gaze over to him and snap back.

“Like you knew your sister? You don’t get to speak on this matter. He is your brother.”

Tyrion lowers his gaze and sighs deeply before continues regardless. “He came here alone, knowing full well how he’d be received. Why would he do that if he weren’t telling the truth?”

“Perhaps, he trusts his little brother to defend him, right up to the moment he slits my throat, or stabs my family through the back.” Daenerys counters spitefully.

“You’re right,” Sansa pitches in. “We can’t trust him. He attacked my father in the streets. He tried to destroy my house and my family, the same as he did yours.”

“Don’t you want me to apologize?” Jaime interrupts, making you furrow your eyebrows and narrow your gaze deeper. “I won’t,” he continues. “We were at war. Everything I did, I did for my house and my family. I’d do it all again.”

You scoff before you lean forward on your chair and clasps your hands on the table to then interject. “So you’re saying you’d break your promises, sacred oaths? You would let my family get killed all over again? All for what?” You spat. “Three seconds of glory?”

“The King was mad, he would have—”

“I don’t give a shit about King Aerys,” you cut Jaime off, and earn a side glare from Daenerys. “He was a cruel man. Mean to his own kin. It’s said my own father planned to overthrow him. So I don’t care about that old fucking King, I am talking about my family, my mother, my five year old sister and baby brother, Ser Jaime.” You slowly stand up as you begin to scowl. “The ones you promised to protect,” you continue to spat, causing Jaime to blink rapidly and go rigid as you catch him off guard with your comment.

“Tell me,” you say and lift your chin to look down at him. “Tyrion Lannister, what is it that happened to my family? What is it that your father order happen? What is it that Ser Jaime Lannister let happen?”

Tyrion clears his throat, “I wasn’t there, Princess.”

“Say it,” Daenerys commands him.

Tyrion let’s out a deep sigh and parts his lips to speak, “it’s said that…the Mountain smashed prince Aegon's skull in the wall in front of his mother. That Princess Rhaenys was dragged from under her fathers bed and stabbed fifty times…and that Princess Elia was…raped and murdered.”

You hum and tilt your head as you keep holding Jaime’s stare. “Yes,” you mutter. “So Ser Jaime, would you let that happen again? Would you break that promise?”

Jaime’s gaze falls, and now he has nothing to say back in his own defense. It makes you proud that you can cause such an effect on such a proud man, that you can leave him speechless.

“The things we do for love,” Bran suddenly interjects, making everyone around the table including you to look at him.

And he doesn’t add anything else to his comment, he just awkwardly leaves it at that; Jaime doesn’t say anything either, so you just take a seat and let out a small sigh to try and keep the bad memories away.

“So why have you abandoned your house and family now?” Daenerys asks.

“Because this goes beyond loyalty,” Jaime responds and glances at his side. When you follow his line of gaze you see him looking at Lady Brienne—“this is about survival.”

You hum at his comment and sit back in your chair, catching in that moment Lady Brienne stands up.

“You don’t know me well, Your Grace, Princess,” Lady Brienne adds and walks to the center. “But I know Ser Jaime. He is a man of honor. I was his captor once. But when we were both taken prisoner and the men holding us tried to force themselves on me, Ser Jaime defended me. And lost his hand because of it. Without him, my Lady, you would not be alive,” she says and glances over at Sansa. “He armed me, armored me, and sent me to find you and bring you home because he swore an oath to your mother.”

You break your gaze away from Lady Brienne to drift your gaze to Sansa, seeing her gaze drop and her face express distraught.

“You vouch for him?” Sansa queries and blinks to look at Lady Brienne.

“I do,” she says.

“You would fight beside him?”

“I would,” Lady Brienne says with confidence, making you feel…indifferent about her. Not in a bad way, just different. Maybe more respect for her.

“I trust you with my life,” Sansa continues. “If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay.”

Daenerys snaps her head in Sansa’s direction with disbelief, wanting blood as revenge and not pardon.

“What do you say about this Princess?” Daenerys asks you as she looks ahead at the man in trial.

You blink and look at Jaime too, you play Lady Brienne’s words in your mind, as well as Sansa’s. Even if anger wants to get the best of you, even if you crave to also burn him alive, you step back and don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment. You couldn’t.

“If Lady Sansa vouches for Lady Brienne,” you interject with a sigh. “Then…I second it. He can stay. Besides, we will need men for the battle to come. I do hope you keep your promise now, Ser Jaime.”

Daenerys shoots you another side glare before she hesitates for a moment, and then finally adds her last word. “Very well.” She then looks over at Greyworm standing at the other end of the table, and with her look alone, he grabs Jaime’s sword to hand it back to him.

The meeting is disbanded after that, Jaime bows and gives his thanks to the Queen, and Sansa leaves the hall first. Daenerys turns to look at you, but you quickly avert her gaze and look at Jon. Yet he hardly meets your gaze before he walks past you without a single word. He just leaves. Daenerys leaves after that, leaving you to stand alone at table with two options, walk after her and argue about this affair, or go after Jon and interrogate his weird behavior.

Yet as much…as you care for Daenerys, he means more to you. So you go after him.

Thankfully he doesn’t make it far, but when you see him down the hall you do see him talking to Sansa.

“Princess,” she greets and ends whatever it is she was talking about with Jon when she spots you approaching. “Or should I call you sis—” she cuts herself off as she catches Jon’s pointed glare due to her lack of discretion. “Princess,” she corrects herself with a teasing smirk.

You stop just beside them and glance at Jon one more time before you meet his sister's gaze and greet her back.

“Lady Stark.”

“I admire your choice,” Sansa says. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy. And for that I’m sorry.”

You clasp your hands together and offer her a gentle smile. “Thank you, and it wasn’t easy. But my uncle Doran, would say not to let my vengeance cloud my judgment. No matter how much I wanted Ser Jaime to burn alive.” You scoff. “Besides I also like to think about Rhaenar, what my actions teach him.”

Sansa hums and offers you a kind smile. “I like that.”

You shoot her a smile. “Thank you,” you mutter.

“Hm…” she trails off and looks between her brother and you before she continues. “Well, I will leave you two be.” She begins to smirk and steps back. “I hope we can talk later, Y/N, so you can show me your dress.”

You smile wider and nod eagerly. “Of course, I would love that.”

Sansa smiles softly one more time before she turns and walks away. Once you can no longer see her anymore you look to your betrothed and add a comment hoping that can break this weird tension. “She seems excited.”

Jon hums and slowly meets your gaze with a very strained smile. “I haven’t seen her this excited in a long time, so maybe I should thank you.”

You scoff and shake your head as you feel flustered by his comment. “I try my best,” you tease him, and earn a more genuine smile. But even then he can barely hold your gaze, so you immediately probe and don’t hold back anymore.

“What's wrong? You’ve been distant, kind of cold, did something happen?” You want to ask about the baby, but it’s dangerous to ask in such a public hall.

Jon knows that and grabs your hand to walk you down more stone halls, past doors, down steps, until finally he reaches his chambers and walks you in there. When he closes the door though he remains quiet, distant still.

“Jon,” you whisper and keep your distance. “What’s wrong? If this is about the ceremony we can have it some other day…” you blink and sigh. “And if it’s about the baby then…the maester said I should talk to him soon if I change my mind.” You flicker your eyes up and see him averting his gaze.

“Jon,” you whisper and finally approach him. “Please talk to me.” You grab his hands and he finally blinks and meets your gaze with a deep frown and a melancholy look that makes you catch your breath.

“It’s not about the baby…” he says. “It’s about me….Sam told me about my true parentage last night.”

Has he been brooding about that? Is that why he never went to your room?

“Really?” You sigh with relief. “That’s good. I mean…right?”

Jon swallows thickly and continues without expressing any sort of happiness. “My mother,” he says. “My mother is Lyanna Stark….”

Your own relief begins to dwindle and your heart strings begin to twist as you wait for the next part, the part of the father…because there’s so many answers that can be said.

“And my father. My true father is…Rhaegar Targaryen.”

You blink in disbelief and pull your hands away from Jon’s as you feel your heart sink to your stomach at the sound of his revelation, at the meaning behind it.

Rhaegal…that explains that.

And your father…he…While you and your family were trapped in the Red Keep belittled by the man he called father, he was out having a child with her….he was…what? Enjoying his life? Breaking his vows to your mother?

“I know—”

“What?” You cut him off sharply with tears stinging your eyes as you held them back. “Did they marry, or did he take advantage of her? Can Sam tell you that?”

Jon sighs and averts his gaze. “They married,” he whispers.

Stupid fucking bastard.

Your mother, Aegon, Rhaenys, they died, you almost died because he was chasing after some younger woman. Because he preferred her.

“I’m sorry,” he says as if he’s the one to blame for the discretions of his father and mother.

And maybe you should blame him too, hate him because he was born out of that love they kept a secret. But in all honesty…maybe you’re a fool because you can’t…you can’t bring yourself to hate him, only them.

“It’s not your fault,” you assure him quickly and meet his gaze without tears brimming your eyes. You just can’t cry or get angry about this subject in front of him.

Also there’s matters to consider now, like how Jon is your half sibling….

Not like it bothers you whatsoever though. By law he is still a bastard, marriage or not his mothers marriage to Rhaegar doesn’t count. The people are probably willing to turn the blind eye just to have him be King, but if they follow the law then the marriage doesn’t matter. Plus, he wasn’t raised by Rhaegar, he only knew of his true father until last night, so it shouldn’t bother him—then again people from the North are different, they don’t share the same…morals you do as a Valyrian.

“So…then does it bother you?” You ask and go serious. “That we share the same father?”

Jon lets out a deep sigh and walks past you to watch the flames dance in the fireplace. You turn and watch him brood for a second before you walk after him, but keep your distance for his own sake.

“He never raised me, I never even met him,” Jon argues. “Ned Stark raised me, he is my father, but…”

He’s going to say he can’t isn’t he?

“…doesn't it bother you?” He suddenly asks and turns around to face you with his face contorted in that same sad look he always seems to carry.

You blink and look at the floor as you clasps your hands together. “Rhaegar may be blood of my blood, we may share the same name, he may be the reason why I am here, but I don’t respect him.” You look at Jon and face him with tears in your eyes now.

You just can’t hold them back.

“He’s the reason I don't have my mom, my sister, my brother, he’s the reason I had to escape home,” you continue. “He destroyed my life…he will never have my respect. My uncles are the father he never could be. So no, it doesn’t bother me…but you,” you utter unsurely. “You can’t just stay with me because of the baby, I can’t make you do that, so tell me the truth, be honest, does it bother you?” You ask with a fearful gaze.

Jon lets out a deep breath and keeps his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he looks at your belly, and then drops his gaze.

Out of fear of his response, of his reaction, you begin to fiddle with your rings and hold your breath in hopes he doesn’t break what you do have, that he doesn’t break the promise of an eternal life together.

“Why don’t you care?” He mutters and meets your gaze. “Knowing who I am means I am now a threat to Daenerys, to you and Rhaenar.”

“Right now?” You say softly. “Because my love for you means much more than a stupid iron throne.” You breathe out shakily and see his eyes soften. “If you were to tell me to leave it all behind, if you asked me to stop fighting and have a life here, I would. It all means nothing without you. I don’t want to lose you. That’s why.”

“I am not Stark, not really, nor am I a Targaryen, I don’t think I would ever consider myself that. I have no reason to go against Daenerys or you, nor do I want you to stop fighting because of me,” he says and takes a step closer to you, making your heart finally begin to unclench. “So…no…it doesn’t bother me. I don’t want to lose you. Or our family.”

You smile softly yet you don’t find relief yet as you do remember about your other problem.

“And what about Daenerys?” You press seriously. “Will you tell her?”

Jon sighs and nods hesitantly. “I have to. I’d rather she hear it from me. So please let me talk to her.”

You nod as you find trust in his words, only because you don’t want to face her wrath when she finds out. It’s a miracle she accepted you to be at her side knowing you are her brother's offspring, “the rightful heir”.

Then again it’s not like she had any other blood family besides Rhaenar and you…she’d be foolish not to let you in.

“All right,” you sigh but squeeze in one last question. “And your family?”

“I’ll talk to them too. Soon.”

You let out a relieved breath and let your eyes linger on him for a moment before you both give in to desire and close the gap and crash your lips together. He grabs your waist, and you grab his cheeks and linger in the feeling. As he does too.

Your heart flutters, and your body finally untenses as you’re no longer frozen with fear.

“So,” you whisper against his lips. “Am I still wearing that dress or should I look for someone else to marry? The Baratheon bastard isn’t so bad on the eyes, hm.”

Jon scoffs in distaste. “Yes, the ceremony is still happening, I’m still going to marry you.”

You grin softly and tilt your head as you caress his cheek.

“Rhaenar is excited,” you mention. “I told him last night, he’s excited to present me to you.”

Jon smiles softly. “That’s good.”

You hum and let your eyes linger on him for a moment longer before you pull away from him. “I need to go to my chambers and do some stuff. Maybe rest for a bit.”

Jon's eyes instantly express concern as he glances down. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You nod. “I am. These early stages are just hard, so I need to rest for a moment.”

Jon caresses your cheek and nods in comprehension. “All right. I should go too before people come looking for me.”

You press one last kiss on his lips before you pull away again for good this time and leave without another word. He doesn’t follow, nor does he ask to walk you—not like you want him to walk you. You want to be alone. You need to be alone. The anger you feel for your father still burns fiercely within you, the truth still hurts you. The realization of what happened after he left stabs deeper into your heart, welling your eyes with more and more tears the closer you get to your room.

Yet you don’t let those tears out in the hall, you clench your jaw and breathe heavily. You don’t run to try and reach the intimacy of your room faster, you just stride there quickly and see every bit of your surroundings blurry.

That is until you reach your room. Those tears you held back come out as an angry sob, and those deep breaths begin to tremble. All you want to do is lay down and cry, cry until you can't shed another tear. Yet right away you’re reminded of something you had held dear to your heart.

You swipe a blade from your desk and storm over to the end of your room to uncover your fathers painting.

And now as you see his face, as you see his eyes, all you feel is utter disgust and burning fiery. That spark that was the love you held for him was completely blown out leaving nothing. Not even the good memories you cherished. Nothing.

So it’s easy stabbing the blade through his face, it’s relieving slicing the stupid painting over and over again until his face can no longer be put together, until it’s no longer recognizable. And not an ounce of guilt hits you when you grab it and examine the damage. You actually smile as tears come out of your eyes.

“I will get whatever you never could, father ” you mutter to the shredded painting. “For me. For my mother, my sister, my brother. Not you. Never you,” you spat and lift your gaze to watch the flames dance in your own fireplace.

The flames brighten your eyes and the smirk on your face.

“I hope you’re burning in all seven hells,” you grimace before you throw the painting in the flames.

You wipe the tears off your face and watch the painting wither away until there’s nothing but ashes. After that you clear your throat and walk over to look at yourself in the vanity.

Your face is red, and your eyes still gleam from the tears you had shed. The heartbreak is clear. Luckily, the coldness disguises your redness as simply that. And the heartbreak that is so clearly featured within your gaze can just be worry.

And people believe that, when you step out in search of Rhaenar no one bats an eye, not even those who you had traveled with. Not even Rhaenar himself.

Then again you wouldn’t let them see you down, they can’t see you down. And as of your son, well he was busy reading with Ser Jorah.

“Am I interrupting?” You make yourself known.

Both Ser Jorah and Rhaenar look back at you, and the boy quickly smiles, but doesn’t ask any questions.

It’s good though, to tell him the truth about his grandfather is something you don’t need him to know yet.

“Mother!” He greets you happily. “And no you’re not, Ser Jorah was just helping me with my studies.”

Ser Jorah stands up and nods as he smiles timedly. “A good prince needs to be well taught of his country's history.”

You nod in agreement. “Yes. Even if that boy doesn’t much like to study.”

The orange dragon, Helios, flaps to the little boy's shoulder and tilts his head as he sees you.

“Well,” Rhaenar scoffs. “There are better things to do.”

You roll your eyes and Ser Jorah chuckles quietly.

“I hope I can take my son if that’s okay,” you interject.

Ser Jorah nods right away. “Of course, Princess. We have been studying for quite some time, he deserves a short break.”

You hum and step aside to watch Rhaenar run out of the library with his dragon on his shoulder. You offer Ser Jorah a small smile before you follow your son out to the hall and begin to lead him towards the chambers where the dragon eggs are kept.

“Mother,” Rhaenar asks as you walk down the hall. “Why is it…” he pauses and lets out a deep sigh. “Why is it that the people here don’t like talking to me? I mean the Stark’s do, but the others, their people…they give me weird looks all the time, and all the other kids avoid me, even when Helios isn’t with me.”

You blink rapidly in disbelief and swallow thickly.

All the dirty looks, the looks full of judgment and hate is something you noticed, but after riding here you just ignored them, there was no point. And it’s like Jon says, they’ll warm up with time.

Yet hearing that Rhaenar gets those same looks, hearing that he’s been avoided because of who he is, what he looks like lights an anger within you that is unlike any other.

However, you can’t let that grow bigger. No matter how much it tempted you.

“Well,” you mutter as you come up with a good answer. “People here don’t normally see people like us. That’s all.” You glance at him and see him stare down as he listens to your every word. “You just need to give them time, okay? Continue to be kind like you are already, and if anyone dares to say anything tell me right away.”

Rhaenar looks up at you and gives you a partial smile as he nods in agreement. “All right,” he whispers. He then blinks and begins to smile. “When are Sarella and Elia coming? I want to see them. I want them to see Helios.”

You scoff softly, “soon.”

The chamber now stands dead ahead, and two Unsullied stand guard out the door. It’s a miracle Daenerys didn’t keep them in her quarters, she took them as if they were actually hers, when it wasn’t even her dragon who birthed them.

“Why are we here?” Rhaenar asks as the guards grant you access. “Did one of them hatch?!” He exclaims and runs to the heating pots. Yet when he opens them he finds both of them still over the kindling. “Oh.”

You clasps your hands in front of you and make sure that you don’t hear anyone approaching before you interject, “if you could pick between the blue or the silver one, which one would you pick? Hm?” You ask and slowly walk to the end of the table.

Rhaenar lifts his head and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Mother,” he mutters, whilst his dragons hops on the table to approach the pots. “I already have a dragon.”

You scoff softly and nod. “I know that,” you tell him. “But if you could pick one for someone else, which one would you pick, hm?” You begin to smile wider and slowly put your hands over your belly.

Rhaenar blinks and keeps still for a second before he turns on his heels to examine both dragon eggs.

He looks at the one that gleams silver, and then looks at the blue one that gleams like a beautiful sapphires. His dragon leans his head in the pot of the blue one, and doesn’t even react to the steam that blows out.

“I suppose,” Rhaenar says slowly and walks towards the blue dragon egg. “This one. The blue one.”

You grin and hum. “That’s a good one. I know it will be a beautiful dragon.”

Rhaenar blinks and looks up at you to meet your gaze. “Why do you ask?” He probes.

You peer back at the closed door and hear if anyone is approaching. When you hear no approaching footsteps you walk to him and begin to whisper so the guards won’t hear.

Alas, maybe you should have checked, because sometimes there are steps that aren’t heard echoing on the ground when someone wants to be discreet.

“Well…I recently discovered something…soon enough, in nine months or so, you will be a big brother.” You begin to fiddle with your rings and watch him lower his gaze as he thinks of what you said.

“A brother,” he whispers and hums before he lifts his gaze and slowly begins to smile before he wraps his arms around you.

You sigh in relief before you giggle and immediately return his embrace. “Does that make you happy?” You ask.

Rhaenar nods and pulls his head back to meets your gaze. “Yes! Yes! It means I finally won't have to be alone. And I can ride my dragon alongside my brother.”

You scoff. “My Sunspot, we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet. Not until it’s born.”

Rhaenar shrugs. “It doesn’t matter! It means I will have someone to talk to.”

Hearing him not be disappointed over the news makes you happy. For so long he’s been the only child that you worried he’d take the news badly. Then he still doesn’t know who you’re with.

That’s what he realizes now too.

“And…” he lowers his voice as his smile begins to fade. “Who is the baby’s father? Is it Jon? Is that why you’re getting married?”

You smile softly and nod. “Yes. That’s one of the reasons.”

Rhaenar grins again and jumps back to look at the blue egg. “That’s good. I like Jon. He’s very nice.”

“Yes,” you agree, “he is, isn't he?”

“Can I show him the egg I chose for my brother?”

You roll your eyes and scoff at his insistence, but don’t correct him anymore. “Yes, you can.”

“And aunt Dany! I’m sure she’ll love to know—”

“No,” you snap and crouch down to grab his shoulder and turn him not face you. “You may not tell her or anyone else, not even any of the Stark’s. Jon will tell his family, I will tell ours when the time is right.”

Rhaenar goes serious and quickly nods in agreement. “Yes, mother.”

“Swear to me,” you insist. “Swear you won’t say a word. I’ll tell you when you can speak of it. Okay?”

The boy sighs and nods in comprehension.

“Good,” you sigh. “Now let’s go. There’s plenty to do, and people will come look for us.”

Alas, just as you walk out of the room you catch Jon approaching the room. When he spots the both of you he stops and faces you with a sad look on his face, as if he just received the most terrible news.

“What is it?” You ask right away as you approach him.

Jon lets out a sigh and mutters, “the dead are coming.”

——

“They’re coming. We have dragon glass and Valyrian steel. But there are too many of them. Far too many. Our enemy doesn’t tire. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t feel….”

Perhaps illusion is what kept you thinking they’d somehow take months to get here, blinding illusion. But they’re here now. Only hours away. And with their arrival the plans to marry are foiled.

Which is probably something stupid to be angry over, but it was a beautiful desire.

“We can’t beat them in a straight fight,” Jon continues to say to those gathered around the table.

“So what can we do?” Jaime asks.

“The Night King made them all. They follow his command. If he falls…getting to him may be our best chance.”

You sigh and clasps your hands together to begin fiddling with your rings as you interject, “if that’s true, he’ll never expose himself.”

“Yes, he will,” Bran cuts in, making everyone look over at him by the fireplace. “He’ll come for me. He’s tried before, many times, with many Three-Eyed Ravens.”

Whatever that’s supposed to really mean.

“Why?” Sam asks what everyone is thinking. “What does he want?”

“An endless night,” Bran answers, creating chills down your spines. “He wants to erase this world, and I am it’s memory.”

You swallow thickly and begin to clench your hands to fists.

“That’s what death is, isn’t it?” Sam continues to say. “Forgetting.” He looks around the table, and you all slowly look at him. “Being forgotten. If we forget where we’ve been and what we’ve done, we’re not men anymore. Just animals. Your memories don’t come from books. Your stories aren’t just stories. If I wanted to erase the world of men, I'd start with you.”

He’s got a nice way with words you have to give him that.

Maybe that’s why he wants to be a maester.

“How will he find you?” Tyrion cuts in to ask Bran.

“His mark is on me,” Bran answers and lifts his sleeve to show off a red bruise formed as a handprint. “He always knows where I am.”

“We’ll put you in the crypt, where it’s safest,” Jon assures his brother.

Yet his brother rebuttals.

“No. We need to lure him into the open before his army destroys all…..”

You stop fidgeting and slowly look up at him….

There’s heavy sheets of snow on the ground, the sky is dark; in the middle stands a large weirwood tree, around it are skulls. Dead.

“In the Godswood,” you interject.

Bran might’ve not been in your dream, but this…this is what the dream means.

Bran and everyone looks over at you, and the boy nods.

“Yes,” he says, “exactly.”

“You want us to use him as bait?” Sansa snaps, grabbing your attention.

“We’re not leaving you out there,” Arya also chimes in.

“He won’t be,” Theon suddenly cuts in. “I’ll stay with him. With the Ironborn. I took this castle,” he says and looks at the boy. “Let me defend you now.”

Without a word Bran nods in agreement, and Theon does as well, bringing a silence that lets you continue to focus on the next plan.

“We’ll hold off the rest of them for as long as we can,” Ser Davos inputs.

“When the time comes,” Tyrion adds. “Ser Davos and I will be on the walls to give you the signal to light the trench.”

“Ser Davos is perfectly capable of waving a torch on his own,” Daenerys counters him. “You’ll be in the crypt.”

If it were up to you he could stay up and fight, he may be smart, but he hasn’t been so lately.

Regardless, Tyrion seems to find offense to Daenerys' command and awkwardly turns to face her to try and persuade her otherwise. “Your Grace, I have fought before, I can do it again. Alongside the men and women risking their lives.”

“There are thousands of them and only one of you,” Daenerys cuts him off. “You can’t fight as well as they can, but you can think better than any of them. You’re here because of your mind. If we survive, I’ll need it.”

“May I be with Ser Davos?” The young voice beside you interjects.

You scoff and look down at your son as he keeps his gaze fixed on the map. “No,” you quickly answer him. “No. You are the heir to Daenerys, and far too young, you’ll be in the crypts.”

The boy shoots you a narrowed look. “But mother, I am not a boy any more. I can help as well.”

You keep your mouth shut and just raise your eyebrows as you shoot him a pointed glare.

He parts his lips to argue, but as he watches your look he shuts his mouth and just huffs.

“I’m sure they will need you down at the crypts,” Jon tries to assure him, pulling your gaze to him. “Whatever happens, you can keep them safe. You and your dragon.”

Rhaenar keeps his eyes down and just sighs, “I suppose.”

You share a soft thankful look with Jon and lets gaze linger before he looks away.

“The dragons should give us an edge in the field,” Ser Davos breaks the tension between Jon and you.

Jon looks back at the table and interjects. “If they’re in the field, they’re not protecting Bran. We need to be near him. Not too near, or the Night King won’t come.” He exhales deeply. “But close enough to pursue him when he does.”

You hum in agreement, and Jon passes you a displeased look when you do.

“Dragonfire will stop him?” Arya asks and looks to Bran.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “No one’s ever tried.”

Well that’s assuring.

“We’re all going to die,” the big ginger man, Tormund interjects bluntly, pulling your immediate attention. “But at least we’ll die together.”

You scoff in amusement, and muster a partial smile.

Yet as you do smile Daenerys passes you a judgemental look that makes you go serious.

“Let’s get some rest,” Jon says and ends the meeting, letting you grab Rhaenar’s shoulder to walk out with him, catching from the corner of your eye Jon following close behind.

Since the people are all walking out and following you both, you make sure to walk somewhere discreet, somewhere far from curious eyes and passersby to meet up.

Once you’re isolated Rhaenar breaks away from you and turns to face Jon with a grin.

“Jon!” He exclaims. “Guess what?!” He says with his eyes wide with excitement. “I picked a dragon egg for my brother.”

Jon eyebrows furrow as he retorts, “brother?” He scoffs. “What if it’s a girl?”

Rhaenar scoffs and brushes him off. “It will be a boy, I’m sure.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but smile.

“Well, we’ll see when the baby is born,” Jon counters him. “Won’t we?”

“Sure,” the boy shrugs him off again. “But will you want to see the egg I chose? Maybe after the battle is over?”

Jon smiles softly and nods. “Of course I would love to see it.”

Rhaenar smirks and steps away from Jon and you. “Now may I prepare for this battle? I have new armor I want to wear.”

You nod, and the boy runs off, leaving Jon and you alone. And right away he expresses that displeasure he felt before.

“Mayhaps you should go to the crypts too,” he suggests—no actually not, he's giving a discreet order.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you and the baby.”

You check if anyone is nearby, and when no one is you step towards him and fix the collar of his shirt as you meet his gaze. “Eraxis won’t fight unless I’m with her, and we need her out there. You need me out there. I can’t just sit back and listen to everyone risk their lives, I can’t sit and just let you risk your life. What if I lose you because I’m down there? What then?” You argue. “You’ll have me raise this child alone?”

“You’ll have Sansa, Arya,” Jon interjects with his gaze on yours as if that is meant to assure you. “The entire North. And you’ve done it before and you’ve done a great job.”

You shake your head and grab onto his jaw now. “The baby will need their father. I need you,” you snap softly.

Jon caresses your face and leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “Swear to me you’ll be careful,” he says.” The moment you see things go to shit you run the other way.”

You let out a deep sigh and nod, even if you really don’t intend to run. You just can’t argue all night.

“So…” you change the subject. “I suppose the wedding is off then?”

Jon scoffs and smirks softly. “It doesn’t have to be. I mean we probably won’t have a wedding night or a feast.”

You giggle. “No wedding night? Well then it’s a damn good thing we’ve had that already.” You grin and press a kiss on his lips, feeling him grab onto you tighter before he pulls back and faces you.

“If you want we can marry right now, I’ll gather my siblings. You can gather Rhaenar, and we can marry, if it’s what you want.” Jon suggests.

Marry amongst the chaos, moments before battle?

You may never have dreamt of a perfect wedding because the truth is you never expected to choose your suitor. When you met Jon, when you accepted his love and let yourself love, there was a picture in your mind, but now….

Now in the middle of this chaos, not knowing whether either of you will survive the night, the promise of forever under the eyes of the gods sounds like the sweetest bliss. Perhaps the only one you’ll ever feel.

“Okay,” you whisper with excitement. “I want to do it. Let’s do it.”

——

*LATER*

“Beautiful,” Sansa whispers and smooths out one more invisible wrinkle on your cream colored skirt. “Truly.”

You look away from your rings and meet her glimmering gaze. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Sansa studies you one more time, she takes her time to study the beautiful work of the skirt, the soft red flames designed to the bottom of the skirt, the long train that spread out over the floor, the small embroidered dragon on the bosom of the dress and the sun that it wraps around demonstrating two of the houses you’re a part of. She looks at your reflection, at the dragon wings embroidered on your back, and then looks back at your face.

“I’m sure you’ll give Jon a heart attack,” Sansa teases.

You smile softly. “If he doesn’t have one what’s the point?”

Sansa laughs softly and takes one step towards you and unhooks a wolf pin from her dress to pin it on a sleeve of your dress.

“There,” she says and presses it as she meets your gaze. “Now you’re ready.”

You look down at the silver wolf and feel your eyes sting.

“Why?” You whisper in disbelief. She’s shown not to like Daenerys for what she demands from Sansa, you are on Daenerys side, why is she so nice to you?

“Why what?” She queries.

You lift your gaze to meet hers. “Why be kind to me? I mean it seems that you don’t really like Daenerys, so why be nice to me.”

Sansa scoffs, “you were the first one to truly tell me you felt sorry,” she shares softly and holds your gaze. “Back in King’s Landing. Everyone else didn’t say a word, they hated my family, so they treated it as a victory. There were even some who said they were sorry but never meant it. Not you though, you were really sorry, perhaps the first one to be sorry for me. You were kind when I needed it the most. That’s why, because you are a good person.”

Your breath gets trapped in your throat at the sound of her sincerity, and more tears gloss over your eyes, real tears that really hurt your eyes not to let fall. She didn’t answer your question regarding Daenerys, and it seems she won’t so you leave it be and offer her a soft smile before you can’t help but wrap her in an embrace.

Sansa gets surprised, but after a small exhale she returns your hug and squeezes tight.

“Be good to my brother,” she whispers as she keeps you in her arms.

You scoff softly and nod. “I will, I swear. He’s…very special to me.”

Sansa pulls back and offers you one last smile. A knock then raps on the door, and you slightly stiffen hoping it won’t be anyone unwanted, but muster the courage to get the door; Seeing that it’s only Rhaenar.

“Come in,” you say and step back to not been seen in case anyone passes by.

“I’m ready,” he says and closes the door for you. “Are you…” he trails off as he lays his eyes on you and smiles a very sweet smile. “You look very beautiful mother.”

You grin brightly and feel your heart skip at his sweet comment. “Oh, why thank you, sweetling. And you look very dapper yourself in your armor.”

Rhaenar scoffs but can’t help his little smirk.

“Are you ready?” He then asks.

You let out a soft nervous sigh and nod. “I’m ready.” You look at Sansa over your shoulder and probe. “Are you sure they won’t see us?”

Sansa nods right away. “I’m sure,” she assures you. “But if anything, here,” she trails off and walks to a rack to grab a long cloak. “Just so you can feel assured.”

You take it from her and throw it on, making sure that every inch of the dress was covered in case you do run into someone that can’t know quite yet.

“Okay.” You say again, but for the final time. “I’m ready. Let’s not keep him waiting anymore.”

Rhaenar shoots you an excited smile, and Sansa is the first one to walk out, letting you and Rhaenar follow after her through more discreet halls that lead outside to the Godswood where Jon is waiting.

And luckily her path is short, you don’t run into anyone, but…now all you feel is your pounding heart, your spinning mind, and your nervous and shallow breaths when you step outside to the evening that slowly brought the night.

It seems that Eraxis can sense your high stressed, and excited emotions because she flies overhead and begins to circle the Godswood. If she could she’d probably land within the grounds, but she’s far too big to do so, so all she can do is circle from above and keep a watchful eye.

“Here,” Sansa sort of startles you as she comes to a stop just outside the entrance into the Godswood. “I can take the cloak now.”

You scoff softly, “right,” you whisper and slide it off your shoulders, filling the coldness nipping at your sleeveless arms.

“It’s okay, it will be okay,” Sansa assures you as she notices your emotions.

You meet her gaze and hum.

She smirks and steps back. “I’ll see you in there.”

You hum again and watch her disappear within the grounds of the woods. And once she is gone, once you make sure you won’t run into her you let out one last deep breath and expel all your nerves, after all Jon isn’t a stranger you’re suddenly matched with, you know him, you love him already, he’s the love your life…a comfort in the chaos…

You smile softly and glance up at Eraxis one last time before you meet Rhaenar’s gaze. “Ready?” You probe.

Your son offers you a sweeter smile and nods eagerly before he turns to face the Godswood, and then walks you inside.

The walk is not long or rushed, it’s calm. For what awaits everyone tonight, it’s all forgotten right now at this moment as you walk down the snowy path to the Heart Tree, as you see Jon there waiting in front of that red leaved Weirwood tree with his eyes soft and full of love the moment he sees you. There’s only peace, solace. No war, no Night King, no one else but you and him as you walk to him.

Once you do reach him, once you stand close you don’t feel nervous anymore, not even if you see his family, Theon, his friend Sam watching and his very pregnant…wife? Paramour? By his side. You feel at peace and excited, smug even when you see Jon catch his breath.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this evening?” You hear Arya ask, and finally notice that she had stepped forward.

“Y/N,” Rhaenar announces like he was told to say, “of the House Targaryen and House Martell. Whoms here to be wed. A woman grown, generous, true born, and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

You smile softly and watch Jon take a step forward, leaving his white wolfs side. “Jon, of House Stark,” he says, “Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North. Who gives her?” He asks as he keeps holding your gaze.

“Rhaenar,” your son shares happily. “Of House Targaryen. Heir to the Queen.”

“Princess Y/N,” Arya interjects. “Will you take this man?”

You take a step forward and grin brighter. “I take this man,” you agree without hesitation.

Jon lips tug wider as he gaze lingers for a moment longer as he takes your hand. You gently secure yours around his to walk closer to the Heart Tree and kneel before it.

You both then bow your heads as a token of submission, and join in prayer.

It’s not something you’re accustomed to but you only think of a simple prayer in hopes that his life nor the lives of the ones you care about get taken tonight, and that this baby within you is born healthy. That’s all.

After he’s done with his prayers he helps you to your feet and turns to face you with your hand secured in his. He caresses your face gently before he steps back to take off his fur cloak and walk behind you to carefully place it on your shoulders.

Supposedly what follows is him carrying you to the feast, but well that can’t happen tonight, so he stands before you and shares a lingering and enamored gaze before you close the gap to steal a sweet and deep kiss he quickly returns.

He cups your cheeks and deepens it more, making sure to savor what could be your last kiss ever. When he pulls back the few people that are gathered clap, and you remain in front of one another and press your foreheads against each other to cherish this moment. This blissful moment that is soon filled with the sound of Eraxis song, and Jon’s wolfs soft beautiful howl.

“I love you,” you murmur.

Jon smiles softly. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

You cup his jaw and caress his cheek one last time before you both pull away and face your families.

“Congratulations,” Sam is the first one to tell Jon as he walks to him and gives him a quick embrace.

Jon scoffs softly and pats his friends back. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sams paramour approaches you with a beaming grin and curtsy’s. “Congratulations, princess.”

You grin in amusement and offer her a thankful nod. “Thank you. You’re very sweet.”

The woman offers you one last smile before she steps away, letting Jon speak now.

“Thank you for attending, now I hope you all can keep your promise and keep the ceremony a secret until we can tell the Queen and everyone else.”

His family share a knowing look, and Arya is the one that speaks for her siblings. “Of course we will.”

Jon's eyes drift to Theon, and the man offers Jon a stiff but assuring nod. When he looks to Sam, he immediately nods and assures him too.

“I swear. We swear.”

Jon nods, and now the reality of what you’re going to face hits again. That beautiful short lived bliss wears off and doom and dread hits you harder than ever.

This might be the last time you ever see Rhaenar and Jon. This might be your last day.

“Jon,” you call out before you can leave the Godswood.

He looks over and stops in his tracks as you slow down to a stop.

Rhaenar catches you fall behind and looks back.

“It’s okay, go, get Helios and meet me in my chambers.”

The boy nods and begins to walk off, but Jon then stops him. “Wait.”

Rhaenar is caught off guard, but waits where he is and watches Jon approach him.

“I just want to wish you good fortune,” Jon says as he stops before the boy. “You’ll be down protecting people at the crypts so it’s my last time seeing you until the battle is over.” He hesitates but after a small breath he cups the back of the boy's head and offers him a gentle smile. “It’s okay to be afraid, remember?”

Rhaenar sighs shakily and nods in comprehension.

“I hope you make it,” Rhaenar tells Jon. “And kill that ice bastard.”

You and Jon chuckle as Rhaenar smiles.

“I will,” Jon assures the boy and pulls his hand back to step away. “Now go on, listen to your mother.”

Rhaenar steals a glance at you one more time before he walks off, letting Jon face you again.

“Will you tell me that it’s okay to be scared,” you whisper as he gets close to you. “I’m meant to be the face of bravery, I’m a princess, a dragon rider, I am meant to inspire people, but…I’m scared.

Jon offers you a sweet smile and grabs your fidgeting hands. “That means you’re not stupid,” he says and lifts your hands to press a kiss on your knuckles. “And people will understand your fear, we’re fighting the dead. As long as you fight, the people will follow.”

You lower your gaze and let out a soft shaky sigh. “Will you promise me that you’ll stay alive?” You ask for comfort.

Jon cups your cheeks and whispers, “I will try.” He then lowers his hand and rubs your belly. “By the way, you are breathtakingly beautiful.”

You grin shyly and meet his gaze. “Thank you,” you retort and lift your hand to cradle his cheek. “I’m glad that the truth didn’t change us.”

“I told you,” he sighs. “I won’t consider myself a Targaryen. Never.”

You begin to smirk. “Not even now that we’re married? You can be Jon Targaryen, husband to Y/N Targaryen.”

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” He quips with a partial grin.

You nod. “Very much.”

Jon grins and then steals one last lingering kiss from you, making your eyes instantly fill with tears.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “So much.”

You swallow thickly as you hold back your tears and reply, “I love you too.”

Jon pulls you in for one last lasting embrace before you break away and go your separate ways before the battle begins.

Now rather than wearing a wedding dress you have armor protecting your body. How sad is that?

Instead of a feast you’re holding your son tightly in your arms with tears welled in your eyes for what could be the last time. He usually complains that he’s getting too old to be treated like a child, but today as you wait for those horns to blow to announce the beginning of an end, he lets you cuddle with him. And his little orange hatchling nuzzles himself in between the both of you too

“Will you sing to me?” You ask Rhaenar quietly as you stroke his curly hair. “One more time.”

Rhaenar lets out a small breath before he begins to sing the song he loves in High Valyrian.

His voice quietly carries throughout the room, lolling his hatchling to sleep, blocking out the shouts from outside as people still worked, as they gathered. He had a way to make you forget for a moment the dread, and the violence that ensues.

For a moment there was peace as he sang the song. For a moment.

And then reality broke the short peace as horns were blown.

“You have your weapons right?” You ask as you both stand to your feet.

Rhaenar points to his dragon glass sword and pats his dragon glass daggers, and nods in confirmation. And you study his new shiny silver armor to check that everything was strapped and tight.

“Good,” you whisper and brush his bangs back.

“You?” He probes. “Do you have your weapons?”

You smirk and point to your double bladed dragon-glass spear by the door and pat your daggers, and nod in confirmation. “Yes I do.”

“Okay,” he sighs and walks out first, making sure to take Helios and grab his spear on the way out. You take yours too and walk him all the way to the crypts first, even if his guards were going to escort him and be with him until the battle was over.

Once again, he would’ve minded any other time, but not tonight. Tonight he hesitates to leave your side when you do reach the crypts. He looks down at the torch lit pathway and lets out a deep sigh before he turns to throw his arms around you.

“I love you, mama,” he mutters.

You laugh softly and hug him back tighter. “I love you too, my sweet boy.” You put on a brave face so he won’t feel as afraid and pull back to take in his beautiful tan face, his sweet brown eyes, his dark curly black hair, and his sweet brave smile before you press a kiss on his forehead and linger there for a moment longer. “Take care, swear to me.”

Rhaenar pulls back and offers you an assuring nod as a tear rolls down his cheek. “I swear,” he murmurs. “And you take care too. And keep my little brother safe.”

You chuckle breathlessly and nod as you step back before you stay down there with him to make sure he makes it throughout the night. “I love you my sweet boy.” You tell him one last time and wave before you turn around and head for Eraxis.

And luckily on your way out you run into Daenerys and Jon going to the same place. However, the moment Daenerys sees you she looks at you up and down before striding away faster.

You quickly look to Jon to ask what happened in a speechless manner, and all he does is sigh deeply and frown, letting you know that her reaction wasn’t due to anything good.

He probably told her about his parents, who he is.

Why couldn’t he wait if there is a tomorrow? At least then things wouldn’t be so tension filled at the moment of battle.

However, once you’re on Eraxis’s back flying over the armies formed in front of the castle, that anger you knew she held, that tension, none of it mattered. It all ceases to matter. Especially when you land on the snowy hill that overlooks it all; the castle, the armies that await for the dead, especially when all you hear is nothing but a dreadful silence.

All that matters is the dead, and you.

Even if you can’t see them below due to the darkness that envelopes the land, you know that now nothing stands between you and them. It was now or never, this fight.

You try to pump yourself with hope and desperation to win this fight. As flames light the Dothraki’s weapons below, that hope only grows.

Alas, when the Dothraki ride forward and every single flame gets snuffed out that burning hope falters. Once there’s darkness again, you’re rattled, more afraid. Yet anger also begins to take root.

That same anger is something Daenerys displays right away without a fault when she sees her people dying. And when she tries to act on it and get on her dragon to join the battle Jon stops her.

“The Night King is coming,” he tells her as he grabs her arm, making you narrow your gaze as you can’t help your jealousy from sprouting.

“The dead are already here,” Daenerys snaps back and yanks her arm away to turn away. She meets your gaze briefly but doesn’t add anything and continues towards Drogon.

Once her back is turned Jon and you meet each others gazes and share one last lingering and longing look before you climb on Eraxis.

You proceed to strap yourself on to secure yourself on your saddle, and then pat your dragon's neck for comfort as the wind brings the sound of the dead’s growl and groans the closer they get to the castle.

Now there’s no escaping them. They’re here, and you’re ready.

“<Fly,>” you order Eraxis.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Daenerys knows who Jon is, imagine when she finds out her niece is pregnant with his baby, and that they got married in secret 😗🫣 dance of dragons 2? 😗

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo

[countrymusiclover]

29 - Two Dragon Queens

( Gif not mine - belongs to respectful owner )

Part 30

The Lion Knight and Dragon Princess

Tags- just send an ask to be added @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Tyrion’s pov

Someone rolled the dwarf over harshly waking him up where he saw multiple dragoon guards standing over him.  They yanked him up from his bed wearing only a night shirt and some trousers not given the chance to put on some boots so he was completely barefoot.  “What’s going on?  It seems a bit early and I doubt our queen would like to see me this way.” 

“Be quiet, dwarf.” One of the guards orders while the others push the door open, shoving him into the throne room of Dragonstone. 

Tyrion lifts his head up to the dragon queen seated on her chair. “Your grace, I’m quite confused on what is going on here.” 

“What is going on here is you lied to me.  You lied to me when you said that my sister would be loyal to my reign.  That she would come back with more men to my cause.” 

“It takes time to sail across the world as you know.  Give them time to respond.” He attempted to explain the possible situations. “Or we have to think of the worse option that they are dead.” 

She clasped her hands together in her lap. “How would you feel if that was the case?” 

“I would feel utterly horrible for the loss of my brother.  He always treats me better than the rest of my family.  And if Vaella was gone I’d miss a very dear friend, I happen to have few of those.” 

The Targaryen girl barely showed a sad expression on her face. “Let’s say she’s alive.  What would you have me do if she shows up here with an army claiming her queen of the seven kingdoms?” 

“I'd offer her a chance to explain.  You have offered the chance to bend the knee to others.  Your sister should be no different.” Tyrion clasped his hands together. 

“She has the same claim to the throne as I do.  Yet she’s the oldest daughter of our departed father meaning she could take the throne before I do.” 

Tyrion began getting more nervous seeing her purple eyes growing darker. “Vaella has never had any interest in claiming the throne.” 

“So she’s said.  That could just be a lie to you.  She could be swaying your brother and commanding your family’s fleet behind your back without your knowledge.” 

“Vaella and I are very good friends.  I have high faith that she’d never do such a thing to a friend.  My queen, please don’t lose belief that you’re sister will support you-“ 

Daenerys rose from her chair glaring down at her Hand. “Nothing you can say will change my mind.  Either my sister shows herself and proves her allegiance to my claim or she’s dead and you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell-“ 

“Queen Vaella Lannister , first of my name, formerly of House Targaryen , Lady of Casterly Rock, Adventurer of the Summer Sea and Sothoryos, Lady of The Dragon Island!” The double doors got thrown opened causing everyone to turn their heads when a random man announced someone’s entrance. 

Tyrion dropped his shoulders releasing a sigh of relief at seeing his friend stride into the room with a black crown on her head. “Vaella, thank the gods.” 

Vaella’s pov 

Striding up to my sisters thrown with my loose gown flowing behind me as I walked I showed no fear towards her.  Jaime followed behind me with our four little ones on his toes.  A few of the Valyria Queensguard were behind them.  “Sister.” I simply said giving her a curtsy. 

“Ser Barristan.” My sister called our fathers former knight's name causing him to draw his sword aiming it at the front of my chest. 

Moving my right hand down I draw out my Velaryon sword aiming it at the center of his chest. “Ser Barristan, you swore you’d always defend my family.  I know you wouldn’t strike your blade against your other Targaryen princess.” 

“I will defend the Queen I have pride in serving.  You're against my Queen at the moment.” He responded sternly. 

Gripping the handle of my sword I didn’t remove my locked gaze from the knights. “Jaime!” Jaime draws his sword telling the others to do the same.  My members of the guard draw their sword and my sisters men drew their weapons aiming them at my men waiting for either of us Queens to give our next command. 

“You let the man who profaned his blade with the blood of the King he swore to defend command your Queensguard!” Barristan scoffed in my direction, eyeing Jaime standing behind me. 

Glaring at the knight who protected me and my brother and was one of my friends. “Jaime, saved my life and the population of King's Landing by doing so, including yours.  He is also my husband and father of my children.  Rhaegar approved of him.” 

“He wouldn’t if he was still alive to see him stab your father in the back, princess.” 

Holding my sword still I poked him with my blade tip, knowing it wouldn’t break easily through his heavy armor. “My brother wouldn’t allow you to strike his baby sister if he was still alive though.  Is that what you want Ser Barristan to strike the only child left of Aerys II who lived through his reign of Wildfire and Blood.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you, princess Vaella.  But if my Queen commands me I shall do as I’m ordered to.” 

I knew the man before me was a true and loyal knight and he would be until the day he died. “Then lower your weapon, Ser Barristan….Daenerys, if you wish for a fight I will give you one but allow my children to leave before we do such a thing.  They are still innocent and I’d prefer to keep them that way for as long as possible.” 

“Escort the children out now!” She raised her head watching two dragon guards lead them out into the hallway. Slowly walking to the edge of the steps standing slightly behind her lord commander of her Queensguard. “Nyke’ll tepagon ao nykeā minute naejot explain aōla gō nyke mazverdagon issa decision. Yn nyke leaning va letting ao se ser barristan jikagon rȳ ziry rūsīr aōha korzoti. - I’ll give you a minute to explain yourself before I make my decision.  But I am leaning towards letting you and Ser Barristan go at it with your swords.” 

“You’re grace-“ Tyrion attempts to speak. 

She cut his sentence short. “I didn’t ask for your advice, Lannister.” 

Eyeing my sister I spoke old Valyrian to her. “Ziry istan dōrī issa intention naejot gūrogon se āegenka dēmalion se bona nykeēdrosa remains sir. Nyke dōrī intended naejot betray ao yn lo ao don’t jaelagon naejot emagon mirre competition hen someone qilōni shares aōha ānogar pār nyke vestragon - “It was never my intention to take the Iron Throne and that still remains now.  I never intended to betray you but if you don’t wish to have any competition from someone who shares your blood then I say -“ 

“Princess?” Ser Barristan raised a brow. 

Moving my sword down to the ground with a few steps backwards from the knight. “Raise your sword, Ser Barristan and face me.” Raising my blade slightly behind my head keeping my gaze focused on him. 

“Your grace?” The knight looked at his dragon queen. 

Daenerys simply answered. “Face my seemingly traitorous sister.” 

“Forgive me, Rhaegar.  Forgive me, princess.” Ser Barristan reluctantly raised his sword and we began charging at the other about to strike the other until the double doors flung opened making us halt in our tracks. 

Missandi rushed inside the room announcing. “The man named Jon Snow has arrived.” 

“Who the hell is Jon Snow?” Lowering my sword I placed it back in my holder on my hip. 

Tyrion came over taking my hand in his nodding for his brother to follow him. “You’ll like him and he’ll like you.  I know I like him.  Come I’ll introduce you, Vae.” The three of us left the throne room without a word to my sister. 

[inthepeakymidwinter]

First Edition (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Y/N loses a family member and comes to stay with old neighborhood friends....The Shelby's. Word Count: 876 TW: Drinking Tags: @theshelbyclan @globetrotter28 --------------------------------------------

My grandfather had passed away shortly during the midst of an industrial revolution. It wasn’t excellent timing, but thankfully I knew the Shelby’s. Their mom was close friends with my mom when we were all young children. I hadn’t seen them in ages as they were always busy with their new betting shop but somehow once my grandfather’s bakery went under after he passed they allowed me to stay with them for a short while. Thomas, the middle child, had offered a place to stay at his newly purchased mansion. I was very grateful for the Shelby’s indeed.

I was sitting in the home library. Sulking in my own sorrow and looking for decent books to read. It was then that I noticed an old favorite of mine ‘Persuasion’ written by Jane Austen. It reminded me of when I was a young teenager in Small Heath, entrapped in a love triangle with the young Thomas Shelby and his younger brother John. Johns happily married now with a lot of children, but Thomas is a widow, and I chose to avoid marriage ever since I was 17 years old. I carried a lot of independence with me and prided myself on it.

As I found myself lost in thought I noticed the door to the library creak open. I turned my head and saw the owner of the house catch my glance with the same chilled stare he gave me once he returned from the war. A lot of people I knew were different after the war, but Thomas Shelby was in his own special category all to himself. I didn’t know what he’d been through. He would never dare to let me in…but I do know that whatever he experienced hit him so hard that I could barely recognize him once he came home.

“Lost in your books again huh Y/n” He teased as I had put the book ‘Persuasion’ back into its place on the book shelf.

“It seems as if it’s the one vice I can’t seem to give up these days…sorry…I didn’t mean to go through your things” I apologized, recognizing that not everything in someone’s home should be touched.

“By all means, Y/n go ahead. These were all my wife’s. She loved reading as much as you did when I first met you, don’t feel bad” Thomas reminisced.

“I’m sorry for your loss” I gave my condolences and all he did was nod in acceptance.  We stood there in silence for a few moments before he walked towards the minibar in the room and poured himself a glass of brown liquor. He cleared his throat, took a sip from his glass, and sat on the leather couch that was conveniently placed in the middle of the room.

“Feel free to take all the books you want Y/n…They’re all first editions” He offered. As blown away as I was by the offer, I couldn’t accept something so priceless.

I smiled and sat next to him on the couch. “I would never do that Mr. Shelby. They’re much too valuable” I told him. He stared deeply into my eyes for a minute until he shifted in his seat and adjusted his posture.

“You know you are still one of the select few of people who still have the privilege to call me by my first name, Y/n” He stated seriously.

I stared into his baby blue eyes for a minute, completely enamored with his beauty until I had to snap out of it. His good looks and charisma still strike me all these years later.

“I wasn’t sure where we stood exactly…after all this time” I mentioned.

“I think you know exactly where we stand” He spoke softly and brought a hand to my cheek, softly caressing my face.

“I’m not the same as I was all these years ago, Thomas” I sighed.

“I’d never dreamed you’d be” He spoke.

“A lot has changed” I frowned and took his hand away from my face as I remembered what happened with my grandpa.   

“I know… I’m sorry” He apologized and sipped his glass.

“I never thought our families would have separated. I thought I’d always spend my days with you, John, and Arthur” I said and held his hand.

“-and I never thought I’d get married to anyone but you” He spoke honestly.

“Why are you doing this, Thomas?” I asked in all sincerity.

He looked at the floor and back up at me. “We’ve both lost people, Y/n. I don’t want to lose you too”.

I nodded my head and stood up from the couch. The thought of Thomas Shelby actually liking me back all these years later was too much for my mind to handle.    “I need to go have a bath…I had a long trip” I spoke softly and shuffled my way out of the room.

“Y/n one more thing” He shouted from across the room. “Yes Thomas?” I spun on my heels and answered his call. “Sleep in my bed tonight…My staff hasn’t finished the guest room yet. I’ll sleep on the couch if you don’t mind” He insisted.

I nodded my head slowly and walked out of the room in a daze. Did he just call me to his bedroom?