photosbybeanz

[magentagalaxies]

officially going to be taking a standup comedy class next semester!!! now my schedule is literally:

improv class

sociology class about queer history

standup class

buddy cole documentary which counts as a class despite only meeting with the professor when i want to and being a project i would work on even if i didn't get college credit

god i love majoring in comedy in college

[happilyhertale]

Heir to the throne - Daemon Targaryen x niece!reader

Summary: You and your uncle Daemon have a somewhat sullen relationship. Daemon thinks you are weak. And you think he is insufferable and manipulative. But how long can you resist your growing affection for him?

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (:

A one-shot Daemon story requested by @dreamlandcreations 🖤 I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 5.5 k

Other stories of mine

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As the day of your birth dawned, the enchanting chimes of Kings Landing echoed through the city, filling the air with a symphony of celebration. All the people of the realm witnessed your arrival on this earth. As the beloved first-born daughter of King Viserys and his beloved Queen Aemma, it was well known that your father longed for a son. But your father's deep love for you surpassed all pre-determined expectations.

When your mother's womb was filled with new life again, you were still a child yourself, and the anticipation of the arrival of a male heir to stride through the royal halls grew. But fate had other plans, and your sister Rhaenyra graced the world with her presence. From the moment she entered this realm, an unbreakable bond formed between the two of you. Despite Rhaenyra's temperamental nature, you found harmony in each other's company.

During your childhood together, mischievous pranks became part of your playful repertoire, often driving others to despair. While you found solace in the art of needlework and the treasures of old books in the library, Rhaenyra could always be found in the exercise yard, rolling in the earth and eagerly keeping pace with the boys of the court. But you, too, actually took part in such pursuits and proved that your wild spirit burns just as brightly. Countless times you stood by Rhaenyra's side, defending her against the taunts of those who mocked her only because she was a girl. Together, fearlessly and with combined strength, you unceremoniously threw those who dared to challenge you into the dirt.

Yet the longing for a male heir consumed your father Viserys' heart and overshadowed the vibrant love between your parents. Your mother, despite her best efforts, was tired and exhausted after mourning a dead child in the cradle, suffering two stillbirths and two heartbreaking miscarriages. But a glimmer of hope emerged when she became pregnant again, sparking the anticipation of a long-awaited male successor. Even you and Rhaenyra held on to that hope, for you were reluctant to take on the burden of ruling a kingdom. The duties and benefits of being a princess gave you both far more pleasure. But this pregnancy weighed heavily on your mother, sapping her vitality with each passing day. The signs were obvious to you, for she rarely ventured out of her bath anymore.

You and Rhaenyra started spending a few moments together in bed in the evenings at that time. You had numerous conversations ranging from trivia to the prevailing topic of your mother and her exhausting pregnancy. It was during these intimate exchanges that your fear of childbirth was really ignited.

This fear was only fuelled when your mother died in childbirth. Your mother's untimely passing at the birth of the long-awaited male heir shook you and Rhaenyra to the core. But in the midst of the pain, there was a surprising turn of events when your father called you to him. The seriousness that showed on his face set the tone as you and Rhaenyra stood before King Viserys, waiting for his words.

In a calm and serious tone, he unravelled the story of the Song of Ice and Fire and tied together the threads of the prophetic vision of Aegon the Conqueror. As his hopeful gaze fell upon you, a feeling of trepidation crept over you, for you did not know what he was up to. Your father was trying to divert the succession by preferring you to your uncle Daemon and longing for you to ascend the throne. There was silence in the air, broken only by Rhaenyra's radiant smile. But you shook your head resolutely and refused the iron throne that awaited you. And so the path took its course, granting Rhaenyra her rightful place as heir to the throne.

But what you and Rhaenyra also shared was the joyful anticipation that shot through your veins every time your uncle Daemon visited King's Landing. The moment Caraxes appeared in the sky, your heart beat faster and you quickly made your way to the dragon pit. Hastily you traversed the corridors, longing to catch even a glimpse of your beloved uncle. Gasping for breath, you reached the entrance of the dragon pit and waited patiently for his arrival. It wasn't long before Rhaenyra was at your side, waiting as well. And whenever Daemon finally appeared, a radiant smile lit up both your faces.

Without hesitation, you both sprinted towards him, and with effortless strength, he lifted you both up in his arms and carried you towards the keep. Enchanted, you listened to his every word and listened to tales of epic battles and distant lands he had travelled. But over time, things changed. You grew more mature, older and wiser.

Although you still hold your uncle in high esteem, a bittersweet ambivalence stirs within you. You still enjoyed listening to his stories, even if you feigned a certain disinterest. But his shadowy deeds, which always resonated in the depths of your consciousness, repelled you. The same was true of your uncle. He held you in high esteem, considered you his niece and vowed to protect you from the horrors of this world should he have the power to do so. However, he considered you weak, much like your father, King Viserys. It was Rhaenyra, spirited and rebellious, who attracted his affections more. But such things were of no consequence to you. Gaining his attention was not attractive, at least you kept whispering this to yourself.

One day, the whispers of the servants echoed ceaselessly through the air, like a delicate melody. The news was full of excitement - a vibrant festival was to fill the humble streets of Flea Bottom. Enchanting attractions and captivating performers would parade through the avenues, enthralling all who gathered with their enchanting talents. Naturally, your curiosity was piqued, for it had been far too long since you had joined Rhaenyra on a journey through the secret passages of the keep.

As evening fell and dinner drew to a close, you retired to your chambers. Secretly you dressed in the humble attire of the servants and carefully donned a cloak with a hood that concealed your shining silver locks. With great determination, you approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall in your chambers and exerted a gentle but purposeful push. The wall that obeyed your touch gives way, revealing a hidden passageway that lies beyond. A tingle of anticipation flows through you as you enter the hidden passageways and the familiar excitement within you flares up again.

As you arrive in front of the massive keep, you stare upwards, fascinated by the towering walls that seem almost frightening. Relief washes over you, for you knew that tonight you would escape the confines of this fortress and enjoy the freedom that awaited you. Your path leads you unwaveringly to Flea Bottom, a thriving tapestry of life and pleasure. The narrow streets were teeming with happy people, the air was filled with animated conversation and joyous laughter.

At every corner, artists adorned the bustling scene, showing off their talents and attracting the attention of passers-by. The fascination of it all takes hold of you as your gaze wanders upwards to witness a daredevil performer gracefully crossing a taut rope between two old walls. A melodious laugh escapes your lips, evidence of the sheer wonder and enchantment that has captivated you.

The lure of this uncomplicated existence is undeniably great. What is even more enticing is the anonymity it gives you. Here your hair remains unseen, the darkness hides you from prying eyes. Your purple eyes go unnoticed like a hidden gem. You are no princess, but just an ordinary soul among them.

A woman gracefully hands you a glass of wine and a smile graces your lips in response. As you sip the wine, she leads you into the crowd of dancing people. In the square, musicians serenade and enchant those who sway to their melodies. You find yourself in the midst of the cheering crowd, laughing and twirling in blissful abandon. You spill a little wine but pay no attention to the fleeting mishap. Your hood slips briefly, but you deftly straighten it again, preserving your disguise.

But as you turn around briskly, a sudden shock of surprise passes through you. Standing before you is your uncle, Daemon, wrapped in his own cloak.

"Uncle!" you say, startled. Your eyes are wide and you stop abruptly. You are breathing heavily from all your dancing.

But he only grins at you.

"Well, well... What is our little princess doing here?" he asks you.

You clear your throat slightly, "Well... I just wanted to enjoy the festivities," you say softly.

He smiles at you, "I could see that," he grins at you.

"So you're interested in the festivities? And you even sneak out of the keep to do it?" he asks you.

You look at him, "Does that surprise you?" you ask him in return.

He shrugs slightly, "Let's put it this way, I didn't expect it"

He looks at you with a look you can't quite place. Your cheeks flush slightly and you look to the side.

"Well... I have to go, take care princess," he says with a slight grin and continues walking.

You are left a little irritated.

The next day you learn that Rhaenyra was in a brothel with Daemon and you are shocked. You met Daemon on the streets of Flea Bottom, he must have gone straight to a brothel afterwards... When you hear this, you immediately go in search of Rhaenyra.

When you find her, she is standing talking to Ser Criston.

"Rhaenyra," you say, and she responds with a smile.

"Can we talk for a moment?" you ask her.

Ser Criston steps away from you.

When you are alone, you look at her.

"You were in a brothel with Uncle Daemon?" you ask her.

Her eyes grow wide.

"How do you know about that?" she asks you, horrified.

"Well... secrets don't stay secrets here for long... Especially when two silver-haired people visit a brothel," you say.

She swallows visibly.

"So it's true?" you ask her.

She grabs your arm, "He didn't take my maidenhead, I swear," she says to you.

"But how can you be so careless as to go to a brothel with him?" you ask her.

"Do you know what will happen if this gets out?" you ask her further, "Your reputation will be ruined!"

She bites her lip nervously.

"It won't come out... and if it does...I didn't lose my maidenhead to him," she says softly.

But after your father finds out about it, he is furious. He has Daemon brought to him.

"Give me Rhaenyra to take to wife and we will return the House of the Dragon to its proper glory"

There is a brief silence in the throne room as Daemon speaks the words and lies hungover on the floor.

Viserys kneels over him, "Of course... It's not my daughter you lust for, is it?"

He presses the blade a little more against Daemon's neck, "It's my throne"

Daemon grins just slightly.

"You can take her as your wife... But she will no longer be heir to the throne. I will make y/n heir to the throne. Rhaenyra is no longer pure, too wild to rule a kingdom... Hoping that you cannot corrupt y/n, " Viserys finally says.

Daemon gets angry, "You can't do that!"

Viserys stands up, "You'll see what I can do"

And in a moment that seemed to stand the test of time, your father, in a grand production, announced to the realm that you were the rightful heir to the throne. He justifies this monumental decision by acknowledging that he should have recognised your esteemed position as elder sister from the beginning. Deep down, however, both you and Rhaenyra understand the motivations behind this decision, but the revelation leaves you stunned and unprepared. The thought of assuming the role of queen does not suit your heart's desires, but your father, determined and weary of all stormy arguments, rejects all arguments.

The kingdom is in an uproar, and King Viserys hosts an extravagant ball to celebrate this turning point. With unwavering courage, you step into the limelight, knowing that all eyes will be on you all night and your every move will be closely watched. Countless lords vie for your attention, eager to capture your gaze. You, now the embodiment of attraction, become the most desired woman in the realm, igniting ardent desire from all corners. In the midst of this whirlwind, you find a moment of calm, enjoying a sip of wine in solitude, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of your uncle at your side.

"Niece," he says in greeting.

You look over at him slightly and then drink some more of your wine.

"Uncle," you say back.

After a while his voice resounds, "So you are now heir to the throne"

You nod slightly, "I guess that's right," you say.

He smiles slightly, "You don't seem very pleased about it"

You snort slightly, "Well... if you hadn't taken your other niece to a brothel and started rumours about her virtue... Then I wouldn't have to be here," you say.

"So you're not pleased?" he asks you.

You just look at him.

"Why... Why are you taking her to a brothel in the first place? It's irresponsible and immoral," you say.

"'Excuse me... My highly moral niece... but if we are honest, was I ever moral?" he asks you.

You snort again and he looks at you.

"You were out in Flea Bottom yourself...," he finally replies, but you interrupt him.

"... but I didn't go to a brothel!" you say.

He watches you for a moment.

"I had to take Rhaenyra there... I had to show her... To show her what it means to make political decisions… to fulfil duties and also to accept and live out personal preferences," he tells you.

You shake your head slightly, "You can't think of anything better than taking your niece to your brothel?"

You drink from your wine and look out into the crowd again.

He looks at you, a slight smile curling his lips.

"You wish I had gone to the brothel with you?" he asks suddenly.

You choke on your wine.

"Excuse me?" you ask him.

He grins now, "You wish I had chosen you. When I met you on the streets of Flea Bottom... You wish I had taken you by the hand and..."

But you interrupt him.

"What? No! Of course not!" you say to him, but your cheeks blush slightly.

He just grins even more, "Well... If I had known that your father would now install you as heir to the throne... Then I wouldn't have deprived you of this lesson," he says with the same grin on his face.

"Stop it!" you hiss.

"I have no interest in going to a filthy brothel with you," you say to him and you feel the anger rising inside you.

"Well... we don't have to go to a brothel either... I can teach you this lesson in a soft bed," his eyes sparkle as he says this to you.

You just look at him.

"Do you always have to be like this? So manipulative? Maybe you should stop trying to corrupt your brother's daughters... At some point there won't be any children left to succeed to the throne... Or is that what you want? So that you can be named heir to the throne again?" you say to him.

Daemon's gaze darkens, but you simply step away from him.

You leave the ball. You quickly try to put a great distance between you and Daemon. You don't know what it is, but the thought of being in a brothel with Daemon stirs something in you. But you quickly move on towards your chambers.

As the morning light wakes you and you step out of your chambers after your morning routine, a bittersweet realisation comes to you - Daemon has once again left King's Landing.

But in the midst of this recurring absence, a new responsibility now weighs on your shoulders and demands your attention. Your father, concerned for your future, keeps dropping hints about potential suitors who might be worthy of you. Some of these suggestions make you recoil in horror, as they are unfamiliar names of lords you have never heard of. Others, with some logic, sound like good partners. But one name keeps coming up - Laenor Velaryon. Laenor, a kind-hearted soul, would guarantee you a respectful marriage. But deep inside you long for a marriage that promises more than a husband who prefers to spend his free time in the company of other men.

While King Viserys wants to leave the final decision to you, he nevertheless tries in his own discreet way to win your heart for this union. Inwardly, you cannot help but envy Rhaenyra, who now enjoys the freedom of choice, unaffected by the burden of political affairs. Yet you are taken aback when she too suddenly expresses her desire for an engagement. Ser Harwin's proposal to marry her is announced by your father, and the glow on Rhaenyra's lips betrays her joy. After much deliberation, your father has given his consent to this betrothal, sealing the path Rhaenyra will take.

Preparations for Rhaenyra's wedding are in full swing, putting an enchanting aura in the air. Although Rhaenyra is no longer heir to the throne, no expense or effort is spared to ensure a magnificent wedding. While you are busy with your own new tasks, you are all the more surprised when your sister's wedding is suddenly only a few days away.

The capital city is welcoming an influx of distinguished guests, with unfamiliar faces packing the halls. Amidst this swirl, fate once again crosses your path with Laenor. Warm greetings are exchanged, and in the absence of your father's watchful presence, you are indeed able to engage in pleasant conversation. Unfortunately, your father never fails to highlight Laenor's presence whenever he can.

On the auspicious day of the wedding, there is a grand ball where wine flows copiously, instilling in you a sense of calm. This makes it a little easier to bear your father's insistent insistence that you dance with Laenor. Your gaze, however, inevitably wanders to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin, who always wear beaming smiles on their lips. Genuine joy fills your heart for them.

Suddenly a murmur goes through the crowd, growing louder with each passing moment. As you look up from your seat at the head table, you catch sight of the entrance of your uncle, who has been absent throughout the ceremony. Surprised, but not completely taken aback, it seems only logical that he naturally needs to make a special appearance. He exudes an undeniable charm as he strides into the hall, his lips curved into a subtle smile. Your eyes meet briefly, and you detect a hint of mirth in his eyes. Hastily, you avert your gaze and seek refuge in the depths of your wine glass.

Daemon makes his way to Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin and offers them his congratulations before gracefully walking around the table. Finally, he settles across from you. As you avoid his gaze, your attention is abruptly taken by your father, who suddenly stands before you. A smile graces your face as you lift your gaze to meet him, only to lose it again when you see Laenor standing beside your father.

"Y/n. I thought you were going to show Laenor your new dancing skills?" your father asks you.

You smile, "Where do you keep getting these ideas from?," you mumble.

But gracefully you rise from your seat and put on a gentle smile, as if the weight of the world is light on your shoulders. Together with Laenor, you glide to the dance floor, a harmonious couple amidst the lively atmosphere. Laenor, a skilful dance partner, engages you in pleasant conversation. But his presence does not arouse any feelings beyond the warmth of a cousin.

After a few dances, a growing restlessness overcomes you and you long for solitude and a break from the boisterous mood. Seeking solace, you retreat to the edge of the dance floor, the rim of your wine cup finding comfort at your lips. A single, daring sip empties the vessel and quiets your inner turmoil for a moment. In the distance, your father approaches Laenor once more and engages him in conversation. The scene almost amuses you as you notice that Laenor is beginning to seem annoyed too.

You quickly take another cup of wine and leave the festivities before your father can address you again. Cup in hand, you stroll through the corridors and make your way to your chambers. Weary from the day's events, your only desire is to wrap yourself in solitude. As you enter your private chambers, you free yourself from the confines of your dress and let out a relieved sigh as the lacing at your back loosens.

The garment falls to the floor and surrenders to gravity. Wearing a flowing nightgown, you approach the mirror and carefully untangle the intricately braided pigtails that adorned your head. As you lift the brush and prepare to run it through your silken tresses, an unwelcome interruption sounds in the form of a sharp knock on the door. Irritation flickers across your face as you turn to face the unwelcome disturbance.

"Who is it?" you ask. But no one answers. You sigh and go to the door. You open it.

"What is it?" but you pause as you see your uncle.

"Uncle?" you ask.

He smiles slightly at you, "Niece," he says.

You look at each other for a while.

"Won't you invite me in?" he finally asks you.

"I'm not sure I want to," you reply.

He raises his eyebrows a little, but you take a step to the side.

His hands are behind his back and he smiles at you. Slowly he enters your chambers. You close the door and watch him. You see his broad back and notice that he seems to be looking around.

"Not much has changed in your chambers..." he says somewhat absently as he stands at your desk.

You look at him and smile a little, "Did you come here to inspect my chambers?" you ask him.

He turns to you and has to smile a little again, "No... of course not...", he says almost quietly.

He lets his fingers glide lightly over a book lying on your desk.

"You seemed annoyed," he says finally.

Now you are the one raising your eyebrows, "What?" you ask him.

"Well... At the ball... You seemed upset. Upset that Viserys kept trying to badger you with Laenor's presence," he says, smiling at you.

You roll your eyes a little as you think about it again. "Is it that noticeable?" you ask him.

You walk over to the table and drink from your wine again.

"I don't want to marry Laenor," you say finally.

"I like Laenor, he's nice. But I don't want a man who prefers the company of men," you say, turning to face Daemon.

Daemon grins slightly.

"That's understandable... You want a man who desires you," he says to you.

You have to chuckle a little, but shake your head slightly, "I don't think that's an argument that will meet with my father's understanding," you say.

"Well...", Daemon says, "You will be queen, you should decide who you marry... who will rule with you", he says to you.

You drink again of your wine and look at him. You see a sparkle in his purple eyes.

"I could take you to a brothel, if that would help you decide," he says suddenly.

This hits you unexpectedly and you suddenly have to laugh. Your laughter infects Daemon and you hear him chuckle slightly.

"Thank you very much for your offer, uncle. But I think I will decline," you say with a smile.

You look at each other and notice how close you are. You can literally feel his breath on your skin. Suddenly his lips are on yours. You gasp briefly, but then his hand is on your cheek and he holds you tight. The kiss is wild and passionate. You put your hands on his firm chest and pull him closer to you by his waistcoat. You whimper slightly as he gently bites your lower lip. Daemon breaks the kiss briefly. He is breathing heavily. His thumb wanders gently over your lower lip. His eyes seem to be watching your face closely, as if finding even the slightest sign that you don't want this.

"Do you really want me to corrupt another daughter of the king?" he asks you in his deep voice.

You are also breathing heavily and look at him.

"Shut up, uncle," you say simply.

He chuckles lightly and lets his hand slide down your neck. He pulls you close again and kisses you.

He pushes you backwards slightly and you notice the back of your thighs pressing against the desk. His hands are suddenly on your hips and with one quick movement you are sitting on the desk. Daemon is standing between your legs and he starts kissing your neck. Slowly he lets his lips and tongue glide over your soft skin. His fingers slowly slide along your thigh and you gasp.

"Is that okay?" Daemon whispers as he continues to caress your neck. You just nod and wrap your legs around him.

You feel a slight grin on his lips. You start to unbutton his shirt. More and more of his muscular chest is exposed. You notice slight scars on his skin as he lets go of your neck to pull his shirt over his head. You breathe heavily. You let your fingers wander gently over his chest and feel the scars. You bite your lip lightly.

"Shall we stop for a moment and admire each other's bodies?" he asks you with a teasing undertone.

You look up into his eyes. "Shut up, I said," you whisper. He chuckles softly and kisses you again. His hand continues to wander along your thigh. It slides under your nightgown and you let your hand slide down his neck. You gently grab his neck and pull him closer to you. You notice how your undergarments are getting more and more soaked. When his fingers suddenly slide over your folds, you moan into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate for long and pushes your undergarments aside. He feels your wetness immediately and his fingers are immediately soaked.

A deep groan forms in his chest. His fingers find your clit and start to leave firm but gentle movements on it. You moan again and gasp. You grip his neck tighter and he grins at you.

"You like that..." he whispers.

You just whimper as he moves his fingers faster. You kiss him again and try to undo his trousers at the same time. But you are distracted by his fingers. When he suddenly inserts two fingers into you, your efforts stop.

"Daemon...", you moan a little louder now.

"Yes...? I must prepare you for my cock...", he murmurs simply and lets his fingers slide into you.

You look into his eyes. Your cheeks are flushed and you are breathing heavily. He smiles at you. You moan as he lets his fingers disappear inside you again and again. You close your eyes and pull him towards you. Your lips find his lips and when he inserts a third finger, you just whimper. But you start to move your hips towards him.

Suddenly you hear him open his trousers and they slip to the floor. Your tongues continue to dance around each other as he suddenly stops inserting his fingers into you. Instead, he reaches for your undergarments and pulls them down your legs. You breathe heavily and watch his movements. You see him bite his lip as he just drops your undergarments on the floor. But then your gaze falls on his body. Daemon is standing in front of you without his shirt and trousers. And you see his entire size.

You now bite your lip as you look at his cock. It is big and thick and you can already see a few drops polling around at its tip.

His big hand pumps a few times his hot length and then he lets the tip of his cock slide through your wetness. You hear him grunt softly and can't hold back a moan of your own.

He kisses you again and lets his hand wander to your ass. Slowly he pulls you closer to him and you feel him slowly push his cock into you. You bite your lip. You gasp as his big member almost splits you. But it feels so good. He gives you time to adjust to his size. You start to move your hips towards him. And he takes that as a sign and his thrusts become stronger. With each thrust he is deeper inside you. His grunts get louder and you start moaning in unison with him. He fills you completely. Your arms are around his neck and you close your eyes. His hands are on your hips and he makes you slam down on his cock faster. You cry out in passion. The table beneath you starts to creak with each thrust, it is obviously not designed for such activities.

Suddenly one of his hands is on your shoulder and he pushes you down gently. You follow his instruction and lie down on the table. Immediately his hands are on your hips again, setting the pace. You wrap your legs around his waist to push him closer to you. The slapping of your naked skin and your lustful sounds fill your chambers. With each thrust, he grazes your sweet spot in your wet core. You moan out. Daemon notices how your walls clench around his cock.

Without hesitation, he begins to rub your pearl with his thumb. You reach for his biceps as a wave of excitement floods through you.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"It's all right, I've got you. Show me how good it is for you... Come on my cock," you hear him say in his deep voice. His thumb moves faster and his thrusts become harder.

And then an incredible feeling floods you.

You moan, but his thrusts don't let up.

"Daemon," you moan and continue to grab his biceps.

"Yes... Yes!" he just grunts. You close your eyes and are a moaning mess. And then you hear him groan loudly. His moans become softer until they subside completely. You are both breathing heavily. You are still lying on your desk. Daemon is still standing between your legs. He lets his head hang down and you feel him slowly pull his cock out of you. You notice his cum leaking out of you and dripping onto the floor. But you can't move. Your eyes are closed and you try to catch your breath. You notice how he gently caresses your thigh.

"I wanted to take Rhaenyra's maidenhead that night... In the brothel...", you suddenly hear him say.

You open your eyes and look at him. He looks at you closely.

Neither of you says anything.

When suddenly he breaks the silence again, "But I couldn't"

You continue to look at him.

"Why?" you ask quietly.

He swallows briefly, "When I saw you that night. You, the perfect, good princess who did something forbidden... That somehow confused me..." he says quietly. His fingers continue to caress your thigh.

"I don't know, I just couldn't," he says a little louder.

You have to smile slightly and sit up.

"So my uncle does have a conscience," you say teasingly.

He has to smile slightly, "Then I guess I shouldn't have taken your maidenhead"

You smile, "Who said you did?"

He looks at you a little startled.

"I was joking," you say before he can say anything.

This time he has to laugh. He starts stroking your cheek.

"Maybe your father had better not find out about this," he says suddenly. But you have the feeling that there is a hint of sadness.

You look at him. Suddenly you have to smile slightly.

"Except... When I tell him I want to marry you," you say.

His eyes grow wide.

"What...?" he whispers.

"Well... He wants me to get married. And I get to have the last word," you say.

"But you are so often annoyed with me," he says with a smile.

"Well... at least that guarantees it won't be boring," you say quietly.

Daemon just shakes his head slightly and leans forward. He kisses you softly.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @dreamlandcreations

[thefixations-ofmine]

Kinktober 2024 - Choking & Marking

Pairing: BuckTommy Word count: 4.2k Warnings: choking, belt whipping, spitting, use of kitten, use of daddy, faint mention of blood, emotional sex, basically Buck wants Tommy to hurt his sadness away Summary: Buck's had enough of his new captain already, and he tries to seek solace in his boyfriend, hoping to spend a night getting angry together. The conversation quickly switches into a physical need, and into a kink they would both experience for the first time together. A/N: This one's heavy and hot!! I go carried away and decided to join the two prompts together because I get including a bit of both into each other. This follows when Buck 'saves' Gerrard and is feeling conflicted. Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Tommy…” Buck manages to say with a shaky voice, interrupting the basketball game on TV, and Tommy hurries to mute it. “I need to tell you something.”

It had only been a few months, but Tommy was a pro of the Evan intonation chart, and the way his name came out pinched his heart. Not only that, but Tommy knew there was something wrong as soon as he had walked into the loft before dinner; from the lack of prolonged eye contact to the way Evan stayed in lounge clothes after his shower - he always puts jeans and a nice shirt on when they have dinner. He thinks it’s a bad call at work, but it could also be trouble with Captain Asshat.

It’s usually the latter.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

When Evan doesn’t follow with a question or complaint, Tommy prompts him further;

“You know…” He reaches over to run some fingers in Evan’s untamed curls. “I only love it when you're silent if you’re on your knees.” There’s a twitch in the corner of Evan’s mouth, but Tommy’s not convinced. He brings his hand down to the back of his head, and Evan lets it fall forward violently with a sob, giving Tommy a non-verbal answer. There’s a moment where Tommy wants to pull him close, stuff him in his shirt and let him cry it out. But a previous challenging conversation had allowed him to know it’s better to let Evan think it through and reach out on his own. So he settles his free hand on Evan’s thigh, massaging his nape with the other.

“I couldn’t believe Hen when she used to talk about him, and all the things he did to her,” Evan starts. His nostrils flare but he’s still breathing steadily. “She laughed about it as she was remembering it all, but I don’t think it's a laughing matter.”

“Everyone copes differently, honey. I remember Hen was already cracking jokes about it when I was still at the 118 and Bobby took over.” He pauses, studies. Evan shakes his head and scuffs, like he doesn’t believe him.

“He really did a number on me, Tommy. Ho-how can someone be so-”

“Not like you?” Tommy finishes. His question is greeted with a stern look as Evan sits up straighter and turns towards him. He must have expected his boyfriend, who was under the same predicament some years ago to take his side so they could take turns bashing Gerrard. But;

“How can you not be mad? He’s insufferable and grotesque and I don’t even think he’s allowing himself to show his full potential,” Evan says, his face reddening.

“Why do you really want to talk about him, Evan? You’ll only get yourself riled up.” Tommy raises a brow and searches for the shift of colour in Evan’s eyes. It’s a second later when he reaches for his hands and adds something about Evan being a trustworthy partner, a good person, that the dots connect. 

“I-I think.” Tommy doesn’t like the new emotion in his boyfriend’s eyes. He scooches closer, holds Evan’s shoulders and nods for him to keep going.

“I think I wanted to hurt him. For hurting me. Nobody reacts, Tommy! Nobody wants him to stop! A-and he pushed me to my limit and-” 

“That’s not what I heard,” Tommy interrupts, trying to keep the gas away from the fire. Eddie was quick in keeping him in the loop of the event, knowing his best friend was going to spiral until they had confirmation that Gerrard was okay. Oddly enough, the entire crew wishes he’ll be okay.

“Let’s not dwell into the if’s and what’s of the situation, honey. How can I help you move onward?” Tommy lets himself burst into Evan’s bubble then, needing to show him he is understood and supported. He kisses his temple before continuing; “Gerrard will not change, but I want to help you get through this. Baby, I’ll do anything to see you at ease.”

“Tommy,” Evan replies, stretching the last syllable. His eyes turn dark behind the faint sheen of tears welling up. “I’m sorry, it’s all so much and I know he’s been mean to you but you’re, you’re so strong, and I can’t-” He stops to take a breath, brings his hand to his chest to soothe himself but the words fail him. 

Tommy reaches for Evan’s leg furthest from him and tugs until he’s got him straddling his lap. Evan is quick to lean forward and connect their mouths furiously. As with most things in their relationship so far, proximity comes easily and words that were left unspoken appear in the form of touches and sounds, and right now it’s in the hunger with which Evan maul’s his boyfriend’s face that foreshadows the mood for the upcoming hours. There’s teeth, and noses bumping, and saliva and a very baffled moan from Tommy;

“Evan, baby.” Tommy pulls him back merely an inch to breathe his name. “I think I know what you need, kitten, but you have to tell me.”

Evan takes an audible gulp and as he closes his eyes, brings his forehead to Tommy’s and then asks;

“Will-would you hurt me? Hurt me so I can feel it for days and focus on the physical pain when he asks me to wash the bathroom again.” He pulls back and toys with the buckle on Tommy’s belt. “I need to hurt because someone loves me, please.” There it is. The reason for the turmoil and why Evan didn’t want Tommy to diminish his anger, burn down the flame inside him that he needs help to extinguish. Even though Gerrard would most likely not step foot into the station for a while, Tommy’s happy to oblige. He takes note to unravel the rest of the trauma another day, for now he brings himself to his feet with Evan wrapped around him, and chuckles deep from his chest;

“Oh, sweet boy.”

*

“Sit on the bed, kitten.” Buck proceeds with the order while Tommy changes the lighting in the room to be much dimmer and sets his phone onto the dresser with a soft ballad playlist streaming through their portable speaker. He’s ecstatic, sitting patiently while his boyfriend takes care of every little detail, watching the way his body moves in his clothes as he walks away. He wonders why Tommy makes a round in the bathroom because all their necessities are in the bedside table. But Tommy comes back to his spot on the bed just as fast, standing between his spread legs and grabs Buck’s chin like he had for their first kiss, bringing their lips together in a rather chaste kiss for the context of the night.

“Promise me one thing,” Tommy says softly against Buck’s mouth, not entirely switched into his role yet. They’d played on the line of a dom/sub connection more than once, but it was more of an exchange of power between two cocky big men trying to make the other cum faster. This was new. This was the first “first” they would be sharing . And it worked better than Viagra on Buck’s already tense body.

“Anything daddy,” Buck follows, Tommy’s mouth spreads in a devilish grin.

“This is your moment. I will take pleasure in making you feel good, but we stop if you call it quits.” Tommy watches carefully into Buck’s eyes and it sends a shiver up his spine. He had pondered over asking Tommy for something like this for a while, but it always felt out of place. “I’ll need a safe word, because I feel like tears will be involved and they won’t make me stop.” 

Buck’s jaw goes slack at the drop in energy in the room. For a second before Tommy brings his thumb into his mouth, Buck finds himself in a dizzy spell, already mesmerized by the concept of getting physically hurt and turned-on simultaneously.

“Evan,” Tommy warns, pulling his thumb out with Buck’s lips tight around it.

“Chopper.”

“Aw, kitten. I love it.” Buck’s eyes water with pride when Tommy’s lips press on his forehead. “Alright, do you have an idea of what you actually-” Buck’s cutting him to the chase, hands already busy unbuckling his belt and pulling it out of the loops in a swift movement. He brings it behind his head, and in front of Tommy’s surprised expression, fastens it around his throat, making sure the metal digs deliciously in his skin.

“Fuck,” Tommy whimpers. He unbuttons his jeans and Buck busies himself with discarding his t-shirt. Before either of them can keep undressing, Tommy gets a hold of the dangling part of the belt by Buck’s shoulder and forces him to tilt his head up.

“You know I love and respect you, right?” Tommy punctuates with a proving kiss. Buck nods eagerly, eyes still glistening but full of admiration despite Tommy’s shift in posture and the blue of his eyes turning into tormented waters. Buck isn’t the biggest Tik Tok savvy, but he has stumbled upon the whole MaskTok parade before, and he’s slowly getting the whole hype behind it.

“Good, because it might feel like I don’t for a while.” Yeah, he fucking gets it.

There’s no time for adaptation and Buck’s quite thankful for that - not that he might have backed down, but he wants to make the most of their shared high. He knows this is going to ask a lot from Tommy, and he’s planning on benefiting every second. So when Tommy takes a step back and tugs on the belt, Buck’s falling to his knees with an exaggerated whine, like a sinner on judgement day.

He takes no time in taking Tommy’s pants the rest of the way down, and throws them blindly towards the hamper, his face already buried deep in the crease of Tommy’s thigh. He takes a deep breath, runs his hands up the back of Tommy’s thighs to ground himself, and he lets the scent burn through his nervous system like nitrous, cock filling up all the way until it jumps up onto his stomach. Tommy had given him a sample of a Poppers bottle he had at the bottom of his gym bag so they could fuck after exhausting shift a week back, but this… The raw masculinity of it all will never fail to get Buck’s body up and ready for his man.

Tommy’s dick sits pretty on his forehead, leaking impatiently all over his hair while Buck is busy bouncing his balls in his mouth. Tommy said it; this is your night. And Buck doesn’t half-ass anything in life, and he’s not going to start in the bedroom. Buck feels the faint pull of the belt around his neck, and he knows Tommy’s not about to let him down either.

He pops Tommy’s balls out of his mouth after tugging them down gently, and with the gathered saliva, he flattens his tongue to the underside of Tommy’s dick and slicks him up from base to tip. Buck doesn’t tease for very long. As soon as the saltiness of Tommy’s precum hit his tongue the flames of arousal took over and he found himself with his lips wrapped around Tommy to about half of him. He’s a challenge, that man, but Buck was born an overachiever. He bobs off, and on, and off, until he’s satisfied with how slippery the situation is, and with another deep breath he leans forward until his nose folds onto Tommy’s pubes.

“Good booooy,” Tommy praises, growling. When Buck looks up, Tommy’s head is tilted to the ceiling and he can see him swallow; a non-verbal praise he had quickly caught on. Buck pulls back entirely, coughing up a string of sticky saliva that he catches with his hand to stroke Tommy while he prepares for war. It’s not long before Tommy huffs in a tone that would usually be hurtful and diminishing, but it’s doing it for the both of them. His gaze meets Buck’s, his eyes black;

“I need to feel that throat again.” Tommy tells him, tugging on the belt as encouragement.

It would probably not surprise anyone - if he could talk about his bedroom prowesses at work - that Buck is even more of a sucker for success with his partner. He never really understood the whole shtick of dominating someone in bed, because to him that had always been obvious seeing he was bigger than his previous partners. But now that he’s on his knees, hearing them scream against the cold wooden floor, with his mouth covered in precum and his life perilously handed to a man arguably bigger than himself, he gets it. And he wants to live in this state of mind forever. Because he had already given his whole heart to Tommy anyway, so what’s a little erotic breath play on a cosy Thursday night.

“I’m all yours,” Buck says simply with a cheeky wink.

Buck leans forward with the pull so he can swallow him down again and he moans until it’s physically impossible for his vocal cords to vibrate, letting the weight of Tommy’s dick settle onto his tongue. There’s the saltiness, the satin of his skin and the pattern of his veins that all send his brain into a trance. Buck sucks, bobs, licks. He’s handling Tommy like he’d been doing this since his college years, using the tips and tricks he had watched happen to him many times. The tongue twist, the slit probing and even the faint drag of his teeth around him. Buck knew them all, and sucking dick had easily become a top three sexual act of his.

The belt twists a little so that the handle sits behind his head, bringing him to pull back until his lips are wrapped around Tommy’s tip. The buckle tugs at the raised hair on his nape, and he looks up, knowing Tommy’s about to make this all about him and Buck anchors his hands onto his knees. Tommy pulls out entirely, purses his lips and nods down at Buck who eagerly opens his mouth and waits. Then Tommy spits into his mouth and he’s being shoved back onto his dick with no time to swallow.

“You’re a fucking vision on your knees,” Tommy jokes though he’s very much smug about it and his face is scrunched in a stern look. Buck would have chuckled at the recall, but what comes out is a muffled cough that bubbles up the saliva around his mouth and wets Tommy’s bush. His cheeks redden nonetheless at the compliment.

*

Evan is thrown unceremoniously onto his stomach at the edge of the bed, and Tommy has to keep himself from apologizing, his default threatening to pop out every now and then as if he hadn’t just been pumping himself into Evan’s face until the poor man nearly puked. They had established signals, so that was always evaded - it didn’t keep a pool of saliva from forming on the ground though, and for Evan’s face to look like a slip-n-slide.

“You know how fucking proud I am, kitten?” Tommy’s leaning his entire weight over Evan’s back, whispering in his ear. He reaches to undo the belt and loop it off of Evan’s neck, cupping his jaw to turn his face into a searing kiss.

“Tha-thank you daddy,” Evan gargles the words as best he can.

Much like the beginning of the session, Evan waits for Tommy’s commands or for a nudge into the next phase, and Tommy’s high on the power he’s entrusted with. He stands back straight and settles the belt onto Evan’s back, just for safekeeping and proceeds to dance his thumb over his asshole. It’s not much different from their usual love making; firm circles just on the outside of the muscle until he can feel Evan relax for him and he can intrude his body with ease. Though this time he may have reached the last knuckle in a few seconds shorter, no spit nor lube, guided by the mere excitement of his eager partner wolfing down his every move.

“Where do you want it to hurt, Evan?” He’s nice enough to ask, but he punctuates his question with a hard slap to the soft flesh of Evan’s ass. He’s not pushy this time, letting him make his mind on what would be following him for presumably the next week or so.

“M-my stomach?”

“Why are you asking me, kitten? Unless you want me to cho-”

“N-no, please. I want it to be my stomach,” Evan corrects with a high-pitched whine. He wiggles his body against Tommy’s and Tommy has to warn him with another slap. He pulls out his thumb and throws the belt on the other end of the bed before flipping Evan to his back and pointing him to climb a little higher. Tommy sees the never fading amazement in Evan’s eyes at how easy he is to be tossed around, and Tommy gleams at the silent praise and has to keep his smile from ruining his dom façade.

“Colour, baby?” Tommy says. He settles himself between Evan’s legs and brings them to wrap around his waist.

“Green. So fucking green Tommy!”

Tommy takes a deep breath for his own sake, for the actions he’s about to commit and how long he’s going to have to hold his pleasure back while watching Evan go through a spiral of emotions. He spits into his hand for good measure and adds it to the drying mess on his dick. He plunges into Evan just as smoothly as his thumb had despite the short prep, just halfway through to build suspense. Their unison groan fills the room over the faint hum of guitar.

“Please,” Evan whispers, and Tommy snaps seeing his face. He grabs the back of Evan’s knees and folds him until he can reach his face to kiss him again. And again, until their lips sting and they’re panting together and while Tommy’s got his eyes level with Evan’s, he penetrates him to the brim, seeing the whole body shiver run between them and finishing in yet another tear down his cheek. Tommy leans down to lick at it while he starts moving his hips in calculated thrusts, fingers digging painfully into Evan’s calves as he finds leverage. The belt sits right in the corner of his eyes and Tommy sighs, leaning to soothe Evan’s throat with kisses where it had left red streaks into his skin, before he leans back onto his heels and wraps the metal of the buckle into his hand, leaving just about ten inches of loose leather coming out of his fist. He kneads into the flesh just under Evan’s belly button with his free hand. He massages and slaps it lightly between every other grab, remembering how everything needs its own preparation.

Evan’s cock is leaking between them, standing full-mast and bobbing in tide with Tommy’s steady thrusts. Tommy wraps his hand around it, giving it much needed attention before he presses it onto his own stomach and out of the way of his first strike. The leather screams against Evan’s right side, the rectangular mark puffing up in a second. Given the continuous spasms of Evan’s dick in his hand and how he grips the sheets like he does from a rough dicking down, Tommy knows he’s doing something right. So he bites his bottom lip and takes his right hand down to smack the other side, with just a little more meaning behind his movement. Then another above the right one, and another down the middle.

“You’re doing so good, kitten. Daddy’s so proud of how strong you are.” He keeps his voice low, rumbling from his burning gut and he focuses on fucking into him harder for a few minutes. He’s achingly hard. He’s immensely turned on. With every subtle green light Evan is giving him, Tommy proceeds with the matter at hand, keeping his promise and pushing his own pleasure on the back burner for a fleeting moment. Without pause, he gives both sides of Evan’s stomach unforgiving strikes, the last one creating enough friction to bring up blood. When Tommy’s assured that it doesn’t run out like an open wound, he follows the attack with another wave of thrusts, and he lets himself savour it while Evan catches his breath; his lips coming down to Evan’s right nipple to play with, while his left hand keeps a uniform pattern tugging and twisting around his very sticky dick. When he goes to sit back again, Evan tugs onto his arm;

“Ch-chopper,” he whimpers. “I’m, I’m okay. I just...” Tommy kisses his cheek and the floodgates open. He unravels the belt from his hand and it clunks onto the floor, and Tommy wraps his arms under Evan’s shoulders to envelop him, squeezing his face in the crook of his shoulder.

*

“I got you, baby. You did so good.” Tommy kisses up his neck, up his jaw, up his hairline. “You did so good,” he repeats, then takes the opportunity to flip them around so he can let Buck breathe and Tommy runs his hands onto his skin. He tells Buck to sync his breaths with his, to focus on the beat of his heart and he’ll be alright. Then Tommy starts humming to “Wild Love” by James Bay and once Buck starts listening attentively to the lyrics echoing through the room, his body finds ground and he immediately settles. If he’s being honest with himself, he could easily take more of the physical pain. The burn and sting are still throbbing through his entire body and he’s loving it. And he’s loving that Tommy was there with him and agreed wholeheartedly to this peculiar demand. But the entire point of the act was to burst the angering aura around him, and sadly that happened sooner than later. Tommy stretches away for a second to retrieve the box of tissues and Buck laughs at the gesture, joking about how his face must be in need of a buffer after everything.

Then Tommy brings him into another hug, and their dicks frot involuntarily between their bodies, making Buck hiss. He turns even redder.

“I’m so close, Tommy. Fuck, you were so hot all controlling.” Evan pants into his neck, a mixture of excitement and the last few sobs of his exhaustion. “A-are you..?”

“Evan, sweetheart, I had to crisp my body so many times to not ruin your moment. I can get us there quickly and we can see if a round two in the shower is something possible?” Tommy wiggles his brows, his goofiness back once the mask fell off. Buck’s heart skips a beat, and he grabs Tommy’s face to kiss him yet again.

“Get on your back, old man.” They both laugh though there’s a small hint of “you’re gonna get it” in Tommy’s that he intends on proving. Buck is quicker however, and pins Tommy down with a big hand to his chest, while the other aligns him to his entrance. He makes quick work into sitting completely onto Tommy, and they both sigh and get grabby immediately. Buck leans forward, finding support on Tommy’s collarbones while he finds it in himself to work his sore muscles. He rocks up and down, swirls for a second and repeats. He whines when Tommy brings his hand onto his waist, his thumbs scraping over his marks deliciously in a silent plea for control. He sits back until he can reach for Tommy’s thighs and anchors himself, the skin on his stomach pulling so slightly with the position. Tommy keeps a strong grip onto his hips and starts fucking up into him, letting his dick come right at the edge and then slamming back in, hitting all the right spots that has Buck moaning and sweating again in seconds.

Buck lets his head lull back, letting the collection of feelings take the reins and bring him over the edge. 

“Tommy!” His body goes slack, bar his dick which happily jumps with every spurt that comes out - twelve times, he counted - all over Tommy’s already glistening stomach, and it doesn’t take long before Tommy’s pulling him down so he can groan his own release into his mouth, lips barely touching but the action overflows with meaning. They take up each other’s oxygen for another five, six, or ten minutes; none of them really knowing how long they stayed in that position because the exhaustion crept in suddenly.

“So, that was okay?” Tommy whispers and Buck chuckles. 

“Yes. That was perfect,” Buck replies and pulls back a few inches. “Thank you, honestly.”

“Anything for you, baby. I told you.” 

“I could get used to that.” Buck sits up slowly, noticing how every single joint screams in terror of having to get his body anywhere in the next twenty-four hours. Luckily;

“How about a hot shower? And hot tea? And cuddling with your hot boyfriend?” Tommy sing-songs as he sits up as well, eyeing the clock. He gets up, and Buck admires him with a slight surprise; maybe he will have to stop teasing him about his age because clearly the Muay Thai is keeping him in splendid shape.

“You can ogle all you want in the shower, Evan. All you gotta do is stand there and be pretty and I’ll do all the rest!” 

“I love you, Tommy.” Buck sighs dreamily and finally gets up.

“I love you too, Evan”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future works!

[sailoryooons]

🧡🎃 my queen. i have been sent here by the guardians of the moons to slip a drabble request of spooky-weenie love. we can keep it rated pg 13, imply relationship/smut if you desire. however i shall be here — looking for the young lad taehyung, dressed up as prince charming at a heavily intoxicated halloween party. frantically searching for his partner, oc!cinderella, as he realizes the strap to one of her heels have broke and she is walking around barefoot without her shoes on (typical cinderella amirite?) and as the goodest of boyfies — he is just trying to take care of his girl. oh, and he discovers — after searching throughout the entire complex — that she has accidentally gone overboard after her last intense and competitive game of beer pong and oc has found solace in a bush outside the house 😂😅🥹 to where her tiara sits crooked on top of her drunken head and her prince charming comes to assist her with whatever else has gone wrong 🤪🧡

❀ Pairing: Taehyung x f. reader

❀ Summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes. 

❀ Word Count: 1,657

❀ Genre: Established relationship, Fluff, Drunken Silliness

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Taehyung is a simp!!! Recreational drinking, reader is absolutely tanked but in a funny way, Taehyung is drunk but not as drunk, general descriptions of being drunk, one very sweet kiss, talks about toes djgdogidjgid, one sexual thought slipping through Taehyung’s brain

❀ Published: October 10, 2023

❀ A/N: THIS IS FOR MY QUEEN MAGGIE!!! MY BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL SAILOR MAGGIE! Everyone is just going to have to accept the bit about the toes and the running around barefoot in this because listen - we had a vision and I stuck with it and!!! Taehyung just loves her even if she’s ten-toe hogging it around a party with no zappatos on!! This was so fun and sweet to write and my god I need to write Taehyung more because I’m so down bad  for him rgoidjgodijgdoigj. THIS IS ONLY GRAMMARLY EDITED SFODIGJ PLEASE FORGIVE ME EVERYONE. 

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests |

When Taehyung sees the silver pair of heels kicked off outside of Jimin’s bathroom, he knows it’s over for you. He still can’t help but smile, bending down to scoop them up by the straps, dangling off of his fingers. 

Jimin’s house is full of creatures and goblins and ghouls and in Taehyung’s case, a prince. The itchy fabric of the Prince Charming costume is nearly insufferably where it rubs at his neck, the overcoat sweltering in the heated atmosphere of the Halloween party. 

Music thumps as Taehyung navigates out of the hall, swiveling his head as he goes. Fifteen minutes ago you had announced rather loudly - and with a wicked lean that nearly knocked over the beer pong table you’d been championing - that had to relieve yourself. Taehyung watched with a buzzed grin as you picked your way toward the hall, lifting the skirts of your Cinderella dress to avoid anyone tramping on it. 

Now, there’s no Cinderella dress in sight. 

Taehyung pops into the kitchen, hoping to find you drinking water. Only Yoongi hides in the kitchen, ripping off the cat ears Hoseok has stuck on his head. Taehyung spots the fridge and realizes that you might want water when he finds you. He needs water to find you, the room spinning a little and his mouth still awash with the aftertaste of the witches' brew Seokjin had plied him with. 

“Have you seen Cinderella anywhere?” Taehyung asks Yoongi.

Yoongi scowls as he wets his hands under the faucet and starts wiping at the cat nose on his face. 

“I think she went out in the backyard. Something about a pumpkin at midnight.” Taehyung snickers and shakes his head. “She was also missing shoes. And said something about pong champ.”

Taehyung holds up the items in question. “I think she might have crushed it a little too much at the pong table. She's running around barefoot”

“Well, it is Halloween. Maybe she’s in touch with the Hallow’s Eve or whatever Or your princess turned into a werewolf and is currently howling like a fiend.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with your cat nose.”

“Good luck with your princess. Or werewolf.”  

Little does Yoongi know, Taehyung is always lucky with you. From the day that he bumped into you in a coffee shop, to the first date you went on, to years later, sharing an apartment above the coffee shop you love so dearly, Taehyung has been lucky every day. 

He grins thinking about it, opening up the back door and heading into the year. It’s a crispy night, cool air brushing against the sweat gathered at the back of his neck. He pauses for a moment to shrug out of the itchy, cornflower blue overcoat of his Prince Charming costume to reveal a white tee. 

Tying the coat around his waist, Taehyung surveys the yard. There’s no one outside that he can see, but the porch lights reflect all the way to the fence. Jogging down the steps, he glances up at the sky. It’s the perfect night, a thousand stars mapped across the world in perfect silence. 

It makes sense that you would come out here, he thinks. You love to look at the stars, but most of all, Taehyung knows you’d like to lie down somewhere and look at the skies after having something to drink. Knowing you, you’d have come out for fresh air after realizing how drunk you were in the bathroom, only to get distracted by the sky.

He loves that about you, though. Loves that he can somehow piece together the way your mind works, loves that the natural course of trajectory for you was through the kitchen and out into the yard with a flippant comment about a pumpkin. 

“Jagiya?” Taeyhung calls out, warm breath fogging in front of him.

“Pa-riiiiince!” 

Taehyung turns around to look at the garden. He raises his brows when he sees your legs sticking out from the mulch. He presses his hand to his mouth, trying to conceal his laughter and shock that you are crushing Jimin’s marigolds. 

He jogs over to you, finding you on your back with your hands tucked behind your head. You don’t seem to mind that you’re splat in the middle of flowers and dirt, your misty eyes fixated up on the sky with your mouth open in a dizzy smile. 

You look radiant. Bathed in moonlight, eyes wide and lost in the sky. Even if your crown is a little crooked and your dress is a little stained, Taehyung feels his heart rate speed up. You may be dressed as a princess for the night, but you look like a goddess. Ethereal. 

Taehyung feels a little dizzy. You reach for him and he complies, unable to say no to you as he sits and feels the marigolds crush under his ass. Your hands are warm and soft in his as you sigh in delight, thrilled to see him. 

“The stars are so wonderful,” you breathe. You turn your head. He notices the yellow petals stuck in your hair. Your face changes from wonder to something else. Adoration, he thinks. Taehyung’s stomach flips as you squeeze his hand. “Almost as beautiful as my Prince Charming.”

“My Cinderella is beautiful too.” He holds your shoes up. “Even if she is running around ten-toeing it, barefoot in the middle of the night.” 

You squeal, making grabby hands at the shoes. He lets you have them, laughing as you grab them and hold them to your chest, closing your eyes. Your head lulls to the side and he can see the sleepiness pulling at your edges. 

“You’re sloshed, huh?”

“Like a coke slushie from the movie, Your Princely-Highness-Lord.” 

He can’t fight his grin. “Have you had any water?”

“Champions don’t drink water.” He holds out the bottle of water to you anyway. You reach for it but miss several times before your greedy little fingers get a hold of it. As he lets it go, you loose  your grip and it hits you square in the face. “Motherfucker, the water is attacking the champion!”

Time to get you home.

“It’s after midnight, Princess Champion. We gotta hitch a ride on the pumpkin.”

“Get the cat to drive,” you mutter, not opening your eyes. “He was trying to wipe his nose off in the kitchen.”

Picking himself off the ground, Taehyung manages to get you up and dusted off. You sway in front of him, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He can see the desire boiling there, and though it makes the blood rush to his groin, he ignores it, knowing you both need bed. 

Kneeling down, Taehyung slips your shoes back on. He’s careful, lifting your feet by the ankle to delicately slide the straps up. You’re nearly asleep as he works, eyes fluttering as his touch skims along your cooling skin. It’s only then he realizes that your shoe is broken and that leaving it on your foot and having you walk is dangerous. 

Sighing, he takes them back off, intent to carry you to the Uber and up to your apartment. His fingers make you wake up a little, swinging your head down as you say, “Hey weirdo. I have a boyfriend - a prince, to be exact - and he wouldn’t appreciate you touching my toes. Those are his.”

Taehyung laughs and stands up. He looks down his nose at you. You have to tilt your head back to see him, breath coming out in sweet little puffs that smell like juice. “Oh,” you say as Taehyung lowers his mouth, nose brushing yours. “You’re my boyfriend. These are your toes.” 

“They are,” he agrees. He steals a sweet kiss from you. Your mouth is warm against his, lips softer than ever. A shiver ripples through him as you melt into his touch, content to put your weight on him and let him hold you up. He always will. “Let’s get those toes home and in a pair of Sailor Moon socks, hmm?”

“Yeeeees.” 

The Uber home is quiet. You immediately lean into Taehyung, smashing him against the door as you knock out. He smiles all the same, wrapping a warm arm around you. He kisses your head before leaning his forehead against the window, feeling the cool glass bring him all the way back to sober. 

Lights blur by outside. Orange and purples of Halloween, smears of costumes, and partygoers coming and going from their haunts for the evening. Once you’re at your apartment, he rouses you and lifts you up, carrying you up the stairs as you go. Your crown only falls off your head once, which he dutifully sets you on the ground to collect so you don’t loose - in your words - the honor of your kingdom. 

You sprint the rest of the way to your apartment then, tearing through the halls in your bear feet until you’re inside and on the bed panting, completely in disarray. 

Two glasses of water, pajamas, and Sailor Moon socks later, you’re crashed in the bed, snoring lightly. Taehyung grins at your form, opening the drawer of the dresser where he stores his pajamas. Seeing you in your shared bed in his shirt, hand reaching out looking for him is the perfect end to this night. 

Sliding into a t-shirt and sleep pants, he moves to close the drawer before he hesitates. At the bottom of the drawer is a black, velvet box. It’s perfectly square, and Taehyung smiles when he sees it, thinking about the way your eyes were starry and lost as you looked at the sky. He pulls a shirt over it - it only needs to be hidden for a few more days. 

Shutting the drawer he turns to look at you. His sleeping beauty, now. 

Biting his bottom lip, Taehyung laughs. It’s after midnight, but your spell on him isn’t broken. It never will be. And he cannot wait to slide the ring on your finger instead of sliding slippers on your feet.

[rebelumbrella46]

HOTD 2X02 "Rhaenyra The Cruel" Thoughts!

Green Side:

Aegon: Tom's performance as Aegon was exceptional, allowing me to sympathize with his character throughout the episode. I could deeply feel Aegon's pain and rage, especially in moments where he needed comfort and was denied. Alicent’s inability to provide motherly solace was striking; even Cersei, in all her madness, was a more nurturing mother. Aegon's inadequacies as a king are clear—he’s young and impulsive. One of the episode's standout scenes is Otto reprimanding him, realizing the monumental mistake he made in thinking Aegon could be controlled. Aegon will never be as pliable as Viserys. This parallels the frustration Daemon feels with Rhaenyra, who, ironically, exhibits the patience and indecision that mirror her father.

Otto: Otto is a character I love to hate, and the actor’s portrayal this episode was a highlight for me. His regret and frustration with Aegon’s choices were palpable, showing that karma is catching up to him. I also appreciated the subtle grief Otto displayed when speaking of Viserys, indicating a complex mix of respect and genuine care despite his actions. The scene where he dismisses Alicent’s attempt to seek solace was particularly telling—it highlighted a pattern where comfort is consistently denied, first to Alicent and then by her to Aegon.

Alicent: Alicent was insufferable this episode; I found it impossible to empathize with her. She continually makes the situation about herself, oblivious to her children’s suffering and unable to provide them with any comfort. As someone who has read the books and knows how her story ends, all i can say is that the Gods for more cruel that they are, wouldn't take it out on an innocent child for the crimes you have committed and in the end the punishment would be ten times worst.. a very fitting end if they decide to go for it.

Aemond: Aemond had a brief but significant moment where he confessed his feelings over the incident with Luke. This scene showed a level of remorse that sets him apart from Daemon, particularly in this episode. Aemond’s awareness of the pain his actions cause to others and the brewing rivalry between him and Daemon were well portrayed.

Helaena: Helaena, my poor sweet child, continues to be a character I deeply care for. She doesn’t seem to appreciate the public’s sympathy, as if she knows the whole situation is wrong. And knows these people could so easily turn on her, i'm pretty sure she saw it even. The citizens of King’s Landing have long been depicted as some of the most unsavory characters in the history of Westeros. Their actions and attitudes throughout the series often highlight their fickle and ruthless nature. This is why, every time I recall Daenerys burning the city, I find it difficult to muster any sympathy for them.

The brief encounter on the stairs, where Aegon denies her comfort, reinforces the pattern of emotional neglect seen throughout the episode.

Criston Cole: I have to give immense credit to the writers for their incredible work in depicting Criston Cole. With each episode, my hatred for this character grows exponentially. Kudos to the actor as well, who is doing a marvelous job. But honestly, every time Cole appears on screen, all I can think is: "How much longer until this guy meets his end? Hopefully, it's a very horrible one.". His manipulation of Arryk, sending him to his death, was disgusting.

What’s even more infuriating is Cole's blatant hypocrisy. He projects his own shame and regret onto others, acting as if he's on some moral high ground. His self-righteousness is maddening, especially given his own shady actions. I found myself wishing Otto would expose him in front of Aegon—reveal how, while Aegon's child was being murdered, Cole was with Alicent, another person whose hypocrisy drives me mad. (Like Aerys "the Mad King" kind of mad, wanting to see them both burn)

Despite showing guilt for his actions, he repeatedly makes the same mistakes. The only moment Alicent gained a bit of my appreciation was when she reminded Cole of his betrayal of Rhaenyra’s trust for his absolution last season.

i truly don't want to see anymore of Alicent and Cole intimate scenes.

The decision to name Cole as Hand of the King is a boon for Team Black, as he is likely to make poor decisions and counsel Aegon poorly, ultimately working in their favor.

Black Side:

Rhaenyra standing up to Daemon was a powerful moment. Their confrontation, though painful to watch, was necessary. Daemon’s actions have deeply wounded Rhaenyra, and his lack of remorse is entirely in character. His abrupt departure leaves Rhaenyra in a position where, despite knowing he loves her, she can no longer trust that he will remain by her side.

I'm interested to see what his reaction will be next episode when he finds out that Rhaenyra was almost killed on her bed right after he left her to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Rhaenyra’s concern and regret for Helaena were touching. I believe she would welcome Helaena if she ever chose to leave the Greens. However, I was uneasy about Rhaenyra sending Baela instead of Jace. While I understand her reluctance to risk her heir after losing a child, it felt dismissive of Baela's well-being, who we have to remember is still Rhaenyra's step-daughter.

Baela and Jace: The brief scene where Baela confesses her occasional hatred for Daemon was surprising but added depth to her character. Jace reminiscing about Harwin and Laenor was a nice touch, evoking memories of characters I miss, including Luke.

Rhaenys: As always, Rhaenys remains my favorite character on Team Black. Her knowing look at Daemon, recognizing that only he could have orchestrated such actions, was telling. The quiet moment between Rhaenys and Corlys, reflecting their mutual support despite not being Queen and King, contrasted sharply with the dysfunctional relationships of Viserys and Aemma, Viserys and Alicent, and even Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Mysaria: Mysaria was another highlight for me. Her decision to speak truth to Rhaenyra and return her kindness by saving her life suggests a budding alliance. Rhaenyra needs someone as cunning and insightful as Mysaria to advise her.

The Twins - Arryk and Erryk: The twins' final fight was heartbreaking. Although I wish we had seen more of them this season, their confrontation poignantly illustrated the perils of war and how it harms even those not directly involved in the conflict.

I’m looking forward to seeing Daeron, who was finally mentioned. I can’t help but think he might be the only salvageable son of Alicent, likely because he grew up away from her and Otto’s influence. I’d love to see more of Rhaena and am eager to meet characters like Hugh Hammer and Adam. The brief return of Seasmoke was a pleasant surprise—I missed seeing him too!

Overall, this episode was much stronger than the last.

Rest in peace little Jaehaerys.

P.S: Don't think i didn't see Visenya's and Vhagar's mention this episode, on the book Rhaenyra opens. My favorite Conqueror and targaryen woman. I cannot wait for The Conquest Prequel. So excited

[elfwoodfae]

Writing’s On The Wall

Quantum Of Solace (Chapter-4)

Warnings: Masturbation.

Author’s note: I loved this chapter, I enjoyed writing it, let me know what you think. Also I made the moodboard from editing pics to putting it together, if you want to use it or share it just tag me!

Quantum Of Solace.

The light of the screen illuminates your face, the room around you is dark, cold, giving the feeling of being locked up in a nightmare. A single tear rolls down your face as Christina’s words echos through your mind, is as if he was a completely different man. Your fingers move to the rewind button once again, playing the scene once more; the screen shows Harrison, looking at the camera, sitting in his chair before he abruptly gets up, walking to a board, talking about how he managed to keep a diary, symbols you had never seen are written on the board, he seems euphoric, as if this breakthrough was his salvation.

Ripping the drive your had found a few minutes earlier off the computer, when you were rummaging through his things, you walk over to the kitchen, looking for the phone as thunder roars over the skylight, lighting illuminating the room. Your finger begging to dial, hands shaking and your breathing becomes erratic as panic settles on you. She had been right, something was definitely very wrong with this man, he was pretending to be paraplegic.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His voice echos through the house, making you turn your head around, eyes going wide as you see him sitting in front of you, you hadn’t even heard him coming in.

“You are faking it!” Comes your accusation, your eyes are glossy and your hands shaky.

“I’m calling the police, you…” you point at him with your phone.

“You are not going to get away with this, you are lying to everyone, I knew there was something off with you.” You finish, finger about to dial when movement catches the corner of your eye.

Gripping the armrest of his chair he gets up, taking his glasses off and throwing them on the chair, the darkness around you both only briefly interrupted by lightning falling from the sky, illuminating his silhouette briefly.

“I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” He half whispers tilting his head slightly to the side, looking almost pained to having to do whatever he will do next, before taking a step towards you, the realization of how tall he is hits you, leaving you breathless as you take a step back, your hand quickly opening a drawer and taking a knife in your hand, lifting it in his direction.

“Stay right there!” Your voice tries to sound confident, strong, but the shakiness and fear in it gives away how you really feel. He knows you are terrified, he knows he has the upper hand, he has you cornered at his mercy.

“How ironic, being threatened with a knife.” He smirks, moving closer in your direction, he can see the way your hand shakes, making the grip unsteady.

“Back off, I’m calling the police,” your finger is about to graze the dial button when a storm hits you, suddenly the phone is long gone and Harrison is behind you, his body pressed firmly to your back as he pushes you against the counter, his much bigger hand covering the hand holding the knife as he squeezes yours, erupting a scream off your lips at the pain he is inflicting trying to get you to drop the knife.

Throwing all the strength you have into your back you try to push him off of you, failing miserably, his body barely giving into your attempt, panic is settling fast over you, your mind racing for a way out and suddenly the only idea you can come up with is to try and somehow kick him in the balls. But the moment your feet start to move is as if he had seen it in slow motion, he managed to let go of your other hand before grabbing your feet, pulling you and throwing you off balance, turning you around, facing him as his hand grips your face.

“You were so close of making it out of here, but you had to go and meddle into things.” He half growls, a flicker of red illuminating his face briefly, his hand moves back, starting to vibrate in the hair as he purses his lips, his eyes turning a bright shade of red.

Realization dawns on you, he is one of them, one of those meta-humans going about, he is angry, you have angered him and now he most likely will kill you. Tears prickle your eyes and your mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

“Let me go!” You try, struggling with him, trying to break free but his hold on your face only tightens.

His hand slaps down on the counter behind you, rattling everything on it as a wiring noise fills your ears. His face moves closer to yours, the proximity of his body making you push yourself backwards into the kitchen island, making it dig painfully against your spine.

“Your chance to go is long gone,” he whispers.

“You are now stuck here, with me, and had you been more careful we could had both gone our ways and I would be free of your impertinence.” He angrily states, half whispering, half yelling on your face.

“Listen here, and listen carefully,” he squeezed your jaw harder, trying to make his point across.

“You will stay here until I have reached my goal, and you better behave because trust me,” he half chucked, watching the way your lips purse and your pulse quickens in fear.

“I can make you wish I had kill you, and don’t think for a moment I won’t know if you try anything. Don’t think you can outsmart me.” He says, before letting go of your face and moving out of your space, not before grabbing the phone out of your reach.

His eyes follow your form, seeing you run down the hall, tripping on your own feet as you try to go faster inside your room. Once he hears the door close, a sigh leaves his mouth, his hands running through his hair, frustration radiating off of him. This was a less than ideal situation, now he is stuck with you, stuck with your insufferable presence. The only gain he has on this is the ability to finally walk in his house, without having to hide, but the sole thought of having to share his space with you for longer than anticipated is enough to put him in a bad mood again.

The rest of the night Eobard threads through the house, his mind is in overdrive, thinking of any possible scenario, any possibilities where he would need to get rid of you. Your door remains locked through the night, and sometime after midnight he decides to retire to his own room, he needs to shower, to relax and take in as much calmness as he can given the circumstances. He sleeps on edge, constantly waking up, ready to speed if you as so much try anything, but you don’t, and he doesn’t see you leave your room when he leaves the next day. What he does see is you trying to leave, only to realize the door is locked, he sees you trying to connect with someone through the computer; he speeds to the house, catching you, scaring you as a red torment consumes you, he thanks Gideon for being able to see everything that goes on in the house through the cameras back at the lab, and he makes it clear he in not a patient man despite what it may look like on the outside, warning you for the last time.

The next couple of days pass by in haze, he sees you, wandering around the house once he is gone, you barely talk, barely eat, but he sees you looking into any possible way to leave. His pride hurts at the fact that he is aware he is not an insufferable man, he doesn’t want you with him, but he needs to ensure his plan. Perhaps a truce is in order but he won’t take the first step, too aware of how stubborn he can be. Thankfully back at the labs no one has brought you up anymore, everyone believing you are staying extra time for work, he doesn’t want to say you have left, he knows what the stakes are, keeping the lie simple is easier than over complicating it.

Walking through the door, late in the afternoon, he gets up from the chair, stretching his back, the front of his shirt riding up a little. He sets a pace, making his way to the kitchen only to stop mid way through. There on the middle of the room he notices you, looking at him, eyes cautious, a glass of wine in your hand. He raises his eyebrow as he looks at you and back at the glass.

“If you want to torture me here I may as well make the best of it.” You say, the glass almost overflowing, the comment making him snort.

“Trust me, keeping you here and torturing you are the last things on my mind.” He adds, continuing his stance to the decanter and grabbing a drink for himself.

“Then why won’t you let me go!” You insist, tire of trying to leave this place.

“Because I have worked too hard and too much for this, and you won’t ruin me, you won’t ruin it, have you not meddle into things you would be on your way by now.” He is getting mad, agitating himself.

Your lips purse as you whip around, successfully bumping your shoulder against his as you walk past him, putting extra effort into pushing him.

“Such a brat.” You hear him say, making you turn around and fist your hands at you side before huffing and stomping your feet in frustration.

“You are only adding to my point.” He teases you, pointing at you with his glass.

“Tess would be so disappointed in you!” You try to jab at his heart but his response only confuses you more.

“I wish I could say I care, but sadly I never knew her.” The sarcasm drips from his words, he notices how confusion takes over your features.

“My name is Eobard, Eobard Thawne. I’m not Harrison Wells, I’m not who you think I am.” He says, hand on his hips as he leans on the counter.

“What? How, how can you be someone you…” you trail off, your mind feels like a labyrinth of thoughts and questions.

“All you need to know is that I’m not Harrison Wells, but everyone needs to believe I am.” He says, pointing around you to an imaginary audience before taking the whole decanter and making his way to his own room.

The door shuts behind him, he releases a breath as he closes his eyes. This is becoming harder than he imagined, every interaction you share is fill with sarcasm or hate, he rejoices on teasing you, but he wishes he could simply void his mind of any thoughts regarding you. Sighting he makes his way to the bathroom, removing his jacket halfway through the room, followed by his long sleeve shirt as he passes in front of the floor length mirror, reflecting his body, his broad shoulders accompanied by ripped arms that seem to go on for miles; he stops, removing his pants, the curve of his ass is prominent and the muscles of his abdomen taunt, adorned by a trail of hair going all the way down his belly button, passing by the middle of a v line, reflecting a river one may desire to swim in.

Once in the bathroom he closes the door, scratching his neck, turning on the water on the all glass shower before going in. He removes the last piece of clothing before going under the stream of water. The hotness of it immediately reddens his skin, stealing a sight out of his mouth, the glass begins to fog around him and the memory of your body behind the glass door comes back to his mind. He wets his hair, hoping it will clear him of you but once his eyes close the only image behind them is the curve of your breast. The shape of your body, the color of your skin and that god forsaken hand running up your leg, running higher and higher and he feels his breath catching just imagining where it was heading to.

He feels uncomfortable, turning the water colder doesn’t seem to alleviate his problem and honestly he hates cold water. Regulating it once more he decides to approach this the only way he can, giving into a comfort he rarely indulges into. Taking a deep breath his hand moves to grasp himself, giving it a soft stroke, testing the waters before leaning his hand against the opposite wall for support. He moves his hand faster, the muscles on his abdomen contracting with every stroke of his hand, the veins on his neck beginning to show and his balls tightening, he feels his release close and he indulges in the memory of your perfume, what it would feel like to run his nose over the curve of your neck, down your shoulder, what it would feel like if it was his hand running against your leg, caressing your skin and moving higher to reach that place he so desperately feels the need to be in. With a sudden gasp his orgasm hits him, a grunt escaping him as his semen hits the floor, his hand still working to get him off completely. Once he is spent he can finally relax, letting out a breath as he throws his head back, allowing the water to run down his face and neck, washing away the anger he suddenly feels at not being able to control his own body, he hates you and he hates the reaction you bring out of him.

He looks at the clock, is sometime after 8:30 pm, his stomach rumbles and he considers if ordering Big Belly Burger is the best option. He runs the risk of someone seeing you but at the same time he hates the hassle it would create for him to go out on the wheelchair again to get the food himself. He decides on the later, grabbing the arm of the chair and speeding himself and the chair to get the food, only to be back in less than 10 minutes with bags in hand. He hates you but he can’t starve you, he is not that cruel. Walking to your room and knocking on the door, feeling himself growing annoyed when you take more than two seconds to open.

“What do you want?” Comes your response, the lack of manners you posses making a scowl appear on his face.

“You could be more grateful, I could let you starve you insufferable woman.” He says, annoyed already and regretting his decision of bringing you food.

“You are an insufferable man and I despise you, what kind of name is even Eobard, didn’t your parents love you?” That accusation jabs at his heart, opening a wound long forgotten and he hates how fucking spot on you have hit him.

Slamming the food down onto the floor with more force than necessary he speeds away, refusing to be there when you open the door, refusing to allow you to see how much it had affected him the pain the memory of his childhood brings him. Damn you and damn his kindness, you don’t deserve any of it.

You hear the bag slamming down, the quiet noise the air makes around you, he is gone, suddenly your words come back to you, he didn’t give you any sarcastic response, he didn’t even try to, maybe his childhood was a touchy subject you had inadvertently touched. Swinging your legs off the bed you run to the door, opening it faster than you intended to, only to find the bag of food in your step.

“Harrison” you call out before remembering that that’s not his name. Cursing lowly when silence greets you, guilt filling you as you realize that he was trying to be kind and you threw his efforts at his face.

“Hey come on, I didn’t mean it like that.” You try again, but there’s no response, he is gone.

Closing the door back you move to the bed, sitting down and opening the bag, he even added fries for you, and the gesture softens you a little and only adds to the guilt. He didn’t ask for you to be here the same way you didn’t ask to be here. He is having to put up with someone coming and slamming everything around for him. Even after all the unanswered questions you have it still comes as a shock that you don’t really know this man, he is a complete stranger who you are sure hates this more than you. Oblivious to you, in the other end of his house, his food lays untouched, his hands tangled in his hair. He has lost his appetite and the need to create chaos fills him, the only way he knows how to cope, how to adapt. Adjusting the ring on his finger he moves away from the bed, pulling his suit with a flick of his hand before phasing through it. A nightmare in yellow speeding out of the house, ready to destroy, ready to hurt the same way he has been hurt over and over again. He wants to destroy, he wants to hurt and he hates that the only thing it took for a storm to unleash was you.

@steamjunk90

@tacowells101

@wellsaddict

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

@mintchipcupcake

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 2 (Nessian AU)

A/N: DO inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse and Swearing

1957 words | Part 1 | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He waited for the day he would forget the woman’s face. He waited for the day he could close his eyes without seeing her blue-grey eyes blazing in anger. He waited for the day he wouldn’t burn his bacon because he was thinking about her.

He had mused, how the face of a stranger was branded into his mind vividly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if they’ve known each other before or have seen each other somewhere, anywhere before the day in the mall—even if on photographs or at an event or at another shopping mall. Still, he desperately wanted to forget about her. He wanted to forget that she ever existed. He wanted to forget their encounter in the mall that day. He wanted to forget everything about her, even though deep down, he knew what he wanted was far from forgetting her.

But he couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to think about her at all times. He was getting distracted at work. His part-time job as a martial-arts instructor and as a sommelier was in a precarious position if it went on like this. He nearly tore one of his student’s muscles in his centre and got at least 5 orders wrong at the restaurant he was working at.

On a Saturday noon, Cassian decided the best way to clear his head was to dive into a war book or reread Secrets Of The Sommeliers for probably the millionth time.

* * *

Nesta flinched at the sudden ping of the oven timer. Again. She’d been thinking about him again. This was the fourth time in the whole week when she burned her cheese sandwich and she was getting so tired of this. She urgently needed a way to stop thinking about him. To stop seeing his insufferable grin whenever she closed her eyes. To stop thinking about him at almost all times.

It struck her as odd, the fact they didn’t even know each other’s names but she kept seeing his face as if they’ve known each other before. She gasped. What if they had known each other before? What if they were probably neighbours from Nesta’s old house or classmates or maybe they went to the same college. Nesta shook her head.

But why should she care? No, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what his name is or if he even has a name. She doesn’t care if she’s had the misfortune of seeing him before or if that was the first she’s seeing him. Or so she kept telling herself. She couldn’t afford to have him occupy her thoughts. She had better things to do. But all these excuses weren't enough to stop her from still thinking about him.

Nesta looked at her clock. It was a Saturday, almost noon. Maybe reading a spicy book or two will help.

* * *

Cassian loved the House of Wind library and bookstore. They had a variety of books in almost any genre. He'll admit though, that some of the librarians here are better left alone. He was lucky he came here often and therefore knew a handful of the merrier librarians. He made a beeline for his favourite section, books related to wine, best books for sommeliers.

On his way to the shelves he had committed to memory, he realised that there was a big poster about their annual Free Premium Membership Fest where 20 fortunate, early birds would get their membership card updated to premium with a number of privileges. Cassian's whole being was elevated. He missed the last fest they held and had been waiting for the next fest. He wondered how he could forget such an important thing. Oh. Right. Of course. A certain lady was occupying his thoughts. He sighed. He forgot about that too.

He was quite disappointed when he reached the counter. The fest started yesterday and the computer stated that there was only one person left till 20. What truly disappointed him was that Clotho wasn't at the counter as she usually was. Maybe she'll be in the—

“If you're done staring at the computer maybe you could deign to move so it can really serve its purpose of being a public property?” Cass froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. This was the voice taunting him at all times. “And if you have coffee in your hands, I'd suggest you turn slowly.”

He smirked. So she knew who she was talking to.

“Well, looks like the damage would be lesser this time since your clothes aren't white,” he observed.

“I figured black would hide stains caused by ogling, clumsy people better than white,” she said. “Now, if you could move, I want to register for the Membership Fest.”

“Register? What do you mean by ‘I want to register for the Membership Fest’?”

“A register, you know,” she teased, “Something like a form where you fill your details if you want to join something?” She smirked at his glare.

“Well,” he said, “if there is a register let me fill it first.”

“Because your ego is bigger?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he dead-panned. “I came here first.”

“Here as in the counter or the library? Because I’m pretty sure I stepped into this library first.”

Cassian quickly checked the database where the information of all members appeared. He turned back to her with a self-satisfied smirk. “The database shows otherwise, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I don’t believe you. You might’ve tampered with the information.”

He moved slightly to the side to give her a better view. Her scowled deepened.

She rounded on him. “You,” seethed. “You did—”

“Hello,” a new, shy voice said.

“Hey, Gwyn,” they both said in symphony.

A look of surprise crossed over her features before it faded away. When the woman turned to Gwyn, she wore a huge smile. “Oh, look, she smiles,” he muttered, earning him a glare.

“Is the fest still on?” Cassian asked.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of the joyful librarians here, said, “Unfortunately, not. We just got our 20th member.”

Cassian’s face fell. He noticed the same of the woman too. Gwyn, always the optimistic one, said cheerfully, “Maybe we could reserve one for the both of you next year?”

They both murmured their assent before Gwyn offered her farewell and went back to the staffroom.

The woman turned back to him. “This is all your fault,” she hissed and stalked out of the library, leaving Cassian more confused than ever.

* * *

Nesta went to the library to find solace or at least a semblance of it. Seeing the man there, however, left Nesta more rattled than she would care to admit. Rattled, and angry. Angry at the universe for giving them these unfortunate encounters. Angry at him for following her wherever she went. Angry at herself for feeling such futile emotions. Angry at her body for reacting to him.

She was also upset that she didn’t get a free premium member cr

Nesta was so occupied with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t realise she was taking the wrong route. She wasn’t familiar with this part of Velaris. She also didn’t realise she was being followed. It was distinct, the sound of hushed breathing, of the soft thuds of footfalls. The footsteps sounded heavier which most probably meant it was a man. She couldn’t really be sure, though. This was a person who was not experienced in stalking but was trying hard enough.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t panic but couldn’t help the bout of fear that crashed through her. Nesta tried to stay calm. She tried to make sure she didn't quicken her pace. She tried, cauldron, she really did. But her fear was slowly overpowering her senses. She felt the urge to run away from her stalker.

But that wouldn’t be wise. Running away from her stalker isn’t a good choice. It wasn’t smart. Who’s to know he wasn’t armed? What if he was faster than her? What if her stalker was faster than her? He might be stronger too. He could over power her and cage her in. She didn’t even know what his motive was.

Then, Nesta made a ridiculously huge, dumb mistake. She turned to an abandoned alley. At least it looked abandoned. She let out a frustrated breath. Running away was at least better than getting stuck in an alley. So much for ‘that wouldn't be wise’. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was or if there were any means of escape, however meager it might be.

Suddenly, she was slammed to the alley wall. The rough cold stone was unforgiving and unyielding under her cheek. Her windpipe was closed off and she was struggling to get some air in. She fought to get free but her captor —a man, as she guessed— was too strong. Somehow, his hands felt familiar to her. As if she were long acquainted with this person’s touch.

“What do you want?” she gasped out.

He chuckled, the sound grating through her very bones.

“My little Nesta,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting the shell of her ear. “Ever the stubborn one.”

That voice. It was one that she couldn’t forget as hard as she tried. Tomas Mandray, her ex-boyfriend, was someone not easily forgotten.

“Tomas,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to be nice. Not now, not after how he treated her. “What the fuck do you want? Let me go.”

“I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I can say the same of you.”

“Mhm. You broke up with me and then you called the police. Got me stuck behind bars for two fucking months.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

He slammed her head against the wall. Hard. Blinding pain shot through her. He yanked her hair so hard she was afraid chunks of it came out. Her head only throbbed harder.

“Manners were never your cup of tea,” he hissed.

“You were not that kind either. You were an empowering, possessive bastard and I don’t regret watching you grovel to the police for freedom for one fucking moment and I won’t ever.”

He growled and slammed her head against the wall again. She cried out and was pretty sure she heard something crack. She felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips, streaming from her nose freely.

“Oh, you will. You’ll regret everything. Every. Single. Thing. For your whole god-damned life. I’ll make sure of it, bitch,” he promised.

He tightened his grip on her hair that sent another wave of agony through her. She caught the glint of something in the fading sunlight. A knife. Of course he had a knife.

He had a knife while she was a mess, kneeling on an alley, completely at the mercy of one of the people who hated her the most. Pathetic. So, so, pathetic. She hated herself for whimpering. She hated herself for being this weak. She hated that she had gotten panicked enough that she turned to an alley, where no one would know.

Here, in this unknown alley, with the person she hated the most, Nesta Archeron was going to die. She was going to die a death as unknown as the place she was in. Maybe even without her sisters knowing. Shit. Her sisters. If only she showed all her love to sweet Elain and brave Feyre, if only she even went to meet her brother-in-laws, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, maybe things would’ve been different. She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion in her throat. I’m sorry Elain, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, I’m so, so sorry, was the last thing in her head before she felt acute pain and succumbed to the dragging talons of oblivion.

taglist:

@im-someone-i-guess @shadowsinger07 @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 5/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 5: A Dangerous Game

Emma spent the next few days locked away in her chambers, only leaving the room for supper. Anytime she came in contact with Killian, she would bow, keeping her eyes away from his, and retreating back to the safety of solace as soon as she was able.

It wasn’t that Emma had never kissed a man before, though she had never seen one naked, that much was certain. Seeing him strip down in front of her, exposing himself to her without remorse, had caused sensations she had never experienced before. She knew she never should have followed him into the water that night. She was never one to back down from a challenge and once he had pressed forward, she had no choice but to follow suit.

She knew that was ridiculous, she always had a choice. Yet with Killian, she wanted to rise to meet him where he was. He pushed her in a way that no other man had done before. She wanted to prove herself to him, to prove that she was more than just a Princess being offered to a man as a trophy to collect. Emma was capable of so much more; she was born to lead.

No one ever saw her that way, not her parents, she was sure that Liam saw her as a woman fulfilling her role, but Killian, he didn’t seem to back away from her strengths. He wasn’t afraid of her desires, her need to be more than she was thought to be. He understood her.

It was that understanding that should have sent her back to the castle instead of into the lake with him, baring her soul, her body, giving into the desire she couldn’t seem to contain for the man. She couldn’t wait to return home to be as far away as she could be from Killian Jones.

There was a knock on her door, and she jumped from the bed as Ruby entered the room. “Liam has returned. You will be expected at supper.” Emma groaned. “What has happened? You haven’t stepped out of this room for days. You won’t tell me why, or what is going on.”

“I’m fine, I just want to go home. I miss my parents.” She said, only half telling the truth as she spoke. That was better than fully lying to the girl, right?

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the reason that Prince Killian has been moping around the castle? Did something happen between the two of you?”

“What are you insinuating?” She asked with her mouth wide open.

“Just that the two of you seem to be not getting along. I know he has been most disagreeable toward you recently. Perhaps he has not enjoyed needing to watch over his brother’s betrothed.”

Emma frowned, oh he was enjoying it quite well, if she were being honest, but since she was not, she instead shrugged. “How am I to know what is wrong with that insolent child, I’m not his keeper. Let us ready for dinner, I do not care to discuss such unpleasantries.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Ruby conceded and set about braiding Emma’s hair and helping to stuff her into her gown for the evening. When she approached the dining hall that evening, she paused, gathering herself before she entered the room, a smile plastered onto her face.

“Good evening, Emma. I apologize for being absent as long as I was.” Emma bowed her head to Liam and smiled.

“What news of Locksley?”

“Much of the town was destroyed. We brought many people back with us to take shelter until repairs can be made. I am afraid I am only home to replenish supplies before I must return to assist with rebuilding the town.”

“Do you need assistance, I may not look strong, but I can pound a hammer better than any man.” She laughed.

“I would not see you put in any danger. Father plans to send you home in the morning, Killian will see to it that you and your maid arrive home safely. I shall come to Misthaven as soon as the village is safe again.”

Emma frowned, wishing he would allow her to help, the people of Locksley had been friends of her father’s. They were good people. But of course, she was only seen as a trophy that needed to be protected. She tried not to take offense, Liam was simply thinking of her safety, but she wished she could be seen as useful in ways that did not require her to be put on display or locked in a tower.

Across the room, Killian seemed to pace the wall, watching the two of them as they talked near the table. Emma could feel his eyes glaring into her. She purposely cast her eyes on his brother, not allowing his steely gaze to distract her from the man speaking to her.

“I do hope my brother was a good host in my absence. Mother says his mood has been quite gloomy.”

She laughed loudly, ensuring that the entire room could hear her, knowing that it brought a frown to the skulking Prince keeping eye on their conversation. She reached out and touched Liam’s arm, “Well your brother is a bit of a child, isn’t he? He’s probably still angry that I was able to tame his wild mare.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You rode Jolly?”

“Of course, I did. She was most agreeable, a fine horse indeed.”

He shook his head in amazement. “Incredible. No one has ever ridden her save for Killian himself. That does indeed solve the mystery of his malady. He can be insufferable when he is angry.” He said with a whisper and a laugh.

Emma laughed loudly again, keeping her hand firmly on his forearm, her fingers caressing his skin as she trained her eyes on his. “Indeed.” She agreed and turned toward his brother, watching as he stormed across the room toward the large banquet table.

Liam leaned his face toward her ear. “Do not worry, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Emma flushed, visions of her escapade in the water, feeling his mouth against her neck, his teeth grazing her earlobe. She suddenly felt faint and reached out to steady herself against Liam’s sturdy arm. “I’m sure it is.” She replied in a raspy voice.

“Let us find our seats, I am sure it is almost time for supper.” He said with a smile, ushering her toward the large seat near the table.

~*~

Killian felt the anger rising in his throat the longer he watched Emma parading around the room on his brother’s arm. He didn’t know why he was behaving so irrationally; this woman was marrying his brother. She was never his and one night, one error in judgement on her part would never change that. Liam would be King, Emma would be his Queen, and together they would save Misthaven and Jonesboro. Liam would be the savior once again, and Killian would be the pitiful idiot who sat pining for his brother’s wife.

Emma laughed again from across the room and Killian found himself stomping toward the buffet of fruits on the other side of the room. He could not stand there and watch this charade in front of him.

“Does your town always supply this much fruit for a single evening?” Killian turned to his right as Emma’s handmaiden appeared beside him. Ruby was her name if he remembered correctly.

“We have been blessed with an abundance of a bountiful garden.” He laughed. “Father loves to show that off whenever he is able.” He added with a sarcastic groan.

The woman laughed. “I never had a chance to thank you for valiantly fighting on the road here. I am most certain you saved our dear Emma’s life.”

Killian glanced over as Emma and her brother continued talking at the table. “She seemed capable of handling her own. All I did was deliver her to the carriage.”

“Emma is an accomplished fighter, though she has not been allowed to use her skills in public. It’s not proper for a lady of her stature to be seen sparring with men.”

He narrowed his eyes, “But she does…spar?”

“Oh yes, she’s been known to meet the knights in the garden at night to practice her skills. Emma has never wanted to be left needing to rely on others to protect her. It’s important to her that she can protect her people and herself.”

“I’m sure her father just loves that.”

Ruby snorted loudly once the words left his mouth and Killian took advantage of the attention it brought with the crowd turning in their direction. His hand found its way to her back, guiding her toward the table as he glanced in Emma’s direction, her cheeks reddening, her eyes locked on the scene in front of her. Killian’s smirk grew on one side of his face. Perhaps his conversation could be both pleasing and advantageous for him.

“King David loves his daughter, don’t misunderstand me, but I do wish that he would consider her as the worthy and rightful heir to the throne.”

“You think she should be Queen? Doesn’t she have a brother?”

“Yes, Henry is still young, he could no more take over the kingdom than he could find hair to shave on his face.”

“A woman at the head of the throne, it’s unheard of.”

“It’s only unheard of because men refuse to see women as more than objects to be seen yet silent. I can assure you that Emma would be a most noble and courageous Queen to Misthaven.” She paused, horror filling her eyes. “But I fear I have spoken my mind too loudly tonight, courage brought on by too much ale, I fear. Please do not misunderstand my words as anything more than wishful thinking for my dear Princess. We are most grateful to Jonesboro and Prince Liam for the chance to save both of our kingdoms.”

“Do not fear, Lady Lucas,” he said in a whisper against her ear, “I think you will learn that I find many qualities of women worthy of more than just the place that society has put them.”

She giggled and he caught the glare of angry green eyes darting in his direction. Before he could dwell on his victory he felt a sucker punch to the face when Emma leaned over and pressed a kiss to Liam’s cheek, her hand resting on his chest.

The rest of dinner he brooded as Ruby talked softly beside him, he hummed an answer in the negative or the affirmative but did not spend much time listening to what he was responding to. Instead, he was consumed with anger at the game Emma was playing with him. She had no interest in his brother, he was sure of that. She was playing the part because it was what was required of her.

Even before Ruby had told him, he knew that Emma felt she was the rightful heir to her home. He knew that Emma was capable of being more than a trophy for his brother to parade around Jonesboro. There were other ways to win the fight against Regina and her army that did not involve compromising who Emma was. Yet here she was playing the bride to be with a man she had no interest in marrying.

It was preposterous to think, but he knew that there was more to his anger than Emma not standing up for what she wanted for herself. His anger was because she rejected him. It was irrational to think that she could do anything but reject him but having her walk away from him when it was just the two of them, leaving him there in the forest, tortured him nightly.

He could no longer close his eyes at night without seeing her naked body pressed against his in the moonlight. Thrice since that evening he had taken himself in hand, guiding himself to release while he remembered the feel of her breast in his hand, her legs wrapped around his waist, her throbbing center pressing against his stomach. He could do nothing to keep himself from that need, the desire to hold her, an insatiable need to have her.

He had tried at first to distract himself with a maiden from town, but one kiss from the bar wench sent him reeling with anger back to the solitude of his own bed and hand.

But now, lying in his bed, the anger of seeing her with his brother fully tearing him apart from the inside had him unable to sleep and unable to finish the task of satisfying himself. Frustrated with this turn of events he got up from his bed, pacing the room as he mumbled to himself.

He didn’t realize his intent until he had dressed in clothing and headed down the halls toward her room. He knew he shouldn’t be seen near her room; it would be a scandal if anyone were to find them together, alone in a room this late at night, but he needed to see her. He didn’t even know what he intended to ask of her, but he needed to hear the answer anyway, needed to hear it from her own mouth if she was as haunted as he by their night at the lake.

He knew it was not wise, he should go back to his room, but instead he found himself nearing her bed chamber, his back pressed against the wall as the guards made their rounds. He approached her door, pausing for a moment, one last chance to back out, to stop this ridiculous pursuit and retreat to his own room.

~*~

“Are you sure you are alright? You appear unsettled, quite unlike yourself.”

Emma shrugged as she felt Ruby unlace her corset, exhaling once she was able to breathe again. “I’m tired. At least we will be returning home tomorrow.” She sighed.

“Killian will be traveling with us; he was telling me tonight that he plans to join his brother once he has returned us home safely.”

Emma frowned, unsure how she was supposed to spend the trip sitting across from the man who was haunting her dreams. She was pleased with herself when Killian stormed out of the dining hall that evening, seemingly tired of the game he was playing with her by flirting with Ruby. However, knowing that her attention toward his brother had caused him such jealousy also caused something else to stir deep inside of her: desire.

Had he really wanted her so badly that he was brooding over the attention that she was providing to the man she was to marry. He knew that she had no choice but to marry Liam, she had no time for childish needs and wants. She had a duty to her family, her kingdom, her home.

“Emma?” Emma’s snapped her attention back to Ruby. “Did you hear me? I asked if you were alright if I went down to the doctor to gather supplies for our trip home. I want to ensure we have enough ointment for your wound since it is still healing.”

“Um yeah sure, that’s fine, I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Alright, I’m certain you will feel better in the morning.” She smiled and hugged the girl.

“Thanks Ruby, goodnight.”

The girl gathered her clothes scattered through the room and placed them at the trunk near the armoire. They would pack in the morning and return to her home. Ruby closed the door behind her, and Emma sank into her bed, pulling the heavy blankets up her body and tucking them under her chin. She wanted to disappear into the expanse of the bed, forget everything that had happened here and everything that was yet to come.

The creak across the room alerted her that she was not alone in the room. “Ruby? Did you come back already?” She called out into the silence and a shadow emerged from across the room causing her to sit up quickly. “Who’s there?”

The shadow got closer until it came into the light, the cause of all her strife tonight stood in the moonlight, staring at her.

“What are you doing in my room?” She exclaimed, jumping out of her bed, and rushing toward him. “Do you know what would happen if anyone found you in here, with me, like this!” She said anxiously, looking down at her nightgown.

“That night dress is quite scandalous, however I’ve seen you in less, love.”

Anger took over her emotions. “Stop that.” She said at an angry whisper. “Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you, to talk to you, about the other night.”

“I said everything I needed to say. That was a one-time thing. It can never happen again. I’m marrying your brother.”

��Why are you marrying him?” He asked and Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“You know why, it is our duty to protect our kingdom’s. Our union will bring our people together to…”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” He exclaimed, stepping toward her. “You do not wish to marry my brother. You have no other duty but to yourself.”

She laughed. “It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Her heart stilled as he reached for her. “I’m haunted by the memories of your kiss; you plague my every thought and dream.” He took another step toward her, his hand brushing against her shoulder.

“You need to find a way to forget, I’m marrying your brother.”

“But you do not want my brother, do you? For all your theatrics this evening, it is not he who causes your heart to stir, your legs to quiver…” His hand was in her hair and Emma needed him to leave. She could scarcely hear his voice from the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. “Or the desire that pools between them.” She gulped.

“We can’t do this; we must put our people first.” A mischievous smile grew on his lips. “Our Kingdom demands that we do what is necessary to survive.” He bent his head to her neck, sucking at the skin below her ear and she held back the moan that threatened to escape her lips. “You’re being selfish, putting your needs above others.” She groaned and he lifted his head to meet her eyes.

“I’d much rather put your needs first, love.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She admonished him as he stared at her as if she were his last meal.

“I want you.”

She laughed. “You only want me because you’ve had every other woman in your kingdom. I’m a conquest to you, nothing more.”

His mouth pressed against her jaw and Emma could feel the warmth between her legs, the moisture pooling in her center as he continued his way down her jaw. She had never been with a man before, never knew that it could bring about such pleasure in the way that he was giving simply from kissing her.

“This is something more than a conquest, I feel it, I know you do too.”

Her heart was pounding out of her chest. “We can’t…” She protested once more as his mouth met hers and she could resist him no longer. She fell into his arms, allowing him to lift her off her feet, carrying her to the bed as he lay her on top of the pool of blankets, his mouth never leaving hers, his fingers tangled in her hair.

She tilted her hips upward, needing to feel something, anything, some type of friction between them. He groaned against her mouth, the sound of which set her body on fire, her lips bruising his as she fought to stop the burning between her legs. She needed whatever he could give her, wanted it so badly that she could see nothing else but him, the feel of his mouth, the touch of his hand, the cold steel of the hook on his arm that was pressing against her back. “Killian.” She moaned, frustration from needing something she couldn’t describe.

She felt a hardness against her center, happy for the friction it provided to her dripping center, as she rubbed her hips against him, eliciting more sounds from his throat that sent shivers down her spine. His hand was under her chemise, his fingers dancing across her breast, his thumb brushing against her hardening nipple. “Oh…” She sighed before she was alerted to the sound of the door, the heavy wood creaking against the floor.

Killian rolled to his side, sliding onto the floor beside the bed before Ruby was able to fully enter the room. “Back so soon.” Emma said, sitting up and yawning. “I barely made it to the bed.”

“Yes, I gathered everything we need for the trip. Get some sleep.”

“Can you get me water?” She asked suddenly. “I’m parched.”

“Um, sure, one second.” She retreated from the room and Emma tilted over the side of the bed, looking underneath to see Killian lying there.

“Go before she returns.” Emma jumped out of the bed, rushing toward the door.

He was on his feet, rushing ahead of her before he turned back to face her, dragging her into his arms and placing his lips against hers. “There is not a moment that I won’t think of you tonight.”

She smiled against his lips, “Good.” She stated before pushing him out the door and slamming it shut behind him. Ruby returned from the small room to her right and stared at Emma.

“Are you quite alright? Why are you out of bed?”

“I needed to stretch.” She said with a yawn, returning quickly to bed and pulling the covers over her head.

“Don’t you want your water?”

She pulled the blanket down, reaching for the glass. “Of course.” She drank the entire contents that were held in the glass and then fell back against the bed, closing her eyes and pulling the covers back over her. “Good night Ruby.”

“Good Night, My Lady.” She said with apprehension.

Emma’s heart was pounding, her mind was racing, her body was still on fire in all the places he had touched her. He wanted her. Killian Jones wanted her. She knew it was wrong, she should not entertain these thoughts, such wanton desire for a man she could not be with was irresponsible. In the end, she would have to marry his brother.

But as she closed her eyes, soft blue eyes swirling around her, his touch haunting her dreams, he was all she wanted, all she desired. And something told her that he would stop at nothing to have her. A thought which both excited and terrified her to no end. Emma Nolan had a duty to her people, a responsibility to unite two kingdoms to keep them from the brink of war.

But more than anything, she could not ignore the feelings that were threatening to grow for Killian Jones.

She knew if she continued to play this reckless game it would lead her to two paths. And she would eventually have to choose.

She could only have one.

Love or Duty.

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[pls-let-me-out]

Pride and Prejudice

PART TWO

Summer came slowly. The days turned longer, the temperature warmer, and one day fruits hang where flowers had been.

Although the family participated to many social events, Piper never seemed to enjoy the dances quite as much as she the ones shared with Mr. Grace. Mr. Grace, the one whose name was never spoken in the house, more for Mrs. Solace’s destroyed nerves than Piper’s wellbeing. And when someone asked Piper how she was coping, Piper would smile, and say, “It’s becomes easier each day that passes.” Will didn’t believe her.

If there had once been a sense of expectation when they adventured to town, as there was a possibility of meeting Mr. Grace, seeing his and Piper’s story unfolding before their eyes, as Summer came they learnt to leave in boredom again.

And how dared Mr. Grace just walk out of Piper’s life without as much as a goodbye? The more the days passed, the more Will seethed, until bitter disappointment replaced the anger.

But Spring came to an end, and everyone knows that the big things in life always happen during the Summer.

 In the first days of June, Mrs. Solace’s cousin invited Piper to London, and she didn’t think too long before accepting.

“After all,” she reasoned with Will, “it can’t hurt, can it? Every day I’m here, I am forced to see his ghost. I wander through the fields, and if someone calls my name, even if it isn’t his voice, I expect to see him when I turn.”

Mr. Caesar sent them a letter, and Mrs. Solace loudly announced that he was asking whether Mr. Solace was dead yet, although no one read it until dinner.

In the letter, Mr. Caesar apologized for felling the need to leave so harshly after Will’s outmost rejection. Despite that, he didn’t have any hard feelings for his cousins, and to show it he invited Will to visit him and his newly married wife, Mrs. Leila Caesar, a Beta.

“She must be very beautiful if he wants to rub her in front of Will,” Mitchell said.

“And she will have our house!” Mrs. Solace exclaimed, throwing her napkin on the table, only to ask Jonathan to give it back to her a second later. “She will throw us on the streets, and now none of us will survive. We will die, all of us!”

Will didn’t mention that Drew had been sneaking off to the fields more lately, to return late and with red cheeks, so at least one would survive. He didn’t say it, but he gave her a pointed look. She glared right back.

“I’ll go with Will,” Mitchell said. “I want to see her, too. She is probably really ugly if she has agreed to marry him.”

“You won’t come with me,” Will said. “I’ll go alone.”

Mr. Solace raised both eyebrows. “You are willingly going to Mr. Caesar’s house?”

“I don’t have much better to do,” Will reasoned. “And he can’t have become worse than he was during his visit.”

Mitchell groaned, slumping in his seat. “You are always so little fun.”

“He expects you to bring one of your siblings, though,” Mr. Solace said.

Three days later another letter came. It was from another long-lost cousin of Mrs. Solace, who invited one of her children to visit her, as she was going south with her husband, and since their children were already married, she would have felt alone. For obvious reasons (he was her favorite child, and Drew had reclined the offer, as she didn’t want her studies to suffer, which was an utter lie) she chose Mitchell.

“She is rubbing it in my face,” Mrs. Solace seethed, ripping a hole in the napkin. “She is rubbing it!”

Mr. Solace patted her back, but didn’t hide the amusement from his face. After all, as he often said, he wouldn’t be around to see his children fall in disgrace.

 Mr. Caesar’s house was beautiful, immersed in a green scenery. They certainly paid a lot in gardener, as many different kinds of flowers were on either side of the street. Mr. Caesar was at the door, standing straight beside a beautiful woman. Will blinked several time, but despite Mitchell’s prediction, it didn’t change.

Will was given a tour of the house, before Mr. Caesar had to leave, and Will was left alone with Mrs. Caesar. It would have been his life, if he had been any more afraid of saying no to the Alpha. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret his choice, not even as a they drank tea from shining, expensive cups, in Mrs. Caesar’s private parlor.

Left alone, Will and Mrs. Caesar quickly dropped the formalities. It didn’t take long for them to bond, as Will had the ability of putting people at ease.

“It isn’t easy,” she later admitted. “Being married to him. Being married in general, I think.” She leaned closer, a grimace curling her delicate lips. “And his patron is a nightmare at times.”

“Lady Demeter?” Will asked.

She nodded, widening her eyes. “She wants to know everything we do. We have been married for two weeks, and every time I see her, she asks whether I am pregnant already.”

A matching grimace fell on Will’s face. “Lord. I met her grandson, he was a real nightmare, too.”

“Mr. di Angelo? I only met him once, and he was very closed off. Although I have to say, I have heard many good things about him, especially from the servants.”

Will’s nose scrunched up. “I wouldn’t know, the first time we met, he called me not pretty enough to tempt him into dancing.”

Leila’s jaw went slack. “Oh, Goodness! What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I stumbled upon that conversation for a chance.” Will waved his hand in dismissal, as for him it had quickly become a matter to laugh about. “I was at the right place at the right time. I’m ashamed to admit that I later rubbed it in his face.”

Leila laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand, and Will couldn’t help but join her, despite having a blush on his face.

 Luckily, Mr. Caesar wasn’t home the second day of Will’s stay either. Leila brought him to the beautiful fields near the river, and Will enjoyed every second of it. The first day, his hair was slicked back, as Mrs. Solace had forced him in a chair and done it, but after a bath he didn’t bother repeating the process himself.

“Do you come from around here?” Will asked Leila, as they strolled around a path. “I didn’t ask yesterday.”

“Yes, I lived here my whole life,” she said. She looked up at the sky, as though it held the answers to her every question. “I always thought I would travel a bit more before getting married.”

“You can come to Longbourn anytime you want,” Will said. “I must already tell you, my father’s wife will be absolutely insufferable.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Your father’s wife?”

“My step-mother,” Will explained. “My mother died when I was thirteen. My father is his current wife’s third husband.”

“She had been married two times and he still married her?”

Will shrugged, turning his eyes up to the sky, too. It was a dark grey, not the best of premonition with which walking, but Leila was sure that it wouldn’t rain. “They had been friends for years, they knew they wouldn’t fall in love. She had four children, my father three, and they had another together. They needed an Alpha – or Beta – heir.”

“It doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“Oh, it isn’t. My father was in love with my mother, and Aphrodite – his wife – was with her previous husbands. Maybe she accepted to marry my father because she was tired of falling in love.”

“It’s terrible to think, isn’t it?”

Will shrugged. A part of him couldn’t help but think whether it wouldn’t be good for her, to find another man to fall in love with for real after having married Mr. Caesar. He couldn’t follow that line of thought for much longer, as a shout of Leila’s name came from afar, and Will’s own decency stopped her.

They both turned – Leila a bit startled – to see a dark-skinned girl walking in a fast pace towards them; long, curly hair bouncing on her back. When she got closer, Will realized that she looked like someone he knew, but he couldn’t get a name. Underneath her sweet scent lingered another, manlier and Alpha-like. It was slight, but it tingled Will’s nose, and even if he didn’t recognize it, it rubbed him the wrong way.

She and Leila greeted one another informally. Hazel, Leila called her.

“This is my husband’s cousin,” Leila said.

Hazel tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as a smile brightened her features even more. “So you are a Solace.”

“I am,” Will said. In front of such a beaming smile, the previous annoyance, caused by the scent, melted as snow under the sun. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Levesque,” Hazel said, bowing her head. “Miss Hazel Levesque, but just Hazel is fine.”

Will repeated her gesture. “William Solace.”

“Hazel is Lady Demeter’s granddaughter,” Leila said.

Will nodded. It took him a moment to connect the dots, thus recognizing the scent. “I think I know your cousin.”

“Brother, actually,” she said. “We have both taken our mothers’ surnames. And believe me, I already knew.”

But before she could give an explanation, the sky broke above them, with such fury one would have thought they had wronged God themselves. They shared one look, and ran for their lives.

 When they finally entered the house, they were all shivering. Will pushed his wet hair, sticking to his forehead, away. They were getting too long, Mrs. Solace had threatened to cut them for weeks.

Soon, they were all sitting in front of the fireplace, steaming cups of water in their hands, and blankets on their back. Will even wished he had brought his furs from home.

“So, you know all of my cousins, William?” Hazel asked him.

Will smiled. “I met them, yes.” Was that enough to say, in regards of the time they had spent together? The balls, the times they had run into each other in town. It surely wasn’t half enough to explain Piper’s heartbreak. “Mr. Grace once told me you were supposed to go with them.”

Hazel giggled. She really was a lovely Omega. “Oh, yes. But my brother plotted against me.”

“Plotted?” Will repeated.

Hazel waved a hand in dismissal. “Sometimes he forgets that I am grown, and I don’t need anyone to take decisions for me. Still, I can’t help but understand him, you know?” She stirred her tea, taking a long sip before continuing. “When our father died, I was only sixteen, and I took a couple of wrong decisions, which I often try to forget about. He took care of me. I don’t think he will ever see me as an adult, even when I mate and have children.”

Will nodded, sadness bitter on his tongue. “Oldest brothers are annoying like that.”

“Do you have any?” Leila asked.

“I did,” he said softly. “They were both Alphas.”

 Little kids always have a special kind of adoration for their oldest siblings, so pure it really must have been sent by God. Will had always thought so. He saw it anytime he locked eyes with Jonathan. Sometimes, Kayla still looked at Will like he had hung the moon in the sky. Austin did so far less. Lacy sometimes let her guard down, and she was the second to younger among them, her happiness was always refreshing. Mitchell had only ever looked at them as though they were ants, but Will was pretty sure they weren’t completely hated. He, Drew and Piper shared a different kind of bond, more mature than the others’. He surely adored Piper, and Drew did, too, even if she forgot it at times.

 Hazel left when the rain finally stopped pouring from the sky, saying her grandmother had to be searching for her. Mr. Caesar returned home from the city not long later, and asked whether they had been home all day. Leila giggled, and told him the whole story (or what she could, as Mr. Caesar wasn’t much interested in stories that didn’t involve him or the Lord).

“We will visit Lady Demeter tomorrow,” Mr. Caesar said. His eyes bore holes in Will’s. “She was kind enough to extend her invitation to you as well.”

“I’m not sure I have clothes beautiful enough to meet her,” Will said.

Mr. Caesar visibly shivered. “It isn’t a problem, Mr. Solace. Lady Demeter prefers humble people.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t need to meet her, to know she wouldn’t be humble at all, more similar to her arrogant grandson than her joyous granddaughter.

 Once again, Will was right. Lady Demeter was an aging dark-skinned woman, whose hair had turned white, but she kept her back straight. A lily was placed at the start of her braid, it was the same color as her clothes.

She looked at Will, raising an eyebrow, and he couldn’t see anyone but her grandson in him, even if they didn’t share any physical trait.

“William Solace, is it?” She asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“It is,” Mr. Caesar intervened.

Lady Demeter nodded once, before turning her attention to Leila. As they waited for dinner, they stayed in the parlor, Hazel sitting next to her grandmother, and a woman unknown to Will on the armchair opposite to her. She leaned towards Will when he sat. Her scent was strong, heavy even if feminine. An Alpha.

“Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano,” she presented herself, the name falling easily off her tongue. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “From Hazel?”

“Oh, no. I know Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace quite personally,” she said, waving her hands. Two rings, one silver and one gold, simple bands on each middle finger, and they caught the light of the candles.

The doors opened, a familiar scent reached Will’s nostrils even before he turned. Even if the previous day Will asked Hazel whether her brother had come with her, and she said he hadn’t. She looked absolutely ecstatic to see him, jumping from her seat to hug him. Mr. di Angelo chuckled in her hair. Will found himself stunned by the sight.

“Please, don’t bother greeting me, Nicolò,” Lady Demeter said, the wrinkles on her forehead deepened.

Mr. di Angelo let go of his sister, and his eyes widened when they landed on Will. Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze never left Mr. di Angelo, and she looked as though she were having lots of fun.

Lady Demeter cleared her throat, and Mr. di Angelo’s attention shifted back to her.

“As you wish, grandmother,” he simply said. He looked back at the door, clasping his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow. “Is dinner quite ready?”

“Have some manners, boy,” Lady Demeter replied sternly. “Take a seat.”

Mr. di Angelo did as he was told, but not without winking at his sister first. Winking, and she giggled. He told Hazel that he had come to escort her back the next day, so that she wouldn’t be alone during the ride. If possible, her smile widened even more.

“She is always like that,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told Will quietly, leaning closer to him. “He can do no wrong in her eyes.”

Will turned to her, but he didn’t have time to ask the question on his tongue, as a servant announced that dinner was ready to be served. Lady Demeter demonstrated how much of a humble and kind woman she was, when she threw a fit for the way they were about to sit, asking Mr. Caesar to move in Will’s place so that he would be next to his wife, leaving Will between Mr. di Angelo and Miss Ramírez-Arellano.

“I understand that you have many siblings, Mr. Solace,” Lady Demeter told Will.

“I do,” Will confirmed. “One older than me, and six younger.”

“And they are all in society already?”

“No, the youngest is only seven.”

“So many children in society, yet the first one isn’t even married.” Lady Demeter shook her head. “What a peculiar choice.”

She pronounced the words like they were venom to be spat, and it brought a smile to Will’s lips.

“It would have been cruel to keep the other children home as the oldest went out, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t have encouraged siblinghood, I think.”

“Your mother must be a very strong woman to have birthed so many children,” Lady Demeter continued.

“My mother was particularly frail of health,” Will said. “She never bore any children. We were all adopted.”

“How peculiar,” Lady Demeter repeated. “All of you?”

Will thought of his oldest siblings, Piper’s older sister. He thanked God for having masked his scent, or it would have turned sour, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen in front of such an arrogant woman.

“I thought Lady Persephone would be here,” Mr. di Angelo said.

His way of cutting the conversation short lacked in smoothness, but for once Will was glad of his presence, even if Mr. di Angelo had to already know much of the Solaces, to be completely disinterested in the answer.

Lady Persephone, as Will understood from the following conversation, was Mr. di Angelo’s late father’s third wife. Miss Ramírez-Arellano was a close friend of both siblings, and she spent most of the dinner talking to them. She also knew Mr. Grace.

“He has been in London for the past few weeks,” she said about him. “His sister as well.”

Will only smiled, hoping Mr. Grace wouldn’t run into his sister, giving her the time she needed to grieve and move on.

After dinner, they moved to the parlor. Lady Demeter sat on a high chair, which resembled a throne engraved with flowers. Will sat between Mr. Caesar and Miss Ramírez-Arellano on the soft sofa.

“Plenty of these paints are made by Hazel,” Lady Demeter said, gesturing to the walls. “Do you paint, William?”

Will, ever so cordial, smiled. “Not really, no. Although I can see that Hazel is very good.”

“Strange.” Her eyebrow rose again, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s, as though it had been called. The idea alone so ridiculously funny that Will bit his lip to avoid giggling. “Did you not have a housekeeper to teach you?”

“We did,” Will said.

“And she didn’t?”

“She tried. Unluckily, I was a terrible child, and preferred painting the walls instead of canvas. Eventually, she surrounded.”

Mr. di Angelo coughed, his face as red as Hazel’s. He tried hiding his blossoming grin behind his hand, as Hazel raised her fan.

“Do you have anything to add, Nicolò?” Lady Demeter questioned, her voice stern.

Mr. di Angelo shook his head, without uttering a single word, nor raising his eyes from the floor, as his shoulders trembled.

Lady Demeter’s lips curled. “Can you show some contain, boy?”

However, Mr. di Angelo could not. He almost fell forward, and Hazel grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him up. He turned to red he would have passed for a tomato.

“They are always like this when they are together, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told him quietly. Fondness sparked in her eyes, becoming a fire when Mr. di Angelo loudly guffawed.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano seemed to be a decent Alpha, and once more, Will couldn’t muster how a good person could be friends with Mr. di Angelo. He hadn’t forgotten Mr. Lawrence’s story, yet.

“Do you play the piano, William?” Lady Demeter continued.

“Only a little,” Will replied.

“Play it for us,” she ordered.

From her demanding tone alone, Will knew he wouldn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, sweet smile already in place, but Mr. Caesar accepted for him. Once more, locking eyes with Leila, who seemed unperturbed, he knew he could have never lived that type of life.

So Will sat at the piano, stretching his fingers. When he was only a child trying to keep up with his older Alpha brothers, he had broken the index of his left hand. It had never completely healed, but it felt like a lifetime ago. If it weren’t for the crook in his index, Will would have been sure, it was only a dream.

Concentrating as best as he could on playing, even if he missed a few notes here and there, he tuned out the conversation. At some point, Mr. di Angelo stopped next to him, calix in hand, eyebrow raised.

“Are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, looking up.

Mr. di Angelo swallowed, and Will’s had no choice but to follow the movement of his throat. “I know by now that you are not so easily intimidated, Mr. Solace.”

Will smiled down at his hands. He wanted to find a sense to what Mr. di Angelo had said, but there was a part of him that couldn’t help but be already satisfied. He didn’t understand why.

“Tell us, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano said loudly, without standing from her position, but claiming everyone’s attention. “How was our di Angelo in Meryton?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many niceties to say, Miss Ramírez-Arellano.” Will locked eyes with Mr. di Angelo, who was as stiff as a statue. “The first time we met was at a ball, and he refused to dance, although many people were only waiting for an invite.”

Mr. di Angelo’s eyes remained on Will as he defended himself. “I didn’t know anyone.”

“And as everyone knows, one absolutely can’t introduce himself at balls,” Will said. He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on his lips. If he had been any pettier, he would have reminded Mr. di Angelo how he’d heard him calling the company ‘not pretty enough’.

“I danced at the next ball,” Mr. di Angelo said. He raised the calix to his lips. There was a ring on his middle finger, a simple black band.

“After telling me that balls and dancing made you miserable,” Will replied.

“Lord, Nico, you are a disaster,” Hazel said, and she sounded absolutely delighted.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano sighed, nodding tiredly. Lady Demeter rubbed her temples, calling a servant to pour her more wine, and Mr. di Angelo grimaced, as though he were swallowing a whole lemon.

 Leila and Mr. Caesar had some urgent matter in the village, and Will preferred staying alone in the house.

His thoughts circled around the previous night, how Mr. di Angelo had somehow charmed Miss Ramírez-Arellano, enough for her to even define him a younger brother. He could easily explain Hazel’s adoration for him, as he was her brother. Mr. Grace had demonstrated himself to not be as much of an Alpha as he had seemed, so there was no reason to take him into consideration again. Maybe, if Will waited enough, Miss Ramírez-Arellano would show herself as another Mr. Grace.

He sat by the window in Leila’s private parlor, the only place in the house which wasn’t infested with Mr. Caesar’s scent. He wrote a letter to his sister, which he would send before going back home. However, it wasn’t long before a servant came, announcing Mr. di Angelo’s presence.

Mr. di Angelo, who only bowed his head to Will, let him do the same, and sat in front of him, on the other side of the table.

“Are you here for Mr. and Mrs. Caesar, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, when the silence became unbearable. “I’m afraid I’m here alone.”

Mr. di Angelo’s scent spiked, if only for a moment, and Will shivered. “I’m not.”

“Are you here for me, then?” Will’s voice was filled with confusion, but also a hint of surprise.

Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrow arched. He sat stiffly, and once again Will wondered whether he was a statue. “Hazel will stay for one more day. She would like to invite you for dinner again.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Will lied.

Mr. di Angelo seemed to catch onto that lie. “My grandmother won’t be there.”

“Oh,” Will said. A smile slowly spread on his lips. “Accepting your sister’s invitation would be a pleasure, then. I was under the impression that you would have left today.”

Mr. di Angelo cleared his throat. “We should have. Hazel has asked me to stay one more day, although she came to visit our grandmother, and she has already left. We will leave the morning of the day after tomorrow.” There was a moment of silence, then he looked down at the table, his eyes barely grazing over Will’s letter. “Are you writing to your family, Mr. Solace?”

“I am.”

“Are they well?”

Last time they had seen, Piper wasn’t. “They are. I understand that you come from London, maybe you have seen my sister. She is there with a maternal cousin of hers.”

Mr. di Angelo raised the other eyebrow as well. “I haven’t.”

He cleared his throat again, and Will wanted to tell him to have some honey, as it seemed quite sore. But Mr. di Angelo stood, and Will didn’t have time to say it, as Mr. di Angelo bowed his head, and left as though he were running from a fire.

 Mr. di Angelo wasn’t there during dinner. Miss Ramírez-Arellano excused him, saying he had had some problems in his father’s proprieties, that needed to be resolved quickly.

“He has asked me to escort his sister back to Pemberley House,” she told Will. “She really doesn’t like traveling alone.”

 On the last day of his stay, Will attended the Mass. Mr. di Angelo was in the front row, already there when Will arrived. Miss Ramírez-Arellano took the seat beside Will, tipping her head in greeting. He smiled back, scooting over to let her sit.

“How come you are already back?” Will asked her quietly.

“Hazel has forgotten an unfinished painting, and Nico came back to get it, although she has said many times that it wasn’t an urgency.” She shook her head, a fond look back on her face. “At times, I only follow him to make sure his tongue doesn’t get him into a fight in inns.”

Will didn’t say anything, his doubts about Miss Ramírez-Arellano resurfacing in his mind. He would have fallen asleep during Mr. Caesar’s salmon, if it weren’t for the rain shaking the windows.

“Is it your first time listening to his salmons?” Miss Ramírez-Arellano whispered to him.

“It is. I can’t say I wasn’t given signs. He spent a week or so at my house last Spring.”

“During the time of Nico’s visit to Meryton?”

Will nodded. “They also met. Mr. di Angelo might have erased the memory, he didn’t seem very fond of the place nor the people.”

“He always does, but that is rarely the truth. He doesn’t let many emotions slip on his face, has been thought since he was a child that Alphas shouldn’t let them through.” As she talked, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes were as hard as steel. She talked of him as one would have of their youngest sibling. “Although you don’t like him much, he is very loyal to his friends, protective of them. I learnt that just last Spring, he saved a friend of ours from a loveless engagement. Apparently, he was completely in love with a girl, and not only was she indifferent to him, she showed particular interest in his money.”

Will’s heart completely stopped. His eyes fell on Mr. di Angelo’s straight back. He didn’t have many expectations on the man, but as his palms turned clammy, he realized he had also been nursing the feeling that, just maybe, he was a terrible man, but not the most terrible of all. How could he have been, when his sister was so lovely?

Somewhere, Will found the strength the continue the conversation, even if his cheeks burnt as though he had been slapped. “He saved his friend?”

“I don’t know the details, none of them talks much about it. Our friends, he is utterly heartbroken. He was really taken with that girl. I can’t help but think that Nico has done taken the right decision. Also, the girl’s family, they were of an inferior social standing, and it appears that the mother was very ambitious.”

“Who says that the girl wasn’t in love as well?” Will asked, his eyes snapping from Mr. di Angelo’s head to Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes. Now that his heart was beating again, the sadness had been replaced by anger.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes widened. “Do you know the girl?”

Will was about the say that he knew, and also explain why, but the old woman in front of them turned to shush them. So Will bit his lip, raising his chin. For the rest of the function, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze was a sunflower, and Will’s face the sun.

 Will almost ran out of the Church. He passed through the people, in need of a single breath of fresh air, until he got one, and it wasn’t nearly enough. He ran, and when his legs cried in despair, not able to carry him anymore, he took a moment of rest under the roof of the old town-hall. Drops were running down his face, and he didn’t know whether they were tears or rain.

A thunder shook the sky, covering the sound of steps, but the scent that he hadn’t been able to name filled Will’s nostrils, even over that of the rain.

“Are you completely insane?” Mr. di Angelo asked. “You will catch something, running under the rain like that.”

Will turned to him, biting his lip so hard it should have broken. “I don’t see you arriving with a carriage, Mr. di Angelo.”

Will had spat his name like it was a curse, as if it could be used to slap Mr. di Angelo’s stoic face, and color some emotion that wasn’t disdain, if only for once.

“I have something to confess to,” Mr. di Angelo suddenly said, his face turning into a new type of void boredom. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need to add, my own better judgment.”

If the ground had opened and swallowed him whole, Will would have been less surprised. There was disgust on Mr. di Angelo’s face, towards himself or maybe even Will. He shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

“What makes no sense?”

“Everything you have just said.”

“I love you, does that make enough sense to you now?” Mr. di Angelo shook his head, pushing the hair from his forehead. The clothes he wore were completely wet, and Will didn’t have to look down at himself to know his weren’t doing much better. “With the inferiority of your family, your rank, it will never make sense.”

“It never will because this isn’t a confession, it is an accusation!” Will exclaimed. “If my standing gives you so much pain, then my rejection should bring you joy alone! After everything you have done to my friend, my family, me, you come and claim yourself a man in love? You must be joking.”

Mr. di Angelo scoffed, crossing his arms on the chest. “Your friend? Would you be so disgusted, had I not been honest in saying I take no joy in your social standing?”

Will’s skin burned, his heart running wildly in his chest. “Mr. Lawrence. Does the name ring any bell?”

Mr. di Angelo closed his jaw so tightly a muscle jumped. He didn’t say a thing, but for less than a second, his eyes flashed red. His scent spiked, and still he didn’t say a word. Will had no doubt that, if he had opened his mouth, he would have growled.

“He told me of what you did to him,” Will continued, venom slipping through the cracks of his voice. “How you ignored your father’s testament for pettiness and jealousy over a dead man’s love. With time, I could have even forgiven you for that if you had made amends to him, but what you did to my sister and Mr. Grace was somehow even worse.”

Mr. di Angelo let his arms fall. He moved closer, leaving wet trails in his wake. “Saving my friend from a loveless marriage?”

“My sister was in love, and still is, with Mr. Grace.” Will snarled the name of the traitorous Alpha who had gone and followed his friend’s advice instead of the seeing the truth. “When your party left, and I now know it was because of you and your ill-advice, she was left completely heartbroken, feeling a derision everywhere she went, as everyone had known she was hoping that Mr. Grace would ask her to marry him.”

“I watched them closely, and thought her indifferent.”

“She is shy!” Will said, and only realized he was yelling when his throat hurt. “She barely shows her affection to me, and I’m her brother!”

Mr. di Angelo took a step back, as if those very words had slapped him, more than anything else Will had said. Another thunder flashed in the sky, followed by a loud echo.

“And talking of others not showing their feelings when you have never shown anything but disgust to me, makes you both a liar and a hypocrite,” Will finished, heavily panting. With every breath, he caught more of Mr. di Angelo’s scent. There was a chant in his blood, asking for more.

“If this is all,” Mr. di Angelo said, his lips curled downwards, not in a show of disgust, but something Will hadn’t seen on him before. “Then I won’t steal any more of your precious time.”

He turned, and disappeared so quickly Will could have convinced himself to having dreamed every word and every anger, if it weren’t for the scent lingering in the air, and the buzzing underneath his skin.

 It was late mid-summer, the day Will arrived home, and Piper’s scent of lavender hung in every corner, and her luggage still near the front-door. Jonathan’s laughter came from the parlor, and Will followed it, as if enchanted.

Will added himself to cuddling pair on the sofa, causing Jonathan to giggle and say that he wasn’t breathing. As quickly as they let him go, Jonathan ran out of the door, probably to chase the ducks in the courtyard.

Will told her of his time at Mr. Caesar’s house, although he had been home for some weeks, leaving out every bit concerning Mr. di Angelo. He didn’t want to rip any old wound open, both his and Piper’s. She later told him of her time in the city, how life was so different there, and made her miss every one of them. They moved to the stairs in front of the door, watching Jonathan run around.

“Did it work?” Will asked, afraid of the answer. When he closed his eyes, he still saw Mr. di Angelo, the water sticking his clothes to his body, the disgust in his eyes when he confessed those feelings that so deeply hunted him.

“I think so,” Piper said. “If I saw him on the streets, I might even not recognize him. Maybe in a couple of years I will laugh about it, and the way I fell so quickly, despite my best intentions.”

It constricted Will’s heart. He smiled, a tight one that he knew didn’t look natural.

“I almost forgot,” Piper said, clapping her hands, waiting for Will to look at her. “I met the postman as I was coming here, and he had a letter for you. I took it, but I was confused, as it is from Mr. di Angelo.”

Will’s heart stopped again. He turned to his sister, feeling stiff and awkward in his own skin. “Have you read it?”

“No, of course not.”

Piper took an envelope from the pocket of her long dress. Will’s fingers shook as she passed it to him, and he cradled it close to his chest.

“Do you have any idea what he wants?” She asked, her voice almost fragile, and Will wondered whether she had really forgotten about Mr. Grace, if only the ghost of his presence did this to her. “I didn’t think you two exchanged letters.”

“We don’t,” Will said. He cleared his throat, standing, but the pavement swayed under his feet. “I’ll go read it somewhere.”

Piper nodded, her eyes boring holes his back as he walked away.

 Will sat by the river, the wind caressing the grass and making it dance behind him, as he looked up, wordlessly asking for the strength of opening that letter. Eventually, it came to him. Mr. di Angelo had written it by hand, in an elegant but rushed handwriting. The envelope, which had in fact seemed quite full, contained two sheets of paper. Will shook himself out of getting lost in the details, to finally read that letter. He wasn’t surprised by how Mr. di Angelo had avoided any term of greeting.

Be not alarmed by receiving this letter, as I intend not to bother you with those feelings which have disgusted so much you in June, but only to explain myself. With that, I do not wish to persuade you into agreeing to feelings you firmly refused, nor to humble my character in any way. The only thing I wish for, is the possibility of telling you my motivations, as I can never talk properly, especially when I find myself around you. You revolted two accusations against me: the first, separating Mr. Grace and your sister; the second, which I regret far less, is throwing Mr. Lawrence’s life away. I would like to start with the first.

I will not hide behind lies. It is true, I have separated Mr. Grace and your sister, and at the time I believed my reasons to be right. I looked at them closely, as my friend is sometimes too generous and is taken advance of, and I didn’t want to witness anything of the kind in Meryton, which for him was a fresh breath. I watched closely, saw my friend falling more and more in love, for someone that shied away from his offers. For a time, I believed that she was playing a game of sorts, trying to get him to want her more. I apologize for being such an Alpha.

Jason couldn’t talk of anything if it didn’t concern her, and your step-mother never said that your sister was in love, but only that she hoped to finally marry her off, as I caught her saying numerous times. Other times again, and you were there, too, so you should remember, she talked of how Jason should have hurried in proposing, as Piper could have had any other Alpha she wanted.

After the ball at Netherfield, I asked Miss Grace whether she had noticed it. We don’t often see things eye-to-eye, but we both care about Jason. So I invented having some urgent business in London, to which Miss Grace added herself as company. Jason added himself to the party, as we knew he would, and, although we hadn’t even thought of inviting Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, they came, too. We left during the night, and I only talked to Mr. Grace when we reached London, told him about my doubts, and he said he had shared them for some time, but thought he was only imagining her coldness towards him, as he misses the sun when it is covered by a cloud, with the faith that he will see it again.

I was sure I had only protected him, and his heart broke, so we never came back to Netherfield. I recognize my fault, and I will never apologize enough to either Jason nor your sister for the heartbreak I have caused them both.

As for the other matter, that of Mr. Lawrence, I am sure he told you a story. If you are willing to read more, I would like to tell you the real story, as long as it is.

I was my parents’ second born child. My sister Bianca died before she could present, but she had a frail scent. Even as a Beta, my parents had chosen her as an heir, and my being born an Alpha wouldn’t have changed that. I wanted to be a merchant, as my maternal grandfather was, and travel Europe and the rest of the world. I was young when my mother died, and my father married Hazel’s mother. However, she died, too.

For all that time, Bryce’s father worked for mine. He died when his son was eight, and I was seven. My father raised Bryce like a son, and I saw him so much as a brother, that I thought he would have been my father’s heir, when Bianca died. She was thirteen, and I was ten. Her death was a terrible accident, that involved my cousin Percy. I blamed him, under the influence of Bryce, but we were both children, and I can’t find it in myself to hold a grudge anymore.

Bryce was afraid of many things. He didn’t want to lose his family, and neither did I. With the years, we grew closer and closer, to the point that I thought he would never leave my life, I didn’t wish for it.

My father died when I was nineteen. It was a terrible time, I won’t lie. I tried to take care of all of his possessions, affirming myself so that I would be respected enough to not be challenged, before risking battles I couldn’t have won. I managed to affirm myself in that way, but I had left my family for too long, and when I returned, things had irreparably changed. I didn’t even realize.

Not long after my father’s death, Bryce told me that he didn’t wish to be a clergyman, thus taking the living my father had prepared for him, and asked for money instead. I accepted, and the next morning he was gone. Hazel was heartbroken, as she always cares too deeply.

Not a week had passed, when Bryce returned, saying he had made the greatest of mistakes, spending to the last penny in gambling and drinking. He asked for forgiveness, and I told him he didn’t need any, as he was a brother to me. I was a fool to think it would be all he would have done.

The following morning, Lady Persephone, my father’s third wife, left for her mother’s house. She had helped me, but she needed peace and time to grieve. How one could find peace with Lady Demeter still goes beyond me. The day she left, is the day I would have needed the most guidance, to see what was happening behind me.

Bryce left to study, and eventually taking his living. Not two months later, he asked me to give him more money, and I refused, knowing he would have spent it before night came. I had grown prideful in those days, and I appear to still be. If in his story he said that I have laughed in his face, I can make no deny. He also said that he couldn’t find any happiness in his studies, and I told him that there would always be a place for him with me.

So he abandoned his studies, and returned to live with me and Hazel. Even when he returned, I didn’t feel any less alone, but still kept everyone away. I didn’t acknowledge my pain, nor did I notice Hazel’s.

She was young, only sixteen, and Bryce has always been charming. I loved him so much, I couldn’t even be jealous of that. He charmed my sister, while I was too blinded with the pain caused by my new responsibilities, the ones I had never wished for. To this day, I don’t know exactly what lies he told her, but she believed that he loved her, and she mistook the brotherly love she held for him for something else. Understand that she was in a fragile state, and he took advance of that.

They ran away. I tracked them not too far, as Bryce may be charming, but he surely isn’t the brightest. He didn’t think that I would be able to find my sister through scent alone, even when it was only barely lingering in the air. For the first time, I thanked God for being born with the nose of an Alpha. I paid Bryce, and he promised to disappear from our lives.

When I saw him from the tea-shop last Spring, I thought it was a nightmare. I didn’t know he had become a soldier. I went to talk to him the morning of the ball in Netherfield. I have to admit, I didn’t like how he was always around you and your siblings. However, I didn’t get to speak to him, as when I arrived he was drunk, and I have too much dignity to try to speak to someone who wouldn’t even recall the conversation the following day.

I believe that this is all I have to say. I wish I had been able to tell you earlier, Mr. Solace, but as I have already said, there is something about you that makes my tongue tie. If you do not believe my words, I would ask you not to ask Hazel, who still finds shame in the naivety of her young age, but to Reyna, whom I always confessed my crimes to. I realize that there is nothing more I could ever ask you for, but as you said I am an arrogant man, so, if you will, consider my sister your friend, despite the brother she has found herself with. As you once told me, one does chose their family.

I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health and well,

my best wishes,

Nicolò di Angelo.

 Drew found Will with tears running down his face, and an expression so devastated that his sadness couldn’t be mistaken. She sat by him, nosing along his scent gland, covering his sour scent with her own.

“What is it?” She asked.

But Will only shook his head. “It’s nothing.” She didn’t bulge, and it wasn’t long before Will spilled the truth. “As you know, Mr. Caesar works for Lady Demeter, Mr. di Angelo’s grandmother. I met both him and his sister there.”

“Your luck is incredible at times,” Drew said.

“I know. I learnt some things about him, and his past, but also about Mr. Grace.” Will sighed, and found Drew looking up at him. “Should I tell Piper? She says she is finally doing better, and I don’t want to rip an old wound open.”

“I don’t think you should tell her. Mr. Grace is not our problem anymore, and he broke her heart. He can stay wherever he is.” Her nose scrunched up. “The only thing she can do now, is moving forward, and leave him in the past.”

 Up until the end of the Summer, they were in peace. Piper settled back to life in the countryside, the younger siblings – besides Mitchell, who would return when August ended – went back to their lessons, and Aphrodite’s nerves gave up every other hour.

Will tried his best not to think of Mr. di Angelo, busying himself every time the thought resurfaced. However, when he closed his eyes at night, he couldn’t help but get through their every interaction, and everything he had ever been told about the man.

He thought of their only dance together. Mr. di Angelo’s heart had beaten wildly, and even then, Will had wondered whether it was for the attention. After Mr. di Angelo’s confession, he wondered whether it was for his particular attention.

In August, their aunt Artemis wrote a letter to her brother, asking whether Will was willing to visit Derbyshire with her and another friend. Not a week later, Will was leaving again.

 Artemis didn’t like traveling alone. Will wasn’t sure what her business in London was, he knew that she fought social battles, and had some contacts inside the Parliament, especially in the House of Commons. For that particular travel, Will was with her and Hippolytus, a Beta working for her. He wasn’t fond of marriage, mating and romance, as he told Will himself.

“Derbyshire is beautiful this season,” Artemis said, the third night of their tour.

They were sleeping in inns, and they had been lucky enough not to meet any Alpha nor Beta who gave them a hard time, despite some people’s stares staying uncomfortably long on Will, at times.

Hippolytus nodded. “Are we visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow? I heard it’s stunning.”

Will almost dropped his glass. “Pemberley, you mean?”

Hippolytus nodded again, tilting his head to the side. “You look like you have seen a ghost. Are you quite alright?”

“Just a bit tired,” Will said, and it wasn’t a lie. “What were you saying about tomorrow?”

Artemis chuckled. “We are visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow, or Pemberley. I wrote to the housekeeper, and she is willing to have us. Although Mr. di Angelo won’t be there.”

“Are you sure?” Will insisted, leaning forward on the table. “That he won’t be home.”

Artemis furrowed her eyebrows. “Did you want to meet him? I hear he’s grown to be quite gorgeous.”

Heat rose to Will’s face. He blurted a negative answer out, the words tumbled down his tongue, but he didn’t wish to know whether his aunt and Hippolytus had heard him. He gave them both a tight smile, bid them goodnight, and escaped before they could understand what had happened.

 Pemberley House wasn’t far from the town of Lambton. They walked there, as Artemis was as fond of walking as Will.

Pemberley House was on the opposite side of the valley, and it caught the eye, despite being in perfect harmony with the natural beauty of the place.

The housekeeper was an old woman called Beatrice, whose words were stained by an Italian accent. In fact, as she led them inside, she revealed that late Mr. di Angelo had employed her shortly before his first marriage, so that his wife would have someone to talk to in her native language.

“He loved her so much,” she said. “That although she was an Omega and he an Alpha, he took her name. Come, I’ll show you the gallery with the family portraits.”

“I met him once,” Artemis said later on, as they stopped in front of a paint of late Mr. di Angelo. “He always looked so stoic.”

Will thought the same of his son. They looked like one another, and even in the portrait, Mr. di Angelo wore dark clothes.

“He did, didn’t he?” Beatrice said, tilting her head to the side. Melancholic joy shone between the tears in her eyes. “I remember when Bianca was born, and how happy they were.”

Next was a family portrait, in which Mr. di Angelo was only a baby, laying in his crib with the rest of the family around it. Will remained in front of it for a longer time, even when the others had moved on. His aunt called him out.

“Are you having baby fever, dear?” She asked teasingly, poking him in the belly. “Should we expect any surprise?”

Will only blushed.

Bianca di Angelo and her brother shared many qualities, such as their eyes. Beatrice confirmed as much.

“It’s strange sometimes, to walk here and see all their faces, when only one is left,” she said. “I look at him, and I can see Bianca, Maria and Hades, too. It’s a heavy luggage to carry, for only one person.”

A knot tightened Will’s throat. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t find it in himself to talk.

They passed by another section, that had portraits of Mr. di Angelo’s second wife, Miss Levesque. She looked much like her daughter, which Beatrice said wasn’t as good a thing, as she had gone through a bad time after her pregnancy.

“She was happy when she was expecting,” she told them. “But afterwards, she couldn’t find such joy in anything else. She wanted other children, but her health was too frail, and Mr. di Angelo had to refuse her. It broke her heart.”

Late Mr. di Angelo’s wife was called Persephone. She was still alive, as Will knew, and spent most of her time with her mother, although she sometime came back, to make sure that the children were doing well.

In the last section were portraits of only the children.

“Bianca was beautiful,” Artemis said. “But what I liked the most about her, was her cleverness.”

“You knew her, madam?” Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Although he didn’t see himself, Will knew he wore the same expression.

“She visited London with her father, not long before she passed,” Artemis replied. “She wanted to work with the Hunters of Diana, when she was older.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”

Will stopped in front of a painting of Mr. di Angelo, made not too long ago, he could tell. He recognized the style, as he had seen it already.

“Is this Hazel’s painting?” He asked.

Beatrice nodded. “Do you know her, sir?”

“I met her in Rosings in June,” Will said. “But I already knew her brother, from when he visited Meryton.”

“Tell me, is he as handsome as he is in these paintings?” Artemis asked.

Beatrice chuckled, stating that he was. Artemis’ eyes stayed on Will, and if her smile was anything to go by, his blush was answer enough for her.

 Lastly, Beatrice brought them to the library, but Will was lost in the way. A slow melody played on the violin reached his ears, and as a fool he followed it. Since he was always behind them, his companions didn’t even notice.

The door was left ajar. In the air lingered a familiar scent, sweet. Only when he noticed, did Will know that he was hoping for another. He stumbled back, but Hazel’s melody didn’t even falter.

Will turned, and before he knew it, he was on the balcony, and then down to the connected stairs. He passed through the gardens, breathing in the scent of fresh flowers. He closed his eyes, turning his face to the sun, and leaning back against a column.

The distinct sound of a carriage trained by horses shook Will from his peace. Was it Artemis’? No, they had left it at the inn, and come by foot. So he walked again, and reached the front of the house, to see the carriage being taken away, and Artemis, Hippolytus and Beatrice talking to a man.

The doors opened to reveal Hazel, her gown in her hand, the brightest of smiles on her face, as she called her brother’s name. Not that Will was surprised in the least to see that it was Mr. di Angelo.

Artemis gestured for Will to come closer, and he did, although the ground was spinning under his feet, and there was nothing anchoring him to reality.

Mr. di Angelo let his sister down, as Artemis presented Will as her brother’s son. Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrows shot up, as Hazel greeted Will, squeezing his hands. Mr. di Angelo was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt, that left most of his shoulders and collarbones exposed. Will looked away with a blush.

“It’s been so long,” Hazel told him, as they went back inside, hooking an arm in his and one in her brother’s. “How is your family doing?”

Will nodded, completely transfixed on the patterns on the floor.

“William?” She called him. When he startled, she looked over at her brother.

Mr. di Angelo had an eyebrow raised, as he always had, and seemed very stoic. Will wanted to shake him, and see the man behind the statue, the one that had written him the letter that had kept him awake for several nights.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he said. “Could you repeat, please?”

Hazel chuckled. “I was asking about your family.”

“They are doing fine,” Will said. “My sister Piper has returned to London, and in the next few days Mitchell will return from Brighton. In three days I will return home, too.”

“I’m afraid I may have changed your plans,” Mr. di Angelo said. “I have invited Miss Solace to fish in our lake. You are welcome to join us, of course.”

“Fishing is boring,” Hazel cut in. “I will show William the gardens.”

They stopped in the parlor, where Mr. di Angelo called a servant to bring tea.

“My older sister spoke highly of the Hunters,” Mr. di Angelo told Artemis. “You may know my cousin, Thalia Grace. She works with you, now.”

Artemis nodded. “Of course. She is brilliant. And she left for Meryton, too, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Mr. di Angelo told her. His eyes flickered to Will. “She and Mrs. Jackson are thinking of returning during the Autumn, but I don’t think they will want Mr. Jackson, Mr. Grace nor me, too.”

“You should,” Will said.

Mr. di Angelo blushed, or something close to it.

 Will didn’t see Mr. di Angelo the following day, as he had already left the estate to prepare the boat. A butler walked Artemis and Hippolytus to the docks, so that they could reach him.

“When dad was still alive, they used to go fishing together,” Hazel told him. “I never joined them, but sometimes Percy and his father did.”

“Your brother wanted to be a merchant, didn’t he?” Will said, recalling the letter.

Hazel giggled. “He did. How did you know?”

Will blushed, but lied easily. “He told me.”

They laid a blanket to sit on in the grass, opening the basket Hazel had stuffed with food.

“He was a sweetheart when he was little. Your youngest brother is only seven, am I right?”

Will nodded. “He hasn’t presented, but we know he’ll be an Omega. His scent is so sweet. Mr. Caesar knows it, too.”

“He is your father’s heir, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. My step-mother is already lost in desperation over it.”

“It must be so hard, knowing your house won’t be yours forever,” she said. “Especially if you still have children as young as your brother Jonathan.”

Will hadn’t thought about it that way. But as he did, for the first time, he wished to never have to feel what Aphrodite had, when she had married his father, only to then realize how frail their stability was.

 Being tired, Will had chosen to leave for the inn early. He and Hazel separated at the door, with the newly made promise of writing.

“William.”

Will startled, looking behind himself, where Artemis, Hippolytus and Mr. di Angelo were coming from. Mr. di Angelo didn’t smile, but his shoulders relaxed, and so did his face.

“May I see you to the village?” Mr. di Angelo asked him.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, or maybe more. “No, no! I’m very fond of walking.”

“Yes, I know.” He hesitated for a moment, and opened his mouth as if he were about to say more, but changed his mind the last second. “I know.”

Will nodded, and took a step back. “Goodbye, then.”

Mr. di Angelo nodded without a word, his jaw closed so tightly a muscle jumped. Will’s eyes stayed on him longer than they should have, as his words echoed in his mind, with nothing to stop them.

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Will couldn’t find it in himself to forgive Mr. di Angelo for the pain he had admitted loving him caused, as though Will were some unlovable creature.

 When Will reached the inn, he was surprised to find a letter for himself from his sister Piper. He opened it when he was already in bed. He read it once, then three other times, but it still wasn’t enough to make sense of the words written. Before he knew it, he was crying.

Will’s thoughts went to his family, and when he cried about them enough, his mind went to Mr. di Angelo, and how he would never see him again, as a man of his standing would never mix with one whose Omega brother had run away from home. After all, it seemed that Mitchell had really managed to throw away the good name of the family.

 When Will heard the sound of a carriage outside, he quickly moved downstairs, crumbled letter in his hands. Artemis was talking to Hippolytus, and of course Mr. di Angelo was with them, because somehow he had acquired extremely good-manners in the time Will hadn’t seen him.

Artemis talked to him, but Will didn’t hear a word, only trusted the letter in her hands. Hippolytus asked what was happening, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s confused brow, but Will couldn’t bring himself to talk, he wasn’t even sure he still had a voice.

“Oh, dear goodness,” she said, her arm going around Will’s waist. She bared her neck, and Will didn’t have to think twice before letting the scent envelope him. “There’s been a problem with one of his siblings.”

Will turned to Mr. di Angelo. He would have felt like a liar and a hypocrite to keep it, when he had been told so much about the other’s life. “Mitchell ran away with Lawrence.”

Mr. di Angelo paled, taking a step closer and raising his hands, dropping them again when he realized he didn’t know where to put them. He looked so utterly lost in that conflict, Will would have laughed.

Shame curled in Will’s chest. He wished Mr. di Angelo hadn’t come, so Will’s last memory of him would have been that of him in the gardens in front of Pemberley, with the sun shining on him, when, with only one step, Will would have reached him. Now he felt far, far away.

“Tomorrow you will bring Will home,” Artemis told Hippolytus. “I’ll reach my brother in London, see what we can do.”

Sometime later, when he was in bed about to fall asleep, Will realized that he didn’t remember going upstairs, nor bidding Mr. di Angelo goodbye. He almost wished he did.

 As expected of her, Mrs. Solace was utterly heartbroken. She cried and cried. Her son was lost forever, and her late-husband would never forgive her. Jonathan didn’t understand what was happening, and Piper and Will tried to keep him and the others out of the house as much as they could. However, they could only find a resemblance of peace when they were together under the furs, a pile of limbs and familiar scents.

Some days later, Apollo returned. Jonathan jumped in his arms as soon as he got out of the carriage, and their father scented him thoroughly. He took Piper in his arms, too. Will watched from the door, too afraid to walk out.

“You didn’t find them,” Will stated.

Apollo let go of Piper, but he kept Jonathan close. As he opened the mouth to reply, the door opened behind Will, revealing Austin.

“So?” He asked. “Where is Mitchell?”

“Let’s go inside,” Apollo said, rubbing his eyes, under which dark circles aged his face.  

Will exchanged a look with Piper. Apollo would have already talked if there had been good news. They went upstairs, and Mrs. Solace wailed again when she saw her husband, only stopping when he sat beside her on the bed, caressing her neck.

“We almost found them,” he said. Will’s heart stopped. “They rented an apartment in the outskirts of London, but when we arrived they had already left.”

“What did he want from Mitchell?” Lacy asked. “Why couldn’t he wait to marry him properly?”

Will sighed, moving closer to his sister and putting his arms around her from behind. Truth be told, he didn’t know either. Mr. Lawrence had known that they weren’t rich, Mitchell didn’t have Hazel’s dowry. With them, he wouldn’t find much. If he married Mitchell at all, that would be the real surprise.

“He’s lost,” Mrs. Solace said. She hid under the furs, wailing loudly. “My boy, my poor boy.”

 For almost another week, the house mourned Mitchell (and also their good name).

“I can’t believe he escaped,” muttered Lacy several times, leaning with her shoulder against the corridor as Will was passing.

Will, knowing well that she didn’t even know she was talking out loud, walked past her. Drew caught his forearm, dragging him in the parlor with her, where she was just waiting for another victim.

“If we say that he died–” she started in a low tone.

“No,” Will said firmly.

“–as if you haven’t thought about that, too.”

Will sighed. “I really haven’t, and you should stop.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“As you didn’t the first thirty times I told you.”

Drew rolled her eyes, hissing something under her breath, probably a plot against Will’s life. Calling every last bit of patience he still had, Will maintained his calm, and quietly walked away, only to be too quiet, and cause Austin to not hear him, and run into him.

“Are you a ghost or something?” Austin asked, rubbing his head. “I didn’t even hear you.”

Just a day or two prior, Piper had asked Will why he had been so silent lately, also stating he didn’t look much like himself. Not to give her any more heartbreak, Will used Mitchell’s situation as an excuse for his perturbation. And he was thinking of a man, it just wasn’t Mitchell, nor Mr. Lawrence. He thought that he wanted to know more about Mr. di Angelo, and dance with him again, in a situation that he could enjoy, unlike the first time. He also thought about Hazel, and how their friendship had already come to an end.

“What were you even running for?” Will asked, helping Austin up.

Austin lightened, clapping his hands. “Post!” He exclaimed, grabbing Will’s hand. “From aunt Artemis.” Austin didn’t let go of him, running to the garden, where Mr. Solace was, standing alone under the sun.

A window opened from above as he read, for Mrs. Solace stuck her head out.

“What were you two running for?” She shouted. “No running in the house!”

“We are in the garden!” Austin responded.

Will scuffed his brother in the head. “There’s a letter from aunt Artemis!”

Mrs. Solace shrieked, calling the other children to the garden. As she disappeared from the window, Austin turned to remember her not to run in the house with a loud shout.

The door opened, Kayla and Piper falling to the ground, Lacy stopping just before she walked on them, as Drew snickered out loud, nudging Piper’s foot with her own. Mrs. Solace didn’t notice them, and stumbled on Kayla’s legs.

“Dear,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you doing on the ground when we may finally know of your brother’s future?”

“And ours!” Drew said. “We are one step from falling into utter disgrace, remember?”

Mr. Solace laughed, loud and clear. “Oh, dear.” Attention shifted back to him, as he shook his head. The shadows that had been on his face for days finally left, leaving him in a state of utter delight. “They will marry, if I pay him £132 every year.”

“That’s so little,” Piper said, smoothing her gowns, as Mrs. Solace clapped in absolute delight.

“Your aunt must have paid him something already,” Mr. Solace said. “I doubt he would have married your brother, had it been otherwise.”

Mrs. Solace gasped. “Why would you say something so unromantic? If they ran away together, they must love each other! Mitchell is beautiful and charming, who wouldn’t want to marry him?”

“Does she know the same Mitchell as I do?” Drew asked Will.

“Drew,” Piper hissed.

“There’s no need to say the things we are already thinking out loud, dear,” Mr. Solace reprimanded her. “If you’ll excuse me, I must write back immediately. Unless my dearest wife thinks there’s no need to reassure him with our money, and that I should just let them be. After all, they love each other.”

 The carriage stopped in front of Longbourn House. Mitchell acted as the star of a parade, waving at them delightfully. Jonathan was the only one who waved back.

“I can’t believe he did this to us,” Austin whispered, his lips tugged downwards. “He would have thrown us all in the dirt to have – have fun with that man.”

Lacy’s hand reached for his, her hold so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t seem to mind, only dropping his head on her shoulder, as uncomfortable as it was, since he was much taller than her.

“We only need to get through today,” Will said. “Then we can forget all about this.”

“Mitchell is married,” Kayla said. “We can’t forget. He’s – he’s lost, mother was right.”

“He was lost long before this,” Piper cut in. “He was lost when all he did was flirting with officers and spend his time idly lazing around.”

The matter was dropped, as their parents were done talking to the spouses, and it was their turn to greet them.

Mitchell showed them his ring several times, and uncovered his neck for them to see Mr. Lawrence’s bites. Each time, Will nodded, smiling tightly, acting like his heart wasn’t breaking, and shivers weren’t running down his spine, despite the temperature. If his siblings’ expressions were anything to go by, he wasn’t alone in the act.

The one who felt more at fault was Piper. She wasn’t only the oldest of the family, but also Mitchell’s oldest by blood. Whereas Kayla and Austin still tended to turn to Will first for counsel, the McLeans went to Piper first.

Mr. Lawrence remained inside with their parents, while Mitchell joined the siblings in the garden. Even in his mind, Will had already started referring to him as Mitchell instead of brother, his instincts recognizing the change in his scent. He was Mitchell, but he wasn’t Will’s Mitchell. Separation hit wolves hard, even if packs weren’t formally stated, hadn’t been since before medieval times.

Lacy sat on the swing, Kayla cuddling beside her.

“You will want to avoid doing that, if you want to look adult enough for a husband,” Mitchell said.

Piper opened his mouth to reply, and so did Will, ready to cut Mitchell off before the youngers stared believing him, but Austin did it first.

“I don’t even want to know the things you did to get that husband,” he said.

Something like hurt flashed in Mitchell’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with anger. “I won’t tell you anything, as you are, and will always be, my younger and jealous brother.”

Austin slumped against the tree, shaking his head, and looking utterly defeated.

“You should have come up for my wedding,” Mitchell said. “It would have been even funnier with all of you there. I’m the third oldest, and the first to marry.”

Drew outright scoffed, and Will pinched her side. Whatever had happened, they couldn’t change it, even if they cursed Mitchell out. Drew was being courted by Lou Ellen, Lacy was ‘secretly’ talking to Artemis about joining the Hunters, Austin had dreams of touring with his music, and Kayla sometimes was keen on joining him. Who knew when they would all be together again!

“Mr. di Angelo said we didn’t have time to bring you all up there,” Mitchell continued, and then covered his mouth, as though it could put the words back in.

Will startled. “Mr. di Angelo?” He asked.

His siblings probably did the same, but the world around him was spinning, and he was numb to everything, except for Mitchell’s next words.

“He was there. He is friends with Bryce, he told me. He’s the last person before Bryce talked to before proposing to me. I swore to secrecy, though. For some reason, he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.”

[cupsofsuga]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - i already did this ask for namjoon and jungkook! you can find that here! thank you for requesting, kitten!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Ask ;How do their parents treat them / How’s their relationship? For all of them ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

as a young child, jin’s parents might as well sell their soul to satan to mold their child into their unrealistic idea of a perfect son

their hatred for the fragrance of summer, how they smolder with resentment to the sight of laughter

they’re pure evil, and jin is all alone

his emotions are rampant and he can’t locate any anecdote to calm the raging storm

his father, a man who scolds him for the tears that fall down his face and the curling of a dreamy smile

he forbids emotions of any kind, telling his son to “man-up” whenever he senses an inkling of emotion staining his musk

his mother, who views her son as a pet rather than a real human being

the heavy amount of control is crystal clear, but, with enough manipulation that sounds like a cunning incantation, she has the world in her dainty palms

and god, does it anger jin

how they manipulate every breath he takes, how they take advantage of every fleeting moment, how they claim to be the wind under his wings

his parents believed he is destined to dress in the facade they crafted just for him

but, jin cannot be a single expression of himself

there’s too many spaces, too many crevices, too many manifestations, too many curves, too many juts

he mustn’t fit into the tight title of perfection, and instead, spread his atoms amongst the galaxy

he must solely be himself, and then, he will find inevitable tranquility

unfortunately, this pattern stretched out into his teenage years and bloomed like a dreamy iris in the midst of summertime

how his parents still scold him as if he’s a toddler for getting a C on a quiz or for not cleaning his room the “right way,” the bitter loneliness behind the rage is insufferable

his rebellion peaks and the inevitable urge to run away swims through his veins like a drug

to only spend his day in lands unknown, the melting eyes and slipping opinions can simply fade

to only find harmony and drown in the depths of it

oh, if only someone could just take him away from here…

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

spending days in the garden, yoongi's youthful imagination often got the best of him

how he’d spend his future in cloy days, presenting his piano pieces to millions and robbing the hearts of people worldwide with his poetry

how he’d find infatuation with shimmering days, the burden of his mother simmering to ash

how he’d have the galaxy in his hands and the stars at his feet

how he’d be able to live

and just how happy he’d be in adulthood

his mother, who has found comfort in being a raging alcoholic, views her son as a burden

he is unwanted, an accident, entirely useless

and yoongi must find comfort in these swollen days before the black hole swallows him whole

he’ll spend his days reading poetry and bonding with the authors, playing the dusty piano in the attic and crafting piano pieces

he’ll pretend he’s discovering the wonders of an enchanted forest within the garden, adorned with dead, faltering plants and a horrific amount of weeds

in the dead of night, when his loneliness gets the best of him, he’ll tug at his pocket watch he found buried in the garden once

he’ll find sympathy within himself

and for now, this will have to do

unfortunately, his teenage years weren’t as bright, either

yoongi wasn’t an outcast, he wasn’t popular, he was simply a watcher who blended in with the crowd

his creativity had died down and become muffled, his passion for the future had been dulled down to reality

his world is clouded, his eyes have grown gray, his isolation consumes him like an inferno

he is simply gone

and how he craves to watch the stars breathe, to feel the planets kiss against his pale skin

but as reality sets in with the awakening sun, he knows his fate is sealed

he knows his heart will always be blue

oh, if only someone could just take him away from here…

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

as a young child, hoseok’s parent’s and their absence did not affect him, for he is too deceived by the whorls of his own world to pay a hint of attention to his common sense

he assumed every child experienced their youth the same as his and resumed his imagination of being luke skywalker, waltzing through the backyard, creating light-saber sound effects and befriending mythological creatures during his journey through space

and although the further relationship with his parents will not brighten, hoseok is far too preoccupied with the frenzy of his creations

he is too enhanced with the blossoms that lie underneath the frostbites

he is too infatuated with the sunbeams that lie within the tender night

he is too enamored with the friendly snowmen lurking the streets in winter’s embrace

he is deluded by the brimming light to feel any form of concern for the angel of coldness who is hot on his tail

and there’s only so much time before fate pushes him off the hill, letting him plummet to his destruction

his father, an intense workaholic who promises his son an inkling of his time to play catch and all that, but falls into the habits of a work-obsessed man, once again

he assures his son that he loves him, but, one look into all of the lies that lie underneath the thick facade, his feelings are crystal clear

his mother, who can’t seem to find herself in the midst of a white-picket fenced dream finds aid in dry wine

she’ll scold her son for muddy knees and speak faux lies to her husband to shield her dirty affair

she’s a liar who doesn’t know if this is the life she wanted to play out

and as his teenage year's blossom, his solicitude and devotion for his parents die down to where they are college roommates you avoid rather than parental figures

his hope is still held tightly to his chest, but, anyone with eyes can see that light start to dim down

anyone can see the stars in his eyes begin to fade

oh, if only someone could just take him away from here…

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

from the time of his youth, there had always been a perceptible boundary between him and his father

being the child of a businessman, there is bound to be effects that stalk you like the monster under your bed

jimin had coped with this longing by seeking delight within his imagination

from being the trusty knight to a kingdom to discovering the seven seas while riding on the backs of sea turtles to swarming through the skies as he saves the city from harm, his creativity serves as a shield from the violent universe just outside his bedroom door

he is all alone in these days, and only has himself to cope with these sudden epiphany’s

these ephemeral moments fade into deluded thoughts and there's only so much freedom before the downfall reckons upon him

his father is a stranger who sleeps just two rooms down the hall from jimin

he is wealthy, lathering himself in diamonds as he calls his son by the wrong name for the umpteenth time

to this day, jimin is still uninformed of who is mother is and finds himself longing for the hypothetical solace

for the universality of his life, his father had dwelled in numerous women, all showing off plastic smiles and faux sympathy

god, does jimin hate them

and as his teenage years blossomed, his feelings only intensified

he rejected his father’s attempts at manipulations with dull gifts, instead preferring to soak in the lonely stars as they welcome him

there are only so many years before he is thrown into the footsteps of his father, accompanying the business and losing his sanity to money

poor jimin just craves the holy embrace of aphrodite

he craves the presence of the moon in all of it’s glory

and soon, as his soul blossoms, his grief can be deemed as pitiful

how many times he’s prayed for the presence of the stars, sunbeams against empty skin, for the tides to carry him to shore

how he has prayed for the luminescence of the world but ends up with grey days, once again

oh, if only someone could just take him away from here…

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

taehyung breaths in the stereotypical suburban lifestyle

he has the proud houses, irritating children, and arrogant characters who cover their judgment with plastic smiles

peer in through the curtains of the estate that he attends and you’ll find a family with dull connections

even as a kid, his parents always left a tangible expanse in between them and their son

he’ll listen as adults gawk at his artwork, claiming he’d be an artist one day as his parent's nod, refusing to acknowledge the fact that they haven’t seen a single work of his

he’ll listen to people worship him for his eye in art, declaring to his parents that they had taught him well, even though voices unheard recognize the distance between their hearts

both of his parents are paper copies of each other, or maybe taehyung just doesn’t know them well enough to detect any discernible variation between these two outsiders

they’re workaholics, always claiming to have a task to patch up whenever their son nags them for even an inkling of their lionized attention

this pattern he has been thrust into is eternal; this loophole taehyung has been stuck in is inevitable, and remained this way up to his teenage years

as a teenager, taehyung and his parents could be classified as strangers living under the same roof

his attachment to his parents has weakened and there is only so much time before he is freed from their prison

he is not lonely but instead finds comfort bathing in the scent of himself as he drowns his sorrows with paint and polaroids

he is not sad but instead finds comfort in the frenzy of these melancholy, eternal nights where he’ll dance with planets till reality shakes

he is not empty but feels the touch of winter as the sun rises into the sky

oh, if only someone could just take him away from here…

[helaintoloki]

Forever and Always

pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

warnings: fluff at first, angst, character death, angry Poe, happy-ish ending

notes: too many of my pieces are inspired by music smh anyway this is inspired by the mtv unplugged version of take on me (the one they used in Deadpool hehe) also if tumblr doesn’t put this in the tags again I’m going to combust

~So needless to say I’m odds and ends, but that’s me. I’m stumbling away, slowly learning that life is okay.~

“C’mon sleepyhead, wake up,” she giggles, fingers gently poking at his sides as she climbs back into bed and straddles his torso. “We promised Finn and Rey we’d go with them to the marketplace.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Poe mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed but a groggy smile clear on his features as his calloused hands come to rest upon her thighs.

“Poe Dameron, quit being so stubborn and get up or I’ll just have to go without you,” y/n scolds, but her light giggles reveal the lack of anger and annoyance in her tone.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Poe chides, and y/n shrieks in surprise as Poe yanks her down to his chest and rolls over so she’s pinned underneath him. He’s warm against her, bare chest weighing her down so that she’s helpless and trapped.

“Poe!” She laughs, pushing at his chest to no avail as she tries to escape.

“Rey and Finn will just have to go without us,” Poe declares, “because we are not moving from this spot for the rest of the day.”

“You’re insufferable,” y/n giggles and gives up trying to break free from his cage. Instead she wraps her arms around his bare shoulders and nestles her head into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his comforting scent and relishing in the way his curls at the back of his neck tickle her nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Commander? Can you hear me? I’m sorry, we did everything we could. It was just too late,” the nurse’s soft voice whispers, her hand gently resting on the pilot’s shoulder. She exchanges a worried look with the General at Poe’s unresponsiveness, for he simply does nothing but stare distantly at the wall ahead of him.

“Poe,” Leia murmurs, “I’m releasing you from your duties today. Your only order is to go back to your quarters and rest.”

Her motherly touch brings him temporary solace, eyes fluttering shut as she combs back his messy curls with her fingers. He is exhausted, tired beyond belief after a grueling twenty four hour mission. But how can he go back to his now empty quarters and hope to fall asleep? She wouldn’t be there, wouldn’t still be up reading a book because she refused to rest until she was sure he was back and safe beside her. Y/n wouldn’t be there to welcome him with open arms and gentle kisses as she helped him get out of his flight suit and into bed, brushing his hair for him as she hummed a lullaby from her home planet. She wouldn’t be there to hold, to whisper sweet nothings to until all he could hear was her even breathing and quiet snores. Y/N was gone, and Poe was not willing to accept that.

“I can’t,” Poe whispers in a shaky breath. “I can’t sleep. Not now.”

“Poe,” Leia chides gently, “she wouldn’t want you like this.”

“Well she’s not here now, is she?” Poe snaps, rising from his seat so quickly the chair is thrown out from under him. “So how can I know what she would or wouldn’t want?! What she’d want is to be alive! Y/N deserved to make it back home and as Commander I failed her.”

“Poe-“

“Don’t,” he says, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he shakes his head, “just don’t.”

He walks away then, and Leia can only hope that things will get better for the pilot soon. But as a veteran of heartbreak, the General knows it will be some time before Poe will ever be okay again.

~~~

BB-8’s soft beeps rupture the tense silence in the room, his inquiring whirs halting Poe’s movements.

“Her family is asking for her belongings,” is Poe’s gruff reply as he stuffs another dress into the crate. “How many damn dresses are there?”

BB lets out another chorus of sad beeps, prompting Poe to roll his eyes with an annoyed huff.

“No, we’re not keeping anything. Why should her killer get that privilege?” Poe grumbles. “And don’t you say any different because you’re wrong. You were on that mission, you saw everything. She couldn’t shake those TIE fighters, I told her to hold on but I-I should have helped her the second I knew she was in trouble!”

BB-8 nudges against his owner’s legs, head hung low in sorrow for his master’s heartbreak. If only there was something the little droid could do... BB-8 bursted with a sudden jolt of energy, ramming into Poe’s leg as he let out a symphony of excited beeps.

“Hey, slow down! You know I can’t understand you when you’re like this,” Poe scolds. “What’s the matter?”

It’s safe to say Poe is stunned when BB-8 projects her image, alive and smiling as if she were right there in the room with him.

“Hey, hotshot,” she giggles, “Surprised? BB-8 helped me put this together.”

“Y/n,” Poe whispers, afraid that one wrong move would make her image go away. She smiles lovingly at the pilot, slowly raising her hand so that Poe may press his palm against her own. His fingers slip through the hologram much to his dismay, but his eyes are shining with tears and he can’t help but smile at her image.

“Guess that doesn’t really work, huh?” She laughs. “I made this for you just in case... I don’t want you to be alone. So whether I die in a fiery crash or of old age, you’ll always have me with you. And don’t mope around for me, okay? That’s not the man I fell in love with.”

“Stars,” Poe breathes. When did she have time to make this?

“I love you. I’ll be waiting for you amongst the stars, flyboy,” y/n smiles. “Did we get it BB-8?”

The projection ends after that, her image tucked away in the droid’s hard drive for safe keeping. Poe is speechless as he sinks back into the mattress and stares at the spot y/n stood just seconds ago. BB-8 chirps gently in concern.

“No, I’m okay,” Poe murmurs with the shake of his head. “I just... I miss her.”

And though he begins to cry for the first time since her death, Poe knows that things can only get better from here. After all, she’s waiting for him out in the stars, and Poe knows the day will come where he’ll be by her side her again. Forever and always.

[dontshootmespence]

Aastha

Part 3 of 4

Summary: After an unimaginable loss, you discover your powers and become even more cemented in your faith. Sam experiences a similar loss and struggles with it. When you meet, how will your lives change?

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Indian!Superhero!Reader

Words: 1,922

A/N: This is for @bucky-smiles 2K Bollywood Writing Challenge! My prompt was Jab Tak Hai Jaan. The thing that stood out most to me was both of the protagonists’ struggles and/or commitments to faith, so that’s what I drew on for this fic. Although I know that Sam is an orphan in the comics, having lost both his parents to violence, I had him be raised by his mother, so she’s still alive here.

Beta’d by: The lovely @bucky-smiles herself. I wanted to make sure I did the culture and religion justice, so thank you! Also beta’d by another Indian lovely @emilyshurley​, who also made the above aesthetic for me. Thank you both for working with me. It meant a lot for me to get the culture and religion right because representation fucking matters, so your help was invaluable to me. <3

A relationship, or gasp!, love had never really been in the plans, until that morning at the Washington monument, bonding with a man named Sam Wilson about the infuriating whirlwind that was the 30-minute, 13-mile Steve Rogers. “He’s insufferable, right?” You asked, breaths heavy yet steady at your pace.

“Unbearable,” he laughed, letting go of the competition with Steve to hang back with you. “You’re Agni, right? New Avenger?”

“Been with them for about two years now, so not new. But newer. And the name’s Y/N. And despite the “A” it’s pronounced ‘ugh-nee. It’s the Sanskrit word for fire.” He smiled; impressed.

You’d never felt the need to hide your story – how you became who you were - but what Sam said next took you aback. “Sorry about your mom.”

“Thanks,” you replied, smiling fondly at the memory of her perfectly imperfect smile and shining brown eyes. “I can’t say for sure why I made it out and she didn’t. All I know is what I believe. I plan to do right by her memory.”

“That’s really admirable,” he said genuinely. “I lost someone too, and I think it broke my faith. I admire anyone who can keep it.”

“I have to,” you replied. “My faith grounds me.”

----

It was your distinct differences in regards to loss and faith that drew you closer. Sam was consistently inspired by your ability to hold onto something so intangible as faith when you’d lost so much. After every mission, you all needed to decompress, and you decompressed in your own unique ways, but time and time again, the two of you spent your time together, watching bad movies, eating popcorn, playing pool – or more accurately kicking Sam’s ass at pool – but hey.

Though he’d lost his faith in God, you’d encouraged him not to lose faith all together, instead channeling that belief into something tangible. “What do you mean?”

“Well, faith is a shaky thing for some people. Because you can’t see it. What can you see? What can you see that you believe in?”

“This team. People. I believe in people.”

“Then that’s where your faith lies. You still have it; it’s just changed course.”

“How are you so wise?” He asked with a laugh.

“Just gifted, I suppose.” Leaning over, you kissed the underside of his chin. Somehow, through all this, you’d just found each other. There’d never been any official discussion of what you were to each other – you just knew. He was your best friend and confidant; the man you loved. Another blessing you were sure. There was no animosity between you and anyone else on the team; you got along with everyone, but you found solace in Sam, and he in you.

No one questioned it either. Not even Tony. Though he poked fun every now and then, which you would of course return, because he had Pepper. After a week without any action, you were almost starting to feel left out, until you, Sam, Nat and Steve were called on a mission.

At the rendezvous point, Fury briefed you on your mission. “Pieter Sidorov,” he said, looking straight toward Natasha. “You know him, right?”

“The Russian scientist and mass murderer? Yea, I’m familiar with his work. Rescue mission?”

“Extraction. We still don’t like the guy. He’s still a grade-A asshole. But after the fall of Hydra here, everyone left that’s loyal has gone into hiding. And Sidorov is aiding what’s left of Hydra within KGB airspace. I need the four of you to get him and bring him back. We need him alive.”

The four of you nodded simultaneously, your mission clear. With the help of a few still-trusted SHIELD pilots, you made your way into former KGB airspace. “Okay, what’s the game plan?” Sam asked, already outfitted in the new and improved EXO suit; Tony had made a few adjustments in the likely case one or both of the wings were damaged, so hopefully he would never be down for the count again. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Pieter Sidorov is a fucking genius. When you have that kind of intelligence, you go one of two ways, good guy or the worst guy. Guess which Sidorov is?” Nat started. “Anyway, he has no superpowers himself. It’s his suit. He developed a suit that allows him to suck the powers, and essentially life, from other super-powered people.”

“What can he do?” You asked. “He’s just any regular guy without the suit, but with? What do we have to look forward to?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, rattling off the list of abilities the suit imbued him with – telekinesis and telepathy. “With, obviously, the added bonus of sucking whatever powers you and Steve have,” she said, tilting her chin toward you. “So if he’s got the suit, don’t get caught.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you laughed. “We go in teams of two, yea?”

Tony and Steve were your de facto leaders, so you all looked to Steve for your assignments. “Yea. Nat and I will infiltrate the right side, you and Sam go left. Nat will hack us into the system and shoot the map of the inside of the helicarrier to your watches. You might think we need the suit too, but we don’t. It’s programmed to work with his DNA. Without him the suit is useless. We take everyone out in our way and grab Sidorov, unharmed, and bring him back to Fury. From there –“ He hesitated. “From there, I don’t want to know what Fury’s gonna do with him.”

You trusted Fury, but he was definitely a scary man. “Me either.”

“All of us will leave the way Nat and I went in. Sam, make sure your wings are operational. The rest of us, make sure our parachutes are ready to go. As soon as the pilots make the drop off, they’re out. When we hit the ground, Nat has a way out.”

“What way?” Sam asked. “Car, bus, train?” She didn’t answer, her face showing no indication of releasing her secret. “Secret underground base?”

When she raised her eyebrow, you and Sam exclaimed at the same time. “Shut the fuck up.”

Smiling, Steve ensured that everyone had their orders. “Alright,” he said, turning toward you and Sam as the pilot pulled into the hellicarrier’s airspace. “See you two on the other side. Be careful.”

“You too, Cap,” you said quietly.

After Steve and Nat jumped onto the roof of the carrier and made their way inside, the pilots swung around the left, letting you and Sam out before speeding away under the cloak of night. “Back me up,” you said softly.

“Always.” Your back was to him but he spoke with a smile. “Ten o’clock.” Sam hid in the shadows as a man, presumably a guard, approached. Your size, and apparently boobs, always made men underestimate you, leaving you the perfect opportunity to slip them into a chokehold and wait until they passed out.

The moment the guard fell to the floor, Sam emerged from the dark hallway. “Have I told you how sexy that is?” He asked.

“Not now, Sam,” you laughed. “But yes. And please tell me more when we get the fuck out of here.”

Within a minute of knocking the guard out, Nat had uploaded the map to your watches. Unfortunately, it also alerted the entire crew on board to your presence. You figured that would happen. “Alright, stay at the ready,” Sam spoke. “How many people on this helicarrier?”

“About 500.”

“Fuckin wonderful.”

Quickly, you glanced down at the map on your watch, charting the quickest and easiest way to where they were keeping Sidorov. “Right in the middle. Great. They’re coming after us either way. Wanna stealth it or make an entrance?” You asked.

“Baby, do you even have to ask?” Sam laughed.

“Entrance it is.” As you charged forward, Sam followed your lead, handling any stragglers that happened to make it beyond your wall of fire. Those that didn’t run scared, fell victim to your wrath, dissolving into piles of ash snaking through the grates at your feet.

From the opposite end of the vessel, you heard the cacophony of screaming voices. Of course, Steve and Nat were holding their own just fine.

A nearly 300-pound, 6 foot tall Russian made his way past you. Big dude, but agile as hell. He’d assumed you were the strength out of you and Sam, disregarding him to try and take you out. But that was his mistake. As the man put you in a chokehold, Sam pulled out a knife, dropping down and slicing both of his Achilles before spin-kicking him in the face and over the railing. “Thanks, babe.”

“No problem. Let’s go. I want outta here.”

Your well-oiled machine moved swiftly through the maze-like hallways. You’d have a few cuts and bruises, but since joining the Avengers, that was pretty much Tuesday. As you approached the room where Sidorov was being kept, you made your silent prayers for the successful completion of this mission. You’d always prayed beforehand, in one way or another, but in the thick of it, you couldn’t help but offer up a few more silent prayers.

Melting the metal doors before you, Sam barreled past you and grabbed Sidorov, before running straight into Nat and Steve. Sidorov’s eyes sparked with a hint of recognition. “Natasha?”

“Aww, so sweet, you remember. You’re coming with us.”

Steve took the front lines of your escape route, using his shield to push over everyone in his way, while Nat and Sam handled the scientist and you kept an eye on your six. “You ready to jump?” You yelled, wind whipping your skin as Nat opened the door they’d entered. She pushed Sidorov out, sans parachute, and was followed quickly by Steve, leaving you and Sam to bring up the rear.

“Go!” Sam screamed.

Despite having jumped out of planes with the team before, it never got any easier. As you sailed through the air, you chanced a glance back and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Sam jump too, only to watch a hook pierce the middle of his wings, ripping them off, and knocking him off balance. He spiraled in mid-air; you screamed into the wind, unable to do anything else but pray Tony’s upgrades kicked in.

Turning your attention toward the rapidly-increasing ground below, you waited for the right moment to deploy your parachute. When you ripped the cord, the parachute deployed, but apparently during your scuffle with the Russian guards, one of them had managed to slash it.

“Fuck!” Your heart raced as the ground approached, bracing for impact.

----

Sam panicked for a moment before his backup wings exploded out of the back of the EXO, giving him control once again. When he looked down, he saw his worst nightmare. “Not again. God, not again.” Y/N was fast approaching the earth with a slit parachute; she had a healing factor sure, but there would be nothing to heal if she pancaked into the pavement.

He retracted his wings and sped toward the ground, his hand stretched out in an attempt to grab her, the parachute, anything that might soften the fall. “Please God, don’t do this to me.”

Within a few hundred feet of the ground, he managed to grab her, only to have the chute make him lose his grip. For the second time in his life, Sam watched as someone he loved fell toward the unforgiving earth.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Fifteen - The Perfect Trap

“Victor wants to do what ?! Wait a minute.” I could barely believe my own ears, dropping the pile of documents and the coffee cup I was holding on my office desk. “Say it again, Terry.” I asked as I sat down.

“He wants to be discharged. Says he will sign the papers to leave. He actually wanted to leave today, but the doctor managed to convince him to stay until tomorrow, saying he had exams he needed to run.” Terry let out a frustrated sigh. “Could you please talk him out of it? He might listen to you.”

It was my turn to sigh. Victor was incredibly stubborn. I had a better chance of making a pig fly.

“I honestly don’t think I can help, Terry. It’s Victor we are talking about. When he gets something in that thick head of his--”

“It’s hard to convince him otherwise, I know. But you could at least try to get him to hire a nurse. He refused to. He is still not fully recovered.”

It seemed like I had my work cut out for me. I needed to get to Victor in a very good mood, use some hard logic with him, and maybe pull a little at his heartstrings. And even so, odds were against me.

To make matters even worse, the conditions I was working with weren’t anywhere near what I would need to persuade him. Victor was in a nasty mood most of the time, practically climbing the walls with boredom, eager to get back to work and get in on the action again. Terry gave him his laptop, hoping it would keep him somewhat busy, but it only made him more anxious to return to LFG. He also had been refusing to take painkillers since he had woken up, claiming they made his brain foggy, and thus,  he was in a lot of pain. And to add insult to injury, he had people around him coddling him. I could tell he was tired of it. Even when we dated, it was very clear he needed his alone time once in a while, maybe a little more than the ordinary person. At the hospital with me, his aunt, and the nurses flitting around him all the time, he was unable to find solace, and it was starting to drive him crazy. All these things made Victor insufferable and moody, and, for the time being, there wasn’t a lot that could be done to improve his mood and make him more receptive to new ideas.

That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try, though. I convinced his aunt to leave at 2 pm, and give him an hour alone until I got to the hospital at 3. One hour wasn’t enough for him to overload with work, but maybe if he recharged for a bit, I would find him in a better mood. I went home after lunch and baked him his favorite peanut butter cookies, which I had already been planning to do since he woke up. Hopefully, that would also make him happier.

I had a plan. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was a plan, nonetheless. I knocked on his bedroom door, but got no response. I slowly crept in, careful not to wake him up in case he was sleeping. He was lying down, very quiet, his eyes closed. However, when you sleep with someone for quite some time, you tend to pick on some cues, so it was evident to me that he was not sleeping, but avoiding me. Not in a good mood then.  

“Victor?” I whispered. No response. “Giving me the silent treatment, are you?” Still no answer. “I can tell you’re not sleeping, you know. You snore when you sleep on your back.” I teased.

“I do not.” He refuted, opening one eye.

I smiled mischievously at him, having caught him in his lie. He scoffed at me.

“I was trying to sleep when a certain someone came and interrupted my rest.” He complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, then.” I pretended to believe his lie. “I actually needed your help with something, but I can come back later.” I started gathering my things, hoping he would take the bait. “I even brought cookies to reward you for your trouble.”

“What do you need my help with?” He asked, his eyes wide open now, watching me.

“Nothing important.” I shrugged. “You need to rest, I’ll come back later.” I tried to sound casual, knowing he was falling into my trap.

“I’m already up, you can tell me what it is.” He elevated the head of his bed to sit up, clearly interested. “What is it?”

I refrained from smiling. Gotcha.

“Well, remember when you said I needed an assistant? I have all these resumes, but really need some help deciding who I should interview. I’ve never had an assistant before.”

I could swear I saw Victor’s eyes twinkle briefly, his expression becoming focused. There was nothing that Victor loved more than being useful, especially if it was for someone close to him; one of the traits I admired in him the most. He seemed standoffish to most people, but he was actually extremely giving. I handed him the pile of resumes I had in my briefcase. He gave me a mocking, dismissive look.

“Did you bring coffee with those cookies?”

“I didn’t.” I palmed my forehead playfully. “Let me correct my mistake.”

I went down to the cafeteria to get us coffee. When I returned, Victor looked perfectly happy, a determined look in his eyes, organizing the resumes into piles. He took the coffee from my hand and nibbled on a cookie from the box in the table beside him, while he explained his method.

“I divided them into three piles. The best candidates are in this pile, these are the ‘Maybe’...” He pointed at the piles in front of him.

“The ‘Hell no’ pile?” I joked, pointing at the pile in front of me, that he hadn’t mentioned yet.

“I was going to say ‘Unfit’, but that works too.” Victor smirked at me. “You can put that one away, we won’t be needing it.”

“Are the cookies to your liking, Mr. Lee?” I asked.

“Acceptable.” Victor bit another cookie, trying to hide his smile.

“I didn’t have the time to make them in your favorite shape, I apologize for that.” I smiled, teasing him. He coughed slightly, the memory of the bachelorette party still very present in his mind.

“Shut up.” He said, swallowing the piece of cookie he had in his mouth. “I still haven’t fully recovered from that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his uneasiness. For someone so poised and collected, he was too easy to tease sometimes.

“Do you really need my help or are you here just to ridicule the injured?” He pretended to be offended.

“You are right, I’m sorry.” I picked up a resume from the ‘Maybe’ pile. “Ok, this one clearly belongs to the ‘Hell no’ pile.” Victor snatched the paper from my hands, reading it.

“Why? She has experience, speaks other languages. Not as experienced as the other, but not a bad choice either.”

“She’s wearing a cat sweater! In her resume! If I’m not careful, I’ll end up having a cat shrine in my office.” I joked.

“So? Tell her you’re allergic to cat pictures.” He joked back, making both of us laugh. “I’ll admit it’s a poor fashion choice, but she has the skills. She belongs in the ‘Maybe’ pile.” Victor put the resume back in its original place, not before I got another resume from that pile.

“And this guy! Look at his eyes. He has the eyes of someone that will kill you in your sleep.” I didn’t really mean it, but it was too fun to tease Victor.

“Don’t sleep on the job then. Are you taking this seriously? Don’t make me waste my time.” He scolded, but I could see he was having fun too.

We went together through the piles, leaving me with five candidates to interview, and two replacements. I was putting away the resumes in my briefcase when I decided to bring the subject up.

“So, your aunt tells me you want to discharge yourself tomorrow.”

Victor gave me a dirty look.

“Is that why you’re here?” He scoffed, his bad mood returning in a blink of an eye.

“No. I came to see you and I could use your help. I’m just commenting, that’s all.” I felt bad for lying, but it wasn’t a complete lie. I would’ve done those things, eventually, if his aunt hadn’t called. “But now that we are talking about it, don’t you think it’s a bit premature? I know the situation isn’t ideal, I know you well enough to imagine why you can’t stand it, but wouldn’t it be wise to wait until you have recovered a little bit more?”

“You’re not just commenting, you are trying to convince me into changing my mind. Don’t think I can’t see right through you.” Victor spat, clearly finished with the subject.

“Look, I just want to make sure that you are considering all the factors at stake here. You can barely walk, you still have trouble moving your arm. How are you going to cook for yourself, or even get a shower? Who will be with you if the pain gets worse?”

“Do you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself?” His tone showed a hint of annoyance and anger. I had taken a wrong turn in this conversation.

“I know you are perfectly capable, when you are healthy.” I looked at him with earnest eyes. “Either way, if you decide that is what you need to do, you won’t hear from me ever again. But you have to admit there are risks. What if you slip on the shower and get injured? Better to be in the hospital for three additional days than end up having to stay fifteen more due to a fall. If you really want to do this, at least hire a nurse.” I urged.

“To help me shower?” Victor raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you really see that happening?”

“Why, you didn’t like the sponge baths here?” I bantered, trying to lighten the mood.

“Would you like a sponge bath yourself? I can call you a nurse.” He bantered back, his face serious.

“Would the nurse be a hot male? Maybe I wouldn’t mind.” I playfully wiggled my eyebrows at him.

Victor looked away, giving me a frustrated scoff.

“Ok, let’s drop the subject. Just think about it, ok?” My tone was soft. “I just want you to be safe.”

His expression softened.

“I’ll take your words into consideration, though I can’t promise I will agree.”

Being here with Victor, having coffee and cookies, even in a hospital room, reminded me of past happy moments. It didn’t matter if we were together or apart, our relationship status did not change the companionship we had developed during the time we were friends and lovers. I felt completely at home with him, and I was perfectly aware he felt the same way too. Victor had a side of him he didn’t show to just anybody, but made easily available to me. And it was so familiar to me now that I could hardly remember the aloofness and severity in him, that made me dislike him at first.

We were talking and sipping our coffee, when suddenly his aunt erupted into the room.

“I got the answer to all our problems! The perfect solution.”

“If you are trying to deter me from leaving, let me tell you in advance it’s pointless.” Victor warned.

“No, not at all!” She was almost panting with excitement. “You get to go home, and you won’t be at risk.”

“Let’s hear that miraculous idea then.” Victor furrowed his eyebrows, still unconvinced. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s not actually my idea.” She sat, gesticulating while she talked. “I went to LFG to hand them those documents you signed, and your assistant’s wife came to ask how you were. The subject of you wanting to leave came up, and she offered a very reasonable solution.”

Diane offered the solution? This couldn’t be good.

“Which is?” Victor’s impatience was undeniable now. Even I was starting to get annoyed at how long Terry was taking to get to the point.

“Well, you want to go home but you need someone to be with you right?” Terry started.

“I don’t need-” Victor tried to argue, but his aunt wouldn’t let him.

“You do! You can barely walk! But you don’t want a stranger in your house, understandably. So we ask someone with whom you feel at ease, who knows you well, and, most importantly, who endures your moods.” She glared at him during this last part, and I stifled a laugh.

“And where can we find such a saint?” Victor’s tone was dripping annoyance at this point.

“Right beside you.” Terry said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Andrea could go. You would do that, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”

I froze at her question. Instinctively, I looked at Victor and found him looking at me, apparently trying to read my expression. And for what seemed like an eternity, neither of us was capable of uttering a single word.

[vannahfanfics]

3 a.m. Musings and Cherry Lip Gloss

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Hayner, Olette

With a small groan, Hayner cracked an eye open to peer sleepily at the alarm clock on his nightstand. The bright green numbers depicting 2:28 a.m., the only light source in the inescapable gloom of night, burned into his golden irises. With a louder, more aggravated groan, he rolled onto his back to shove his pillow over his head as if that would make him get to sleep faster. Instead, the neon letters imprinted into his corneas blazed in the dark of his closed eyes. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to lull himself to sleep, he jerked up into a sitting position, shoved the pillow off himself, and just stared out into the dark. 

Hayner didn’t usually struggle with sleep. Hell, normally, he passed out right as his head hit the pillow. It was an infuriating change of pace. It wasn’t like he had anything pressing to do in the morning, but the boy just liked his sleep. It was one of life’s many simple pleasures… one that was apparently going to be denied him tonight. He supposed that at least he could take solace in the fact that it wasn’t just some random bout of insomnia; there was at least a reason his mind was whirling one hundred miles an hour and just refused to shut off. 

Sora was missing. 

The three of them hadn’t been informed of the details. Roxas had just mentioned it in passing because he was depressed about it. There were things about Sora (and the others, too) that Hayner would probably never know- world-jumping and monster-fighting and data-worlds. He was content with that, but what he wasn’t content with was feeling so damn powerless in it all. 

Hayner didn’t have a fancy Keyblade that he could sling around and save the day. All he could do was wish, and wish, and wish. Hayner was pretty damn tired of wishing while everyone else charged in to do the work, though. He sighed deeply as he ran both his hands through his tousled blonde hair. Sure, he resented it, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. Hayner couldn’t wish some fancy weapon into existence, unfortunately. 

There’s nothing for it, Hayner thought as he rolled onto his belly to grab his cell phone off the nightstand. He plucked it off the charger and tapped the screen, recoiling with a light screech as it blazed to life and virtually disintegrated his eyeballs. Stuffing his face into the mattress to recover, Hayner swiped his thumb across the top of the screen to lower the brightness. After a minute, the scorching pain receded, and he wearily lifted his head to blink at the now-darkened phone screen. He pulled up his messaging app and tapped on his archived conversation with Olette. 

Hey, are you awake? The little bubble made a swoosh sound as it appeared on the screen. There probably was a snowball’s chance in hell that Olette would be awake. He would probably have more luck texting Pence, who was an insufferable night owl who somehow could operate on four hours of sleep and be that same cheerful ball of positivity instead of an irritated zombie. That’s how Hayner got after less than eight hours of sleep. Still, Hayner wasn’t sure he could use Pence’s radiant optimism right now. He was feeling out of sorts, and the one who always comforted him when he was that way was Olette. 

Hayner stared at the screen for a minute, waiting to see if the girl was going to respond. He was actually going to break down and just text Pence anyway until another swoosh alert signaled the arrival of another, differently-colored text bubble. 

I am. What are you doing up so late? 

Can’t sleep. What are YOU doing up so late?  Hayner countered. A faint smile ghosted over his lips as he drew up his legs over his back and laid his cheek against the soft mattress. Man, he was glad that she was awake. Something about that made him feel calmer already. Although, Hayner always got like that when it was just him and Olette- because he kind of had a pretty big crush on her… 

Heehee! I can’t sleep either! A soft sigh left his mouth. He could imagine that little giggle of hers, accompanied by the sweet smile hidden behind her hand that she raised to her mouth when she laughed. God, he was hopeless when it came to her. Want to meet at the usual spot? He sat up on his arm, intrigued. That was certainly a proposition he hadn’t been expecting at the wee hours of the morning. Still, it was a heck of a lot better than lounging in bed wishing he could fall asleep. 

Sure. I’m on my way. 

Within minutes, Hayner had changed out of his pajamas in favor of a pair of jeans, a slim-fit, long-sleeve white shirt, and a black jacket. Now that it was the tail end of summer, the nights were beginning to grow cooler, necessitating such precautions. Indeed, as he stepped out of his house onto the bricked streets of Twilight Town, a cold wind blew through the empty corridors and roadways with a quiet, shrill whistle, making Hayner shiver slightly and stuff his hands down into his pockets. Absently, he wondered if Olette had dressed warm enough. He would offer her his jacket if he thought she hadn’t. Setting a brisk pace, he began walking up the sloped incline that led to their secret meeting place. 

There wasn’t a soul out beside him. Hayner found the atmosphere peaceful; the town was always a-hustle and a-bustle with people walking towards the shopping district or conversing while they waited for the trams or just wandering about looking for something to do. Even far from the tracks, one could always hear the tram cars rattling as they continuously rounded their circuit of the city. Even the forest before the old mansion wasn’t free of noise; the trees always shook with the wind, and the air always abounded with chattering birdsong. 

Hayner, busybody supreme, had always found the noise somewhat comforting and energizing. However, as he strolled under the brilliant canvas of the starry night sky in silence, he found that pleasant and stimulating in its own way, too. 

God, he was going all philosophical. Is this what Pence did every night when he stayed up until the crack of dawn? Scowling, he rubbed at his eyes, feeling the bags that were already forming underneath them. He was probably going to regret this little excursion in the morning. 

In no time at all, his feet had carried him to their secret base nestled behind an unassuming chain-link fence. 

“Olette?” he called as he pulled back the curtain, not wishing to startle the girl if she was there. It was exceptionally likely, considering she lived closer to the base than he did. Sure enough, she perched on one of the overturned wooden boxes that served as their humble chairs. God, they needed to stop spending so much money on ice cream and pretzels and by some real furniture, especially considering that Lea, Isa, Roxas, and Xion were cramming themselves in there now, too. 

Olette cocked her head to the side while giving a little wave and that sweet, sweet smile of hers. It almost made Hayner melt on the spot. It seemed being awake so late was making him all sentimental, too. He was all out of sorts for all sorts of reasons. What a concept. “Hey, Olette,” he smiled back at her as he entered the small nook. 

“What’s on your mind, Hayner?” Yikes, right to the point. Scratching his head with an embarrassed smile, he hovered in the doorway. She waited patiently for him to answer, hands clasped in her lap and green eyes sparkling with pure goodness. God, he loved her, really. Wait. That isn’t the topic of conversation, he reminded himself. 

“I’ve just been thinking,” Hayner frowned as he struggled to put his complicated feelings into words, “how upset I would be if any of you guys just up and disappeared on me.” Wow, that actually came out articulated and cohesive. Not bad for being half-asleep. 

He walked over to sit on the small box across from her, resting a cheek in his hand while the other arm slung across his opposite knee. “I know there’s nothing we can do about Sora, but I can’t help but think about it, y’know? I can’t imagine what the others are goin’ through. I’d be devastated if you vanished, Olette.” 

The words hung in the air for a moment before he realized exactly what he had said. He immediately blushed fiercely, almost grasping upwards to pluck them down and shove them back into his mouth. That wasn’t how things worked, though. He shrunk into himself in mortification as Olette stared at him with owlish eyes. 

Hayner decided then and there not to have any more 3 a.m. conversations with Olette. 

The tense silence that settled between them also made him elect that silence was no longer comforting. “Um… Say something, please,” he asked awkwardly after it became too much for him to bear. 

“O-oh!” she cried while flushing pink and waved her hands about in an apologetic manner. “I’m sorry, I just zoned out?” She laughed with a nervous smile. Hayner frowned lightly as he resumed his horrible slouching posture. It was definitely a weak excuse, but like hell he was gonna question it. “Um, yeah… I totally get what you mean. To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it too… It’s also why I couldn’t sleep. I’m almost afraid that I would wake up, and…” she trailed off to play with her fingers, gaze falling to her lap, “you not being here anymore…” she finished shyly, glancing up through her pretty lashes at him. 

If Olette was really hinting that she liked him as he liked her, well, she was probably questioning it, because Hayner looked pretty stupid with the way his mouth was hanging open as he gawked incredulously at her. Hastily, he shut his mouth and leaned back, unsure quite what expression he was trying to make on his face at the moment. Somehow he managed to form words, though. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, Olette… I’ll always… be here…” The could’ve come out smooth as hell, but he made it sound so awkward and shy. Well, it really was a wonder he said it at all because he sure wouldn’t have if it were a typical time of day. 

For the duration of him saying it, his eyes had been searching the meeting spot for something to land on, only to drift back to Olette. He instantly felt his heart clench in his chest; the way she was looking at him right now, so relieved and happy with just a hint of a demure smile on her pretty pink lips… 

Wait, did she have on lip gloss? Who puts on lip gloss at 3 a.m.? 

His hands flew to the edges of the box underneath him when she suddenly stood up and walked across the room to stand in front of him. He encased that box in a white-knuckled grasp as he looked up at her uncertainly. 

“Promise?" she asked him softly, endearingly, hopefully. With the way the sleep was fogging his brain, he began to wonder if this was all a dream, that he really was asleep after all. Well, if it was a dream, why stop, and if it wasn’t and he really was awake, all the better. 

“Promise. I’m not going anywhere, Olette.” 

Hayner should pull a move. Girls liked moves. The movies all said so. 

He pried one of his hands from the box and tried to ignore the bright red imprint of its rough surface against his palm. He reached out to grasp one of her own, gently rolling circles into the top of it with his thumb. From the way she bashfully looked down at their held hands then up at him, he could tell that it was a successful move. Point one for sleep-deprived Hayner. 

Olette reached up with her other hand to softly brush her fingertips over his cheeks. The feather-light touch sent electricity skittering across his entire face that lingered after her hand had already fallen away. 

“I’m glad.” The way she whispered the words sent an oddly pleasurable shiver up his spine. He got a sudden urge to kiss her. 

Was he crazy? Probably. Then again, he was dangerously close to lunacy already from not sleeping. 

Was he going to go for it? Absolutely. 

“Olette…” Her name crept past his lips without him noticing as he stood up, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her. He still held her hand while his other rested against her cheek, fingertips just barely threading into her waves of chestnut hair. She styled it every morning, but it consisted of crimped waves of chocolatey locks due to the late hour. Somehow, he liked that even more… It made her look so natural, so raw, so beautiful. 

Without another word, his face drifted down over her own to plant a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. Olette angled her face to respond to him, and as a little of her lip gloss smeared across his mouth, he could vaguely discern the sweet taste of cherries. Point one for lip gloss at 3 a.m. 

Hayner held the kiss for a minute before pulling back, but only just. As her eyes fluttered open to peer up at him adoringly, he smirked playfully. “I guess it’s just a little unnecessary to say that I like you, Olette.” 

She giggled, holding her hand up to her mouth just like she always did, and he swore that he fell even more in love with her only from that. 

“Yes, but a girl likes to hear it anyway.” Her green eyes sparkled up at him like sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of leaves. “Feel better?” 

“Loads.” Just from talking to her, he felt like a great weight dropped off his shoulders. Suddenly, a large yawn split his face, and he rubbed his eyes at a sudden onset of drowsiness. He felt like he could fall asleep on the spot. 

Olette giggled again before asking, “Care to walk a girl home?” He nodded in agreement and Olette grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging him out of the secret base. As the chill wind greeted them, she pressed her body against his, and they set off together in the deep of night with the moon and stars as their only company. Hayner really wasn’t sure how he got from point A to B, because his memory faded very quickly after their leaving. 

The only reason he knew that it wasn’t a dream was the faint lingering taste of cherry lip gloss on his lips in the morning. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[kris10tisme]

Social Anxiety Origin Story

Social Anxiety is classified as a disorder. Isn’t that crazy!? You can actually read up on it on the MayoClinic or Webmd websites which shows that it really is a legitimate thing; it's not just you being a pussy. Most people who have social anxiety disorder don’t know what it is or why they’re like this. When we first become aware of our incomprehensible phobia we usually feel completely alien. People with this ailment tend to feel like the ultimate freaks, which knocks down their self esteem tenfold. If you have desperately searched online to potentially find answers: I feel you. The first time I felt a sense of belonging in this world was browsing through internet forums, reading about how people had the same irrational fears I did. You can find comfort in it sure, but it's definitely not the same as finding belonging in person. I didn’t know that I wasn’t completely alone in this struggle until I was maybe fifteen or sixteen years old navigating through my insufferable high school life!  During that time google searches quickly became my best friend.

I can’t even really pinpoint where my SAD began for me. As a child I was pretty shy but I’d eventually open up once I became semi-comfortable. I didn’t ruminate whether or not I made some sort of fool of myself publicly. I was just having a blast man. Childhood is all fun and games but you really do get the carpet ripped out from under you when you enter adolescence.

 I grew up a very privileged child financially - my parents both being middle class. My bills were all taken care of, and I didn't have to worry too much about the connections I would make with others in life. I was a kid. When a kid has no friends it's sad, but when an adult has no friends you wonder what they did wrong and you try to steer clear of them. There must be a reason why they are friendless: they must fetishize feet in their spare time! When you’re a child your only occupation is being a student. I’d wake up, go to school, learn stuff, socialize a bit among peers and then go home to watch TV and repeat, not questioning or overthinking the minutiae or idiosyncrasies in my life; just living day by day. Everything was smooth sailing. I figured I would hit my peak as a teenager and do all the cool teenagery things I saw on television like going to parties, making the cheerleading squad (though I’m not athletic at all; it would just happen), and have a tumultuous relationship with several boys. I’d pick the most special one to lose my virginity to on prom night! Then college would come, I’d go there and graduate and get a job. Sounds simple right!?

WRONG!

Hitting puberty was a big eye opener for me. It’s like once I menstruated my self-esteem plummeted. Everything about life just seemed a lot more competitive. There are all these milestones that society expects you to complete by certain ages: your first beer, your first kiss, your first fornication, your first job. All terrible and unfamiliar things! Now that I had bled and grown boobs, I was in the process of becoming a woman. I had to start making preparations to accomplish these milestones.

Seventh grade was the first year of my life I was depressed, and that terrible feeling hasn’t really depleted all that much since. In sixth grade I felt like a rock star… until the end of the year. I was a downright bully, mocking people in my class for the way they looked and acted. Some of my classmates found me funny, and I liked feeling that bold. I liked knowing that people were on the edge of their seats waiting for me to comment on a situation. It wasn’t until the end of the school year when one of the girls I heavily bullied called me out on my malicious means of garnering attention from my peers. She didn’t even insult me, she just spat out the truth. “You’re mean KRISTEN! You’re a BULLY!”

I can’t even explain how thrown off I felt by that mere observation. I never questioned why I did what I did; I liked the attention. I liked being someone people would be eager to hear from to know my latest outrageous comments on what surrounds us. Hearing this girl call me out for being a mean bully was a gut punch like no other. I couldn’t believe my ears. To me this girl wasn’t a person; she was a vessel. Someone to make fun of. Someone who was an easy target because she had a whole line of insults thrown her way since even before I saw her as easy prey.

No one ever downright called me out on my behavior. My dad did tell my mom that I was a horrible daughter, and he even asked who would want to have a daughter like me. But that was mostly because I was disrespectful towards him. Such a justified comment for a parent to make about his adolescent daughter right in front of her :)

That summer break I had tons of time to reflect upon my actions. I recognized how downright awful I had been to a lot of my classmates and vowed to make amends in the coming school year. I want to say, most of the bullying took place before I began menstruating, so you can blame my abhorrent behavior on my lack of emotional resonance and the fact that my womanly empathy and sympathy had not yet kicked in. That’s how I excuse how I acted.

So by seventh grade I was menstruating, and I grew D cup breasts overnight. I became a stand-up person - someone who didn’t throw vulnerable people under the bus for my own benefit. I became what you would call... “compassionate.”

Seventh grade was the year everything went downhill for me. Maybe it was the hormones kicking in and getting the better of me, or maybe it was me becoming more aware of what society deems as acceptable and proper. I felt like I should be cultivating a role in society, and I didn’t know what role to take.  I couldn’t be loud and obnoxious anymore because my victims were starting to bite back and I realized the biting back hurt me more than I could handle.

For the rest of Junior High I struggled with my transitioning into a new person. My classmates instantly recognized how much softer and kind-hearted I became. I didn’t throw around as many insults, and if I did it was just playful banter.  Me and the girl I had so savagely bullied were on decent terms, though we never really interacted with one another except for when obligatory social protocol called for it. I struggled with finding my niche again within my class. I got along with people just fine, but I suffered through a big identity crisis: I didn’t know what I could contribute without being outwardly obnoxious. I didn’t know what stereotypical personality trait defined me. Things got a bit more fucked at home for me, so that really took a toll on me mentally. I’ll get into how family influences your socialization tendencies in another post.

I’ve never wanted anything more in life other than to be liked. I know they say that not everyone’s gonna like you and that you should accept that, but I can’t! I just can’t accept it! The only way I will accept someone not liking me is if they’re completely indifferent to me, like when I have not done anything to them or in front of them to warrant them having an opinion on my character. So I keep my mouth shut. BUT THEN… I worry about what a weirdo they must think I am. If I’m too quiet then I give people the opportunity to make assumptions about me based on the impressions they have on me. They can be thinking anything, like that I watch tentacle porn, or that I collect toenail clippings or something.

I wonder if keeping my mouth shut all these years has done me more harm than good emotionally. Speaking up opens you up for attack, and I always feel like I have to be on the defensive. But when you say nothing to anyone, are you really living your life to the fullest and taking advantage of opportunities that could benefit you?

Meeting someone and getting to know them feels kind of like a step by step interrogation for me. The worst question I always get is, “What do you do?” Which I assume means “what do you do for a living?” Another one is,“Do you have a boyfriend?” It seems to me that the general public believes having a solid and steady job and being in some sort of romantic relationship completes the prerequisites for having a satisfactory life. Do these people even consider that you may be unemployed AND single? And that they’re unintentionally making you feel shitty about yourself? Just keep the convo focused on the weather for god sake. 

I started this blog to vent about my feelings. I have been journaling a lot recently to blow off some steam because it's uncomfortable to complain about this stuff in real life. Only people on the internet can understand certain problems. I don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but I feel like social anxiety is an underrepresented disease in mainstream media. It’s embarrassing to tell people that you are anxious for your next family gathering because you don’t know if you should greet someone with a kiss on their cheek if they’re sitting down. Do I just bend down!? Should they stand up? Am I being too forward, or are they gonna be offended if I don’t make a move to embrace them? That's a whole ordeal for me. It's not what people call a “real problem” but this is the shit I think about while I lie in bed at night. So if shit similar to that wanders through your mind when you contemplate the world, maybe you can find some sort of catharsis through this blog. We may not have a very mainstream disease, but at least we’ve got each other to relate to. We’re people who find solace in reading about similar experiences we’ve experienced online. 

 Just thinking back on the fact that what jump started my anxiety issue was a small little comment made by someone whose life I made torturous. I don’t place the blame on this girl, as I just enabled her to pull the trigger on some deeper rooted issues I bore. Although it is quite the struggle I am glad that the nastier person I was eventually transformed into a more compassionate one. I never got to formally apologize to that girl. I hope I didn’t leave a big lasting impression on her. I was really shitty to her. I would reach out to her through social media and apologize, but I’ve got way too much social anxiety for that!

Well now that we’ve covered my origin story I would love to hear about all of yours. I will continue to write about various social situations or predicaments that freak me out, as well as stuff I’ve been through at home and in high school and how I’ve evolved and haven’t evolved. I don’t want this blog to be filled with negativity. Hopefully it's self-effacing in a not too depressing way. If it’s too depressing please let me know. I don’t want to spread the feeling of hopelessness with this blog. I want people to find comfort and humor, and maybe we can come up with some potential resolutions for certain scenarios and give each other tips. If there are any readers out there, thanks for reading. I hope this in some way made you smile and feel like less of an outcast. Keep trooping on! You’re not alone :)