#oh how i love dark fairy tales...........

[jo-com]

Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 Smut. Thank you so much ❤️

₊˚⊹♡ ➛ le mien

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Summary: Part 2 of Mine

Genre: DARK fic.

Word: 2.03k words

TW: baby trapping, p and c penetration, possessiveness, jealousy, branding, manipulation, obsessive behavior, bit angsty, corruption, brainwashing, wrap it before you tap it folks and overall messed up shit. This is not proofread and there are some grammatical error also google translated french. if uncomfortable minors do not interact!!

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Y/username Happy 4th Anniversary Mon amour!

Charles_Leclerc i love you so much darling!

Y/username i love you more💋💋💋

Carlossainz55 Stay strong guys!

User1 Cutest Couple ever🙈

User2 JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY

User3 Agreed😍

Y/bff The cutest fr

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…

Despite all the love you share on social media, nothing can compare to the real truth that exists beyond the internet.

People don't see the things he does behind closed doors—all those emotional abuse, obsessive behavior, and possessiveness. Never, even once, do people know that it's happening between the two of you.

All they know is the sweet words you guys share in each other's posts and the way you act whenever there are people around you two—all sweet and loving like one of those fairy tale romances you read. But behind all that, they don't see how hurt you are mentally. It was happening constantly, and you were so used to it that you became numb and just succumbed to the growing pain you feel inside. 

To the point where you act like his puppet—doing everything that pleases him, and acting the way he wants you to.

You never once complained, thinking that it was just how love goes.

You were a fool. A fool blinded by "love".

...

"Hey y/n/n, are you alright? Me and mom have been worried about you; you haven't been going to our usual family gathering." your sister asked over the phone.

It was true; you haven't been going to those gatherings for a while now, only because Charles said, "It's not safe to go outside," and of course, like the sweet girlfriend doll you were, you followed his words.

You stared blankly, your mind wandering off. You tend to get lost in thoughts nowadays, and you're not sure why. Maybe it's from the stress you've been feeling, but you just brushed it off like it was nothing.

"Yeah, I am good. I've just been busy lately, you know? Keeping the house safe and everything," you chuckled dryly. 

"You know I can tell when there's something wrong, right? So just tell me."

Before you could answer, Charles walked into the room. With one hand holding Leo, he was snuggled up nice and cozy in his embrace. His eyes roamed around the room searching for you; his gaze then fell prey on your meek figure—you sat there holding the phone in one hand while the other rested on the softly fabricated couch. You looked angelic, as if untouched by any form of evil. 

Then again, Charles wasn't just any form of evil; he was the reincarnation of the devil himself, and he wanted nothing more than to corrupt your innocence.

With a soft smile, Charles walked to where you sat, sitting beside you and settling leo down on his lap. 

"Who are you talking to poupée (doll)?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, just my sister; we were just catching up on things." You muttered, your voice quivering slightly; you don't know whether you were scared or just have some sore throat that made your voice crack.

Charles looked at you in disbelief, his eyes narrowing with skepticism, and simply turned his attention back at Leo. "Hang up the phone," he said bluntly, not even sparing you a glance.

"But baby, we were just talking." You tried to argue with him, telling him that you just wanted to chat with your sister, but as usual, he blocked your words of plea and glared at you—he always does that, looking at you as if he were judging your whole soul.

His eyes have always been your weakness; they both scare and pleasure you at the same time. Charles knows that, and he uses it to his advantage every time.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy; you could feel it weighing down and crushing your spirit.

Sighing defeatedly, you had no choice but to end the call with your sister and not further complicate things.

"Hey, uhm, sis, I'll just call you back, okay? Something just came up."

You didn't even let your sister respond before hanging up the call. Charles hummed contentedly and patted the seat next to him. At that very moment, you felt angry with him, but you knew that you couldn't do anything about it, so you sucked it up and sat beside him. Leaning close to his embrace.

"Bonne fille, ma chérie (good girl, my darling)," he mumbbled softly, kissing the roof of your head.

...

Charles gripped your waist tightly, his jaws clenched, and hands balled up to a fist. He half-ass smiled at the man, trying to compose himself—fighting back the urges to beat the shit out of the guy in front of them.

He saw the way he looked at you; his eyes scanned each and every part of your body like you were some kind of art on display. fucking disgusting. 

You, on the other hand, held on to him, almost ripping the fabric of his clothes with your tight grip. You paid no mind to the guy he was talking to and just stared at the bustling room; in there, people were having fun, dancing, and drinking with others. 

At that moment, you didn't care about Charles or who he was conversing with; all you wanted was to spring free from his embrace and just party wild with others. Was that too much to ask for?

For him, it was. If it was legal, he wanted nothing more than to lock you up and live the rest of your lives together. So, having that idea was just wishful thinking—it never hurts to dream, though. 

"I'll see you around, yeah?" The man asked, earning a subtle nod from Charles as an acknowledgment.

"Quel putain de cinglé (what a fucking weirdo)," he mumbled under his breath, his accent making the words sound more spiteful and venomous.

You didn't hear him say that. You were too busy to admire people's enjoyment and bask in the laughter and smiles that surround you. How could people be as care free like that? The ache on your heart only grows fonder. Oh, how you wish you could do the same. 

With your head up in the clouds, you didn't seem to notice the angry monegasque that stood beside you, cursing you in any language he knew. The next thing you felt was a harsh sting that rested on your jaw.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I've been trying to talk to you! What are you even looking at? Are you cheating on me, Chienne (Bitch)?" he yelled, not even caring anymore if people heard him.

Your breath hitches, eyes widening, and heart racing fast.

His hands were now on your jaws, gripping them with sheer strength. You didn't know what was going on or why this was  happening to you. You were always so nice and never did anything to cause harm, so why?

All those questions in your mind made your vision go blurry and your head spin, causing you to black out on the spot.

...

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache and only bits of memories of what happened that night. "Ouch," you winced, massaging your head to try and ease the pain. 

As if on cue, Charles walked in with medicine on his left hand and a glass of water on the right. 

His face lit up, seeing that you were now awake. He softly smiled and walked towards your shared bed. The matress dipped down as he sat next to your sitting body.

"Are you feeling better, mon amour?" he asked. His hand was about to stroke your cheeks, but out of reflex, your body flinched at his sudden movement. 

That made Charles frown. You know how bipolar his mood has been; that's why you've been extra careful not to ruin it. You were expecting him to be mad, but what happened was the opposite. He only sighed deeply and lowered his head. 

"I am sorry, Mon cœur." Your being shocked was an understatement; in fact, you were flabergasted at his words. You never knew that hearing him say that would make you want to tear up.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I know you didn't mean for it to happen," you assured him, and rubbed circles around his arm. 

And just like that, Charles once again got you wrapped around his finger. You were way too easy to convince and so naive that you'd fall for anything he said.

He slowly lift up his head and gave you a light smile.

You then melted at his expression, it was silly of you to think that a face like that could ever harm you. he would never do that.

...

"Fuck, Charlie, put it in already, please," you begged, your eyes watering from the overstimulation. His hands gripped your waist tighter—muscles flexing in the process. 

"You're so needy for my cock, mon amour," he breathes out. 

The two of you have been at it for half an hour now, both out of breath and with marks made by one another. Your bodies were sticky with each other's bodily fluids, but you guys paid no mind to that. Only focusing on reaching the pleasure you both wanted so badly.

Without wasting a second, Charles huridly inserted his dick into your aching core. Your eyes widened from the sudden sensation between your thighs; you could feel how he was stretching you, and the need for him to satisfy you only increased. 

"Move, please" you said, your voice quivering and hands scratching his back to let out some of the pain.

Your legs instantly rested on his lower hip, wanting to keep him as close to you as possible. You don't know why you're acting like that, but you suddenly got the urge to mount him and fuck him till dawn. 

"Shit baby, you're always so tight," he chuckled, his left hand settled in the headboard while his right hand played with the nub of your tits.

His hips clashed with yours, making the two of you a moaning mess. Charles then dove down to your breast and licked it, biting and teasing them. He made sure to leave plenty of marks. 

"Oh god, i..i am about to come," you gasped, your toes curling from the rush of adrenaline coursing through you. 

"Just come for me, baby," he said, continuously pounding into you, your flesh crashing at each other and making a loud, smacking sound.

His hand then snaked up to hold onto your ankles, lifting it up. Shifting his dick into a deeper position.

With the new found position, your vision started to go blur; now only seeing nothing but stars. Your mind then turns hazy, and hands gripping tightly on the duvet sheet that scattered on the bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" was the only thing you said before collapsing on the matress, your body convulsing with pleasure as your juices slowly fall down your flush tighs.

"Damn, all that for me, ma chérie?" Charles laughed, licking his lower lip at how ravishing you look; fucked out and cockdumb for him.

He continued to rut his hips to your overstimulated cunt. "Fuck, Je veux mettre un bébé en toi (i want to put a baby inside you)" he mumbled, not minding your state and carried on fucking you into an oblivion.

"I'ma fill you with my cum, make you a mama and the fill you up again....fuck" he rambled, his hips never stoping, not until he reach his high.

And after a few more thrust, he finally came inside of you— his eyes rolling in the back of his head with satisfaction. He continued to rut into you; not wanting to spill his cum and then coating your walls with his white seed.

You were sure to get pregnant by that and after that, you two are going to be tied forever, just like he planned.

...

yeah that was pure filth, hope you guys like it though! My requests are always open.

[alicenpai]

the girl from the other side ✨ this series gave me hope a million times but simultaneously shattered my heart into the same amount of pieces </3 (flower symbolism under cut)

sticker sheet for anime north 🍀🥧🖤🤍

SPOILERS AHEAD

forget me not - obvious reference to the Black Children and how they eventually forget who they are as they near the end of their "life cycle".

white clover (in coffin) - white clovers typically symbolize innocence.

4 leaf clover - like I wrote in a previous post on my Witch Hat Atelier seasons piece, the 4 leaf clover symbolizes luck and good fortune. Like Coco, Shiva to her loved ones is a symbol of fortune, though to the Inside Kingdom, a symbol of misfortune.

sunflower - typically symbolize strength and warmth, a fitting flower for Shiva, the light illuminating Teacher's dark past.

nasturtium - another flower symbolizing strength, and has strong ties to the "victory" after battle. apparently soldiers used to don them as a sign of a long battle won. fun fact they are also edible (don't take my post for nutritional advice please) (ill probably write a bit more on this topic when my head is more clear)

[dotster001]

Waking Him up with a Kiss

Summary: Malleus/Silver/Jamil x Gn!Reader. You wake your lover up with a kiss.

Requested by an anon. Fuck you, Tumblr.

CW: Jamil is kinda sus but I wouldn't be doing him justice if he wasn't.

Also! Always get consent from your partner before kissing them in their sleep! That's a cool kid thing to do!

He'd been hinting at this for a while now. All his life, Lilia had regaled him with fairy tales where the sleeping prince or princess was woken with true love's kiss. Malleus had always been a hopeless romantic, and, damn, did he want that!

He'd left the books out when he slept over. He made sure that if he knew you would come looking for him, he'd nap on his back. He sighs dreamily (and loudly) whenever he rereads those fairytales next to you. He waxes on and on about how romantic being awoken with a kiss is. He knows he's dense. But he thinks you're worse.

Lilia giggles and says to be patient, Silver says to just tell you what he wants, and Sebek says to just banish you for the treason of making him sad. He decides that Lilia has never steered him wrong before, so he decides to be patient.

And one day it happens. He's dreaming of you, walking through a meadow, hand in hand. You turn to him, your radiant smile glowing brighter than the sun of his dreams. You press your lips to his, gentle as a cloud, and it feels so real that he doesn't want to wake up.

But he does, and he moans a little as he regrets losing the dream world. But the feeling of your lips doesn't fade. Light as a cloud, gentle as a dove, a feeling that makes him feel so full inside he thinks he'll burst.

His eyes flutter open, and there you are, on your knees in the grass, smiling softly as you push one of his dark bangs away from his eyes. He smiles sleepily, putting together that his dream came true.

“Now that you've given me a taste, I hope you know that I am insatiable,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. You giggled, as though you thought he was joking.

Oh, you sweet little human.

He is not joking.

He has told you this on many occasions. If you are hanging out, and he falls asleep, do whatever you need to to wake him up. He originally tried to be chill about it, but eventually he let on just how much it distressed him when he missed time with you. He didn't want to miss out on any time with you. Yes, it was partially for you. But if he was honest, it was mostly for him. It hurt his chest to think about losing time with someone he loved. Being around the fae taught him every moment mattered.

Usually, you try everything. You shake him, you steal his pillow, you bang a pot, you set three alarms to go off at the same time. But today, you tried something different.

Silver blinked his eyes open, only to be met by your uncertain ones staring back at him, your face hovering a few inches above his.

He gently lifted a hand to his lips, the ghost of your kiss lingering. He may not have been fully awake for it, but he knows it happened.

His mind was immediately transported to a moment in his youth. He was sitting by his father, sniffling sadly because he fell asleep during Lilia's birthday party. 

“Ah, my sweet son,” Lilia said with a warm smile, gently nuzzling his cheek against Silver's. “I know it's not your fault. Even doctors have told you you can't help it. I am not upset at all.”

“But it's your birthday,” Silver sniffled. “I feel like I must be cursed.”

Lilia's eyes widened in understanding.

“That must be it!” He said excitedly. He ran to the nearby bookshelf and pulled off a book, before nodding sagely.

“Yes, that must be it, look,” he flipped to a page in the story, pointing to a picture of a sleeping princess being kissed awake by a knight in shining armor. “I know this curse! When you find true love, perhaps their kiss will save you!”

Silver excitedly nodded at the picture, his eyes wide.

Lilia snapped the book shut, authoritatively. “But until then, I don't want you to be sad when you fall asleep. Your hero will save you one day. And they might be sad that they took a long time to save you. So if you are less hard on yourself, it might help them feel better. Promise?”

Silver nodded happily.

Lilia is a menace, filling his son's heads with fairytales. /Affectionate

In the present, Silver smiled softly.

“Did you kiss me awake?”

“Sorry, I know I should have asked, but I figured when you said wake me up however I can-”

“That's correct. I could have said it plainly, but this is definitely what I pictured when I said that. But in case you need me to verbally say it, yes, please continue to wake me up like this. I think I will wake up every single time.”

You smiled at him, still hovering over him, making him long for your kiss again.

“You know, I wasn't awake for the last one. Would you please kiss me again?”

You giggled, then leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

“I feel like I need more ways to show my love for you,” you said thoughtfully. Jamil sat next to you on your bed in Ramshackle, reading over your report, and checking for mistakes.

“And what makes you say that?” He hummed in amusement.

“Seriously? You do everything for me! And I'm just kinda here!”

“I'm perfectly satisfied with that. In fact, I'd rather do all the hard stuff so that you have the energy to shower me in affection when I'm done,” he snickered to himself. If anything, a small selfish part of him liked the idea of you feeling like you had something to prove. It made you a very physically affectionate lover to “make up for it”. And while he was easily flustered, he very much liked the gentle caresses, warm embraces, and hungry kisses you gave him.

“Tell you what,” he hummed, handing you back the marked up report. It would take you hours to make the corrections. He loved you, but you were at a disadvantage when it came to college courses in the laws of magic. “I'm going to take a nap. When you finish, I'd really feel loved if you kissed me awake.”

He laid down, resting an arm over his eyes. 

“You could just stay the night if you're that tired,” you said in that tone of voice that only came when you were pouting.

“Can't. Kalim has a test tomorrow, and I need to make sure he wakes up for it.”

You grumbled something, but he was already out cold.

He felt…warm. He softly sighed, as he felt your kiss deepen. Still not opening his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your neck, and continued sleepily kissing you. Yeah. This is the life he wanted. To be rewarded for his hard work with your affection.

He finally opened his eyes with a scowl when you pulled away.

“I didn't say to stop. This is about expressing your love, right?” He snickered.

You pouted. “I miss when every single thing would fluster you.”

He scowled and stood up, stretching away the sleepiness as he prepared for his trek back to his dorm.

“I don't.”

You smiled sweetly, then reached out for his hair.

“Luckily,  I can still make you all blushy when I play with your hair.”

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @pikeru565

“Good night love,” he scowled as he stormed out of the room.

....

[cb97breathing]

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab! Reader

Theme: Fluff, smut, breeding kink, rough sex, creampie. 18+ NO MINORS.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Please do not repost or translate my work!

“I’m going to throw up.” You whispered quietly to your best friend as you paced the spare room in a panic. Your best friend couldn’t help but look at you in amusement.

“No you’re not, love, the second you see him down that aisle your nerves are going to all fade away and you know it. We’ve all known you and Chan were meant to be since we were kids y/n. Don’t get cold feet now.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking in the wedding gown and nervously covered your stomach and sides with your arms. “Oh no, don’t you dare get those thoughts right now. Do you not see how stunning you look?” Your friend gently took your hand and pulled you from the mirror. “Chan is going to be on the floor when he sees you, everyone bet 100 bucks that he is gonna cry. The only one who didn’t think he would was Jisung.” You snorted at that. The door opened and you saw Hannah walk in.

Hannah’s eyes widened at the sight of you and for a moment she couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“Who knew that the little hermit who always hides in her room could look so pretty?” She teased softly as she came in. “I knew you were going to be panicking, I wanted to check on you.” She said softly. “Chan won’t stop pacing, he’s just as nervous.” You bit your lip and looked down. “Hey now, don’t you dare. I know what’s going on in that head of yours.” She said softly as she rubbed your back.

“Come on, it’s almost time. You can do this.” She said softly as she handed you your bouquet. You let out a shaky breath and nodded to her. She smiled and walked out to get ready. “Let’s go.” She lent out her arm to you. You gently linked your arm with hers and walked out with her, your best friend in toe. You saw the guys in suits talking and your friends all looking stunning in their dark plum dresses. They all stopped what they were doing when they saw you and stared in awe. Their staring only made you more nervous and Minho couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction.

“Holy…” Jisung breathed out. “Can I back out of the bet? Cause Chan is definitely going to cry.” The rest of the guys laughed and shook their heads as you playfully glared at him with a small smile. “You look beautiful. He’s going to faint honestly.”

“He actually might. Not going to lie.” Felix added with a grin. “You look like a princess.”

“More like a goddess. Let’s be real.” Hyunjin added softly. “Where did that little tom boy who used to run around with us go?”

“Okay guys stop gawking and go to your seats!” Your mother teased as she approached you. “It’s time for y/n to make her entrance.” They all wished you luck before leaving and taking their seats. Your mom looked at you softly. “You look so beautiful honey.” She said softly. “I wish your father could see you. He’d be so proud and happy.” You tried to hold back your tears and smiled softly at her. “I’ll see you out there love.” She kissed your cheek gently before going out to where the others were. You slowly approached the doors, your heart pounded and your body trembled as you gripped your bouquet of white roses and lilac. As the doors slowly opened, revealing you to all the guests, your eyes immediately locked with a pair of warm chocolate brown ones that took your breath away all those years ago.

Time stopped as you and Chan stared at each other. This was real, it was finally happening, after all these years of dreaming of being his forever you were about to walk down the aisle and become his wife. You couldn’t help but stare at him adoringly as he looked at you in awe. You could see the tears forming in his eyes as his beautiful plump lips trembled at the sight of you. You yourself had to keep your composure at the sight of him, he looked stunning, like a prince out of a fairy tale. Your feet began to move on their own as the music started. Your heart guiding you to him as the rest of the world faded away, all you could see was him. Your best friend was right, the moment you saw him any fear you had was gone. Everyone around you was watching you both with giant smiles on their faces. The boys and your girlfriends tried their best to keep tears from falling down their cheeks as well.

You looked over and smiled at Chan’s parents who were also in tears before finally stopping right in front of Chan. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping your cheek in his hand gently. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into his touch.

“So beautiful.” He whispered softly. “I love you.” Your heart fluttered at his words and you looked up at him softly.

“I love you, handsome.” You replied softly as you took his hand gently, letting him lead you to the officiant. The rest of the wedding was a blur, as you and Chan just stared at each other with nothing but pure love in each other’s eyes. Soon you exchanged your silver bands as you both exchanged your vows. Declaring your undying love for the world to see.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Chan didn’t waste time, he pulled you in until you were flush against him and kissed you so passionately your knees almost gave out. You could hear the guys cheering and whistling as everyone else cheered, but all you could focus on was him. He pulled away only slightly to press his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other gently.

“I love you Mrs. Bahng.” He whispered softly as he caressed your cheek. A breathtaking smile spread across his face as you kissed his nose. Tears flew down your cheeks as you giggled softly.

“I love you more, Mr. Bahng.”

The reception was lively thanks to your friends and the boys. They all had a blast while you and Chan were in your own little world. Pretty much ignoring everyone around you. Chan never let you leave his arms, afraid that if he does then he’d wake up and it’s all been a dream. His face buried in your neck as he held you tightly from behind, making you giggle as everyone cooed at the both of you. You were both ready to leave and just be alone.

Soon the reception was over and Chan was leading you to the huge suite they had reserved for you both for the night. When you entered it your eyes widened and you stopped in your tracks, there were dozens of white roses everywhere, and candles lit. It looked so beautiful. You looked around in awe as you felt Chan grab your hips gently. He pulled you close so you were against his chest and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing.

“You’re finally all mine.” He whispered softly as he buried his face in your neck. “Mrs Bahng.” He kissed your neck and nipped at it softly. You trembled at the feeling as your eyes fluttered closed. “My beautiful wife.” Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You turned to him and pulled him close, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

“I love you.” You whispered into his lips. He grinned and picked you up in his arms, making you squeal as he carried you to the bedroom. He set you down gently in front of the bed and looked at you softly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. “I love you more than anything in this world.” He caressed your cheek. You gently took the same hand and pressed your lips to it gently before leading it to the back of your gown. His fingers grazed the zipper as his eyes asked gently for permission. You replied by kissing him deeply. He melted into you and kissed back as he slowly unzipped your wedding gown. You felt it drop to the floor in one movement, leaving you in white laced lingerie. Chan pulled away to look at you and growled softly at the sight. “Fuck, y/n.” He whispered as his hands explored your body. You whimpered softly at the feeling of his hands gently gripping your thick hips and pulling you closer to him.

“I need you.” You breathed out. “Please.” His lips found yours again. This time the kiss was hungry and full of need. Your pushed off his blazer and began to unbutton his shirt quickly. Chan pulled it off once you were done. Soon you were the only one still partially clothed as he gently laid you down on the bed. Both of your hearts were beating erratically as you looked into each other's eyes. This wasn’t the first time you made love to each other. But now that you were finally married it made it feel even more special. You reached up and caressed his cheek gently as tears flew down your cheeks. “I love you so much.” He gently grabbed your hand and kissed your wrist before looking at you softly.

“I love you.” He whispered as his hands ran up your thick thighs. “Have loved you all my life and will love you til the end of it. Even after. In every life, I will find you and I will love you.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply. His words only electrified you and made you need him more. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed down your neck, nipping and sucking at every area, not caring how many marks he left. You were his and the world knew. As he continued to mark you his hand reached for your lace corset and slowly pulled it down enough to free your breasts from it. “You were made just for me, and I you.” He whispered as he kissed across your chest. You let out a mewl as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple.

“Channie.” You whimpered as you rocked your hips into him. His hand wandered between your legs and brushed against your wet clothed core. “Please, please please.” You cried softly. He grinned into your breast as he finally slipped his hands into your panties. His fingers rubbed your clit at a wild pace, wanting you to get loud. You moaned out and arched off the bed as he continued to nip and suck at your nipple.

“Be a good girl and let your husband show you how much he loves you.” He whispered into your skin as he kissed down your stomach. You mewled at Chan’s words like a cat in heat and your face flushed deeply. He pulled your panties off quickly and spread your legs wide. The sight before him, of you sprawled out, breasts on display, your eyes dazed, hair all messed up behind you, triggered something primal in him. He pumped his cock a few times before pressing his tip at your entrance. “Look at me.” He ordered softly. You quickly obeyed as your eyes locked with his. “Don’t ever stop looking into my eyes.” Your eyes widened and you let out a gasp as you felt him enter you. His size always made you shiver in the best of ways. He groaned out loudly as he bottomed out inside of you.

He laid flush against you, your bodies pressed together like two missing pieces of a puzzle. He pressed his lips to yours in a slow kiss as he began to roll into you. You gasped and whined into his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers linked with yours, your silver bands glistened against the candle light as he nipped at your lips. He pulled away to look deep in your eyes, filled with so much love and wanting it made your heart skip a beat. You both continued to stare at each other, panting softly as he rolled deep into you, hitting spots that made your body shake. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him hit that special spot within you, which caused you to clench around him. He groaned and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I will never get over how you feel, you’re so perfect.” He whispered into your lips. “My beautiful, perfect wife.” He moaned and rocked harder into you, making you whine loudly. “That’s it beautiful, I want everyone to hear you. I want everyone to know you’re mine forever.”

“Y-Yours, all yours.” You whimpered out. “I love you, Channie. I l-love you so much.” You cried as you rolled your hips to meet his. He growled softly and his arms wrapped around your thighs pushing them as far up as they could go. You cried loudly as he hit deep within you, over and over and over again.

“Gonna fill you up love, gonna breed you.” He growled. “Want you to have my baby so bad. Wanted that for so long.” You flushed deeply and clenched at his words. “You want that don’t you? You want me to breed you nice and good?” You whined and nodded, not able to form words because all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock inside you. His thrusts became rougher and quicker, and you couldn’t stop the screams of ecstasy from leaving your lips.

“P-please.” You begged in a sob. He pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss as his cock moved in and out of you at a rapid pace. You were close, you could feel it as you trembled beneath him. He gripped your thighs tightly as you began to shake.

“That’s it my love, cum for me.” He moaned softly as he looked deep into your eyes. “Keep your eyes on me as you let go.” Your eyes never left his, as if he had complete control of your body. You screamed out as you felt yourself hit your peak. He watched you as you came apart beneath him and moaned loudly, his release hitting soon after. He spilled all his seed into you with a few rough thrusts before he laid flush against you. He buried his face in your neck as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Both of you stayed there, him still inside you, wanting to stay connected and not let any drop of cum go to waste. You pressed your lips to his forehead as you held him tight, whimpering softly as you came down from your high.

“I love you so much.” He panted out softly. “My everything.” You teared at his words and pulled him closer to you.

“I love you.” You both eventually fell asleep like that, completely entangled in each other, never wanting to let go.

In the morning you woke up with a gasp, feeling him hard and moving inside of you. His plump lips pressed against your neck. You whined as you clung to him, shuddering at the feeling.

"C-Channie." You cried softly as you felt his cock hit deep into you, your toes curled as you wrapped your legs around him. "O-oh my god." He smirked into your skin and nipped at the marks he left hours before.

"Couldn't help it." He whispered. "Not when I woke up to the most beautiful woman in the world." He kissed your neck and you clung to him. "Wanna make you cum so many times, wanna fill you with so much cum." You moaned loudly and rocked into him.

"Don't stop." You begged. "Fuck me over and over." He growled at your words and pulled out making you whine in despair. But he slammed back into you in seconds making you cry out.

"Gonna be my good girl, gonna take my cock." You mewled as he pounded into you and arched your back. "That's it beautiful, always so good for me."

"A-Always." You cried. "Fuck!" You were already close and shaking as he reached between to rub your clit wildly.

"Cum for me y/n." He growled out. "Let go on my cock." Your eyes rolled back as you came hard on him, but his thrusts never relented, his cock continued to reach deep and hit your spot over and over as he ravished you. Your whole body shook as you went limp beneath him. You became a sobbing and babbling mess for him. You could feel yourself getting close again and quickly. You cried out his name as he grinned. "That's it baby girl, give me another one." You opened your mouth to cry out, but nothing came, you were overwhelmed as your second orgasm hit you harder than the last. Your legs shook violently as you writhed beneath him. The sight making Chan lose all control. He buried his face in your neck and pounded relentlessly into you, whispering sweet words of love and praise to you as he completely ruined you.

"Give me one more, I know you can. One more beautiful." You sobbed out as he let one more thrust deep inside of you, sending you both over the edge. He held you tightly to him as he filled you up, spilling his hot white seed inside of you once more. He kissed your skin gently as he held your trembling body tightly to him. You whimpered and clung to him and whined as you felt him pull out of you.

"Good morning my love." He whispered softly.

"P-Please wake me up like that every day." You breathed out making him giggle into your skin.

"Oh don't worry Mrs. Bahng, I will." He pressed his lips to your forehead. "I'll show you everyday how much I love you for the rest of our lives."

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[lunargrapejuice]

hello lovely luna !! i hope life has been treating you well, i’ve been missing u ♥️

for the prompt game, can i request “you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” with my beloved diluc? i’ve been struggling with insomnia n i just want diluc to put me to sleep ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

oh my whole heart was poured into this one i'm aching. i did not mean for it to this long but what can i do he has my heart and soul🩷 i hope you like it awea! i love n miss you too🥺💕

🌙 prompt event

“you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” | diluc x reader with no pronouns used

the winery at night is blanketed in the ethereal silver glow of the moon this time of night. it feels like something out of a fairy tale with the thick grape vines lining the path you walk, sparkling crystal flies silent in the flutter of their wings, and if you look hard enough even in the moonlight you can see the plump purple grapes. 

it’s cool in a way that feels wonderful against your heated skin but not enough to make you cold and with each breath you take, you try to let the fresh air ease your mind that just won’t stop moving and thinking no matter how much you will it to. you honestly aren’t sure if being out here is working but it feels nice, peaceful and you’re glad to not be tossing and turning in bed while your beloved tries to sleep next to you.

you didn’t want to wake diluc, not when you knew how desperately he needed the sleep despite the fact you’re sure he would tell you he’s doing just fine on the little he does get. it wouldn’t stop you from doing your best to try to get tired all on your own before slipping back into bed, looking after him in this way. 

but it was as if he felt the distance between you growing even in his dreams. his tired arm reaches for you on your side of the bed, needing to pull you closer to him before he could settle once again and when he’s met with cooling sheets barely clinging with your warmth, he’s instantly awake, ruby eyes blinking away tiredness and seeing he’s alone in bed.

quick to take in the space around him, diluc notes how the bathroom light isn’t on and there’s a full glass of water on your night stand. you’re nowhere to be found and he feels a tug on his heart that brings him to his feet, his strides long as he heads for the closed bedroom door and down the grand staircase in only long sleep pants. 

he’s not sure what brings him to look outside before anywhere else, he dreads the thought of you being out there where something could hurt you with him not there to protect you. even if you could hold your own.. he just.. he never wanted to see anything happen to you and he could never get back to sleep without you next to him.

feeling his chest grow tight, he doesn’t let it slow his steps as he grabs his coat off of the back of the chair he had been working from earlier and pulls it over his bare arms and back, throwing open the heavy mahogany doors with ease. 

you spot the brightness of his hair even in the dark night barely lit with the few lanterns that still burn around the property and feel your heart squeeze at the sight of him. his ruby eyes are filled with worry and a softness that makes you think he looks a bit younger, makes you want to reach out and touch his cheek, ease his anxieties, stand on your toes to kiss his brow.

“what’re you doing out here?” you ask and you’re forced to look up as he closes the distance between you, shedding his coat and pulling it over your shoulders as soon as he could reach you. 

you’re enveloped in his warmth and the smell of wine from every angle, melting against his chest as he pulls you in close, like he needed to feel you against him.

“you’re not in bed,” he pulls you even closer, cradling the back of your skull with one hand, the other splayed across your lower back and his words are spoken softly against the shell of your ear. “i came looking for you.” 

“i’m sorry,” your reply is barely audible against the immediate comfort he provides you, the kind that melts down your worries and woes and leaves you feeling safe and like you might actually be able to fall asleep. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i just..” you pause, feeling guilty for having worried him by being out here. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“why didn’t you wake me?” 

he’s not angry or upset but you cling to him like a child in trouble. “you need your sleep too, you know.”

“i need you. i need you in my arms and close to me” he says, his words making you forget anything other than just being with him. it’s comfortably quiet between you for a few moments before he speaks again. “we can stay out here longer if you’d like.”

shaking your head against his chest, feeling the scars on his back under your fingertips and the soft skin around them, you let out a quiet ‘no, let’s go back to bed’ and feel your feet be swept out from under you the next second.

easily diluc carries you with one arm under your legs and the other at your back. in the night air his skin is still so incredibly warm and in his steady steps, you feel the tiredness begin to settle in your bones and let yourself skin further in his arms, succumbing to sleep before he makes it to the second floor of the manor.

♡♡♡♡♡

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[blingblong55]

My Love, Mine all mine -Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Based on a request:

"Broken men know who to love, but not how to love. Broken women know how to love, but not who to love." This is so Simon related 🥺🥺

---- F!Reader, fluff ----

A/N: Because he isn't always some tough masked solider, he is a man with wounds and a life beyond the battle field

It wasn't a shared feeling, he knew that well. You and he had stayed up and talked about a future like you had a clue. He knew your issues, love isn't what you want at times, you miss it, want it, but sometimes just at times, you can't give in to it, in fear of something greater that you don't know about. The smoke of his cigarette gave his not-so-secret hiding spot away. "Better not ask for my jumper again, doll," he knew you were there, knew those steps all too well. You chuckle, "You have to be some superhero," you sit beside him. He shrugs, "Just a mere mortal," he smiles. Silence between you two, speaking the words lips fail to say.

Simon knew you he was meant to love you, but not ever meant to show it. And just as he was about to speak, you rested your head on his shoulder. Classic way to ask for his jumper because you once again forgot your own. "No, not this time, I'm sick today," he excuses. "What if I get sick?" you ask and he chuckles. "You can never get sick darling, remember New Year's Day last year?" 

It was cold, wind and snow surrounded you and he walked to you. The night died down rather quickly, lovers kissing inside as you walked in the snow. Thirteen years of knowing the other, he knew you too well, you want to avoid the romance, avoid the cliche and have something different, but not all can be unique. You know well, he knows too, you turn around, "Go back inside, Si, you'll get sick." He shakes his head. "What, you're telling me you won't take care of me, love?" He gets closer to you, a little pout as he gives you his puppy eyes. "Don't do that, Simon." He smirks. "Doing what, all I'm saying is, why not let me be here with you and just shit-talk all those people who might invite us to their baby showers?" You laugh. "I'm wearing blue," you comment he rolls his eyes. "No way you'll make me wear pink," he shakes his head. You ignore it, knowing a baby shower would come within nine to ten months from your friends. 

He knows you. He just doesn't know if he can ever love you. In this world, a man like him isn't guaranteed a happy ending. Maybe a cut to the throat, death in a dark place, bullets blazing as his body takes its last breaths, that is a guaranteed end. Nothing in this world belongs to him, not even the knife he carries. "I almost got sick," you recall. "Keyword is almost," he looks at the skyline. "So, what is new?" he looks over to you. "Same old story." It was mad, to know he can be the man who loves you unconditionally. You could stab him in the back a million times and a million times he would thank you for doing it. Love works in different ways, his love is dark and deep but real. You could break his heart, expose him to the world, turn him into his enemy, kill him over and over, and each time, he would say he loves you.

It's a dark and twisted fairy tale to love him, but it's love that no one can take from him. He can tell you he loves you over and over, but you would still ask him if it was true. You can kiss him, care for him, hug him in days or nights when he is the most vulnerable, burn the world and watch it fall apart for him, only to have him think it's all foolery. One hug, one kiss, and he would still question what love is. The meaning displayed in your eyes, the feeling displayed in his gaze but neither are too brilliant to take a step and claim what the poets oh so need to see. You are conflicted, getting your heart broken over and over by many lovers, asking and crying to the starry nights what is so wrong with you.

Do you love too much, do you care too much? What if it's you and not them? What then? Simon, the cold stare to the passers and the soft gaze to you. R/N, the confused lover with issues and questions that one man's lips hold the answers to. One New Year's Day, one whisper of a truthful 'I love you,' two hearts, one bed, tears and promises. What makes love is not what others perceive it as. Not for a soldier, not for a civilian who questions all her love. At dinner with friends, questions were asked of when either would settle down like the others did, not knowing the answer was right at that table. Simon and R/N, are two complicated hearts that beat for one reason. To live. But those two words can be more than just a basic meaning.

One stormy night, knock on the door and he opens, shirtless and with hope. "Hi," your hoarse voice is too soft. He opens his arms and you run to them. Antidote, what a soldier like him found in that night when he promised he would be more than just a soldier but a man who loves a woman. A woman who cries in his arms as she gets heartbroken again. Boyfriends, thinking they are better than a true woman who all she wants to do is love and care. Something a soldier like him looks for in the dark. "They don't know what they lost, dear," he kisses the top of your head as he holds you close to him. He is done trying to find reasons to not love you.

You are tired of not finding enough excuses to call him home. Your home. His home. An embrace of a man who all he wants to do is protect the last thing on this earth to love him. It was a shared feeling, you both know that well. It is believed that since the creation of our universe, our galaxy, the dust that made us, always tries to find a way back to its other half. And, as he holds you close, two hearts, under one roof, he finds home, and you find home too. It's not about what piece is broken but what is still there. It's not about love or who or how to love.

Sometimes, love is not just a kiss, sex and a caress. Love is sometimes about waking up late morning, hair all messy, bodies tangled with the sheets and a burst of lazy laughter as you realise your lipstick is all over his face. Love is respect, honesty, trust, happiness, fun, and him, holding you near as he watches you cry over something small. Love is about being imperfect, flawed, broken and having the one you care for sit down, love you a little extra that day and watch as you fix yourself with his hand holding yours. 

Tags:

@ghostslillady @queen-ilmaree @jnsmeyv @madamemelancholysstuff @kit-kats06 @ghostslittlegf @trulyunknownone @rogerfxckingtaylor @cripitique @sinners-sins

[frogs-in3-hills]

okay i’ve had most of my life to steam on the ending of princess tutu and i’m only just now peeking in on the fandom side of things. and i love all the post-canon stories where ahiru gets to be a girl again!! but there’s another side there where i think we are missing the potential comedy of fakir’s girlfriend literally just being a duck. he starts taking the train to the city outside and taking university classes to hone his writing. he doesn’t really make friends with anyone else but he seems nice enough and he sometimes likes going to watch the ballet students. he has very strong opinions on the works of drosselmeyer. he talks and dresses like he’s from the 1900s and he’s obviously never used a computer before. it’s probably because he’s from that weirdass, walled-off part of the city where nobody ever returns from. he really likes ducks. and apparently he has a girl back home but he won’t ever talk about her.

then one day he starts bringing a duck to his lectures. an actual fucking duck. well, she’s a very well-behaved duck, and fakir seems much happier when he brings her so everyone just kind of accepts it. oh yeah, fakir, that’s the duck guy. he writes about ducks and he has a duck named duck. she’s a very friendly duck, and he lets her waddle off to hang out with other groups or to swim in the fountain. sometimes she perches on his desk in class and watches him write as if she can read the words (and he still uses a feather quill and ink—in hindsight, he’s an english major, so this is maybe the least weird thing about him). sometimes after the lecture he’ll sit outside and explain everything to his duck like she could actually understand, and everybody just figures that’s how he processes, like a programmer with a rubber duck on their desk, except with a real duck instead. he writes about ducks too. lots and lots of ducks. he is, inexplicably, the duck guy.

their university has a small ballet major. anyone is free to use the practice rooms. one of the ballet students swears up and down she once saw the strangest thing through the window one night—fakir and his duck, dancing a piecemealed pas de deux in the darkness. the duck was standing on a little stool so she could reach his hand and she was on the tips of her feet, as if trying to dance en pointe. and fakir was laughing. nobody had ever really seen fakir laugh before. it was almost as weird as him dancing with a duck who had somehow gotten ballet training. the student told all of her friends about this strange sight, but nobody believed her—“that’s crazy,” they said, “you must be dreaming up fairy tales.”

fakir is mysterious and offputting and quite the loner. but everyone mostly likes him because he is the duck guy.

[oh-stars]

Eddie's Quest

Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 916 words | CW: implied bad Harrington parents, rec drug use | Rating: T

--

There isn’t much from Steve’s childhood that Eddie knows about and what he does know, hasn’t always been good. Steve just doesn’t share a lot in general though. He’s content in living in the present, which isn’t something Eddie really knows how to do. So when Steve does share something positive, something that he holds dear from his childhood, Eddie latches on.

Their anniversary is coming up, only a few weeks away, and Steve mentioned he misses the way a babysitter made this specific kind of cake. Black something. Steve couldn’t remember the name of it so now Eddie’s on a mission to try and figure it out. 

Eddie finds himself at Claudia Henderson’s doorstep on a Tuesday morning with flowers in his hand. When she opens the door, Eddie doesn’t even let her say hello before he’s giving them to her with a, “I need your help finding this really obscure recipe to make Steve happy and I have a feeling it’s going to be a nightmare because I can’t bake for shit. Will you please help?” 

Claudia coos at him. “Oh you’re the sweetest, Eddie! Of course, I’ll help! Come in, come in.” 

They end up pouring over all her cookbooks, and then Claudia starts a phone tree with Karen, Sue, and Joyce for their recipes. All five of them converge at the library, their personal cookbooks in hand, to take over one of the study rooms the library offers. “If we don’t have it,” Claudia told him as they settled in, “then the library will.” 

Eddie can’t even argue as they get to work. 

“Did he say what it tasted like?” Karen asks as she starts flipping through a book. Joyce had the brilliant idea of marking where all the dessert sections started in each book, so each woman was currently flipping away while Eddie tried to remember every detail Steve had mentioned. 

“He mentioned cherries,” Eddie groans, scrubbing at his face. “And it’s a cake.” 

“Could be topped with cherries,” Sue hums as she sorts through her books. 

“Or a cherry filling,” Claudia points out. 

“Steve has a sweet tooth,” Joyce adds after a while. “He likes rich flavors, so it’s probably on the sweeter side than a refreshing dessert.” 

Eddie shrugs. “I guess?” 

“You know,” Karen says as she taps her fingers against her book. “I think I remember a few of Steve’s nannies over the years. They were always at the school for pick up. Do you know which one has the recipe?” 

“Does she still live here?” Sue asks. “It would save us some time to just ask.” 

“No, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “He said his parents didn’t let him keep in touch and she moved away. He doesn’t know where.” 

The women share a knowing, quiet look amongst them. Eddie’s not sure he’s fluent in their silent mom language, but he knows a judgy look when he sees one. 

Eddie jumps up and paces the room, retracing every line of thinking that particular conversation followed. The problem is, they were high as fuck when Steve brought it up, sharing tidbits between big bites of the ice cream they’d found in their freezer. 

“You would have loved her,” Steve had said with a mouthful. He was laying on Eddie, legs hanging off the arm of the couch and propped against Eddie’s side so they could share the pint. “She liked to read a lot, always had books for me.”

“What kind of books?” Eddie asked. 

“Think ones.” Steve shrugged, eyes glazed over. “Fairy Tales, but the real gross stuff. So my dad wouldn’t get mad,” he added quickly. 

Gross fairy tales, Eddie thinks. He knows what Steve’s talking about, the original dark shit that they used to scare children into behaving from the grim–

“German!” Eddie screeches as he slams his hands on the table. To their credit, none of the mothers jump except for Joyce. “She was German!” 

Karen looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in concentration. Claudia taps her fingers against her temple. Sue hums as she checks a few of the spines on the other stacks. Joyce leans back, crossing her arms as she stares off into space. 

“That has to help,” Eddie tries, quieter, “right?” 

“Maybe,” Karen says as she blinks back at the cookbook. She trades it for another. “And you’re sure it had cherries?” 

“Oh!” Joyce jumps up, hands flailing as she grabs for a book off Claudia’s stack. “I know it!” 

They all crowd around the book, heads tucked together as Joyce flies through the sections and slaps a finger against a chocolate cake. “Black Forest Cake,” she says, panting a little. 

Eddie moves the book to read the description. “This is it!” 

Their cheering gets them kicked out, but none of them seem to mind as they tote their cookbook stacks back to their cars. Claudia and Sue are already talking about commandeering Karen’s kitchen to bake it in a few days, since her kitchen is bigger, and they can all help – make a day of it with wine and gossip. He doesn’t care how it gets made, just that he can take it to Steve, to show him he listens and cares and loves him so much. He can’t wait to share this cake with him, to make it for him every year just because. His quest will be complete and he’ll get to live happily ever after with a very happy, well-fed prince. Best quest yet.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

*Gif and pic not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: your life is amazing. You have everything you wished for, a caring and beautiful husband, a satisfying job, an amazing house. What if in a matter of seconds, your incredible fairy tale is about to take a tragic twist?

• Warnings: angst, mention of car crash, blood, wounds, curse words, death.

• Word count: 7580.

• A/N: Please don’t kill me. Y’ALL BETTER EAT THIS FIC UP BECAUSE I PUT MY BLOOD AND SWEAT AND TEARS (always pretty please). I hope you’ll like this piece I know I was heartbroken writing it. Drop a like, a comment and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing and so helpful. I apologize for any mistake or grammar error. Thank you so much as always for your support, looking forward for your opinion. ❤️

“Baby!”.

“Y/n!”.

“You hear me? Please answer me”.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don't leave me.”

What was going on?

Why did you feel so weak?

Where was Spencer?

Your breathing was heavy, cold shivers ran through your body but despite this you couldn't move a single muscle even if you could feel your body waving to an unknown motion, like you were floating.

Am I moving?

You felt your eyelids fighting not to stay closed even if you tried with every fiber of your body to fight against that tiredness that wanted so badly to suck you into the darkness.

You were so afraid.

You managed to slightly open your eyes, only for a fraction of a second, and all you saw was a blinding white light that forced you to close your eyes right after. It was so strong you couldn't open them again.

What it was?

Was it heaven?

Were you dead?

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight, I know you’re so strong. I’m begging you… Stay with me…”

Spencer?

Yes, there was no doubt that it was him even if his voice carried in the distance, each word fading further and further. You wanted so badly to answer him, to shout you were okay, that you could hear him, that you were there with him.

But were you really okay?

No, I’m not.

And the more you fought against the darkness, the more it sucked you into its heavy vortex.

You fought, you really tried, but you didn't have the strength. You were too weak, too tired.

You just wanted to rest for a bit.

God please let me okay.

You eventually gave up, stopped fighting and let yourself be lulled by that darkness.

It was so peaceful.

There wasn’t any more pain. Any suffering.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Five hours earlier

“I really don't feel like going to work this morning,” your husband kept complaining. You were both still in your bedroom, you were sitting while Spencer was lying next to you, his arm around your hips and his head on your lap.

“Hotch will kill you if you take a day off without warning,” you giggled, running your fingers through his fluffy hair. “I also wish you could stay here love, I feel so lonely here without you. But unfortunately you can’t.”

Spencer huffed, holding you even tighter. “I know I'm so sorry baby, I hate leaving you alone. I'm always so worried.”

“Oh yeah I know, the three thousand texts you send me always asking me if I'm okay prove it.” You teased him and even though you couldn't see him you knew full well he rolled his eyes.

“Ah, ah, keep making fun of me,” he retorted. “Is it really weird I want to keep you safe?”.

“No baby, I was joking. You know very well I love you're so protective of me and besides, I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He kept caressing your side, leaving a kiss on it at the level of your scar, a gesture that made your heart melt. He looked up at you and smiled before propping himself up on his elbows, resting his free hand on your face and pressing his lips on yours. A flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach.

It didn't matter how long you two were together, you felt the same butterflies, the same feeling as in the early days, he still managed to make your heart skip a beat with just a kiss.

God I love this man so much.

“What will I do without you?” Spencer pouted, already missing you before he even got out of bed and got dressed. “I just hope we won’t have any case.”

Spencer had left for work, but not before recommending you to call and text him if you needed anything. You reassured him, telling him not to worry, that everything would be fine and of course you wouldn't hesitate to call him.

You settled on the couch and spent the morning watching episodes of your favorite TV show which, although you loved it, was getting tiresome.

Three weeks earlier you had been injured on duty while chasing a serial killer who had shot you as he tried to escape.

You were fine but Spencer, being his overprotective self, refused to let you do anything that involved physical effort and prevented you in any way from returning back to work before the five weeks of rest recommended by the doctor. And it didn't help that Hotch agreed with him.

Spencer did nothing but text you all morning when he could, asking how you were as if you were in a hospital bed. You reassured him, sending him selfies of you lying on the couch, asking him how things were going at the unit.

You loved Spencer so much, you loved the way he always protected you, the way he was so thoughtful of you, the way he always put you first in any moment and situation.

The morning was rather boring so you decided to keep yourself busy with cooking something for lunch, that you wanted to bring to Spencer too since you missed him and didn't want to wait until the evening to see him again. But you also wanted to see the rest of the team again. You hated to say it, but you missed those assholes.

As you packed your and Spencer's lunch, your phone vibrated on the table.

From: Spence 💍, 12.47 AM Is it weird I miss you so terribly? I'll never get used to not seeing you here.

You smiled like an idiot, knowing how much Spencer wasn't a fan of technology but despite this being committed to use it since you couldn't live without it.

To: Spence 💍, 12:50 AM Have I ever told you I’m so madly in love with you Doctor Reid? I miss you so much more xx

You placed your phone on the table and continued putting away your lunch. When you finished, you grabbed some clean cutlery and paper napkins and then looked at your phone, noticing he didn’t answer your text yet.

You left the house after making sure you locked the door, you went to your car, pulling your phone out of your purse to send an audio message to Spencer.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” you let out a small laugh. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

You got into your car and placed the two lunch boxes on the passenger seat. While driving, you were careful not to brake suddenly to avoid all the food spilling into your car.

You stopped at a red light and you took you phone to see if Spencer had texted you back but he didn’t.

The light turned green after almost thirty seconds and you placed your phone in your purse again before starting to drive again. You were at an intersection and you just drove few meters before your saw out of the corner of your eye a car speeding towards you.

You turned your head towards it and tried to brake but you weren't very fast.

Everything happened quickly.

A sudden, deafening thud made your ears ring and time seemed to stop for an instant.

You didn't have time to react, to even let out a scream or do anything else before that car hit you full force on the side.

If someone had asked you to describe what had happened in that moment, you wouldn’t have been able to do it because you didn’t even know what had happened in the first place, having lost consciousness before you could realize you had just been involved in a car crash.

Spencer was unaware in the meantime his whole life was about to undergo something he’d never, ever want to face, something he continually lived in fear of happening.

He and the rest of the team were in the meeting room, investigating on a case of a serial killer that the police in a nearby town had asked for help with. It was a simple case, so it wasn't even necessary for the whole team to go there.

“Reid focus.” Hotch had warned him several times when during the morning he caught him on his cell phone, the small smile shadowed his lips making it obvious who he was talking to. So he had put his cell phone in his pocket although his mind always went towards you.

He wondered what you were doing although knowing you, you were probably watching some TV show and the thought of you lying on the sofa, curled up under the blanket made him smile, earning you a small pat on the back of the head from Morgan.

“Focus pretty boy, I know you miss your beautiful wife but we have a case to solve.”

This had started a series of jokes and teasing towards Reid who in response would gave everyone the middle finger.

The truth was that he missed you deeply, he missed looking up and seeing you sitting at your desk filling out some case report with your pen between your lips and the wedding ring shining on your finger, he missed flirting with you in a not-so-subtle way and being made fun of by the whole team, even Hotch. He missed traveling from city to city and working with you to catch ruthless killers, he missed seeing you sitting in your chair around the meeting room table.

He couldn't wait for those two more weeks to pass, although the worry you still hadn't fully recovered didn't leave his mind.

His phone suddenly started ringing and he muttered an 'excuse me' before taking it out of his pocket and reading your name on the screen.

He moved away from the others so he could answer the call.

“Hi baby! What...-” He started but stopped immediately after when a voice that didn't belong to you interrupted him, making the smile he had on his lips instantly disappear.

“Do you happen to know Y/n Y/Ln? We found this number among the emergency contacts.”

Spencer frowned, his heart already eating wildly and anxiety twisting his guts. “Y-yes. She’s my wife… What's going on? Who am I talking to? Where’s she? Is she okay?”.

“I'm sorry to inform you that your wife was involved in a car accident, she’s in serious conditions…”

Spencer froze in place, the man's words echoing in his head while he couldn't process them.

What the fuck?

“C-can you repeat that?” He stammered, hoping it was just a misunderstanding, that the man had gotten the wrong person. “There must be a mistake m-my wife… She’s… She’s at home…”

“I’m very sorry sir…”

Spencer Reid, who had always been a quiet, calm and collected person, completely lost his mind.

After getting the address of the car crash site he ran at lightning speed out of the unit, ignoring the voices of Derek and the rest of the team who called him worriedly.

His mind wasn't focused on anyone else but you and as he sped through the streets he couldn't help but think about what the hell had happened.

You were supposed to be home, on the couch watching TV. Why did you went out? Why didn't you text him?

His stomach clenched with anxiety, an emotion he wasn't familiar with but since he'd met you he often seemed to feel because of the constant and devastating fear something bad might happen to you.

He wasn't good with feelings, everyone knew it, but thanks to you he had learned to give voice to what he felt, he had learned to embrace those sensations and emotions he struggled to show from an early age and that for so long he wanted to suppress.

A lump kept pressing on his throat, almost suffocating him. He continued to murmur and hope you were okay but when he arrived at the scene his heart almost stopped again.

The car crash scene was a disaster.

Various passers-by had gathered in shock from a distance to watch curiously as the fire fighters and paramedics worked on those piles of scrap metal that were the cars.

They were completely destroyed and no one believed the two drivers had made it given the catastrophic impact.

Various emotions had passed through Reid, emotions that he could group into one word: dying. That’s how he felt, dying.

He pushed through the crowd of people, pushing them aside and ignoring those who complained in response. After identifying himself with the cops he ran towards the wreckage where the rescuers and firefighters had just pulled you out of the destroyed car.

“Let me go! That's my wife right there!” He continued to exclaim loudly while two cops struggled to restrain him. His gaze was fixed on you, on your unconscious body while the rescuers carried you on the stretcher.

“Sir you need to let the paramedics do their job! I know it's a horrible situation but this will only hinder them!”.

Spencer was a guy who didn't like conflicts but at that precise moment he was willing to kill those cops with his bare hands.

He snorted loudly, pulling out his badge. “I'm an FBI agent and if you don't let me go to my wife right now I will make your life a living hell and have your badges on my desk before tomorrow.”

It only happened very few times he’d threatened someone, and most of them were to extort information or to make a killer to confess, but the way his wild and desperate eyes were glaring at the two cops, made them understand he wasn't bluffing at all.

They eventually let him pass and he ran towards you.

You lay unconscious on the stretcher, your body covered in your own blood. You had an oxygen mask on your face, a collar around your neck to stabilize it and Spencer had to rely on all the strength he had in his body not to collapse there in front of everyone.

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it was true.

He grabbed your hand with his, the diamond of your ring pressing against his palm. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, not wanting to let his emotions overwhelm him. He couldn't be weak, not now, not when you needed him.

“Baby!”.

He called your name, desperation clear in his voice. His eyes scanned your face, always beautiful as the sun even if dotted with scratches and bruises.

“Y/n!”.

He called your name again, with even more urgency and desperation, hoping that hearing his voice would wake you up.

“You hear me? Please answer me.”

“Sir we have to go to the hospital immediately. We have no time to waste.” The paramedic's voice brought him back to reality and Spencer nodded, never taking his eyes off you.

“Please hold on, everything will be okay I promise. Please… Don’t leave me,” he whispered to you before turning to the paramedics. “I’m coming with you.”

The journey to the hospital was the longest and most painful ride Reid had ever made in his entire life.

He never let go of your hand, occasionally kissing your knuckles as he carefully watched every little movement the paramedics made.

At a certain point his heart rekindled with hope when he saw your eyelids move and open slightly.

“Y/n baby! Can you hear me? Y/n!” He exclaimed but his hope faded when he saw your eyelids close a second later and you lose consciousness again.

“Please baby hold on, if you hear me please fight,” His eyes filled with tears but he tried to fight them back, this wasn’t the time to cry. “I know you’re so strong, I’m begging you… Stay with me… I'm here, I'm here, and I’m not leaving you. Everything will be fine, you’ll be okay.”

You had a cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital but they managed to revive you and needless to say, this freaked out Spencer even more than he already was.

You died in front of him.

For a few moments your heart had stopped beating and the terror Spencer felt was a sensation he had never felt before. Maybe only when something happened to you during the job. He had always told you that you’d give him a heart attack sooner or later.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Spencer barely had time to say anything before the doctors rushed you to the OR, leaving him helpless.

He passed his hands on his face, then fingers in his hair as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

He had heard the police say the driver that hit you had lost control of his car after feeling dizzy, failing to stop at the red light and hitting you while you had just started driving again after the green light.

You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It had all been a stupid twist of fate and now you had to fight to live.

Spencer didn't believe in fate, he didn't believe there was some superior being or entity, he believed in science, in empirical data, in theories proven by hypotheses and theses, but then why did this happen? Why was the love of his life fighting between life and death?

Why did it seem like someone or something wanted to snatch his happiness away when he was finally happy?

He walked back and forth across the floor of the waiting room for what seemed an infinite amount of time, almost digging a ditch in the wake of his footsteps.

He had called Hotch, told him about the car crash and that you were in surgery and he reassured him the whole team would be there in no time.

It wasn't until after you ended the call with Hotch that Spencer saw your last messages, including the audio text you'd sent him.

His fingers were shaking and he sat down, fearing his knees would give out sooner or later.

His eyes filled with tears again as they read the message and the chasm inside his heart opened even more. But it was when he listened to your audio message the air was completely sucked out of his lungs and it became difficult to continue breathing.

“Baby don’t eat anything because I'm coming with your favorite food. It's a little burnt I have to admit, but in my defense I was distracted watching TV,” He heard you giggle while in the background he heard the car door open and close shortly after, a sign that you had just gotten into the car. “If you know what's best for you, you'll better say it's delicious or you'll sleep on the couch tonight. I love you so much, see you soon!”.

Your audio cut out and Spencer only realized he was crying when tears fell from his eyes onto his phone screen.

He was completely devastated.

It was his fault.

You went out because you were going to bring him food.

He couldn't process what was happening, he couldn't conceive it.

How did you go from hugging in bed that morning to you in the OR? For what kind of fucked up reason did this happen to you? Among the many people who could’ve been at that damned intersection, why did it have to be you?

Spencer knew it wasn't right to hope it happened to someone else but he didn’t care, fuck, he wished it’d happened to himself.

For the first time in his whole life Spencer prayed.

He prayed with every fiber of his being to whoever was up there to make you survive, he prayed to be able to see you again, hug you, kiss you again. He prayed to hear your laugh again, your awful jokes, to see your smile and your eyes shining when you saw him, he prayed to be able to sleep with you again, to wake up in the morning and smell the scent of your skin and hair, of feeling your fingers run through his messy hair while you were watching a movie and he had his head resting on your lap.

He prayed to still have time with you. He prayed to start a family with you even though the thought of it terrified him because he had no idea how to be a parent, but at the same time knowing there was no other person he’d want to do it if not you. He begged to tease you when the first wrinkles would appear on your beautiful face but to console you at the same time saying you were still the most beautiful and breathtaking woman he had ever met in his life.

He prayed to see your hair turn white, to see your children have kids of their own, he prayed to hold your hand until the end of your days.

He couldn't imagine a place on the planet where you didn't exist, where you weren't with him.

You two just got married, you had just started your life together, it couldn't all just vanish like that, in the blink of an eye, it just couldn't end.

You were strong. This was one of the many qualities Spencer admired about you, you were much stronger than you wanted to show and if there was anyone who could overcome that obstacle it was you.

The rest of the BAU had arrived after about fifteen minutes, both with worried and heartbroken expressions on their faces except Penelope, who was crying almost as many tears as she had.

“Reid!”.

JJ's voice made Spencer snap his head up from his phone, not realizing he had been mesmerized by looking at the picture he had as his background. It was a photo of you he took during a picnic during one of your first dates after you got together, Spencer had told a horrible joke and you had burst out laughing.

Spencer was so hypnotized by you, by the sound of your laugh, by your smile, by the small wrinkles at the corners of your eyes that he couldn't resist taking a photo and since then it had become his wallpaper and one of his favorite photos of you ever.

Everyone could notice the swelling of Spencer's eyes, evidence of the crying.

“Come here pretty boy.”

Morgan was the first to approach Spencer, pulling him in a brotherly hug, squeezing him with all the strength he had in his body, as if wanting to convey to him some of that strength he knew he tremendously needed.

“She's gonna make it okay? We know Y/n, that woman is a force of nature. She’ll make it.” He whispered in his ear, trying to hold back his emotions.

Everyone tried to appear as strong as possible but the truth was they too felt a boulder pressing on their stomach. Before being Spencer's wife, his partner, you were a colleague, a friend to all of them.

Nobody said anything else.

There were no need for words, everyone knew it’d be of no use.

They all tried to comfort each other, Emily was holding Garcia's hand the entire time, JJ and Morgan were sitting next to Spencer while Hotch and Rossi were standing not far from the others, all silently praying for you wellbeing.

Reid's body was sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by his friends and colleagues, yet his mind was completely elsewhere. His thoughts ran and ran, without stopping, so fast he didn't know which ones to listen to first.

Spencer and the team spent hours sitting in the waiting room, waiting for some doctor to come and update them on your health. He hoped the longer they took it meant there was a better chance of you getting through the surgery.

When he saw a doctor approaching where they were sitting, it was as if a vision manifested in front of him. His heart was beating wildly, so loudly he thought everyone around him could hear it while anxiety twisted his stomach so much he feared he’d throw up on the doctor's feet.

“Are you Y/n Y/Ln's family?” the doctor asked.

“I'm her husband. How is she? Please tell me she's okay. When can I see her?” Spencer blathered once he jumped up and approached doctor - he read the card - Miller.

He looked skeptically at the rest of the team, and then Spencer spoke. “It’s okay, we’re all colleagues, a family. How is Y/n? She made it right?”.

Spencer observed the micro-expressions on Dr. Miller's face. He noticed how his eyebrows furrowed slightly, how his chest rose slightly and fell, how his lips pressed together, how his neck stiffened and his posture tensed.

He knew that expression, unfortunately he knew it too well because of the job he did. It was the same expression with which he looked at the victims’ families when he was about to give them the worst and most devastating news of their lives.

Spencer saw that but decided to ignore it, he decided not to listen to his guts.

“The patient suffered much more serious damage than we imagined…”

“And what are you doing here? Go help her!” Spencer exclaimed, abruptly interrupting the doctor.

“Due to the violent trauma and along with broken bones, the ruptured spleen, the liver damage as well as the amount of blood she lost, she had also suffered a dissection of the ascending aorta.”

Spencer's heart stopped.

“W-what? What does that mean doctor?” It was Penelope who asked.

“It’s the tearing of the aorta’s wall, the largest vessel in our body. It has weakened due to the trauma and it’s no longer able to pump blood towards the other blood vessels and consequently the entire body can’t receive enough blood. Trying to repair it’s practically impossible, as her heart has already stopped once, she’s too weak to face a surgery, and the dissection further aggravates the situation. She would die on the OR table before we can even get to the aorta,” Dr. Miller explained, trying to be as clear as possible.

“Dissection of the ascending aorta is unfortunately one of the most serious vascular conditions and… There is no easy way to say it, we have done everything we can but she does't have much time left. It's a matter of hours…”

A deafening silence fell in the waiting room.

Almost everyone put their hands to their mouths to try to cover the gasps and sobs, Hotch stared at his shoes while shaking his head in disbelief. No one could believe what they had just heard.

Spencer couldn't hear a word Dr. Miller said. His brain refused to process them, because it couldn't be true, there must have been some misunderstanding.

Maybe he had confused patient, maybe he had talked to the wrong family.

“No, no, no!” Spencer exclaimed loudly. Morgan put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it violently. “Don’t touch me!” Then he went on to point a finger at Dr. Miller.

“Say it again.”

“Sir…”

“Reid…” Rossi whispered.

“Say it again!” He shouted, his voice shaking. “Say it! Because there is no way on earth I just heard my wife is fucking dying! Say it again!”.

Spencer's voice cracked at the end and he burst into tears, bending to the ground as he felt his legs gave out.

Dr. Miller looked at Spencer with sadness while he was in the throes of disbelief and despair. Nobody dared to say anything, they too had to process that mourning, but they all knew that Spencer needed time more than anyone.

How do you react calmly when someone tells you that your partner, the love of your life, is about to die?

And it wasn't just any person, someone he just met, but you. You were dying.

Doctor Miller knelt in front of Spencer, placing a hand on his shoulder as he continued to cry all the tears he had in his body. “I'm so sorry, if there had been anything, anything we could’ve done to save her we would’ve done please trust me. I can't even imagine what you're going through right now but she's in the ICU now and she's awake, we gave her morphine so she doesn't feel any pain. Go and say goodbye to her, okay?”.

The world was collapsing on him, everything was disintegrating around him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

How the fuck did this happen? How the fuck was that possible?

He couldn't believe it, he couldn't process what was happening.

It shouldn't have happened, not to you, you didn't deserve it.

He was terrified, more than he had ever been in his entire life, not even when he had been kidnapped and tortured by a ruthless killer.

Images after images of moments with you continued to flood his mind while a sense of anguish gripped his stomach, so strong he couldn't stop crying.

He cried.

Everyone cried with him in that waiting room, hugging each other.

All his dreams had been shattered, they had all vanished in the blink of an eye, flown away like a grain of sand in the sea.

Where did his ‘forever’ go?

His forever was in the ICU and was about to die. The only person he had ever loved, the only person who had ever understood him without trying to fix him, the only person who had ever made him happy, who had made him understand the meaning of the word love, who had made him believe that even if he came from a dysfunctional family that didn't mean the same fate would happen to him, the only person for whom he lived, breathed, for whom he committed himself every single day to fight his demons and ghosts was about to walk away forever.

How do you survive something like that?

What would he have done without you?

Spencer couldn't live without you.

He couldn't even imagine waking up in the morning and not finding you. He couldn't imagine coming home at night and knowing you’d be dead. He couldn’t imagine going in the kitchen and not smelling your food. He couldn’t imagine watch a romantic movie and not seeing you cry your eyes out.

No, no, no, fuck, that couldn't be true.

One by one they all came to you to say goodbye but no one spoke to each other. Spencer didn’t have the strength to walk into that room, he hoped till the last minute it was just a nightmare and he’d soon wake up.

There was only desperation and so many, many tears. Even Hotchner, always so serious and impeccable, couldn't stop the tears when he left your room, moving away from the others so as not to be seen.

The last one was him.

When it was Spencer's turn he was terrified.

His fingers trembled as they were about to open the door. He didn't have the courage to enter that room, look you in the eyes, say goodbye to his love.

With what strength would he have hugged you knowing it would be the last time? How would he be able to say goodbye? How would he be able to tell you he loved you knowing it was the last time? How could he let you go?

Every step he took was heavy, leaving a piece of his tormented soul behind each one.

Seeing you was like a punch in the stomach, like every time his eyes rested on you but that time what he felt wasn't happiness but only sadness, desperation, anguish and helplessness.

Oh my everlasting love. You didn't deserve all of this.

You lay in bed, a nasal cannula supplying you with oxygen, electrodes connecting your body to monitors that marked a low blood pressure and a below-normal heart rate.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to rely on what little strength he had to not collapse to the floor and burst into desperate tears again. But the shine of his eyes, their swelling and redness showed how intensely he had cried in the last few hours.

You looked at him and he felt breathless.

How will I live without those eyes?

“Hi baby.”

His voice trembled, smiling slightly as he moved closer to you. He couldn't conceive the idea that the last time he had seen you was that same morning and you were fine, while at that moment you were on a hospital bed dying.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to you. He took one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and leaving a kiss on the back of it. All it took was for your skin to come in contact with his for him to burst into inconsolable and suffocating tears again.

He wrapped his arms around your hips, his head resting on your abdomen as you stroked his hair. It was a projection from that same morning but the difference was that this time would be the last.

He would no longer hug you, he would no longer be lulled by the warmth of your arms, feel your fingers run through his messy and tangled hair.

Silence reigned in the room, interrupted only by Spencer's sobs as he continued to cry desperately. He held you like he had never done before, as if in that way he hoped you would stay.

“It's okay…” you barely whispered, weakened and groggy from the morphine.

You felt… Apathetic.

You couldn't describe the emotions you felt at that moment, ever since the doctor told you didn’t have much time you felt anesthetized.

It was as if you were seeing everything from an external perspective, as if it wasn't really you lying on the bed, as if it wasn't you who was going to die in a few hours.

Not a tear had rolled down yours, not even when the rest of your team had come to say their final goodbyes.

You didn't want to feel like this, you didn't want to be apathetic, so numb. You wanted to feel anger, pain, helplessness, anguish, anxiety, anything, you wanted to cry, scream, but the more you tried, the more you couldn't.

“Don’t leave me please…” Spencer's sobs interrupted him. He continued to cling to you, to hold onto you as if his life depended on it.

“Baby, look at me.” Your voice was hoarse, thick with sleep and tiredness.

“No, no, no, I know what you want to tell me… No…” He held you even tighter than before. “You can't leave me…”

He turned his head towards you, his vision completely blurred with tears, his face wet. He brought his hands to your face, caressed your cheeks, your hair and tried as much as possible to imprint every detail of your skin in his memory.

“You're so beautiful baby,” he whispered, “It's not fair…”

“I know,” you whispered back weakly, “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. But it's so unpredictable, isn't it?”.

“No, life sucks.”

You placed a hand on his still on your face, closing your eyes for a moment and enjoying the feeling of warmth that only he could give you.

“I know everything seems bad right now, I know you'll think this long after I'm gone but it's not like that love, life doesn't suck. It’s the most beautiful gift we could ever have...” you murmured with no small effort, your breathing heavy and difficult.

He shook his head. “Bullshit. You are my life, baby...” He cried. “I can't live without you. I can't... I can't go home and not find you there, I can't sleep without you next to me, I can't go to work and look up and not find you sitting there at your desk… I can’t…”

“Of course you can you’re the strongest person I know baby, even if you don't recognize it. You’ll be happy again...” You placed a hand on his cheek, drying with your fingers his tears that never stopped coming out. “Promise me one thing.”

“No, no, no, I can't, don't do this to me please… Don't make me promise something I can't keep baby…”

“Spencer, please. I can't leave knowing you won't be happy, please, I need to know you’ll at least try... Promise me...”

A solitary tear rolled down your face, even though you didn't even realize it at the time.

He shook his head, looking down as he continued to cry. He sat down on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug you tried to return with the little strength you had left.

He left a long kiss on your head, inhaling deeply that beautiful scent he’d never be able to smell again in his life. He rested his cheek on you, letting your hair tickle his skin.

“I can't… I can't…” he repeated, feeling the air disappear more and more from his lungs. “You’re the first person who made me understand what it means to be happy baby… I don’t how to do it without you… D-don't… You can't ask me… I’m begging you…”

You slightly pulled away from him, cupping your hands on his face and smiling slightly through the tears you hadn't even realized you were shedding.

You were crying.

“I wouldn't ask you if I knew you couldn't Spence. I know it’ll be hard but life is beautiful baby, so damn beautiful and deserves to be lived to the full. Plus, I'm not really leaving okay? My body may no longer be here but my soul will always be with you, I’ll always be here when you need me, I will never leave you.” You spoke softly, your breathing heavy with each word. You placed a hand at his heart level which was beating wildly at that moment.

He shook his head again, still crying as desperation enveloped him more and more. “But I-I want you here…”

“Shh, listen to me love, please…” You stopped due to a cough. Spencer rushed to get you a glass of water from the bedside table, helping you drink and stroking your back in the meantime. “Thanks baby.”

Despite the morphine you still felt a weight on your chest, your lungs couldn't expand and everything hurt.

But it wasn't physical pain.

It was your soul that was hurting.

“Listen to me…” You started speaking feebly again, looking Spencer in his eyes, losing yourself in those two beautiful wells. “I need to know you’ll move on baby, that you’ll find someone you’ll love again and who will love you so deeply like I did, with whom you’ll build a beautiful family, with whom you’ll have children, a beautiful house and a dog if you want. This doesn’t mean you’ll forget about me, I’ll always be by your side at every step you take, I promise you, I’ll watch over you and if you need anything you just have to talk to me... Maybe not in front of other people or they’ll think you’re crazy.”

He chuckled through his tears and your heart skipped a beat. “That’s it. That’s the beautiful smile I always want to see, God you make me so happy.”

“There will be no one after you baby.”

“Spence please…-”

“No, no, you can't ask me that,” he murmured, his tone of voice so melancholy and sorrowful it made your gut wrench. “When I married you I never thought for a second there could be an ‘after you’, never, even though I knew the risks we both ran because of our jobs. There will never be anyone after you Y/n, there will never be anyone who can ever make me happy like you do, there will never be anyone I will ever love as much as I love you. It… It wouldn't be right...” He let out a deep sigh “It wouldn't be right for her, for... For the children because I wouldn't love them as much as I love you, because I would look at them and only think I could’ve had all that with you and I don't want that…”

He stroked your hair, looking at you with so much love it made your heart melt.

You didn’t want your time to end. You wanted to be with him, forever.

“Spencer… I-I'm terrified…” You managed to murmur before bursting into desperate, heartbreaking tears. Spencer hugged you while you sobbed into his sweater.

“I know… I know…”

Terrified didn't even come close to describing how you felt at that moment.

I'm dying.

Soon I won't be here anymore.

You couldn't conceive it, realize it, you couldn't accept it. But then again, how could you? Who would ever accept a death sentence?

You weren't ready.

You didn't want to leave Spencer, God, you had so many dreams to achieve together and it wasn't fucking right, it wasn't.

You just wanted to bring lunch and eat with your beloved husband, spend some time with him, why did this have to happen to you? What did you do wrong? You hadn't died from a bullet three weeks earlier but you were about to die for wanting to see your husband.

Why didn't you just stay home? If you had done it you would’ve been fine, you would’ve just had to wait for Spencer to come home that evening so you could hug him again. If you had done it you would’ve slept in the same bed, together that night, perhaps after making love, the next morning you would’ve woken up with his scent and his warmth, you would’ve had breakfast together.

You both cried until you couldn't breathe, holding on to each other as if you were both each other's lifelines.

You felt weak, every moment that passed breathing was like a punch in the stomach even though the oxygen flow had been turned up to maximum.

Hours passed and every minute that passed the fear paralyzed you more and more.

Spencer stayed next to you the entire time, hugging you and tightly holding your hand. You’d think he had shed all the tears he had in his body but instead he had never stopped, he continued to cling to you, to hold you in the hope that a miracle would happen.

He didn't believe in miracles, he thought there was a reason for everything, but in that moment he prayed for one to happen with every fiber of his being.

Your eyelids felt heavy and you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You were tired, so fucking tired, just wanting to rest for a bit but knowing if you definitely close your eyes you wouldn’t be able to open them again.

“Do you think heaven exists?” You whispered in a small, thin voice. Spencer kissed your forehead, continuing to stroke your hair as his salty tears kept running down his cheeks.

“Of course it exists, all the angels are just waiting for you. I'm pretty sure you’ll be the most beautiful angel of all, dressed in white and with the light surrounding you.”

You giggled, only to be interrupted by yet another cough. You were so grateful to have Spencer, that even though he didn't believe in an afterlife, in heaven, in angels, still tried to make you feel better.

“I'm so tired baby…” you murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

He held you tighter, feeling more tears streak down his face. “I know my love, but you can rest, I’ll always be here I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

“Spencer, you are the greatest and most beautiful love I have ever had in life, you made me the happiest I've ever been and I want to thank you for everything, for everything you have done for me, for teaching me the truth meaning of love…” You took a deep breath. “I will love you forever, I hope you know that, in this world and wherever else I’ll go. I know we’ll meet again, even if not in this life, we’ll meet in next one.”

He shook his head in despair as he continued to sob and cry. He wasn't ready to say goodbye, he wasn't ready to let you go, but who he was kidding, he never would be.

“I love you so much my darling, I will always love you until my last breath.”

He kissed your forehead softly again, pressing his lips to your skin longer than expected as he tried to make the most of those last moments with you.

“You’re the best and most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. I love you, always and forever,” he kept whispered, hugging you. But you couldn't hug him back.

You had closed your eyes and fallen asleep, in the arms of the person you loved most in the world where you always wished your last moments would be.

The room was filled with sounds from the monitor connected to your heart, which had started to slow down.

Your heartbeat had slowed.

More and more.

Until it stopped and all that was left was a flat line.

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[funficwriter]

A Wolf And A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

A little dark fairy tale I want to write~

A/N: GOOD GOLLY I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS! First off, let me warn you that this is a multi-chapter story. Each one gets more and more dark, this is just the light stuff (in comparison to what I have planned). I will do my best to have C2 out ASAP, but as I'm a grad student, it might be a while. But be assured that I am very excited for this story, so I'll do my best to write loads for it!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy and fake niceness, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings for this chapter: Sexist marriage system, yandere Wriothesley, kinda OOC Wriothesley, yandere fem!reader, mention of sexual blackmailing (1)

Chapter 1: A Breakthrough

As a child, you loved reading. Your parents would worry about it, because while being articulate and cultured were good and necessary, you were still a girl of one of Fontaine's royal families. They didn't want you asking questions you should not, but all they could do was limit your selection by a margin you wouldn't doubt.

You liked fairy tales of all sorts. They were so intriguing through several concepts. The one that got the lion's share of your attention was love. So many of your stories ended the same way that made you warm and fuzzy: The girl is reunited with the boy she loves, he declares the same, and they're together forever. How sweet!

When you asked further about love, you'd get one of two answers. The first was: "Look at your mother and father. That's love.". However, it failed to satisfy you; While they were courteous to each other, and even made contact every now and then, they were so... Cold in comparison to your fairy tales. The dissonance could confuse an adult, never mind a child.

The second was: "Love is essentially your marriage! Once you're a little older, you'll have suitors competing for your hand, and one will be your love!".

Marriage. A funny little word that you so desperately wanted to understand beyond the technical definition. Being the daughter of a baron, you were practically raised with the word more than your parents telling you that they loved you. While a baron was among the lower royal titles, it was still a part of Fontainian royalty. Ergo, you had to take marriage seriously. Of course, marrying above your father's rank (cough, cough- A high-ranked Count or Duke-) was a pinnacle of success.

When you came of age, many predicted that you'd fare well. You were quite pretty, and with the elite tutoring you have received, you were poised, graceful... You were ready to socialize not as the baron's cute daughter, but as the lovely young Lady Balthazar, considering suitors.

Only, they missed one thing. That perfect girl I mentioned would care about love, but being a good girl, she'd prioritize standing, finances, power and the like beyond it. While you liked being taken care of, that wasn't enough. You wanted to marry like the girls in fairy tales. For your world being flipped upside down in the most beautiful way. For love.

------------------

"Oh, remember Baron Balthazar's little daughter? She's now a maiden!".

"I saw her! She had truly inherited her grandmother's legendary beauty! I nearly choked when I first saw her-".

"And her mind is just as gorgeous! Earlier, we got to talk about Fontainian literature. I've never met such a cultured girl her age!".

It's not like you hated the praises. The party as a whole was just that: Okay. You met many unwed nobles, each being more shocked with you. With each one, your father beamed a little brighter, your mother squealed a little higher, to the point where you started questioning if there was a time where they were this happy with you.

"The nobles are enamored. Many are Dukes or Counts! This is going better than I imagined!".

Your mother turned to you: "Well, dear? Aren't you happy? Not many maidens have the opportunity to brag about bagging such important persons as you did.".

Again, nothing wrong with the (potential) suitors in particular. Everyone was nice and well-mannered, some even interesting to talk to. You'd love to have such friends, and that was your issue; Your feelings towards them did not go beyond: "I'd like being his friend.". No spark of attraction, no coup de foudre, nothing that could kickstart the feeling of love you wanted to chase, yet seldom had an idea of. With time, this would get boring. Would you really have to marry someone you found boring?

Alas, you knew the answer deep down. Unless the best suitor was also someone you fell for, you'd be lucky to go with someone you kinda liked. As you grew older, you realized that most marriages within your class were business deals, not affairs of love. Your own mother admitted that she married your father to consolidate the union between the two families.

When you were younger, you often asked her if she loved him. She'd say 'yes' without a second thought. Now, as you were heading into this, she'd tell you: "Yes, but what does it matter next to the benefits you enjoy today?".

"Mother, can I please go grab a cupcake? I didn't eat yet.".

"Alright then! Just remember, be sociable and talk as much as you can, and eat gracefully! Just like we said, and-"

"I will, I promise!".

The last thing you felt like was another etiquette lesson. At least you had some luck with food; There was one more chocolate cupcake left, and no one else seemed interested. Perhaps it would cheer you up a bit.

Celestia works in funny ways, though. Just as you reached out for it, another gloved hand landed on its other side, immediately stopping with yours. Despite your hunger, your attention diverted to the silver glove. All the men here were nobles, so he had to be too. You never saw one wearing chains and a wolf as an insignia, of all animals.

"Oh... Forgive me, I-"

Once you heard that baritone, there was no going back. You looked up to see a man quite unlike the preppy nobles you had to entertain all night. His scarred, rough appearance enthralled you more, for it was unlike anything you ever saw. And perhaps it was out of unfamiliarity, but you thought him quite gorgeous in comparison to the others.

"Oh, erm- Good evening, my Lord! Terribly sorry if I interrupted your break...".

"...No, no. It's fine, young lady, you can have it.".

"But... Um..."

The ensuing awkwardness was unbearable, but an idea emerged into your head. You split the cupcake, making sure it didn't crumb too much, then handed him one half: "Here you go, my Lord.".

He revealed a stunned expression, as if seeing something for the first time. Then he smiled and accepted the half. The grin was the most beautiful you saw on a man. It made your heart beat faster, and despite the fall, you felt stuffy and hot in that moment.

Just what the hell was going on?

"Um... May I inquire as to who you might be?".

"Of course, young Lady Balthazar. I am Wriothesley, from the Fortress of Meropide.".

You almost choked upon hearing his name. That's Duke Wriothesley! Is he? When you heard of him, you imagined a scary, much older man who didn't socialize much. On the rare occasion he did, he'd probably be left alone, with no social opportunity. And yet here you were, sharing a cupcake with him, accepting his leaning into you to listen... Among his tousled hair, the wolf ears perked your interest, too.

"I see! Forgive my surprise. It's just that I only ever heard of you."

"Don't worry, I understand.".

He was so... Appealing. You wanted those icy eyes on you. You wanted the excitement, the joy they cause by being posed on you. The only way to do that was have his attention. So you were done with awkwardness for now, and decided to try to chat.

"So, what brings you out on this fine night, Your Grace?".

"As you see, I spend most of my time in the Fortress. I don't socialize much, but I thought I needed a change of scenery.".

"That's good for the soul, I presume. How do you feel about the festivities?".

That grin was going to be the death of you, but better that than boredom. On one hand, you hoped you wouldn't be diagnosed with palpitations by the end of the night. On the other, you'd happily have a heart attack if it meant he smiled at you more.

"I should be asking you that. You're the star of this party, are you not? As soon as I walked in, all I heard was raving about the Balthazars' youngest daughter.".

"But there are many young, pretty girls walking around. Any of them could be the lady in question. How did you know it was me?".

"Accurate descriptions. I also heard the young Lady Balthazar is of the court's most empathetic. One sharing her favorite pastry sounds like that.".

You were having such a good time with him. You couldn't help laughing: "To be fair, I wouldn't want anyone to be deprived of chocolate when it's there.".

It was his turn to chuckle.

Please never stop laughing, or talking, or breathing. Please keep leaning my way. Please keep liking chocolate so we can share. Actually, stay with me for the rest of the night. Oh Focalors, please please please let him send Father a declaration of courting, and let him approve because I don't see a ring and I don't know why I like him so much-

As you carried on friendly conversation, something in you kept the train of thought going. You liked this man a lot... More than many other men you've met. More than any other man, maybe. He was funny, for one. He had no problem eliciting laughter from you. Like all the other nobles, he liked tea and music and engaged in politics. But he asked you lots of questions and heard you out. You even tried detecting a hint of surprise or disgust that you occasionally received, had you talked too much; None was found.

The real sealer was when he liked literature. But unlike the other nobles, he didn't just read the few titles that trended or made a name. He read, and so did you.

"This is the first time I've told someone I like lycanthrope literature and received a kind response.".

"And it's my first time seeing someone be appreciative of lycanthrope artistic culture, especially the books. Have you read Tale of a Toy-Making Werewolf? What did you think of the ending?".

He was amazing. He was awesome and charming and everything good. You were about to voice out your thoughts, until you heard murmurs behind you that maybe were meant to be heard.

"Not to be judgmental, but young Lady Balthazar has spent quite a bit of time with Lord Wriothesley...".

"Earlier she talked with many other fine gentlemen, like Duke Archandelle or Count Evermore... Why is she sticking onto him, of all people? I mean, he's a fine gentleman, but you know how it looks for a maiden...".

"Hehehe! I wonder what Baron Balthazar will think of this arrangement?".

His ears perked up at the gossip, and for the first time throughout your encounter, he scowled. He couldn't do so at them, lest your name gets dragged in worse mud. He liked you a lot, too much to make you get in trouble for him. But by the stars, how he wanted to. After years of stillness, he found someone who just... Understood him. Liked him off the bat, showed promise of the greater bond he's been looking for, for years. Then here comes those stupid 'good, high class girl' rules to halt your interaction.

Celestia, he looks terrifying and gorgeous.

"Listen, if you wish to take some distance, please don't feel ashamed about it. I understand how... Ruthless the rules for socializing are for a blossoming lady.".

"No.".

Your look towards the gossipers barely lasted a minute, as if they were barely worth your gaze. You looked back up at him: "I want to stay with you, but I'm not sure how. Oh. Wait...".

You took off to your mother's, and made it a point to say hi to Count Evermore again, just for good measure. A part of you couldn't believe you were doing this, screaming at you to abort the plan. You could get in trouble if you were found out, but hey, they wanted you to meet men and marry. You wanted to marry someone you loved. Maybe with time, you could find a middle ground, starting with this action.

"Mom, I talked to Count Evermore again.".

"Wonderful, wonderful, dear! Be sure to give some attention to Duke Arya, and-".

"I will, but I might faint from the stuffy air. I just need a minute in the powder room to fix myself up.

She didn't look too pleased, half expecting this: "But you were gone just now.".

"But I socialized, and I will continue once I'm back.".

"Well, alright then. I guess you should take a minute to look nice. Be back sooner than Duke Arya leaves.".

You took off, desperate to find Wriothesley again. You had to entertain a few nobles, but did so meagerly. You didn't want them. You wanted Duke Wriothesley, Lord of the Fortress of Meropide, Keeper of Justice and (not officially but kinda by existing) Advocate for Hybrid Rights.

Speak of the devil, he appeared in your vision again. He immediately lost interest in the art in front of him. You nodded towards the door and took off before anyone else could huddle you up.

Oh. Oh, he got it. You weaseled a way and some time for you. Truly, there's more to you than what meets the eye. He loved how such an angelic-looking, (supposedly) pure noble girl could lie as such to see him. The smirk at the thought did not leave his face.

"I know the roof is pretty private, Your Grace. Let's head there.".

"Actually, there's a stop I wanted to make first. Follow me.".

You both headed off to the kitchen. You were a little confused at the choice. It was still crowded, so you could get caught. He told you to wait outside for a bit.

"Wriothesley! We could get caught here!".

This was far too amusing. Far too much.

"First, you pay more attention to one man over everyone else in the ballroom, during your own coming of age party. Then, you lie to your parents to spend extra unchaperoned time with that man. After that, you call him by his first name in the same night. You haven't ceased to surprise me, little maiden.".

Your first instinct was to be ashamed. He had a point; Your behavior was not that of the pristine lady you had to be. But when you gathered your courage and looked up, he was smiling. Any other noble would either be fuming, ready to snitch on you, or blackmailing you through... Unsavory means. He smiled like troublemakers do when they carry something out successfully.

In retrospect, that's what you were doing right now.

"We will go to the roof, but just wait for me. For a few minutes. Since you got us out, I promise you won't get caught here. I'll be quick.".

He retreated into the kitchen. Your mind barely had the time to entertain scary thoughts of getting caught, because he came back just as quick, carrying a black package. You both took off for the roof.

As soon as you got there, you both sat down. Wriothesley undid the package in front of you. Right before the contents were revealed, he couldn't help his grinning, thinking of your reaction. Just when was the last night someone made him smile this much?

"What is it?".

"Your parents ought to look into better catering for their next party.".

In the box were cupcakes, truffles, cookies and many other chocolate desserts. Dark, white, mild, you name it.

You burst out into laughter, much to his initial confusion. You laughed so hard, you could barely speak, until you caught your breath: "This is the first time I hear of a prison lord stealing sweets!".

He realized the comic element and joined in on your laughter, unsure what surprised him more: The girl underneath the 'fancy' facade, or how much fun he was having. How he missed it. How he wanted to have it everyday. It was clearer and clearer; He could make that happen, if you were his. Once he courted you, (hopefully) got your father's approval and married you, you two could laugh and have chocolate and talk about whatever the hell you wanted everyday. Until you died. Forever.

After you calmed down, you ate and talked more about books. He offered to loan you some from his own library, and you might have just been book buddies. If it weren't for you remembering your mother's 'imposed' countdown, you would have forgotten the very concept of time. What did it matter when you finally felt your heroines' red cheeks, and excitement burgeoning deep within?

"Y/N...".

"Yes?".

Both of you laid down, even if it meant risking your looks. The tiredness that took over your bodies did not stop the bullet-fire chatting between you two. However, his sudden lower tone made you feel special. All through the night, he was your 'partner in crime', and you felt like he was going to let you in on a conspiratorial secret.

"Do you have a private mailbox? Can I have your code, and you can have mine?".

The question. His rough tone. His hair, swept over his face. Above all, the fact that he wanted to talk to you further.

Your little heart burst on the spot.

YES! YES! YES, HAVE IT ALL!

"Sure. But you know, our correspondence would have to be a bit... Er, hidden. Depending on what happens.".

"I'll be forward. I don't think I can carry on without the contact I had tonight. In this one night, I had so much fun, I found what I was looking for for years. I know you found me stealing sweets rather comical, but believe me, I have long renounced petty crime.".

"I noticed. Wouldn't it have been easier to just buy them? Or ask the chef? I mean, you're a Duke, I doubt they can refuse you.".

"Perhaps. Though I'll be honest, I partly did it because you looked so sad when they ran out of chocolate.".

Once again, you laughed. It was such a trivial matter, but it had you thinking; If he cares this much about it, what would he do for greater ones?

He stood up and held out his hand to help you. One more look at the stars prompted his thoughts.

"I'll be sending Baron Balthazar a declaration of courting. While I may be a little different from the other nobles he may be expecting, I am still a Duke, and an important component of Fontaine's justice. I'm sure that will help me. And then... We can meet more. That's a good start.".

"Wriothesley... Please, please do. Tonight was nothing short of magical. If we can make it happen, I'll be the happiest girl in all of Fontaine. And I promise I'll be a good wife, and-".

He chuckled: "Slipping back into your manners, I see."

Only when you made it back and went your separate ways, so as to not cause suspicion, did your heart fill up with your usual boredom and gloom. He was not by your side anymore. Soon enough, Duke Arya gave you his boring talk of how gorgeous you are and his accomplishments. Like all the other men, nothing like Wriothesley. You only saw him once more, where he barely paid attention to you.

If looks could kill, Duke Arya would have been mutilated on the floor. You thought you saw him angry at the gossipers, that was nothing. No, this was all the rage, all the offense that could only be expressed by something beyond human. His hands clenched until a loud 'CLANG!' could be heard across the roof. Wine, glass and a bit of blood fell onto the floor.

"Lord Wriothesley broke a glass!".

"Well, he's not entirely human, is he? I hear... His kind are prone to these things.".

That barely mattered to Duke Arya, and less him. He couldn't have cared less before he started talking to you. Now that he took your eyes, your words, all of you, he was only a bit worse than the criminals at the Fortress. Much later did he calm down and remind himself that one way or another, no man would be crassly taking you away from him.

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen

AO3 Link

Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen…” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

Next Chapter

[shygirl4991]

Coffee Prince and The Frog Prologue

A Collab with @lizaluvsthis and @alianarepasa

Art for this chapter cover included done by @alianarepasa Next Chapter Kid SMG3 and Family Reference by alianarepasa SMG4 and SMG3 Outfit Reference by Lizaluvsthis Summary: SMG3 is a busboy with a dream to run his own cafe, he slaves away at his friends restaurant in hopes to save enough to open his cafe. But when a talking frog named SMG4 asks for a kiss to break a curse placed on him, the two will end up going on  a journey that will change their lives forever. 

Tags: slow burn, inspired by Disney princess and the frog, love confessions, falling in love, animal transformation, adopted family relationship, fluff, angst, voodoo

In a mansion deep in the mushroom kingdom lives the Fungo family, a small rich family where twin boys lived with their father Bootleg and mother lady Rosea. A knock was heard echoing through the mansion late in the night. One of the servants runs to the door and opens it only to see a basket with a baby inside, she runs to grab the lord of the house. He steps outside and picks up the child confused, seeing the note tape to the blanket he reads it “SMG3? What a strange name for a child,” the baby's eyes open catching the man's attention. When his eyes met with the child's ruby red eyes it was over, he walked inside screaming to his wife “HONEY WE HAVE A NEW SON!” “WE WHAT!?” she yells back startled by the sudden news.

Nine years passed since then, the castle was shrouded in darkness as the lord of the house mourned the loss of his wife. He looked at the family photo and knew he had to be strong for his sons, the struggle was the youngest. Over time the twins Mario and Luigi started to act more like themselves, but that young boy he took in was becoming trouble. He walks around the house and notices black paint staining the floor, he sighs following it and catches the child painting his crown. “Three, what are you doing?” the child freezes as he slowly turns and gives him a smirk as he flashes his golden crown now with a skull on it “I was fixing my crown, gold is so lame but now look how awesome it looks!” He squints at his son before letting out a sigh “Three that crown just wont work, we come from an important family you can't just walk around with a skull on your crown!” SMG3 pouts cleaning up the extra paint on the crown then stares at the skull on it. After a few moments of thinking he placed it on his head “Then maybe i want to do my own thing! Mom always told me being different isn't bad.”  Three gives his father a smile only to lose it when Bootleg snatches the crown from his head “I will get this cleaned, now get ready it's almost story time you know your brother hates to miss it.” 

He watches his father walk away and sighs as he drags himself to Luigi’s room, seeing his younger brother Luigi pull Three in for a hug causing the younger sibling to panic and struggle to break free from the sudden affection. Luigi let's go giving a bright smile to him “Why so down?” “Dad didn't like my idea of adding a cool design to our crowns, what's wrong with wanting a skull on my crown! Ugh now he is going to read us gross love stories.” he groans sitting on the floor. He never cared for fairy tales; he rather sat down and read scary stories then listened to how some chick gave up her life for a dude she fell for to be happy with someone else. Luigi frowns “But love stories are amazing Three, the idea of going on some grand adventure with someone and falling for them how does that sound gross?” SMG3 lays on the floor staring at the green curtains thinking on how to explain to his brother. 

“If I learn anything from these stories dad read us, romance is all flowers and sunshine you have to sacrifice everything for some random person cause oh no my heart skips a beat! Maybe go get checked by a doctor if your heart is doing that idiot!”  Once he was done explaining he closed his eyes waiting for a reaction. His brother sighs sitting next to him “I think finding that certain someone is amazing, someone that just understands you where no one else can.” 

It took Three everything in him to not make a sarcastic remark, he opened his eyes and stared at the door. His father was taking too long meaning that Mario found the stash of pasta in the mansion again, his older brother was never the same after eating spaghetti in that party they went to last week. All he ever talks about is how he wants more spaghetti then throws a tantrum if he doesn't get any, if anything would be a fun fairytale to read it be the love story with his brother and the food.

The door swings open revealing their father with Mario tied up behind him “Story time kids!” Mario shakes his head trying to worm himself away “NO THAT'S GAY!” their father sighs, picking up the child “Mario don't say things like that around Three!” “Too late my mind has been filled with so much i dont think Mario’s high IQ talk can save me,” he chuckles earning a glare from his father.

He drops Mario next to his siblings as he takes out a book “Today’s story is princess and the frog,” hearing the title Three gets up excited, he remembers how his mother used to read him the story before bed. He never did understand how throwing a frog to a wall helped break a curse but it worked so who was he to judge how magic works. His dad smiled at him, surprised to see the young one finally interested in a story, as he kept reading that excitement was draining from the child's face.  Three was now laying on the floor asking for someone to take him away from the cringe, Luigi was in love with the story, and Mario was trying to eat the rope to break free. 

“The ugly little frog looked up with sad, round eyes and pleaded ‘oh please, dear princess, only a kiss from you can break this terrible spell that was inflicted on me by a wicked witch!’ the beautiful princess was so moved by his desperate plea that she stooped down, picked up the slippery creature and kissed him!” He smiles at the kids to see their reaction. Luigi giggled at the sweet story while SMG3 sat there eyes wide at his father, Mario gave up on escaping and fell asleep during the story.

Luigi got up and hugged his dad. “That was an amazing story, I hope I meet my frog prince.” SMG3 shakes his head running up to his older brother “ARE YOU SERIOUS?! KISSING A FROG WHAT IF YOU GET WARTS!" Three stare’s with disgust. Luigi shakes his head "Frogs don't give warts three," he turns to his brother "DOES SHE KNOW THAT?"

Luigi giggles at his brother's panic and pulls him into a hug “When it comes to love why not take that risk! Maybe you will get it when you meet your frog prince and or princess!”  SMG3 blushes trying to escape the hug, the thought of kissing a frog grossed him out and had no idea why his brother wanted to curse him with a frog. Their father chuckles, “Hey the princess won at the end the frog became a handsome prince!” 

Finally free from the hug Three glares at his father “Yeah cause man i just met that was a frog a second ago really yells marriage material!”  Bootleg sighs slamming the book shut “When you hit your twenties i expect you to change that tone!” SMG3 pouts at his fathers stern tone before they all get told to go to bed. Mario cheers being set free and runs off full speed on the hunt, Bootleg sighs as he starts to chase after Mario. SMG3 waves goodbye at his brother before heading to his room, changing into his skull pj’s he hops into bed and smiles softly at his frog plush “Oh Terrance, when will dad get that these fairytales are so lame! You know…mom understood,” he hears a bark making him sit up and squeal “Come here!” a small egg shaped dog jumps into Three’s arms excitedly. He loves his brother’s but there is nothing more comforting than a cuddle session with Eggdog. 

Slowly he falls asleep with Eggdog in his arms not hearing the door to his room open, Mario looks around and sneaks in, taking SMG3 plushie and running out of the room giggling. The door slams, waking Three up, he looks around the room with Eggdog and notices his plushie missing “What?” Mario was giggling as he thought of a perfect prank to do to his twin, since his brother was so into kissing frogs he was going to get his brother to kiss the frog plushie. The twist is he will have put hot sauce on the lips of the plushie, he keeps sneaking down the hallway till he hears barking. Turning around his eyes go wide seeing SMG3 charging down the hallway “HEY! LEAVE TERRANCE ALONE!” Mario takes a step back before running away from Three. 

Three growls as he charges at his older brother “Give him back!” Eggdog catches up biting Mario’s pants, in one swift movement Three grabs the arm of the plushie. SMG3 glares at Mario “LET GO MARIO YOUR GONNA BREAK IT YOU IDIOT!” Then it happens, the arm starts to tear causing Three’s eyes to go wide. Before he has a chance to let go the arm of the frog plush arm rips off, SMG3 falls to his knees with the arm in his hands. His eyes start to water causing Mario to panic “Mario can fix it look!” He takes the arm from Three and tries to shove the arm back into the plush. His attempt to fix the plushie only broke it more, seeing this Three break into tears “I HATE YOU MARIO!”

Panicking he runs and grabs his twin “LUIGI! SMG3 IS CRYING HELP!” Luigi sees the broken plush and pulls three for a hug “It’s okay Three dad can buy you a new one.” Hearing this, Three pulled away and wiped his tears glaring at his older brother “I don't want a new one! HE IS MY BEST FRIEND WHY DO YOU ALL THINK BUYING STUFF FIXES EVERYTHING!” he grabs his broken plushie and runs off to his room crying.

He sits on his bed wiping his tears, there had to be a way to fix his buddy. He sniffs as he thinks to himself, he walks to a drawer and gets tape “It’s okay Terrance i will fix ya buddy, Eggdog guard the door and don't let those people in.” Bootleg runs out of his room to see two of his sons panicking in the hallway, he pinches the bridge of his nose before calming them down. “Okay you two why are you freaking out in the hallway..did Mario do the pasta prank again?” He looks at his two kids. They go silent and seem scared, slowly he turns looking at the black door down the hallway “What did you two do to Three?” The twins both start speaking at the same time explaining what happened to the plushie making the man sigh as he walks over to Three’s room. 

He knocks on the door, Eggdog starts barking letting the child know someone was there annoyed he finishes taping the arm back on to his plushie. He then opens the door surprised to see his father “Heard about Terrance, you know son i have told you before that broken things are better off replaced but since this is Terrance i will get someone to fix him.” SMG3 looks up at his father with excitement “REALLY!?” Bootleg chuckles and pats his son's head “Yes, and I think you're old enough to finally pick your family hat, I'm thinking purple letter T?” 

Three pouts “No..that's lame i'm not like Mario and Luigi, can i just finally pick something thats…me?” Bootleg wasnt a fan of that idea knowing what the child might pick. After some thought he nods, Three jumps in excitement and hugs his father. 

The next day SMG3 dressed up making sure his vest was on right, they all stood together for a family portrait before heading out. Three was excited to pick out his hat, as far as he knows the families that have any kind of royal connections get a hat that they wear till the moment they get married and get a crown as a replacement. He didn't care so much about the crown, but the idea of having a hat made for him and no one can say anything about it excited him. That was till they arrived and all he was shown were classy hats that looked too fancy for his taste, he turned looking at his older brothers wearing their hats and frowns.

He sighs walking around the shop when he notices a halloween section, where his eyes meet with a purple cap with a skull on a black background on it. He picks it up and puts it on his head, he runs off to his father showing the hat “I found it! My forever hat!”  His father frowns seeing the skull on it “You…sure?” He gave a bright smile to his father, unable to say no to the smile he walked up to the cashiers and bought the hat. Three hugs his dad “I love you dad!” Bootleg chuckles hugging his son back. What they didn't know was this year was the last year SMG3 and his father would be this close. 

Twelve years later The alarm rings, a now twenty one year old SMG3 smacks it off and gets out of bed. He picks up his hair in a ponytail and washes his face, after brushing his teeth he puts on his casual wear, can never beat the classic overall look. He gives a quick smooch to Eggdog as he dashes into the kitchen to grab something fast to eat. Mario was already deep into his spaghetti while Luigi was waiting at the table to hand his brother his lunch for work. Three dashes into the kitchen and takes the lunch “Thanks, and Bootleg doesn't know where I'm working yet right? I need to warn my friends soon about him ugh.” Luigi giggles, giving Three a small pat. “He acts the way he does because you are so much like mom, he is worried you might get in trouble.”

SMG3 rolls his eyes “The only thing that asshole cares about is marrying us off, no thank you! Now work calls later losers!”  He gives his brothers a peace sign before leaving the mansion, he shivers slightly feeling the wind. He didn't mind feeling the cold after all he got to pick what to wear, not his overbearing father, he starts his walk to work humming to himself his favorite song from the beetlejuice musical. He pauses when he sees a crowd of women cheering excitedly, turning his head he sees a fancy ship was arriving “Oh yeah, that idiot prince is coming over ugh great these fangirls are going to make me late!” he looks around and chuckles as he lights a small firework that was in his pocket and tossed it. The firework then lands on a fire hydrant exploding and breaking it causing the water to splash on the crowd, he laughs seeing everyone running from the water worried about their makeup. Some of the women notice him and glare “Of course you would do this Three, why do you always have to bother us!?”

SMG3 shrugs “I don't know Belle, why don't you start using waterproof eye liner like I do,” she flips him off in which he returns the favor as he runs off to work. As he arrives Bob smacks his back “ABOUT TIME THE BOSS HAS BEEN BITCHING ABOUT YOU.” Three frowns as he looks at the back room, slowly he approaches and sees no one there but a frog toy. He picks up the toy to hear Bob laughing behind him “GET PRANKED! HEARD A RUMOR YOU HAVE A THING FOR FROGS!” SMG3 turns and tosses the toy at Bob “Countdown from five cause I'm going to kick your ass!” 

In a panic bob runs out of the room leaving Three alone, he sighs and sits on the couch “Thanks Luigi for telling people about our dad always reading that stupid story,” he takes out a piece of paper and unfolds it to reveal a drawing he did of a cafe “Remember why your doing this Three, we will own our dream cafe and no one can stop us. We will earn this, I will never accept his help.” His eyes drop to the frog toy in front of him and chuckles “And I don't need to kiss any frogs either!”  with that he gets up and gets ready for work. 

[dreamofjoys]

yandere! malleus draconia / my child of man

genre: yandere, smut, fem reader , spoilers for main story chapter 5

summary: the dark fae prince has been obsessing over you for the past few months, but has been struggling to convey his love obsession towards you. the kind and generous lilia decided to step in and help malleus. 

“how about getting her pregnant? think about it, you are one of the most powerful mage in twisted wonderland. moreover, you are the crown prince of valley of thorns. to gift her your royal seed, wouldn’t she feel happy and touched by your actions? to humans, making love to each other and building a family together is an act of love after all. i am sure that she would be willing to be yours for eternity.” 

tw: delusional malleus, drugging (aphrodisiac), usage of love spell, usage of sleeping spell, booby fucking, vaginal bleeding, usage of vaginal plug, forced pregnancy, non consensual, breeding, malleus went for a lot of rounds, loss of virginity 

in the gloomy halls of diasomnia, there stood malleus, looking out at the window, staring at the gloomy skies. a small frown was plastered on his face as he thinks about you. he has been wanting to tell you about he feel towards you, but doesn’t know how to.

for the past few months, he has been watching you. he saw how you made friends from heartslaybul, savanaclaw, octaville,  scarabia, pomofiere and ignihyde. the dorm leaders seems to be on good terms with you, often exchanging greetings and visiting ramshackle to check up on you.

malleus clenched his fist tight as a lighting strikes down at the tree in the forest right outside diasomnia. he is jealous. it should be him that you are focusing on, not those lowly creatures who couldn’t protect you and puts you in danger when they overblot.

the diasomnia students who walked past their dorm leader has immediately fleed to their room, locking their door and praying that they would all somehow survive the day. an angry malleus is something that the whole diasomnia wants to avoid.

“malleus,” the vice dorm leader has spotted the gloomy prince, and decided to ask him about it. “calm down, you are scaring the students with your thunder and lightning. what’s wrong?”

“my child of man, i want her.”

lilia chuckled at the boy’s comment. oh, he knows where this is going. he has seen the way malleus looks at you, the fire in his eyes burns in a noble green, filled with desire, lust and obsession. lilia knows that malleus is obsessed with you, but does nothing about it, only waiting for malleus to snap and make his move to claim you.

“i have seen the way you have looked at her, malleus. may i give you a suggestion?” malleus stares at his caregiver, silently cueing him to continue.

“how about getting her pregnant? think about it, you are one of the most powerful mage in twisted wonderland. moreover, you are the crown prince of valley of thorns. to gift her your royal seed, wouldn’t she feel happy and touched by your actions? to humans, making love to each other and building a family together is an act of love after all. i am sure that she will be willing to be yours for eternity.”

malleus’s eyes widens at lilia’s suggestion, but soon, a small smile replaces it. that’s right, how could he have not thought of that? a child made from both you and him.

ever since you gave him the nickname tsunotarou, he has already fallen for you. this must be a fairy tale right? malleus has been lonely for his whole life. and suddenly, he meets you. the one and only magicless human in this prestigious school. the best part of all this? you don’t know who he is at all! you have no idea how happy he was when you gave him a nickname, and treated him normally like no one else did.

even when his true identity got revealed during VDC,  you still continued to call him by your given nickname, and accompany him to watch gargoyles like you guys would normally did.

child of man, you made him so happy, and he makes you happy too, right? you always laugh at his jokes and always stuck by him despite the rumours about him. yes, the both of you are destined to be together.

“thank you, lilia. you may go off now.” lilia only bowed and happily skipped towards his room. it looks like he should start preparing to be a grandfather now.

-

a few days later, malleus knocked on your door, equipped with your favourite ice cream. “tsunotarou? what are you doing here?” you opened the door wider, allowing the dark fae into your house, which is probably one of the biggest mistakes that you have made. “i brought some ice cream for you, i thought that you would like it.”

malleus blushed at the sight of you wearing only an oversized t-shirt and short pants. you look so small, cute and fragile... so easy to devour. he can’t wait to lay out the plans that he have for you. 

“oh thank you so much tsunotarou! i was just craving for ice cream.” you took the ice cream from him and started eating it. “come in! you can sit on the sofa.” you promptly invited malleus to sit beside you on the sofa as you busied yourself with the ice cream.

“so.. what brings you here today?” you turned to malleus, expecting to see him going about his gargoyle talk. but then, your vision blurs. your head was spinning and everything feels shaky.

“hu-huh...?” confused, you reached out to malleus, hoping that he would grab you before you fall to the ground. malleus pulls you into his arms and carries you back into your room. 

your whole body feels like its on fire, and there’s an unsettling pool of heat on your private region. you wanted to- no, you needed to have something inside you. something big that will fill up your vagina. 

you couldn’t see what expression malleus was making, but he was smirking at your trembling form, knowing that you would not be able to resist him if he takes you tonight. consensual or not, he will claim you officially as his.

throwing you onto your bed, he starts casting his magic around the dorm, he made sure to use noise cancellation magic and that all doors are locked. unfortunately for you, grimm was out in the heartslaybul dorm today, so is just you alone to deal with a 2 metre tall dragon fae. 

malleus’s cocks was already throbbing. while he was on his way to ramshackle, all he could think about was how he should breed you properly, how you would look like all naked while being a moaning mess under him. just, what kind of expression will you make when he slam his cocks into you? 

without any warning, malleus stripped your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. the cold air hits your skin as you shivered, wondering what’s going on.

“mal-malleus? what’s go-going on? what are you go-going to do?” your voice was shaking, mostly due to the effect of whatever that was in the ice cream, and also fear of what malleus is going to do to you.

“child of man.....” malleus climbed on top of you, taking in your figure and letting his hands run along it. he leans into your ear, and whispers to you about his grand plan. 

“that ice cream has aphrodisiac in it. i want to make our first sexual experience a pleasant one. i am going to breed you full today and make sure that you are pregnant by the end of the session. then, we will go to valley of thorns, get married and live there happily ever after. i will officially claim you as mine today. i love you so much, my child of man. and i know that you love me too.”

“n-no, don’t do this malleus! i don’t want to get pregnant and i don’t love you at all!” you started panicking and attempted to push malleus away, but your strength was no match for him. malleus only chuckles, and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear.

“is okay love, i know that you are nervous cause this is your first time. however, i feel like you are going to resist a lot during this session. i... just have the right spell for you to help you relax.” malleus, doesn’t give you a chance to respond or fight back. with a wave of his hand, green waves of magic looms into you. and suddenly, you grabbed onto malleus’s shoulder, green hearts appeared on your eyes as you started whining and begging.

“malleus! i love you so much! please touch me and put your dicks inside me! i want to be the mother of your child!” ah, malleus knew that you would eventually come around. it doesn’t even bother him about the fact that he just casted a love spell on you. hearing you spew out those lewd words that he has always wanted to hear, it convinces him more that you love him so so much. he should definitely start on his plan now. 

“malleus! hurry up and breed me!” with that, malleus ripped off your undergarments, throwing it somewhere on the floor. his clothes were off instantly as he grabbed both of his dicks and align it on your chest. “use your boobs and rub on my cocks, dear.” you squished your boons and rub it on malleus’s cocks as he groaned, riding you on your chest. his hand travels down to your clit, rubbing it aggressively, determining to pleasure you.

you arched your back and moaned out loud. malleus’s cock was literally right in front of your face and yet you wanted more. you needed it inside of you no matter what. “please just put it in!” you cried out loud. the side effects of the aphrodisiac were getting into you. you felt so empty, and you wished that malleus would just fill you up already.

“so impatient, but who am i to deny my future wife?” in an instant, malleus bend your legs so that your knees were on your chest. he instantly slammed both of his cock into you, causing you to scream at the sudden intrusion. he was so big, stretching your velvety walls to the point that you could feel your vagina bleeding. even when a small amount of blood oozes out of your hole and coats on both of his dicks, malleus doesn’t care. his objective is to breed you with his royal seeds and make you his. 

despite the immense amount of pain on your lower region, the aphrodisiac has made you even more sensitive and aroused by simple gestures. malleus pinches your nipples, demanding you to profess your love to him. “i love you malleus i love you! i love you more than anything in this world!” if anyone were to look at the both of you right now, they would have just assumed that it was just a passionate couple making love to each other, without any love spell involved. 

“child of ma-man, you take in me so well.” malleus grunts, staring down at the area where the both of you are connected. his cocks sliding in and out of you, balls hitting on your ass, his skin slapping against yours.. it was such an erotic sight that he wants this to last forever. 

when your walls started clenching around him tighter than before, he knew that you were about to come. he too, could feel himself finally releasing his royal seeds inside you. with your knees touching your chest, he moved to place both of your legs on his shoulders as he leans down and presses his forehead against yours.

“say that you love me and only me. say that you would never ever leave me.” 

even if you don’t love malleus, even if you know that by the end of the day, you would eventually leave him to go back to your own world, the love spell doesn’t let you think about any of these things, but only malleus.

“i only love you malleus! and i would never leave you, never!” 

“cum with me, love.” with one big loud slam, the tip of his cocks touches your cervix as the both of you cummed together. he stopped for a moment, allowing his seeds to slowly fill up your womb. 

when he pulls out, some of his cum mix with yours and a little blood leaks out. malleus frowns. even though he has two cocks that cums simultaneously at the same time, this is still not enough. 

he needs to fill you up more, make sure that your belly is round and swollen with his cum first, which will be later on replaced with a child. yes.. a child, that’s born from the two of you. a physical child to represent the love between the both of you, and start a happy family with you! 

adrenaline pumps through his veins again, as he once again thrust into you, not caring if you are okay or not. that night, he has no idea how many rounds he have went. 30 rounds? 80 rounds? 100 rounds? despite your hazy mind, all you could remember is a pair of slit green eyes glowing, your pussy being ruined and split apart, and the smell of his cum that you would never forget. 

by the time you woke up, two weeks has already passed from that night. you sat up on the bed, looking through the unfamiliar room that you are in. “this is our room now, dear.” malleus whispers into your ear and hugs you from behind. you didn’t even realised that he was on the same bed as you. 

you freezed, memories of that night slowly came back. though drugged, you could only remember a few details; that you hoped is just a nightmare.

“wh-what happened?” you stuttered, feeling afraid of the events that are going to happen.

malleus pouts at your comment. “oh you don’t remember? you passed out while we were making love. i made sure to still continue after that and fill you up with my royal seeds. you look so full back then, as if you were pregnant. just like now......”

you looked at him, confused. his hand travels to your swollen belly and rubs it affectionately. “when i brought you back to valley of thorns, the doctor has declared you to be pregnant with our child. i heard that human mothers are weak, so i cast a sleeping spell on you, to let you rest. hm, isn’t it wonderful? you are finally mine and we can finally be happy together.” 

you started trembling in his hold, feeling scared, shocked and betrayed. you? pregnant? what did you ever do to the gods for them to give you such a fate? and out of all people, malleus was the one who took your virginity and landed you on such a state. malleus noticed your reaction and only laughs. his other hand travels down to your clothed clit and rubbed on it. that’s when you realised that there’s something.... inside you? 

“oh by the way... there’s still some of my seeds left inside you,  i made sure to plug you up so that none of them will come out. i hope you understand that i want more than one child... after all, don’t you think that is a little sad to be a single child?” 

[daylite-writes]

arlecchino and any character you want with a pretty mermaid/fairy s/o to show off

“Falling Tides” — Yandere!Alrlechinno x Mermaid!Reader

After an incident with Fontaine’s mechanical fishing boats, you are left to rely on humans to help you heal. Unfortunately, all of them don’t have good intentions.

cw: drugging, implied kidnapping, drowning (kinda? Reader has gills but is held underwater against her will for a sec),

~~~

“The beauty of my homeland can never be overstated, but darling, you must be the pinnacle of it all…” She said, stepping forward to lift your chin with the tips of her claws. The strange woman smiled as you said nothing, pulling away to pace the edge of your… pool? Tank?

You’d been there a few days, slowly healing ever since your bloody encounter with Fontaine’s overly mechanical fishing boats. It had almost ground your tale to its bones. Luckily, the workers saw you struggling against the machine and pulled you free before more than a few long bloody scrapes across your tail and a couple dozen scales lost.

“Hello…?” you croaked out, trying to speak the difficult human language. It was always easier to listen than to speak it.

“Hello.” She smiled down at you, towering over you from where you swam in the pool.

“Here to help?” You asked, not quite knowing how to ask if she was one of the doctors or not.

“I suppose.”

So she was! Victoriously, you grinned, shark teeth flashing. “I'm going home soon?”

“Ah,” she grinned, coming down to kneel at the edge of the water, you swam up to her with little fear, meeting her face to face. Her eyes seemed to twinkle. “You must believe me to be one of the little doctors helping you recover. You are lucky mer are a species favored by the archon, otherwise you’d be left to the elements. Or to be ground up by their machines.”

The wistful sigh as she reached out to hold a lock of your hair confused you. “Not here to help?”

“No. Oh goodness no.” She shook her head, laughing slightly. “I just came to see you. Even as a little girl I dreamt of mermaids. So ethereal. So perfect.”

Her hands, clawed at the tip, reached out slowly to glide over the ends of your hair.

“I’d love to hear you sing, darling.”

With your limited understanding of human language, you couldn’t quite understand everything she said, but one word stood out. One you knew well. Sing.

“You want a song?” So that’s why she was here. Mer were no strangers to humans seeking them out to listen to their voice.

“Desperately.” She said, her voice breathy and low, eyes trained on you and only you.

“What song?”

“Anything. Anything so long as it comes from you.”

You nodded, before taking a deep breath.

The song was an echoing melody bare of any words, instead made up of flowing stretches of songs and whistles, like the whales that one roamed the land.

She gave a soft sigh.

When the song ended, you realized you had unconsciously closed your eyes, a common habit of yours. When you opened them though, you almost wish you hadn’t.

The woman looked ecstatic. No. Obsessed. Eyes wide, breath labored. Her face morphed into a grin. “Amazing. You’re simply amazing.”

She stood up, eyes still trained intensely on yours.

“Breathtaking.” She turned her head to the side, eyes locking onto something you couldn’t see. “Do it.”

Something clicked, and the water in your tank turned warm as the pipes released a dark, inky liquid into the water.

Alarmed, you looked around you with wide eyes. What was happening?

“Oh, I suppose I haven’t introduced myself. I am Arlecchino. You will know me well soon enough.”

You spun around to look up at her. She looked almost pleased. Didn’t she understand you were in danger?

“H-help!” You stuttered out, using your arms to hold onto the edge of the tank to lift your torso above the contaminated water.

“Unfortunately.” The clack of her shoes signaled her approach, but you didn’t dare look away from the rapidly darkening waters beneath you. “That is not what’s about to happen.”

She pushed you away from the edge, straight into the water. It tasted sweet and sticky in your lungs and gills.

She was a predator, not a friend, you realized then. You pulled back, turning away and diving into the deep end of your tank. You’d rather be in the contaminated tank than with her. Your voice was loud and clear even from under several feet of water. “Leave!”

“Oh hush.” Arlecchino said, pacing the edge of your tank. “It’s hardly dangerous.”

You blinked, slow. Heavy labored breaths brought the contaminant into your bloodstream quickly.

With your head pulsing and your vision swaying, it was no surprise you didn’t realize she entered your pool. You were far too busy trying to keep yourself away.

The ink in the water, that must be it. Deciding to take your chance with the woman above instead of the drugged water below, you made a move for the surface.

You didn’t make it. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, then a hand came up to hold your head still by the hair.

You thrashed, but Arlecchino held you under, your panic forcing you to breathe the sticky sweet flavor the water had taken on. If you were any less panicked, you’d have noticed the way one of her hands shifted to stroke down your ribs, sharp nails tracking the fluttering of your breath. Until all at once, your fighting stopped, and you laid limp in her arms.

The last thing you saw before floating away was a Cheshire grin as she finally, finally, lifted you free from the water.

~~~

an: sorry if.this took so long and isn’t quite what was asked for! I don’t often do stuff established relationships. Also just stuck to Arlechinno because I don’t have the brain juice to do two. Hope it was enjoyable though!

[lalal-99]

of timeless love {h.j.} | track 1

©March 2023, February 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: You and your annoyingly adorable boyfriend Jisung move off to university, to make new friends, find a calling and learn how to live on your own for the very first time in your lives.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I first thought of this story about a year and a half ago. I didn't feel ready at the time, but as I got better over the years, I picked this story up again. Updates might be slow, so bear with me please

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You, 6 years ago, wouldn’t have bought this romantic af, straight out of a fairy-tale storyline.

You going to University? With the love of your life? Like the picture-perfect couple, smiles glued to your face? Nuh-uh. Not you. Not in this lifetime and most likely not in the next dozen—if you ever were so unlucky.

Family, love, college. All of it was bullshit. Temporary.

Nothing good ever lasted. If anything, a dark twist was already lurking around the next corner at any given moment. You couldn’t imagine a dimension in which you were ever happy. Let alone content.

Your 14-year-old emo self would never grow out of the jet-black hair. Or the countless piercings decorating your face. Or those cole-coloured ripped skinny jeans you wore like a second skin. So much you knew. Past-you only ever wanted to gloom through life in a hazy blur. Depressed about My Chemical Romance breaking up and all the other hardships life had already put you through.

That girl would have despised who you had become. Hair grown back to its natural colour. Wearing shirts without some underground metal band’s logo printed on the front. That girl would have likely made fun of you for even thinking about grades. And your future? If you ever had one, your 14-year-old self knew it would include nothing but darkness and despair.

Every teenager around you went through that phase, though you were sure it was more than that. A phase. A short and survivable part of your story. You fully and whole-heartedly believed nothing would ever change about your attitude towards life. It couldn’t, not after everything that had happened.

Overcoming that horrible chapter of your life seemed unimaginable. That you even got the chance to reach out and grab your future by its horns only had one reason. One person who was to become the most meaningful part of your life. Of the same future, he was the reason you even considered having.

Han Jisung.

A boy of innocence and noisy introversion. A boy who, despite having lived through similar trauma as yourself, had a will for life toxic enough to capture you. A boy who you became sure was the closest thing to a soulmate you would ever find.

No one could have prepared you for how hard you’d fall for Jisung. You loved him at his best, worst, and everything between. And you had fallen in love with him despite his lousy sense of humour and silly persona. Or maybe, you had fallen for him because of it. Because he had a similar story to yours but an opposite look at it.

Your 14-year-old, always-depressed, doom-certain-self could have never imagined being with someone like him. Let alone being head-over.heels. All while doing what? Watching him do something so mediocre and none-life changing as buying toothbrushes?

“I don’t know. Which ones do you think?”

Jisung presented you two indistinguishable packs of toothbrushes, waking you from your daydream. Thus, the blurriness faded and your eyes focused on the tiny words on each cover.

“These,” you decided on the left option. “Those bristles are too hard for your gums.”

“Oh, we definitely can’t have that.” With a dramatically disgusted expression, he returned the wrong set to its place on the shelf. “I want to keep at least some of my teeth.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed with a snicker. His words cracked you up more than they should have.

No doubt, your 14-year-old self would have hated yourself six years later.

“Okay. What else is on that magic list of yours?”

“Microwave popcorn and some instant ramen. And we should get some notebooks and highlighters for tomorrow. That’s it.” You listed the remaining articles off the slip of paper while crossing out the products you had retrieved from the hygiene section. “Should we split up?”

“Nah. That’s how they die in horror movies. And I’m not going out in the food court of a 7/11.”

“Fair. How about the Back-to-School aisle then?”

Jisung pondered his reply as he wandered past toothpaste and mouthwash. “Too many pens for people to draw penises on my face. The cleaning section, however? That’s a whole other conversation.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s bleach and mops already. Also, buckets. So they can simply wheel my corpse away.”

As you walked by the pasta and other canned foods, you picked up a tray of ramen each. For convenience, if anything. Had it not been for the thinness of your wallet, you would have gone for fresher produce. So much for independent living.

With an intensive focus on your absurd conversation—Jisung listing places he would most likely die in if he were a character in a horror movie—you didn’t notice a tray of stacked goods blocking the path. It wasn’t until you bumped your shin on the square-edged tower that you finally took notice.

As a wave of pain swallowed your leg, you left out a shriek. “Gosh freakin’ dang it!”

“You good, baby?” His concern was genuine, though he couldn’t help smiling at your desperate attempt not to swear. “Let me see.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you, noticing a reddening wound once he had dragged the jean fabric up your leg.

“Just a bruise.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one feeling like your skin is being dragged off your flesh.”

“No. But I can make it better.”

He rose to his feet, arms hugging your frame as he picked you up without any effort. You giggled as he heaved you into the cart, careful not to squish the food.

“What are you doing?”

“No girlfriend of mine should have to walk when she’s in pain,” Jisung explained, helping you get settled. Pushing the crushable goods out of the way, you sat on the cans. Not the most comfortable seating, but it worked, nevertheless.

“Damn, those other girls are lu-cky.”

Jisung was pleased at how casually you had joined in on his joke. A smile formed on his lips as he pushed you along the shelves of seasonal produce.

You soon reached the Back-to-School aisle. There you took your sweet time deciding on notebook formats and highlighter colours. It kept surprising you how much fun it was to go grocery shopping when done with the right people. Everything was about 50 percent less boring because of Jisung. Jisung and his ability to find something ridiculous in anything and everything.

After you had made some other critical decisions—like which folders would make organising the year easiest, the ones with dogs or flowers in front—you finished up your school-supply-run.

When you reached the cash register, you noticed the strange looks the other customers gave you. Two young adults strolling through a supermarket, pushing each other in grocery carts? Definitely side-eye-worthy.

Maybe you would have cared more had you not been so enticed by Jisung’s mindless humming of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

“What?” Jisung questioned your glances as he started unloading the items from the cart.

“Nothing.” You joined him, unloading all the trays of food you had picked minutes earlier. “This feels weird. Going grocery shopping together. Feels grown-up somehow.”

“We go grocery shopping once a week,” he declared with a thoughtful pout.

“But that’s different.”

After you had emptied out your purchase, he wheeled you further down the band. The woman behind the cash register seemed equally interested in you as all the customers. Soon enough, she continued doing her job.

“You mean because we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves?” He held his hand to his heart as if heartbroken. “I miss your dad, too. Always so kind, paying for all our stuff.”

You chuckled at his playful sincerity.

“No, idiot.” As Jisung reloaded the cart, you payed for this week’s necessities. “Because we’re grocery shopping on our own, living off at uni. We have officially moved out of our home, living in the big city. It’s— new. That’s it.”

As soon as you had reached the exit, you picked reached for the strawberries, unable to abstain any longer. Strolling towards his car, you handed one over to your boyfriend while sucking on your own. Like the gentleman he was, Jisung helped you jump from the car and you packed everything into the trunk.

Once you had placed the cart back by the others, you finally headed home. Or rather, the dorm room you would be living in for the next four years.

You weren’t at that point of calling it your home yet.

A comfortable silence surrounded you throughout your drive. It remained while you stacked away your half of the food back at your place and lasted until you finished. This sort of silence wasn’t uncommon these many years into your relationship—you hardly noticed it anymore.

“Man, all this talk about horror movies makes me want to watch one.” That you hadn’t mentioned this topic for over 30 minutes seemed irrelevant.

“But you’re horrible with horror movies,” you pointed out.

“Not when you’re there to protect me.”

An hour later you were sprawled out on your bed, the last sweet strawberry long gone.

With your legs entangled, Jisung’s face rested on your chest as you massaged his scalp. After minutes of fruitless discussion, Spiderman was now webbing his way through your laptop screen. In the end, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing. It never did as long as you were with each other.

Not even 20 minutes into the movie, Jisung had fallen asleep on top of you. His faint snoring was now mere background noise as you followed the plot, ehich wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Your energy was more than drained from running around all day.

Only three days ago, you had still been back home. Packing for your upcoming move to a new city, two hours from every place you had grown up in. The one thing keeping you calm throughout the stress was your sweetheart-boyfriend. To no one’s surprise. He was the only person able to keep you sane when all you wanted was to scream and cry. Had you not had him by your side, you would have drowned in all the noise your brain usually produced.

His ability to calm your nerves when you needed him to—know when to make you laugh or when to distract you from your everyday stresses—surprised you to this day. You couldn’t begin to explain how you had been lucky enough to find someone like him. Someone you loved as much as you had seen your parents do when you were younger. Let alone how he loved you the same way, almost self-destructively so.

Your 14-year-old self would have called bs. But that girl was someone else—you, but in another lifetime. You but pre-Jisung.

When the door to your room rushed open, it pulled you from your quiet slumber. You had turned off the lights earlier to set the mood but still knew the intruder was your roommate. Besides you two, only Jisung knew the code to your dorm—a decision you had previously discussed with your new roomie, of course. Seeing as he was knocked out on top of you, you could cross him off your list of possible visitors at 8 pm on a Monday.

Adapting her eyes to the darkness, she checked her surroundings before tiptoeing into the room. The light remained off as she expected you to be asleep.

“Hey,” you greeted the dark-haired beauty, making her jump in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fu—God! You scared me.” With one hand over her heart, your roomie calmed herself from your unexpected jump-scare. Once her heart rate had settled, she slipped out of her heels and left them by the end of her bed. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting your finger run along his jaw to check. He didn’t move, so you knew he was most likely out for the night. “Long night?”

She gagged with an eye roll, pulling her jeans off her legs and exchanging them for grey sweatpants. “Don’t get me started. I haven’t even started writing my thesis, and it’s already kicking my ass.”

You watched her as she also changed out of her dress shirt and into an off-the-shoulder crop top. She slipped into a pair of sneakers while making her way to her dresser where she sprayed herself in a cloud of perfume.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yup. I spent so much time at the library today, I apparently neglected,” she air-quoted with an eye roll, “my girlfriend. At least that’s what she said.”

“The things we do to keep our loved ones happy.”

“Exactly.” Unleashing her long curls from a tight ponytail, she ran her fingers through them for a few seconds. Her beach-waves veiled her face, so she pushed them behind her ears to instead frame her near-perfect features. “Anyway, I’m staying at hers tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a yawn, your roommate replying with a deep chuckle.

The past few days, you had mainly spent in your new room, settling in and getting ready for the start of the semester. You liked planning ahead, knowing your life was organised to a T, so you could focus on the important stuff. Your studies, and your boyfriend.

Your roommate seemed to have most of the same priorities. She had gone out every night since you moved in, be it to study at the library or spend some time with her better half. However she managed to squeeze in all the partying? You had no clue. You could only hope some of her togetherness rubbed off on you. But then again, never judge a book.

“I’m going to take you out one of these days. You are not going to be sitting inside all year. Not on my watch.”

Spending the first two days inside, you must have looked like the biggest couch potato ever.

“Sounds good.”

As she waltzed towards the door, you grabbed her attention one last time. The hallway lights blinded you with their brightness, framing her curves in a halo.

“Oh, and Hwasa?” She turned to face you, looking like she had jumped straight off a Vogue cover. How she did that without trying was a mystery to you. “Can you not tell Wheein he’s sleeping over? I wouldn’t want my first warning on the third day already.”

“Babe, as long as you’re my roommate, my dorm-supervisor-girlfriend won’t dare write you up. Just don’t set anything on fire, and you’re solid.”

With that, she waved goodbye, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Well, apart from the ever-so-handsome Tom Holland, who somehow made full-body suits look like a reasonable choice of clothing.

Not soon after, your eyes fell close, sending you off into a deep rest.

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