#she's disgusted by how easy her brothers are

[xenodile]

"Shuro loves Falin for the same reasons he hates Laios" Completely and utterly wrong, could not be further off base.

I get the impression a lot of people watching Dungeon Meshi as it airs, or are a bit removed from its original manga run, have forgotten that Laios and Falin being monster freaks wasn't actually apparent until the events of the story. The only person that knew Falin loved monsters as much as Laios was Marcille because they were best friends at school.

Once Laios and Falin were in an adventuring party together, they both had public facing personas because they had both learned through their separate upbringings that being super interested in monsters and dungeons wasn't normal. Laios is the blunt but well meaning, outspoken and opinionated guy we all know, but Falin was way more withdrawn and soft-spoken, non-confrontational, easy to get along with. Everyone that interacted with Falin would say she's a sweet, gentle girl that everyone likes. Because she was, frankly, kind of a doormat.

The whole thing with Toshiro's infatuation with Falin is he doesn't actually know her. She is outwardly very polite and reserved, and that appeals to Toshiro because it meshes with his cultural sensibilities and how he was taught people are supposed to behave. Then he sees her marveling at a caterpillar in a private moment and decides on the spot that she's the ideal woman and proposes without actually talking to or getting to know her.

And his lack of understanding of Falin as a person is brought to the forefront in every action he takes after she gets eaten. He leaves the party and makes no attempt to contact the two people that Falin loves the most. Whether it's a matter of him just not knowing how much Falin cares about her brother and Marcille, or actively avoiding Laios to rescue Falin himself, he's demonstrating that he doesn't actually know what's important to her or understand how she feels.

Then when he meets Laios's party on the lower floors and they go over what happened, it's made even more blatant that Toshiro's affection is shallow and half-baked. He came into the dungeon a week too late and neglected his health the whole way down, so he was in no state to actually try and save Falin when he got there. When Laios talks about eating monsters, something Falin was thrilled about, Toshiro is disgusted. He threatens to kill Laios and turn Marcille in, which would never fly with Falin. His anger at the use of black magic is entirely based in his selfish idea of Falin being tainted and blaming Laios and Marcille for "ruining" his attempt to rescue her, as Kabru points out that Toshiro would have done the exact same thing in their shoes and that he's being a hypocrite. To say nothing of how he'd rather kill Falin after she's been transformed and "put her to rest" rather than put any effort into saving her, because that would require further involvement from Laios and Marcille and methods that Toshiro doesn't approve of.

And there's the fight he has with Laios, and Toshiro's subsequent confession that he had hoped to just take Falin home with him. He at no point gives consideration to what Falin feels or what she might want, only what he has decided about her based on the most surface level observation. Just like how his problem with Laios arises from his refusal to just talk to him about his boundaries, he has no actual connection with the woman he claims to love because he just wouldn't actually talk to her.

Like it's not a coincidence that every time his attraction to Falin is brought up, another character goes "yeah he's being weird about it".

[tigerr-cherry]

Leshy hates the lamb this, tsundere Narinder that , blah blah blah

WHAT ABOUT HEKET, HUH ??! WHAT ABOUT HEKET?!?!

[obsessedwithceleste]

Mother Brother Knows Best

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this request 🫶🏽

Summary: In which Theodore is no match for the sheer determination of a twelve year old fueled by sugar, pumpkin juice, and spite.

word count: 4.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

“Take a picture mate, it’ll last longer,” Mattheo says, collapsing onto the sofa next to his brooding friend.

Theo looks at the boy next to him in annoyance. Mattheo had been meant to meet him in the library thirty minutes ago, and while he was waiting on his habitually late friend, he’d been forced to watch the love of his life practically sit on bloody Cormac McLaggen’s lap. What you saw in that boy, Theo had no idea.

Theo had fancied you for what felt like forever to him at that point, and it’s not like he was exactly subtle about it. At least he didn’t think he was being subtle, but ask any of his friends and they’d say that holding eye contact from across the room for over 3 seconds did not count as a declaration of love. But what did they know. Not that it mattered anyway because somehow, he’d managed to lose you to the toadstool that the Gryffindor house claimed to be a fully functioning wizard.

“I wasn’t staring,” he mutters defensively, breaking his steady glare away unconvincingly.

“Sure you weren’t. How is little y/n anyway? Haven’t seen much of her since she and ole McLaggen started snogging and such,” Mattheo responds easily, an amused grin spreading across his face as he watched his friend tense.

“Fuck off. Don’t remind me.”

With a silent snicker, Mattheo leaned back in his chair. Ever since you had started going out with Cormac, it had been increasingly easy for Mattheo to ruffle Theo’s feathers. The boy really had been taken with you for months now, and Mattheo simply saw this as payback for all the hours he’d been forced to listen to Theo’s rather pathetic pining. She doesn’t even know I exist this, and we made eye contact for a whole 7 seconds that. You’d managed to bring the ever stoic Theodore Nott to his bloody knees, and you didn’t even know it.

“So, about that charms homework…” Mattheo says eventually, breaking Theo’s blazing gaze away from you and Cormac once more.

“No time. Carter should be here any minute since you, are thirty minutes late.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow.

“You’re still gonna tutor that little gremlin? Thought you were just trying to get on y/n’s good side. No point now eh?”

For the past few month or so, Theo had been tutoring your younger brother in charms and transfiguration and, while Mattheo was right about his initial intentions, the little bugger had slowly grown on him. Like a fungus.

Theo shrugs noncommittally as he spots the young Slytherin from across the library.

“Not just gonna let Carter fail. He’s a good kid.” He mumbles.

“Aw Teddy, you’ve gone soft,” Mattheo teases as his eyes follow the young boy making his way excitedly towards them.

Making a face at his friend, Theo tosses a scroll of parchment across the table and Mattheo reaches out to snatch it.

“Get outta here ya tosser.”

With one last smirk, Mattheo rises lazily from their place on the sofas, nodding once at Carter who sidles up to him before making his escape, a completed charms essay successfully secured.

“Hi Theodore!” Carter greets, swinging his bag onto the sofa next to Theo before climbing up himself.

“Hey buddy, what’re we working on today?” Theo asks, a fond smile growing on his face as the young boy makes himself comfortable.

Usually Theo wasn’t one for children of any sort. He found them to be, sticky. But Carter almost reminded him of a younger version of himself. Feisty and energetic with a sharp tongue. The pair honestly got on like a house on fire and Theo actually looked forward to their tutoring sessions.

“Levitating charms,” Carter replies with a look of disgust. “Ew. Is that Cormac and y/n?” He asks, spotting his sister across the library.

Matching Carter’s face of disgust, Theo nods his head in confirmation, pulling out his own charms book.

“He’s the bloody worst. I wish y/n would date someone cool for once. She has a talent for always picking the worst ones. I heard Cormac say he wants to see what’s under y/n’s skirt once, so I told him that the only way he was going to get laid was by crawling up a chicken’s arse and waiting. He didn’t like that. But his friends all thought it was funny. But then he locked me in a broom closet. But it was fine cause Enzo found me a few minutes later and beat Cormac’s arse for me,” Carter rambles, flipping through the pages of his textbook.

Salazar, for a second year, this kid was certainly mouthy, Theo thought.

“Think Enzo mentioned that to me actually.” He replies off-handedly.

“Yeah. He’s so cool. I think y/n used to have a crush on him a few years ago. Don’t tell her I said anything though. You’re cool too.” Carter says, looking down at his book. “Hey! Why don’t you date y/n? Then I could see you during holiday! Hopefully Cormac doesn’t stick long enough to make it to Christmas. I don’t want him to stink up the house.”

Theo feels his cheeks begin to redden at the boy’s statement and he begins to stutter. Damn he hoped his filter wasn’t this bad when he was twelve.

“Let’s just get back to the lesson,” he mumbles, hoping to redirect the young boy.

Lucky for him, Carter obliges, allowing the older boy to guide him through the precise wand movements essential to the spell in question.

“Windgardimum leviosum”

“Wingardinum liviosa”

“Windgarnium leviosauarasurausrus.”

“Now you’re just making words up,” Theo laughs as the boy fails to pronounce the spell correctly for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Because I am!” The boy says with frustration.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s fine okay. Ready? Win.”

“Win”

“Gaurd”

“Gaurd.”

“E-um”

“E-um”

“Wingardium”

“Wingardium”

“Nice! Now the second part. Lev.”

“Lev”

“E-o-sa”

“E-o-sa”

“Leviosa”

“Leviosa.”

“Great. Now put it together.”

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Perfect, now add the wand movements,” Theo instructs.

Moments later, Carter has a textbook floating through the air with ease.

“So will you date my sister?” Carter asks as he slides his books back into his bag.

Theo chokes on air. It had been a bit over an hour and the two had perfected the boy’s levitating charms and worked on turning a flower into a teacup, so Theo had assumed that their previous conversation was all but forgotten to the younger boy. Apparently not.

“Sorry?” He splutters, looking over at his companion.

“My sister. Will you date her? I saw you get all red earlier so you must like her, at least a little,” the boy says nonchalantly as if pointing out the most obvious thing in the world.

Theo feels the heat rushing to his cheeks once more.

“Look little man, I appreciate the support, but it’s not really entirely up to me to decide. Your sister is taken,” Theo tries to reason.

The boy just shrugs.

“We’ll just have to break em up then. Cormac is dumb as rocks, so it’s not like it’ll be hard,” he replies.

Theo can barely hold in his laughter. Salazar this kid was great.

“You know what Carter, if you can break those two up, yeah, I’ll ask out y/n,” he says, patting the young boy on the back.

“Deal.” Carter says, sticking out his hand. “But don’t think I don’t know that I’m doing you a favor too. I’ve seen you stare at my sister. Oh. And if I need help plotting, you have to help me too.”

Damn this kid was good. A right and proper Slytherin.

“Deal.” Theo replies, shaking the boys hand.

As he’s leaving the library, he hears Carter’s voice ring out.

“Hey Cormac! The village called and said they want their idiot back, so you better get going!”

Salazar he’d really found himself the perfect ally he thought gleefully. With a final snicker, Theo pushed open the library doors and headed back down to the dungeons.

You watch with silent amusement from the entrance of the Great Hall as your younger brother once again made Cormac’s life a living disaster, sending pumpkin juice flying all over the older boy’s robes. For the past week or so, you’d noticed your brother sabotaging your boyfriend’s every move with varying levels of discretion; from tripping him in the halls, causing him to trip into you, to sticking him to his chair in the library during a study date.

At first you’d found it annoying as you’d known your brother didn’t like your boyfriend, but thought he didn’t have to make the boy miserable. But then, as you were passing by what you thought was an empty classroom, you’d heard your brother’s voice whispering to one Theodore Nott.

“Do you think it would be too far to just get him expelled? If I have to see him snog my sister one more time, I’ll release one of Hagrid’s beasts on him myself!” You’d heard Carter exclaim, followed by Theo’s low chuckle.

“Easy there little basilisk. Let’s not get the guy expelled, as aggravating as he might be.”

You’d never really spoken to Theo much in the past, and aside from brief eye contact from across the classroom, you really couldn’t remember interacting with the boy at all. But he’d begun tutoring your brother a few months ago, and Carter would not stop going on about the boy. You knew your brother was quite picky with his friends, and very difficult to impress, so to be so taken with the bloke. You knew Theodore had to be something special. You’d started noticing him more after that, dark and broody, but also sharp witted and fiercely loyal to his group of Slytherins. Not to mention ridiculously handsome.

You subconsciously take a step closer, listening to the two boys.

“I don’t understand why she likes him. He’s so dumb. And mean. He’s always picking on me and my friends when y/n isn’t around. And he thinks he’s so cool because he’s a bloody Gryffindor. I don’t know why she wouldn’t just date you in the first place. You’re the best,” you hear Carter grumble as you feel yourself blush.

You hear Theo laugh again. “Let’s finish this chapter and then you can continue plotting Cormac’s demise okay?” You hear him say.

“Fine. Do you think y/n will break up with him if he smells? I wanna hide a dung beetle in his robes.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. Now- quill pen into a telescope, let’s go.” Theo says with a snort.

After that, you’d begun to take your brother’s words to heart, noticing Cormac’s rash reactions towards the younger students, and loud outbursts whenever something didn’t go his way. You’d always assumed Carter was just goading at your boyfriend, but maybe he had a point.

Breaking away from your usual group of friends, you divert your attention to your younger brother who was now sitting alone at the long green and silver table on the other side of the hall.

“Morning Carter,” you greet, sitting down next to him at Slytherin table, quiet chatter filling the Great Hall.

“Didn’t want to sit next to your boyfriend covered in pumpkin juice?” Your brother asks innocently, taking a sip from his own pumpkin juice filled glass.

“Mm. I saw.” You respond dryly, side eyeing your brother as you filled your plate.

“It was an accident.”

“I’m sure. So, how are your tutoring sessions going? Mum and dad gonna be on you next holiday?” You ask.

“No way. Theo has me getting top marks on all my assignments. He’s the best,” Carter brags.

“Yeah? You seem to like him. A lot more than Cormac that’s for sure.” You comment.

“Well duh. Theo’s like, one of the coolest blokes in Slytherin, and Cormac is one of the biggest tossers in the whole school. Bit of an insult to even compare Theo to that wank-cloth to be honest.”

You struggle to maintain your composure, holding in your laughter, and before you’re able to probe your brother any further, a plate is plonked down across the table.

“Carter! My favorite little second year!” Enzo says brightly, taking his seat.

“Enzo it’s too early for you to be this cheery. No one is that cheery at 7:30 am let’s reel it in,” Mattheo groans, sitting down on Carter’s other side.

“Theo!” Carter exclaims as the brown haired boy takes his spot across from you.

“What’s up little man, how’d that charms exam go?”

“I got the top score in my class,” your brother responds proudly as you gaze across the table at his tutor.

Theo really was handsome.

Quickly shaking the thoughts from your head, you force yourself to zone back into the conversation.

“I remember being in second year charms,” Mattheo was saying.

“No you don’t, you never showed up,” Enzo snorts.

“Shut up pretty boy.”

“Speaking of second year. Where are your friends in second year?” You interrupt, suddenly realizing that your brother was in fact surrounded by a whole gang of sixth years.

“They’re all scared of them,” Carter shrugs nonchalantly, gesturing towards the boys around you.

Mattheo’s jaw drops open in mock offense.

“I can assure you y/n, we are prime role models for young Slytherins.” He says.

“Didn’t you and Draco just get a detention for sending a hoard of rabid pygmie puffs after a group of firsties?” Carter asks, taking a large bite of his eggs.

“Minor details.”

“Right. Note to self, Theodore is the only one of you to be left alone with Carter. Got it.” You joke, almost missing the tinge of red in Theo’s cheeks as he ducks his head, suddenly very interested in his breakfast.

“That’s fine with me. Theo skips class all the time too, so I won’t be missing much,” Carter says matter of factly as he proceeds to drown his pancakes and eggs in syrup.

Now it’s Theo’s turn to drop his jaw at the young boy.

“Little snitch, you said you wouldn’t bring that up,” he says, throwing a bit of his toast at your younger brother.

Carter just laughs, tossing sticky egg right back.

“That’s on you for trusting a twelve year old, I can’t be held responsible for my actions, I’m just a kid,” he replies, sticking his tongue out at his tutor.

You watch the scene before you play out, a smile growing on your face.

“Oh he’s going to make Slytherin house proud,” Mattheo says with a grin as Theo proceeds to throw a bit of muffin back your brother’s way.

“Woah woah woah there Theodore, leave y/n’s brother alone,” a voice says from behind you.

You turn to see Cormac approaching the table, dried pumpkin juice still staining the front of his shirt.

“Piss off Cormac,” Mattheo tells him, a scowl quickly taking over his face.

“Don’t think I will. Can’t stand by and watch my girlfriend’s brother get bullied,” he says, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. His gesture might’ve been nice a week ago, but at the moment you wanted to hurl.

“Right. Like you weren’t the one who locked Carter in a broom closet the other day you bloody bastard. How’d you like a replay of our little encounter?” Enzo sneers, going to rise from his seat only to be sat back down by Theo.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” You ask, fury rising in you as you whip around to face your boyfriend-for-not-much-longer.

“Relax, it was just some man to man bonding,” Cormac says, giving Carter a pat on the head. Carter smacks his hand away.

“Salazar Cormac, are you always this stupid, or do you just show off when we’re around? Get lost,” Theo says, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah! If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d just fart!” Carter adds, glaring up at the boy with crossed arms.

With a scowl, Cormac sneers at the group of Slytherin boys glaring right back at him before giving your shoulder a tug.

“C’mon then y/n. You shouldn’t be hanging out with this filth anyway,” he practically growls.

You frown at the Gryffindor. What on Earth had made you like this boy? The mix of sheer embarrassment, disgust, and rage sends a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck of Cormac. We are so, so done. And my brother isn’t filth.” You snap, abruptly turning your back on him.

You’re met with a satisfied smirk on Theo’s face as the other boys jeer at Cormac as he stomps away.

“Bloody hell, who let me stay with that tosser for so long?” You mutter, stabbing at one of your sausages.

“Not to say I told you so, but I totally told you so,” Carter says through a mouthful of egg.

“Point very well taken.”

The five of you eat in silence for a moment, but when you look up, you see Carter mouthing something furiously at Theo who looks mortified.

“What’re you two on about?” You ask, breaking the silence as you glance back and forth between the two boys.

“Yeah Theo, what are we on about?” Carter says pointedly at the older boy.

Mattheo and Enzo, now also fully invested, look between Carter and Theodore as well, a sinister grin spreading across Mattheo’s face as realization grows.

“Oh I think I have a good idea of what they’re on about,” he says, taking on a playful tone.

“Don’t you start.” Theo grumbles.

You look blankly between the boys as they seem to be having a silent conversation amongst themselves.

“Well this has been lovely really. So glad you all got a front row seat to the drama that is my life, but I think it’s time I head out,” you say finally when none of the boys speak up.

As if coming to a stalemate, four heads turn to you, and you leave to a chorus of “Bye, y/n’s and see you laters.”

You found yourself once again seated in the library, scribbling away on your DADA assignment. It had been a bit over a week since you’d dropped Cormac and you’d forgotten how bloody nice it was to not be constantly dragged down by him when studying. As you continue to scratch away at your parchment, a loud thud shakes you out of your focus.

“What’s up sissy?” Carter says, his bag joining his large stack of books on the table as he makes himself comfortable in the chair next to you. “Matt over here!” He whisper tells, gesturing frantically to the curly haired boy who was quickly making his way over to you.

“Ah y/n! Perfect timing! Been such a pleasure chatting with you for the last several hours eh?” He says, sliding into the seat across from you.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Huh?”

Just then, a miffed looking Theo bursts through the library door, eyes quickly zoning in on Mattheo and your brother.

“What did you two do?” You hiss as the boy begins stalking over.

“Nothing!” Carter says quickly.

You glare at the two boys.

“We might have allegedly started a small fire in the dorms,” Mattheo grumbles, trying to look invested in one of the random textbooks that had been strewn across the table.

“You did what?” You whisper yell across the table.

“Allegedly!” He emphasizes, still not looking up.

“I know it was you two. And also probably Enzo.” Theo states unamusedly, walking up to the table, arms crossed.

“Us? We would never! We’ve been here studying with y/n this whole time!” Mattheo says, looking very offended for someone who was in fact guilty of what Theo was accusing.

“Yeah?” Theo asks. “You’ve been here reading Advanced Love Spells in the third edition?” Theo says, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the book Mattheo was holding.

“Uh, yeah,” Mattheo responds.

“Really? Because it’s upside down,” Theo replies, snatching the book and turning it right side up before giving it back to Mattheo.

“I enjoy a challenge.” Mattheo retorts, doubling down as he snaps the volume shut.

Theo just dead stares his friend for a moment before sighing and slumping into the last remaining seat.

“I’m not covering for you if Snape asks me who did it.” He says eventually.

“But you won’t snitch?”

Theo glares at his friend.

“Don’t insult me.” He grumbles. Then turning towards Carter. “I’m advising to Snape that I begin tutoring you in potions too before you burn the entire castle down,” he tells him.

Carter just grins bashfully.

“Great! Now that that’s all settled, I’ll be off. Y/n, pleasure as always. Boys.” And with one last nod, and a sarcastic salute, Mattheo is off.

“One day, I’m going to murder him, and drop his body in the Black Lake,” Theo says under his breath.

“Alright. Which one of you is going to explain?” You ask, looking sternly between the two boys you were left with.

Before Theo has the chance to get a word in, Carter shoots up.

“I just remembered that I need to get a book for our tutoring session tonight! Be right back!” He exclaims, running off.

“Well I suppose that answers that,” Theo mutters.

“Are my parents going to get an owl? And if so, how bad will the howler be on a scale of 1-10?”

“I don’t think they’ll be owled. If anything, Matt will take the fall for the three of them,” Theo assures you.

“So what exactly happened?”

“Not entirely sure, but from what I gathered, Matt and Enzo decided that they would be able to help your brother with his potions homework, proceeded to forget about the cauldron sitting on an open flame, and then had the audacity to be surprised when a stack of parchment caught fire because Matt’s side of the dorm is a mess.”

You purse your lips.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m so sorry. You share a room with them don’t you?”

Theo nods his head.

“How’d you know that?”

“Carter hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him.” You reply with an awkward laugh. “Thanks for doing it by the way. And for letting him hang around you lot. He seems so much happier lately.”

A small smile appears on Theo’s face.

“We like having him around. Kid’s a spitfire. And an excellent alibi. Not that we’d ever get him into trouble,” he says quickly.

You let out a light laugh.

“I’m very sure that Carter would find trouble with or without you lot. He tends to go looking for it.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you wait for Carter to return, and you try to turn your focus back to your assignment. It’s significantly harder to concentrate you find however, with the handsome Slytherin sitting across from you fingering idly through one of the textbooks he’d picked up.

“Someone’s deep in thought.”

Theo’s voice jolts you into the present, and you blush knowing he’d definitely caught you staring.

“Just annoyed with this bloody DADA assignment,” you mumble, hoping he hadn’t realized just how long you’d been staring.

“Did it earlier. It’s a bit of a snooze.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“Would you want to work on it together sometime?” He asks suddenly, words practically tumbling from his mouth.

You look up at the boy in surprise.

“Um, I’m not sure a really need a tutor…” you say trailing off.

Theo gives you a lopsided grin, shaking his head a bit.

“I meant as a study date.”

You feel yourself blush for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Oh. Then yes. I’d like that.” You say, holding back the huge grin that was threatening to take over your face.

“I’m back!” Carter sings, skipping his way back to the table and effectively ending the moment. “Was that enough time for you to ask her out? I can only stare at those dusty shelves for so long before I start going crazy.”

Your jaw drops as you turn to your brother.

“Did you really just set me up?”

“Duh. Christmas is only a few weeks away, and you clearly don’t have good judgment. I can’t risk having to see some stinky loser over break! And Mattheo said Theo’s had a crush on you since forever, so it was really a win for everybody.”

Now it was Theo’s turn to look embarrassed and offended.

“You didn’t need to tell her the last bit,” he hissed at your brother.

Carter just shrugs in response.

“This is what you two get for putting a twelve year old in charge of your love lives.”

“Carter, I don’t think either of us put you in charge of our love life,” you tell your all too satisfied younger brother.

“Well you should’ve. I got better results in a couple weeks than you two did in sixteen years.”

And that’s a wrap! I know I strayed from the rec a tad bit, but hopefully I did your request justice🫶🏽 Anyway, live laugh love Carter🙌🏽

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can you do a part two to the imagine about conrad bringing his new gf to belly and jeremiah’s wedding??? i’m so curious to see what happens next lol

Request: Can we see more of conrad and his Stanford tutor girlfriend at cousins? Like him showing her around and they run into Nicole and everything. He's just so in love he doesn't notice anything or anyone but her. Maybe we see a family dinner

I had no intentions to, but after the crazy amount of demands for a part 2, I caved in…and here it is

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Conrad didn’t want to deal with everyone’s questions about you right when you got to Cousins, so you snuck out by the beach after dropping your bags in his room. He felt like he was fourteen again, sneaking out to catch the early waves. 

Neither of you had swim clothes on, so you just walked along the sandy shoreline while Conrad shared all sorts of little stories about Cousins.

‘’This is where you learned to surf?’’ you asked, gesturing toward the water.

Conrad hummed, his hand holding yours. ‘’And where I got stung by a jellyfish.’’ 

‘’A jellyfish?’’ you echoed, a touch of concern in your voice. That sounded pretty serious.

‘’Yeah. Steven kept telling Jeremiah that he had to pee on my leg so I wouldn’t need amputation and I did not want that,’’ he recounted with the same disgust as that day. ‘’Never do that, by the way. It can do more harm.’’ 

You nodded, though you doubted you would ever need that piece of information.

You walked and talked some more, until a playful glint of mischief flashed in Conrad’s eye and he turned to you, lifting you over his shoulder and taking you to the water. A squeak left your lips, caught off guard, and then you instinctively clung to his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he threatened to drop you in the water fully clothed. 

‘’If you drop me, I swear I'll—’’

Conrad cut you off with a mischievous grin, his laughter mixing with the soothing sounds of the ocean. ‘’You’ll what?’’ His voice was filled with playful challenge, and he took a few steps deeper into the water. 

*

When you came back to the summer house, Laurel whisked you away and Conrad went looking for Jeremiah. Unfortunately, someone found him first. 

‘’I don’t want her here.’’ Belly's voice hissed, her eyes glaring at the one she used to call her’s. ‘’This is my wedding, I get to decide who attends.’’ 

Conrad knew this wouldn't be easy for her — seeing him with another girl —, but he didn't expect Belly to behave like a child. She made a choice two years ago, she made a choice weeks ago when she decided to marry Jeremiah. 

‘’If you want her to leave, I’m leaving too,’’ he replied firmly but calmly. ‘’Good luck explaining to Jeremiah why his brother and best man is not at his wedding.’’

Belly sighed, accepting the lost battle. ‘’Fine. She can stay…’’ It didn’t enchant her, but there was no way she was risking Conrad leaving. Jeremiah was so happy when he got his RSVP response. ‘’Did you bring her here just to spite me?’’ she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt.

Conrad couldn't believe her accusation. He took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. ‘’Are you being serious right now? You're getting married, and you still think I came here to get you back? It’s been two years. I moved on, Belly.’’

She met Conrad's gaze with a mixture of frustration and defiance. ‘’I did too. I’m getting married.’’ Belly smiled, the ring on her finger suddenly feeling heavy. 

‘’Then why are you so bothered that I’m dating someone else?’’  

Belly opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. 

‘’How can you do this to Jeremiah?!’’ 

Conrad was exasperated. Him and Jeremiah had tough moments, but he was his little brother and he promised their mom to take care of him. And that included making sure he’s not marrying someone who doesn’t love him the way he deserves. 

‘’He's inside, helping Taylor with the center-tables while his fiancé is having a jealousy fit over her ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend. You can’t have everything, Belly. You picked Jeremiah, you made that choice—’’

‘’And you left!’’ 

‘’Because you picked Jeremiah!’’ Conrad spit back, plunging back into old feelings. ‘’There was nothing left for me here.’’ 

‘’You didn’t show up on the 4th of July. Everyone was there, but you weren’t. How can you miss Susannah’s favorite holiday?’’

‘’How can you announce your engagement on her special day?’’ 

‘’It was Jeremiah’s idea—’’ 

‘’I don’t care! I don’t care whose idea it was,'' Conrad cut. ''Just like I don’t care that you’re jealous I came here with Y/N. You always said you don’t like the attention, but it’s bullshit. You crave attention, but you’re no longer my center of attention and that’s something you have to accept.’’

*

An undeniable tension hung in the air during dinner. Everyone was sitting outside, discussing around a light meal Laurel had prepared — with your offered help. The conversation was mainly around the soon-to-be-weds, but eventually circled back to you and Conrad.  

‘’So, Connie, how long have you been hiding her from us?’’ Laurel asked, a light teasing tone in her voice. 

The attention shifted to you and Conrad, who immediately felt uncomfortable. Unlike some people around the table, he didn’t like being the center of attention. ‘’I haven’t been hiding her,’’ he defended, shaking his head, trying to downplay the situation. 

‘’Then why did you miss the last Christmas?’’ Steven questioned, giving Conrad a knowing smile. 

Conrad glared at him, cursing his big mouth. ‘’Med school is hard, Steven. And Y/N is tutoring outside her classes, so she can’t just leave whenever she decides.’’

‘’What about the skiing pictures I saw? I doubt there’s skiing resorts in Palo Alto.’’ 

‘’It was a last minute thing,’’ you explained, helping Conrad against Steven. ‘’My parents rented a cabin and invited us for a few days. We would have loved to come to Boston for Christmas if we had time.’’

It wasn’t the full truth, but Conrad was grateful for your quick lie. You did go on a ski trip with your parents during winter break, but Conrad had no intention of coming to Boston for the holidays. He didn’t want to spend Christmas at home without his mom. 

‘’Well, I'm glad you both could make it for the wedding,’’ Jeremiah said, smiling warmly at you and Conrad, his gaze lingering on his older brother for a moment. ‘’It means a lot to me — to us. Right Bells?’’ He glanced at his fiancé, who was visibly unhappy about your presence.

She had made no effort to engage conversation with you — nor Conrad — during the whole dinner.  Even her friend Taylor had been whispering in your back with Belly. It was such an unclassy teenager behavior. You personally didn’t care.You weren’t there to make friends, you were Conrad’s guest. 

Belly forced a smile, stabbing at her food with her fork. ‘’Yeah.’’

—

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[wutheringcaterpillar]

18 years

Summary: After 18 years of marriage Thomas plans a special day just for you that he wants to be perfect even if that means keeping his kids out of trouble.

Warnings: Slight misogynistic Thomas, talk of termination.

Side Note: This is my first fic in awhile since I stopped writing two years ago on a different account, I hope it's okay! :)

The Shelby household was anything but perfect but for today Thomas was going out of his way to ensure that it was. Being a housewife and a mother was by far not an easy job.Thomas and you had been married for eighteen years. Did it get ugly sometimes? Absolutely. That didn’t change the adoration and love you shared for each other.

While you were out running some errands with Ada, Thomas has quite a few helping hands in cleaning up the house, and decorating it to the 10s. “Well brother, how’s it lookin’ eh?”

The silver chandelier presented the dining room with a warm glow that made the silver set table look ever so inviting. All the rooms were vacuumed and mopped, not a crumb in site. The floors glistened beautifully to his high standard. “Never did I think that my incompetent brothers would use their brains for a day and the outcome be satisfactory.” Arthur laughed in response, before giving Thomas a playful nudge. “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Thomas rushed to the kitchen once he remembered he left the kids in there unattended. They were being not very helpful to say the least.

Annabeth, and Edward were now teenagers full of hormones and outbursts. It seemed like they would argue every day about the smallest things but today Thomas wasn’t allowing there behavior especially today.

“Does dad know about Jackson?” Annabeth scoffed at him with a disgusted face. Thomas did not allow her to date unless he appointed the young man to her. The same could not be said for Edward’s late night shenanigans that Thomas was aware of and Annabeth despised the double standard. “No, and I’d appreciate if you kept your fucking mouth sh-“

“Now, now. No need for bickering on a day that’s about your mother and all she has done for you.” Thomas entered the room dressed in a black and white suit and tie that fit him snuggly, giving off his normal professional sense. “I wanted to have a word with the both of you before your mother arrives which should be-“ He pulled his watch out of his suit to get a glimps of the time. “In ten minutes precisely.” Edward opened his mouth to speak but Thomas raised his hand to stop him. “I don’t want any interruptions I want you both to listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth and I highly suggest you take them seriously or you will not enjoy the consequences. Eh?” He eyed them both with his eyebrows raised, both of them stayed quiet as they lightly cowered in there seats to there father’s stature. “Stand up. Both of you.” Without hesitations the teenagers stood up, not slouching but standing to s perfect straight line.

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” Thomas walked around them in a circle menacingly never taking his eyes off of them while they stared at the ground and listened to their fathers words. “I don’t care, if you don’t like the food. I don’t care if you don’t like sitting next to each other. More importantly I don’t care how either of you feel today. Today is about your mother. There will be no games, no arguments, no sports. More importantly-“ He stopped in his tracks now in front of them, hands on his knees as he leaned down so they had no choice but to look in his demeaning eyes. “No. Fucking. Fighting.”

There was a brief silence, as if to let the air settle and for what he said to soak into them. “We’re clear eh?” They both nodded and Thomas dismissed them. “Great now, go get formally dressed.” He watched as they both walked out of the kitchen. He greatly appreciated how much time and effort you spent in taking care of them and it’s time they return the favor for at the least one singular night.

Edward shoved his sister playfully into a wall, just around the corner to where they thought Thomas wouldn’t hear. Annabeth shoved him back and pointed up at him. “If you say one thing about-“

“Who your late night squeeze?” Edward began to laugh and Annabeth shoved him again.

Thomas heard from the kitchen and raised his hands in the air, disposing of his cigarette before he spoke to himself, annoyed. “What did I just say?” Thomas was going to let it go until he heard something break that sounded expensive.

In a quick pace to the hallway, he saw the both of you attempting to round the corner to the next room but they should know who their father is by now that nothing goes uncaught. “Eh! Over here now!” The siblings shamefully turned awaiting for all hell to break loose. Thomas was the strict parent, and that frightened them, which is what he wanted.

Glancing to the ground, an expensive, rare crystal dish was shattered on the floor, and he was going to be damned if Frances was going to clean it up. For Thomas’s sake he just hope you wouldn’t notice until after his surprise. “I said three, fucking words to you.”

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” He hit the both of them on the back of their heads. “Yes I’m aware of Jackson, I was hoping to avoid the subject today but I have ears so I suppose this will be addressed right fucking now to clear the fucking air. I pay close attention to anyone and anything around me and my family. You both should know that more than anyone. Seeing Jackson stops now. I don’t approve of him, my daughter will not be marrying some useless sack of shit like that. See him again. You will never leave this house again, got it?” Annabeth nodded with her heated cheeks. Edward began to quietly laugh to himself while his sister was being reprimanded.

That’s when Thomas was quick to call him out too. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re giggling at like I don’t know what you do with the little whores from school, sneaking them into my fucking house.” All grins from Edward diminished immediately.

“What you do is your business but in my fucking house. That’s my fucking business. Clearly your mother and I have given both of you too much privilege. I don’t care who you fuck but I’d be careful if I were you because the first girl you get pregnant, you’re marrying whether you love her or not. You know why? Because I say so. As for sneaking them in my house. Good luck with that from now on I’m sure you haven’t noticed but maybe you should take a look at the new people I hired if you could find them to watch the house whilst your mother and I are away for our anniversary.” Both of them were speechless and Thomas sent them up to their room. Thomas may be older than them but he wasn’t born yesterday. After all he spent plenty of those nights sneaking in and out of your house when you first started dating. He knows all the ins and outs of scheming.

The sound of car door closing grabbed his attention and panic mode slightly set in for him. Thomas Shelby didn’t panic but in the event of there being a chance that something may not be to your standard, he panicked. “Hurry on, your mother is here! Get dressed in proper clothes and not some skimpy, raggedy mess for once!” He yelled after his children.

The weather was chilly as winter was approaching in Birmingham. The snow was falling delicately from the sky once you pulled in with Ava and to say you were freezing was an understatement but the new brown wool blanket, she has gotten you should do more than help. “Ada you didn’t have to buy me anything. I have money.”

“Oh being married to my brother, believe me I know you have money, just wanted to treat you today is that so bad?” You shrugged, smiling at your sister. “C’mon let’s get inside.”

“Oh I hope Thomas was okay with the kids today, I know he’s hardly taking care of them alone without needing my help.” Ada set a comforting hand on your shoulder before reaching for the door handle. “Y/N if Thomas can’t handle them for a few hours, I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far.” You both laughed and once the door opened, you were met with a warm embrace there must’ve been a fire lit in the living room. Thomas came abruptly from around the corner after yelling something at Arthur that you weren’t able to make out. “Y/N! My dear loving wife!” Thomas pulled you to his side, and had Ada remove your jacket.

He was freshly shaven, and showered, smelling of mint and tobacco. His smile pierced your eyes, and he leaned down to kiss you softly. “How was your day out with Ada love?”

“Wonderful, was nice to get away from all the testosterone for a bit.” You giggled and then started noticing your surroundings. The floor was sparkling, not a sign of dirt or mud. The laundry basket was empty, the kitchen spotless, you went to turn into the dining room but Thomas quickly placed his hands over your eyes. “Thomas, what’s going on the house looks-“

“Happy anniversary sweetheart.” He removed his hands and the sight of the dining room was absolutely breathtaking. The curtains looked brand new, a dark cherry red colored that allowed the sun to poke through in a welcoming manner. The chairs were painted black and with gold patted seats to sit on. The food arrangements looked more than delicious and most importantly your whole family was there. Annabeth dressed in a a beautiful gold gown and Edward dressed in a suit and tie matching his father. Even the Shelby brothers looked showered and dressed to the tens. “Thomas I-“

He guided you to your seat, pulling out the chair for you. “Don’t say anything love, just enjoy dinner and don’t even think about doing dishes or cleaning up after this. We’ve got it.” Thomas winked at you as he took his seat beside you, the glowing of your smile and surprise leaving him just as happy as the day you said yes to marrying him.

18 years, and he still found time to manage to make it feel like the first day you fell in love with him. “I just want to take a moment to thank Frances who will also be joining us for this lovely meal. I couldn’t have put today together without any of you. Thank you for taking them time to assist me in doing this for Y/N, my beautiful wife whom I adore and admire more and more every day. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to our kids and dealing with me. Not sure how you quite do it but I’m glad you’ve stayed and put up with me.” Thomas raised his glass of whiskey in honor of everyone.

Your eyes began to water to which he’d caught your tear of joy with his free finger. You mouthed a thank you to him and an I love you and dinner began. Once dinner was over Thomas made a final announcement. “Tonight Y/N and I will be leaving for Bali for our anniversary.” You gasped, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. You’d never gone and you had never found the time. Thomas wasn’t giving you an option to not have time. “We’ll return Wednesday afternoon and I’d just like to take a minute to thank Pol and Frances for watching the kids. Thank you all for coming, and I appreciate every one of you bastards.” Laughs filled the room while Thomas extended his hand for you to take and help you out of your seat.

Once upstairs you stared at your body in the mirror, just getting the feeling that something was off but putting it off your mind. “You didn’t have to do all this Thomas.” He came up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I did love. You do so much and never take time for yourself, always putting I and the children first. You need to be put first too.” Swinging around, you stared into your husband’s crystal blue eyes.

It has been a long, long ride for the two of you together, that will keep going. But this soft, sentiment man had taken awhile to appear and you’re not sure how you got him to come out but you were glad you did. “I love you Mr. Shelby.”

“And I love you Mrs. Shelby.” You giggled as he smiled down at you in awe, before placing his lips on yours, connecting them in a chaste, delicate kiss. “Mom, Dad the cab’s here!” Annabeth called.

“Would you shut up you idiot, dad probably already knew that.”

“Eh! No fighting, right?” There was a silence before they both responded in unison. “Sorry dad!”

“I don’t know how you managed to get them along for dinner but kahoots to you my dear husband because that’s something I could never do.” Thomas wrapped his arm around you, as you walked down the stairs together. “I’m Thomas Shelby. The name alone fucking scares anyone.”

“Well I guess I’m not anyone then am I?” Thomas shook his head smiling. “No, no you’re not. You weren’t even frightened of me when I screamed at some whore, for thinking she could seduce me.”

“Fuck no, if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be Mrs. Shelby now would I?” Thomas laughed once more before opening the car door for you. The snow covered ground glistened from the bright night sky as you scooted into the cab.

The ride was quiet whilst you rested in Thomas’s arms which he thought was rather odd, that usually meant something was on your mind. “Are you alright love?” Breaking a part from, you took his hand in yours. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Worry etched over Thomas’s face but it didn’t compete with the level of anxiety you were feeling. “Whatever it is you can tell me Y/N, we’re celebrating eighteen years of marriage nothing is going to run me off now I can assure you that.” You stared down at the seat, eyebrows etched together in concern of his reaction. Patting his hand you looked up at him slowly, paying close attention to his eyes. “Thomas I think I might be pregnant. I know it's a big age gap for Edward and Annbeth to be close with them but I still want to have this baby." Thomas didn't hesitate to speak as he did not want to worry you. "Sweetheart, how long have you known?"

"I think I've known for about a week and I know it sounds silly that I was nervous to tell you but I didn't know if you'd want me to get rid of it because I know we didn't plan for this."

"Darling we didn't plan for the first two." You laughed and Thomas pulled you into his arms, resting his hands on your stomach. "I'd never ever want you to think I'd want you to get rid of our child besides, I love when you're pregnant, your swollen tits, your glowing smile and glowing tummy. I love every part of you Y/N nothing is going to change that. Okay?" You couldn't help the tears that began to stream down your cheeks, that Tommy once again wiped away, and he smiled lovingly at you. You nodded and leaned into his chest. You were going to be okay, and today was more than amazing. It was perfect.

[weird-an]

When Robin first met Steve, she thought he was all arrogance and confidence, thought he was bullshit.

She got to know him, looked behind the picture of King Steve, the fallen jock of Hawkins High. She likes Steve. Loves him like a brother sometimes.

She's surprised though that he's so oblivious sometimes. That guy dated half of the school, okay, all of them girls, even though she knows that Steve Harrington's virginity will forever be Tommy Hagan's greatest steal, but how can Steve be so blind?

Steve's face is flushed when he finds her after the last period, when they are supposed to spend the rainy afternoon on the couch, watching Disney movies or whatever.

"I think Billy is theatening me!" Steve says, eyes huge. Like always when he's talking about Billy. Which he does a lot. Most of the day.

Because they are rivals, he says.

Because he's got a big fat crush, Robin has inferred after the last "Billy Hargrove is disgusting" ramble Steve annoyed her with for two hours.

She suppresses a grin that wants to mix with a sigh which leads to a weird hiccup.

"What's going on?"

"He sent me notes today. This one says 'I'm watching you, pretty boy.'" Steve waves a piece of paper in front of her. Billy's handwriting is surprisingly neat.

That's not really a surprise. Billy stares at Steve as if he's an oasis in the desert. Steve stares at Billy like he's a cake and there's only one piece left.

There's her hiccup again.

" … and the other?" she asks. It's amusing, she has to admit. At the same time she wants to smush them together like the Barbie dolls she had played with as a child. She created epic love stories - lacking Ken the whole time, because a Barbie deserved another Barbie, not some boring ass dude.

Steve ruffles his hair. "It’s even worse. It says 'I'm waiting for you in the parking lot!'"

Robin snorts. That's it. She's glad Billy apparently had gotten around to the realization that it's not a rivalry but the exact opposite. Of course Billy Hargrove can't just say "I like you". That would be too easy.

"I think you're both idiots," she hiccups. Damn, that's getting out of hand.

Steve puts his hands in his hips. "What?" he asks.

"Go to the parking lot!" Robin points at the door.

"I don't wanna fight," Steve begins.

Robin can't stand this hiccup any longer.

"He doesn't want to fight - he wants to fuck," she almost yells.

Steve gapes at her.

"Maybe it's a joke," he manages.

"What if it isn't?" she asks.

Steve's moles drown in the pinkness of his cheeks.

"I… should go," he says. "Thanks, Robin."

"Welcome, dingus."

She shouldn’t follow him, but she still does, because he’s a bit of an idiot and she loves him. She wants to make sure, she isn’t wrong. She peeks around the corner. It's still raining a bit, more a drizzle than anything.

Billy is wearing his tightest pair of jeans. He's leaning against the Camaro, sucking on a cigarette. Pretending he isn't soaking wet. It's almost adorable.

"Harrington, I bet your lame ass still hasn't seen Terminator, " he says, stroking a wet curl out of his dace.

"You don't know that," Steve grumbles.

Billy tilts his head. His face flushes a bit, too. They are matching tones of pink.

"'M drivin'," Billy mumbles.

Steve grins. "I'm buying, then."

Billy nearly drops his cigarette.

"Cool," he says, face still red.

She watches them drive off, high-fiving a very confused Jonathan Byers who just happens to walk to his car.

Her hiccup is gone. Finally.

[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

-

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

-

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

-

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.

[kissitbttr]

hiii, can we see frat!Miguel when he first met muñeca and started crushing on her. I'll love to see how he was always talking about with his brothers. thank you babess

truth be told, miguel never exactly noticed you until you came to one of the fraternities party. you are not an introvert but not exactly a social butterfly either.

he did hear a thing or two about you through beck. since his frat brother is having this weird on and off situationship with a girl named gloria and she’s friends with you. every time the two come over, gloria would mention a lot of things about you to beck and quite hoping that miguel would listen. she discreetly tries to hook you up with him.

not that miguel actually looked for you, he was fooling around with dana at that time. so he may not actually cared about her that much, but he’s not a fucking asshole that loves to play around with other girls when he himself already dating someone.

though the relationship did end shortly after. not exactly surprising.

but something changed in him when he sees you for the first time. or more like—what he saw that one priceless moment during his party and didn’t realize it was you.

“i think i’m in love” miguel mutters softly, pupils dilating as he watched you sucker punched a guy who wouldn’t stop bothering you. earning a few collective gasps from the crowd,

“who?”

“that girl” miguel points when beck comes closer, his eyes are locked in on your figure, still trying to get the guy off your back and it makes miguel’s lips twitch into a sense of proud smile. “damn. she’s got a good strength”

beck looks over at his friend with a smirk. he’s not that good at reading people, but if miguel was ever a cartoon character. there would be hearts drawn on his eyes when he continues to stare at you,

“that’s y/n”

and miguel never whips his head so fast that he’d probably get a whiplash. “you fucking with me? that’s y/n?!”

from that moment on, he cannot stop thinking about you.

since his relationship with dana ended shortly after, miguel finds himself trying to dig into a pieces of small informations about you through gloria and beck. even going around asking people in his class if the knew you.

“she’s in the cheerleading team. you can see her during thursday practice”

it’s what they say. and it confuses the hell out of him.

why haven’t he seen much about you if you’re in the cheerleading team then? fuck. where has he been all this time? not paying much more attention that’s for damn sure.

“she is so dreamy…” miguel sighs, eyeing you through the window glass where he can see you in your practice uniform. laughing with your friends. “wonder if i could make her laugh like that”

carlos and beck share a glance, one of them shrugging their shoulders.

“you know you’ve been doing this shit for weeks now. why don’t you just go and talk to her?” beck advises,

“say that shit like it’s easy, mano” he mutters out, then his eyes wander a bit lower to your thick thighs and he wanted nothing more than for you to put him in a headlock. “she’s a woman—a fine ass woman, and i’m me” he sighs, resting his chin upon the open palm,

carlos shoots beck a ‘what the fuck was that?!’ look and beck could only chuckle,

“does that mean we’re still going to hear you yapping about how in love you are with this chick back at the house since you’re too much of a pussy to ask her out on a date?” carlos questions,

and miguel is quick to push him off the chair

—

extras:

“have you seen y/n at the game today? fuuuckkk, she looks so damn cute”

“hey beck, ask gloria if y/n is looking for a date. i’m single, i promise! pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

“do you guys think if i wear this one she’d finally look my way? wait no— scratch that I don’t want her to think i’m dressing up for her, wait—maybe i do”

“I don’t think i have ever seen a girl look that good wearing a sundress. do you? nope! you don’t!”

“okay fess up! which one of you told y/n bad things about me?! SHE LOOKED AT ME WITH DISGUST THIS MORNING!”

it has been going on for weeks, making his friends get gradually tired of his constant talks about you. because that’s all he ever talks about when he’s at the frat house. when one tries to get him to talk about something else, he would then shift it back to you,

and it makes them love to gossip about him when he’s not around,

“jesus, beck! you had to tell him her name, hadn’t you? now we gotta deal with this puppy love shit!”

“what?! how is this my fault! he’s the one who’s fucking whipped”

“o’hara isn’t fucking stopping and i am this close to beating his ass!”

“can you or your girl just hook him up with this chick?!”

“don’t tell him this or he’ll cry but— y/n isn’t interested” beck winces making the rest groan

“i swear if i hear her name or muñeca falls off that motherfucker’s mouth one more time, i am going to lose it”

[cannellee]

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! draken x omega! reader x omega! emma

— you and emma are both dating and you try everything to court your crush, draken.

cw : reader and emma are flirty ++, the ending is bad

my masterlist: ☆

you and emma were the oh so coveted omega couple of the town. so unusual for two fragile things like you to actually turn to another omega rather than an alpha who can properly take care of you.

but whatever people could think about the stability of your relationship, the both of you were a happy little pair who wanted nothing more than to stay together.

you thought that none of you would ever come to crave the touch of an alpha, to try and attract one. but here you were, desperately looking for the tall man working at his bike shop.

you met him at emma's house, he's a friend of her brother and comes rather regularly. still, emma never actually took the time to properly talk with him so she didn't really knew what he was like.

but a few weeks prior, when you were waiting for emma to get dressed, draken offered to escort the both of you to your destination. his eyes were filled with nothing but genuine concern and you found the three of you enjoying the conversation upon your walk there.

kind, strong, reliable and respectful. draken was definitely a change. not that you or emma was getting tired of your relationship, but your love was big enough to be shared with an extra person.

you didn't need to have a serious talk together, your mind and desires were so in tunes you knew exactly what the other was thinking. you thought having an alpha by your side wasn't so bad after all.

so you spent most of your days courting him. it was subtle, more like attempts at being friendly and appearing small in hopes to spark his protective instincts.

unexpectedly, draken was hard to get. the lovely mixture of both your vanilla scent and emma's honey one usually made people stop in their tracks and whip their heads into your direction. but draken remained stoic, never flinching when your chest brushed against his big arm just a little too close and emma's hand lingered a while longer on his biceps.

so you decided you had to take things further and got even bolder.

you once mindlessly 'forgot' your sweater over when you had to give him the homework he had missed the day before. your scent was sure to be spreading inside his whole room if he didn't throw it out. but he gave it to you the next day, clothe neatly folded in a bag as if your serious courting gift didn't happen. similarly, emma and you would bake a few of your favourite treats, showing off your cooking skills and handing it to him in a pretty box all cutely tied up with pink ribbons and glitters. he ate all of it and thanked you with a neutral smile, not even hinting that he might be just a tiny bit interested.

draken's self control was insane, making you actually question if he was an alpha for how little response he showed when you nearly drowned him in your sugary sweet pheromones. you swore you once saw his eyebrows twitch but you couldn't say anything else as he left you there right after.

you were so upset he wasn't responding accordingly and emma felt as frustrated as you. "what the hell is so disgusting about us that he won't even look our way", she huffed, cuddling closer to you in your nest, feeling vexed at his lack of reaction.

"don't say that emma! I'm sure with a little more time he'll finally give in", she looked at you unconvinced, but didn't say anything, preferring to let you stay optimistic about it.

and how right you were. it has only been two weeks of intensive courting and draken's patience was running thin. he didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how to react, but most importantly, he didn't know if you were aware of how unusually tempting the both of you were being.

draken knew you were dating, and he respected that. he opted for the role of a guard dog, chasing away people who thought you were easy preys and a real walking fantasy.

draken would've lied if he said seeing his two omega friends so close to him and giving him extra attention didn't flatter him. it made him soften up more than he'd like to admit.

he'd taken the habit of buying you guys food and sweets along with pastries, he had your tastes figured out and couldn't help but worry about whether you took care of yourselves properly.

he knew that was probably disrespectful and he didn't want any of you to know how he felt. he wanted to preserve that precious friendship and for you not to associate him with those lust-driven alphas.

when you invited him over to your house in one ultimate attempt to make him crumble, draken thought he was going to explode.

you guided him inside your nest room, forced him down next to the blankets and plushies – which you drowned in your scents a few minutes before – and proceeded to sit next to him on each side.

you settled on watching a movie after all but begging draken to actually stay over even if your little plumbing problem had been solved by him soon after he arrived. he gulped as he watched the two of you reach for the popcorn bowl you put in his lap, bending over each time you reached for a fist of your favourite treat.

draken kept growing hotter with each passing minutes as, weirdly, problems after problems seemed to arise. first, you mysteriously cut yourself, "draken, my finger hurts a lot. I think you should kiss it better". and emma watches with an amused smile how the big man softly treats your tiny wound, gently blowing on it after putting a bandage on it.

draken feels himself lose his patience even more after emma undresses herself, claiming it's always too hot when there are multiple people in the nest. removing her sweater, she's left with nothing but a tight top which barely covers her tits.

draken's scent is getting stronger and you take that as your first little victory as he always was so composed. you turn to emma who gives you a knowing look and you both agree to try something else. you were ready to risk it all, draken was either gonna accept your courting or your friendship was over !

"draken..." you start, "don't you like us?" the question came out more hesitantly than you expected and you waited for his response.

"... what?" he looks at you with visible confusion.

"oh come on, don't tell us you didn't notice how serious it was for us. it's like you don't even care" the annoyance in emma's voice is quickly replaced by hurt, her omega growing sadder at the rejection of her alpha.

draken felt himself panicking, almost clueless until he finally connects the dots. no wonder you were so clingy and acted this cute with him.

draken didn't know how to feel about having your full attention on him, but your little confession had him weak in the knees.

draken wasn't usually one to be this dumb about such topics. he'd say he's actually rather observant. but your attachment to him had totally been misunderstood, thinking you just liked him as a friend. he had forced himself to the point he tried to keep his distance with you because he didn't want to be a homewrecker, even with how his instincts nearly killed him each time he had to watch you close your door leaving him outside when all he wanted was to join you and take care of you like you deserved.

after the initial confusion, draken was ecstatic, like he had finally accomplished his utmost dream.

"if you don't like us courting you, just say it !"

"w-what? oh no, please don't believe that", he quickly denied your accusations, "I just didn't catch on it, I thought you liked me but not like..."

emma huffed, angry that draken was so slow. he noted both of your frustration and made it his priority to appease you.

"I'm sorry. i didn't mean to upset you. and I... really love you"

god, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. you looked at emma's sparkling eyes, your own scent growing sweeter by the joy you felt.

you took that as his permission to cuddle so you shimmied closer to him, strong arms falling on the both of you, shielding you like never before.

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Ch.9

Warnings: Violence, Angst

Ch.8 Here | Ch.10 Here

***

“Rhysand!” Azriel bellowed into the night, wind and rain lashing his face. He didn’t even feel the cold seeping through his wings, mind entirely focused on finding the pathetic excuse of a male. His shadows were searching wildly, waiting for any signal that the High Lord was near.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, showing the winged figure flying quickly away. Azriel growled, darting towards it. All rational thought had been ripped from his brain as he flew through the heavy storm, dark anger clouding his vision. He didn’t think twice before sending his shadows out and wrapping them tightly around the other males wings.

Rhysand gave a shout of pain as he tumbled a short distance before breaking free of the shadows. “You don’t want to go against me, Azriel! I won’t go easy on you this time.” His sneering words only fueled Azriel’s rage, the memory of their fight five hundred years ago pushing him along.

He wouldn’t let Rhysand sweet talk his way out of this one.

“You’re disgusting, Rhysand! What sick game do you play as your mate hides away from you? You think she will truly love you, seeing what you are?” Azriel hovered feet from his brother, watching the violet of his eyes blaze.

“You will never understand the bond Feyre and I have. I can offer her the world, and I intend to do so. Where is your mate, Brother?” A wicked smile crossed his face.

“Oh, that’s right! I married her.”

Azriel didn’t hear the yell that ripped from him as he shot towards Rhysand, hands wrapping around the High Lords throat. Those violet eyes flared before a rush of darkness pulled Azriel away, locking his wings to keep him from flying. He was plummeting to the ground, the rain like knives against his skin. He broke free from Rhysands power with a great roar, rocketing back up to where he hovered.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He yelled, a blue light of power hurtling through his brother’s wing. Rhysand gave a great cry and fell toward the woods below, his remaining wing flapping wildly. He winnowed at the last second, landing easily a few feet down. Azriel landed next to him, hands curled into fists.

Rhysand managed a laugh, looking over the Shadowsinger. “You truly think I didn’t realize? That I didn’t know the second you came to me, begging I leave her alone? I saw it then, even if you didn’t.” He flared his injured wing out, wincing even as his fae healing was already working through it. Azriel’s mind was reeling, processing the words Rhysand had said.

He shook his head. “No. I’m done with your games Rhysand. Nothing you say is credible.” Rhysand smirked again, the never-ending arrogance rolling off him.

“I enjoying pleasing her in front of you, watching how jealous you would get. Do you enjoy the sound of her moans? Her cries?” He took a step closer, pure evil on his face. “Too bad she will never forget the way I touched her. How can you compare to the High Lord?”

Red flooded Azriel’s gaze and he was on top of his brother in a second. Rhysand was taken aback by the speed at which he moved, his shock allowing Azriel to pin him underneath his body as the Shadowsinger began punching his face in. “You. Are. Nothing. To. Her.” Each word was accented by his fists meeting the handsome face of the High Lord, rain and blood mixing together.

Azriel didn’t care if he killed him.

Rhysand was trying to use his power against Azriel, but the sheer force of his incessant pummeling was rendering the male unable to focus. Rhysand had the fleeting thought that he may die like this, at the hands of his own brother. Perhaps he deserved that.

A shout came from somewhere else and Azriel was ripped off of Rhysand, a voice that sounded a million miles away yelling at him. He was thrown to the ground as a blurry figure tended to Rhysand, seeing how bad his wounds are. Azriel wasn’t aware of the tears streaking down his face, drawing paths in the blood that had splattered from his brother. He didn’t feel the burning pain where his hands had split open to the bone, the force of his attack on Rhysand so extreme.

He sat there in the rain as Rhysand was carted away and the figure approached him. The far-away voice was calling his name, shaking him to get his attention. Even if he wanted to respond, he couldn’t. So there he sat, red staining his skin and rain soaking him to the bone.

“Oh, that’s right! I married her,” playing in his mind, over and over.

***

READER POV

You sat by the window, watching the sky outside. You felt that maybe the gods had chosen the sudden storm to match your emotions, tears running down your face in time with the rain. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly? You knew better than to trust Rhysand’s words, you knew you never should’ve believed he might change. He was cold and cruel, and that was that. You felt like a fool for allowing hope to enter your mind.

And Azriel…your chest tightened as you thought about him. Something about him felt so right, so different from Rhysand. He had been the one you could wholly trust, until tonight. Your heart ached at his betrayal. How could he allow you to enter a marriage that he knew was wrong? The small voice in the back of your mind reminded you of Rhysands manipulation tactics, how good he was at getting you to do his bidding. You were certain he pulled the same to Azriel.

It didn’t matter, you told yourself. Azriel had been a part of this lie, the last five centuries all a lie. You were humiliated, hurt, and terribly sad. Rhysand had been your everything for so long. You were chalking up his behavior to what happened Under the Mountain, to his mating bond with Feyre. You didn’t think it would come out that he was always like this.

Your heart broke for your younger self, the innocent girl who was in love with her High Lord. Your heart broke for yourself now, for the love you thought you would find in Azriel. Only to be broken by finding out his part in the lie of your life.

Loud, incessant knocking broke you out of your thoughts. You ran to the door and opened it, assuming you would find Azriel. Instead Cassian stood in front of you, blood covering his hands. “You need to come with me. It’s Az.” Your tears dried instantly as you followed him out of the house. The blood…what had happened?

Cass lead you to where Azriel sat on his knees in the rain. You gasped at the bones showing through the skin on his hands, the blood covering his body. “He won’t move. I can’t get through to him. It’s like he’s disappeared inside himself. I found him out here, with Rhysand.” You looked sharply to Cassian, wondering what the High Lord had done this time. Cass shook his head.

“Azriel was on top of him, beating him to death. If I had arrived a few minutes later I don’t think Rhysand would have made it. I don’t know what happened, but you need to try to get him to talk. I know Rhys has been awful, but he can’t murder the High Lord.” You shuddered to think of the repercussions of that. As much as Rhysand probably deserved a good beating, his death would cause problems through all of Prythian. Likely, it would cause Azriel’s own death as well.

The thought made you sick.

You cautiously walked over to Azriel, kneeling in the wet grass in front of him. A chill ran through your body as you took in his destroyed hands, the mix of his and Rhysands blood on his body. “Az?” He didn’t respond. You moved to be in his line of sight, trying to get him to focus on you. You shoved down the feeling to jump at his empty eyes, instead pulling his damaged hands into yours. “What happened, my love?” Your voice was a whisper, a plea to the gods to help him.

You turned back to Cassian. “Bring me the healing kit from the cabin. I’ll try to stop his bleeding, see if that can help him.” You hope he didn’t notice the slight shake in your words. Your attention went back to Azriel while you waited for the supplies to fix his hands. “I know you’re in there, Az. Please, look at me.”

Silence.

Cassian was back, handing you the kit you had requested. You pulled out a needle and thread, the action too similar to just a few hours ago with Rhysand. How had everything gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?

You used the wet skirts of your gown to wipe the blood away the best you could before carefully stitching him up. “You did not cause the downfall of my marriage,” you began, needing to fill the horrible quiet. “I understand his manipulations all too well. As hurt as I am that you knew he was lying, I know how easy it is to be trapped in his games.”

You moved to the next hand. “In it all, I was always drawn to you. You were my closest friend, the breath of fresh air I needed. I wonder now if I was drawn to you for another reason. If my heart somehow knew I had chosen wrong, that you were the one for me.” A sad laugh escaped you. “How pathetic, isn’t it? You were there all along, and I didn’t see you.”

You finished the second hand, pulling bandages out to wrap over the stitches. “You’ve always been there for me, Az. My protector. And I was allowing my husband to torture you for 500 years.” You shook your head. “I should’ve seen it sooner.” You held his now-bandaged hands in your own, looking up at him.

You nearly jumped out of your skin to see him looking back.

“What i’m trying to say, Az, is I love you. I love you deeper than I ever thought possible. When i’m around you I feel complete, like part of my soul is home. It’s always been you, hasn’t it?” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, hoping he was feeling the same.

He stared at you.

Your confidence faltered. “Please, say something. Anything.” You would rather he reject you than continue being this shell of a person. You needed to see that he was going to be okay.

You felt sick when he pulled his hands from yours, still not saying anything. You ducked your head, hot tears sliding down your face. Was it too much all at once? Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown that at him, when he was clearly in no state to receive it. You moved to stand, embarrassed by what had happened.

Hands gripped onto your waist, pulling you forcefully down to the Shadowsinger. You gasped in surprise, looking up at him. He dipped his head down to yours, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. He kissed you like it was the last thing he would do, the only thing he could do. You fisted your hands into his soaking shirt, welcoming the taste and feel of him. He pulled away once you were both gasping for air, resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” he whispered, hazel eyes shining. “I never should have allowed him to even look at you.” The words came out in a growl, and you couldn’t deny the heat that flickered in you at his tone.

“It’s not your fault,” you soothed, raising a hand to cup his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“It is. I could’ve stop it. Should’ve stopped him.”He moved his head, pressing a soft kiss to your hand. “I knew you were made for me.”

You ignored the skip in your heartbeat at his words, at the implication they held. Now was not the time to delve into that. “Come home with me, Azriel. Away from this place.” He nodded, eyes still closed at your touch. You wrapped your arms around him and began winnowing the two of you away to Velaris.

***

Rhysand healed perfectly fine. He went to Feyre the next day, and their mating bond was sealed. Of course, no one told you this. You knew when you woke up in pain, a searing burn traveling down your arm. You had raised it in fright, certain you had caught fire.

Instead, you watched as the marriage tattoo disappeared from your skin.

He had released you.

It didn’t bring you the joy you thought it would. Not when Azriel was still half of himself, a ghost in the dark. His shadows interacted with you more than he did. You brought him food and drink, all of which he left untouched.

Cassian returned once the business at the camp was over, concerned for his brother as well. “I’d never seen him in such an uncontrollable rage before,” he said, drinking the coffee you had made. “He was someone else in that moment.”

You sipped from your own mug, thinking over everything that had happened. “Azriel knew. That Rhys was only using me. I imagine 500 years of anger can turn a person irrational.” Cassian murmured his agreement, the two of you standing in silence.

You sighed, turning to the stove and setting your mug down. “Will you take this to him?” You asked Cass, handing him two bowls of soup you had just finished. “He won’t take anything from me. I think he’s too ashamed. Maybe he will eat with you?”

He took the warm bowls, nodding. “I’ll try.”

You gave him a grateful smile and started cleaning up the dishes you had used. Cassian left, determined to get Azriel to eat. You hummed as you cleaned the kitchen, lost in thought. You were concerned Azriel was going to wither away to nothing, in both body and mind. You couldn’t seem to get through to him. You were beginning to wonder if Cassian was able to when you heard a loud bang and shouting coming from down the hall.

You paused, looking towards the doorway. Azriel appeared in it, eyes wild. Cassian was a few feet behind, waving his arms at you. “Go! You need to go!” You didn’t understand why he was so panicked.

“What is wrong?” You asked, looking between the two males. Azriel moved closer, caging you against the counter behind you.

“Did you make the soup?” His voice was low, eyes dark. You nodded, unsure if he was upset with you or came to say it was the most delicious meal he ever had. “Why would you do that?”

You blinked. “You haven’t eaten. Why should I let you starve?” You looked behind him to Cassian, who seemed prepared for a fight.

Azriel leaned closer, nose dragging along your neck. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he growled, breath fanning over your skin. You couldn’t help the way you arched into him, the way his touch drove you crazy.

“Why not?” Your voice was shaky, his hands coming to rest on your waist. Your eyes caught Cassians behind him again, shifting on his feet.

“Apparently,” he started, clearing his throat. “You two are mates.”

***

this may end up being slightly longer than i thought….but still close to the end!! i’m sorry this chapter took so long to get out!! please let me know what you think <3

Taglist: @amara-moonlight @tothestarsandwhateverend @onlyangellh @hnyclover @greenapplesaucepi @just-a-social-casualty-1 @heyyitsnat21 @mirandasidefics @bubybubsters @mybestfriendmademe @thaynarajejheje @brujitafantomatico @justdreamstars @thisblogisaboutabook @lees-chaotic-brain @abeltownshipslittlebitch @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @fxckmiup @its-sam-allgood @miluiel1 @nickishadow139 @hailqueenconquer @mika-no-sekai-blog @books-hlmc @stonerpersona @starsinyourseyes @meshellexplosionmurder @acourtofbatboydreams @captainsbaby @anuttellaa @val-writesstuff @isavanhoni

* crossed out blogs it wouldn’t let me tag! if i missed you this time please let me know if you’d like to be tagged :)

[55sturn]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ I WAS BLIND TO SEE

↳ masterlist!

↳ summary: in which y/n spent years begging chris to let her into his heart, but he was unrelenting, so eventually she gave up. but after years of her pining helplessly, chris realizes that he grew to love her back and races against the clock to get her back.

↳ pairings: chris sturniolo × female!reader

↳ warning: swearing, lowkey toxic!chris, angst for like majority of the fic, oblivious!reader, oblivious!chris, mentions of alcohol, justin’s lowkey a dick, chris is a literal fucking dumbass, i love the whole “idiots in love” trope.

↳ important things to note: this is based off of infrunami by steve lacy. also not proofread at all. oops.

THIRD PERSON POV

it was no shocker to find out how deep y/n's love for chris ran, after all she had been in love with him since they were sophmores in high school. she loved every single thing there was to love about him, and the less lovable things, she understood where they stemmed from.

she had a very deep connection with him, they had been the closet out of him, his brothers, and her. he could turn to her for anything, and vice versa. however, there was one issue.

chris didn't reciprocate the love she felt. he expressed numerous times to anyone who asked, that she was his best friend, nothing more. he saw her as the female extension of him and his brothers.

the only person he couldn't tell that to though, was her. so instead of letting her down easy, he ignored it. and that caused more problems than he saw coming. because of his naturally flirty nature, it filled the girl with false hope, it led her to believe that maybe her feelings were returned.

no one was able prepare for the inevitable fallout that occurred when chris' feelings, or lack thereof, came to light.

FLASHBACK

chris was sitting at his desk when nick knocked on his door, he welcomed him into his room with a barely discernible "come in."

"chris we gotta talk." nick muttered, standing in the doorway with his arms folded and a frustrated look on his face.

"what's up?" chris sighed, rolling his eyes as he turned in his gaming chair to face the older triplet.

"you need to tell y/n about the way you feel, well the way you don't feel."

"why? it's not like i'm hurting her." chris scoffed, not really wanting to break his best friend's heart.

"chris, she literally just spent an hour talking to me on facetime about how she wants to confess her feelings to you directly because instead of being honest, you're playing into her feelings! i can't keep giving her advice and getting her hopes up knowing that you are just going to crush her."

"whatever nick, i'll talk to her later."

and so, when y/n came by later that day, she gathered the nerve to tell chris with a shaky breath and unsteady hands.

"chris can we talk?"

"yeah what's up?" chris hummed, knowing very well where this was going, and despite the fact that he was just about to break her heart, he felt some sort of twisted pride stir in his chest. he liked knowing that someone so close to him was pining for him, it made him feel powerful, and he hated that it made him feel that way. it truly disgusted him.

"i know this probably isn't a secret by any means but i've got feelings for you. like 'i'm in love with you' feelings and i don't know if i've been reading into things too much or if i've read into them correctly but it seems like you return them, or at least act like you do and if that's the case, i'm glad i told you. and if i've read them completely wrong, i'm about to feel like the biggest fool possible." y/n rambled, breathing out a nervous laugh as chris' eyes bore into hers.

"listen y/n, you're a great girl. any guy would be lucky to be loved by you the way you love me but i'm sorry, i don't see you that way. i know i've fed into your feelings and your flirting, and it makes me feel like such a jackass but i didn't know how to tell you and i really didn't want to break your heart. you're my best friend and i would give anything to return your feelings but i don't and it wouldn't be fair for me to pretend i do." chris whispered, his heart tearing in two as he watched the hurt and horror flash in her eyes as she realized that she had read everything wrong. his arms slowly slid around her shoulders, pulling in her into him, or at least in attempt to.

"no. you don't get to hug me after you just admitted that you played with my feelings. you literally just contradicted yourself, the fuck do you mean 'it wouldn't be fair to pretend to return your feelings." that's exactly what you did! god this was a mistake." she spat, turning on her heels and making her way up the stairs leading from chris' room. she grabbed her jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs and left without so much as a word.

and that was the last that chris had heard from her until they ended up back in boston at the same time.

FLASHBACK OVER

y/n sighed as she made her up the sturniolos' driveway. her family had agreed to a huge family dinner with the triplets' family and she was dreading having to see chris. she was on perfectly fine terms with nick and matt, they had actually grown closer. y/n just refused to be an active presence and figure in chris' life. whenever she wanted to hang out, it’d be away from their house. away from chris.

knocking on the door, a small smile pulled at her lips. she missed mary-lou and jimmy, she hadn't had much time to see them since going back home, she had just been busy with other things, and the fact that she was slightly avoiding them because she had a feeling chris or one of his brothers told them about what had happened.

"y/n! my sweet girl i've missed you." mary-lou cooed as she opened the door, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"i've missed you too, i'm sorry i haven't come by yet, i've been busy." the girl pouted slightly, feelings guilty for staying away for as long as she had.

"busy ignoring a certain boy of mine?" the older woman teased gently, being fully aware of what had gone down and her heart hurt for the young girl. she knew what chris felt, she could see in his eyes when he spoke about his former best friend, a mother always knows. she also knows that chris just hasn't been made aware of the fact that he feels the same as y/n once did.

as mary-lou led y/n up the stairs and into the dining room where the sturniolos' and y/n's parents sat, y/n felt her chest grow tight as all eyes, including chris' fell on her.

"hey everyone, sorry i'm late." she laughed, returning the hug that jimmy pulled her into as he stood up.

"don't worry about it, we're just glad you showed up." jim smiled down at her as she took her place between justin and her mother, unfortunately across from chris.

chris' forced his gaze to his lap as he fiddled with his fingers, ever since the night he turned her down, a strange feeling had been stirring and beating relentlessly in the pit of his stomach, he almost felt like he had made a mistake rejecting her.

as the dinner went on, chris was determined to meet her gaze but she was just as determined to not look at him, in fear that she would crumple into a sobbing wreck. she tried to move on but it was hard when he had already held her heart for so long. she feared that she would never love someone the way she loved and still deep down, loves him.

after the dinner had finished, the adults gathered in the living room, talking about shit their kids didn't care about or had heard a million times already, so the rest of them moved to the deck, all claiming a chair as their own while justin grabbed a beer for all of them.

"so mousey, whatcha been up to, like really? seeing anybody?" justin hums, watching the twenty year old girl that he considered his baby sister shift awkwardly in her chair.

"quit calling me that." y/n groans, rolling her eyes at the nickname that justin had given her back when she was in elementary school, she was so quiet compared to his brothers that he referred to her as a mouse which led to him branding her "mousey."

"and before you ask again, i've seen a couple guys here and there but nothing really stuck.” she sighs, taking a sip of her beer as justin lods, kissing his teeth with a teasing smirk on his face.

“what about you chris?”

“justin don’t.” chris warns, glaring at his older brother as he sees through justin’s plan. justin is fully convinced that chris is in love with y/n, someone just has to spell it out for him. matt and nick both look at each other with wide eyes as they clue into what justin is trying to do.

y/n scoffs, sliding her beer across the table with a roll of her eyes before she stands up,

“you’re a dick.”

“y/n wait.” chris calls out, jogging after as she makes her away around the house to her car, shaking her head as she walks away.

“what do you want chris?” she sighs, turning to face him and look at him, really look at him for the first time that night.

“i’m sorry about justin, he’s convinced that i’m running from my feelings or some shit and he’s trying to make me see that.”

“that’s nice chris. you know, i came here tonight thinking that it’’d be easy to see you after how many months but no, it’s been just as hard as the night you broke my heart. it’s hard because i miss you, so fucking much but i can’t get over you. and i can’t get over you hurting me, whether you meant to or not.”

“i miss you too, y/n. come back please.” chris whispers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he stares at the girl he called his best friend.

“no. i don’t think you do. you miss the me that would follow you around like a lost puppy and feed your ego with all the attention i gave you. you miss the love i gave you because you didn’t have to search anywhere else for it. i was some sort of fall back for you. and if i stuck around after you broke my heart to hear you say that you loved me, knowing it wasn’t the same way that i love you, it would’ve killed me chris.”

“i’m sorry, i really am. i just miss my best friend.”

“i stopped being your best friend long before i confessed my feelings to you.” she whispers, the raw emotion she felt as she recounted how things changed evident in her voice, lea chris confused by what she meant.

“what?”

“you stopped seeing me as your best friend quite a while ago. you started seeing me as this your could always count on to boost your ego, to fill your head with this idea that you were a god, that you were the center of my universe. you stopped treating me like your best friend and started treating me like i was a fucking groupie, chris. you stopped remembering important things i told you about myself, you got me a copy of a book that i couldn’t stand, that you knew i couldn’t stand because when i first told you about, you laughed at how insane i sounded. and you said it was for my birthday, but my birthday was three weeks before that. you started only paying attention to things i said that made you feel good, and i thought that if i’d dismiss it and pretend that it wasn’t happening, that it’d go away. i figured you were just sorting out your feelings. but no, you were playing me.”

“that’s not tr-“

“yes it is. i excused it by convincing myself you were busy. that you were stressed. but in reality, you stopped giving a fuck about me and only gave a fuck about the attention i paid you, and now that it’s gone, you feel lost and helpless. so no, you don’t miss me.” she replies, her voice slowly becoming void of all emotion, as if she had accepted what had happened and moved to face her car, before turning back to him.

“for what it’s worth, i miss my best friend too, but when i look at you now, i don’t see him. i see a person who looks like him, but is completely different. and justin is right, you’re running from your feelings but i don’t think they’re feelings for me. i love you, always have, always will. i wish i could say that you love me too, but i don’t think you do.”

chris watches her car back out of the driveway and speed down the street with his heart in his hands, forced to grapple with just how badly he hurt her.

months had passed and chris was still completely shut out of y/n’s life, and it left a bitter and extremely hard pill for chris to swallow. he knew he fucked up and he knew asking her for forgiveness was an insane ask but he missed her.

and not the attention she gave him. he missed her. her warmth, the fuzzy feeling in his chest that she gave him when he’d crack a joke and look around to see if she found it funny. he missed the way he could non-verbally communicate with her the way he can with his brothers. all he’d have to do is send her a look and she’d know what he was thinking. he missed her hugs and the way she could comfort him in a split second. he missed the person that knew him better than he knew himself, and he missed the girl that he knew better than anyone.

everyone around chris knew what was happening, they saw it in the way he’d sulk whenever nick mentioned some guy she was trying to date. or the way his eyes would soften at the mention of her and matt hanging out before his face would fall when matt says they’re going out to some random place to hang out. in the way chris’ eyes would brighten when he saw something that reminded him of her or her favourite movie showed up on the netflix previews.

everyone around chris knew that he wasn’t just homesick for his favourite person, he was lovesick too. they could see the gears turning in his head and heart, that he was slowly starting to openly show his love for her, the same love she felt for him. chris was guarded and haunted by girls that have hurt him, they knew he closed off his heart to anything but familial and platonic love, so when genuine, deep romantic feelings started blooming in his chest like the flowers in spring, he didn’t know what they were. he always thought it was platonic love for his best friend, but everyone could see it was more.

everyone but chris. until the day he saw his feelings for what they really were.

FLASHBACK

chris walked upstairs, halting halfway up to text his friend back as he half listened to nick and matt’s shared conversation, not really care until he hears a sentence that left a sour taste in his mouth.

“y/n wants to ask brendon to be her boyfriend. she thinks it could go well.”

“is she over chris?”

“not really but she wants to try and move on.”

chris rolled his eyes and stomped up the rest of the stairs, not understanding why there was such an angry feeling building in his chest like a fire rapidly consuming everything in its wake.

throughout the day, chris let his anger consume his every action, his every response, every single reaction he has to anything. it was pissing his brothers off because they had no clue why he was angry. until nick pieced it together.

“you heard our conversation about y/n didn’t you? that’s when you started acting a like a dick to everyone and everything.”

“whatever nick it doesn’t matter.”

“you’re fucking jealous, aren’t you?”

“who gives a fuck if i am?”

“why are you jealous if you don’t see her that way?” nick pressed, a smug grin on his face as he pushed the youngest triplet, itching to get the long awaited confession out of chris.

“i’m not jealous.”

“right because if you were, that would mean you actually feel the same way y/n does. which would also mean that literally everyone else in the world was right about you from the fucking get-go.” matt snickered, finding joy in teasing chris for being a complete and utter dumbass for so long.

“oh my god, you’re right. is that what you wanna hear? that i’ve been a complete jackass to her for no reason? that i do feel the same and that everyone is right? that i have no reason to feel the way i do at the thought of her being with another guy? cause if so, there you fucking go.” chris snapped, yelling and cursing out his brothers with misplaced anger.

matt just laughed as he quickly merged into the turning lane, taking chris to y/n’s apartment.

“you know what you need to do.”

FLASHBACK OVER

chris sighs as he raises his fist to the door, his entire body vibrating. his nerves were on fire, he had absolutely no clue how to go about what he was about to do. he didn’t even know if it was a good idea.

as he drops his fist back to his side, the door opens, travelling y/n standing on the other side, her hair tucked beneath her hoodie, the one that chris had gotten her gotten the prior year for christmas because the colour looked pretty on her. chris felt his breath get stuck in his throat and his heart rate quicken as he met her eyes.

“chris what the fuck are you doing here?”

“i know you think i don’t love you.” chris starts, pushing his way into her apartment as she watches him, confused etched along her features as her brows knit together.

“okay, and?”

“and i know you think i stopped paying attention to you. but you’re wrong. you are all i think about, every second of every fucking day, you are running through my mind on a loop. i only ever think about the way you love cheesy chick flicks but will never say it out loud because you don’t want to be made fun of or the way you hate when people dog-ear the pages in their books because it ruins the quality. i only ever think about how much you miss boston in the summer because it’s the perfect temperature, but you hate it in the winter because you hate snow. or how you stop to pet every animal you see just so they know what it’s like to feel a loving touch. or how you refuse to wear anything in your favourite colour because you’re scared of attaching bad memories to it and hating the colour because it’s been your favourite since you were seven. or how feel bad when you don’t give the squishmallows on your bed equal attention because you believe they can feel things. or the fact that your favourite movie is coraline because you relate her deeply but will never your mom that in fear of breaking her heart. or the fact you never once deserved to be treated the way you were by me because i couldn’t see my feelings for what they were.” chris rambles, taking a deep breath as he looks at her, her mouth open as she prepares to speak but chris cuts her off,

“i know that you won’t be able to believe me right away, but i want to prove to you that i love you. it took me a long time to realize it because i’m a fucking idiot. i always have been but this love has been here since the moment i met you, i just confused it for something platonic when it was and is so much more than that. so please hear me out and don’t ask that guy to be your boyfriend, ask me. i want to be the one to love you for the rest of your life. i know i’ve fucked up, i will spend forever and a day trying to make up for it. i know i’m late but please, just give me one more chance.”

“okay.” she whispers, her eyes watering as she finally gets to hear everything she’s ever wanted chris to say. chris smiles, looping his fingers in the edges of hoodie pocket as he tugs her forward, pressing his lips to her so feverishly that he’s sure his lips will bruise but he’s scared to waste another moment, that when he opens his eyes this will all just be some sick and twisted dream. but when he pulls away and opens his eyes, he’s met with the reality that she’s there, her hands cradling his face as she wipes away the tears he didn’t even know existed before pressing another kiss to his lips.

“i’ve always been right in front of you chris, i’m just glad you finally opened your eyes.”

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[vagabond-umlaut]

gray cashmere

Solitude makes many a tough decision too easy to make.

However, is one truly ever 'one'? Or are they 'one' from a collection of many such 'one's' — guaranteed to be affected by the actions of one another?

Strictly isolated systems are mere hypotheses, anyways.

[Alternatively: Amanai Riko's life overlaps with that of three young students from Tokyo Jujutsu High for only fifty-five hours, yet the effects they leave on her and the effects she leaves on them– they can be felt even after a period of one-hundred-and-fifty-five months.]

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! fem! reader; 4400 words of me trying my best to forget the horror of the 'Hidden Inventory Arc' by writing THE CANON-DIVERGENT FIC I DESPERATELY NEEDED TO FUNCTION ATP; riko is the little sister yours truly the reader never had; kuroi is the gentle sunshine on a winter afternoon; THE sweet romance between satoru & reader; suguru is the most awesome best friend and/or brother figure ever; FUSHIGURO TOJI IS HIS OWN WARNING; Hidden Inventory Arc Spoilers with Canon-Level Violence; Angst with a Happy Ending.

▸ notes: The reader's CT was to read others' thoughts freely without them knowing, but after a binding vow she undertook when young [disgusted with the way the old geezers governing the jujutsu society misused it for their personal gains], she lost it, gaining the ability to instantaneously kill an entity the moment she opts to read their mind in place. Not even a special-grade can stop her attack. Aniki = older brother in Japanese.

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

DAY 1; 11:44

Yours is a beautiful, awful life when it's the one chosen for the sake of all.

Everyone everywhere will remain smiling, crying, speaking, yelling, moving – living, if put in a word– yet you'll be nothing more than a name and, if lucky, a fading face filed away in a mind. Yet, yet, yet– everyone everywhere will remain smiling, crying, speaking, yelling, moving— and one young Amanai Riko thinks that's what makes her fate so bearable.

Too bad one of her three bodyguards doesn't think along such lines.

"She's too young to die. Why is she even agreeing to this merger?"

Your quiet voice breaks Riko's scuttling from one room to another, in search of the things she needs for school.

Craning her neck, she peeks into the room, only to find you standing by the windows, holding a cup of tea delicately as you look intently at your companions. Geto's shoulders rise and fall in a short sigh. Gojo gets up from his slouch on the couch to drape an arm round you.

The girl thinks it's the softest she has seen the goggles-wearing boy appear in the time you all have been here.

(Honestly, this is the first time she is seeing Gojo act so careful and you, so disquietened, in the three hours the three of you have been here—

A jarring contrast to the way the boy introduced you as 'the coolest and hottest jujutsu sorcerer ever' who also happens to be his 'better half' while you greeted them with a beam (which did not reach your eyes) and turned away, focus switching to your beeping mobile.)

(Geto looked like an old grandpa then, when he whispered to Kuroi, a wide smile on his face as he looked at you, how difficult it was for the two of you to get together as a couple – and how happy and relieved he and your other friends are now, watching the two of you be so very in love with each other. Kuroi let out only a tiny quiet sigh with a small gentle smile at his words.)

Your boyfriend's voice pulls her away from her mind.

"You heard the brat, didn't you? She is Tengen-sama; Tengen-sama is her. So she isn't really going to die; she's going to live forever and ever and eve–"

"I thought I was the one who couldn't read between lines well in this relationship, 'Toru," you interrupt him, frowning. Riko finds it too hard to stifle the giggle that threatens to follow – albeit, the threat doesn't stay strong for long, vanishing away at your next words. Thrown into the room, a mix of visible anger and despair.

"The kid was obviously spouting all that nonsense, more as a means to convince herself than to convince us," you say; the young student considers bursting into the room, exclaiming she ain't a little kid, yet a voice in her urges her to stay put outside the door. Begrudgingly, she listens to it. You continue, tone the same as before.

"There's some part in Riko-chan which doesn't really want to merge with Master Tengen, but a burden once dumped on one's shoulders has to be carried, and Riko-chan has no option left but to choke that wily voice in her head until it quietens forever."

Gojo's eyes drift over to the door once. A bit startled and a lot scared, Riko shrinks into herself, yet budges not an inch from her spot. Focus returning to your puckered features, the junior high schooler watches him croon softly into your ears, "Babe, how about we discuss–"

"I don't think there'll be a later, Satoru," you say, then exhale air out in a burst of clear frustration, "And I seriously cannot understand how in this world you and Geto senpai can be so relaxed about this? Y'all are answering Yaga's calls as if Riko's an important but lifeless mail, while we three are some FedEx employees and not three sorcerers leading a girl a few years younger than us to her death, grinning and singing."

The cup in your grasp looks dangerously close to shattering; not to mention the way your cursed energy swells and swells until it comes too close to suffocating the hell out of her — it ebbs away faster than it came.

Face morphing into an easy smile, the girl watches you slip out from under your boyfriend's arm and walk over to her. She wishes the grin she shoots back is half as bright as she hopes it is.

"Hey, Riko-chan," you greet, voice shifting into a soothing melody, "Ready to go to school? Geto senpai's already called the driver. He must be waiting downstairs."

"Oh, I see," Riko responds, a bit lost as her gaze rakes over your face, then darts over to the two still in the room. The weird-bangs-sorcerer offers a small smile while he cuts an apple into slices. The other boy's eyes remain trained on the back of your head, upbeat nature nowhere to be seen.

She looks back at you. Kuroi asks her to hurry via a frantic yell of her name. The girl sighs and slowly moves into the direct line of sight of everyone.

"Have any of you seen a thin blue notebook anywhere? I can't find my music no– OH MY GOD, ONEE-CHAN!!! YOUR STUPID AS HECK BOYFRIEND DID NOT JUST MAKE PAPER PLANES OUT OF MY NOTES, DID HE!?!?"

———

DAY 2; 19:55

"Satoru is not really bad, y'know?"

Your comment arrives few hours and many adventures later – though Riko wonders how much of an adventure they were for you or the two upperclassmen of yours, given the way you three were kicking ass for the entirety of the time, both before and after Kuroi was captured.

Lips curving into a teasing smile – one which the woman, taking care of her since the latter's childhood, shares – the teenager returns her attention to you.

You blink back, a tiny smile playing with the corner of your lips before it widens, digging into your cheeks and crinkling your eyes.

"What?" you ask with a giggle, "Is there something on my face? Or is suggesting my boyfriend to be kind of good really that outlandish of a concept?"

"Hmm, do you want the nice answer or the honest answer?" Riko asks back, plopping a spoonful of the ice cream you bought, then breaking into a shiver as her brain freezes from how insanely cold it is. Neither you nor Kuroi bothering to hide your chuckles, you hum. "I'm not sure which I will find honest and which, nice; why don't you shoot both my way, Riko-chan?" you suggest then add, mirth gleaming in your voice, "Of course, when you're okay again, only then."

The girl thinks of retorting to you with a silent glare but opts to think better of it. Couple of minutes pass in almost silence, Kuroi and you chit-chatting about Okinawa in general while the three of you amble down the sidewalk lining the inky-black sea, casting eerie shadows in the sparse lights dotting the streets — when she decides to reply to your suggestion from before.

"I don't really think Gojo-san is a bad person," She says, stopping and offering you a smile over her shoulder. You too stop and accept it with a bright smile of your own.

Riko continues, "I mean, yeah, he's very, very annoying all the time – making fun of me and calling me a kid or brat – but if you chose him to be your boyfriend, I guess he's kind of fine. Maybe. Plus, you don't really seem to have a bad taste," she adds with an appreciative once-over at the sundress you're wearing.

You crack an amused grin. Riko turns to her caretaker. "C'mon, Kuroi. Tell onee-chan. She has a pretty nice taste in outfits, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, you do," the other woman is quick to agree with a kind grin, "I suppose Riko-sama is correct in saying this; although, Riko-sama..." trailing off, Kuroi smiles at the addressed girl the way she used to in her childhood, whenever the latter used to babble the stuff children always do, and gently rebukes.

"Having a good taste in outfits is not the best indicator of someone's taste in men. You must never view a person from an angle as shallow as that."

"Kuroi-san is right, Riko-chan," you pitch in your two cents an instant later, then cast the woman beside you a sly glance, "Though I wonder if that was an indirect criticism of 'Toru... I hope it wasn't – was it?"

"No, of course not," Kuroi denies with a small laugh. Riko watches you crack a freer smile at her words, which slowly softens when you move your gaze back to her. The ice cream in her hand seems four seconds away from melting; still the girl decides to ignore it in favour of giving you her undivided attention.

(Ever since she met you three, you've always struck the young girl as someone a bit... different.

From the way you train your focus on your opponents during a fight; to the way you speak, neither too loud nor too quiet, just the perfect loudness and pitch required to snatch everyone's attention and keep them for yourself; to the way you carry yourself, neither as pompous arrogant akin Gojo nor as discreet smug as Geto, but as a girl who is aware of her worth and won't hesitate to show another their place, if the need so arises.

Riko thinks if she lived a little longer, she might have wanted to make you her role model. Not that it matters now, though.)

Your musing voice break through her thoughts.

"Satoru was the one who suggested this trip," you say, sharing a half-smile with Kuroi, "The best option would have been to take you back to the school as soon as possible, where you and Kuroi-san would be safe and sound. Plus, our mission too would have been complete. An extra feather to our cap, given we delivered the Star Plasma Vessel to Tengen-sama and secured the foundations the entire Japan is based on. Yet he argu–"

You abruptly fall silent, the loving look on your face withering to one of helplessness and profound sadness when the ticking hands of the wrist watch you wear catches your eye; and you shove your emotions beneath a forced chuckle.

"Oh no, it's almost eight," you say, a faux buoyancy to your words, "Do you wanna go back to the hotel and have dinner there, Riko? Or some place outside, maybe? Our schedule's packed tomorrow – our littlest Riko-chan needs some good sleep tonight to not be fussy tomorrow, doesn't she?"

Glancing at Kuroi, only to find her with the same tense cheerfulness, Riko stifles a sigh and parts her lips into a mirthful beam she doesn't feel at all.

"I really wanna try the soki soba and the yashigani. Do you know any good restaurants nearby?"

You nod exaggeratedly, lips thinning into a solemn line though the faint ray of fun can still be made through the grey clouds cast over your irises. "Don't you worry, Riko sama. Your two faithful servants will certainly find a place to dine to your liking. You just keep being the cute little princess that you are."

The girl opens her mouth to snap back at being called a little girl yet again – you aren't very different from your boyfriend, after all – then shuts it, then opens it again, a teasing giggle wanting to bubble out.

"Y'know, onee-chan," she says, skipping over to you and smiling in an innocent fashion, "I answered your second question, but I never gave a reply to the first one – you wanna know it?"

You take a second before shrugging. "Um, yeah, why not?"

Throwing a mischievous glance to Kuroi, who hides her mouth with a palm and looks away, shoulders shaking a little, Riko returns her eyes to your expectant smile. And beckoning you to come near, whispers.

"There isn't anything on your face. But the foundation's on your neck and shoulders is kind of off, I guess. Were you bitten by a bug, onee–"

An obnoxiously cheery ringtone cuts the girl off. Your face burning a deep hue of coyness, she watches you pluck your phone out of your bag, then walk a few steps away, voice dropping to a hushed murmur – which takes a minute before growing shrill then silent. Your cheeks and ears sport the deepest shade of red Riko's ever seen.

Asking them for a little more time, grin so sheepish and flustered, you whirl on your heels and walk a couple of feet away, your hand fiddling with the Okinawa keychain your boyfriend bought you today at noon.

Lips quirking in a fond smile, Riko looks away from your shy giggling figure to the chuckling Kuroi, to the big ocean waves crashing on the sands below.

Yeah, it might've been good to have a chance at a bit longer life.

———

DAY 3; 15:08

This is not good.

Oh heavens no. This is so not good.

Tears springing forth and streaming down her cheeks, Riko moves to take a step towards you. Then, stills when you put up a bloodied hand asking her to stop. Face scrunched into a smile which, the little vessel knows, conveys nothing of the agony tearing at your insides; you cast a glance at the gaping hole in your palm, then drift your gaze back to her.

Something acidic and pungent surges to the girl's mouth — though not at you, never at you – but at herself, the sole reason why you're clutching your profusely bleeding wound, left by the bullet originally meant for her; why Geto stands shocked and numb, with a hundred curses looming round the room, ready to attack at the slightest hint of an order; why Gojo's probably lying near the torii gates, dead and swarmed by cursed maggots – if what she heard less than a minute back, isn't a lie, that is.

Judging from the sharp gasp of air you drew in then — it isn't, Riko thinks.

Your smile stays as pathetically serene as ever; the only traitor now being those rivulets of grief carving their courses on your face. You part your lips in a heart-wrenching plea.

"Run, Riko-chan. Run to a place far from here. Somewhere none can find you. And don't ever come back. Please."

Shaking her head a 'No!' as fiercely as she can, the girl bites back her sobs. A cold hand pulls her by the shoulder towards the entrance; she keeps her feet firmly planted to the ground.

Everything was going so, so well– why then did this abominable man have to appear out of nowhere and upend everything in her life? Only when she realized she did not want to be the sacrifice for the sake of everyone else, and that, she too could afford an ounce of selfishness — why then did this man have to appear and extinguish that singular flame of hope lit in her world? Why, why, why—

A harsh bark of a laughter barges into her thoughts.

Your eyes develop a pinch of panic as they travel from the man you froze in the entrance to them, then back to him. The victim of your cursed technique sneers.

"You're that girl with the psychic powers, aren't ya? Thought you can only use your power to kill a person; since when can you freeze them like a statue, eh— can see, hear and feel everything, but can't move a single muscle, except to speak, huh? Or, no, wait–" A second raucous laugh rings through the halls and corridors; you clench your wounded hand into a fist so tight, she thinks she too can feel the pain weighing on your senses right now.

The assassin jeers, "You must be so, so tired to not be able to kill this poor cursed energy-less bastard, hm? And on top of all that, you also must not have refined the technique enough to shut me up, yeah?" A vein throbs in your temple; the man speaks, more gleeful than ever.

"And given how I'm slowly losing the numbness in my arms and legs... your technique is so fucking weak, girl. And the jujutsu society called you their messiah, eh? Fucking fools, the whole lot. Their six eyes in a pool of his blood outside while their other trump card's soon to meet a similar miserable end at this monkey's hands. How funny, ain't it?"

Giving no semblance of a reply to him, you turn your eyes back to her – no, to Geto who's standing behind her – and urge him, so desperate and desolate, every breath you take a short jerky heave of your chest, "Take Riko somewhere safe, senpai. And don't return till you've gotten help. Now, go. Quick."

Craning her neck upwards, the teenager catches a glimpse of the boy grasping her shoulder firmly — hoping he'll refuse to listen to you and stay right there, fighting the monster right beside you — but finds no fragment of dissent on his face.

Extreme reluctance? Yes.

Profound melancholy? Yes.

Stifling resignation? Yes, yes, yes.

But dissent? No.

It makes an appearance, now and then, but never persists for long.

She makes yet another attempt to get closer to you.

"Onee-chan, no," Riko begs, snarling and thrashing from under Geto's unyielding hold on her arm now, "please don't do this. I wanna live my life to the fullest, but I cannot if I don't have y'all beside me. So, you–"

"Riko-chan, no–"

"–ask me to go away like an escapist coward–"

"Riko-chan, listen–"

"–staying right over here, next to–"

"RIKO!"

The harsh call of her name makes the girl stumble and stutter. It isn't you who called her so; it's Geto, peering down at her with moisture in his eyes. An ugly sob crawls out her throat. He mumbles, "You're way too young to understand all this, but know that, if you're out there in the world– safe, free and happy– the Star Plasma Vessel mission can be marked successful only then. Whatever sacrifices all of us made or are going to make today," a glance at you shows the bittersweet smile you're wearing; Riko's wails worsen, "they won't make any sense if, at the end of the day, you're harmed. So, please listen to us and escape with Kuroi-san, yeah?"

The man to her not-so-distant left flexes his fingers a bit. The three of you look at him before looking at one another. You look a few minutes away from passing out, skin paling and breaths growing labored with every second that elapses.

Eyes screwn shut, Riko lets go of the fight she was harbouring in her body. Geto's voice breaks with unshed moisture. "Try not to die, kid. I already lost a best friend today, don't wanna lose a sister too."

Riko doesn't need to open her eyes to know your reaction; the heart-rending sob paired with the "No promises, aniki," you let out tells her enough – before your cursed energy expands yet again, and a chilled palm pulls her by the hand into a swift run, the hit of her shoes on the floor echoing in the stuffy underground air.

Air which soon switches from the suffocation of ancience to that of blood and death — the teenager takes but a moment to realize who the person is. Biting down harshly on her lower lip, she swallows the raw anguish tearing her sinews apart, and keeps her eyes shut firm.

Willing the darkness reigning behind her eyelids to overtake every part of her body – especially her mind, being hurtled one memory after another, and another – Kuroi making her lunch for school; Kuroi teaching her to tie her braids; Kuroi congratulating for every success of hers and supporting her after every failure, be it big or small; Kuroi being the family she once thought she had lost in a car crash–

The sharp ding of the lift and the crackling warmth of the sun on her tear-stained cheeks are the last two things Riko registers, before the world round her fades away into a noiseless black — finally.

———

DAY 4718; 16:02

"Anableps can see both above and below the water at the same time, y'know?"

The statement and the awed "Woo!" that follows it rouses Riko from the siesta she was teetering on the brink of. She yawns and rubs her eyes. Then yawns again, a bit more subdued this time, considering a family walks past her.

Uni's been very stressful of late, and to top it all off, the woman who's supposed to handle this shift has called in sick – so, as fucking same as before, the manager is gonna call in some newbie to work instead.

The newbie being none other than Riko – very unfortunately – on a tiring Friday afternoon as today.

At least, the job pays well and she gets to spend time explaining fish and their world to excited kids, plus the occasional one or two adults who look a touch different from their usual bored indifference.

But, of course, there's always a group of friends who come bounding in.

Worse than a class of kindergarten children fighting for the single toy of a dinosaur their teacher has brought — Riko avoids such crowds of like the plague. Storming past them, turning down their query, asking a coworker to fill in for her – the young grad student applies all tricks and methods known to her to escape the situation.

To escape the familiar buzz of cheer and enthusiasm.

To escape the familiar weight of nostalgia and gloom.

To escape the—

"Um, miss, where can we find the whale sharks' tank? Heard it's the main attraction here... And, uh, we're also a little lost, actually."

Trains of thought thrown off-track, the young woman squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them again, a customer service smile flitting onto her lips as she turns back. And holds back a very exasperated groan. Why the fuck did Mio had to leave for a snacks break now of the innumerable times she could have gone before? And why does this crowd have to be the very thing she hates dealing with? Ugh... Never mind–

"Just turn to your left, go down the corridor, then to your right. You'll find the whale sharks there."

The pink-haired boy accepts the reply with a nod and a bright thanks, before the black-haired boy places a hand on his shoulder and he falls quiet. The latter looks strangely familiar, Riko thinks... ignoring it, she shoots the boys a quizzical smile. "Is there anything else you would to like to ask or—"

"You're my mom's friend. I've seen your pictures at home," he cuts her off, brows furrowing. His friend looks at him, so perplexed, not much unlike how Riko's feeling. He pays no mind, continuing, "You attended a Catholic school, love music and aquatic life, and have an obsession with coconut crab meat and soba, don't you?"

"Megumi..." A slightly older girl standing behind them with two girls donning identical t-shirts, begins in a lightly chastising tone, but the tour guide feels she's miles away from them. Catholic school, music lessons, aquariums, soki soba, yashigani, Okinawa... it simply cannot be you—

"Tsumiki! Mimiko!" A voice, Riko once was under the impression she'll never be hearing again, except in nightmares, rings through the near-empty hall of the aquarium, soon followed by the appearing of a face she thought she'll never see again, except in the sole photograph left with her on the phone Geto gave her, besides 5000 円 and contacts he asked her to get in touch with, as soon as possible, that evening a good twelve years ago in Osaka.

You reach a stop before the group, a young brown-haired girl trailing you with a worried scowl on her face. Dumbstruck, Riko watches you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"I can understand Nana-chan's phone is busy being used in clicking photos but the same excuse cannot be extended to you, can it? No. So, why on earth can't any of you four pick your mobile up when I'm calling you, hm? Or please don't tell me the batteries are dead. Again."

The blonde girl, presumably Nana-chan, smiles smugly while three out of the addressed four kids shoot a sheepish smile your way. Your frown slowly gives way to a fond grin and you huff a chuckle, shaking your head – which only grows in intensity when the girl following you lets out an annoyed hmph! and launches into a tirade how extremely worried the two of you were and how much dumb and careless them five are.

Eyes welling over with emotions percolated over the course of many, many years, Riko watches you grin so freely — only for it to still and fade when the spiky-haired boy says he has met your friend from the photograph, and you look from him to her standing inconspicuously, half-hidden in the shadows.

A painfully slow second passes.

The entire gaggle of kids falls quiet at the disbelieving watery chuckle you let out. Taking two steps forwards, she offers you a mirror image of your expression.

"Told you the aquarium's fun, didn't I?"

A call of your name bounces off the grey walls in a saccharine tone: Riko knows instinctively, can be no one's except one blue-eyed and white-haired bastard's. You cast a glance at the tall man rushing to you, then return your gaze to her, with the same radiant beam you gave on that day twelve years back, when Riko first expressed her real thoughts out in the air.

The young woman wastes no moment before running to you and engulfing you in the tightest hug she can possibly manage, tears rushing down her face. Your gentle voice shushes her, the way an elder sister would do to a younger sister.

Riko's lips stretch in the widest and freest grin she has felt in forever.

Joyful and thankful her onee-chan is finally back in her life, giving the added length it received some much-needed hues — 'cause a longer life is obviously good but it's the best when your life is long and spent with your near and dear ones.

▸ notes: The reader was in the process of developing and perfecting a new CT, hence her CE was so unstable – spiking and ebbing – besides the fact it drained her energy like hell. Toji was a smart man, he figured it out pretty quickly and easily. [And for the ppl who're wondering how the reader was able to stop the attack on Riko: she used a tendril of thoughts emanating from a person's mind to detect their presence, instead of their cursed energy remains.] [She can't read those thoughts, though.]

▸ masterlist

[weirdo09]

estas bien, mami?(gn)

a miles g/prowler! miles x reader

requested by anonymous

warnings:

teasing to the point of short term periods of not eating

slight eating disorder

possibly sensitive topics

tooth rotting fluff

annoying brothers

any of these seems uninteresting to you, don’t read.

you know how your younger brother can say stupid shit at times but you really didn’t think it affected you until that day. every now and then, you’d get little comments from your brother like “oh, she’s eatin’ again? fattie.” or “why do you eat up all the food?” it didn’t really effect you, all it did was annoy you but as it persisted, the more you started to wonder if he was actually right.

the first time he ever said anything was at a cookout with your extended family in georgia. you were on your second plate of food when you heard him and your boy cousins snicker bout how much you were eating. “look, watch out! y/n’s gonna leave us hungry with the way she’s eatin’!” they said, you just rolled your eyes and went to sit with your other cousins. it was nothing but a harmless joke at the time.

the second time was when you and him were at the dinner table. “you sure you wanna eat all that? i mean, you look pretty big already.” he whispered past you, getting his fill on mac n cheese and chicken. you huffed and put up the finger, your momma scolded you and sent you upstairs to finish your dinner. “estúpido.” you said under your breathe, that you learned from miles. (y’all aren’t dating officially yet) that night, you didn’t eat as much as you normally did but it wasn’t like anyone would notice, right?

the third time was when you two were over a friend’s house, your momma forced you to bring your brother over for ‘quality time’ or some shit. as you left downstairs to eat, he popped up, snickering with your friend’s brother. “look at the hippo!” they squealed, unfortunately your friend and her mom barely heard so your mood was officially ruined for the rest of the night. you eat a moderate size amount of food and you would soon suffer the consequences for your stomach growled most of the time there.

the fourth and final time before the ‘day’, was the day after getting back from your friend’s house. you didn’t even bother getting breakfast not like your family cared, apparently. you went down for lunch and got a apple while your brother was staring at you.

“all for today, hippo?” he asked, you nodded and ran up the stairs. you walked over to the bathroom, you decided to weigh yourself just out of curiosity. surprisingly, you lost 20-25 pounds in the last week. the last time you weighted yourself, you were 199 lbs. you thought about going lower, maybe then he would stop picking on you. so you decided you go down to 160, losing 39 pounds was easy.

as the weeks passed, you were getting slimmer and slimmer. you smiled at the console of getting skinny, you weren’t an ideal type for boys. maybe then they’d start to notice you. your mom also made quick remarks about your unknown weight loss and about how she was so proud that you stopped eating as much. you weighted yourself and saw that you slimmed down to 146.

‘yes!’ you thought, you were finally perfect. or should you go lower? ‘do it, y/n.. you know you want to..’ a voice said creepily, you shivered. you got off the scale and made way to your room. that was a strange thought but you managed to look past it. you thought about it for hours, it was slowly eating away at you. 1-2 weeks later, you were down 130. you felt tired but happy.

after that, you were getting more and more exhausted. simple tasks began to take a toll on you. one day, ‘the day’, you went on the scale and passed out. you woke up, laying on the bathroom floor. you tried to get up but you were too tired. then you thought about calling miles, ‘he wouldn’t want to see you… not when you look so ugly, so disgusting… you should be ashamed..’ the voice said again.

going against it, you rang up miles. “què pasa, mami?” he asked, you sighed deeply. “nothin, could y-y-you come over? i wanna see you.” you said, gasping for air. “alrigh’, ma, hang on tight.” he said, hanging up. you passed out again.

“hey, mrs. [last name], you do know where y/n is?” miles asked, the lady shook her head. “maybe try in her room?” she suggested, he thanked her. he walked up the stairs and made way to your bedroom before he saw the bathroom door open with you lying on the floor. miles stared in concern and walked towards you. “mami? puedes oírme?” miles asked, shaking your body for a response. “nnghhh…” you groaned, “stop shaking me!” you said in annoyance, miles pulled you into a hug.

“ma, estás viva!” miles exclaimed, holding you close and smiling down at you. “yeah? i’m fine, miles.” you said, staying in his hold a little longer before attempting to get up. you fell before miles caught you. “estas bien, mami?” miles asked, worried. you looked down at your body and began to tear up, “no, miles, no, i’m not ok..” you whispered, miles picked you bridal style and walked downstairs.

gladly, there was no one there to stop him from taking you to his house because best believe he would fight if he had to. you hid in his chest most of the way there. once you got there, miles made way to his room and closed the door with his foot. he placed you down on his bed.

“mind tellin me why i found you on the floor passed out?” he asked, staring into your eyes. “i just tryna ‘ose a few pounds, ‘s all..” you mumbled, miles frowned. “mila, mi vida,” he began to say, getting down on his knees to hold your hands. “eres tan hermosa, mi niña bonita.” he finished, kissing up your arms to your lips. it was short and sweet.

you started to tear up again, miles frowned deeply. “ah, mami, no lloles, pol favol, odio verte molesto…” he said, rocking you in his arms. the two of you ended up cuddling, miles hummed a song softly to you while tracing your face. you lied against him, content. “who said that you needed to lose weight?” miles asked, his demeanor changing slightly though he still traced your face with his finger.

“uhm, no one-.” you began to say when miles shot you a “tell me the truth or i’ll fight a random nigga” look. you sighed, “my brother..” you spat out, miles stopped tracing your face to look at you properly. “and my mom, a bit.” you confessed, miles’ usual warm hazel eyes turned cold. “you’re with me for a few days, mami, ok?” he said, though it sounded more of a command. you nodded, rio’s cooking was amazing. “good..” miles whispered, kissing your cheek. you cheesed softly. “estás a salvo conmigo, niña..” he whispered in your ear, him speaking spanish always made you fall head over heels.

translations-

què pasa, mami? - what’s up, mommy?

mami? puedes oírme? - mommy? can you hear me?

ma, estás vivas! - ma, you’re alive!

estás bien, mami? - are you ok, mommy?

mira, mi vida - look, my life

eres tan hermosa, mi niña bonita - you are so beautiful, my pretty girl

ah, mami, no llores, por favor, odio verte molesto.. - ah, mommy, please don’t cry, i hate to see you upset..

estás a salvo conmigo, niña.. - you’re safe with me, baby girl

[whyanne4]

Daylight

Part: 3/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Note: I can’t comment on any posts (I’ve written to tumblr for help) so If you comment on my post and I don’t respond that’s why :)

Tag-list: @mindflay3r

Masterlist

2019

yourusername:

liked by charles_leclerc, beyonce and 9 024 358 others

yourusername:

The day is here! Stream Lover on all platforms today. This album is my heart and soul poured into melodies, capturing the love I share with my forever love and muse, Charles.

Every song is a journey through our story, the lyrics describe how utterly and irrevocably in love I am with this man. He came into my life during some of my darkest times like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. Charles, I once believed love would be burning red like a fire, intense and short lived but you've shown me that it's golden like daylight, soft and long lasting. Thank you for choosing me to be your forever love.❤️

view comments:

blakelively: What a beautiful album!🩷

charles_leclerc: Couldn't be prouder of you mon amour❤️

pierregasly: Amazing album, still can't believe it's about Charles but oh well🤷‍♂️

- yourusername: hahahah thank you Pear🤩

- charles_leclerc: really Pierre🙁

scuderiaferrari: We will be playing it on repeat in the garage for the foreseable future

- mercedesamgf1: smae

- redbullracing: same

- tororosso: same

- alfaromeostake: same

- mclaren: same

- icemanfan: I love how all the teams love Y/N🤣

slaybastianvettel: This album!!!!! I NEED MYSELF A CHARLES RIGHT TF NOW!!!

y/n_culture: I've never seen her this happy. She literally wrote an entire love album, not song, ALBUM for him!!😭

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1 824 932 others

charles_leclerc: My wonderful girlfriend just released her newest album Lover. Go listen to it on all platforms today!

Y/N, your talent and your grace is unbelievable. The things you've accomplished are incredible and you deserve every bit of praise and success that the world has to offer. It's an honor to have been the inspiration for this album and to have the privilege of being by your side.❤️

view comments:

yourusername: My forever❤️

arthur_leclerc: cheesy🥴

- charles_leclerc: Shut up Arthur🙄

danielricciardo: What you did to deserve that girl is beyond me🧐

liked by charles_leclerc

charles_lec_lec: Damn he's a keeper😍

- lando_bbg: he's the blueprint fr😍

Honey_daniel: I want what they have🤧

pierregasly:

liked by yourusername, charles_leclers and 838 347 others

pierregsaly: Go check out Y/N new album full of extremely cheesy songs about her and Charles. I never thought I would like the girl that stole my best friend but turns out she is 100x cooler than him. 😎

view comments:

yourusername: thx ig🤨

- pierregasly: you're very welcome🤩

charles_leclerc: Why are everyone bullying me??😅

- yourusername: sorry baby, you just make it so easy to😘

- arthur_leclerc: because you suck

- trybeingredbull: omg Athur💀

- may_leclercish: Her and Pierre 🤧

arthur_leclerc:

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 237 824 others

arthur_leclerc: so my (future) sister (in law) just dropped an album about my brother which is absolutely disgusting but it's pretty good, 10/10 would recommend!

view comments:

yourusername: Arthur... what is that picture of me??😀

- arthur_leclerc: just wanted to capture your esscence and natural beauty😘😘

- yourusername: I hate you

- arthur_leclerc: no you don't😘

- yourusername: no I don't🫶

ferrarigalsunite: the way he put "future" and "in law" in parentacies because he sees her as a sister. Brb just gonna cry for a bit🤧

charles_leclerc: did you steal my banana costume??😃

- yourusername: noOoo, I would never do such a thing🤠

[val-cansalute]

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 6

ch. 1 ch. 2 ch.3 ch. 4 ch. 5

don’t be a piece of shit

cw - set in jackson with an unclear timeline, no mentions of joel or jj, kind of half proofread, profanities, depictions of mental illness, graphic situations, CUNNILINGUS 🤰, mdni

Seconds, which blur the line between moments and hours, drag by, yet breaths still come in sharp, ragged gasps.

Your chest still feels heavy, bearing the lingering weight of the memories that overwhelmed you, and the stale, dust-ridden air of your old home still churns maliciously within your rib cage though you’re far from it now. Nothing is proving helpful in satiating your ravenous lungs.

Her hand is already soothing tender circles into your back before you can register it and the violence of your inhale softens.

“Shimmer?” you repeat, words veiled by winded breaths.

“Yeah, that’s right,” like it’s second nature to her, Ellie moves her calloused hand so that it’s splayed across your thumping heart to gently ground you and the room stops spinning so frustratingly.

Your focus shifts to her touch, to the warmth that radiates from her palm.

“It’s kinda fuckin’ impressive you managed to go so long without learning any of their names,” as always, her voice is a quiet rasp, intimate and gentle as a smile plays at her chapped lips.

In contrast, your gaze is intense and, somehow, distant. It makes Ellie’s stomach twist with anxiety.

“Wasn’t planning on staying.”

“… Right. Well, you should probably learn them now.”

You’re back in Jackson – not in your home, but in Ellie’s decrepit hybrid shed, which somehow managed to outdo your actual house by miles.

What your home lacked, hers carried in abundance; warmth and soul, with pictures and posters scattered across the dulled walls and memories laced through the trinkets lining each shelf. It was alive with the force of her affection.

Coming back invited the questioning gaze of the townspeople, but your mind was too tired to pay it any mind, or to pay the fact that she was leading you away from your house any mind either.

“The place you went to... You used to live there? I, uh, saw a carving of your name and your brother’s, I think it was, in the fence. Soren, right?”

“Yeah… Me and Soren…”

“… Listen… Why did you do it? You didn’t wanna be there, I know that much. You were... fucked up, to say the least, when I found you. I don’t understand.”

“I don't know… I don’t want to be safe; I don’t deserve to be safe-”

Your heart beats sporadically at the sudden overbearing guilt inside you, the source of which you can’t trace back to a specific moment, and your breath hitches in your throat so you can't meet her worried eyes. There are so many actions you cannot justify at all, save for the fact that there was a massive remorseful compulsion to do it. For Soren, even though you know, deep down, he’d never have wanted this, you know you did it for him. You’ll never fully be able to explain why, or why you ended up going back with Ellie without argument.

“Hey, I'm here." her soothing voice cuts through the dense anxiousness in the air and, for a moment, the fog clears - the sight of her softened face, so endearing.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Her eyes are so beautiful; it's so easy to forget what you were even thinking about when you dive into them.

"You- fuck- you know that’s stupid, right? Of course you deserve to be safe, y/n, how could you not deserve that?"

You’re a fraud. You had everyone fooled, thinking you had morals, but you can’t let her believe in a falsehood. The words burst out like rust-ridden water from a burst pipe; so explosively that she jerks back slightly, eyebrows knitted in worry.

"Because I’m bad person! You don’t know me, Ellie! I killed him! I fucking beat him to death! I am so fucking disgusting!"

"You-"

"Oh my god, Ellie, he was just a fucking kid! And he was terrified! Terrified of what would happen if he let the infection take over and terrified of hurting me! Fuck, and he begged me to do it before he turned, but I couldn't fucking do it! How could I?! And then I beat him to death as soon as he came for me, because I am a coward, and when it came down to it, all it took was a little scare for me to hurt him so fucking badly... God, Ellie, it didn’t have to be like that; it shouldn’t have fucking been like that but I’m so selfish… He was all I had left… Without him, I’m nothing… But I fucking deserve it. I deserve all the shit that comes my way. And I have to take it. All of it."

Somewhere amidst the fire, she grabs your shoulders and pulls you closer,

"Y/N, no. Deep down, you know that's not true. He was just a kid but -fucking- so were you! You were just a kid, and it's not fair that you had to fend for yourself! It's not fair that you and your brother had to live like this! It's not fair that he got infected, or that anyone did, and it is not your fault that your choice had the consequences it did when you were panicked and desperate and young. It is not your fault it happened the way it did. This world... Nothing about it is fair. Even though I can’t replace him, and I don’t know you as well as him, I care about you and I want to be around you. And I know for a fact that you are not a bad person, and I fucking know that. You are not a bad person. What happened back then was not evil, it was tragic, not evil. You can’t forget it, and you shouldn’t! But your brother would never want you to be stuck in this awful cycle. He would never blame you like this. Shit happens, we do things we regret and life doesn't go the way we plan, we lose people we love, but we move forward. We have to. And you are not alone, not while I’m here, you can never be."

Her words are harsh and sharp, to get through to you, nicking little chips at the edges of your iron-strong resolve. For the first time, you let yourself consider it, and the strength of your guilt’s hold loosens up just a bit.

Through pooling tears that threaten to fall and the lump that sits tight in your throat, you reach out your arms to bury your face into the warmth of her shoulder, and push your shaky, cracking voice out.

“I miss him so much… I can’t stop thing about it… I can’t stop feeling like this…”

Ellie immediately collects your draped body into a fervid hold, trying desperately to cling onto the rare openings you allow her.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just give yourself time. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise you.”

6 MONTHS LATER

The Tipsy Bison’s doors are held wide open, but great gusts of wind are no match for the laughter, clinking of glasses and constant hum of conversation within.

Somewhere amongst the bundles of life, you are sat at a rickety table beside Ellie, Dina, and Jesse, and are fitting in like a puzzle piece beyond all capabilities of your imagination when you first arrived in Jackson.

Jesse’s eyes held fast to Dina, who’s head was thrown back in a wholehearted cackle over something relatively insignificant. You were all slumped in your chairs with great big grins, flushed faces and strands of hair clinging to your clammy necks, in high spirits.

Your heart feels full. For the first time, you can go out and laugh freely without the intense gaze of your overwhelming guilt or constant, racing thoughts of Soren. Panic attacks lie dormant for longer than you’d ever dreamed of.

Ellie’s gaze reaches you, and the way your heart swells with all-consuming affection is mutual. You can tell from the way she looks at you, all warm and admiring.

For a second, the sight of the people behind her falls away and you are the only people left in the room, in the world. Here, you are with people who care about you, want to be around you. Here, there is a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt in a long time.

After a moment, the pink-tinged apples of her cheeks fatten with a sincere, toothy grin, hazy eyes squinting as they flit down to her glass, and you notice that the number of people here has actually dwindled.

“Oh shit, everyone’s gone, I didn’t even realise.” Dina mumbled, scanning the room. Jesse lazily rose from his chair, stretching as he looked back at her,

“We should probably get going too, huh. I'll see you two tomorrow, then.” He nodded over to both of you before huddling together with Dina and drunkenly walking off.

You look back to Ellie; she’s leaning back in her chair, legs spread in a way that brings on certain feelings, raising her glass to her parted lips and her eyes never leave yours.

You watch her swallow the last traces of whiskey and set the glass down before tilting her head at you with a smirk. You’re both drunk, warm, fuzzy, tingly.

Her eyebrows raise before she gets up and leans over, and whispering,

“C’mon, babe,” into your ear.

As you stroll back, you’re met with the refreshing cool night air and you can’t help but feel a sense of contentment, hand in hand with Ellie, watching her ramble on. Your hushed giggles carry through the empty paths.

When you arrive at Ellie's place, stumbling through the door, you collapse onto her bed. This place has become more of a home than your real home; you’re almost never not spending the night. Among the clusters of trinkets and piles of clothes, your belongings have found a place, as well as the acrylic image of your face amidst her paintings.

Candlelight, the room is bathed in the soft orangey glow, casting shadows that dance and flicker across Ellie’s grinning face. You cling onto her dearly, intertwining your limbs with flushed cheeks and gazing up at her longingly, light and airy.

You settle into a comfortable silence with your bodies pressed against each other while she stares up down at her rough palm as you trace, with gentle and loving touches, the lines engraving it, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

She pecks your cheek,

“Are you sleepy?”

You look up at her with a sly smirk,

“No. Are you?”

“Nuh uh, you know what I’m thinking?”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re thinking?”

You rise from your spot, nestled into her side, taking the hand you were playing with and entwining your fingers as you hover over her. The look on her face is mellow yet excited, her hands already reach out for your waist, already making your body feel hotter.

“You gonna show me, babe?”

She pulls you closer so you dive into the soft crook of her neck, sensitive with trails of tingling skin where you place kisses, desperate to feel the warmth her body emits, desperate for her to feel so incredibly real to you, for her to overwhelm your senses. You’ve never been infatuated quite like this before, never felt quite so comfortable with the love you hold for a person. But with Ellie, it’s simple, easy, comes naturally to you. She’s so many things, but, especially a sanctuary. A sanctuary weathered by the storms of your past but still standing firm.

“Mhmm, I’m gonna show you, Els.”

Ellie’s slumped at the head of her dingy bed.

Her body is bare and her muscles are tensing with each desperate, visceral movement, glowing with a thin sheen of sweat and slick,, as she kneads her fingers into the fat of your ass and meets your lips hungrily.

You hold onto her freckled face, looking down at her fucked out, beautiful eyes. They’re just begging for more after giving it to you for so long, consolidated by the sparkly feeling of her grinding up onto you,

“You’re so hot,”

“Oh, am I?” you mutter, pushing her back against the mattress and watching her eyes widen while chuckling to yourself,

“Wha- Alright, jesus fuck,”

You crawl off her lap with deliberate sexuality, pushing her legs apart abruptly. She clambers up onto her arms but you push her back, watching her tits bounce as she collapses,

“Shut up, El,”

“Oh, I see how it is, you aren’t fucking around anymore. No more mr nice guy, no funny busin-”

“Dude, fucking stop, you just, like, made me un-wet,”

“Oh shit, gotta get serious.”

You smack her thigh gently.

She grins and folds her arms behind her head, her eyes never leaving yours as you lower yourself in front of her pussy. Yours narrow ever so slightly when she grabs the back of your head and pushes it into your mouth, moaning at the contact of your lips with hers.

It gets you warm, placing a kiss filled with genuine love on her puffy clit before borderline making out with her pussy,

The sight of her eyes rolling back as her jaw goes slack has you begging for more, so you run your tongue up from her slit before lapping at it like you’re starved and watching her go cross-eyed from the sheer pleasure.

You can’t help but dip a finger a finger or two into her dripping hole, wanting nothing but to make her feel good, for her to come undone on you, slick smeared over your mouth, nose and chin, dripping lewdly down your palm.

You watch her body convulse, mattress cover clinging to her sweaty back as it arches up off the bed and her legs pull you in graciously.

You rest your head on her thigh and relish in the sight for a moment before she’s looking back into your eyes and urging you to come up so she can hold you, and also to stop breathing onto her clit because her “legs might spasm and strangle you or something,”

You laugh and lay your head down on her naked chest to hear her heart thump within her, in the tender embrace of the arms she holds out for you.

“Els?”

“Hmm?”

“Remind me to take those really fluffy socks I have home with me later. So much stuff is here now, I keep getting annoyed whenever Im actually home for once.”

“Sure, I can do that, if I don’t also forget.”

“Great.”

She lulls your eyes into a soft close with the feeling of her stroking your hair, and as she watches you exist, she realises she’d like to do that for longer. So, she leans into your ear and whispers,

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you just… bring all your stuff to my place, you know, move in with me?”

You raise your head from her chest (she immediately misses the warmth) and meet her eyes, face slowly morphing into an adoring smile which she reflects, before placing a kiss on her forehead and then locking your lips with hers.

PLEASE READ

a/n - last chapterrrrrr ahdgstihaveahugepenisdtyf, banners by cafekitsune and saradika-graphics, my condolences to anyone who has read this bc i kinda hate it but thanks anyways. im not gonna write anything for a while after this (except for this one req thats been sitting in my drafts for an ungodly amount of time) because of the situation in palestine and the upcoming global strikes. i dont want to think abt a game made by a zionist who embedded zionist propaganda into it and donated money to israel most likely earned from the game. upwards of 30,000 palestinians, 11,000 of which were children, have been murdered by israel since october. yeah, for now, it’s only gonna be palestine-related posts. please, please do not buy the remaster, im begging you. its just a remaster, im pretty sure we can all go without it.