#they both want to reconcile but they don’t know how

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman and Female Reader

Finale

Word Count ~ 3.3k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut, pregnancy

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

The true name of your doppelgänger is crooned into your ear.

A sound that is strangely soothing, syllables slipping like water in a brook, a gentle rush of water.

You attempt to replicate the sound and of course it doesn’t come out right. He’d warned you of this. The human tongue is incapable of replicating the foreign language.

“Why do you have such an easy time learning ours and we can’t learn yours?”

He’s gone back to the human version of his being, the tired eyes of the milkman studying your frustrated features, his fingers stroking and smoothing away the lines creasing your brow and the corners of your mouth.

“The newness of it, maybe. Yours is a relatively young race.”

You prop your head up on your hand, dragging fingernails over your lover’s chest. “How old are you?”

“Me, or my species?”

“Both.”

He turns onto his back, nestling down in the pillows. “In Earth years….we have existed for tens of thousands of years. I’m a tenth of that.”

“You are not over a thousand years old,” you murmur in disbelief.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles softly. “You’re right, I’m not. I’m teasing. Sorry, love. More like one hundredth of that.”

“A century.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wow.” It’s hard to reconcile the idea. Despite whatever face he wears, you’ve always thought of him as near enough your own age. “An older man, huh?”

“Something like that.” He lifts the hand you have resting on his bare chest and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Is that okay?”

“It’s a little late to ask, but yes, it’s definitely okay.” You bend to kiss his mouth. “I really wanted to learn your name.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He worries his bottom lip, considering. “What if I tried to describe what it meant instead? And we discovered a language equivalent that was similar.”

“Alright,” you agree.

The milkman’s copy pauses, considering. “In Greek mythology, there was a name for something otherworldly that was borrowed from Latin, then later used to describe a kind of afterlife. Fields of paradise. An eternal resting place of bliss for the worthy. Elysium. But that notion of otherworldly is the best way to describe it. The original term is Elysian.”

“Elysian,” you try it out. It sounds nothing like what the alien had said earlier, of course, but the idea is there. “I like it. It’s pretty sounding.”

“Well, that’s it, then.”

“Elysian,” you repeat, bending to kiss his mouth again. He smiles against your lips. “You like hearing it, huh?”

“It’s pleasant, I’ll admit.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “How do you know about Greek mythology?” You have never seen anything that indicated the milkman read classical literature.

The doppel clears his throat, looking a little nervous. “There was a professor.”

“Oh.” Of course Francis wasn’t the first human he’d ever cloned. “Did you…take him over, too?”

“No. Just replicated. Retired. Library at home.” He squirms a little, looking uncomfortable.

“Did you…” You don’t really want to give voice to the query. You’re not even sure precisely which it is. Kill? Consume?

“Sweetheart, please don’t ask me that.”

You swallow thickly. You forget, sometimes. Caught up as you are in how he is now. Denying what he used to be.

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t remember.”

“But you remember what you read in a book.”

The doppel sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “It was awhile ago.”

“Not who you were when you…Francis…”

“No.”

“How many? How many people have you…”

He sits up, and you straighten beside him. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not who I am anymore. What I am. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” Your voice trails off again.

“Listen to me, sweet girl. All that matters now to me is you. Keeping you safe. Making you happy. I love you.” He plants a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“We should go to sleep. Work in the morning. And that damned box to deal with,” he mutters, leaning to switch the bedside lamp off.

You feel him lying down again and you snuggle next to him, your head pillowed against his chest, his arm curled around you. You’re wide awake, now. Questions spiral in your mind. “Elysian?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever miss your planet?”

“Maybe a little. I did. Not so much now.” His arm around you tightens.

“What was it like?”

“Very green. More of a tropical climate, I suppose you would say.”

“And you left because…”

“Food shortage.”

A brisk answer. You’re not going to ask what precisely the doppels consumed in their native location. “Have you been to any other planets?”

“One. Small. We didn’t stay long.”

Another ominous answer. Not enough to eat, perhaps? Did anyone ever properly repel the invaders? Or were they an unstoppable force, like a plague of locusts sweeping the land, consuming everything in their path, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake?

“What’s it like traveling in space?”

“So many questions tonight.” His lips press against you hair. “It’s indescribable, really. Beautiful. Vast. Daunting. Someday, I would like to show you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you both mull over that prospect. You had never thought much about space travel. Had no real knowledge of astronomy. But the idea of exploring the stars with this creature by your side made you curious. What would it be like, to be so far away from the only home you've ever known? You feel the gentle rise and fall as the doppelgänger’s lungs expand and deflate and hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. You try to match his rhythm. A game you haven’t played since childhood. Facing off with a friend in the schoolyard. While cuddling with a parent at home. That is what he feels like to you. Home. How fiercely you want to protect him. You squeeze his shoulder.

“What happens when you run out of members of your squadron to send here for sacrifice?” You ask quietly. A concern you’ve harbored for a long time finally given voice.

“Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to be harmed, either.”

“I know, my love. Now try to sleep.”

You shut your eyes, thinking there’s no way you’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, only to find yourself proven wrong as you soon descend into slumber.

***

You awaken to darkness.

It’s early, dawn still a ways off. You reach out drowsily to find the doppelgänger sitting upright beside you in bed.

“Elysian?”

“There’s a doppel,” he says softly. “But something about it is off. I don’t…”

You’re instantly alert again, jerking upright, throwing the sheet off of you. “Where is it? Outside? On this floor?”

Had you let one in by mistake? Or was this some new intrusion?

“I’m not sure,” he replies distractedly. The weight on the mattress shifts as he rises, his face barely visible when he draws back the curtain to peer at the street below. “Not outside,” he declares. “Closer than that.”

Your pulse quickens. Inside, then.

“Wait there,” he advises. “I’ll go have a look around.”

You immediately disobey, sliding out of bed. You can’t just sit still waiting for whatever was going to happen. You pad barefoot out of the room, finding yourself in more darkness. Your fingers trail on the wall as you move forward, your feet leaving carpet and finding linoleum.

“Elysian?” You hiss, squinting, trying to detect him in the shadows.

“I told you to stay in the other room,” his voice growls from somewhere to your right. The living room. “It was gone, but now I’m sensing it again”

You bump into the couch, finally deciding it’s more of a hazard trying to find your way in the dark, invader be damned, reaching blindly until you crash into the lamp, nearly knocking it over before your fingers fumble for the switch.

Francis’ doppel paces the small apartment, even unlocking and cracking open the front door before shaking his head and shutting it again. His gaze meets yours.

“So where is it?”

He steps towards you slowly. His eyes widen. “Is it possible…”

“What?”

“Sweetheart.” He stands before you, laying a palm on your abdomen.

“I’m…”

“Carrying my baby. Our baby.” His other hand cups your cheek tenderly. “We did it, my love.”

He gathers you against him, his face burrowed into your neck. Wet. He’s crying. You’re crying, too. Weeping. Relief. Joy. A new kind of fear. Maternal instinct kicking in already.

You had to protect your unborn hybrid child.

***

There’s no sleep to be found for either of you now.

You’re cuddled on the couch, wrapped in Francis’ bathrobe, the doppelgänger’s arm curled around you protectively, waiting for the new day to begin.

“I’m afraid to make an appointment with the doctor. I should go, but…what if they find out?”

“Best not then, love. Just to be safe. You should talk to your mother. Whatever you need to be doing, what to expect…”

You nod. “We need to get married as soon as possible.”

“You’re already my wife in every way that matters, but yes, we will. Very soon.” He pauses. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I know your reasoning behind it, but I think you should stop working for the DDD. Especially since we’re moving into your house together. There’s no reason for either of us to be anywhere near here anymore. Let’s go, sweetheart. Leave this behind. Start over. Begin our life together properly.”

“Let me give a notice. Finish this week, and the next. It’s just how we do things. Allow them time to find a replacement. We still have the box to deal with,” you remind him.

“Then you’ll leave the DDD?”

“Yes, I’ll leave.”

He sighs heavily. “Thank you.”

“What time do you think it is?”

“Maybe three? I left my watch in the other room. Can’t see the clock from here,” he murmurs against your cheek. “We still have time.”

“I was thinking we should go downstairs. Tamper with the device right now before the sun even rises.” You lean back to look at your lover. “They’ll keep working on it. There’s no guarantee they won’t succeed again. Or find another means.”

“I know. But that won’t be your fight, love. That’s for someone else to worry about.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yes,” he admits. “More than I ever have been. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it. Our baby is worth it.”

***

The director of the DDD requests an exit interview with you.

Really not a request, more of a requirement. You’re not entirely surprised. You didn’t think you’d escape quite that easily.

It’s been a little over a week since you and Elysian sabotaged the anti doppelgänger frequency box. Lying about the results on the survey after the allotted trial period. A temporary solution to a larger problem, but at least your doppel was safe for now.

And your baby. Your half human, half doppelgänger child nestled in your belly.

You try not to rest your hand on it as you sit before the stern faced man’s desk. Of course there is nothing visible yet, your stomach still flat, but you’d already grown accustomed to touching there. You force your hands to meet and fold together in your lap, your head bowed slightly, the very picture of meekness and subservience that seemed so favorable for women of the time.

“You’ve submitted your two weeks notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the reason for that is?”

“I’m getting married. Ready to settle down, start a family.”

He grunts. You can’t tell if it’s approving or not. “People don’t often leave the DDD. Not voluntarily,” he adds.

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel it’s the right one.”

“Not going to be easy to replace you. Not if you gave two months notice, let alone two weeks,” he admits grudgingly. “The DDD thanks you for your service. I’m certain you’ll still uphold the tenets of the cause, even if you’re no longer formally employed by us.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The middle aged man begins to slide a document across the desk towards you after signing it and stamping it with the official seal, only to halt at the last moment, staring hard at you. Your eyes lift to meet his.

“I understand there’s a new vacancy in that residence now. Another rare occurrence.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“The milkman that was missing that day of your…indiscretion. Francis Moss, wasn’t it?”

“Mosses,” you correct, then wince internally.

“Yes. Him.”

You remain silent, your hand still stretched out, reaching for the paper. Your heart thuds in your chest. Please, just let me go. Please, please…

You suddenly have the document clutched tightly in your hand. He was letting you go after all. Freedom. You force yourself to walk from the room at a dignified pace, the paper carried in front of you like a shield. When you exit the office building your tense, rigid posture relaxes and you heave a sigh of relief. Another challenge overcome on the road to forever with your doppel.

***

You love coming home to your fiancé.

Seeing his delivery truck in the driveway. Soon you’ll be the one welcoming him inside every afternoon. But for now, he’s the first one to your inherited farmhouse, waiting for you on the porch he’d raced up to kiss you all those months ago, gifting you a taste of new rain and the smell of fresh petrichor.

“How did it go?” His tone is casual but you know better, seeing his white knuckled grip on the railing.

“I’m free.” You wave the letter in the air and he snatches it from your hand, hurriedly scanning the words.

“You really are,” he murmurs, looking bewildered and relieved.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still be watching. But for now, for now…”

He smiles at you, one arm wrapping around your waist. “Should we celebrate?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully, his lips brushing your ear. “Come inside with me, love.”

***

There are little details of the house that bear traces of Francis Mosses, now. The crocheted blanket rests over your couch. The portable record player has a permanent home in your bedroom. The dresser hosts a collection of your doppel’s things: a belt, cologne, some spare change, a wooden handled hairbrush. There’s a shirt that needs mending hung on the post at the end of the bed.

“I’ll fix this later.”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes never stray from your face. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels in front of you, sliding each shoe off, caressing your calves. You sink a hand into his hair, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead, inhaling his scent. Notes of bergamot, the clean citrus in his cologne. Your shampoo now in his hair. Strawberry. Everything a combination of you two. Already joined in so many ways.

His hand cups one knee, his palm warm and comforting over the joint. He slides it inside, stroking under your skirt, creeping between your thighs. He nudges at the clothing that is your work attire, shoving impatiently to gain better access. You accommodate him, pushing yourself back until you’re lying horizontally across the mattress, your skirt now rucked up around your hips, the doppel’s fingers dragging your panties out of the way.

“Need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

He’s on his hands and knees above you. You work on the fly of his pants. Your haste makes you clumsy. The metal teeth of the zipper catch on the fabric of his pants. He shakes his head, laughing softly, the sound turning to a growl when he struggles in your wake. It finally gives and he lowers himself down, guiding his cock into your entrance.

You gasp and his mouth crushes yours, swallowing the sound.

His hips press yours and you’re thinking of the nearby field with its fading summer flowers. That’s where you want to be wed. Here beneath the open sky, in this sanctuary of yours. You whisper it beside his cheek and he draws back, looking at your features. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.” Your rock your pelvis against him, your legs wrapping around his body. “Elysium fields with my Elysian…”

“I love you,” he breathes. He thrusts and it hits something tender inside, the aching place deep in the hollow. Your fingers tangle together. Hot inside you. Something molten in your core. You’re melting. Clinging to him. The world shatters, comes back together in little pieces. Tired eyes gazing into your own. Soft smile.

***

You’re still tangled together.

Bodies intertwined. A comforter thrown over you both to ward off the chill of the oncoming autumn night. You’re discussing possible baby names again. You like the idea of something celestial. Named for the sun or the moon or one of the countless stars above. A constellation, an outline of a portrait when they arrange themselves just so. A planet, a galaxy. Infinite possibilities.

“It reminds me of a song,” Elysian murmurs. You’ve been taking turns tickling each other. You were losing horribly but determined to get revenge, making another attack along his unprotected ribs. He remains stoic and unresponsive despite your best efforts.

“What song?”

“Hmmm…” He hums thoughtfully. “In Other Words, I believe it’s called. How does it go?”

Fly me to the moon

And let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On-a Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, darling, kiss me

Your heart lurches. It’s the melody. The one Francis used to hum. The replicant notices your teasing fingers grow still and he stops singing abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the song. The one Francis used to hum all the time.”

“Oh, love. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course not. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Your eyes feel a little full, tears brimming.

“I know you still love him. I wouldn’t ask you not to. That wouldn’t be fair.” He drags a thumb across each cheek, close to your lashes, collecting the salted liquid. “He’s always going to be present in some regard. But I can’t resent him. I have to love him a little bit, too. Because he brought me to you.”

“What if I’d called the DDD that day? What if…” More tears escape. You’re suddenly overwhelmed. If you’d contacted the disposal team and destroyed him, this person that has become your world, created a new life with you…This song was what had finally swayed you. Another gift from Francis.

“Sweetheart. You didn’t. You let me into the building. Into your heart. There’s nothing there to be sorry about, from your perspective anyway. If I had to choose again, I would not see you hurt, I would not want to take him from you, but love, how could I ever give you up? I can’t. I could never. You’re carrying our future. You’re my forever.”

His lips graze yours. Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, drawing him more firmly against your mouth. “Sing the rest for me. I want to know all the words.”

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing forever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

“I love you.”

You’re joined again. Hips and hands and mouths.

Maybe one day in the future you will be brave enough to travel with the alien into space. Explore the wonders of the heavens with your children by your side.

For now, you are content in this bliss on Earth.

[mayclair]

the whole max and mike’s lives being foils of each other’s is so insane to me bc its like. for mike max is a representation of everything that could have happened to him if his mom left his dad earlier on (and what can still happen when you look at the way things are between them) and for max mike is a representation of everything that she could have had growing up if her mom hadn’t decided to leave her dad as fast as she did

[bardicbeetle]

sometimes i come to the startling realization that i am. capable of choosing my own directions.

[whosjunglejim4322]

Reconcile- E.M (S)

Smut!, fluff because uhm how could I not, angst! cause you guys are pent up from stress and this is basically a make up sex fic teehee, mentions of weed, brief arguing, Y’all just desperate and gross, Eddie fucks you till you cry and talks you through it like the slut he is, he cums inside of you, makes sure to fuck all that attitude away, PUSSY EATING, very graphic descriptions of passionate n nasty intercourse

You hadn’t foreseen this happening.

Sure, you and Ed’s have gotten into little disputes before. Petty, insignificant quarrels about whether or not the other person actually took out the garbage or who would pay next date night. Two years is still short to some, for you and Eddie it felt like forever and yesterday all in the same universe. Heavenly, and mundane.

But this is a different beast all together. This morning makes day two that you two have had this weird, suffocating energy between both of you. The antagonist of this situation, is undoubtedly the conversation that was had at Steve’s weekend hangout.

A few hits from a joint, a shot or two of tequila and goofy sentences being passed around between two best friends. You and Robin being the spectators, content in your own little bubble, puffing on a spliff of your own. Heavy, fluffy blankets kept you warm, gave you weight to lean on when your head began to feel like it might float away.

The Christmas lights and the hum of the deep freezer in the corner of Steve’s basement almost distracted you completely in your haze, until it didn’t. Until Chrissy Cunningham came up. Until it was an innocent giggling fit about whether or not Chrissy ever had a crush on Eddie, the oxymoron in and of itself.

“Imagine that ever happening,” Steve chuckled, lightheartedly, taking a sip of his Diet Pepsi. “can’t say I can’t see it. She wanted you for sure, dude.”

Your ears twitched. Eyes thinning into inquisitive slits. Nothing about Steve’s tone was meant to be rude, or disrespectful, but the nature of the comment itself felt awkward and uncomfortable underneath your skin.

You almost turned your attention back to the Walkman blasting David Bowie. Almost.

“I saw her the other day, she came in for an oil change. Honestly, I never would’ve even thought she wanted me,” Eddie takes another rip of his bong. “But then she asked me if I do at home visits. Said she wanted to catch up with me.”

Maybe your reptilian brain overreacted. Or, maybe it didn’t. Honestly, you don’t blame yourself completely for the way you reacted after that statement. Nothing else he said after that mattered. All you could hear was your heartbeat in your own ears. Loud, thunderous

“I told her I wouldn’t do that, obviously.”

White noise.

And not only were you intoxicated, but you were already burnt out from work and school, touch starved from not having any time with your boyfriend as of late. A period of your current reality that you know will pass as all things do in life; but it was too much. This hangout was supposed to be somewhat intimate, something for you to both do together. A simplicity that normally wouldn’t even have to be mentioned. You and Eddie exist on the same axis.

The blanket became too heavy and the smoke in the room threatened to choke you further. You all but threw the fluffy cover off of you and stormed out. You heard Robin call after you, and Eddie. A pair of voices that meshed together like the drum line in a song that is so in sync with the guitar chorus that you can barely decipher it. The steps spin, but you manage to stay upright.

Cold November air chilled your face, your neck. You too a deep breath in while marching to the van parked just a few feet away on the newly slabbed pavement of Steve’s home. His parents are at their lake house so often that Steve claims their Hawkins residence as his own.

Predictably, a heavy thump of boots followed closely behind you. The scrape of worn soles and the squeak of an old leather jacket. A billow of smoke follows him, clings onto him like jasmine and rosemary to the freshly bathed. Your back felt like the warning signs at a crossroad. He felt helpless.

“Baby, hey,” he sounded breathless, desperate and confused. He’s never seen you so upset that you’d just walk out unprompted. “stop walking god dammit, please.”

You stopped reluctantly, the tears of frustration in your waterline blurring your vision of the violet, cloudless skyline. A wide, warm palm touched your shoulder and the heat seared you even through your hoodie. You flinched away instinctively, sore in your limbs from your own concoction of emotions. When you met his eyes, they were wide. Like a deer staring down the barrel of a gun in its own home.

Your face must have been something to see. A scowl, a mirror of sadness reflected in his umber eyes. Angry. He’d never seen you look at him that way. It felt like having his intestines twisted between two cold hands.

“You didn’t tell me that happened.”

You stated it plainly, but spitefully in nature. Your voice cracked and it made a brewing tear spill over your waterline and down the plump of your cheek. He had the overwhelming urge to comfort you, but knew he couldn’t. Knew you would likely flinch away like you did five seconds ago and he didn’t think he would physically be able to bear you trying to get away from him again.

He didn’t exactly know what was making you so upset. The conversation wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have said in front of you, which is why all of it was said in front of you. Perhaps his own intoxication made it hard to fully understand the velocity of his words, what they meant and how they could’ve been interpreted from your point of view.

“I didn’t think it was important.” His thick brows scrunched and deepened the wrinkle between them. You looked like your eyes might bulge out of your head.

You nearly choked on your own spit, the words to your reply getting caught square in the middle of your throat; and so you said nothing. You stepped forward, and then past him. And he realized too late that you were walking away from him.

“I’m gonna ask Steve to take me home.”

He was too stunned to speak. To react. To stop you, to plead for you to tell him what he did wrong. Or at least how to fix it. He felt himself crumble on the inside, like his bones were made of ash.

When he got back to the trailer that night, you weren’t there. And that’s when it all really set in. That he fucked up. For the past two weeks you’ve been here with him, playing house while Wayne caught a gig further up north. He thought, he thought that when you said home, maybe you meant here. With him.

He called that night, almost ten times. You answered on the eighth.

“I’m at my apartment Ed’s, I’m fine. I don’t want to argue, or talk. I just need to be by myself right now.”

He felt paralyzed by the pang in his chest. More so, he felt angry. Genuinely angry, and not just at himself, but selfishly, at you.

“Fine, glad you’re safe.”

He nearly broke the fucking landline.

Your eyes have to adjust to the brightness of your living room. Well, your bedroom, slash living room, slash kitchen. A studio in Hawkins is relatively affordable, but they aren’t lying when they say it’s a studio. The events from yesterday scream in your head instantly, along with the pounding of your pulse. Your bed is almost unfamiliar at this point, the blankets not worn enough, the sheets the scent of fresh dryer sheets instead of you and Eddie’s shared scent.

The beeping of your answering machine pulls you back down to reality, though not one you want to participate in currently. Unfortunately, you have no other choice.

They’re all from Eddie of course, and now that you’re not high you feel those wounds from the night before coming back, sticking you in the chest, ribs, liver. Along with the pain, you feel guilty. For your less than mature reaction. Though you know you can’t blame yourself, not having ever been in that situation. You’re human and reacted as so. But he’s your Eddie.

You listen to the last message, sent twenty five minutes ago.

“I’m coming over in thirty minutes, I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We are going to talk this out. I love you.”

You huff in frustration, though you can’t say you aren’t relieved. Relieved that he’s coming, that he’s not giving up over some quarrel about Chrissy Cunningham. You have a tendency to think the entire world is caving in around you upon one minor inconvenience. This disruption in your daily routine feels like Armageddon.

You have time to brush your teeth and rinse the remaining paste off of your mouth before your front door opens. If you didn’t recognize his footsteps so well, it might be off putting to have someone just waltz into your home.

The bathroom door is open, so he spots you immediately, slipping off his worn in boots and placing them beside the door. He takes his leather jacket off and puts it over the stool that sits at your kitchen island. It makes your face hot, still. The ease in which you two have melded into each others lives. Even if you’re angry at him.

“I don’t know what to say, Ed’s.” It’s a lie. You walk past him to the kitchen and open the fridge, hiding from his gaze as you pretend to search for something. He clears his throat and you reluctantly close the refrigerator door, staring at the floor and backing yourself against the sink.

“I just - you’ve never left. Without telling me. Or talking to me. And, fuck I-“ he’s stammering already, taking steady breaths and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think I had to tell you about an insignificant interaction with Chrissy Cunningham.”

You scoff, although it’s more of a giggle. And he looks at you like you’ve just lost your mind. Rare, for Eddie Munson to think someone else has lost their mind.

“Well you and Steve sure seemed to enjoy talking about it. You both were pretty giddy discussing whether or not Chrissy wanted to, or, sorry -“ you’re being defensive. Rude. You can’t help it. “wants to fuck you. Why would I want to hear about that? Why would I want to hear you guys talk about whether or not you both can see you and Chrissy together? Does that not sound incredibly fucked up, Ed’s?”

So much for not talking. Now it’s spilling out like a cracked flower vase. Your chest is heaving rapidly, face and body hot with anger. Your arms are crossed across your chest, a protection against whatever it is he might say, despite the fact that you’re the one who’s being rhetorical.

He shoves his ringed fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp and pulling lightly at the roots as he closes his eyes, contemplating. Seeing things through your eyes, attempting to. He winces.

“That’s not what we were trying to say,” he bites his cheek. “I mean I know it doesn’t matter what we were trying to say, the conversation shouldn’t have happened, but I can’t take it back. For fucks sake.”

He’s murmuring to himself, rubbing his rough palms over his tired face. He’s wearing one of your favorite tee shirts of his to steal. Iron Maiden. The sleeves are short enough to reveal the splattering of ink that crawls up his biceps. When his muscles move underneath his skin, the ink moves with them. It’s captured your attention suddenly, and now you’re raking your eyes over his entire figure.

Familiar black sweats cling onto his lower half. They fit perfectly on his lithe waist, loose on the rest. Except for his ass. He has a really cute ass. And these sweats specifically accentuate the shape before billowing down his thighs.

“Baby? You with me?”

The low timbre of his voice shakes you from your reverie. You’ve simmered off, the anger replaced with a different heat. It’s been too long since the two of you have just been together, this fight might be the most communication you’ve had in the past week due to your jobs, and school. Or the worries of the world, the overwhelming need to sleep when you aren’t working, to work when you aren’t sleeping.

You’ve forgotten about each other. Briefly, but not inevitably. Never that. You feel like you may collapse.

“I’m- yeah I’m with you.”

You let out a sigh, uncrossing your arms. You look and sound as defeated as you feel. He can’t pretend to not have noticed your silky, thin sleeping gown, but he is just a man. And your nipples are hard underneath the garment and he has never not thought you’re one of the most beautiful creatures he’s ever seen. You haven’t worn it in a while, preferring his clothes to sleep in since you’ve been staying with him. He missed seeing you like this.

He steps closer. Tentatively, afraid you might run away from him. You sense his hesitancy and a piece of your heart breaks, the piece where he lives. You meet his eyes, silently inviting him, glancing from his mouth then back up to his softening gaze. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat.

“I’m sorry.” He says, earnestly. His hands threaten to tremble when you reach out and grab them, heavy in your own. He hovers above you the closer he gets, your limbs connecting in a symbiotic way. One you feel the others skin, you can’t get away from it. Not until you’re pressed together, belly to belly, your chin tilted upward.

“You - ugh.” You can’t get words out anymore. They dissolve in your larynx and your head falls, the need to cry or scream or kiss him an overwhelming choice.

“I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” He pats down your hair, rough thumbs caressing the softness of your cheeks. He pulls your face upwards again, staring down at you with regret, adoration, hunger.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have just left.”

He leans closer, till you smell the coffee on his breath and the hazelnut creamer alike. Your noses bump and rub against the other, his thick eyelashes fanning across his own cheekbones - casting a fluttery shadow.

“It’s okay now. We’re okay now.” He says it softly, just between the little space left between you two. “Let me take care of it. Please.” He closes the gap.

Some people assume it’s not supposed to feel as good as it does, kissing someone who’s lips you’ve mapped out like an atlas. That couldn’t be further from the truth, because kissing Eddie feels like being consumed.

And not just metaphorically, because it’s evident in the nips to your bottom lip, the sucking of your tongue whenever he feels it lick his teeth; that your small period of separation, and longer period of not having indulged each other, has weighed heavily on him as well. He’s starving.

You’re overtaken within seconds by the veracity of his mouth, your fingers taking purchase in the curls at his crown. Smacks and kisses and wet noises fill the small space, and the center of your stomach swells with a simmering heat. A reminder of how neglectful you both have been. Your nipples harden against him, as his dick twitches between his legs.

You feel nervous. Tentative. Excited.

His hands implore you like a new discovery, grasping at your back, and then down the sensitive slopes of your sides and over the plushness of your hips. Through the silky nightgown the sensation is riveting, enough to drive a person insane. You arch against him, and a whimper escapes your mouth into his throat.

“Mmm, mhm.” He groans.

“Eddie,” it’s a cry, wanton sound that makes him rut himself against you instinctively. Anything to relieve you. Anything to relieve himself. “baby.”

He smiles against your mouth, pecking it a few times before departing only for a second to see your kiss bitten lips, his and your spit coating your mouth. Your blown out pupils. He mirrors your appearance, like a wild creature.

“Never again,” his index fingers knuckle strokes the inside of your thigh, and you shudder, holding onto his broad shoulders for an anchor. You separate your legs without thinking. “we will never go through this again. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Three knuckles stroke your pubic mound, then down your covered slit where dampness threatens to leak. Your fingernails grip his shirt, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in anticipation. He’s so warm, so palpable. You want him to bury himself inside of you.

He’s in front of you, and then he’s not. You blink, and hair tickles your thighs like you’re frolicking through an overgrown field. Strong, rough hands lift the delicate silk of your nightie until it’s being bunched between ringed fingers above your navel. He’s on his knees, devout for you.

You gasp when his tongue broadens against your center. Your panties are just enough barrier to make you wanna cry out in desperation, while also offering enough sensation to not dare stop for even a moment to pull them off. You’re at his mercy. Or is he at yours? Neither of you know anymore, and it’s not important.

Not when he gets a taste of you. Not when he peers up at you between lust sodden lashes and sees you looking down at him like you’re about to crumble. Your knees shake and he bunches the nightie in one fist instead of two, placing his free hand on the back of your thighs to steady you while he soaks your underwear with the spit from his tongue.

The shape of your slit and the plump lips around it begins to show its phantom form through the material from the soaking. He sucks, prods with the tip of his wet muscle.

“Ed’s, fuck.” Your voice is so weak. His cock weeps in his sweats, dribbling with copious amounts of precum. It’s torturous to not touch himself but he’s too focused on watching you, pleasing you. You hums against your mound, mocking you.

He pulls the elastic to the side, not patient enough to take them off all the way. You get to see his face for a split second, cherry red cheeks and a messy halo of hair and stubble on his chin. And then, you feel it.

His nose keeps your lips separated, his tongue already splayed against the soft, sensitive flesh between them. You’re slick and sticky and coating the lower half of his face, though you have trouble grasping onto the helms of reality when he’s licking your pussy like this. He shakes his head from side to side, tongue still flat until he’s spreading your thighs farther, so that he can lick your honey from the source.

“Hold it.” He mumbles, struggling to hand the falling material of your night gown to your shaking hands, though you get the memo when it threatens to cover his head completely. You use one hand to hold it, and the other to tug at his hair.

You can barely hear anything another than the sloppy wetness of his mouth working on you, and the sound of your own heartbeat, but you’re sure you’re whining. You can feel the rawness of your throat as you let your head fall back and cry to the ceiling, feeling the need to tear up.

You grip the roots of his locks, rocking against his mouth like you’ve got no other choice. He hums, encouraged by every squeak and moan that comes out of you, by every drip of your cunt and tensing of your muscles.

He doesn’t care that your thighs are squeezing around his head, or that you can barely hold yourself together. You’re using his face like second nature and his cock weeps in his pants. He feels himself throbbing in tandem with the pulsing of your hole around his tongue.

Then he pulls your lips apart with his thumbs, revealing the pink bud that resides underneath your hood, suckling and coating it with enough spit to drip onto the floor.

“Oh god,” you pant “m’gonna cum. Please don’t stop please please please.” 

You’re throttled, and not just by the pleasure but by how fast you’re descending into your own madness. You can’t hear much of anything, see anything but the back of your own eyelids - and your boyfriend is using half of his strength to keep your body upwards as you threaten to wilt.

He doesn’t stop, per your request but to your ultimate demise. You feel yourself leaking as your clit throbs from the aftershocks of a powerful - much needed and thoroughly missed, orgasm.

You think you might pass out, but he feels the trembling in your body and despite his need to keep going until you’re completely done for, all but comatose- he stops.

Through your clouded and hazy senses, your hands tug at his face, his head, his neck. Lazily you attempt to pull him up from his knees, and it’s not your strength that does it, it’s his own. But he lets you believe you pulled him to your mouth, before he even has the chance to wipe your essence off. Not that he cares to.

Your tongues collide in a messy exploration, he’s rough and saccharine and sweet all at once. Your paw at him like you’ve never felt him before, like he didn’t just have his mouth on your most private of parts.

“I need you in me.” You slur the words between open mouthed kisses. He’s pressed so flush against you that you can feel his dick throbbing, and you’re not sure if the wetness is your own or his. Perhaps both.

You’re hungry for it. He’s still starving, and your fingers clumsily pull the waistband of his sweats down until they’re pooled at his ankles. You wrap your hand around the thick member, angrily red at the tip, veins bulging from either side. The thatch of curly hair at his base is covered by his shirt but you don’t have the energy to remove it- to do anything other than ogle at the blood rushing through him, the feel of his pulse through his manhood. He throws his head back for a split second, taking a deep breath.

You turn around, facing the sink and resting your cheek against the cool metal of the edge. You offer yourself to him like this, an invitation in the form of a leaking cunt and buckling knees. His hands, rough and wide pull this godforsaken nightgown up and over the swell of your ass, knuckles grazing the back of your thighs in the process.

You want to look at him but you’re far too flustered, ironically. It’s completely idiotic to still be embarrassed at your own need for your own boyfriend - but someone as beautiful as Eddie doesn’t come around very often. Getting to do this feels like retribution.

“You’re so pretty,” he groans, out of breath. He crudely spits on his cock, you can hear the slick sounds of his precum mixing with his saliva as he strokes himself a few times, one hand on your left hip while he guides his mauve tip to your slit.

“I’m gonna fuck all that attitude away baby.”

The stretch is jarring and unexpected, but the sounds you both make as he sticks himself passed your gummy entrance isn’t. You grip the counter, and he leans his weight over you so that he can mouth at your shoulders while he pushes himself in to the hilt- kissing your cervix before his cock moved around it.

“Yeah?” He taunts, hair tickling your back and lips smearing kisses against your nape. “You’re so goddamn wet, this is all you needed huh?”

He’s genuine within the ruggedness of his voice. Within seconds he’s pulling himself out and shoving himself back in with something fierce driving him. He’s unforgiving in his pace once he gets into a comfortable stance, kicking his sweats off of his ankles and planting his feet behind you.

It’s a symphony of sticky, wet sounds, and grunts with compositions of skin against skin in your small kitchen. It’s been so long since you’ve felt him, since he’s felt you. He’s not just fucking you from the back, he’s mounting you - panting lewdly in your ear while his hands snake themselves around your shoulders.

You cry out, nothing coherent leaving your mouth. Your poor cunt was still contracting from the orgasm he gave you with his mouth when shoved himself inside of you, and now that little spongey spot is being brutally massaged over and over again with each stroke.

“That’s - s-so - good.” Your words are staccato, followed by petulant whines. You’re thankful for his hit breath on your neck, the groans leaving him, the weight of his body behind you. He’s close while still delivering a delicious punishment - a fucking that’s meant to make you forget about anything that’s happened this past week.

“Awe baby, it feels good hmm? You - fucking hell-“

His balls tighten and he knows he’s gonna cum soon, he’s too caught up in how you’re squeezing around him, throbbing from the inside out with your admiration for him. You try to reach back and touch him, but he holds your arms in front of you, a sort of embrace and restraint all in one.

“need to cum baby, need to show you how much I love you. Need to fill you - oh baby - need to fill you all the way. That’s it - there you go there you go, I know.”

He kisses your cheek where a tear falls down, your knees beginning to tremble again in tandem with his own. He ruts and ruts and ruts, your cream coating his cock, your warmth swallowing him whole.

He pulls out, and you think you might start weeping, till he turns you around by your waist and licks the inside of your parted lips. He hiked your leg up around his lithe waist, bends his knees and maneuvers his hips forward so that he can slide back into you.

Now that he can see your face, and you can see his, you both feel cathartic.

You hang onto his shoulders, clawing at his curls and he holds your face, damp lips centimeters away from your own while your foreheads rest against each other. You look down to watch him disappear inside of you, and you marvel at it. Your juices and the sounds they make, how pretty his dick looks coated in your release and his own pre ejaculate.

“M’so fucking deep,” he’s shaking now, sweat beading down his neck. His bottom lip quivers and you begin to realize how this must feel for him as well. How badly you both needed the other. “it feels so fucking good, so good so good so good.”

He’s babbling and you pull his mouth to yours again, suckling on his tongue. With some foreign strength, you use your voice.

“Please cum, I love you Eddie. I want you to cum for me please please, I can’t take it. Cum for me cum for me cum for me I love you.”

He thinks he might cry, he’s so fucking deep when you wrap your arms around him, when your hips are connected so closely that you can’t tell where one of you begins and the other one ends - when the sweet lullaby that is your voice serenades him, begs him to let go.

“Oh god, oh fuck I’m - fuuuuck.”

He tightens, stuttering inside of you while small gasps of pleasure leave him like hiccups. You inhale the scent of his hair, feel the rise and fall of his breath from between his shoulder blades. You’re both twitching, barely standing. A mess, and certainly a sight to see.

He stays like that for a few moments, just enough for all of his cum to dribble out from the tip and into you. When he pulls out, the sound is audible and crude, and he swears to himself he will clean the mess on your kitchen floor.

You don’t know who kisses who first.

Both of you go for the others neck, cheeks, forehead. Gently, with enough love to fill an entire universe itself. It’s a juxtaposition to the way you just had each other. It’s love. Pure, unadulterated, sickeningly sweet to the melancholy.

“I’m staying here tonight,” he kisses your eyelids, then your nose, out of breath. “and I’m gonna make breakfast in the morning. We are never letting this happen again.”

You scratch his scalp.

“Which part? Cause-“ he rolls his eyes, smiling boyishly. Enough to show his dimples, flash his teeth.

“You know which part, I’ll give you whatever you want. But I’m never going this long without being around you. Not ever.”

He’s devout, sincere in a way that is irrevocable. You don’t argue, don’t wince, don’t make a face. You nod, suckling his bottom lip.

You listen.

[selfishdoll]

❛ ..SO, SO MUCH.❜

I need you bad I can't take this pain | Boy I'm 'bout to go insane ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ NEED U BAD.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you thought you were fine breaking up with your highschool sweetheart & avoiding him for a year. when, in actuality, you were not.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

angst (tiny amount), jaded reader (at first) exes to lovers, y’all were highschool sweethearts fr, tattoo artist! choso & college student reader (both 21+), “i missed you” type sex, choso being a sweetheart & very understanding, reconciling, multiple orgasms, oral sex (fem receiving ofc he’s a munch), soft dom choso, pet names & praise, excuse the amount of plot i got carried away, etc.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

jasmine sullivan & yoci carrying most of my plot ideas. this took way too long omg. also, excuse any typos or grammar mistakes as this wasn’t proofread. also this is 4k+ words so yeah.

How did relationships work? How did love work? Relinquishing a part of yourself to someone, expecting them to cherish and take care of it; doing the same for them. It was something you found silly, maybe even a little arrogant. You’ve seen too many woman in your life give a part— even their entire selves to their partners, only for the relationship to fall apart. Cheating, lies, simply drifting away from one another; so many excuses, so many reasons on why you avoided relationships like the plague.

Until you met him, Kamo Choso.

You remember clearly as if it was yesterday. Freshman year, he was seated in the back of your shared English class. Boredly looking ahead as if he didn’t want to be there. He looked rugged, maybe even a little depressed; overall, you didn’t see yourself becoming friends.. let alone lovers.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Choso had somehow slipped into your life through your beloved shared friend Yuki Tsukumo. From then on things fell into place. You don’t know when or why you started falling for him.

Was it because he was so caring to his younger brother Yuji? Or maybe how sweet he was to you? Always asking if you were okay, always by your side when things got tough, always encouraging you..

You fell, and you fell hard. But Choso fell much harder.

To him, you were perfection. Carefully crafted with zero flaws. He wanted to get on his knees and thank your mother personally for creating you. That’s how much you meant to him.

The moment these thoughts entered his mind he acted fast, declaring his feelings for you sophomore year of highschool. Not even letting himself linger for a month. He wanted, no, needed you as his. And to his happiness, you returned the feelings. From that day, highschool was nothing more then a bliss-filled blur.

You two became known for your loving relationship, many believing you two would marry after highschool. It was silly, you two were teenagers— yet the thought did make you smile. Everything was just.. perfect. There was nothing more you could ask for.

Until, talk of the future entered the bond you two had.

You wanted to become a nurse, planning to attend a college that had an excellent reputation for its program. While Choso wished to become a tattoo artist in your city. One wanted to stay, and one wanted to go. Choso declared he could handle a long-distance relationship, but you couldn’t. As selfish as it was, you simply couldn’t bare the thought of being away from him for so long. What if he strayed? What if you did? You couldn’t bare it at all— something you tearfully confessed to him the week before you moved onto campus.

You vividly remember the scene, it burned into your mind with no chance of escaping. How Choso stood silently, patiently; listening to your concerns and worries— expressionless when you apologized and ended the relationship. And what did he do? He approached you, carefully wiping away your tears as he’s done for you before.

“Take care of yourself.. okay?” He spoke, taking your cheek in a gentle grasp and leaning down; kissing your forehead— sealing the deal.

That chapter in your life was over. You weren’t with Choso anymore, mind focused on your studies and nothing more. A relationship would drag you down anyway.. you didn’t need him.. you didn’t miss him.

“Shit..” You hissed softly, quickly pulling the wand away from your eye, blinking rapidly. It was your own fault; rushing to put mascara on. You should have better time management skills given you were in college and all— but no. Here you were, fighting against time while attempting to finish getting yourself ready for a block party. You hadn’t a clue who was throwing it, only told — or more like forced — to attend by Yuki.

You jolted in your seat when a loud honk come from outside your house, moving around your vanity to peer outside; spotting Yuki’s familiar car. You breathed softly, standing from your chair and fixing your attire. You wore a cute white ring halter top, along with blue jean shorts and black wedge sandals. Gathering your phone, keys, and purse; the gold chain around your ankle jingled as you exited your bedroom and soon house, locking the door behind you.

Yuki rolled down her window, grinning at you as you walked down your driveway. “Uber for (Y/N)?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her shenanigans, opening the passenger side door and entering, shutting it behind you. You buckled up after placing your things down, sinking into the chair. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem, I just wanted to see your face firsthand when I tell you Choso would be there.” The words came out of her so nonchalantly, messing with her radio for a moment all while you stared at her blankly.

You reached for your door, but the woman was much faster; locking and starting up the car. You whipped around to glare at her, “Tsukumo! You told me he would be working.”

“Guess the client cancelled..” She mused, taking the car out of park and beginning to drive away from your house. Yuki side glanced, catching your annoyed expression which caused her to sigh, rolling her eyes. “Look, there’s gonna be quite a few people there— maybe you two won’t speak.” She shrugged, raising her eyebrows in hopes you would relax. You only sucked your teeth, leaning into the car door.

An entire year, you’ve two been away from each other. Contact dwindling into nothing after the second month of college. You two were simply busy leading different lives, you told yourself.

But again, it didn’t matter it’s not like you, missed him anyways.

The rest of the car ride was filled with random radio music and brief chatter, Yuki catching you up on things. You had avoided coming back for any holidays, knowing it would be too much for you. Luckily, she was more than happy to tell you about all the dirt she had on your shared friends.

She soon slowed infront of an unfamiliar house, putting the car into park and soon shutting it off. You glanced around, feeling your anxiety lift when you realized you didn’t see Choso’s car. Good, you could somehow melt into the crowd without him noticing you.

Silently you grabbed your phone deciding to leave your purse and charger in the glove compartment, you exited the car and shut the door behind you. Following Yuki up the driveway, porch, and into the house; music quickly overtook you, with the sweet smell of the grill and alcohol. Some people were resting in the living room or crowding the dining room table, but most were in the backyard playing football, or simply shooting the shit.

You glanced around, eyes twinkling at the familiar faces and waltzing up to them. Laughter and hugs ensued, catching up on things given you haven’t seen each other in about a year.

Your arm was locked around Shoko’s waist, talking about nonsense whilst watching Gojo and Geto play beer pong. Or more like Gojo mocking his best friend for missing such an easy shot.

It was nice seeing everyone like this, the stress of seeing your highschool sweetheart leaving rather quickly. For now you were swept away in nostalgia, enjoying being around the people you cared for.

A cup in hand, you recalled the time you walked in on your dorm mate having sex, cheeks burning from the permanent smile etched onto your features. One that faltered the moment excited voices called out to the pink-haired male entering the backyard.

“You’re finally here, Yuji!” Nobara grinned at her close friend, walking over to him; Megumi close behind. The young man apologized, talking about traffic or what not. You weren’t too concerned about that, given your eyes settled on the person walking in behind him.

Anxiety spilled into you, heart thumping against your chest as you took him in, your ex— Kamo Choso. Nothing much had changed about him, still as rugged and handsome as ever; dressed in a simple black compression shirt and baggy pants. It seemed he decided to forgo his usual hairstyle, the black tresses resting on his shoulders in a messy fashion. One that suited him perfectly.

Your breath hitched, watching his eyes zone in on your instantly. You didn’t wait for a reaction, quickly turning away and busying yourself with your phone. Your eyes did lift a little however when the man passed you, the familiar cologne burning your nostrils and causing your stomach to stir. Before you could even think you were lifting yourself from the chair and waltzing back into the house.

Luckily no one noticed or either failed to comment on your disappearance.

You found yourself heading over to the kitchen, grasping ahold of the silver fridge door and opening it; eyes scanning for some water. You murmured to yourself while continuing to look, attempting to ignore the harsh beating of your heart. You sighed the moment you finally found one, grasping it from its place on the shelf and standing up, closing the door.

Taking the cap off you lifted the bottle to your lipgloss stained lips, taking a few sips whilst leaning against the counter— relishing in the cold beverage. Your eyes closed in thought, attempting to map out a perfect plan on how to avoid Choso.

The backyard was a medium size, yet he was bound to be around Yuji. So, as long as you avoided him, Nobara, and Megumi— you could avoid Choso too! It was foolproof and perfect, nearly bringing a smile to your face.

Leaning up you pulled the bottle from your lips, twisting the cap back on and lifting yourself from the counter, turning and freezing. Breaching the threshold of the kitchen was Choso in all his glory, face turning from talking to someone to stare in front of him, eyes landing on you.

A brief silence entered the kitchen, simply taking the other in. Finally, Choso was the first to speak; “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Hey..” You spoke, annoyed by how small you sounded. You watched as he opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and shutting it closed. The man leaned against the wall beside the kitchen’s opening, opening the bottle.

You glanced around, noticing there were no many exits. You were trapped.

“How’s college?”

“Huh—“ Your head snapped back to the man, spotting his raised eyebrows, awaiting your answer. You nervously licked your lips, leaning back against the counter. “It’s uh.. been good. Classes are a little hard but, ya know.” You shrugged, feeling a heat crawl from your cheeks to the back of your ears. You dragged your gaze from the ground to him, “How’s tattooing? I heard you got your own booth, congrats.”

Choso nodded slowly, a lazy smile pulling his lips. “Yeah, thanks.” He mused softly, placing the cap back onto his water bottle. “Clientele has been good. Been going to tattoo parties and special events.. and things.”

“That’s good.” You forced a little smile, gaze faltering the moment his eyes landed on you. You felt the way they carried down your form, a familar gaze, one that always made you feel far too warm.

Another silence entered the room, both of you refusing to speak.. or leave. You told yourself time and time again you hadn’t missed Choso, that you were done; stuck on the path you’ve chosen. Yet here you were, anxiously waiting for something, anything to happen. You just.. couldn’t let go.

You gripped the bottle you held, eyes drifting back to him, zoning in on the bracelet he wore. It had red and black beads, ones all to familar to you. Starboy, was the words etched onto seven of them. You knew this, given you had your own pink and white charm bracelet labeled Stargirl.

“You still wear that?” The words left you before you could think, Choso blinking from his thoughts and glancing at his wrist. The man breathed softly, nodding soon after. “Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

Choso went silent, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyes turned up to the ceiling. Finally he shrugged, “I don’t know.” He spoke lowly, causing you to bite your lip. Feelings you had pushed to the back of your mind began to flood within you, flashes of memories you had kept locked away following after.

You turned, rapidly blinking to eliminate the tears threatening to tread down your face. You were kidding yourself for months, thinking you hadn’t missed him. Thinking you were better then the woman in your life, able to cut a man off without a second thought. Yet your heart betrayed you in the most painful way, wanting nothing more to leap into his arms and cry.

His cologne became stronger, a gentle, familiar hand hesitantly being placed onto the one that held your bottle. Your eyes drifted to his face, spotting the concerned look he wore. That was enough for you, tears spilling and traveling down your dark brown cheeks, mouth opening but unable to speak.

But Choso knew what you wanted to say, knew how you felt. The man gently grabbed the bottle from your hand, placing it off to the side whilst his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He ignored the wet feeling that tainted his shirt, resting his chin onto your head all while continuing to hold you. Choso breathed as your shaky hands reached around, grasping his shirt as your buried your face deeper into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Choso..” You managed to whimper out, sniffling shortly after. The words escaped you again, delving into a soft mantra that caused the man to pull you even closer, softly shushing and soothing you. You stood there in his arms, feeling every bit of resolve melt away.

You missed Choso so much, it hurt. The pain rendering your whole body limp, using him for stability.

It took a moment to calm yourself down, soon pulling away, warming as the man reached over to wipe your tears. Just like he did a year ago and so many years prior.

“Why are you apologizing?.. You don’t have to—“

“I didn’t compromise. I was so stuck on myself, running at the first sign of conflict.” You spoke softly, leaning into his palm the moment held your cheek. “I want to try again.. I want to be with you again, Choso. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

The words had barely left you before his lips were covering your own, taking your breath away easily. The familiar, wonderful feeling took over your mind, hands sliding up to wrap around his neck; fingers curling into his messy hair. The moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip you were parting them, pressing your body into him as a needy sigh escaped you. His hands traveled to the underside of your thighs, lifting you up and placing you on the counter— all while continuing the kiss.

Your legs opened wide, locking around him the moment he stepped between them. The kiss deepened, his hands resting on your ass as soft moans and hisses entering the atmosphere. Sooner then you hoped the kiss ended, pulling away as soft pants fanned on each other’s skin.

“I missed you too.. so, so much.” Choso murmured softly, gripping your plush form as if you would disappear in thin air. No other words followed, the man capturing your lips with such intensity you were tugging at his tresses. Languidly moving his lips, leaving you breathless, threatening to devour you. Your legs tightened around his form, feeling hot beneath your clothes.

His name fell from your lips in a soft whimper, pulling back and resting your head against the cabinet— gasping the moment his lips attached to your neck. Your eyebrows knitted close together, biting your lip as his teeth gently grazed your skin. “Choso, Choso.. not here— we can’t..”

While his lips didn’t stop he listened to your warning, sliding his hands underneath you and lifting you off the counter. You tightened your arms around his neck, face hot with embarrassment as he walked you from the kitchen and towards the back of the house— everyone luckily none the wiser given they were all in the backyard now.

Moving towards a random bedroom he opened the door, shutting and locking it behind him. Waltzing over to the bed he sat down, placing in you in his lap all while his lips continued to press gentle kisses against your neck, collarbone, and throat. Your hands traveled, finding the edge of his shirt and tugging on it, feeling his hands fall from your body to his shirt— peeling it off for you. Tracing his skin, feeling his sculpted sink in the moment your feathery touches reached low— gasped as Choso gently bit your neck, pushing to lay you down on the soft blankets.

“Missed this.. missed your touch, smell, how you taste..” His words drifted, catching onto the the edge of your shirt and slowly pulling off your body. Choso breathed, taking in your naked chest, leaning down. The cool, silver chain he wore tickled your skin as his lips ghosted your chest, a warm hand grabbing your breast to gently squeeze.

You gasped as his tongue glided across your areola and slowly hardening nipple, feeling his free hand flicking the button on your shorts, entering them shortly after. Choso began to suck on your hardened bud, all while his fingers breached your panties, two fingers slowly circling your clit. Your legs rose, hips rising into his touch as your head leaned back against the mattress. Soft breaths of pleasure escaped you, gripping his hair as your eyes were pinched closed.

“You missed this, pretty girl? Missed how easily I could drive you crazy from just my fingers?..” He questioned softly, fingers lowering to push into you, hissing at the way your walls clung to his digits all while his thumb busied itself, rubbing tight circles onto your hard button.

You nodded, clinging onto him as his fingers thrusted and scissored inside of you. “Yes.. fuck— yes.. Missed this so much, Choso.” You gasped, whimpers escaping you as another finger came to stretch you. Wet muffled squelches carried with each thrust and curl into your pussy, bruised lips parted as melodic moans escaped you.

The man hummed softly in enjoyment, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. Sweeter, softer then the way he was ruining you with his fingers, pushing against your gummy walls affectively leading you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whimpered in his mouth, nails dragging from his hair to his arm, feeling the muscles tense with each movement of his hand.

You legs tightened around him, pulling back to gasp, throwing a hand over your mouth the moment you came— muffling the moan that escaped you. Your mess soiled his fingers and your panties, legs shaking as you felt him slowly withdraw his fingers. You breathed into your palm, barely registering his hands latching onto your shorts and peeling them off your body, panties following.

There, his hands slid to the inside of your thighs, pushing them open to reveal the price between them. Choso moaned softly from the sight, hands rising to place his thumbs onto your soaked folds, spreading them. “So messy, princess.” The man teased softly, reaching to press his thumb against your sensitive clit, grinning at the way you whined.

“Choso, please..” You breathed, watching as his body lowered, breath hitching the moment his cool breath fanned across your wet cunt. You whimpered as his thick tongue dragged a stripe up to your clit, the tip circling the button. Your legs threatened to close, causing the man to pull you closer, legs stretched out and resting on his shoulders. Your fingers curled into his hair, crying out the moment his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and running the flat of his tongue against it.

The man pulled back for a moment, hands sliding under your ass and gripping the warm globes, lifting you a little just to smother himself in your pussy. His tongue moved wickedly, gliding up and down your slit before dipping into your warm entrance, thrusting and curling against your walls.

Your fingers clung to his hair, free hand placed against your mouth as you bit your palm, covering the desperate moans that escaped you. Your hips moved, grinding into his face as little tears built within your eyes. Slurping and lapping, enjoying every single drop that dripped from your pussy, moans escaping him. His hips ground into the blankets, chasing your orgasm with such intensity.

Your stomach clenched, arching up off the bed as a muffled swear escaped you, creaming all over his face, feeling his hands tightened as he licked you clean. Your limp body fell back against the blankets, breathing heavily as your legs shook. Soon enough he released you, rising from his spot between your legs and dragging his hands from your ass to your thighs, soothing the warm flesh.

Pushing forward he leaned over your body, hand carrying to your throat and gently grabbing it, pressing his wet lips against your own; you softly moaning at your taste. Slowly, the two of you continued to kiss, his other hand drifting to his sweats to push down his body, boxers following.

Choso pulled away, placing his forehead against your own, sliding his cock between your slit— rubbing against you slowly. Your fingers locked around his wrist, desperate pleas escaping you as your hips rose, searching for more. The man gave a breathy chuckle, smoothing his thumb against your throat. “Needy aren’t we?” The man mused, leaning to kiss between your eyes, hearing you whine.

“Need you, Choso..”

“You need me so bad, put it in yourself.” The man spoke, watching you bashfully blink at him, grinning as you attempted to shy away from his gaze. His hand rose, grabbing your wrist and carrying it between the two of you. Your much smaller hand wrapped around his cock, a hiss escaping his lips from the touch. “Go on, princess..” Choso breathed, gripping the sheets beside him as your hips rose, adjusting to line him up with your entrance before slowly sinking inside.

You never got accustomed to how Choso stretched you— not the first time and definitely not now. Your lips parted, soft moans escaping you as your hips continued to slowly rise. A choked cry escaped you however the moment he flicked his hips forward, burying himself deep inside. “Ch—choso! You..” You whimpered, walls pulsing around his heavy length, feeling him kiss your cheeks.

“Guess I’m just as needy as you baby.” Choso spoke, lip twitching into a subtle smirk. He rose, releasing your throat and resting on his hutches. Hands found the back of your knees, a steady grip as he slowly pushed them down to your chest, watching you breath sharply. Pulling his hips back until the tip was inside, Choso thrusted forward, taking in the way your body jumped and the prettiest moan escaped you.

His rhythm stared quickly, hips snapping back and forth, reaching deep inside; pushing against a spot that caused you to see stars. Your fingers balled up the sheets underneath you, moans escaping you. You had long forgotten the party going on outside, long forgotten the fact you two were separated for an entire year— your mind only focused on how his cock so easily ruined you, toes curling and anklet jingling with each thrust.

The man leaned down, folding you even more as he pressed a hand against the bed, the other curling in your hair, lifting you into a messy kiss. Tongues curling, teeth bumping into each other, eating up the other’s moans as pleasure consumed you. His chain tickled your heated skin, dragging across each time he rutted into you.

“Fuck..” Choso gasped, pulling back to breath, hand moving to gently grabbing your cheeks. “Keep your eyes right here, princess.. that’s it.. look so pretty like this.” He spoke, feeling you clench with each praise that left his mouth.

You felt so damn good, hugging him close; sucking him in each time he pulled back. Your arousal dripped down his length, a sticky ring forming at the base of his cock. Just when your hand rose to cover your mouth again, Choso was snatching your wrist, pressing it against the bed.

“No, no— waited far too fucking long to have you covering your mouth.” He hissed harshly, intertwining your fingers as he buried himself deeper, hitting your cervix.

The pain was quickly washed away with pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came around his cock— a high pitched cry escaping your throat. Tears trickled down your cheeks, other hand falling to his waist to push, and whine; the overstimulation becoming too much.

All for Choso to simply shake his head, pace quickening as he drilled you into the bed. “Know you got another in you.. come on (Y/N).”

You whimpered, head pressed into the blankets as sobs escaped you. “Cho—Choso! Hah.. Can..can’t think, fuck!”

“Then don’t.” The man chuckled in a breathy tone, leaning close as his lips ghosted your lips. “Let me fuck everything out of your mind except for how good I’m making you feel..” A groan escaped him shortly after, eyes glossing over as he felt himself getting close.

Thrusts became desperate, the two of you dissolving into pathetic fits of moans and whines, hands moving across the other’s skin to grip and mark up. Just when you felt your mind going blank you shook, convulsing as you came all over his cock again.

Choso was close behind, burying himself deep and coming; eyes pinched close as he gripped you tightly. His hips stilled, heavy pants escaping the two of you.

The man pulled out shortly after, rolling off your body and falling to your side. Choso didn’t leave you alone long, reaching for your waist and pulling you into his side, turning to place a feverish kiss to his forehead.

A blissful silence covered the silence, simply enjoying the other’s company and warm bodies. Soon though, you rose up slowly, ignoring the aching of your body as your hand found his cheek. “I love you, Choso.”

He smiled at you, thumb caressing your skin as he kissed you gently— mumbling the same on your lips. Moments passed before you two pulled away, you snuggling in his neck arm strewn across his body.

Until.. you blinked, glancing around the room. “Wait.. whose room is this?”

“It’s a guest room.” He murmured back, chuckling softly after. “Gojo might be a little pissed if he finds out about this.”

You shook your head a little, sighing softly. “Choso..”

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 17

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 8k

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Note: it’s actually difficult to believe it’s been eight months since I’ve updated, went through two jobs, a friend group and a boyfriend who gaslit the absolute fuck out of me and made me experience female hysteria 😍 I wrote this chapter the night he broke up with me so it just has that nice little extra touch of ✨ intensity ✨ enjoy lovies and I will be back hopefully sooner then last time with another update

It felt wrong, packing a small case of clothes while so many things at the castle had yet to play out, and Wheein’s life was hanging in the balance of it.

You had no intentions to trudge your way to the barracks but here you were; early morning where all of the guards were training and the person you were looking for was watching them, hands on his hips as he called out to one of them to tighten their guard.

You hadn’t planned on talking to him today, but leaving without so much as saying a word felt wrong, and perhaps after everything that had happened you were searching for sober reassurance.

“Jungkook.”

Everybody froze at the sound of your voice, you ignored all the eyes on you, after having lived in Penumbra for almost a year, you had somewhere along the way gotten used to all of the eyes that constantly followed you.

The guards exchanged awkward glances with one another, Jungkook looked surprised by your appearance, eyes glancing over you as if you were a hallucination, but after a moment it was evident you weren’t going to disappear upon blinking.

He glanced between you and the guards before he waved them off, “Keep going.”

You couldn’t stand the hopeful look in his eyes, almost a bit bashful as you walked in line with him further away from the barracks, “How can you expect me to leave the castle when Wheein is in a dungeon? And furthermore sending your aunt to try and reconcile with me?”

Jungkook frowned, “Well I doubted you wanted to see me after my drunk display- which truth be told I hardly remember anything I said, and It’s probably for the best that I don’t, Y/n…” He sighed as he stopped, “It was only a suggestion, it crossed my mind about the estate because truthfully I think you would like it there, and it would be safe,” His hands tenderly grabbed your shoulders as your lips curled in anger but you said nothing, “And I think it would be good for you to put all of this out of your head for a few days. I’ll continue to handle things here and if things change with Wheein trust that I’ll be able to take care of it.”

Your expression didn’t change as Jungkook frowned, “I would also like to remind you that she’s been one of my closest friends since I was a child. You’re not the only one who cares for her.”

You begrudgingly looked away from him but your expression softened, a stab of guilt surging through your stomach at the realization that he was very much right, “I know, I’m sorry I just-”

“Don’t be,” Jungkook replied, “You have a mean bite but I can appreciate your loyalty. I can’t undo the past but I want to make things right. I…” Jungkook paused, looking hesitant his eyes darting away from you and then back to you once more.

You offered no words forcing him to sigh, as if it was difficult for him to admit, “I want to be with you Y/n, not as two people amicable due to marriage or friends on uneasy terms…” He bit down on his cheek, unable to hold your steely gaze as his hand hesitantly reached out, tenderly stroking along your jawline, “I want more than that with you, I want all of the fire and all of the rage, I want the pain, the hardships. I want you, all of you, every flaw that makes you, you.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes had blurred until his thumbs were tenderly pushing your tears away, “Is this a declaration?”

“It’s a promise.” Jungkook’s eyes held such a softness in them filled with something you still felt uncertain to assume, “You told me that you wanted to bear the deepest parts of yourself to me, all of your insecurities, the parts you don’t like about yourself, the parts you may even hate, so I am standing here to tell you to show me, show me all of it, and I will still take you as you are.”

He was saying many overwhelming words to you, but you knew he was dancing around the most important word, you could see it in his eyes, how it lingered on the tip of his tongue.

But something was stopping him from truly confessing it.

Perhaps even after all of these months, it was still too soon.

Evidently so given your circumstances.

“I don’t want you away from me,” Jungkook admitted, a frown slowly forming on his lips, “But if that’s what it takes, I would wait a lifetime if it meant your forgiveness, if it meant a second chance to be with you.”

“Is that why you’re willing to send me away?” You sniffled, “Otherwise you’ll continue to drink and wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Jungkook gave a weak smile, “But you can’t deny it got my point across didn’t it?”

Just his smile made something in you crumble, a vast desire to embrace him here and to forgive him, surely you could put this all behind you…?

But a bigger part of you didn’t want to rush this, you didn’t want to be complacent anymore, that was how you got into this situation, how you immediately jumped to Claudin’s offer rather than confide in the person you were married to.

It was such a raw feeling, you could feel it licking at your very soul, trying to tame your desire to throw all caution to the wind once more.

And for a brief moment you could feel Jungkook have the same reaction as you, as if it took every fiber in his being to not beg you to stay, you don’t know if you could stand your ground against him again if he came on as strong as he had last night.

“Just for a few days.” You whispered out as he frowned, giving you an understanding nod.

“You’ll love it there.” His hands finally let go of you, somewhat reluctantly.

And then it was silent for a long moment, tension still lingering in the air and both of you clearly hesitant.

“Then…I’ll see you in a few days.” You mumbled and Jungkook nodded once more. It felt like the ground was trying to engulf your feet as you turned around, feeling oddly empty at your goodbye, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

What was it you had hoped for? A hug…?

Maybe a kiss…?

But then again, it felt as though you were no longer deserving of those things, Jungkook may have done things to hurt you but you had also done things to hurt him, how could you both love one another if you couldn’t trust one another first?

You wished Jungkook had reached out for you, to at least give you some form of affection before leaving, but he also knew this was true, and let you leave with no grief.

It left you feeling empty inside, but this was for the best.

You journeyed over horseback for the day, trying to leave your fretting heart behind as you nervously glanced back at the far away sight of the castle, what if something developed with Wheein?

You felt as though you were betraying her just by leaving, more than anything you were desperate to get her back, perhaps that was why Jungkook was sending you away, as if he sensed your desperation would only heighten the longer this went on.

Dare you say, he feared the worst might happen if you stayed.

Your grip tightened on your reigns, once more trying to put it out of your mind, taking a deep breath you took in the heady scent of the pine tree’s the surrounded you, the Estate was much closer to the mountains then you had anticipated, by midday you had journeyed far enough that snow had already reached the ground.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi had slowed his horse down to ride next to you, his eyes however still scoured ahead for possible danger.

“What do you mean?” You frowned as you glanced at his back, hearing a branch snap as your eyes darted towards the left of him.

Your faithful companion Fenrir having accidentally broke the branch he had been carrying in his mouth the past hour he had grown fond of, a whine leaving him in disappointment as he picked up the bigger side.

“Journeying away from the castle during these trying times…” Yoongi glanced back at you, a frown of his own, “It can’t be easy leaving with everything that’s happened.”

You didn’t reply for a long moment, Yoongi slowed down to ride beside you as he curiously took in your expression.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally relented, “It is difficult, but…After a long night, I figured this was probably best. It seems like my involvement in things only tends to make them worse. And truthfully there's no telling what lengths I’d go to at this point to get Wheein back.”

“Oh?” Yoongi looked curiosity once more, “I didn’t realize you had such a taste for danger.”

His joke made a smile finally tug on your lips, “Neither did I before coming to Penumbra. It seems this kingdom has a way of bringing out the primitive nature in me. But then again, it seems people have always looked down on me when I think of it.”

“On you?” Yoongi scoffed in amusement, “Dryad Matron of Eunoia? It’s difficult to believe, you’re like a pillar of light to the commonwealth of Penumbra, it used to drive the Prince nuts during your engagement.”

“It did…?” You peered somewhat hesitantly at him.

This made Yoongi grin, “Oh yes, when news of your engagement first broke out it had the people ecstatic, it had him gagging every second he heard good things of you.”

“This is hardly making me feel better…” You winced, though a small part of you was amused to hear this, though you wish you could say the same.

It always seemed to you that people in Penumbra didn’t fully grasp just how much people feared them on the outside world, instead poking fun at the titles they had earned as if it was a little joke.

The whole two years of your engagement are two years you’d rather die then live through again, the anxiety that kept you up at night, the endless amounts of tears you cried, the emptiness it left inside you how no one even tried to comfort you.

Looking back you understood, nobody wanted to feed you lies to comfort you, but at the time, you didn’t understand, it felt cruel.

“Not everyone feels that way about me, evidently from what I saw in the Underside.” You replied, somewhat reminiscing on the horrendous memory of the mock version of you.

“You shouldn’t pay that any mind,” Yoongi scoffed, “The humor is juvenile there, everything it stands for is juvenile, even it’s name; the Underside was a joke, a mockery meant for every royal that has to say it’s name with seriousness, point being- they don’t respect anyone who won’t give them money.”

You only shook your head, “It’s not just that though, there has always been a small part of people and court alike who haven’t liked me, even long before I was engaged to Jungkook. I was known for having a temper,” It made you smile wryly, “-The Bitch of Eunoia, that’s what they ran around calling me behind my back. It was horrendous in Kimhae.”

“Was it now?” Yoongi looked amused by this, “That in some ways does, and doesn’t surprise me.”

“The court ladies in Eunoia often liked to call me that as well. But it was very pronounced by Kimhae court men. When I was younger, I used to wear traditional Eunoian attire when i’d visit. Apparently shoulders and knee’s used to drive them crazy. I had one of the aristocrats boldly ask me if I was an exotic woman of the night, willing to pay for me.”

Yoongi’s jaw had dropped making you laugh as he gestured you on, “What did you say?”

“Something along the lines of calling him a perverted old man whom ought to have his loins cut off for making such a comment to a women- let alone a Princess.” The memory made you smile as you shook your head, “The Bitch of Eunoia…why is it men are allowed to be angry Yoongi? Why is it women are shamed so?”

Yoongi let out a hum, “This is indeed a good question, but perhap it’s because they know a woman's scorn could even bring heaven out of the sky. I’m not all too surprised about Kimhae- but you said Eunoians called you this as well?”

Your smile became saddened, “By many court ladies yes,” You scratched your cheek in thought, “I was always lonely as a child…the war took a toll on me, I was temperamental and childish. But the court ladies as children, also liked to mock me and egg me on. As we grew older they grew closer and I still stayed a distance away. They’d find any reason to pick me apart or give me more work to do. They were practically leaping for joy when the news broke that I was engaged.”

“Why do you think that was though?” Yoongi asked, “That they didn’t like you?”

You shrugged, you had never really thought about it much, rather you preferred to keep the past where it was rather then dwell on it, “I suppose it had a lot to do with the fact that while we were all training to be healers I excelled more at it, it came naturally to me and they ended up putting me in the tents before the others. They all assumed it was from favoritism…Maybe it was,” You pondered on this briefly, “I just remember thinking it wasn’t fair.”

“Fair?”

You didn’t elaborate on the word for a long moment, feeling something akin to guilt bubble in your stomach.

You glanced off into the distance where the mountains towered high, it made you feel so tiny in comparison to its greatness, and briefly you felt awe.

You always admired nature, how vast it was compared to you and all your humanly troubles, you turned to it and it’s kin when you needed comfort and in these moments you could turn to it when you were also troubled with words.

It was difficult to adequately explain to people the rage you had felt since you were a child, anger had always been in your bones, from the moment you were born. Your mother used to tell you, that when she gave birth, you had come out of her womb with a roaring cry.

You craved to be vulnerable, to be soft and tender, to be all the things you were not, and you were many things, just not those.

Many people people heard you, they just never listened, didn’t understand.

“I had a lot of resentment as a child, to everything, the war, my parents, our country. I didn’t want to be a healer, I didn’t want to have to watch people in my care die, I didn’t want to attend the burnings or hear the whales of agony and pain, the cries of mourning, the people who blamed me for not being able to save their loved ones.”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel haunted by those memories, watching the lifeforce leave someone's body as you tried to stop the bleeding, the maimed limbs and mangled bodies that were beyond your skill or help.

“I didn’t want to be made to go past our lesson times to keep studying, or made to go back in to practice when all the other girls were allowed to play. Or put in a tent over night while they all slept. It wasn’t fair.”You mumbled, perhaps still a lingering tone of resentment.

The past was the past, it couldn’t be changed, you had come to terms with this, but if you stopped and really thought about it, old feelings old eventually begin to resurface, it was why you tried so desperately to just forget about it.

At one time you blamed Penumbra, you hated it’s people for what they did, what they caused.

But then you married Jungkook and you journeyed here yourself, and saw with your own eyes, that these people, were simply people, who were also victims of their own royalty.

You felt the soft grip of a hand on your shoulder, “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” Yoongi held a face of sympathy, “We all felt the same, or…I suppose a mutual feeling on the opposite side of things. Children being forced to enlist into a war we didn’t want to wage with little choice…”

You gently grabbed his hand giving it a small squeeze, a weak smile on your face, “It wasn’t fair for any of us. We’re all a bi-product of our parents' sins. It’s up to us now to break that cycle.”

You had arrived to the estate by nightfall and it was shrouded in tall pine and fir trees, the aroma had you closing your eyes for a moment to savor it, just as Jungkook said, it truly was beautiful.

Snow covered the ground in a few inches, and a chill was left in your bones, but you settled in rather nicely, Yoongi had managed to get a fire going rather quickly and it was quiet in the solitude of the estate.

For once, it was nice to be able to breathe without being watched.

The first two days had went by surprisingly quick, but you had found a natural rhythm in nature, you went on long peaceful walks, kept yourself wrapped in a blanket while sitting on the terrace taking in the crisp cool air.

You had even spent the evening watching the snowfall outside, enchanted at how it came in big fluttering puffy balls, you had heard of snow before, but you had never actually seen it fall from the sky, like a thousand little gifts from the heavens.

It was dull and gray out today, the same as it had been for the last week now, at the estate was unsurprisingly no different.

Today however you had Yoongi set up some haybales in the pit area where guards would typically be trained, it was run down now, old boxes used as storage had been broken down and were hazardously strewn everywhere, long nine inch rusty nails sticking out of wooden pieces at razor sharp jagged angles.

But with Yoongi’s help you both had piled it up safely away and got a decent bit of space ready for training.

“Too stiff-”

“Ah!”

It was a second too late, you had already released the string, sending the arrow flying, it had veered off target as the string slapped your forearm with a sharp snap causing you to drop it.

Fenrir suddenly popped up from the ground where he had been laid out the last half hour, head cocked in concern at the noise that escaped you.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Yoongi groaned, “You can’t hold it with a stiff arm! Look at this!” He got up from his spot as he held up your arm by the wrist, “It looks like somebody gave you a lashing! Jungkook will have my head if it isn’t heal by tomorrow.”

Your lips twisted into a sulky pout, “I am trying!”

“Not hard enough that’s the fifth time within the hour,” Yoongi whistled out as he let you go, Fenrir walking up to you as he sniffed your hand, giving it a lick before nudging it.

You rubbed your forearm, that was undeniably sore and throbbing with pain before placing your hand on Fenrir’s head to give it a nice long rub.

He had grown remarkably big in the last month, almost as big as you now, just a five or six inches shorter, it made you give a sad frown, at how big he was and soon he’d become a monstrous size…

You’d simply have to build a bigger stable you supposed.

“Aim comes naturally but holding a weapon does not,” You sighed as you placed both your hands on Fenrir’s head, now giving him generous rubs and pats that had him giving a toothy puppy grin that made you smile, “I’ve practiced here and there with a bow but with everything going on, I just haven’t made it a priority.”

Yoongi sighed, “Natural ability will only get you so far, discipline if a far greater advantage Princess, thankfully we can start working on this daily, I think it’d be good for you to have a hobby.”

“I have hobbies.” You frowned as crossed your arms.

“Such as…?” Yoongi gestured.

“Well…” You could think of several as a matter of fact, but you had given them all up once you had moved to Penumbra, the thought made you frown in realization, you had been so caught up in all the highs and lows of your new life that it was true.

You had hobbies, you just never participated in any of them.

“I suppose it would do me some good to work on it,” You sighed as you relented, “I still feel a tad guilty though, shouldn’t I be honing my skill in swordsmanship? Jungkook once told me that it’s expected the Crowned Prince and Princess are supposed to be the best at it.”

“Well…” Yoongi stretched the word, “This is true but, I don’t think somebody is going to fault you for not being the best at it. I’d like to think it’s an expectation from those born in Penumbra, not those who marry in. Not only this but if you are inclined to another form of weaponry, then it’s as simple as that.

“As long as you have some form of sword training then it’ll do,” Yoongi shrugged, “What matters is personal protection, some training is better then none, but having a form of training you’re good at is even better.”

“You Penumbrian’s certainly like taking precautions.” You sighed wistfully as you picked up your bow once more.

“The more the better,” Yoongi said, “Guards are great, but what happens when you’re caught without any? Learning to defend yourself is vital.”

You glanced down at your bow, “I understand but…”

“But?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, I suppose a part of me just feels odd,” You replied, “I grew up being taught to save lives, not take them,” You rubbed your neck in uncertainty, “When I took the Dryad’s oath, it was a promise to myself and my ancestors that I would abstain from our carnal nature. That I would never take a life nor would I consume its flesh. Animal or human. Even though the chances of me having to defend myself in such a way are so low, it’s odd to train for it, after taking that oath and living by it my whole life.”

Yoongi let out a small smile, “Then don’t view it as such.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head.

“Sword play is considered an art form in Penumbra, you can view a bow in the same light. It’s quite a beautiful thing really, it’s not just aiming and shooting, it’s how you hold it, the type of arrow you use, the weight of your feet. A lot goes into it.”

You thought on this for a while before nodding, “I suppose you are right.”

“Min Yoongi! I’m looking for a Min Yoongi?”

A voice called out that had you both glancing around the courtyard before seeing the courier at the gates glancing around before meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” Yoongi called out, walking up to meet him.

“I have a letter for you sire! It was urgent from the court” The courier dug through his bag before handing it to him, giving a short bow to you and then departing.

You glanced at it anxiously as you exchanged a look with Yoongi, was this about Wheein?

Yoongi opened the letter, reading it before he sighed,

“What, what is it?” You asked, anxiety in your voice.

“It’s not about Wheein,” You let out a breath in relief as Yoongi continued, “But it is a request for help.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Yoongi sighed, “There’s a watchtower just east of here, about an hour away give or take on horseback, apparently they’ve been dealing with a gang of bandits up there. Supposedly they’re going to siege the tower.”

“They can do that?” You asked in surprise.

Yoongi shrugged, “I suppose so, I don’t know what they think I can do about it.”

“Well you said you were an assassin before you became a knight? So surely that counts for something.” You said, setting down your bow on a lonely bale of hay.

Yoongi sighed as he folded the letter back up, “Even so, I won’t just leave you here by yourself.”

You frowned, “It’s only us here, and it’s secluded so I won’t be in any real danger, and you said it was only an hour away. I doubt you’d take long in taking them down.”

“Are you just trying to get rid of me?” Yoongi asked in mild amusement.

“I would never!” You said, “But I’d hate to see something unfortunate happen that could be prevented, you’re far closer then someone is to the castle. It would make the most sense for you to go.”

Yoongi sighed, “Even if I’m over cautious, it doesn’t sit right leaving you here all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be alone!” You replied, grinning as you gave Fenrir a solid pat, “Fenrir will defend me! Jungkook and I have been working on commands. Sit!”

Fenrir immediately complied.

“Very fierce.” Yoongi said dryly.

You held up a finger, grabbing a piece of wooden box that was free of any nails off the ground, “Fenrir,” He perked up at his name, “Attack!” You threw it causing his gaze to follow it with a loud snarling howl, his jaws crunching the board in half immediately grabbing the smaller end.

Running back to you before dropping down on his front paws, tail wagging as he tried to get you to chase him.

Yoongi looked a bit more startled at the thick board of wood that had been crushed as he nodded, “Okay, a little more fierce than before…” Yoongi thought about it for a long moment, “I suppose if I left now I would make it back by supper….Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

You gave him a small smile, “It’s only a few hours, I think I’ll be able to manage.”

Yoongi still seemed hesitant but he nodded, “I’ll go gather a few things then and be off. The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be back.”

“It’s one night,” You smiled, “And then we’ll be back at the castle tomorrow.”

You had waved Yoongi off before you continued on with your day.

Spending another few hours training with your bow you had eventually given up once the string of your bow hit a particularly sensitive spot on your forearm.

The rest of your day had been spent taking walks along the trail’s with Fenrir before eventually settling inside, roaming the halls and exploring empty rooms.

And eventually the afternoon came.

But slowly the sun began to set and a vague feeling of dread followed along with it.

Yoongi…would’ve been back by now, right?

Or perhaps it took him longer to clear out the bandits.

You nodded at this as you stayed curled up in your large chair, Fenrir curled up beneath your feet as he let out a sigh, as if sensing your discomfort and unsatisfied with it.

Continuing to read, time went on and soon the sun had set.

You had managed to get a fire going on your own and had lit the candles in the hall, making the estate feel less consuming then it had before but it didn’t quell your anxiousness as the hour went on later.

Yoongi would certainly be back by now…

You were certain you’d manage the commute back to the castle if you had too but…You wouldn’t feel right just leaving without him, but you also had no way of sending a message to the castle for help without going back yourself.

You felt at a loss for what to do, as you roamed the main hall, pausing at the sound of the gate opening. Opening the doorway you hurried out to the courtyard.

“Yoongi, I’ve been waiting all day, you worried me sick!” You stopped short at the sight ahead of you.

“Not who you were expecting?”

Di Jin’s smug smile was the last thing you saw before the sudden blow to your head caused your vision to go dark.

“You look lost.” Jimin commented as he plopped in a seat right next to his dearest friend, both sat out for breakfast on the terrace.

“Was it a good idea sending her to the Estate?” Jungkook stared down in hard contemplation, his food untouched, “If something happens I won’t be able too…!”

He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to lean back in his chair, but despite the motion his body refused to relax.

You had left two days ago and he felt a void ever since.

Jungkook didn’t realize how much your presence had filled every inch of the castle until you had left, and now, he felt utterly useless, it was one thing for you to be mad at him, it was another for you to be gone.

Jimin looked amused but felt bad for him nonetheless, “Nothing is going to happen to her, the estate is nice and tucked away, the entire court has forgotten about it anyways, it hasn’t been used in years. You did a good thing.”

“Did I?” Jungkook finally slumped.

He had been constantly replaying his last memory of you, the conversation you both had before you left, the memory of you looking up at him for a long moment as if silently yearning for some form of affection.

It left Jungkook’s hands twitching and an unfamiliar ache in his chest, he couldn’t even describe how it felt. And he was honest when he spoke with you the night before, true he didn’t remember much, but what he did remember was straight from his heart, he thought he knew many things.

But after meeting you he found out quickly that he knew nothing at all.

Tomorrow, surely you’d be back tomorrow. You hadn’t given him an exact timeframe, but surely when you said a few days, you had meant no more then three?

“What if I-”

“No.” Jimin cut him off, “The whole point of her going was to get out of the castle and by default away from you. Not only that but what if something happened to Wheein while you were gone?”

Jungkook sunk back in his chair, that was right…He had promised you he would take care of anything that might possibly happen.

He wouldn’t let you down.

“Have you found any evidence yet?” Jungkook lowered his voice, his gaze lingering on the far side of the table where Claudin had been dining with a group of court ladies.

Jimin frowned, “Yes but the problem is getting it open,” He huffed, “I was able to slip into his room last night, it was empty but he has a lock box beneath a hollowed broken floorboard piece, seems he was in a hurry when he left, otherwise it wouldn’t have been left afar.

“Regardless I haven’t been able to crack the lock. Whatever is in there, it has a master’s lock on it. I’ll need at least another dozen picks before I even come close to cracking it.”

Jungkook sighed as he shook his head in disdain, “Of course when we need Yoongi he’s gone.”

Their elder would be able to open it within the hour if he was here.

Jimin frowned as well, “I’ll try again this afternoon.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, “That’s early for you.”

“We’re running out of time Jungkook,” Jimin sighed, sinking back into his chair as well, eyeing Claudin with a certain wryness, “I keep hearing stirrings from the guards about how they’ve narrowed their search, but they’re hellbent on saying it was Wheein.”

“Sire,”

They both paused at the sight of Taehyun, a frown on his face as he glanced between them both, an anxious look as he bowed slightly, “It’s the council…they’ve summoned you. It doesn’t sound good, you should come as well Jimin.”

Jungkook glanced at his friend but said nothing as he stood up, not liking this one bit.

The walk to the throne room was swift and Jungkook wasted no time in arriving, the other council members had just arrived as well.

Clearly he wasn’t the only one uncertain of what was going on, other members had started hushing whispers to one another, all glancing in Jungkook’s direction occasionally as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he glanced at the empty throne the seats on its left occupied by his aunt and uncle whispering to one another.

They both glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

The tension felt suffocating and the longer it lasted the more anxious Jungkook felt, seconds turned into minutes and the whispers began to get louder.

And all within a moment, the doors open and a sweepingly silence took over the room save for the sound of boots against the ground. Dae Seong walked with confience in every step before standing before everyone on the throne.

“It is with confidence I have come to announce something of the utmost importance,” His voice boomed, “The attempted assassination on our Crowned Princess, was indeed committed by her maid Jung Wheein, we have reason enough to believe it was her as all the evidence points as such. Her form of punishment will be burning at the stake, tonight at the height of the moon. I ask you all join me on this divine distribution of punishment,”

Groaning softly your vision was blurry at first, and the first person to appear in your vision was not who you expected.

“Not so quick witted now are you Eunoian Bitch,” Seohyun sneered, her smirking figure beneath you as your vision of her doubled.

Your mind was confused as you only remembered Di Jin being here, your eyes closed briefly only for a sharp pain to spread through your side that you recognized as being kicked in the side by her.

Groaning your eyes opened and her eyes beaded, sneering at you as another voice spoke, “Come along now Seohyun, why don’t you go see if that insufferable knight has managed to come back yet, I will finish our business here.”

She eyed you warily but said no more as she left and soon Di Jin stood in front of you, “You have truly been a pain in my ass since I was enlisted to kill you, I only hope you realize that.”

There was no remorse in his eyes as he pulled the wickedly curved knife from it’s sheath and a sadistic smile curled on his face, “Don’t worry Princess, i’ll make sure you have a slow miserable death.”

Despite your sluggish movements, adrenaline had shot in your veins as you realized you were about to die, you had too much to live for still. You needed to see what would come of Eunoia, you needed to make sure Wheein was okay, that you would keep your promise to Jungkook.

You couldn’t die, and you would fight if it meant living to see it.

Your mind was slowly coming out of it’s haze as Di Jin stepped closer to you, realizing you were in the courtyard near the hay bales, the pile you had cleaned early next to you, your arm reached over to grab one of the planks, three long rusted nails sticking out of it.

You swung it with as much force as you could towards his legs, it made contact, the nail piercing his skin with a wet noise as he cried out in pain, falling back on the ground as he growled out. “You dumb bitch, a pain until the end!”

You attempted to crawl away, heart pounding in your ears as you scurried but he was still too mobile, yanking the plank out of his leg with a growl of pain as he managed to get on top of you, you caught his wrists as he attempted to plunge the knife in your throat, “I’ll enjoy watching the life leave your eyes. I’ll be sure to bring your head back for your little husband to see one last time.”

Your strength was already failing as you winced out, the knife slowly coming closer to your skin as you whimpered out as it pierced the first layer of your flesh.

It was an indescrible pain that had you yelping in pain,

“I’ll make these last few moments the most excruciating and perhaps if you beg me enough, I might just end your pathetic little life girl,” Di Jin grinned leaning in closer, “Maybe if you beg me more i’ll give you a little more than just a long death.”

He pushed the knife a little deeper as blood spilled from your skin making you cry out, his body weighing heavier on yours and his lips suddenly pressing to your ear, “Something tells me you’d prefer that over this.”

Something about his lips pressing against your skin lit something primal inside of you, every sense heightened inside you as your lips parted taking a wide bite into his neck, you could taste it first, the metallic flavor of blood running across your tongue and dripping down your throat and then his skin was next, uncomfortably soft and tender and next was the cartilage, it was rubbery and had hard bits in it, next was the sensation of something warm and wet against your face.

Di Jin could no longer properly speak, his grip suddenly loosened on the knife as you yanked the large chunk of flesh straight from his neck, grabbing the knife as you yanked it away shoving him down as you managed to get on top of him.

The chunk missing from his neck was ghastly, blood pooling on the ground, oozing everywhere and squirting from various places and he was gagging loudly, choking on his own blood.

Anger trembled in your body, it wasn’t enough, even with chunks of flesh missing and blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible it still wasn’t enough, before you could even think you plunged the knife into his neck, eyes blurring as you watched him gurgle, choking on his own blood as the life left his eyes.

Your hands were shaking as you waited for him to jump back to life to kill you, and then you slowly realized your vision was blurred from tears, your heart pounding as you took a shaky breath yanking the knife out of his neck before you let out blood curdling scream slamming it back in his neck again.

Jungkook’s betrayal.

Wheein being taken.

Exiled from your own kingdom.

Being forced to wed.

Made into a healer as a child.

Bone.

Blood.

Ash.

The mourning bells rang in your head and you could vividly taste the metallic on your tongue stronger than ever as the taste of raw flesh lingered in your throat.

Blood splattered upward as you stabbed the spot over again, all of the rage searing in your veins as Di Jin’s form became disfigured, his neck nearly separating his head from his body as you shoved the knife in deeper.

Hearing the wet gurgling noise as you heaved a breath, staring at his cold dead eyes staring back at you, the next scream was not your own, but it came closer within seconds before the door to the estate opened.

Seohyun was heavily bleeding from her left thigh, sporting a large bite as a loud snarl came from inside the door, shakily you stood up, “Fenrir, wait.”

The large wolf paused, and that's when you noticed the large gash on his leg, causing him to limp, rage quelled in your veins again as you limped over, Seohyun looked pale a ghost at the sight of you.

From the moment this woman met you, she had given you nothing but grief, attempted to humiliate you, belittle you, try to win a lost battle, attempt to kill you, and now she had hurt your precious companion.

Even with a mangled body behind you, it still wasn’t enough.

Tripping over her own two feet she fell down as you walked over, “We can talk about this Y/n!” Her eyes were as big as saucers, “Please! I’ll leave Penumbra and- and never come back.”

You felt nothing for her as you stood above her, watching pathetic tears drip down her face for a long moment, finally you knelt down, “If Penumbra has taught me anything Seohyun, It’s that some people do not deserve my forgiveness, nor my kindness.”

Her lips parted rapidly, her throat scratchy, and for the first time, you saw genuine fear in her eyes, “B-but you’re a Eunoian,”

Her words were pointed, bargaining, pleading even- if you listened close enough, “Eunoian’s don’t kill.”

Your lips slowly lifted into a joyless smile as you let out an uneasy laugh, “Well,” Your smile dropped, your hands were still shaky, unbridled rage still taunt in your veins.

The primal urge of need to prove her wrong, prove all of them wrong, that you would never again be looked down upon as weak or underestimated.

Your hand grabbed her neck, causing her to let out a choked sob as you squeezed it tight enough to choke her airway, yanking her nearly nose to nose with you.

“We’re not in Eunoia, are we?” Your nails dug into her neck, not stopping until you felt the blood from her skin oozing, you shoved her back before you stood up, ignoring her blubbering, tears trickling down her face as you walked away, “Fenrir.”

“Please!”

He let out a growl, “Attack.”

Her cries of agony were left of deaf ears as you walked back over to the corpse of Di Jin grabbing the knife from his neck and yanking it out before taking the sheath that went with it, adjusting it on your waist.

Collapsing on the ground away from him you noticed your hands for the first time, shaking, trembling as your vision blurred once more, scarred and covered in blood, just what had you done?

Fenrir’s mouth was covered in blood, but the whine didn’t escape your ears as he tenderly tried to sit down in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You ushered, grief strong in your voice though uncertain of who it was for, yourself, your country, your companion, you reached out for him, gently rubbing your hand down his neck, “But we have a long journey ahead of us Fenrir.”

The bells were ringing and a somber air had taken over, Jungkook had nearly lost his entire wits, his father had banished him from the room, not wanting to hear another word from him about this.

Being told he was too sentimental fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, it was his friend, it was injustice, it was corrupt. He hated it, he hated that despite being the crowned prince, his son, his father simply didn’t care.

All Jungkook could do was wait for Jimin to unlock this damn box. But it felt as though it was too late, he was banned from so much as leaving his room, guards at his door there to keep him boxed in but this wouldn’t stop him.

pulling the cloak over his head, he opened the window, the bricks were jagged and uneven enough that he could easily climb down, he did it often when he was younger, much to the blindness of his father.

Scaling the wall, Jungkook got down, feet planted firmly on the ground as he kept the hood over his head tight as he made his way to the courtyard. A crowd had gathered, all wanting to witness the supposed assassin.

Nobody paid mind to him with his identity concealed, it would be soon now. If he couldn’t get evidence to get Wheein out, then Jungkook would take matters into his own hand. He didn’t want to have Wheein leave Penumbra, but if this is what it took to keep her safe until her innocence was proven, this is what he would do.

He owed so much of his existence to her, he couldn’t let this happen.

He wasn’t going to let this happen.

The bells stopped as Dae Seong stood up from his throne on the wooden stage they had set up, “We have all gathered here to see the execution of the assassin who tried to kill our crowned princess! Her very own handmaid, this is the killer, our own flesh and blood, and the punishment for a traitorous woman is fitting, burning of the steak!”

Wheein was brought out, her hands tied behind her back, her eyes had dark circles and she was crying as she shook her head, “Please! I would never do that to Penumbra! To Y/n! Please you have to believe me!”

But her cries were in vein as the crowd boo’d her, all shouting vile words her way as they dragged her down to the large wooden steak pyre that had been set up.

Jungkook shifted in his spot as he watched them begin to tie her up.

“Are there any last words you would like to impart to us traitor?” Dae Seong looked at her with pure disgust.

Wheein’s lips quivered as she parted them.

A loud bloodcurdling scream interrupted her before she could speak, the crowd tensed and everyone seemed alert, Jungkook was towards the front, having intended on getting her off there the right moment, but he quickly turned around to see people quickly departing and creating a path.

And the next thing he saw was hardly comprehensible.

You, covered in blood, your face was a horrific sight with it’s dried crimson color covering your mouth all the way down your neck, but what was even more horrifying was what was next to you, Fenrir limping beside you, a corpse held in his mouth.

Women screamed and men gasped in horror as they all moved.

The looks on the royals faces were indescribable, Dae Seong most of all, “What is the meaning of this?”

You stopped in front of the throne, Fenrir as if knowing this was the destination, dropped the body from his jaws, it smacked the ground with a wet echo, the head finally detaching from the body as it rolled towards Dae Seong.

You don’t think you had ever seen an expression quite like what Dae Seong had, and you were sure this would be the only time.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally spoke, your throat raw and scratchy, “That’s your assassin, he tried to kill me again just hours ago.”

Dae Seong’s look of shock slowly twisted into one of rage, “Where is your proof of this!” He stood up from his throne towering over you with a growl, “What does a girl like you have meddling in business you don’t understand and taking the lives of those who were helping!”

“Am I standing in front of you not proof enough?” You snarled back, “From the moment I have come to this kingdom I have been nothing but disrespected, disregarded, used, and seen as nothing more than a tool to further someone’s agenda. And i’m sick of it.”

“Even when it comes to my own life, you stand in front of me questioning it!”

“Why I ought too!-”

“I have it!” A voice cried out, Jimin was running from the side entrance of the courtyard, a notebook in his hand as he panted, his eyes widening when they set on you, ‘Y/n!? Are you okay? I have it, I have proof that Di Jin was the assassin! Here, your majesty.”

Dae Seong snatched it with a certain level of venom as he looked through the book, but slowly as his eyes read through, an unreadable look took over his face.

Exhaustion began to take over, your body beginning to sway.

Dae Seong closed the book with a sense of finality, “Very well,” He aid with gritted teeth, anger still simmering in his eyes, “Perhaps, you do have the grit to survive here princess.”

You didn’t hear his words though, your gaze had went down to the body of Di Jin, and swaying backwards you collapsed into an abyss of darkness, nothing more then multiple people calling your name.

[maudeeloise]

Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

[fan-goddess]

Helloooo love! I'm a fan lurking in the dark with a request idea for Aemond x Reader. Would love to see your take on Aemond trying to win Reader back (his wife) after she found out about Alys. Maybe this happens after the "Dance" , Aemond survives and they have to deal with the aftermath of Alys. Reader loved him with everything she had so she feels betrayed and turns cold to him and maybe because of Alys, something also happened to her (idk lost pregnancy perhaps but PLEASE exclude this if you don't feel comfortable writing it). Basically take everything you find interesting from this request and work your magic - I trust you like no other!!! Thank you I send you all the love there is - you are very very talented and please know there are many like me that think you are truly brilliant, I know it!!! :*:*

Authors Note: Oh my god thank you this is so freakin sweet! 🥺 I’m happy to take the request and spin my take on this, hope you enjoy it! :)

Also, some of the stuff Is made up like the time between Daemons death and end of the war. I don’t know it so I made it up. If you don’t like it take it up with my dms

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cheating, miscarriage though it’s not explicit, she’s kinda depressed? Not sure how to describe it,

Taglist: @blue-serendipity

The Sequels: The Depressive one, The happy One

—————

If Aemond ever regretting not killing anyone throughout the war he technically started, most would’ve immediately assumed that he wished he never killed his nephew. Though they were wrong. Yes, Lucerys’ death became one of the many causes of the war and in turn deaths of so many people, but his death didn’t result in the loss of you and your child.

Alys’ death could’ve though.

When he first met Alys, he had been nearly immediately enraptured and enamoured by had. She was quite different to you. While you had always been headstrong and never afraid to tell Aemond what he needed to do or to be, Alys had been more docile and had no issue in telling Aemond all the things he wanted to hear.

He regretted the first time he laid with Alys in his bed. Though that regret went away the more time he spent with her and the more times he laid with her. He begun to think of possibly taking after Aegon the conqueror, thinking he’d have both you and Alys by his side when Aegon most likely drank himself to death.

That fantasy was soon ruined when he got that letter.

Dear Aemond,

Do you think of me as a fool? I know about that fucking woman Aemond. I know about Alys. I don’t know why you have decided to betray our marriage and honestly, I don’t think care I can bring myself to think about it nor care anymore. This letter was originally going to be happy. A letter letting you know what we prayed near everyday from the seven had finally come true and been answered. I was with child. Our child made purely of what I had thought was love. Though that changed when I was informed of what you had done. I mourned for what we could’ve had. I cried and refused to believe it at first, though soon I came to my senses. Yet it was too late. Our child is dead Aemond. I woke up a few days ago to heavy blood staining our bedsheets. The child was barely two months according to the maester. I wish for you to know it is your fault Aemond. I do not wish to ever see you again. I wish to never hear from you so if you attempt to reconcile or send a letter I will pay for our child’s blood with your own. You have dug your grave Aemond. Don’t try and dig it deeper. If you are to die in battle, I hope it is painful. I hope you suffer like I have.

From, your wife

From your former wife

Aemond had felt his heart plummet to the floor when he read that letter. He could not stop the tears that fell to the floor and stained the letter he still was holding. The ink blotting and staining the page so much the words were becoming near illegible.

He attempted to head into battle with the faint hope that you’d forgive him if he killed his uncle. Though even he knew deep down that no amount of deaths could fix anything. Yet even still he tried. He defeated Daemon, with blood of which Targaryen man he did not know staining and pooling on his ripped armour.

Aemond came home where he was met with his mother and brother, who both congratulated him on his victory. Though even with their congrats he could see the disgust that lingered in his mothers gaze as she looked at him. It made his shame all that more prominent.

He would’ve gone to see you, but Aegon stopped him before he could, claiming he was holding a feast in his name for the defeat of Daemon. He tried to look for you in the amount of people that came, yet he couldn’t. And he didn’t dare ask his mother if you would be coming in fear of her glare and disappointment.

That night he wonders something. Maybe it would’ve been better if he did die by the hand of his uncle? Then it would’ve saved him from all this torture. Though he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Aemond can only wallow in his drinks that he keeps being given and his own sorrow.

Aemond was back home. The words the maids said echoed in your head. He’s here, and no doubt going to attempt to reconcile. If there was one thing you ever learnt about your husband, was that he never quit at anything he started.

You already made bets with yourself on how he’d attempt to do it.

Maybe he’ll try flowers? No that’s too much of a common move for Aemond to pull… Maybe he’ll bring you some jewellery? No that’d make him feel like he was buying for your forgiveness. Like he was buying something for a mistress. Well… he’s been there and done that…

There is always the chance Aemond will not even attempt to reconcile. Hopefully becoming too overcome by the grief and pain of the loss of his and your child that he’d respect your wishes after reading your own pain on paper. The maids still look at you worriedly, especially when they find you sitting near the window. You know why they worry, you mourned Helaena and Jahaerys and you know you will not become like her.

Aegon was also the one who told you about Alys, and when you lost your child and screamed for the whole of the castle to hear, it was Aegon who ran to you to mourn with you and hold you while you cried for a life you may have been able to have. He held you in the way a brother would hold a sister. He even cried with you and helped clean you of the blood. Oh the blood…

———

It’s been a few long months, but the war between the greens and the blacks is finally over. Aegon is celebrating by holding a massive banquet and all the lord and ladies who supported him are invited. Even though Aemond knows it will not happen, he secretly hopes you will come to celebrate.

Though as he keeps sneaking glances at the door all night he eventually comes to term with the fact you’re not coming. He can only swallow more bitter wine and ignore the fact he’s drinking it like a fish in water now.

He’s attempted to reconcile from a distance ever since the incident but everything he has sent to your chambers has come back in shreds. The flowers from the garden you loved to look after, heads torn from their stems and cut into a thousand pieces. The books he sent on your favourite topic, you had more restraint on them and simply chucked them from your window onto unsuspecting bystanders bellow.

Aegon told him delightfully how after he delivered the books to you, they were seen immediately thrown from the window and one had supposedly managed to hit one knight straight on the head, effectively knocking him out cold.

Though if anything those small acts of defiance made Aemond wish to reunite and return to you even more. It reminded him just why he fell in love with you in the first place. Your wit and your wisdom made him fall head over heals for you, literally.

He had tripped in front of you and some other ladies of the court due to the load of books he was carrying. He had not yet gotten used to the visual impairments the loss of his eye provided and did not see the thrown goblet in his path. Aemond had effectively turned scarlet when the ladies began to mockingly giggle at him, it nearly made his heart beat straight from his chest when he saw you come to his help. “You need to get some help with those. It’s not that bad to ask for help you know? Means you aren’t a stubborn twat.” You grin.

He wished he could go back to those days. They were simpler. They held no knowledge of the war they would face. It held no knowledge of the bastard from Harrenhal.

Aemond had not tried to reunite with you in person. He knew you’d most definitely follow through with your threat and spill his blood. It’s why he attempted to send you items instead through the maids. Though it’s very obvious those weren’t working either. That’s when he got the idea to write you letters. There was easily a chance that you would burn them or tear them the moment you saw the writing. Yet even then Aemond knew he had to try…

———

“Princess. I have another item sent from the prince for you.” One of the maids said as she carefully approached your bed. The sun had already hit its peak that day, though you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. The only time you could bring yourself too was either with the help of your maids, or when Aemond sent a supposed gift to you which you’d immediately destroy.

“What is it this time?” You sigh. “Is it something that I am supposed to eat? Because if it is i’d like it if you took to the servants quarters and give it to them and not-“

“It’s not food related my princess. It’s a letter.” When you look towards the maid you can see the sad expression clear on her face. This maid has brought you many of Aemonds attempts at reconciliation.

“What is your name?” It does not give you any sort of pleasure when the maid looks shocked at the fact a princess is asking for the name of a maid. “Its not a trick question I want to know your name.”

“Klarisa my princess. My name is Klarissa.”

“Klarisa do you think I should read the letter my bastard of a husband as written to me?” You look carefully at Klarisas face, the decision of your lifetime hanging in a mere maids hands.

“To be honest with you my lady…” Klarisa takes a deep breath and puts on a sympathetic face. You appreciate that she wishes to give you honesty, though that sympathetic face makes you want to punch her. “What the prince did was inexcusable after the way the two of you acted before… her. You got to have a husband who loves you and cared for you, that itself is much more than most of the women who are forced into a marriage can hope for. The prince is trying to make up for it and is also respective your boundaries. Not many could say that they got to have a husband who did even one of those things. So yes my princess, I believe you should read the letter.” You take a deep breathe and loosen your hands, which seemed to have clenched so tightly your nails all but pierce into your palms.

“Give me the letter then leave. If you see the prince, do not tell him that you for once got me to think about even looking at his weak apologies. Just put your head down, and walk away. Do you understand Klarisa?”

“Yes my princess.” Klarisa moves swiftly to the doors to your chambers, opening it and moving forward, only to stop for a moment and turn on her heels towards to. “I hope you get what it is you seek my princess. For your own sake.” She turns back to the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone with the letter in your hand which already feels like it’s burning you. Yet you prevail, and slowly open the letter to read it.

Dear ñuha jorrāelagon,

I will not waste my breath in attempting to gain your forgiveness. I know better than anyone that when you stick your mind to something you keep it that way. Though what I will say is the truth, which I know will hurt you and anger you more than anything but i know it’s what you wish to hear.

Alys was a woman I believed to be falling in love with. She was something what I believed I needed in my life. A woman to be docile and to whisper all the things I needed to hear in my ear. Though after your letter, it became my wake up. I cut off all contact with Alys after realising how much I hurt you. I regret that woman everyday I have not been with you. You are the only woman I need to be with. I love that you are not docile and will not take any man’s shit (as you so clearly and often tended to put it). I love that you challenge me and encourage the debates we so often hold. I love you Rhaella, more than any woman before in my life. I’m sorry it took another woman and the life of our child for me to realise it. I understand wholeheartedly if you wish to never speak to me again. But I hope with this letter, if you ever do decide to read this, which after all my other attempts seem unlikely, you at least know that there will not be a single day that I do not wish that I did not kill that woman when I killed all the other strongs. You are my life. My world. And I hope you know that.

From, Aemond Targaryen

You’ve never felt like you wanted to cry this much since you lost your sweet baby. You can feel the tears leaking down your face the entire time you read Aemonds words. Some of your tears drip onto the page, leaving some of the words to blur together into illegible blobs of black ink.

You feel the urge to destroy the letter. The same urge and desire you felt when you got into contact with all of Aemonds other gifts. Though you resist this time, and instead of destroying the letter, you smooth it out and place it delicately under the mass amounts of pillows that seem to always near take over your bed. That night, for the first night of the many you’d stayed in your room during your isolation period, you slept the whole night in your bed with no nightmares to wake you screaming.

———

When Aemond was standing in the corridor in the shadows and hadn’t picked up on any whispers from the maids passing him of any destruction or damage coming from your chambers, he assumed you must have kept the letter.

He does not hold though any hope that you read it. For all he knows you’ve simply just ignored it or ripped it and used it to keep your fire alight.

When he is waiting for the maid to come out of your room though, he could not help but feel hopeful when the maid takes longer than usual to come out of your room. “Well?” He asks as he steps from the shadows when the maid eventually comes out and nearly passes him. He does not dare to actually ask whether or not you took it. Even though he so selfishly wish to help hold her down and demand for

It surprises him and angers him when the maid looks at him and yet does not acknowledge him. What did you tell her? What does she know?

Aemond grabs the arm of the maid as she attempts to pass him without any real acknowledgment. “Your prince asked you a question.” He growls. He nearly felt sympathy for the woman when she looked at him with fear in her eyes. But he is not Aegon. He can control his desires towards the maids.

“The princess asked that I not speak to you. Please let go of my arm, my prince…” The maid half begs. Aemond lets go of her arm reluctantly after a moment of thinking. Why would you tell the maid to not talk to him? Maybe you really read the letter and do not wish to appear weak to him? Though only if you knew that you could never be weak in his eyes, his strong independent wife.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How does Minotaur!Konig handle an argument with his wife/his wife being upset with him? He clearly avoids making her upset as much as possible because he loves her and only wants to see her happy, and she loves and accepts him as he is, quirks and all so I don't really see them getting into fights but maybe he gets way too reactive and violent with someone in town over a perceived slight and she gives him the silent treatment on the way home or something. I feel like he'd be so sad even if she only didn't talk to him for like an hour 😞 I can also see his insecurities/abandonment issues coming into play, he starts overthinking and makes it a whole big thing in his head and meanwhile she's already forgetting that she was even upset with him. These are just my thoughts but maybe you have something else in mind/see it playing out differently!

Yes absolutely!!

Minotaur!König cannot cope with this shit at all. The last time he did something “bad” ended in him being thrown into a cold, dark Labyrinth. Even as a grown man he goes straight into survival mode if he sees that he has somehow disappointed his beloved 💔

His wife knows how König is so it would take a lot for her to visibly show she’s upset with him. Our bull tries to avoid chaos as best he can which means arguments between these two are extremely rare — but they do happen! Because one thing you must know about all versions of König is that they think they’re always right. Minotaur!König is just as thick headed as the rest of them so if he thinks that “his cause is just” then he will stand his ground no matter what. He will claim that water is wine if he thinks it’s so!

Some petty perceived insult directed at his wife could get him riled very easily, could get them both into trouble because König won't cool down before he’s drawn blood. He wants to give this poor soul's head to his wife, on a plate if possible, and if he can’t do that the tension just won’t go away. How can life go on if he hasn’t done what’s right??

She has to guide König in social situations and explain later what it was all about, what different phrases mean and how he can’t just kill people if they don’t behave the way he wants them to. In some ways, she knows she is dealing with a child and has to be patient, how could this poor man know how to behave when he lived underground all those years? All he was taught was that he’s evil, unwanted and ugly, so the last thing she wants to do is hurl blame at him and scream. Silent treatment would totally be one of her ways to show him he didn’t get points home this time, but for König even the tiniest distancing looks like she’s abandoning him. Throwing him mentally into a tiny tiny Labyrinth, telling him he’s not wanted, that he’ll never be loved :(

And poor König doesn’t know what to do and how to be, for a while the anxiety threatens to take over. He reaches for her hand, then pulls away fearing she doesn’t want to be touched. He tries to talk, but nothing comes out because he doesn’t entirely understand what he should apologise for. He stands in the middle of the room and watches her blow air on the coals and just go on about her day, thinking that the time has finally come when she tells him to get out of the house.

It takes years before König takes the initiative in reconciling because he simply doesn’t know how to do it. Blunt, pained statements such as “Are you upset with me,” and “You’re disappointed in me” are common before he learns that the world is not going to end even if they’re not happy with each other all the time. His wife is usually the one who comes to him and says that everything is okay and that she was only upset with what he did, not with who he is.

Just imagine this adorable goof being both stubborn in his "I don’t have to say I’m sorry" policy and crippled by his "Are you going to abandon me" fear 💔 How can you even be angry at this man? There’s no chance, especially when he’s a jerk only once or twice a year 🩷🦬

[theelastword]

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

So I’ve been seeing a lot of people talk about how big of a mistake Aziraphale made in the finale and how badly they feel for Crowley (instead of feeling bad for BOTH of them). And honestly? I don’t understand the perspective that Crowley getting his heart broken in episode 6 has to mean that Aziraphale was totally naive and wrong and that it’ll take Crowley a lot of time to forgive him, or that Aziraphale’s ending in season 2 wasn’t just as heartbreaking as Crowley’s.

Think about everything we know about Aziraphale, who has never once been power-hungry and— following season 1— no longer cares what Heaven thinks (he even told the Metratron that he didn’t want to go back to Heaven when first approached). Aziraphale only left because he sees angels like Muriel, who definitively have good in them despite everything, or even Gabriel who somehow figured out how to fall in love and find something that mattered more to him than the supposed ‘morality’ of Heaven. Aziraphale sees that spark, that potential of Heaven to be turned into what it should have always been, and he thinks that he can do it because he’s seen proof of angels who can get away from Heaven’s influence, a list that includes himself.

Not to mention THAT look he gave Metatron after he brought up the Second Coming, a look that (at least from where I’m sitting) was a definite steeling of nerves and his own way of saying “Okay, time to take this thing down from the inside”. He was NOT saying that Crowley should reform himself for Heaven, or even that they should go back because he missed Heaven. He was asking Crowley to go with him because he loves him and wants him by his side— and because he knows that Crowley has experience in being there for angels who slowly deviate from Heaven.

Aziraphale wants what he’s always wanted— to keep helping everyone he possibly can, without stopping to do what he really wants and just stay in his beloved bookshop with the love of his life. Because he never prioritizes what it is he wants when he could be helping others instead. That’s just who he is, which is what makes him so selfless and wonderful but also so sad in that he never just…lets himself be happy. And the Crowley that we all know would never hate or have lingering fury toward him for that. What Aziraphale is doing, although heartbreaking to people like me who just want the Husbands to have their little cottage in the South Downs, is actually really brave, AND just as worthy of the sympathy and heartbreak that many fans are feeling for Crowley.

EDIT: Also, as sad/problematic it may be to abandon your life and partner, it’s just as problematic to turn a blind eye to the oppression and injustice of Heaven that, by all means, you have the ability and voice to try to do something about in pursuit of prioritizing what you want. So if we’re going to be mad at Aziraphale, we have to be mad at Crowley, too (and I’ll be disappointed if hypothetical-season-3 paints the narrative that Aziraphale is the only one in the wrong here). Personally, I’m all for not being mad at anybody. I completely understand both of their choices, and I just want them to reconcile and be compassionate to what the other is going through.

[celluloidbroomcloset]

The more I think about it, the more heartbreaking the line: "I forgive you, by the way. For sleeping with Doug."

First, Stede doesn't talk about sex. He's angered by Calico Jack's questions and insinuations, and he's very clear that "Ed's past is Ed's business." He seems to have zero issues with his crew doing whatever they like with whomever they like, but it's clear he's not participating or particularly talking about it with anyone. We know his married life is loveless, and that he's a closeted gay man who's in love with another man for the first time ever, so sex is a difficult topic for him.

And the one time he explicitly mentions sex, to his wife, is to drunkenly and resentfully forgive her for sleeping with another man. It's harsh, and not just because he's drunk—he emphasizes it. He breaks the statement into two sentences, so that she's very clear what he's forgiving her for. She even seems shocked by it—this isn't something he does. From what we see of their married life he's oblivious and distant and awkward, but he's not cruel.

The whole sequence from the art opening onward is juxtaposed against the Ed and Izzy scene where Izzy bullies Ed back into becoming Blackbeard and eventually the Kraken. So this sequence is Stede's "Kraken" moment, as the scene escalates from the embarrassing meanness at the art opening to the cruelty in private.

But Stede lives in a different world than Ed, and his society is shaped by "cutting remarks." Where pirate violence is physical, Stede's is mostly verbal. He knows how to use language against people; it has been done to him, and we see him do it to the French ship, to Izzy, and to Chauncey. He’s very emotionally attuned and he’s adept at getting the knife in when he wants to. He uses it carefully, though, usually in defense either of himself or someone he loves. But if he were to become a bully, he’d be horrific.

We never see Stede being deliberately vicious to someone who doesn’t deserve it, and he's being deliberately vicious to Mary, a woman as thoroughly trapped in that marriage as he is (even more so, because she has very limited options for escape). What we know, which Mary doesn't yet, is that his viciousness is coming from the ache of what he left behind.

Stede was able to try to reconcile his return as "doing his duty" for his family, and what he finds is that his family have moved on. Not only that, but the wife whom he was at least imprisoned with, who at least shared in some degree his discomfort and unhappiness and was obliged to make it work with him as far as they both could, has found the love and pleasure that he's denying himself. He's isolated in a way he wasn't before. He wants to isolate her again so that at least he still has some kind of companionship, even if it's just in suffering.

Mary's fears are clear. If Stede decides that she can’t be with Doug, he has a LOT of power to stop her. He’s a wealthy male landowner; he legally owns her and the children. He can ruin Doug and he can make her life hell. He legally and culturally has a lot of control over her sexuality. I don’t think for one minute that Mary ever feared Stede their entire life and she fears him now.

It is cruel, and it's not Mary's fault. Nor is this who Stede is, or who he wants to be, though it's clearly a sign of who he can become. Again, like the scene at the art gallery, the scene between them is important to develop how repression and self-loathing can warp a person, even someone as genuinely kind as Stede. He is so desperate to “do the right thing” that he’s twisting himself up into the very kind of man who has hurt him. And beneath it is the longing for Ed and the love and passion that he’s denied himself.

That this all pushes toward a breaking point where Stede and Mary are finally able to understand each other, and Stede is finally able to say that he's gay and he's in love with Ed, makes that moment much more powerful. Mary was perfectly ready to hate him and at least save herself, but she helps him find the words to express who he is and what he feels, and who he wants.

The poison turns into positivity.

[seaadc]

Hihiii, I have a request! I hope thats alright? I just finish your Zhongli x Adeptus!reader migraine, and I fell inlove with it! its kinda like me in someway, I used to be huge simp for Zhongli, well until the Fotaine update, somehow I didnt simp like I used to for Zhongli, my attention quickly shift to Neuvillette!(I guess I have a thing for dragons-) anyways sorry for rambling!

My request would be like the same idea as the Migraine Zhongli x Adeptus!reader? change childe for Neuvillette, I heard Neuvillette is going to be in the lantern rite! that would a perfect place! sorry sorry if I didnt make sense, english isnt my first language.

you meet him again, the one who had shattered your heart. | zhongli

ANGST, no pronouns used, cocky neuvi, guizhong x morax, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

a/n: IDKWHY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG LMAOAXOAO slow writer here!! (bc i want it to b perfect smh..)

not proofread !!

no. really— no.

you didn’t expect he would be here, well, which was pretty stupid. of course he’d be there. he lives in liyue after all. it’s plain common sense.

but it seems as if you were just clinging to lost hope, a hope that says you dont wanna see him there, interact with him, anything else just not him in it.

morax, the god of contract. the god you once loved, but never loved you the same way as you did. it was obvious who he had in his mind and heart, it was guizhong. i mean— who wouldnt, really?

guizhong was pretty, smart, courteous, firm, everything morax wanted in a person. it was hard to hate her, it was more easy liking her.

yet, why was it so hard for you? why was it so hard to like guizhong?

everyone else did, so why didn’t you? is it because of how envious you were of her, is it because you were jealous that she had morax wrapped around her little finger, is it because you wished to be her?

you didn’t know. how would you? when you solely focused on morax. you didn’t have time for yourself. you didn’t realize you were hurting, you were in agony.

no one noticed, not even you, not even morax. why would he notice? when all his attention was all guizhong’s.

maybe that’s why you were a bit overjoyed, when you had heard she had been killed. well, you heard from a rumor.

you had left them, for good. to be put simply, you left morax. you bid your farewells to xiao, as he was the only accomplice you have enjoyed their company with. no one else.

i guess you could say you enjoyed morax’s company, well, not so much. guizhong was always with you both. there was never a chance you two were alone.

it’s rude of you to be happy at the news of her “dead”. it’s offensive and disrespectful to the god of dust. but, you really didn’t care. was it of envy? you don’t know.

it was the first lantern rite you have attended again, after so many years of avoiding liyue and residing in somewhere far away, which was fontaine. it was great, meeting many people and friends that were generous and kind enough to talk to you.

so seeing him again in present time, both your eyes locked with eachother, gazing at one another, it feels as if time had stopped.

you both were together once more, reunited by fate, was it to attempt to reconcile your differences?

it was always him and you. side by side, fighting with other mobs, gods, and other things.

but did he, for once, fight for your heart?

he did. but not for you, for guizhong. he fought alongside her when you weren’t there, were you just a second option? maybe you were. maybe you are.

neuvilette says you aren’t. he, word for word, promised that he wouldn’t be like your first love. so let him be the love that you need, let him be the one that you cherish, and you did.

so going to lantern rite with him, it was his wish when both of you had gotten together. you couldn’t say no to a pretty face.

i guess for neuvilette, meeting another dragon would be unpleasant. yes, it might sound possessive, but if you look on it at the good side (his side), it may not be so wrong.

especially because that dragon was once your first love. your first ever greatest. so he had all the reasons to get jealous!

zhongli looks devastated as he sees/smells another dragon scent on you, your aura illuminating a blue and white one. it wasn’t yellow and orange anymore. was morax replaced?

who is he to ask? someone who had left you, replaced and almost forgotten about you. so why bother asking if you still love him?

neuvilette wraps an arm around your waist from behind, your aura brightens as morax could only narrow his eyes. he wishes he was the cause of your aura changing and glistening. him and neuvilette had maintained eye contact, as if arguing firmly in their minds.

only they could see scents after all.

so, as cocky as neuvilette can be, he kissed you on the cheek as zhongli’s eyes wrinkled in envy.

“let’s go somewhere else.” neuvilette whispered, and you nodded.

and zhongli saw that faint little smirk on neuvilette’s lips when he saw his reaction. it’s making him pissed. why is he acting like this anyway? it’s because he only realized now that he loves you. not guizhong.

zhongli feels this inkling pain deep in his heart, it’s wrong. it hurts him so much, he feels so sorry for treating you the way you don’t deserve to be treated.

but it’s too late.

only in his dreams, you are his. but i guess he just woke up from his everlasting dream.

and he feels as if he won’t be getting that marvelous dream once more.

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only!

[cheesit-notes]

Simon Riley + Hand Kisses

tags: kissing obviously, ptsd for simon basically, gn!reader, overthinking simon, simon getting violent at one point, a/n: sorry i was gone for a week! i want to say i worked on stuff but ive been busy with things and this was the only thing i did. im not all that happy with the time to result ratio of this tbh but i love the idea of Simonand hand kisses so enjoy!

Ghost who cannot stand any and all kinds of intimate touches. he doesn’t like intimate touches. no, actually, he loathes those touches. it reminds him of a time he’d really rather forget. there’s no way to really kiss him without having to slowly practice. underneath the mask, he’s nothing more than the emotionally scarred, vulnerable Simon Riley who went through far too much for any human.

the first time both of you technically kissed, you had asked if you could kiss him, he said yes because you looked like you wanted it so badly. the two of you stood awkwardly in his barracks. he’s wondering if he should’ve changed clothes earlier, he just got back and was still in his uniform, probably smelled fowl, but you didn’t say a word. ah, he thought he could handle it. he really did. but to kiss was a lot easier said than done. and he’ll never fully forgive himself for shoving you away slamming you against the wall, and he was choking you. he didn’t actually hit you, you tell him that everyday, but the fact he fully intended to hit you for the moment scared him. plagued with the thought that he truly was no different from his father; he could barely look at you for the weeks following that, much less talk to you. no, he refused to do so much as to stand near you; petrified he wouldn’t snap out of it in time, terrified he’d hurt you.

months later, he asked if it’s alright to try again. the kissing thing, you know? it was months after the previous attempt, you and Simon had already reconciled, as much as possible anyways, so the question left you a little confused. you were happy to, but only if he was really ready. and he said he was, he swore it. although.. looking at you, thinking back about the previous attempt, made him anxious. but he already said he would. so he should? he should stick to his words, right? youd probably think hes a coward. god, a man shouldnt be a coward. and he cant be a coward. and all these thoughts ran through his mind. he doesnt realize he’s zoned out and that you’re staring at him with a concerned look on your face. its not until you decide to speak does he snap back.

“are you sure you want to do this?”

he’s not even sure what to respond. what did he want?  he’s only really thought about what you wanted. it’s not like his wants really mattered in his eyes.

“you know, we don’t have to do this. we can still have a perfectly fine relationship without–”

“no! absolutely, no, we.. we have to kiss.”

he insisted, almost yelling like he’s afraid he wouldn’t be heard. and that you’d leave him because you’d think he couldn’t kiss you, because he couldn't give you of a normal relationship. and you deserved it. you deserved a normal relationship with someone who could give you what you wanted. and god, he wishes he were normal.

anyone could tell he was agitated. honestly, it isn’t easy for you. you could tell he wouldn’t handle it well if you kissed him directly. but if you didn’t then he’d isolate himself, thoughts spiralling like a roller coaster in his mind, and you couldn’t be sure when or where the ride ended. so, grab his hands, hold them in yours, and plant a gentle kiss on each. you hold his hands, looking into his eyes, and for what felt like hours, the two of you stayed put like that. until Simon told you to leave.

it caught you off guard, you’re a little taken back. but respecting his wishes, you leave the room. not even a minute after you leave, Simon slumps against the wall, he can’t stop the hot, burning tears from falling. maybe it was how soft your lips felt against his caloused hands or how careful you were with him, how you knew that he likely wouldn’t react well to either choice and yet you made the perfect one.

Simon Riley who sometimes holds your hand, silently hoping you’d kiss his hand again. he likes it when you give each knuckle a peck. if you bent down on one knee, you’d look like a knight kissing the princess’ hand, and Johnny would say this whenever he saw the chance. Simon Riley who still isn’t ready to kiss you directly, but he’s slowly working on it. Simon Riley who will probably learn to like different types of kisses, but right now, he's smitten over you and your hand kisses that make him feel oh so loved.

next time he holds your hand, give him a kiss, will you?

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (II)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,911

CW: violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen ( can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N thank you soo much for all the likes on the last post, I hope you all enjoy this one!

laughter filled the Godswood as Aemond chased after Aemma, circling the weirwood tree.

Their friendship was admired around the keep, the girl adored by all. Somehow keeping her sweet nature following her brother’s ‘prank’, though she had become timid, often hiding behind Aemond, and never letting go of his hand.

Aemond adored this, he wanted her to be utterly dependent on him, and she was. She listened to what Aemond said, often refused to do something if Aemond did want her to or was unable to come.

It was why her mother considered a match between them following the birth of her newest brother, Joffrey. Aemond had already demanded he one day become her sworn sword once he had completed his training, and she doubted he would accept Aemma’s marriage to anyone but himself.

“Aemma!” he ran up to her, picking her up and spinning around before they fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

He sighed, turning to his side “My father wishes for me to start attending dragon lessons”.

“Then I shall come also” Aemma declared, grabbing his hand, “then once we have learned we shall claim a dragon together!”

“But Aegon and your brothers will be there” Aemond spoke, trying to deter her.

“so, you don’t want me to come?” she pouted

“of course, but… they’ll be there… and they are nothing but cruel” he insisted “ I do not want them to torment both you and me over having no dragon”.

“But we are Targaryens, so what if we do not have a dragon… we are dragons!” she laughed, “please Aemond, I could not bear to part from you”.

“It will only be for a few hours”

“And what am I to do?” she got up “Wait and sew? No, I shall come!” she demanded

All Aemond could do is sigh in defeat. Though he really he wasn’t sad about it, it was not like he wanted to part from her either.

Her brothers hadn’t expected her to show up. Much to their disappointment, she had kept her distance from her brothers and Aegon for the past year. Truth be told they did not expect the prank to become what it was, to make Aemma cling to Aemond more and more. 

At dinners, she sat between their mother and father, eating as fast as possible, and on the odd occasion their grandsire called for a family dinner she would place herself between Aemond and Helaena. not uttering a word to her brothers or Aegon, running away when they were near.

And yet today she showed up, hand in hand with Aemond.

When they had heard Aemond was to start attending lessons in the dragon pit, Aegon had come up with the idea, the prank. And Jace and Luke being the jealous brothers they were more than happy to pull it.

All three of the boys regretted their prank on her and had made efforts to reconcile, all failing, miserably. And this prank would become not just a prank on Aemond, but a prank on her also seeing as her Aemond were an extension of one another, much like a dragon and its rider. what one felt, the other did too. They could almost read each other’s minds, always knowing what the other was thinking or saying.

“Aemond, we have  a surprise for you.” Aegon announced, as Jace finished with Vermax.

“Do you have one for me too?” she asked, shyly.

Aegon’s eyes softened, it was the first time she had spoken to him in gods know how long and though he would not and admit it , Aegon had grown a soft spot for the brown-haired girl. “No Aemma, but I’m sure you and Aemond could share” the last part caused Luke to giggle before running of to fetch whatever the surprise was.

“What is it?” Aemond asked, grabbing Aemma’s hand tighter and pulling her into him as Aegon wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“Something very special” he winked.

“you two are the only ones without a dragon”. 

“indeed” Aemond nodded.

“And we felt bad about it, so… we found you one, Aemond” Aegon announced.

“Found one? Where?” Aemma asked, excited for Aemond, they had always agreed to share a dragon, should one manage to claim one.

“The gods provided” Aegon stated simply, before Jace and Luke came running forward, a rope in hand…. and a pig attached to it.

“Behold…the pink dread!” they announced, as Aemond and Aemma’s face fell.

"Be sure to mount her carefully, the first flights are always rough" they laughed.

Aemond ran off, Aemma was quick to follow.

“The prince Aemond and princess Aemma” a kings guard announced dragging them into queen Alicent  chambers. 

“Aemond, Aemma?” the  queen questioned. “What did you do?”

“they did it again” Helena spoke.

“After how many times you've been warned, must I have you two confined to your chambers?

“They made me do it” Aemond insisted 

“as if you needed the encouragement” Alicent shakes her head “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“they gave him a pig” Aemma shouted, seeing Aemonds frustration 

“A what?” 

“They said they found a dragon for me… But it was a pig.” he looked down “they said we could share it”. 

“You will have a dragon one day., both off you” Alicent reassured. 

“He'll have to close an eye.” Helaena whispered lowly. 

“I know it”.

“They all laughed… they even made a tail and wings for it!”

Only Aegon received punishment from the prank, her brothers were let off her mother and grandsire deeming it childish fun and teasing, much to Aemma’s disappointment .

She returned to the cold shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge their presence, not that she did that much before.

The rift between the two families grew even further, rivalry between the mothers spreading towards the children. This time not for the throne, but for Aemma.

Aemond was always with her, the only time they did have with Aemond alone, was their swordsman lessons. Lessons which Aemond had begun to take his lessons with Ser Cole seriously, taking on the role of being Aemma’s defender and protector.

“Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.” Criston ordered.

Aemma stood above the training yard, watching beside her grandsire and the hand.

“This is the stuff, Lyonel…. Lads that learn together, train together... knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?” her grandsire spoke, a proud gleam in his voice.

“That is the hope, Your Grace.” Lynol strong agreed, “should the princess be witnessing this, your grace?” he questioned, looking towards her. She had brought a book to read Viserys, though she doubted she could sway his attention away from his sons and grandsons.

“I wish to watch Aemond, lord strong, he had wished to show me his progress” she announced, looking down proudly at Aemond as he swung his sword at the strawman.

“Ahh, let her stay, it is rare I get to see her without her shadow as is” Viserys laughed.

“of course, your grace”

“I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.” She heard Aegon gloat. “My opponent sues for mercy.”

“You'll have a new opponent then, my Lord of the Straw.” Cole spoke “Let's see if you can touch me… You and your brother” he nodded to Aemond.

“Weapons up, boys… Give your enemies no quarter” he spoke, focusing all his attentions on her uncles, as her brothers stood to the side, before greeting Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston” Harwin spoke.

“You question my method of instruction, ser?”

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.”

“Very well.” Ser Criston sneered “Jacaerys, come here…You spar with Aegon…Eldest son against eldest son”

Harwin scoffed “It's hardly a fair match.”

“I know you've never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn't something anyone should expect.” Cole snarked “Blades up… Engage.”

“grandsire” Aemma mumbled “it’s hardly fair”.

“oh, its just boys being boys Aemma” he dismissed, focusing on the yard once more.

She averted her eyes, focusing back on her book. Lynol strong too focused on her, his eyes watching her, assessing her. His gaze was soft, but he looked at he as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Lord Strong?” she spoke “would you like to read with me?” she asked, flinching at the sound of metal clashing.

“of course, princess” he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“You dare put hands on me?” she hears Aegon scream, capturing her and Lynol attention.

“You forget yourself, Strong.” She hears Cole spit out “That is the Prince.

“This is what you teach, Cole? Cruelty... to the weaker opponent?” Harwin scoffed

“Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual, Commander” he snarked back, moving in closer saying something she could not hear. Though it must not of been pleasant judging by the punch Harwin landed on her face.

“Stop!” she screamed, flinching away and burying her face in her hands.

“Stop this!” her grandsire repeated, as guards dragged Harwin away from Coles laughing bloody face.

After that everything changed.

Her mother grew desperate, having ser Harwin sent to Harrenhal. He was close to their family and his departure seemed to deeply upset her mother and Jace. she was not too bothered, her mother’s attention now lied in the new babe, Joffrey, and council meetings. She was looking for more and more support, Harwin outburst, and marriage offers seemed to be the best way to secure them.

“I wish to speak. Be seated.” Her mother spoke up, as the small council meeting was pulled to a close “I have felt the... strife... between our families of late, my queen.” She spoke to Alicent “And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.” Alicent nodded. “My daughter Aemma will inherit Dragonstone after me, I propose a marriage between Aemma and your son, Aemond, the pair are already attached at the hip, let them be the glue that once binds our two families. Ally ourselves... once and for all, let them rule Dragonstone together”

“A most judicious proposition.” Viserys agreed, smiling.

“Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, both Aemond and Aemma will have their choice of them, uh... a symbol of our goodwill.”

Alicent nodded, considering. “Rhaenyra” she sighed, looking down. She wanted time to think.

“Oh, Seven Hells. Um...”

“My dear... a dragon's egg is a handsome gift.” Viserys spoke to Alicent.

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” She nodded, dismissingly “You must rest now, husband.”

“Yes.”

“The proposal is a good one, my queen. We're a family. Let us put aside these childish quarrels. Join hands and be stronger for it.” Viserys spoke, as they made the way to his chambers.

“yes, Aemond and Aemma shall be pleased” she nodded, “but she is desperate” she sneered “She feels the earth washing away beneath her feet and now she expects us to ignore her transgressions and for me to marry my son to her...” she hesitated, “only daughter”

“Alicent” he sighed, “we agree, on the betrothal?”

“yes” she sighed, keep her beloved daughter in her grasps and she shall have Rhaenyra eating out the palm of her hand.

next part

Taglist (bold wouldn't let me tag)

my lady strong: @aemondssuit @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyy18 @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @dreamingofyourmoons @aleemendoza2425-blog

HOTD: @targaryenmoony

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

[chirpsythismorning]

Byler is a slow burn y’all!

While it’s possible milkvan could break up in early s5, or maybe they consider their fallout in s4 their breakup and are only now addressing it and how they’ve realized they’ve been better off as friends over the last year, it’s still gonna take some time for byler to confront everything over the last few years and both get to a point where they have clarity about their own feelings and finally accept that the other one feels the same.

I don’t think there’s enough time to explore all of that before Mike and El have that talk on the roof, or even shortly after that, even if it’s post-time jump.

It will still be interesting to see where Mike and Will are at in their relationship by the time the time jump rolls around.

It’s unlikely the painting will have been addressed without us witnessing it, unless they decide to throw in a flashback at some point if it happened during the time jump.

Which means there is still a lot they need to talk about, let alone for them be literally dating.

I think it’s also possible Will won’t know Mike and El are over for real, not until Mike or El tell him and the others.

What this might result in is an episode or two of Mike pining for Will (single 😁) while Will is none the wiser and maybe even trying to keep his distance, now under the assumption that Mike wants space to be alone with El since they’ve finally reconciled once and for all.

There’s gonna need to be episodes exploring their dynamic as friends that can be something more if they want to be and how they navigate that and how obvious it is that, in contrast to Mike and El, while they are indeed friends, they work even better as being something more too.

They’ve invested the entire series to building this up, in a way that most of the audience missed. They need to spend some time now making it obvious so that people can rewatch a lot of their scenes for what they truly are (romantic) now that they know the truth, as opposed to just being ambushed with them being together.

I need people that didn’t even want it to happen to have to endure the tension all season long, to the point where they’re screaming at their screen JUST KISS ALREADY! GET IT OVER WITH! JESUS CHRIST!

[xinamie]

🌫 — hold me gently.

pairing: tomas vrbada / smoke x gn! reader

summary: everything was going to be okay as long as he had you. ♡

tags: more of a small character study, familial death mentions, descriptions of grief/coping, angsty but with comfort sprinkled in

There was something domestic about all of this; soft whispers, sweet touches and small smiles shared between the two of you. You ran the brush through his ashen strands, being careful with each run as you listened to his light breaths. Tomas had been majorly busy lately, having to watch the way his adopted brothers were treating one another and those around them.

Bi-Han was stubborn, determined to bring the Lin Kuei to the status he believed they deserved while Kuai Liang was swept up in his fire, trying to build the Shirai Ryu from almost nothing. It was funny, really, how similar the two were despite being at each other’s throats. They were not taught to deal with their spiraling emotions properly, only to suppress them as warriors had no need for them in the middle of battle or to turn them into weapons in the worst cases.

Tomas wasn’t perfect either.

If only they saw what Tomas saw in them, perhaps they would realize how this feud didn't need to exist at all.

Despite him staying by Kuai Liang’s side in Japan, he still cared for his eldest brother too. He would often talk to others, wondering how he could help them reconcile; he wouldn’t let either of them know that though, not wanting to deal with their lectures or be seen with wavering loyalty. After all, they were his family no matter what. He wouldn’t get in between them, understanding their natures and that they were adults who should take responsibility for their own actions, but he would try where he could.

He struggled to put himself first, obvious in the recent months you’ve seen him around. While he still kept up on his training and made nice, simple conversations with common acquaintances, he would falter from time to time.

Some of his uniforms would have tears, not being fixed until you got your hands on them. It was a minute detail, but Tomas was known to be a stickler for his attire. He always wore his uniform with pride, having worked as hard as his brothers to deserve such standing in life. Any rip or stain would have been taken care of within days, yet there they were on your desk seeking care.

That task would have to wait as your hands were quite busy at the moment. The brush was set aside, favoring the way his hair felt in between your fingers. It had gotten longer as he skipped a few of his appointments.

“Will you be cutting it today?”

Tomas answered your question with a gentle hum, thinking it over as he enjoyed the way you caressed him like he was fragile. It was both amusing and warming, seeing as he was just as lethal, if not more, than those walking the halls surrounding you both.

“Might keep it like this for a change.” His voice was slow, steady as he embraced the comfort of your attention. “Think they would appreciate it.”

He spoke of his mother and twin sister, having told you before of how their beauty and grace had always shined. When they parted from the world that fateful night, he took extra measures to trim his hair when he could. Having such long locks was difficult to maintain, but it also reminded him of his other familial half— cutting it became one of his coping mechanisms that ended up in his normal routine.

Tomas recognized the look in your eyes, the faintest chuckle escaping him as he took one of your hands from his hair to hold it in his. He squeezed it with a tenderness, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing kisses to each of your knuckles. “Don’t worry, lásko.”

He guided your palm to cup his cheek, eyes filled with a certain tranquility one could only see when watching the sun rise. Then, his lips shifted into that familiar rascally look when he was about to mess around.

“Don’t you think I look handsome?"

He had asked half-heartedly, smile widening at hearing his favorite laughter echoing throughout the room. The way you pinched his cheek didn’t even hurt; maybe the strain was just from how fulfilled he felt in this very moment.

Almost every day was met with turmoil in this life he found himself in. Ones like these, on the other hand, did wonders for his healing spirit and he was eternally grateful to have someone like you with him...