#this is cheating because i wrote this ages ago

[recurring-polynya]

Hello! Long time lurker. I've really enjoyed reading your work and especially love Heart is a Muscle and the way you characterise all the different relationships in it! My ask is how do you think Byakuya finds out about RenRuki. I feel like it would be one of those moments where subconsciously he'd see it coming but at the same time still be caught of guard and manage to be very Byakuya about it.

This was one of those where I wasn't quite sure if it was an ask or a fic request, but the fact is I have an old chunk of story sitting around that addresses this very question. I guess I intended to someday throw this into some post-Heart is a Muscle story, and maybe I still will, but who knows if I'm ever going to get there, so you can have it now. Takes place after everyone gets home from the Blood War (where Rukia and Renji had to confess to each other in the middle of bankai training because I thought it would be cool it was weighing on their hearts)

(I wrote this in 2019 and gave it only light edits)

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⚔️ 🕶️ 💕

The sun was starting to go down when Kuchiki Byakuya arrived at Practice Field #3. On a normal day, work hours would be long over, although one might find an industrious officer out in this part of the division grounds, training on their own, or a few of the younger ones playing a game of pick-up football. Tonight, it was quiet.

It had been nine days since Kurosaki Ichigo had defeated Yhwach.

A young human girl was perched on the fence surrounding the field, chatting animatedly with Byakuya's ridiculous adjutant, who snapped to attention when he sensed the approach of his commanding officer.

"Good evening, sir!" Abarai Renji barked. "Thank you for agreeing to this! I hope you don't mind, but I asked Inoue Orihime to come."

The girl hopped off the fence and bowed deeply. "Hello, again, Captain Kuchiki, sir!"

"Worried that I won't hold back?" Byakuya asked with a coolly raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I know you won't," Renji replied. "She's here so that I don't hold back."

Byakuya guffawed, and one side of his mouth quirked up. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You've finally managed to say something humorous."

"You feeling good today, sir?" Renji asked, just a tinge of concern in his voice. "You feeling up for this?"

"I am fully recovered, thank you," Byakuya sniffed. "Yourself?"

"Feelin' good, sir."

"Then let us begin."

"Oh, one last thing, Captain. Would you mind leaving your scarf with Orihime, here? I wouldn't wanna get my blood all over another one."

"Truly, Lieutenant, you are on a roll today," Byakuya noted, unwinding the scarf from his neck and draping it around Orihime's.

"Oooh, it's so light!" Orihime cooed. "It's like nothing!"

"I'll tell Kurosaki to get you one for your birthday," Renji teased.

"Are you ready now?" Byakuya demanded.

"Yep, enough stallin'. Let's do this."

Orihime hopped back up on the fence and called up a shield in front of herself. "Good luck, Renji!" she called.

Abarai shot her a wink and took up his position on the field.

Byakuya placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it.

Abarai drew his and silently released into shikai. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Might wanna release, sir."

"I shall be the judge of that."

Renji gave a little nod. "As y'like. BANKAI!"

It was common knowledge that Abarai had unlocked a second level to his bankai in the Royal Realm. Byakuya was looking forward to seeing it actually, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it.

Byakuya knew quite a bit about zanpakutou and their releases. It did happen occasionally that a sword would reveal itself in stages, but it tended to retain its essential character.

Hihiou Zabimaru was an excellent bankai, powerful and versatile. It required immense spiritual pressure, iron concentration and significant amount of mental bookkeeping, Byakuya was given to understand. It had served Abarai well in his ill-advised hijinks up until now, but the fact was, it would not be truly formidable until Abarai himself had another half-century or so under his belt. It was too bulky, too finicky, too fragile. There was no other way to master bankai like that, only experience. Byakuya knew a quite bit about bankai like that, himself.

Abarai launched himself at his captain, blade swinging.

Byakuya went to shikai as he drew his zanpakutou, petals pouring forth from his sheath and forming a shield in front of him.

Abarai's blade sliced right through it.

Byakuya flash-stepped away, sweeping Senbonzakura's blades into a more solid foundation, only to find them knocked out of the way by a giant skeletal hand. Another flash step, another regrouping, and Abarai was there again.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Hihio Zabimaru had been a joke. A prank. A giant, heavy, impossible-to-use freight train that Abarai had taken in stride, as he did every other misfortune that fate heaped upon him. It was a shadow, an echo of Abarai's real bankai.

So-oh Zabimaru also took immense spiritual pressure to summon, that much was still true. But the bulk, the unwieldy mass was gone. It was as if though Abarai's new spiritual armor was plugged directly into his spinal column. It moved with him weightlessly, astonishingly fast.

Something else had changed, too. Something about Abarai's spiritual pressure. It was more unified, more focused, more together. For the first time out of the many, many times Byakuya had fought his lieutenant, he did not feel like he was being attacked by an angry, flailing youth, but that he was facing a worthy adversary.

Byakuya was being pressed harder and harder to defend against Abarai's assault.

And the fact was, he was not fine.

The injuries inflicted on him by As Nodt were grievous. He was lucky to be alive, and if it weren't for Kirinji's healing springs, he probably wouldn't even be able to summon his zanpakutou. His soul was damaged, and although he had made a miraculous recovery, he was not completely made whole. His speed was close to what it once was, and his bond with Senbonzakura was as strong as ever, but his power and endurance were greatly compromised. He could go to bankai if needed, but it was extremely taxing, and Shuukei Hakuteiken was, at the moment, out of his reach.

He thought it wouldn't matter.

Abarai had never even come close to beating him.

Abarai wouldn't notice such a weakness and furthermore, was too sentimental to exploit such a--

He had brought Inoue.

Abarai knew exactly what he was doing.

“BANKAI!” Byakuya called out.

Abarai smirked. “You shouldna let me get that head start, Captain.”

---

"Renji, he's waking up!"

The world swam into view, tinted orange.

"Hey, Captain!" Abarai's grating bark rang out. "How you feel?"

"I feel fine," Byakuya snapped, starting to sit up.

"Lie down please, I'm almost done, but not quite," Orihime said firmly.

Byakuya put his head back down on the ground, and replayed the last few moments of the fight in his head.

Abarai had come out aggressively, going to bankai immediately. He had never allowed Byakuya to gain a solid footing, and pulled out his strongest attack, which Byakuya had never seen, as soon as he possibly could. Byakuya hadn’t even been able to get a good look at it, he only had the impression of fangs before becoming completely overwhelmed. Abarai, who knew his attack patterns, who knew that it took him a minute or two to work up a full head of steam, had bet everything he had on defeating Byakuya immediately and it had worked.

It had been a rout, an utter humiliation.

Byakuya could still beat his adjutant, surely, but he could no longer plow him over with superior strength, and certainly not in his degraded condition. He was going to need to think up counterstrategies. And some of them were not going to work.

He looked down at his chest and realized that his shihakushou had been sliced from shoulder to hip, and was soaked, absolutely drenched with blood.

"You didn't cut me in half, did you?" he sneered.

"No, you were definitely all still, um, attached," Renji clarified.

"Not by much, though," Orihime mumbled.

Renji nudged her firmly in the shoulder.

Orihime waved her hands, and the healing bubble collapsed into nothingness. "All done!"

Abarai held out a hand. With a twinge of reluctance, Byakuya took it, and let the younger man haul him to his feet.

Orihime scrambled up, pulling the scarf over her head, and offered it back. "Thanks for letting me watch! That was a really fun fight! You're both so, so strong and it's so much nicer when no one actually wants to kill each other."

"Hey, we don't wanna keep everyone waiting, right, 'Hime?" Renji said, glancing sideways at his captain. "We got dinner plans, everyone's leavin' tomorrow."

"Yes, Rukia mentioned it," Byakuya replied dryly.

"You okay to--"

"Stop checking on me, you fool. I have said I am well and I dislike repeating myself."

Renji nodded quickly. "Thanks for the fight, sir. I'll see you in the morning."

Three hours later, Byakuya sat in his office.

He was thinking.

He was thinking about the current state of the Gotei 13, the captain-less squads, the loss of highly seated officers. He was thinking about his Third Seat, who had never exactly been lieutenant material and was currently on medical leave after having his sword-arm completely reconstructed.

Byakuya looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Uh, hi, Captain," Abarai said, clearly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here so late?"

"This is my office, is it not?" Byakuya snapped.

"Well, sure," Abarai replied, walking over to his own desk. "I left my sunglasses here," he explained, sticking them on top of his head.

"It's dark out," Byakuya pointed out.

"I'll need 'em in the morning," Renji shrugged. He frowned thoughtfully, then pulled open his filing cabinet and withdrew a folder. "Speaking of which, I was gonna give you this tomorrow, but as long as we're both here..."

He crossed the room and extended it.

Gingerly, Byakuya took it, then squinted at the notation on the tab. "Strongly Worded Letters to the Management of Squad 11?"

Abarai's eyes widened. "Oh, no, that was just to keep people from poking around. It's actually...well, it's pretty obvious what it is," he finished lamely.

"You aren't ready,"' Byakuya snarled.

"I'm...what?"

"Yes, your new bankai is very powerful, it is true. But just because you have run roughshod over a few enemies with it hardly means you're ready to strike out on your own. You need more training, more control. A bankai like that can land you in hot water as well as it can save you. Furthermore, there's a shortage of competent lieutenants, it would be foolhardy indeed for you to set forth without experienced backup, and don't tell me you're even thinking of the Seventh. I have heard how you and Lieutenant Iba are when you two are unsupervised."

Abarai's face was twisted in utter befuddlement. "Sir, what are you talking about?"

Byakuya flipped the folder open and stared at the neat stack of papers within. "This isn't an Intent to Test for the Captains' Exam," he said, taken aback.

Renji made a choking noise. "No, sir! Cripes, sir, I just got a new bankai, why would I leave? I need you to help me learn to use it. An' I wouldn't leave you, anyway, not while you're still, you know. From the As Nodt thing. Also, who the hell wants to be captain of anywhere but the Sixth?" His voice rose steadily in both volume and pitch as he babbled.

"There is no need to shout, Lieutenant," Byakuya frowned, looking down again at the stack of papers.

It was a copy of form RHCA-48-006-C, an application to become a Family-Approved Suitor.

Stupidly, Byakuya's eyes drifted over the names written into the form's blank spaces. "With the submission of this form, Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei 13," (did he really need to write all that out? It barely fit in the space) "requests the approval of the Kuchiki family to court Lady Kuchiki Rukia, Assistant Captain of the Thirteenth and First Daughter of the Kuchiki."

Oh.

Oh.

---

Byakuya sat in the garden, on the bench near the koi pond. His brain was chasing about in aimless circles, much like the fish in the pond.

"Brother?"

He looked up from the water. His sister was still dressed, despite the late hour. Byakuya recalled that she had been out earlier with Abarai and their human friends. Her hair and makeup was different from the way she wore it for formal events, sharper, wilder. It seemed surreal that parts of the city had been reduced to dust, while others had come through virtually untouched. That despite it all, life continued on.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked, her brow creased with worry.

Byakuya smiled at her gently, affectionately. He thought about the great lengths he had once gone to protect her from the world, and now she, a woman with one of the most beautiful and deadly bankai he had ever seen, was fussing over him.

"I am fine, Rukia," he reassured her. "Will you sit with me?"

He had expected her to perch at the other end of the bench, a nervous bird, always ready to take flight. Instead, she sat close to him, and with an egregious disregard for propriety, took one of his hands between her own, holding it in her lap. "Renji's sorry, you know. He thought he should have waited another week or two, but I said--"

"He should not be,” Byakuya said stiffly. “Another week or two would have made no difference. I do not wish to speak of it further."

"Did you have something to eat--"

"Did you know that my lieutenant is in love with you?"

It was dark, so he couldn't see if Rukia's cheeks turned pink, but he did catch the shy smile that crossed her lips before she turned her face away self-consciously. Long ago, he had caused her normally unflappable sister to make that face once, maybe twice. It was possibly his greatest achievement.

"He, ah, mentioned something to that effect the other day,"

Byakuya was fairly certain that Abarai wouldn't have proceeded without Rukia's buy-in, but he felt it prudent to double-check. "I take it you... reciprocate?"

She made a pleased little hum. "He only happened to mention it at all because I had just told him that I was in love with him."

Byakuya often enjoyed whimsically deriding his ridiculously hardworking and absurdly devoted adjutant, even more so in the presence of his sister, whose affection for the man had long been obvious, if not the degree of it. But he couldn't bring himself to make jokes, not right now.

"You do not need my permission to take up with him romantically," he pointed out. "You and I have had a long-standing agreement, that as long as you were discreet about it--"

"Renji and I don't want that," Rukia interrupted. "I mean, we do. We do want to take up romantically." She made an odd face at having to say the phrase out loud. "But you're very important to both of us. We wanted you to know. We… wanted you to approve."

Byakuya glanced over at the young woman who he had adopted so many years ago, and yet, had only recently become his sister. She was, in so many ways, much like himself in his youth. Brash. Stubborn. Willful. Too brilliant by half. Byakuya adjusted his hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"You know I am a sentimental fool," he began, and Rukia turned to look at him again with an expression he couldn't quite parse. "I think it is embarrassingly obvious how fond I am of both of you."

Emotion broke over Rukia's face. "It is not, Brother," she tried to scold him, though her voice cracked at the end.

"He hardly deserves you," Byakuya went on.

Rukia rolled her eyes. "The two of you are so--"

"But at least he acknowledges that, and seeks to remedy it," Byakuya ignored her. "I shall be watching closely to make sure he does not become complacent, but if he continues on his current trajectory, he may eventually become worth your affection."

"So, are you going to approve his stupid form?" Rukia asked.

"That," replied Byakuya, "is a different matter."

"Oh," Rukia said softly.

"Becoming a Family-Approved Suitor has nothing to do with whether or not I like him. It is an opening of negotiations, a proof of suitability for marriage. Surely, you two don't…" He trailed off when he saw Rukia looking away again.

"We've only just started figuring this out," she admitted. "But it's not...out of the question."

"Oh," Byakuya replied. He'd always had the distinct impression that his sister had little interest in matrimony, although he knew as well as anyone the difference the "who" of the equation could make.

"That presents...a difficulty," he admitted. "The Family would not take it well. They already think I have been too selfish in these matters.”

“That’s so short-sighted,” Rukia muttered. “So he doesn’t have much money or a name that goes six generations back. He’s got bankai. He’s incredibly strong. The family hasn’t even produced anyone who can pass the vice-captain’s exam in the last hundred years.”

"You misunderstand me, Sister," he clarified. "Bringing Abarai into the family would be a tremendous benefit to me, personally. I lack for neither money nor familial pedigree. The only thing I lack is a family line. A young man of immense spiritual pressure, with no family ties of his own, and an inexplicably fierce loyalty to myself would be of great benefit to our line and perhaps to our family as a whole. It would not be very advantageous to those who are jostling to prove themselves the best among a number of poor choices. The family has not been to war in a long time, and many forget how important it is to maintain our strength. I have not forgotten.”

Rukia’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t name him…”

Byakuya made a horrified face. “Of course not.” He frowned. “Not for the family. But the Captain of the Sixth need not also be the head of the family. I told the Head Captain a year ago he was the only one I trusted to replace me in that regard, although I doubted my posthumous opinion would be respected. I suppose I should tell Kyouraku the same. This would make things a bit smoother, I suppose.” He was quiet for a moment. “I will need to think on this. I might.... I might need to talk to Grandfather. I… will do what I can.”

Rukia eased her hand from his, and slid her arms around his waist and leaned into his side. “Thank you, Brother. I love you.”

Byakuya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hardly deserved her, either. He pulled one arm out of her hug and rested it gently around her shoulder. “Thank you, Rukia,” he said softly. Another deep breath. “I love you, too.”

Her only response was to hug him just the teeniest bit harder.

[french-goodbye]

please never fall in love again

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: dating steve harrington is hard, especially when girls keep hitting on him.

notes: i wrote this a while ago but eventually forgot about it in the midst of all my wips lol. title from the song please never fall in love again by ollie mn.

you stare at the back of your boyfriend's head with narrowed eyes and your chin resting on your hands, an anger you know you shouldn't be feeling boiling beneath the surface of your skin. he, of course is none the wiser, as he is to most things, just chatting with eddie completely carefree by the bar.

you love steve harrigton, you really do. you think you fell in love with him on your first date and never really fell out of it. you've already planned your whole life with him, from getting married and having kids to growing old with him and sitting side by side on a wrap around porch. he's sweet, kind, he's great with kids and it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes and great in bed.

his biggest flaw, however, is not exactly his fault. the worst thing about dating steve harrigton is the amount of women who hit on him on a daily basis. whether it's old ladies at the grocery store telling him he looks like their dead husbands or bored soccer moms looking for a little thrill or, the worst of all, the girls your age who slip him their phone number in old receipts over the counter at family video. these women are always there, like blood sniffing sharks, somehow finding a way to make a suggestive comment or a flirty joke.

most of the time, it doesn't really bother you even when it does happen in front of you. steve's the kind of guy who'd never cheat on you, simply because of who he is and how obsessed with you he is. sometimes, however, they can get a little too close and personal and you can't help but wish steve was a little less attractive. just a little.

and it's not that you don't trust him either, he's always quick and firm to shut them down when it happens. it's that they're the ones you don't trust, the girls with big permed blonde hair and fake tans and bright pink lipstick who look at you disdainfully when they realize you're together because they can barely take their eyes off of him for long enough to notice you're standing right next to him.

you're out at a bar celebrating jonathan's birthday when it happens this time, steve and eddie having offered to get everyone another round, the two of them leaning against the bar talking while they wait when a girl from the booth in the corner approaches them. she's clearly a little bit more than tipsy and obviously focused on steve as she talks to them, avidly taking him in and resting her hand on his forearm. he doesn't even blink, just smoothly leans away from her and tells her something that makes her leave as fast as she arrived.

you can barely hear nancy as she complains about her male coworkers on her summer job, as you heatedly stare at his stupidly nice hair and broad shoulders as your boyfriend laughs at something eddie said, hand scratching his neck. you're still watching him with scrunched eyebrows and a sour expression when you feel robin poking your cheek, making you look at her and gently slap her hand away.

"why are you poking me?"

"why are you staring at steve like he kicked your puppy?" she asks, frowning, looking back and forth between the two of you like a tennis match.

"i'm not" she gives you a flat look with raised brows. "fine," you huff. "why do women always hit on him? we can't take him anywhere"

"no idea, you tell me"

"urgh" you groan, throwing your arms around her and resting your head on her shoulder. "god, i hate men"

"amen sister" you hang onto her for a second as she takes a noisy sip of her empty drink through her straw and taps your back sympathetically a few times before gently pushing you away as steve and eddie walk back to your table, drinks in hands and still chatting distractedly.

she softly claps her hands, enthusiastically and telling you a quiet "yay" as she turns back to nancy and jonathan, as the two argue wether or not their coworkers are sexist (they totally are).

you're still laughing at robin's drunken antics when steve comes to your side again and sets your new drink on the table in front of you, resting his hand on your lower back. you let him but when he leans over you to press a kiss to your hair, you promptly dodge away from him and out of his reach. from the corner of your eye, you can see how he frowns at that and silently watches you for a second as you pretend to listen to what nancy says.

his hand on your lower back climbs all the way up to the back of your neck so he turn your head his away, forcing you to look at his big brown eyes staring at you like you just kicked his puppy and you almost feel guilty. almost.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

you shrug, "nothing's wrong."

"are you mad at me or something?"

"no" you slowly shake your head in negative, shrugging.

"gimme a kiss then" he rests one of his hands on your face tilting your head his way while the other on your neck guides your face to his. you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek and look away, accidentally making eye contact with the girl who just hit on him. she's watching the two of you, quickly looking away when she notices she was caught staring.

"you saw that, huh" he tells you, hands settling on your waist instead so he can look at you.

"hard not to" you huff, picking invisible lint from your pants.

"then you know nothing happened"

"of course i know that, i trust you" you complain as you roll your eyes and gesticulate to show your frustration "but i-it just makes so insanely angry when they touch you like that, like they have any right to-" you stop your ranting mid sentence when you realize the look on his face. "what? why are you looking at me like that?"

"nothing" he clears his throat and looks down to uselessly smooth non existing wrinkles on your top. you watch him though narrowed eyes and gasp when it hits you, making him look at you again. "what?"

"you like it when i'm jealous" you accuse, lightly poking his chest.

"no, i don't"

"yes, you do. i can't believe i never noticed it before" you huff an incredulous laugh, remembering all the times girls hit on him in front of you and he said nothing but affirmations of how much he's in love with you and how he could never want somebody else, acting more attentive and affectionate than usual later, pressing you against his body and kissing kissing kissing you until he was the only thing on your mind.

"okay, it's not what you're thinking" he replies running a hand through his hair nervously.

"what am i thinking, harrington?" you ask, lifting one eyebrow as a smirk makes it's way to your lips.

"it's not an ego thing" you laugh softly at him, letting your fingers run soothingly through the hair at the nape of his neck, finally giving into the temptation to get your hands on him. "it's just- i like knowing how much you want me just for yourself, how much you care about me."

you stare at him for a moment, taking in his sincere brown eyes and his fluffy hair, feeling impossibly endeared by the boy in front of you. he fidgets under your stare, so you smooth your hands down his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath his shirt.

"well, i do care... a lot" you tell him, pretending to be coy and batting your eyelashes at him. "but it's not like i blame her"

"what?" he looks at you blankly, confused.

"i mean, look at you" you pull him closer and then closer still, still smirking. "those nice brown eyes, the pretty hair, those shoulders... nevermind how much of a charmer you are. damn harrington, no wonder women keep throwing themselves at you."

"babe" he groans embarrassedly, "they're not throwing themselves-" he dramatically drops his forehead on your shoulder making you laugh at his discomfort, letting brown strands of hair slip through your fingers as you comfortingly pet his hair and he squeezes your waist in reprimand.

"it's true!"

he pulls you closer by the grip he has on your waist and burrows his face in the crook of your neck in lieu of an answer. you let him have it even though you would like to see his face and the way his blush is probably spreading from his cheek to his neck and rest your chin into his shoulder as you hug him.

"but one of these days i'll have to step in and defend your honor"

"please don't" he pulls away and cups your neck, thumbs brushing your cheek and staring at you disapprovingly, his eyelashes touching at the corners, the hint of a smile still on his face.

"i don't know, maybe i'll have to challenge them to a duel to the death" you disagree and look at him from under your eyelashes. he gives you an affectionate look that'd make you nauseous were it not directed at you and presses a long lingering kiss to your lips.

"shut up" he whispers against your lips. you gladly do, at least until eddie and robin start throwing balled up paper napkins at your head. it's worth it though.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

[aliaology]

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

summary: jack realizes yns music is quite literally a call out, directed towards him, and his brothers egg it on. pt.3

series masterlist

“i called my mom, she said ‘that it was for the best!’ remind myself the more i gave, you’d want me less”

jack could’ve hit his head against the counter ten more times and the song would still be ringing through his ears like a splinter that wouldn’t come out of his hand.

quinns hand made contact with the back of jacks head. “knock it off, jack.”

jack groaned, shoving his head into his arms. he groaned again, this time the noise being muffled due to the his arm. “she wrote a song about me, quinn.”

quinn rolled his eyes. “you don’t know its about you” he told.

jack scoffed, head shooting up. “she literally called me out. the parties, that stupid red sea reference, even the chorus. its so obviously me. and then her newer single that dropped thirty minutes ago?’

quinn shrugged, “could be about trevor”

jack rolled his eyes, “no way in hell, quinn. they never hooked up and her newer one is about some guy hooking up with her later on—“

“you sound obsessed, jack.” quinn told. jack looked down, embarrassed.

“whats jack obsessed with?” trevor asked, walking inside the kitchen. he stole a grape from jack and popped it into his mouth.

“y/n’s song” quinn spoke.

trevor scoffed, “why are you so hung up on it? its just music.” trevor shrugged.

“hes upset because hes getting called out.”

jack groaned again, head hitting the counter.

quinn rolled his eyes again. “you’ve gotta stop doing that dude. listen— she probably made these ages ago and just now got to releasing them.”

trevor popped another grape in his mouth. “not too sure about that, but i know she started writing them when you two broke up.”

luke slowly walks in. “seriously? you guys are torturing the man talking about his ex.”

jack nods, signifying lukes words to be true.. luke goes into the cupboard to grab a plate. “just ignore it.” he shrugged.

trevor snorted. jack sent the boy a glare, causing his laughter to abruptly stop. “how can i just ignore it? shes getting big and her music is everywhere already.” he asked.

quinn gave him a look. “then face it, jack. you can’t keep putting yourself in denial for something you caused.”

jack let out an exasperated groan for the 100th time. “gee, thanks quinn. way to make me feel better.”

“dont start giving him shit, jack.” luke spoke.

jack rolled his eyes. “whatever, im going to my room.” he got up and went for the stairs.

all three boys looked around at each other. silence fell through the room. suddenly, the sliding door opens. “whats going on?” cole asked.

“quinn picked his side of the argument.” trevor spoke, slightly glaring at quinn.

quinn gave one back, “dont act innocent, trevor. you screwed her over too. you and jack need to own up to it and stop cowering like little kids. you are both in your twenties for fucks sake. grow up.”

quinn went off to his room, leaving a wide eyed group of boys behind.

jacks brows furrowed as he listened to the song in his earbuds. his girlfriend napped next to him as he sat up on the bed. he hates to admit it, but he kinda deserved this.

“lets fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later. if shes got blue eyes, i will surmise that you’ll probably date her. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor, you search in every model—“

he stopped the song, taking his earbuds out and tossing them to the floor. he cheated, and now was dating the girl he cheated with. it was sad, really.

fiona, she was a woman who loved money. jack, was a man who loved attention. maybe that’s why they were together. but she wasn’t horrible like people said, right?

quietly, he went to tik tok and made a fake account, that way she knew he didn’t stalk her profile. i mean— she has no idea he even uses it still.

jack searched fionas name up, ultimately clicking on her profile. she had one video up. he clicked on it.

ick ick ick ick

she was lip syncing that really terrible audio that went ‘he chose me, he dont want you. he chose me’ and honestly, jack was appalled.

but before he could open the comments, she started to wake up. he swiped out of the app and deleted it, tossing his phone to the side afterwards.

“hey baby.” he smiled.

now that we dont talk!

tags! @honethatty12 (if u want tags, just ask <3)

[dreamcubed]

i don't wanna live forever | mattheo riddle x reader

song; i don't wanna live forever [taylor swift, zayn] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw!reader genre; ex2l, reconciliation, ex-lovers, angst, smut, hurt comfort(ish) word count; 2,8k timeline; half-blood prince  warnings; swearing, toxic relationship, jealousy, controlling behaviour, mattheo is not a good person, neither is y/n, borderline cheating (not on y/n or mattheo), smoking, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, arguments, drunk sex, piv, fingering, degradation, ass-slapping summary; ever since you began dating, you and mattheo had been a fiery and toxic mess of breaking up and getting back together - only, when you finally try and date someone else, you realise that you miss and crave the unhealthy pattern that came with mattheo riddle

MINORS DNI! 18+ content.

i don't typically write smut but this oneshot felt incomplete without it. so, enjoy... 2 year anniversary & 1k celebration gift haha

masterlist

"wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life."

——————————————

"I mean, why did you even date him in the first place?" Cho asked you, chewing on a chip, "He's literally You-Know-Who's son."

You sighed, used to this conversation from every person you knew, "You can't judge someone by their parents."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Cho, his dad went MIA for thirteen years when he was one and his mum was in prison until last year. He hardly knows them."

"But," she said, "He was raised by the Malfoys and he was sorted into Slytherin."

You rolled your eyes.

She shrugged, "I'm just saying, the red flags were there."

You didn't reply, moving your gaze over to the group of Slytherin boys sat laughing with each other while they ate. Your ex-boyfriend, Mattheo Riddle, was sat among them.

It felt too definitive saying ex, however, since you two broke up and made up constantly, and had for the last year and a half, much to your friends' horror. You argued with him, you cried over him, you talked shit about him - but you loved him. And the love you had was a burning flame of passion, but it wasn't healthy. You had broken up a week ago, which was actually the longest you had gone without talking.

Normally, you would have caved by now, but you felt different this time. You felt immensely stubborn.

"It's time you stayed apart for good," Cho said, just as Mattheo's eyes locked on to yours, "He's bad for you."

You knew she was right, which was why you accepted when a nice Hufflepuff boy asked you to Hosmeade that weekend.

***

The bouquet of pink and red flowers being presented to you really should have given you butterflies, maybe even made you squeal, but they horrified you. Nonetheless, you smiled and said, "Awh, thank you. You shouldn't have," before taking Leon's extended arm and letting him lead you to the Three Broomsticks. He pulled the chair out for you, and you forced another smile on to your face.

"I've been wanting to ask you out for ages," he said excitedly, "But you were still on and off with Riddle."

You hummed.

"I'm glad you're done with him. He didn't treat you right."

It was mutual. You were just as toxic as Mattheo.

"But I will."

"Well, thank you, Leon," you said gently, "We'll see, won't we?"

He beamed at you, "You're so beautiful."

Surely such a comment should make you blush, right?

***

"How was the date?" Cho wiggled her eyebrows back in the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"It was... good," you said, placing the flowers on your desk haphazardly.

"Just good?"

"He's really nice, I- I just..."

Cho frowned, "He's boring?"

You shook your head, "No, he's funny and interesting."

"Then what's the issue?"

You shrugged, "I don't know."

"Give him a chance then, babe."

***

Leon wrote you poems, he took you on cute dates, he fed you, he walked you to classes, and he hung off your every word. But your eyes would always linger over to Mattheo - because despite everything Leon did for you, the only time you felt butterflies anymore was when you made eye contact with your ex-boyfriend. That glittery spark had never once burnt out in those long eighteen months you were on and off. Every argument and break up only seemed to make it burn stronger and brighter.

And the thing was, Leon was too healthy for you: too sane, too trusting, too normal. Mattheo had turned you into a raging jealous monster, as you had him, and it was part of the reason you were on and off. Neither of you had ever actually cheated, but if you got too close to a boy? He would start an argument and scream at you until you yelled back that you were over. Two days later, he would corner you, never truly apologising but kissing and making up, muttering how he loved you before fucking you until the sun came up.

And you had done the same thing to him.

That was the issue with Leon: he was friends with everyone. Some of his closest friends were girls. Were you jealous? No. But you knew if you began to develop feelings for him then you would become more jealous than an innocent boy like him could handle. You would ruin him the way Mattheo ruined you, fucking him up for any future romantic endeavours.

It drove you crazy how respectful he was, how he didn't bat an eye at you saying you were going to study with a male friend. You needed more push and pull than what he was giving you: you craved a fight, because you craved the crazed passion that came with it.

Yet, three weeks passed by and Mattheo had made no effort to do anything more than glare daggers at you and Leon from across the room.

Then the Christmas holidays hit.

***

A rich Hufflepuff in your year - not Leon - was hosting a house party at their gigantic home, and you had scored an invite. In fact, so had everyone in your year, including a few people from the year above and year below. Leon had immediately owled you to say that he would pick you up before heading there, but you knew that as you patted on concealer and highlight, you were thinking about Mattheo's reaction when he saw you. He had hated when you dressed too revealing, saying that he could see guys' eyes on you - and he wasn't wrong, you just didn't care.

You had purposefully dressed yourself in a tiny black miniskirt and matching bralette, which as a combination left very little to the imagination. With the fishnets you adorned as well, it was borderline lingerie.

Maybe Leon would finally argue with you and make you feel something.

"Y/N, you look gorgeous," he beamed, not a trace of anger on his perfect face when you opened the door to him.

"Thank you," you said, fighting the urge to sigh, "You don't look so shabby yourself."

"Shall we?" he held out his hand to you, which you accepted.

***

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, and you made a quick motion to catch up by downing two shots. Leon watched you in amazement.

"You want one?" you asked, going to pour another drink.

He shook his head, "I don't drink."

"No?" you paused in your movements, thinking that maybe this would be the time you finally argued, "I drink a lot."

"Each to their own," he shrugged, "I'll look out for you."

"Thanks, then," you said awkwardly, "I'm gonna go for a smoke, you coming?" Had you partially said that as another attempt at angering him? Yes. But you also were craving nicotine.

He shook his head, "I'm good, we'll catch up in a bit, yeah?"

You nodded absently, pouring a third shot for yourself before creating a mixed drink and heading outside to the smokers' area. And, there he was, Mattheo Riddle stood with a cigarette between his lips and a drink in his hand.

Pulling out a cigarette that you had tucked in your bralette, you boldly walked up to the group of Slytherin boys and asked, "Anyone got a light?"

Nott, who was right next you, passed you his, but you never took your eyes off Mattheo. His eyes glided up and down your exposed body as you lit your cigarette and took a long drag, relishing in the taste. You watched his jaw clench.

"You and Duggard official yet?" Berkshire asked, referring to Leon. At his question, a borderline growl erupted from Mattheo.

You shrugged vaguely, "We'll see."

"Will you?" Mattheo asked coldly.

You exhaled some smoke, "Well, he's handsome, smart, funny and attentive to my every need."

"Oh, is he?" Mattheo stepped closer to you.

Chuckling, you said, "He's a very kind man."

Mattheo scoffed, pushing past you with a mutter of, "That's not what you need."

He was right, of course, but he didn't need to know that.

You turned your focus to your cigarette.

"He's not the same without you," Nott said casually, dropping his finished cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

"No?" you murmured, a smile tugging on your lips.

"He hardly sleeps, hardly eats, is angry all the time," he continued, "So, please, stop your little charade with Duggard and get back with him already."

"Who says it's a charade?"

You heard Berkshire scoff, "C'mon, L/N, everyone sees you stare at Matt all the time. Everyone except Duggard, that is."

Biting your lip, you ashed your cigarette, "Well, maybe Riddle should man up and apologise."

***

The party raged on, and as the alcohol flowed through your system, so did the music. Leon didn't seem that keen on the party atmosphere, so you resorted to dancing with Cho and other Ravenclaw girls. That was until you felt a guy come up behind you and begin dancing with you.

You turned around to see a Gryffindor boy from the year above, and he wasn't half-bad looking, so in your drunken state you allowed it to happen. Cho gave you a sceptical look, but didn't intervene.

A hand tugged on your wrist, and you looked up to see Leon.

"Can we talk?" he mouthed, and you nodded absently, following him to the quieter room that was the kitchen.

"What?" you said a little harshly.

"I'd appreciate if you wouldn't dance with other guys," he said, his tone completely without malice.

Your instinct in these situations was to get aggravated, so you snapped, "Well, if you actually knew how to party, I wouldn't have to."

Leon stared at you blankly, "I'm sorry."

For fuck's sake, why did he have to sound so genuine?

"I'll try and come out on the dancefloor if that's what you want."

"Fucking hell," you cursed.

"What? What is it?" he sounded worried.

"Why don't you argue with me?" you exasperated, tugging at your scalp.

Leon frowned, "That's no way to resolve things."

"It's not about resolving things," you snapped, "It's about passion, it's about the spark, it's- it's..." you trailed off, "Rowena, I feel crazy."

"I understand your relationship with Riddle wasn't the easiest one, but I want to help you learn what a calm and healthy relationship is," Leon said gently, "Because you deserve better."

"Are you even listening to me?" you pulled your hands down your face, "I don't want peace. I want passion. I want twin flame bruises. I want a push and pull."

"I-"

You cut him off, "Mattheo would have beat the shit out of that guy for dancing with me."

"That guy probably didn't know you were taken-"

"Mattheo made sure that everybody knew I was his," you said firmly, feeling tears prick at your eyes, "I just need to argue, Leon - I crave it."

"Well, I can't give that to you."

"Y/N," a voice spoke in a growl behind you.

You span around, being faced with the one man who could make you feel electric. And that was when your emotions crashed all over you: upset and anger expressed through tears and yelling.

"Why are you taking so fucking long?" you screamed.

But he wasn't looking at you - no, he was glaring at Leon. "I think you've had long enough with my girl, Duggard," he drawled.

"She's not your girl anymore," you heard Leon reply, before he said to you, "What did you mean when you asked him why he's taking so long?"

You saw Mattheo clench his fist, and you grabbed his wrist to halt him, "Fucking talk to me, Riddle."

His eyes snapped to yours, "I will never be Riddle to you, princess."

"Considering we've hardly spoken the last few weeks, I'd say you are."

"Guess I'll have to remind you who you are to me, then," he chuckled darkly, pulling you away from Leon. The Hufflepuff boy went to follow you worriedly, but you glared at him and he stayed put. Part of you felt bad: a tiny, sober part.

You found yourself in an upstairs bathroom, pressed against a cool tile wall.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I can't promise I'll be a good person about it."

"You're never a good person about anything," you muttered, relishing in his hot breath fanning on to your face.

He smirked, "We both know that's the way you like me."

You hummed, "Fuck me, Mattheo."

"I'm not sure you deserve a good fuck after everything you've done."

"I never fucked him."

"No?" he chuckled, "Good."

And then his lips were on yours, tasting, sucking, nibbling every centimetre. His hand quickly trailed to underneath your skirt, rubbing your clit through your scandalously thin panties.

He pulled away from the kiss, "Don't ever wear anything like this again," he kissed you again, "At least not in public."

"Whatever you want."

He hummed his approval, pushing your panties aside to push two fingers inside of you.

"Please, I just want your dick."

"Yeah?" he murmured, "How bad?"

"So bad, please," you begged, your tear and mascara stained cheeks enhancing the puppy dog eyes you gave him. Mattheo had to admit, he loved seeing you so desperate for him.

"You really don't deserve this," he sighed, unzipping his trousers.

You licked your lips as you watched him pull his rock hard dick out.

"I can't wait to feel your mouth on it again," he muttered, "But I'm feeling nice, so I'll just give you what you want."

Mattheo bent you over the sink countertop, lifting up your skirt and slapping your ass in the process. He pulled your panties further aside.

"Don't act like you don't just miss being inside me," you forced out, making him slap your ass harder.

To your surprise, he said, "Of course I fucking did."

And then he pushed inside you, quickly and without warning, causing you to gasp loudly.

"So fucking wet."

You arched your ass up to him, moaning.

"I don't think I'm gonna last long."

You were hardly able to reply, as he had begun to run circles on your clit as well. But, you agreed with him, as the absence of this feeling had made your body hypersensitive to Mattheo's every touch.

"Fuck, you're such a whore," he murmured, picking up the pace relentlessly.

"Your whore," you managed to say, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt your orgasm build up.

"I bloody well hope so," he chuckled.

And then, as you both came closer to ecstasy, things went silent - the only noise being his groans, your moans, and the sound of skin slapping.

"Matty, I'm gonna co- fuck!" you cursed, feeling your release wash over you in red hot passion, your vision going white as your every limb shook. You didn't normally orgasm so easily.

He continued to fuck your overstimulated pussy, gripping your hips so hard it would probably leave bruises. "Gonna fill you up," he choked out, his breathing growing heavier as you finally felt his dick throb inside you, signifying his release.

Mattheo stilled, staying inside you for a moment as you both processed the situation. Eventually, he pulled out, helping you turn over so you were sat on the counter facing him. You were both panting.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, and your eyes widened.

He had never outright apologised before.

"I'm sorry too," you mumbled back.

"I love you so much," he pressed his forehead against yours, "I just I-"

"I love you too. So much."

He hummed, "I just- I don't understand my father. I don't want to live forever."

You frowned, "Why not?"

"Because," he took your hands in his, "Without you, I'd just be living in vain."

A smile stretched widely on your face, "Want to leave this stupid party?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

And as you left the party, hand in hand and evidently in a post-sex haze, Mattheo said - loud enough for a few close people to hear - "I'm gonna marry you, you know that?"

And you did.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 25/02/2024 —> 09/03/2024 published; 09/03/2024 edited; —/—/——

[divinelydecreed-custommade]

He's got a girlfriend anyway

Hey my loves, I wrote this ages ago and now see it reads like a Matty Healy blurb😭 there aren't any names though so it's really just a silly little story about you & your pretty boy bestie and the "will they/won't they hookup" energy that surrounds your not so platonic relationship. also - you're both in the like 19-21ish age range if you care about that for the visual

content - cheating adjacent (you might feel like its full blown cheating depending your moral compass lmao - proceed with caution if you're not here to read about that), pining fallingforyou vibes

You end up in his lap in the backseat of your best friend's car. It's purely logistical. You're both small and openly affectionate and it just makes sense for you two to cuddle up in the corner to leave room for your friends with longer legs and broader shoulders - although you probably would've ended up in the same position even if the backseat were totally empty.

You've been mistaken as his partner and he yours more times can either of you care to count. It might be because his fingers are always laced through yours when you're walking through town, or because your legs tend to find themselves draped over his when you inevitably sit next him on the sofa. Just about an hour ago your new drunk bathroom soulmate was saying how jealous she was because her boyfriend never wants to dance with her like yours was all night. You laugh it off with a "yeah, I love him!" Because you do. In a platonic way. Of course. Since he's got a girlfriend anyway. She's new and you like her well enough, but she couldn't come tonight and old habits die hard. So now your back is against the car door and your right side is against his chest. His left arm is wrapped around your waist and his other hand is resting on your leg, keeping you steady as your friend takes sharp turns on the drive back.

You're both tired after a night of drinking and dancing and one of your hands is lazily playing with his curls while the other is tracing the fingers resting on your thigh. He's gently dragging his blunt nails down your back and everything feels nice, and easy, and comfortable. You could easily fall asleep surrounded by the scent of smoke and cologne clinging to his clothes and skin with the quiet music playing from the stereo. He shifts a little beneath you and you end up tugging his hair a little harder than you meant to. You whisper an apology in his ear but he just laughs softly as he continues to lean forward.

At first you think it unintentional - the way his lips just barely brush your neck - but that thought quickly leaves your head as he trails kisses down to your collarbone. You're still combing your fingers through his hair and pull at it again as you feel his teeth grazing the base of your throat much too lightly to leave a mark. You turn closer so you're almost chest to chest in the confines of the backseat and feel his lips curve into a smile against you. You trace your fingers down his shoulder to rest above his racing heart, satisfied that he seems as effected as you.

He's getting bolder, easing his hands under the hem of your top running across your bare back and ribs as the car comes to a stop at its first destination. You move to open the door once you realize you've made it to his already and hop out first, allowing him to follow behind you. You stand on tiptoes to hug him goodbye for the evening as his housemates head for the door, expecting him to say sleep well, or see you soon, or anything but what he actually says:

"Y'wanna come up?"

It shouldn't shock you as much as it does. You pull back enough to look at him with a furrowed brow, giving him the opportunity to say he was messing and take it back but he doesn't.

"I don't think Connie would appreciate that, love."

"Shit - I didn't mean to - sorry..fuck." He trails off.

"Forget it, just go to sleep, yeah? We'll talk in the morning if you want."

He quickly nods, "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

You squeeze his hand and press a kiss to his forehead before you leave and get back into the car. Now that the front seat is unoccupied, you slide in next to your best friend who simply says "The fuck was that?"

You wish you knew, but you just shake your head and press your fingers to your temples, looking down at your lap. "I dunno - he's drunk."

"Mm, maybe." She says, sounding wholly unconvinced. "He's always been so into you though."

"Yeah, well. Apparently not that into me." You say it and look over to her with a wry smirk that you hope ends this line of questioning.

It does - the next thing she asks if you wanna get fries on the way back to your shared apartment. Now that is a question to which you will always know the answer.

this is my first time sharing any writing on this acct - feel free to engage if you like ❤️

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 19: GATHERING EVIDENCE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Trying to do the right thing by his mother though who, by now, had managed to manipulate Max into trusting her more than his father, he picked up his phone and texted her.

"I think dad is having an affair again," he wrote, biting his lip nervously after hitting send but Danielle didn't reply immediately.

"I know," she eventually responded before taking a deep breath. It took her some time to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.

For weeks, she had suspected that Cillian was unfaithful, but neither could she prove it yet nor did she know who he was sleeping with.

Just 24 hours ago, Cillian denied her suspicion when she had confronted him, resulting yet in another fallout where Cillian prevented her from hurting herself again. After that, she chose to keep quiet, pretending that everything was just fine while secretly plotting her revenge. 

"Do you know who with?" Danielle then texted her son, trying to remain composed despite the anger boiling in her veins. 

"No, but whoever she is, she wears the same perfume as Y/N I think," Max replied honestly, placing his phone on the toilet seat.

The bathroom was warm and cozy, but his mind raced, consumed by the turmoil brewing outside.

"It smells like her," he added, feeling unsettled as images of a certain pair of eyes filled his mind. "But maybe I am just imagining it because she was here earlier to check up on him and redress his cut," Max typed, hoping to convince himself and ease his anxiety.

"Why did he not go to the clinic to get it redressed?" Danielle asked, her heart sinking into her stomach as her suspicions grew.  

"I think he doesn't want to deal with the hassle of waiting in line at the hospital," Max guessed before finishing up in the bathroom, following which Danielle sat down on the bed at her house, burying her face in her hands.

Surely, her husband would not be cheating on her with their son's ex-girlfriend she thought, not knowing what to believe.

She was paranoid, her thoughts racing wildly as she paced back and forth across the bedroom floor. She knew that accusing Cillian without solid proof again would only push him further away. So, she decided to find evidence instead.

Danielle felt a surge of determination course through her veins as she frantically searched through Cillian's belongings. She rifled through drawers, examined clothing, and even scoured his old phone, desperate for answers.

Then, she pulled out his lap-top, looking at his search and contact history. There was no sign of anything unusual, but she kept searching.

At one point, she saw that he had recently logged on to his old Instagram account which Max had set up for him years ago but which he never really used. He was still logged in and the first person who showed up in his recent searches was you.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at your profile picture, frozen in disbelief. Could it be true? 

Danielle read through your posts, scrolling past pictures of you hanging out with friends and she thought to think of innocent reasons as to why Cillian would look at your profile. 

She scrolled on and, eventually, stumbled upon a post from over a year ago, where you tagged Max in a photo of the two of you together, smiling cheerfully. It was an instant wave of nausea that washed over her as she remembered that time Max had introduced you to her and Cillian. That day, she had thought to herself that you were cute, polite, and smart, but little did she know that you would become her biggest enemy.

Meanwhile in London, Max shared some more dinner with his father Cillian before calling it a day. Being at university again, he had an exam the following day and needed some rest.

Yet it was difficult to sleep with the lingering thoughts of you nagging at the back of his mind.

He was lying in bed, wide awake, when he felt a familiar vibration. He looked at his phone and saw that Danielle had messaged him again.

"Do you still have the key to our apartment that I gave you?" she wanted to know urgently.

"Yeah, why?" Max answered quickly.

"Dad is out in the afternoon, shooting a commercial for Montblanc. Can you let the cable guy in at 2 o'clock?" Danielle asked Max and since his parents only recently purchased the unit, he wasn't really surprised by his mother's request.

"Okay, sure," Max agreed, typing the response on his phone following which Danielle thanked him for the help and wished him luck with his upcoming exams.

"Thanks Mum," he finally wrote back before putting his phone aside, not knowing that what his mother was really going to do.

She was going to have cameras installed in various places around the apartment to catch Cillian in the act.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[novathestarrygalaxy]

More than Friends [Park sunghoon x Female Reader]

Word Count: 5,482.

Warnings: None

Themes: Fluff, Childhood best friends to lover

Not Proofread since it lags a lot on mobile. I wrote this on laptop but I don't have access to it anymore.

Now Playing:I Fell In Love With My Best Friend

Sunghoon has always been the quiet type. Maybe not that type where he's too shy to approach someone, rather, he's that type who is happy with the friends he found at the playground 12 years ago and not looking for anyone new. With the exception of two, all his friends have been with him since kindergarten. Though there's a visible age gap in the friend group, they somehow managed to become the most popular of high school students with their charm. Sunghoon is content with his friends and enjoys their company. The only annoying things in his life are the crazy fangirls (he never thought high school guys could have those) and mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Since he had seen the crazy fangirls drooling all over him, any interest in dating or pursuing someone vanished in an instant. Not like he had any before-but the thought had been there. Now even the thought makes him nervous. Dating someone who keeps his hair in her locker? Nah, he'd pass.

Truth be told, he's more interested in enjoying his high school life with his friends rather than spending it with some girl who would get jealous if he even looks at another girl. And he's speaking from experience. That was his first and last relationship, which only lasted for two weeks. And it hadn't ended there like he expected or wished. The girl had some crazy antics up her sleeves, which he only realized later when he found a tweet of hers about how he had used her and dumped her. Though all her tries failed, since it was known around school that Sunghoon is a sweetheart to everyone. He wouldn't do something horrible to a girl. Plus, everyone knew how much of a crazy fangirl Tessa was for Sunghoon, so nobody bothered to believe her.

Currently, he is trying to get through a series of math and physics homework their teacher assigned for them over the weekend.  He is over at his best friend Jake's house, eating ice cream and expressing his frustration through chewing the spoon. He heaves a sigh and groans," Jake, please let me copy your homework. I'll pay for the movie tickets next time, I promise." 

Jake looked up at him with a mouthful of ice cream and mumbled something. Sunghoon just rolled his eyes in annoyance. "And how many times have I told you to not talk with food in your mouth?'

Jake gulps down the ice cream and looks at his best friend with a sheepish smile." Sorry, old habits-And how many times have I told you that, no, I won't let you copy off me! You should do your own work and be independent. I'll not always be there to be your cheat sheet. And also, you never pay for the movie tickets. You always promise and forget your wallet at home. I end up paying for us."

Sunghoon sighed, knowing it was useless trying to argue with the boy. Usually, Jake lectures him and after Sunghoon pouts or teases him, he gives up. But when it comes to math and physics, he never lets him copy off and starts to teach and make him understand. Sunghoon is happy with that, since Jake can teach way better than their old Ms.Crane ever could, but he is not in the mood for learning today. Like, who wants to learn for an hour on a weekend? Unbelievable. So when Jake offered to teach him, he straight up turned down offer because even though he teaches well, he would drag the lesson just to talk more about physics. Sunghoon wouldn't like this amazing noon to go to waste with long physics lessons. So he just stuffed his mouth with ice cream and hoping he would arrive at school tomorrow in time to copy off Jay or Heeseung.

As he looked back at his book and tried to make sense of what a scientist from two centuries before said, the door creaked open and Jake's older sister, (Name), walked in.

Jake's sister was older than them by two years, if we are only counting these two. She is in her senior year at high school, only a few months away from graduation. She is undoubtedly the most popular person in their whole school, being both pretty and intelligent. The perfect student, a prefect, an athlete and every teacher's favourite (Though Jake teases her by calling her a 'Teachers' Pet'). Oh, did he mention the school heartthrob? Every freaking guy in the school, except Sunghoon and his friends, had a crush on her. Sunghoon had practically grown up with her, being Jake's best friend and all. She is almost like an older sister to all of Jake's friends. She is known as their Friend Group's Special Guest. She pops up time to time. At this point, she might as well as be considered as a part of their group.

(Name) sat down beside them and, much to Jake's dismay, attacked their huge bowl of ice cream. As she picked up a spoonful of ice cream, she asked,"Too much homework?"

Jake put his hands behind his head in frustration and nodded."Too much homework."

Sunghoon saw a perfect opportunity to annoy Jake and grinned. He whined,"Noona, Jake isn't letting me copy off him."

(Name) chuckled while Jake rolled his eyes and shot him an annoyed look. She playfully shook her head and said,"Jake, why aren't you letting Sunghoon copy off you? It's not like he always does this. One time won't hurt."

Jake scowled."Noona, you don't know, this guy copies off me whenever he comes over, and by that I mean every weekend. He doesn't want to "waste" his precious weekend solving math. And it's not like I never let him copy off me. I just don't let him copy math and physics. And I offered to teach him, but he said that I take too much time to teach someone, and he would rather do anything else than spend his weekend noon listening to me ramble about math and physics." Jake shot Sunghoon a scornful look.

(Name) burst out laughing and threw her head back. She looked at Sunghoon and raise an eyebrow. She teased him with an amused tone,"Is that so, Sunghoon?'

Sunghoon blushed slightly and nodded. He sassily replied,"Well, who wants tpo waster their weekend listening to an hour long math and physics lecture?"

(Name) chuckled and nodded."Hmmm, you do have a point there, Sunghoon. But I have an idea. How about  instead of Jake lecturing you for an hour, I help you with your homework?'

Sunghoon clapped in excitement and nodded, while Jake protested,"Wait, why him? Your my sister, you're supposed to help me with my homework, not his."

(Name) rolled her eyes and said,"Because I know you already can do your homework, you nerd. Plus, I came here to tell you that Mum told you to get groceries."

Jake's mouth widened."Why me? It's your turn!"

(Name) smirked."Oh, I told her that I have an assignment due and I'll do with you guys, so Mum told me to tell you to get groceries, since you're not busy. And I'm pretty sure I can keep Sunghoon company. Right, Sunghoon?"

She tilted her head and winked at him while Jake was sulking, and a smirk formed on Sunghoon's face. This was their secret gesture, which meant it's time to tease and taunt Jake. It wasn't officially said between them; but whenever they teased Jake, she would tilt her head and wink at him. Sunghoon would also reply with a smirk of his own.

Sunghoon kept the smrik and said,"Oh, it's totally okay. I'm sure I'll survive an hour or so without you. Plus, you could also take a small walk outside in the beautiful sunlight."

Jake groaned in frustration and stood up. He glared at them and whined,"It's not fair!'

The two burst out laughing. As Jake gave them an annoyed look and was leaving the room, (Name) called out,"At least you won't have to worry about homework for a while!"

A curse word was heard as the boy slammed the door and left the room. They both burst into laughter again. (Name) clutched her stomach and almost fell over with her chair. Sunghoon threw his head back and banged on the table with his hand. They had, again, succeeded in teasing Jake and making him curse. Making him curse was always a big accomplishment, since the boy was mostly against cursing.

They somehow pulled themselves together and caught their breathes. (Name) looked up at Sunghoon with a smile and asked,"Another success?'

Sunghoon smiled back at her and nodded."Another success."

She sat up straight and looked at empty bowl of ice cream. A groan escaped her lips."That bastard ate the ice cream while we were busy annoying him. Guess he got his revenge some way." With that, she looked at him and gave a pouty look. She said,"Sunghoon, would you please get more ice cream from the fridge, please?'

Sungoon smiled and shook his head."Nope. Not happening. Jake also made me get the ice cream."

(Name) gave him one of her best puppy eyes and whined,"Please, Sunghoon. Won't you do a small favour for your dear noona?"

Sunghoon laughed at her antics and protested some more. But he gave up after a few minutes and went downstairs to get some more ice cream. As he came back, she pulled the bowl out of his hands and grabbed a spoonful of ice cream. Sunghoon sat back down next to her, she offered him his ice cream and he gladly accepted it.

(Name) sat up straight in her chair and said,"So you were having problems with your math and physics homework, right?'

Sunghoon nodded, and she flashed him a smile."How about I help you with your homework? I promise I won't lecture you for an hour like Jake. How does that sound?'

He smiled and replied,"Offer accepted."

(Name) smiled and he showed her the homework. As she started explaining to him, he couldn't help a smile growing on his face. She had always been like this, helping him with his homework. She explained way better than anyone he knew. Sometimes he wondered how a person could be this perfect. She was perfect from everyway; starting from looks to intelligence to personality. He always felt comfortable around her. She always put people at ease. Though she wasn't really an extrovert, she just had a natural way of talking to people. She never made anyone feel uncomfortable in her presence, and everyone loved her. She would always help the friend group out with homeworks and assignments; and as a Junior year student, Sunghoon really appreciated that.

As the sunlight fell on her face while she explained to him, he couldn't help noticing her beauty. She had a unique beauty. Her features might not have been the uncommon, but somehow her beauty seemed ethereal. Currently, it seemed as if the sunlight was showering her with affection; and it just enhanced her beauty even more. Sunghoon's heart fluttered, and his heartbeat fastened. His mind went into a frenzy as he recognized this feeling. The feeling of falling in love might sound like an exaggeration, but he knew it as what it was. The same feeling he felt in middle school towards that one girl who rejected him on the school rooftop.

Sunghoon wondered about their friendship. He had known her since the day four year old him fell down on the playground, and a four year old Jake and a six year old (Name) came rushing to help him up. From then, they'd been inseperable. It didn't matter that she was older than both of them, his bond with them was stronger than he had with any of his other friends. She was the reason he never got more than a week's detention for skipping class. She always covered for all of them. Even after becoming a prefect, she never reported them for skipping classes. Favoritism? Maybe. But she was all about supporting harmless fun. That's one of the many reasons everyone at school loved her.

She and Jake were the ones who took care of his grandma while she was sick. She was the reason he passed his middle school finals while he was seriously sick and in bed. She and all his friends stayed up all night, watching over him in turns. She was the eldest and in high school, so she helped them study for the finals at daytime. She was the one who ran out at 2 A.M, all alone, to get emergency medicines for him while his condition got worse. She had always been there for him, along with all his friends. They were his life. He didn't know what he'd do without them. They are a part of him.

(Name) tapped his shoulder, and Sunghoon snapped out of his trance. She had been calling him for some time now. He scratched the back of his head and flashed her an embarrassed smile, gesturing for her to continue.

As time went on with her helping him with his homework, he found himself getting butterflies time to time. He tried to fight the feeling, but he just couldn't. Eventually, they finished the homework and as they kickbacked on Jake's bed to watch a movie, Jake came back and joined them. Sunghoon felt bad, thinking what Jake would say if he found out his best friend had started developing a crush on his sister. Not something positive, Sunghoon thought. But as the afternoon and evening went on with them watching the movie, he just couldn't help feeling guilty as his feelings didn't seem to go away at all. Rather, they seemed to grow. When he left their house, he turned to them and gave those two a hug, like he had always done before. But hugging (Name) made him flustered, which never happened before. Thankfully, neither Jake nor (Name) noticed his behavior, or he would be even more embarrassed.

The next two weeks at school, he tried to avoid (Name) as much as possible. But that proved to be hard, as she was almost always hanging out with them at lunch and recess. He even stopped going over at Jake's for the weekend, giving the excuse that he had chores to do at home. Jake was visibly bummed out, but it didn't seem like he suspected that Sunghoon was lying. But all his efforts went in vain, as he couldn't avoid her much. He would have to see her everyday at lunch. He couldn't stop hanging out with his friends, or they would've suspected that something was up. Still, he tried to talk to (Name) as ew times as possible. But he just couldn't help noticing everything about her. How she smiled, how she threw her head back while laughing, how her lips automatically formed a small pout when she was surprised, how her lips parted when she was zoning out. Every small thing. His feelings for her only continued to grow.

And his behavior didn't go unnoticed by his friends too, even though he tried his best to act normal around them. They had known him enough to know that something was up. Every sing le one of them asked what was wrong. Jake and Jay looked really worried for him. Ni-Ki Heeseung even cornered him one day at class.

Heeseung walked up to his desk and leaned against it. He crossed his arms as he looked at the younger. He asked,"What's wrong, Sunghoon? You've been acting really weird these days. Everyone's worried about you. Jake even told me that you didn't go over at his last two weekends, which is really unusual for you."

Sunghoon felt guilty. Of course everyone would be worried for him. But that thought had flown over his head. As he realized that he was making everyone worried for him, he felt really mad at himself. He had been a dumbass by not realizing it before.

He didn't want to worry them even further, so he assured Heeseung that he was okay. But the boy didn't look convinced. He kept shaking his head and asking what was wrong. At last, Sunghoon gave up. He sighed. "I'll tell you, okay? But please don't tell the others. At least, not for now."

Heeseung leaned in closer as Sunghoon started explaining. He looked away and said,"I...How do I say this....Okay...The thing is, I have a crush on (Name)."

Heeseung's eyes widened. (Name) was their childhood friend. She had been a part of their friend group since always. Even though she couldn't always be with them, since she was two grades above them, it didn't matter. She always hung out with them at weekends. And when they finally came to high school, their friend group was complete again. But he never imagined Sunghoon having a crush on (Name). He was under the impression that they were like siblings, but it seems like his thought was wrong.

Sunghoon didn't give him a chance to speak and continued to speak."And I've been trying to avoid her, that's why I don't talk as much as I did before when we are with her; which is almost always. I didn't go over at theirs just to avoid her. I don't want to let my feelings for her grow. She probably sees me as a younger brother, and how could I have a crush on her? I just can't face her."

Heeseung sighed. He stayed quiet for a while, before he started speaking."Sunghoon, you do realize that's not gonna work, right? You'll have to tell her sooner or later."

Sunghoon nodded grimly, and Heeseung said,"You need to tell her. Bottling up your emotions isn't gonna work. Even if she sees you as a brother, she won't be mad. I know her. She's not the type to be mad over something like that."

Sunghoon sighed and said,"But I'm scared. Just because she won't be mad, what is the chance she won't be upset? And even if she wants to be my friend even after that, who's to say our relationship will stay the same after that? It might just break apart."

Heeseung nodded. He agreed,"Yes, that might happen. There's no guarantee for that. But you won't know if you don't confess. And who knows, she migt even agree to go on a date with you.

Sunghoon mumbled,"Might."

Heeseung nodded."Might. Yes. But that's better than nothing."

Sunghoon sighed and looked at the older."Sorry, Hyung, I just can't. I hope you don't mind."

Heeseung sighed and nodded."I don't mind. But don't avoid her or us anymore, okay?'

Sunghoon smiled and nodded."Okay,"he said.

Heeseung smiled and patted the boy on the head before going back to his own seat.

Sunghoon gave his words a thought that night and decided not to confess. But he wouldn't avoid her anymore. So he went to Jake's house the next weekend, as he couldn't use the same excuse over and over. As he sat down with him, discussing what they could do (Thankfully there wasn't any homework that day), (Name) entered the room.

Sunghoon tried to keep his expression normal as she chose to sit down right next to him on the bed. She was looking even more beautiful in her eyes, if that was even possible. He thought of saying something to look normal, but (Name) broke the silence first.

"Jake, you left all the dishes at the sink. Mum's not very pleased."

Jake jumped."Oh my gosh, I totally forgot to do the dishes! Is she angry?"

(Name) shook her head and replied,"Not angry, but not very happy either. I suggest you go down and do the dishes right now before her mood gets worse."

Jake nodded and ran out of the room. She chuckled at his reaction and looked at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was watching this exchange between the two siblings in complete silence with a smile on his face. As he noticed (Name) looking at him, he flashed her a grin. He asked,"Movie night again today? I'll stay over the night."

(Name) nodded, but their was something off with her expression. Sunghoon felt a bit worried when he saw her. But she started talking before he could speak."Yup. Movie night. Horror movie night. I was also planning on taking you both to McDonalds."

Sunghoon grinned, but his grin faded as he saw her expression. He furrowed his brows and asked in a worried tone,"Are you okay?"

(Name) nodded, and he couldn't help feeling even more worried. This type of unenthusisastic reply wasn't usual for her. He asked again,"You sure? You don't seem like your usual self today."

She sighed and rolled over on her stomach. She put her wrists on the bed and propelled her face up with her hands. She looked up at him with a slightly pouty expression and asked him something that completely caught him off guard.

"Are you mad at me, Sunghoon?'

Sunghoon's eyes widened, and he quickly put his hands up in protest."No! Not at all! Why would I be mad at you?"

(Name) sighed again, and the pout on her face just got bigger. She said,"Then why have you been ignoring me for the past two weeks? You don't talk to me like you used to do. It's almost as if you don't want to see me anymore. Did I do something wrong?"

Sunghoon wanted slap himself. He had completely forgotten about how she would feel when he was trying his best to avoid her and not catch more feelings. And she was thinking that she did something wrong and he was mad at her. He felt so angry at himself and felt guilty for making her feel that way. He sighed."Noona, I'm not mad at you. I'm just feeling a little off these days. You know, school and stuff."

(Name) pouted even more."But you talk to everyone else like usual. You didn't even come over the past two weekends. Sunghoon, can you tell me what's wrong?"

He sighed and said,"Noona, I'm sorry, but it's complicated. I'm not mad at you or ignoring you. I'm just in a kind of complicated situation, that's it.'

(Name) looked at him with her brows furrowed."Tell me what's bothering you then. I want to hear about this complicated situation of yours. I might be able to help."

Sunghoon shook his head. He was sure she would be mad at him after hearing what his complicated situation was. It might even not only ruin their friendship, but also his and Jake's. And she probably thinks of him as a younger brother. How could he confess to her?

She saw him shake his head, and her frown deepened. She asked,"Sunghoon, since when do we keep secrets from each other? I thought we were friends. I thought we always shared everything. I know all your secrets, and you know all of mine. You even told me when you tried smoking for the first time and regretted it. Do you not trust me anymore?"

That sad look on her face broke Sunghoon. This was it. He couldn't hide it from her anymore. It might be the end of everything, but he had to tell her. He thought of Heeseung's words, and decided to shoot his shot. It's now or never. He sighed and said,"Okay, Noona, I'll tell you.' It felt weird to call her Noona, which was a first. Even though he was feeling nervous and his mind was screaming at him to not tell her or lie, he continued."You'll probably get mad at me, and I'll understand if you do. But just please listen to me."

(Name) listened to him carefully as a small smile grew on her face, replacing the pout. Sunghoon took a deep breath and said,"N-Noona, I-I like you. Not in a platonic or siblings way, I like you more than that. I want us to be more than just friends. I tried to fight the feeling, but it just wouldn't go away. So I avoided you. I avoided you in every way I can; so that my feelings won't grow. But it didn't help. My feelings continued to grow. You were just too perfect. I'm sorry, and I know this might even ruin my friendship with you and Jake, but I just can't help it. I'm sorry."

Sunghoon was surprised at how organized his words were, since he always had problems expressing his feelings through words. (Name) must've noticed this too, since she looked a bit suprised. He closed his eyes shut and prepared himself for the blow that was about to come.

But that never came. As he opened his eyes, he found her looking up at him with a wide smile. That helped him calm down. It always did. She suddenly laughed softly, and he felt a pink blush creeping up his cheeks. She playfully shook her head and said,"That was it? I was expecting you found out about my obsession with knives and got scared."

Sunghoon's eyes widened. He exclaimed,"Obsession with knives?!"

(Name) smiled, embarrassed."My only secret that I never told you, considering you weren't a big fan of knife handling."

Sunghoon shook his head in disbelief, and she chuckled. Her face was a bit red now, and it made her look really cute. He hadn't seen her blush too many times, but it aways made him smile.

(Name) started fidgeting with her fingers in a nervous manner and said with a smile,"And aboutr what you just said...I'm not mad at you. Not at all. It's not gonna ruin our friendship. I feel like it's kind of adorable how you have a crush on me. And...I might also feel the same."

Sunghoon's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He could feel his cheeks burning. He tried to say something, but it came out in stutters."Y-you a-also like m-me?"

(Name) nodded with a small blush. She laughed softly."I thought you saw me as an older sister, so I also didn't say anything. I was kinda internally beating myself up for feeling this way towards you."

Sunghoon also laughed."Really? I was also bashing myself internally."

She nodded with a smile."Mmmhm. Really."

Sunghoon couldn't help the smile on his face growing as he tried to speak, but she spoke before him. She flashed him a smile and said,"Ice cream date tomorrow evening?"

Sunghoon gave her a boyish grin and nodded."Ice cream date tomorrow evening."

(Name) smiled and leaned in close to him. As she saw his eyes widen and his face getting redder, but no signs of protest, she finally kissed him on the lips. Sunghoon kissed back, feeling really embarrassed and happy at the same time. She liked him back and they were going out!

As he wrapped his arms around her and she pulled him closer, the door burst open and a happy Jake entered."Guys, I've finished the dishes! Let's-"

He froze in his tracks as he saw the two of them."What the actual f-"

They had also frozen, but as soon as (Name) recovered from the initial shock, she threw a pillow at his way, not letting him finished his sentence. Sunghoon felt his cheeks grow even hotter, to the point they were burning. Jake yelled,"Ahh why would you throw the pillow at me?! And what are you guys doin-"

Another pillow hit his face, this time thrown by Sunghoon.

Sunghoon dived his face in (Name)'s neck in embarrassment from being caught by his best friend while kissing his older sister. She pulled him closer and yelled at her brother,"Can't you knock?"

Jake yelled back,"Why would I? Since when did we knocked while one of us wasn't alone in the room? And stop throwing these damn pillows at my face!"

They both burst out laughing and (Name) playfully rolled her eyes."I guess you have a point."

Jake pointed at Sunghoon and asked,"And what on earth are you guys doing?"

Sunghoon hid his face even more in her neck in embarrassment while she stroked his hair. She glared at her brother and said,"Don't you have eyes? And you're embarrassing Sunghoon. Look how red his face is."

Sunghoon whined in protest. Jake rolled his eyes and sat down next to them. He shook his head in disbelief."Since when this has been going on? How come I didn't know my best friend was in love with my sister?"

(Name) curled her lips and replied,"Since today, And it will go on."

Jake pulled Sunghoon from his hididng place and shook him with every word he said."Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me. You. Bastard."

Sunghoon felt a little dizzy from all the shaking and pushed the boy away. He scratched his neck in embarrassment and said,"I thought you'd be mad...so...'

Jake shook his head in exasperation. He said," Mad? Oh boy, I'm mad at you. But not for falling for and kissing my sister. For not telling me you bastard! I am your best friend and you didn't tell me that you have a crush on my sister!"

They both burst out laughing as Jake stared at them in disbelief. He was still pretending to be mad, but as the corners of his mouth twitched, they saw a small smile was slowly forming on his face. He still said in a angry tone,"You'll pay for the movie tickets the whole year, Sunghoon. That's what you get for not telling me."

Sunghoon smiled and nodded. This was a way better price than he thought he would have to pay. He could deal with that. Plus, he was sure Jake would go back to paying after a month or two. So no worries.

Suddenly, another thought crossed Jake's mind. He grabbed a pillow and started hitting them with with it. He yelled,"And this is for throwing pillows at me!"

Sunghoon laughed as (Name) also grabbed a pillow and attacked her brother. As their fight went on, he also grabbed a pillow and joined them. All of them ended up with torn pillows after the fight, with cotton flying all over the room. Jake and (Name) looked at each other with wide eyes, and all three of them burst out laughing. As (Name) blew away a few cottons from Sunghoon's hair, he felt as if he had never been more happy and content. He knew from that moment, with his friends and possibly future girlfriend, he wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again.

And when they started dating from the next day, nobody was happier than Jake and Heeseung. Heeseung boosted around in the friend group that he already knew about Sunghoon's crush on (Name). Knowing that, Jake only got more pissed and demanded two whole years of movie ticket payment. Now Sunghoon knew that he would have to pay the for tickets at least for the next six months. He was seriously worried for himself now. It is the only problem he's currently dealing with now. And since Jake doesn't have to pay, he insists on taking Sunghoon and (Name) to watch a movie every weekend. Sunghoon had hoped that (Name) would tell her brother off, but she seemed to be enjoying the free movies every weekend. At least she insisted on paying for every date they went on, or he would've gone bankrupt by now. He can only hope now that he would still have enough money to buy his friends and girlfriend birthday and Christmas presents.

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Bottom left gif by: @binary--sun , bottom right gif by: @interstellarflare

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Word count: 5.1k+

Chapter summary: Nine years later, unexpectedly, Jack hears from you. 

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, mentions of cheating, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone for the overwhelming support on Chapter One! I didn't have much time to work on the graphic for this chapter, so it took me a while to upload it. I have ADHD, and it's currently unmedicated, so that's also a factor. I find that I work best when the house is quiet, but with children around, getting them to sleep can be quite hard, haha! Again, I wrote this years ago, so I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post. So, thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story!

As Jack's footsteps carry him back to his apartment from the Kingsmen agency, his mind is consumed by the weight of his day's work. An hour before he intended to go home, he found himself inexplicably overwhelmed by a sudden urge to rush to his apartment. It wasn't a foreboding feeling, but rather a strong sense that something good was on awaiting him. If anyone happened to catch a glimpse of Jack's somewhat clumsy dash out of his office, barely avoiding a slip on the freshly mopped floor- no one commented.

Now, in the lobby, with each step closer to his sanctuary, a glimmer of anticipation flickers within him, a faint hope that there might be a respite from the pain that has plagued his heart for years.

Reaching his mailbox, he pauses, his hand steady as he retrieves the day's mail. Among the advertisements, his eyes catch sight of a familiar return address adorned with the emblem of the firm that handled the painful dissolution of his marriage. The sight sends a jolt through his veins, instantly sharpening his senses. He feels a surge of joy and curiosity that threatens to overpower his cool demeanor. This, this is what I’ve been waiting for, he thinks.

With the letter clutched tightly in his hand, Jack climbs the staircase, his heavy and rushed footsteps echoing through the empty building stairway. As he reaches the sixth floor, he pauses for a moment, catching his breath and steadying his racing heart. Fuckin’ hell, I’m really starting to get old. 

His apartment building's signature aroma, a mix of aged wood and Reed Diffusers, drifts through the air and the illuminated corridor, offering a soothing moment. With renewed determination, he strides towards his apartment, the key ready in his trembling hand, eager to discover the message held within the white envelope.

Taking the letter inside, he fumbles to close the door behind him, his focus solely on the contents of the envelope. It feels like an eternity as he tears it open, the sound of the paper ripping echoing through the room. Throwing away the torn envelope, his hat, his phone, and his keys on the coffee with disregard, his gaze locks onto the words that lay before him, ink etched upon the pristine white surface.

With each sentence, the gravity of the situation becomes clearer, the weight of the words pressing against his chest. His heart beats faster, his breath growing shallow. The letter, written in a professional tone, contains the invitation he had never anticipated but always hoped for. She wants to meet me. The delicacy and urgency of the matter are subtly emphasized, practically begging Jack to meet you.

Jack's eyes scan the lines, his mind working swiftly to decipher the unspoken pleas hidden within the formal language. He can almost hear your voice, strained and vulnerable, begging for a chance to talk. 

The letter extends an offer of legal representation, a reminder that the cold machinery of the law can mediate their meeting. But Jack's resolve is unwavering. He wants this to be personal, as personal as it can get. I can finally clear everything up with her. Tell her what I never said. The opportunity to talk face to face with you without the barrier of attorneys fills him with a mixture of hope and anxiety, like a tightly wound spring ready to unfurl.

A surge of emotions floods his being, the years of longing and unanswered questions vying for attention. He clings to the flickering flame of possibility, for within this letter lies the chance to reclaim what was lost, to confront the lingering ghosts of his past, and maybe, just maybe, you could love him once more. Throughout the past nine years, when Jack basically pushed you out of his life, he lived in constant regret. He promised himself if he ever got a second chance with you, he would take it and do everything in his power to ensure you never felt the same pain as you did during your marriage.

Jack can't help but feel a glimmer of optimism as he sets the letter down. The future is uncertain, but the mere fact that you have chosen to reach out stirs hope deep within him. It's a fragile hope, like a flickering flame in the darkness, but it burns nonetheless.

As the weight of the letter lingers in Jack's hands, his gaze drifts toward his phone. Resting on the table beside the torn envelope lay a familiar device—Jack's unchanged phone, a device that held precious moments. He had never upgraded it because it carried countless memories. It was the very phone into which you had entered your number when you first met. It was the same phone that had kept him up on calls until the sun peeked over the horizon, the same phone that had exchanged texts with you at all hours of the day. It was the very phone where you introduced him to the world of sexting, etching those intimate moments into his memory. Jack found himself continually revisiting these cherished memories, and he never changed his phone number. Perhaps, in the recesses of his hopeful heart, he believed you might someday reach out. Even though the years following the divorce had passed without your contact, he couldn't bring himself to give up hope.

He reaches out for his phone and picks it up, his fingers gliding over the familiar touchscreen. With a deep breath, he dials the number to the firm, his heart pounding in sync with each number pressed. 

The sound of the dial tone echoes in his ear, and before the receptionist has a chance to utter a greeting, Jack's voice resonates with urgency, cutting through the silence, "Good evenin’. This is Jack Daniels. I'm callin' for Mr. Raul Santos."

The receptionist, taken aback by his directness, responds with a polite tone, "Good evening, sir. Please hold while I transfer you." The hold music fills the air, a symphony of anticipation mingled with the echo of distant voices. Jack's mind races; moments feel like hours while he rehearses over and over what he will say.

Finally, the ringing ceases and is replaced by a voice on the other end. It's Raul, the person who holds the power to give Jack his biggest wish. Jack wastes no time, the words escaping his lips before doubt can creep in, "Raul, it's Jack. When can I meet with her?" His voice carries a blend of longing and urgency.

"Jack, can you meet tomorrow at St. Andrew's Hospital at 10 AM?" The words hang in the air, filled with anticipation, as Jack's breath catches in his throat.

Why the hospital? Jack's mind questions. Summoning his resolve, Jack finds his voice and responds, "I'll be there."

"Perfect," Raul replies, his voice a lifeline in the abyss of uncertainty. "We'll be waiting for you on the tenth floor of the East Tower. When you sign in on the first floor, tell them you're meeting Dr. Navarro." Jack nods to himself, memorizing all the instructions as if his life depends on it. 

Jack's emotions simmer beneath the surface as the call comes to an end, a torrent of hope, nervousness, and a glint of renewed longing. The image of St. Andrew's Hospital burns in his mind, a symbol of new beginnings and the coming together of their separate lives.

With apprehension and excitement, Jack sets the phone down, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Tomorrow assures a reunion, a chance for Jack to apologize for all of the suffering he has caused you. It is a moment he has dreamed of, yearned for, an opportunity to correct all his errors.

As he gazes into the distance, the fading daylight casting long shadows across his tired face, Jack finds solace in the glimmer of hope that glows in his heart. The road ahead may be filled with uncertainty, but at this moment, he dares to believe that the fragments of their broken bond may find a way to heal.

Despite his initial doubts, sleep had managed to find its way to Jack, offering him a few hours of rest. When he wakes, a surge of excitement courses through his veins, fueled by the knowledge that he will soon be reunited with you. The morning light filters through the window, casting gentle rays of warmth upon his face; as he rises with a renewed sense of purpose.

Determined to make a good impression, Jack steps into the shower, the hot water cascading over his body, washing away the traces of sleep and leaving him feeling refreshed. He carefully removes the stubble with each stroke of the razor against his skin, his fingertips tracing the sharp contours of his tanned face, ensuring a clean and polished look. The mustache, once untamed, is now meticulously trimmed, framing his pink lips.

Moving to his closet, Jack sifts through his collection of clothes; a rain of fabric and colors fall on his full-sized bed. He changes in and out of various combinations, looking for the perfect outfit. His fingers glide over the texture of his dress shirts, searching for the best one. Jack eventually settles on a deep blue dress shirt, a charcoal gray blazer, tailored pants that hug his frame just right, and a tie with subtle patterns.

Next, Jack turns his attention to his footwear, opting for a pair of polished black leather shoes. Would you examine his shoes with a magnifying glass? No, but that doesn't stop Jack from meticulously brushing off any lingering specks of dust, ensuring they shine in the morning light. As a finishing touch, he retrieves a felt Stetson hat, a prized possession that holds sentimental value because you gifted him with it. He tenderly cleans it, erasing any signs of wear, and proudly sets it atop his head.

Ready to see you- Jack leaves his apartment, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The crisp, chilly morning air greets him as he exits the lobby. I remember I met my sugar on a day like this, Jack thinks. He pretty much runs towards his car and turns the key making the engine roar to life. With each mile that passes throughout his two-hour drive, his mind remains focused on the meeting ahead.

When Jack arrives at the hospital, he hands his keys to the valet while scanning the surroundings for the reception area. He spots a man in a gray uniform and approaches him, his voice full of eagerness, "Good mornin’,” Jack begins, "I have a meeting with Dr. Navarro at 10 AM." 

"May I see your ID, please?" The man asks politely, extending his hand.

Jack hesitates for a moment and reluctantly hands over his ID, watching as the man's eyes scan the name. There's a brief pause, and then the man looks up at Jack, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Jack Daniels." The man says with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the name on the identification. 

Jack, sensing the unspoken question, clenches his teeth and responds with a touch of irritability, "Yes, it's real." The man understands the tone and directs Jack toward the appropriate elevator.

Jack complied eagerly and made his way toward the elevator. With anticipation, he reached out and pressed the button, making it glow orange. A ding echoed behind him in a matter of seconds. He hurriedly stepped inside the elevator and quickly jabbed at the close button, unwilling to wait for another passenger. Jack kept repeating a mantra of hurry, hurry, hurry in his mind. Without wasting a second, he confidently pressed the number 10.

Jack grows impatient inside the elevator, his fingers tapping restlessly against his hips as he paces back and forth. The rising numbers on the display screen get his attention, frows burring with each digit slowly increasing- reminding him of precious time slipping away. "This has to be the slowest fukin' elevator in the world." He growls in the empty elevator. Frustration lingers in Jack's thoughts; You should've taken the stairs instead of the goddamn elevator, his inner voice cursing the choice that delays the meeting with you. And when the tenth floor finally arrives, Jack leaps into action, his boots hitting the clean baby blue floor with a resounding thud.

Startling the receptionist, Jack raises a hand in apology and walks toward the front desk. He provides his name and appointment details, receiving a buzz of approval before being directed to his destination. Jack rushes forward, his heart pounding. Unbeknownst to him, the receptionist shakes their head, silently cautioning him to be careful, a concern in the receptionist's head so he won't stumble and falls on his ass because of his hurried run. 

The instructions echo in his mind, and he checks them off as he goes; walk to the automatic white doors, check, press the buzzard, check, walk to the end of the corridor, check, make a left, check, take one last left, chec-

And there you are, seated on a gray leather bench outside the meeting room, your eyes locked onto the black screen of your phone as if you’re waiting for it to light up, lost in a world of your own. Jack's breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, and his eyes well up with tears. Time seems to stand still as he stares at you, overwhelmed by the flood of memories and emotions that surge within him. Despite the passage of years, you still possess the power to make his heart flutter, your presence stirring a mixture of awe and love. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, he thinks.

However, Jack's expression falters as he realizes the missed opportunities, the unspoken words, the love not fully cherished. Regret taints his thoughts as he reflects on the path that brought the both of you to this moment. He wants to make amends for the pain he caused you, but Jack knows that this meeting has a different purpose; he doesn't know why the exact reason, but after everything he put you through, there must be a reason you need him. He's not going to let you down, not again.

Summoning his courage, Jack calls out your name. Your head immediately turns towards the voice, one that hasn't graced your ears in years, and for a quick moment, he sees a flicker of reluctance in your eyes. Seeing Jack again, admittingly, stirs up an overwhelming desire to hide from him. All you can see are the haunting memories. A flood of painful flashbacks that would bring you to tears in privacy. The temptation to approach him surges within you, but it's not for a hug or a kiss, no. Instead, you imagine the crimson mark your hand could leave on his cheek. But you take a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reason you reached out to him after all these years.

"I didn't think you were going to show." You finally say, your voice tinged with relief and guarded vulnerability. Rising from the bench, you stand before him, your hands tucked inside the comforting embrace of your black hoodie's pouch. 

Jack's heart aches at the sight of you, knowing that the pain he inflicted has left an unforgettable mark on you. Though he craves to erase the memories of hurt, he understands that redemption lies in actions, not words alone. Taking a deep breath, he suppresses his own desire to close the distance, touch you, and maybe taste your lips again. He mentally shakes his head, focusing instead on the reason for your reunion.

"Hi, Sug-" He stumbles for a moment, realizing he no longer has the right to call you by the affectionate nickname. "I mean, hello. I'm here." 

"I'm glad you came."

Jack nods, his throat tight with emotions he struggles to put into words. "I knew I had to be here," he says, "I couldn't let this opportunity slip away." 

"There are things we need to address, wounds that need healing. I want to make things right, to find a way to move forward together."

You want to interrupt, to rip the bandaid off, but Raul's advice rings in your ears, urging you to let the meeting room be the place to lay everything on the table. So you hold back and let Jack do the talking.

Jack takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking. His heart pounds in his chest as he gets closer. "I know I've caused you so much pain," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm here today because... because I want to make things right. I wanna understand, I wanna listen, and try to heal the wounds I've caused. I wanna be there for you, to support you, to love you, and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. And if you'll let me, I wanna be a part of-" 

Just as Jack was about to request something that has always been on his mind, a door opening from behind you interrupts him. Raul with one foot inside the meeting room and the other in the corridor, calls out for both your names.

"We're ready for you," Raul announces a sense of urgency in his voice. He holds the door open, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

You exchange a quick glance with Jack, seeking reassurance, a silent confirmation that he'll follow through and both of you follow Raul into the conference room. The door shuts softly behind you, filling the room with the only sound. Your gaze sweeps the room, and you take in the white conference room with its black and white marble table in the middle and the soft glow of natural light.

Feeling a wave of emotions crashing over you, you instinctively shut your eyes for a few seconds to compose yourself. This is a lot harder than I expected... the thought lingers in your mind. Dr. Navarro's words echo in your memory, urging you to relax through the simple act of breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, you repeat silently, allowing the rhythmic inhalation and exhalation to steady your racing heart.

Choosing your chair carefully, you opt to sit with your back facing the window. It provides a sense of security and shields you from external distractions allowing you to solely focus on Jack. Your hand reaches out and lands upon one of the gray roll-on chairs, its smooth leather headrest cool against your fingertips. 

On the opposite side of the table, Jack is reluctantly guided by Raul to his designated seat. Oh, I can sit wherever I damn well please, he scoffs silently, but I suppose I can play by the rules for now. Just think about all the appointments with Dr. Reynolds and what-if scenarios. Don't mess this up. He takes a seat, begrudgingly accepting the arrangement, while his back deliberately faces the door. The positioning serves as a physical reminder of the boundaries and emotional distance that have grown between the two of you throughout the years.

Raul takes a seat at the head of the table. Clearing his throat, he breaks the silence. "Thank you both for coming today. As you may already know, the purpose of this meeting is of utmost importance. Mr. Daniels, the reason my client-"

Jack interrupts, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and vulnerability. "Stop. I don't want this to be an official meeting. I just... I want," he glances at you, his eyes searching for understanding, "I just want you to do the talking, please." He knows he has no right to make demands, but he wants to talk with you directly, to bridge the gap between you, if even it's just for a moment.

Raul looks at you briefly, to see how you're doing. "My role is simply to facilitate the conversation," Raul responds, his voice assuring and tinged with a hint of anger. Maldito inútil malparido (Fuking useless bastard). This asshole hurt her so much. How dare he make demands? Raul is well aware of the pain Jack caused you. He was one of the first people you confided in about the divorce, and he naturally helped you with the process. Raul cashed in many favors to expedite the process which would usually take time. In fact, he stayed up all night to ensure that he could serve Jack the papers the morning after you left him.

Truth be told, Raul initially liked Jack when you first introduced him to your friends. However, as time went on and you grew more serious, Jack's repeated slips of the tongue and thoughtless actions made Raul's opinion of him sour. The final straw for Raul was when Jack couldn't even give you the wedding you deserved. Raul knew how much you loved Jack, so even though he could see through your forced smile when discussing the wedding details, he congratulated you both and sent a gift.

You meet Raul's gaze, conveying your appreciation for his support. "Raul, está bien. (Raul, it's okay.)" You say softly, recognizing his concern and knowing that you need to have this conversation directly with Jack.

With a nod, Raul settles back in his chair, allowing the focus to shift solely to the two of you. The room is filled with a charged silence. As you prepare to speak, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and decide how you want to phrase everything.

"My baby... my baby has Fanconi Anemia and needs a blood donor." You explain, your voice trembling with desperation. "No one in the family has been a close match. Even among friends, no one is a match. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that almost everyone I know has been tested, but a donor hasn't been found."

You pause, the weight of the situation making your heart hurt. "Just a month ago, we were hopeful. A match was finally found through the National Marrow Donor Program. We finally felt like we could breathe, but then she was involved in a severe car accident. She was T-boned by a drunk driver, and her car fell into a ditch, causing a traumatic brain injury. Thank God she's going to be okay, but unfortunately, her condition disqualifies her from being a donor."

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. "Now, we're back to square one, searching for a compatible donor, but it's going to take a long time again. Jack, I know you didn't love me or care about me, and I understand that you didn't want me to have the baby. But please, I'm begging you to get tested to see if you're a match. If you are, please consider donating."

A rush of emotions floods through you, a mixture of fear, vulnerability, and a glimmer of fragile hope. You gaze into Jack's eyes, desperately searching for a spark of compassion, a willingness to help. "I understand you still resent me for everything. If you do this, I promise it will be the last time I'll contact you. I won't ask for anything more. Please, Jack." 

Jack takes a moment to absorb your words, his eyes flickering with a complex mix of emotions. "What's their name?" He asks, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of longing.

"His name is Ángel." You reply softly, feeling a bittersweet ache in your heart.

Jack's eyes widen, and a myriad of emotions passes over his face. "Ángel." He repeats and although he can't quite replicate your pronunciation thanks to his accent, it's still beautiful to him.  "I have a son." He whispers, his voice barely audible.

A flood of thoughts and emotions washes over Jack, overwhelming him. He shuts his eyes momentarily, attempting to process everything. This newfound knowledge stirs something deep within him, a sense of responsibility and a longing to be a father. I lost a son before he was born, I missed out on Ángel’s life when I said I didn’t want him, but I won’t lose him again. 

With determination in his voice, Jack looks at you. "I'll donate. I’ll do whatever it takes to help Ángel.”

He’s going to do it, you let out a sigh of relief. The alleviation that surges through you, washes away some of the anxieties that had been weighing you down. You're grateful that Jack is willing to take this step, to offer his help for the sake of your son. However, before you can express your gratitude, Jack's questions pour out in a rush.

“But... what is Fanconi Anemia? How bad is it? Is the procedure going to hurt him? Does he need surgery? What if I’m not a matc-" his voice trails off, uncertainty and concern etched on his face.

Realizing his anxieties, you reach out and gently interrupt him, calling his attention. "Jack," you say softly, trying to soothe his worries. "Breathe."

"I'm sorry. I forgot to explain Ángel's condition. His doctor was supposed to join us, but I can explain for now."

You take a deep breath, grateful that Jack is willing to help. "Fanconi Anemia is a rare condition where the bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells." You explain, your voice filled with sadness. "Ángel was diagnosed fairly recently because he didn’t have any physical abnormalities. But then, he started experiencing frequent nosebleeds, which was weird to us. We took him to his Pediatrician, who ordered blood tests. The results showed abnormally low blood counts, and that's when we knew something was wrong."

A twinge of admiration and pride fills your words as you continue. "He underwent a bone marrow needle biopsy to confirm the diagnosis. It wasn't an easy procedure, even though they numbed the area. I could see the discomfort in his eyes, but he never complained. In fact, he saw that my eyes were red and swollen, and he reassured me that he didn't even feel it. I knew it was a lie, but he just wanted to protect me."

Your voice trembles with a blend of love and admiration as you speak of your son's strength. The memories of his bravery since before his official diagnosis fills your heart with both pride and a deep ache. You pause for a moment, to regain your composure.

You are about to explain more about his condition and the procedure when the door behind Jack opens. Jack's gaze is solely focused on you since he assumes his son's doctor is the one coming in. Suddenly, you have a smile on your face when you look over Jack's shoulder, and he's confused until he hears the voice of the man that has given him nightmares ever since he got served with divorce papers.

“Cariño, Danny, and Heidi are staying with Ángel now,” Javier says as he makes his way to you, his presence a comfort for you and unease for Jack. "Sorry I'm late, I wanted to stay to see if he could keep his food down." He hovers over you and kisses the top of your head.

He pulls out a chair next to you, and that's when Jack sees it – a wedding band on Javier's left ring finger.

Fuck.

Unconsciously, you pull your hand from underneath the table and place your left hand on Javier's for comfort.

You had your hand covered the entire time, and that's when Jack notices it- your rings. 

Fuck.

You’re married to him? Jack seethes in his head.

“Jack.” Javier nods but Jack can’t respond. How can he respond when another man is married to the love of his life? 

In a moment of anger and hurt, Jack blurted out, "Did you cheat on me with him? Is that why you wanted a divorce?" Jack asks, the pain and jealousy bubbling to the surface.

Just like that, some of the gratitude for Jack shatters.

The response from you was immediate, “Jesus, no, you asshole,” you spit out, offended. “How dare you ask that?”

“You didn’t love me. That’s why I divorced you." You retort, feeling the anger resurface.

At that moment everything he discussed with Dr. Reynolds, all of the progress was gone. He did just find out so much within the past few minutes, and his usual coping techniques seemed to fail him in this moment of overwhelming emotions.

“Wait, if you cheated on me with him, that means he could have been the one to knock you up. How do I know Ángel is my son?” Of course, you remarrying was killing him, but if that on top of having his son snatched when he just got him back, it would end him.

“I never cheated on you, Jack.” You spit out, offended. “You were the one that was involved in another relationship, even if it was emotional. Not me. Don’t make me the villain.”

"You’re Ángel’s biological father, Jack." You emphasized, hoping to dispel any doubts he had. But he seemed stuck in his head.

Biological, the word echoed in his ears. It was a harsh reminder that he was just the man who contributed to Ángel's DNA. He hasn't been his dad, and if he keeps this up, he will never know his son like he wants to.

"You want a paternity test? Done," you offered, wanting to rid his doubts. "But if you don’t want to take my word for it, Fanconi Anemia is an inherited disease. Ángel has the FANCR gene, which is autosomal dominant. I got screened for it, and I’m not a carrier. Autosomal dominant means that a gene from one parent can cause the genetic condition. If I didn’t pass the gene, that means you’re the carrier. That’s how Ángel got the disease."

The reality hit him like a ton of bricks. I did this to my son. He’s sick because of me.

The room falls silent, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. The pain and guilt wash over him, and Jack is overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Querida, calm down. This isn’t good for you. Te va ser daño. (It’s going to harm you.) This isn’t good for the baby," Javier tries to soothe you, his voice gentle and caring. Javier's dark eyes bore into Jack with rage. Jack can feel the anger emanating from your husband. Javi leans forward, his body language asserting his presence. His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck visibly tense, and his hands grip the edge of the table as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

The baby? Jack thinks.

The hospital is always cold, which is why you always have a sweater with you, but right now, you feel like you're burning up. You lean back from the table and unzip your hoodie, instantly feeling cooler with your sweater out of the way.

Jack's eyes are drawn to your swollen and round stomach, and he's speechless.

Extended note: Just as I thought, Jack is more popular than Dave, so in the meantime, I'll be working on the graphics for this series instead of Eres Mía. Dave is one of my top 3 favorite Pedro characters, and I think he's highly underrated, but I get the love for the cowboy! 

I'm slowly adding titles of fics that I plan on sharing, so if you see something without a link on my masterlist, I'll get to it (eventually). After this series is completed, I think I'll post another Whiskey one-shot (he's been to therapy in this one :), but I'm not too sure yet.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them!

Tag list: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy

[dilfs-bitch]

Again | Jake Sully (nsfw)

Pairing : Jake Sully X Recom female reader ( human before )

Warnings : Mention of coronel Miles Quaritch, Neytiri, Tsu'tey. mention of death, cheating, age gap { Reader in her early twenties, Jake in his late thirties } p in v sex { Reader is virgin } masturbation { fem receiving } mentions of angst (not too graphic, but a warning all the same!

Word acount : 6k

Summary : After you die, Jake never thought he’d see you again, but after fifteen years, the RDA brings " you " back.

I apologize in advance if there are grammatical errors. English is not my first language, and I wrote this with the help of the translator.

Chapter two

Jake was going crazy.

It was no longer a secret to the clan or Neytiri how close he was to you in recent months, and part of him didn’t care to hide it.

Not after fifteen years away from you, he would never forgive himself, no matter how hard he tried, that feeling that he’d done something wrong was there every time he remembered your face, that lifeless face that haunted him for years.

He met you still on earth, despite you being much younger than him, you two used to hook up and even though you two never had a serious relationship, it was much more than just sex. And then everything happened so fast, his twin brother dies on the same planet you’re also going to, then he has no other option besides accepting the invitation that was extended to him. 

You were the Colonel’s squad and do what he told you to do, while Jake was in the Avatar program trying to learn more about the Na'vis, not even he realized how it happened but you two grown apart and even though he would never admit, he knew that Neytiri was the reason. 

So you take orders and don’t think twice about destroying the Hometree, he never understood but also can’t blame you. You were never the most civilized person he knew, but you certainly didn’t have a bad heart, so all your emotionlessness about the lives you took away was some kind of punishment for him. 

He tried, eywa knows he tried to change your mind, but you’ve always been stubborn and now that Quaritch had manipulated you, he knew there was no turning back, but Jake still wanted to know why you were doing this, and he never was able to forget the anger, the pain in your eyes, the betrayal in your voice when you say that was because he was able to betray his own race, betray the woman he said he loved for a Na'vi he met months ago. On that day, Jake didn’t have much time to argue because you’d been hit in the chest by Neytiri’s sharp arrow.

He couldn’t hate her because all she was doing was protecting her people, her planet, but there's a part of him that would never forgive her for killing you, the woman he was in love with.

Moving on was difficult, he was grief for your death, being haunted by your lifeless face and all the memories you two had together, but Neytiri was there, so thoughtful to him that it did not take long for that attraction to become something more, then they mated she was now his mate and Jake becomes the Olo'eyktan of the clan, bonds have been forged in fire and blood and years pass, he’s smarter, older and has a family now, but he wasn’t expecting the RDA goes so far creating recombinants with DNA from the deceased soldiers, Quaritch, and his squad was back but at this time he was more concerned about you, years later as recom.

He wondered if you’d remember him, Jake desperately wanted to know if you still would feel something when you saw him, despite being older, certainly not attractive as before, unlike you who despite your avatar features looked exactly like your human form, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Eywa never makes mistakes. Maybe that’s why you were taken to his hut with a big arm wound caused by Tsu'Tey’s arrow, he wouldn’t let another demon like you destroy his home, but he changes his mind when the ancient spirits surround you. Abusing his authority, the Olo'eyktan decides that you stay to learn more then you can go, Jake was not even thinking that letting you stay was risky, the RDA would look for you, but he can not avoid wanting to be near you even if you're avoiding him, even though some people of the clan was commenting or how their children asked why he spent so much time with you, Jake was not even caring about his mate’s jealousy, he loved Neytiri and that wasn’t a secret, but he loved you much more.

_________________

You were no longer yourself but still had the memories of your old self, and the same regret was there for the destruction that had caused to Pandora. 

Maybe it was a new feeling, or it was the old memories that clouded your mind every time you observe Jake, he looked different, older, yet attractive, but the anger was there maybe caused by the memories of how the feelings he said he had for you meant nothing, the anger was also there for Neytiri, this was not a memory but a video that the General Ardmore showed you at the time of your death and perhaps the worst part was that the man who claimed to love you was with her leaving your lifeless body for the RDA.

Revenge is the only reason you decide to stay, but the real, ultimate indignity of it all is that was those old memories that seemed to betray you or Pandora’s breathtaking beauty, but it didn’t seem fair to destroy the planet once again, any part of you wanted to hurt Jake Sully or is it some kind of illness, an infection that has taken hold you, perhaps it was those ancient spirits that surrounded you in the Omaticaya forest that have bewitched you, any option no matter how stupid it seems was better than admitting that once again you are being betrayed by your own feelings.

“ Utral Aymokriyä, is the tree of voices, if you connect your queue here we can hear the voices of our ancestors "

You close your eyes as your tail coiled tightly low around your leg, trying to refrain from the wave of anger that runs through your body as you hear the Olo'eyktan’s voice, his interest in showing you some more of life in Pandora infuriating you. Annoyed you how he made sure to teach you bow and arrow, he always wanted to be the one to teach you more of the tradition of the Omaticaya clan, and you didn’t like being around the Sully and even less how his voice sounded every time he taught you something like he was happy to be teaching you more about their customs, not even your fiercest scowl seem to discourage his attempts to converse with you.

And even though that was one of the most beautiful places that you had already seen, it didn’t feel right to be in a sacred place, not after all you do to Pandora.

" Are you okay ? " He slowly approaches and reaches out to touch your shoulder.

The feeling of his hand makes you open your eyes, quickly hissing and moving away. Jake is at least startled that was the first time you hissed at him, a bold move considering he was now the Olo'eyktan of the clan, but he walks away feeling your anger and not wanting to start the argument he’s been avoiding for months.

" Don’t touch me " You say, staring at him with furrowed eyebrow

You don't quite understand the reason for the reaction, although you don't regret it, preferring to believe it was just the pent-up anger that happened years ago. Your heart leaps at the thought that the real reason for your overreaction is that you missed his touch and not know how to react to it. You want to get out of there, you want to move your feet and get out of that tension that quickly built up ten times worse than before, you want to escape his gaze on your neck like a weight but you can't.

Jake eyed you carefully, his mind clouding with one of the memories of you two together just when they arrived in Pandora, he didn’t remember pretty well the reason but you were jealous, a wide smile on his face remembering that you did exactly what you did now, and Instinctively he found himself making the same move he did that night holding your hand still much smaller than his own, he expects you to do exactly what you did that night but you keep standing there because your body is betraying you, and you don't really want move away from his touch which him take as encouragement, stepping closer behind you.

Jake just stands there his chest pressed against your back while he stayed there waiting for you to calm down, he doesn’t know what to do, but when he realizes Jake’s already nesting his nose against your soft hair, his heart thump against his rib cage and something in his lower belly leap you still smell so good that he is almost purring with the familiar scent, one of his ears tremble, and his tail coiled under your ankle

He cursed himself when your body leaps turning away from him turning to stare at him with the same angry gaze as before your furrowed brows, embarrassed now Jake feels his ears flatten back as he expects you to insult him as you did in all the other times he dared to try to touch you, and yet you remain quiet and Jake swears he can see how your gaze looks a little different now but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t decipher. 

"Stop, stop doing that, " You say poking his large chest with your index finger causing him to lurches back " That’s wrong, you have family, a mate. " 

He tilts his head to the side as if he's trying to figure out what you’re just saying and then something clicks in his mind, you realized what he was doing from the beginning even though it was Instinctively, Jake was trying to make you his mate.

He made sure to teach you personally everything about the clan, and he was not hard on you as he was with the others, Jake even let you speak as you wanted with him. He never stopped loving you but he never thought you realized his true intentions, he never thought that would work, that it that gaze so different was because you wanted him too, maybe not as your mate but you wanted him and your annoyance was obvious cause you to disapprove his actions and he also but couldn’t help himself. He loved you more than his mate, he wanted you to be the mother of his children, Jake wanted to change your mind that day because it would save him years of suffering for you. 

He doesn’t notice what he’s doing until he walks up to you holding your face tight stopping you from moving, your heavy breathing as your eye focusing on anything behind him, so you don’t have to look into his eyes, would be too much when you tried for months not to fall in love with him again.

" I wanted to say I’m sorry for betraying my own race but I don’t, my only regret was betraying you, letting you die. Maybe I’ll regret later for doing what I’m gonna do now but I’m not thinking very well, I don’t think clearly since I saw you, the woman loves most in all my life"

Your tail lashes, the irrational part of you content to hear what Jake says. It feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulder, your heart lurches as he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours, and Instinctively you close your eyes, feeling the positively scorching soft touch of his finger caressing against the skin of your cheeks, your stomach gives a kind of nervous tremor at the thought of why he is doing it, your brain almost stops completely when he leans press a kiss on your lips.  

For a split seconds, Jake panics when you don’t kiss him back, and he pulls back only to be surprised by your smaller hands wrapping around his waist as you insistently kiss his lips, nibbling lightly, and he hums and purrs against your mouth. It’s frantic, passionate, and overwhelming, and your eyes practically roll when you allow him to kiss you with his tongue. 

When one of his big hands falls from your face to the bottom of your thighs and envelops the tender flesh there pulling you up, you release a kind of gasping embarrassing moan against his mouth as your leg winds against his waist, It seems the apex of all his hopes and desperate dreams over the past few months, and Jake can't hardly believe that he’s kissing and touching you like that after all these years, it feels like a dream. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel the soft bioluminescence moss of the ground against your back, cursed yourself when he pulls back, and you chase his lips, Jake just chuckles, lowering his head to kiss your neck, humming with satisfaction when you tilt your head to the side enough so that he sucks the skin there, your eyes widen in shock because you don't know how to react with the new feeling that shivers your whole body. He pulls back, hovering over you, his pupils are blown wide, his tail caressing provocatively your legs. When he holds your hips tight, forcing his growing length under his loincloth against your open legs, you gasp on how big he is and once again he just chuckles resting his head against your sternum pulling the fabric of your white tank top down.

His tongue is gentle, sliding from your breast over one of your nipple, sucking and circulating his warm tongue there, you arch your back allowing him to do because the feeling is so good that you groan his name, his amber eyes shoot to glance your face of pleasure your body squirm beneath him and Jake tongue goes out to lick your other nipple. You were so beautiful, furrowed eyebrows, mouth slightly open, that drop of sweat that was already beginning to form on your forehead.

" I’ll make you feel good, ma tìyawn "

The sound of Jake's low voice goes directly to your cunt that pulses eagerly with promise and with the affectionate nickname of his voice, a smug smile grows on his face when he realizes it is your scent that lingers in the air tells him how much you like it, and he does it again just to feel your sex throb as he rubs on you.

" You like it when I call you ma tìyawn, don’t you? He whispers, burying his face in your neck, " I feel it "

Even though he’s not seeing anything all you can do is nodded quickly, your cunt clenching around nothing once again hearing his words, your throbbing clit the sodden fabric of its slick folds starts to become a little uncomfortable, so you push his hips with your knee so that he moves away taking his hand up to your cargo pants hoping that he does something and Jake's quick to quickly grope the button to unzip the pants pulling them over your ankle. Your legs close in the failed attempt to avoid his lust gaze but a pair of his strong hands effortlessly keep them apart, that makes you a little embarrassed, slight flushing spreading down your cheeks

" Don’t hide Y/n, I want to see, " he says, a smile playing on his lips as his fingers search for your neglected clit.

You let out a soft sigh as his fingers circled your clit, and he leaned once again your small hands holding his face, kissing him again. Your lips moved against him slowly with more delicacy than before, the burning sensation in his abdomen consuming him, your hands exploring his back down to his waist when you undid the ties of his loincloth releasing his hard cock the leaking tip with pre-cum, Jake is quick to move his fingers to your entrance pushing one finger stretching you out, and you break the kiss choking with burning a little pain there, nothing had entered there before. Your ears have now flattened once again when he stops noticing the discomfort on your face.

" I’m sorry ma tìyawn, I didn’t know " He kisses your temple. 

It only takes a few minutes for the pain to disappear, and you jerk your hips, and he quickly understands what to do, Jake focused his thumb on your clit slowly slides two fingers, splitting you open to what was to come. When he felt you adjusting to him, he started fucking you with his fingers, pumping in and out of your wet center, the already overwhelming sensation that your cunt clenching around his fingers your mouth open in a silent moan when he sucks your nipples and grind his cock against your thigh. The pleasure becomes almost too much, grabbing his biceps for some kind of comfort and his muscles flexing over your soft touch, and that makes the coil in his stomach tenser with the simple touch of your hands.

But then he draws his fingers away from your entrance, looking deep into your eyes waiting for any kind of doubt but all Jake finds are the aroused lust and what he swears to be the same gaze that you has when you looked at him when you were in love, your eyes soften guiding his painfully hard cock to your entrance, pushing the tip in. With your hot and wet sex engulfing him, he realizes that stretching hurts when your eyes water, Jake is quick to kiss you to give you some kind of comfort, you’re sucking him greedily anyway, panting with the feeling of being filled, and when he finally got to the bottom, his tight balls rested against your ass and the tip in of his cock poked you cervix, making a needy moan come out of your mouth when you break the kiss with a string of drool.

" Please Jake " a whine came out from you.

He moans, needing no more incentive than that starting to come out of you, before pushing back and setting a slow pace immediately, his big hands grab your thighs, and you circle your legs around his hips getting a better angle, your tits swaying when his hips meet yours, his cock reaching even deeper inside you and your hands were desperately grabbing his back needing something to hold on to, and it hit him like a wave, the most intense feeling he’s ever experienced years ago has filled his body again, his heart, his head, is everywhere, it was not the bond of tsaheylu, but Jake could say it seemed way much more intimate than that just from you heavily gaze into his eyes he knew that you could feel his love, the regret, the need he had for you and the pain he endured in the last years. 

" I like you Jake " You murmured, holding his back tighter.

The captivating sound of your voice matching what you just said made his heart skip in a beat. The feeling was overwhelming, he could never have denied his feelings towards you, his cock pounding in your tight cunt without stopping and a slight change in the angle made the tip of his cock hit that spongy spot inside you all the time, making you say his name as a prayer, your euphoria starting to form in the inside lower part of your stomach.

" I love you so much ma tìyawn " he gasped in your sensitive ear, making the two squirm at the confession.

He could feel he was near but he wanted you two to came together, his finger circling your clit rudely and his hips stuttering against yours is enough, your walls clinging so tightly that he only manages to bury deeper into you with one last thrust causes your vision to darken and his muscles to relax when your body trembles beneath him, when Jake groans your name tirelessly and fills you with his sperm hot and thick. His breath is heavily, and he buries his face into your neck, kissing there, enjoying the warmth of their sweaty and overworked bodies before rolling off over you with his slowly dripping sperm.

He lay in his back, now pressed against the soft moss of the forest, your eyes closing and Jake smiles pleased as you seem exhausted completely, he pulls his arms over your shoulder pulling you closer, and you are quick to nest your face against his chest, still bright. Your tail curling over his ankle when you fall asleep. And for a moment he doesn't know exactly what to do, so he decides to rest a little and then in the morning would handle the situation.

[daughter-of-prospero]

Jonah Rant

Someone on Youtube reminded me that I rage-typed an essay-length tirade about Jonah Magnus and his status as a certified Bastard Man right after the finale. They asked if there was a chance they could see it, which was a good question because did I even still have it? Turns out: Yes! It’s evidently been chilling in Onedrive for ~2 years. So for those who wish, my thoughts regarding that awful little man are below.

Spoilers for The Magnus Archives.

I went into the finale fully ready to not hear from Jonah again. I thought ‘oh, cosmic horror, as important as he thinks he is, he’s inconsequential and John just zaps him with eye lasers or something’. I didn’t want it per se, but I thought it was plausible.

But no. Oh no. Jonah Magnus speaks again, and he hasn’t been around for all of season 5. We heard him on a recording and we heard him chanting in the background and also all distorted in a job interview flashback, but there has been no actual uncompelled words being spoken by Jonah Magnus in real time since 159.

Yes he wrote the incantation but, rather crucially, he did not read it.

I binged TMA right as it got up to the season 4 finale. I got through season 1 in one day, and season 2 the next, and then got through three and four in the days after that. I caught up just in time for 160 to drop.

So I, foolish, naïve baby that I was, had over a year to forget what this character actually sounded like, and just how much of a slimy, insufferable fucker Jonah Magnus is. Was. Bitch.

I’ve gone into this elsewhere so I won’t belabor it but one of the reasons I’m so viscerally miffed by him is because of every human character in this podcast, he is the only one that is never shown sympathetically. I’m not counting Nikola Orsinov, or NotThems, or other manifestations of the Entities. I mean of the human, or avatar-human characters he is the least grey. Morality in this show is complex and tough to think about in my brain and one of the great ways it does this is through having really layered characters with motivations that are, at least a little, understandable. Jude Perry was a violent, sadistic lady...she was also devoted to Agnes and in some ways I think you could argue they were each other’s only links to humanity until what’s-his-name came along. Coffee shop Himbo guy. Peter Lukas is a misanthrope to the max who will send people into a nether realm if they so much as look at him wrong – which is to say, look at him at all. He was also raised to know nothing but loneliness, and pursuing it was kind of the only way he ever got some sort of approval. Which also manifested as more distance.

We get these little nuggets of what brought a villain where they are now, and we certainly don’t have to excuse them, but we have some context. We have some understanding that there is humanity in there, and that understanding makes them all the more unsettling.

Not fuckin’ Jonah.

What do we know about him? He’s a couple centuries old. Great. He found out about the powers, was drawn to the eye, and decided to start body-hopping to cheat death. He’s been doing this for ages. He tried a ritual and it failed. He took his time then, plotting and planning, and being smug, and finally arriving at a hypothesis that had a lot of credence to it. Everything fell into place, he was right, its all or nothing with the entities but the Eye rules because it opened the door (or WHATEVER).

So his big motivator is he doesn’t want to die.

And you know what, this is super understandable. We don’t know what his childhood was like (Jesus, can you imagine him in a little powder wig, climbing a tree to get a high vantage point to spy on people and get blackmail on them?), but fear of death is almost universal.

And of all the billions of people on this planet, I cannot help but notice that we are not thwarting narcissistic necromancers every fifteen minutes. Because the world would have fucking exploded a long, long time ago if we had more Jonahs in it. i.e. the people who would make aggressive selfishness a full-time occupation.

There’s a sort of cocktail of shit that makes him a memorable baddie not the least of which is that he never even attempts to justify his abhorrent actions. He’s not lying to himself, or anyone else, he’s not serving a cult, or a bunch of worms. He’s in it for himself, and if he has to stack the corpses of every living thing on the planet to reach immortality he’ll fucking do it without hesitation. Couple that with his manipulations, his merciless psychological torture, and a low, smooth voice that is always so infuriatingly composed and you have a Hell of a villain.

(I maintain that one of the reasons he’s so effective is that he enunciates so carefully. He doesn’t run words together, or mumble, he never really raises his voice, he is always in control, and everything is a flex right down to the articulation. I feel like we associate crisp, clear speech with formality, presidential addresses, or theater, things like that. Where you know what you are going to say and so the recitation is more confident. We hear this happen in statements, to a certain extent, but there’s still a lot of emotional range. For 199 episodes we never heard Jonah lose this pointed, smarmy tone. People don’t talk so formally in life, or when they’re talking on the podcast. There is something unsettling and intimidating about hearing such clear and confident speech all the time. It sounds like he knows exactly what to say in any situation. It sounds like he is utterly confident in every word that leaves his mouth. It sounds like he’s in a scene and no one else got the script but him. Because that is kinda what’s going on. At the very least, he thinks that’s what’s going on)

When he drops from wherever he’s suspended in the panopticon, he, you know, sort of makes a noise because that’s gotta be jarring. And we for once, for once, for fucking ONCE hear him even vaguely uncertain. And stupido io, I thought he was finally brought low and we might get a tantrum or something.

But no. Jonah Magnus has a lot of lost time to make up for, it’s been 20 eps since he’s been able to serenade everyone with his unique brand of horny arrogance. This motherfucker has exactly a millisecond of confusion and grogginess before “I was having the most...wonderful dream”. You can hear him edging.

And he’s kiiiiind of surprised to see John by himself with a knife, but still, so blasé, so, ‘oh, is that all?’ He’s a liiiiitle regretful to hear it’s over, but immediately heads into waxing rhapsodic about seeing a thousand lifetimes and the rapture of infinite sight and suffering and other Hellraiser shit when John speaks for all of us and tells him to shut up. Yet another reason to respect him.

And John has a lovely little catharsis where he gets to tell this orchestrator of his despair that Jonah has failed because the Things that Jonah is so devoted to will die a slow death. How long has he been waiting to say that, do you think? I mean at this point there’s nothing that could do what he’s probably feeling justice but he says it himself he gets some satisfaction from “knowing that I’ll be leaving these things that you serve trapped and starving in their own private hell.”

And all Jonah has to say is: “That we serve.” To the bitter, bitter end he is determined to just...okay I was gonna say twist the knife but that seems a bit tasteless now...determined to cause even more hurt. He cannot resist, it’s kind of all he knows. He is at the edge of a cliff and taunting the person that’s about to push him off of it.

And if you ever need a posterchild for ‘hubris’ just pull up a sound clip of Jonah Magnus. He tries to play the old ‘alright, playtime’s over,’ card, brushing the dust and what-the-fuck-ever else off his suit and manipulate John again. He has the...not even audacity, he’s looped back around from being semi-omniscient, to being so confident in that omniscience he thinks he knows everything and therefore acts way more stupidly than someone without that surety. He is enough of a dipshit to try and say to John “we both know you don’t have it in you”.

Motherfucker, what have you been doing for this entire season? What have you been doing this entire show? You have purposefully created someone who has withstood the brunt of every entity and come out more or less intact. You purposefully guided him into honing his powers, and put him in a position where he has nothing to lose. Well, Martin, but Jonah can’t do anything about that. Not anymore. Because the one person who can protect Martin is coincidentally the same person who can, will, and reeeeeally wants to Kill Jonah.

“King of a ruined world and I shall never die” my ass. King? Really? You were a placeholder, my dude. The Eye didn’t give a fuck that you were at the top of the panopticon and it didn’t give a fuck when John pulled you out of it. You said it yourself, dipshit. You might have started the archives, but John IS the archives. He is the only person more powerful than Jonah and Jonah, of all people, should know this. Especially considering you could presumably see John cutting through the domains, dishing out biblical vengeance, on a warpath for your tower.

So of course, he decides to antagonize John even more if that is even possible by telling him they both know he can’t do it.

And John fucking punches him and it’s great. Extended sounds of brutal ass whooping, please and thank you.

And then we get one of two lines that sums up Jonah Magnus for me.

“P-please John, I don’t want to die”.

This guy. Who dedicated his several lives to ruling the world and feeding on everyone else’s pain. Who has committed atrocities that numerous to count and too horrible to name. Who is being confronted by the direct target of his machinations and who, I think it’s safe to say, hates him more than anyone or anything else in existence. Has the absolute fucking nerve to go “but I’m scared :(”

When he went ‘I don’t want to die’ I actually said to literally no one because I was alone in my room “HA, Fuck you.”

John puts it a bit more eloquently. “Neither did they”. Beautiful. And then he’s gutted like the repulsive little fish he is.

The second line that sums up this insufferable megalomaniac is a little earlier. It’s casual, neither of them makes a point of it. Maybe because it’s a little redundant. “Empathy only holds you back in the end”.

I don’t want to die, and Empathy only holds you back in the end.

I mean, that’s the thesis statement of the shit-eating essay that is Jonah Magnus.

He’s so far beyond regret, or anything that isn’t 100% self-motivated he cannot perceive that perhaps John will have maybe, I don’t know, changed a bit. Gotten used to horror. Killed. He cannot fathom anything outside the tower as more than a food source. He is so used to seeing people as pawns he dies not actually understanding why John killed him. “Good luck” are his last lines.

First of all, the direction is ‘wetly’ and on the one hand I know what that means, but on the other, I cannot think of a more fitting adjective to end on with this guy.

Second of all, the ambiguity of how sincere he is or isn’t being is enraging, and so classic and I hate him, which is to say fucking excellent job of writing and acting both.

He goes to his grave thinking John’s making a power grab. He cannot conceive of any other reason for John doing what he’s doing. They’re opposite ends of the spectrum. One who can think of no one but himself, and one who will sacrifice himself because he’s thinking of everyone else. You know how matter can’t be created or destroyed? I think guilt might be the same way. And Jonah found a handy receptacle for all the guilt he doesn’t have time for and that receptacle is named Jonathan Sims head Archivist of The Magnus Institute.

What a good villain. What an infuriatingly mellifluous bitch. The thinks he’s King of the World, he thinks he’s going to get such special treatment, he thinks consequences apply to everyone but him, he thinks this is a game he can win when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s playing.

As much as he looked at John and went “perfect, an insecure idiot”, the Web looked at him and went “perfect, a pompous ass”. He wanted to live forever, but now he’s dead. And he doesn’t even get to live on in memory. No one knew he was up there. No one remembered Elias, let alone Jonah. You think Georgie, Melanie, Rosie, and Basira are going to tell the world about him? What would be the point?

Congratulations, Jonah. You tried to ensure your immortality and ended up ensuring that you died both literally and figuratively. Before it got yeeted into another dimension The End must have had a fucking Field Day the second his heart stopped beating.

What a bastard. What an unfathomable bastard. Like he really thought this would all work out for him, that he was the most Important Thing in the world when, at best, at best he was a glorified fucking contact lens.

Ass.

[kodydrs]

- make ‘em jealous

a/n : WHERE MY BLUE LOCK BABES AT?? This is a one-shot I wrote abt 2 years ago and it was originally on Wattpad but got removed 😭 I do hope it gets love on here

warnings : cheating!reader, cheating!Rin, aged up!Rin, oral (m. receiving), p in v, riding, cheating, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, not proofread, I’m bad at tagging

Y/n & Rin had dated for nearly a year when she caught him. 1 week off their 1st anniversary. She just wouldn't have expected such a thing to happen with Rin.

'Rin?' Y/n called from the door. After dating for 11 months, Y/n had learned it was usually OK to let herself in. Rin's parents had even gone through the extra work to get her an extra key. 'Rin?'

She took off her shoes and left them at the door, walking onto the carpet in her socks. The house was silent, except for the Itoshi family cat which brushed against her legs.

'Hello, hun.' Y/n cooed, picking up the black feline. 'Where's daddy at?' The cat meowed quietly and headbutted her chin. 'Well, that isn't very helpful.'

Y/n laughed, kissing the cat's head before putting it back down on the carpet. The cat meowed again and walked down the hall towards Rin's room. Y/n smiled, following the animal. As she got closer to Rin's room, she could hear the quiet shuffling of fabric and that confused her. 'What's he doing?' Without a sound, she peered through the crack of his door, her heart dropping and blood running cold. F/n? F/n with Rin? Y/n grabbed her mouth to prevent noise from coming out and she watched silently. Watched as her best friend made out with her boyfriend.

She felt sick. It wasn't until she saw F/n straddle his waist that she finally looked away.

'Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck is going on?' She shook her head as if it would erase what she saw. As if it was just something she was imagining.

'Fuck… Rin~' Y/n's whole body froze hearing her friend moan.

'That dumb bastard.' Y/n looked up, seeing Sae standing at the bottom of the stairs. 'I told him she had to keep her out today.'

'Y-You knew?' Y/n whispered. Sae nodded.

'She's been coming around for a few weeks now. Usually when you're away for school trips or he's at some soccer event.'

'So this isn't the first time?'

Sae shook his head. 'Nope.'

Y/n sworn you could've seen her heart shatter. But she stood up, wiped her face, and with every intention of interrupting them, she turned to their door. She didn't make it because Sae grabbed her waist and pushed her against the wall on the other side of the hall.

'S-Sae? What are you doing?' She still whispered, but a hint of urgency in her tone.

'Don't let them know you're here. Let Rin do his thing. It's his problem.'

'So you think I should just let them have sex as if I'm not even here?! That sounds like a mighty fine idea.'

Sae leaned down till she could feel his breath on her ear. 'Make him jealous.' A shiver spiked down her neck.

'W-what do you mean?' She stuttered.

'You know what I mean.' He whispered, gently kissing her neck. She sighed, her back arching so her ass pressed against his crotch. The soft groan that came from his mouth was ecstasy. 'Let's go upstairs.'

Y/n nodded, following him quietly. Sae's room was different from Rin's, although it had the same design. While Rin's room was overloaded with soccer, Sae had minimalistic posters of artists and movies. Y/n noticed 2 posters in particular that she liked the most. It was a poster of the band, TV Girl, and one of Howl’s Moving Castle. Sae wasn't exactly the type of person you'd expect to have photos of bands and films, but it was a nice touch.

'Do you like their music?' Sae asked after noticing her staring at the poster a little too long. She nodded with a smile.

'They’re an amazing band. And Howl is a beautiful boy.' She smiled. Something about this room made her forget about her problems downstairs.

'Do you like beautiful boys, Y/n?' Sae leaned against his door frame while Y/n was on the bed. She blushed pink but nodded.

'I think most people are pretty in their own way, but there's a few that cut above the rest. just happens to be one of them.'

'Mhmm. Is Rin a pretty boy?'

She hesitated, thinking about what she saw downstairs. 'No. He was, but people lose their beauty if they lose their respect.'

Sae nodded, walking over to Y/n and caging her between his arms. 'So am I a pretty boy?'

She didn't have time to answer before he pressed his lips on her. She reciprocated his movements, both falling into sync. Y/n gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer to her. She could've sworn Sae smiled.

They parted eventually and Y/n looked up at the red-head. 'Do you want me to blow you?' Sae's expression remained calm and he shrugged.

'If you want to.'

Y/n nodded, switching positions with Sae so he was sitting on the bed and she was in front of him. She patiently sat in her knees with her hands gently resting on her lap while Sae undid his jeans.

Y/n swallowed hard when his erection sprung out. He was longer than Rin, but they were about the same in girth.

'It may seem embarrassing to admit, but I do live with Rin, so I know I'm bigger.' Sae said, the usual softness to his voice as if he were talking about the weather.

She nodded, a sign she was agreeing with him. She shuffled forwards and placed her hands on either side of his pelvis before sucking on his tip. Sae watched, admiring her when she started taking more of him.

Y/n hollowed out her cheeks and relaxed her throat each time she took more of Sae's member into her mouth. She could already tell it would hurt her gag reflex, but she could ignore that for now. All she could focus on was Sae.

He moved a hand down to the side of her head and tucked the fly-aways behind her ear. He left his hand there, not forcing her to take more, but to steady her.

Her nose skimmed his crotch and she started moving back and forth. Sae sighed at the feeling of his cock moving down her throat, hot and wet.

Y/n wasn't your typical off the streets whore. She knew how to give a proper blow job. Sometimes she gets creative, going in different rhythms or humming at exactly the right time to send the vibration. She was changing up this time. Instead of constantly taking as much of him as she could, she would slowly reduce how much you had until she would just be lapping at the time before thrusting herself back down and starting again. This was driving Sae mad.

'Y/n…' He groaned. 'You're such a pretty girl.' She hummed, the vibrations making him flinch. 'Such a pretty girl.'

He gently pulled her off, leaning down to her level. 'Will you be a good girl as well and ride me?'

She stared at him, her lips glistening with saliva and pre-cum, but nodded. Sae moved back so he was leaning against the headboard and watched Y/n remove her sweats.

She stood at the end of the bed for a minute before moving next to Sae and straddling his waist. She clenched her lower areas when his cock hit her ass. She carefully lifted herself above him, then slowly let herself down. Her pupils dilated and she bit her lip to suppress a moan.

'You alright?' Sae asked, cupping her face. She nodded.

'It just hurts a little.' She winced. 'So just give me a minute.' Sae was patient. He didn't make her move or do anything she didn't want to. He just waited, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

'You're doing amazing, Y/n.' He whispered. She smiled and began moving. A jolt sent her whole body in shock when she went down.

'It's too fucking big.'

Sae threaded their hands together, continuing to kiss her hand while she squeezed his.

'Fuck~' She sighed, playing with her shirt hem with her free hand. 'It's hot.'

Sae picked up what she'd put down and shimmied his hands up her side. Her shirt followed, the male tossing it somewhere in the room.

'You look pretty hot like this, Y/n.'

'Mhm?' She hummed. Her stomach felt so tight. She looked down at Sae. 'Take your shirt off. It's unfair that I'm here ass-naked while you still have your clothes on.'

Sae laughed. It was a rare sight to see either of the Itoshi brothers laughing, but it was even rarer for Y/n to see Sae laugh. He obliged, pulling off his shirt and throwing it with hers. She took a minute to admire his anatomy before moaning loudly when he hit her sweet spot.

'Hmm? There, is it?' He grunted, gripping her waist. Y/n wasn't prepared when Sae thrust up into her, making her moan loudly. She was quick to cover her mouth, hoping that anyone else in the house hadn't heard.

'Are you embarrassed, Y/n?' Sae smirked. 'Are you embarrassed that Rin might hear you doing it up here with me?'

She shook her head quickly. 'N-No. He deserves it if he hears me.' Sae chuckled softly. He held her waist tighter and flipped them so he was on top of her.

'You won't mind me making you scream then, will you?' She gulped.

Sae Itoshi was known for his flawless appearance and cold personality. Y/n had realized after not long being around him that his personality was more of a lukewarm temperature. But seeing and hearing him now. The words that came from his mouth. Suddenly he was as hot as the sun.

Y/n leaned up, kissing him slowly while he thrust into her cunt. Rough moans and grunts mixed in their mouths, both feeling their climaxes building. She'd long forgotten about her boyfriend fucking her bestfriend downstairs. Now, her attention was only on the male inside her.

Sae had caged her in, one hand on the headboard while the other was beside her head. She'd wrapped her legs around his waist to help him focus on that one spot, and her nails scratched at his back, leaving marks that'd be red for the next few days.

Her back arched off the bed as she whimpered into his mouth. She pulled away. 'Fuck. Fuck. Sae. I'm gonna cum.' She moaned.

'Just a little longer, OK?' He asked, stroking the side of her face. She nodded shakily.

'P-Please don't cum inside.' Y/n begged. He nodded.

'Of course not.' She smiled lowly, resting her head on the pillow and focusing on delaying her climax.

She gathered handfuls of the sheets beneath her, her whole body being shaken from the inside when she came. She felt Sae pull out and cum on her stomach a few seconds after. Her vision went white momentarily, but when she came to, she stared up at him with hooded-eyes. He kissed her slow and gentle before getting up and retrieving a warm cloth to clean her up.

'Hey, Sae.' Y/n whispered, lying on the bed.

'Hmm?'

'You're a really pretty boy.'

He scoffed, helping her sit up and get dressed.

'Whatever you say, Y/n.'

A few hours later, Y/n and Sae sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee while talking about whatever when Rin and F/n came out laughing.

'Hey, Rin.' Y/n welcomed joyfully. Both froze, staring at her with shock. Rin looked from her to Sae and back to her.

'Y-Y/n. I thought you had classes today?' He stuttered.

'I did. But I finished and I've been here for about 3 hours.' She smiled behind him at her best friend before taking a sip from her mug.

'Oh. Ok.' Rin couldn't come up with a lie. He's put himself into a hole. 'F/n was just helping me with something.'

'Mhm.' Y/n nodded, placing her cup on the table. 'Was that something your raging boner?'

Both flushed red. Y/n just smiled. 'I'm breaking up with you, Rin.'

'What?! You can't do that!'

'I can do whatever I want.'

'Y/n.' F/n finally spoke. 'Please don't break up with him. I don't know what I was thinking. You guys are way too perfect for each other to break up.'

Y/n stood up and walked over to her friend, taking her hands. 'It's OK, F/n. You can have him. At the end of the day, I got the better Itoshi.' She winked and moved back to her seat.

Both Rin and F/n stood speechless, Rin staring at Sae. Y/n finished her cup and murmured, asking Sae if he was done with his. He nodded and she took both cups over and rinsed them.

'Anyways, I think that's me for the day. I'll let you 2 sort it out yourselves. Oh, and F/n?'

'Y-Yes.'

'Don't ever talk to me again ♡.'

Y/n left the house and walked down their street before turning back to see Sae standing on his balcony.

'See ya next time, Pretty Boi.' She shouted.

'It's bold of you to assume there'll be a next time.' Sae grinned. Y/n shrugged. She was his problem now.

[actiniumwrites]

𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎]

synopsis: the reasons why your relationship with them didn’t last, or in other words, the reason why you broke up

characters: albedo, kaeya, mona, yelan, zhongli, baizhu, itto, cyno, kaveh, and dainsleif x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: pure angst, hurt/no comfort, breakups, death, betrayal, etc

notes: um so nobody asked for this, but i needed to write something since it’s been awhile between writing posts. i did really enjoy writing the first part a while back and a lot of people liked it too. anyway, i’ve been busy with some oneshots, so enjoy this for now <3

(part one)

albedo:

alchemy mattered more than you

he had promised when you first got together that you would be his priority, and deep down, you believed it

now you just felt foolish

his time never involved you because it was always alchemy this and alchemy that

he’d disappear for hours on end to dragonspine and not even tell you

or the times where he would constantly talk about alchemy, and no matter how many times you had tried to tell him, you just couldn’t understand

you couldn’t help but feel lonely despite being with him

gradually, it all built up to be far too much for you to burden anymore

so one day, you wrote him a letter and gathered your things. if albedo wasn’t going to make time for you, you weren’t going to waste your time on him anymore

kaeya:

he could never fully be himself around you

for years he had avoided relationships because of his secrets and his history with the ragnvindr family

but when he met you, he thought he could give it a chance

he loved you, truly he did, but he just couldn’t open up

everything he wanted to say was always at the back of his mind, feeding into the desire to just spill all of his trauma and live freely

there was just always this unknown force, desperately keeping him from letting it all out — a fear of rejection and a mechanism to protect himself

secrets and lies weren’t what you deserved, and kaeya knew that

eventually he just let the distance grow, and when it got to be enough, he let you go

each and every day he regrets it, but he knows he can’t go back

mona:

she saw too far into the future

long ago she told herself she wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t ask the stars about you

but greed and curiosity got to her, and to her shock, mona was terrified by what she saw

no, you weren’t going to cheat or do anything bad. what she saw was worse

death

you were going to die and mona knew she wasn’t strong enough to witness it, especially not if she was emotionally bound to you

the relationship was relatively new enough that she was able to lie, say it “wasn’t working out.”

of course, you didn’t know any better and didn’t fight her on it. you were confused, but if that’s what she wanted, you weren’t going to waste your time

and for years after, she avoided you and any news of you like the plague

until one day, a newspaper landed on her doorstep

“mondstadt local found dead in tragic dragonspine accident.”

yelan:

you weren’t who you said you were, and she found out the hard way

the two of you had been together for years

she had met you at a market in liyue one day, and the two of you clicked right of the bat

she loved you more than anything

well, up until you began getting more and more suspicious

coming back late, leaving at random times in the night while she slept, going on suspicious jobs, not telling her who you were meeting with

one day she trailed you without you knowing. it was then that she discovered you were a spy from another nation, and the entire relationship was a lie

instantly, she caught you and turned you over to the millileth in a heartbeat

no tears were shed on either side

you were dead to her

zhongli:

the age gap was too big

while you weren’t younger than his physical age, you were certainly mentally younger

naturally, you knew his true identity, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to be with him

though, over time, you noticed the things you once got along about didn’t matter

more and more disagreements and arguments occurred — far too many for either of you to handle

you didn’t understand him as much as you thought you did, and he inevitably felt the same about you

one day he sat you down and you talked for hours in an attempt to fix things

but in the end, the decision to break up was the only mutual decision you could come to

baizhu:

you couldn’t bear his obsession with immortality

there were countless times you had tried to talk him out of it, but baizhu was stubborn

what was going to happen if he truly did achieve immortality? where would that leave you?

you hated the idea of him staying young forever while you grew old

in your eyes, that relationship would never last

you ignored the issue for a long time. although it caused him health problems, you knew he wasn’t going to just die on you

you kept telling yourself everything was fine when, honestly, it was far from it

an argument broke out between the two of you during a particularly stressful week

insults were tossed back and forth, and soon enough he tossed aside your concerns again too

“i’ve had enough of you’re incessant complaining! can’t you see i don’t care?” baizhu said. he didn’t mean it, but in the heat of the moment, the words came out of his mouth before he could think

“fine! if that’s how it’s going to be, you won’t have to worry about my ‘complaining’ anymore. i’m leaving. maybe one day you’ll see that you’re only hurting more people than helping them.”

itto:

he took you for granted

his personality was one of the first things you fell for when you met him

his warm and boisterous laugh, never ending jokes, childlike excitement

it was one that was unique to only him and rare to find amongst the rest of inazuma; people you considered to be far too serious

although, his personality proved to be a problem as time passed

arguments were never taken seriously, he couldn’t read the room, and you hated the way he couldn’t seem to value you as much as the gang mattered to him

and as aformentioned, itto struggled to take serious situations well…seriously

he brushed you off when you told him it didn’t feel like you were even dating, that you just felt like his best friend

and when nothing changed time and time again, you left

shinobu helped you pack your things with a pained expression on her face, for even she knew you had deserved better

cyno:

his work got in the way of things

cyno and you had a really great relationship with each other from the get-go

as stupid as they were, you loved his jokes. you loved how caring he was, even if it wasn’t always obvious. you loved his dedication and commitment to everything and everyone.

and he loved you equally as much, if not more

being the general mahamatra was not easy, however

he was constantly away at work and didn’t have a lot of time to spend with you

of course, he loved it when he could, but it wasn’t often, and that was hard on both of you

in the end, you both mutually decided to end things. it would be better to end things on a positive note than on a bitter one with hurt feelings, you decided, and he agreed

kaveh:

both of you were in different places in life

kaveh had a lot of leftover feelings to deal with from his early life, alongside his insane amount of debt and lack of stability in his life

you were still finding yourself, working toward your passions and always pushing upward

the relationship between you was one that had lasted for years. it felt like you had seen it all together.

but as you got older, things began to fall apart. you supported kaveh and he supported you, but neither of you were sure that a romantic relationship was something you could uphold at this point

there were no arguments or sour feelings at the end, just a bittersweet taste you both couldn’t shake

perhaps you could find each other again some day

dainsleif:

he couldn’t bear to involve you in his life

not in the sense that he didn’t want you in it, but because he struggled so much on a day to day basis with his curse and eternal karma

he didn’t want you to suffer too, or to feel like you were suffering from a relationship with him

not only that, but he was immortal and you were not

no matter what, things were never going to work out in his favor

to be honest, you weren’t even officially together

the lasting glances were there, sped up heartbeats around one another, a feeling of home too, but dainsleif knew it wouldn’t last

he could trick himself into believing he could have you all he wanted, but in there was no ending that let you be together

in the middle of the night one night, he got up from where he laid next to you and found the letter he had stored. the letter that detailed his pain and regret over having to end things, but the inevitability of it all

he placed it neatly on the side table next to the bed and kissed your forehead one last time

if there was any chance in the future he could return he would, but for now, dainsleif knew you were better off without him

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PART 1]

Don't ask me why I wrote chapter two literally a day after the first, it's a mix of the nice comments I got and the fact I'm enjoying myself more than I expected, haha.

Ghost crashes into his desk chair, throwing two folders on the table. One was the Sergeant’s report, which he had to go through and approve before forwarding to Price, and the other…

The other was Soap’s personal file. He technically didn’t have clearance for it anymore, but Price left it on his desk next to the report, and Ghost figured he won’t notice if it disappeared for a couple hours.

Besides… he was supposed to read it before the mission. He just didn’t care in the past.

Ghost opens the file, and immediately gets greeted by a picture of Soap. He’s younger and seemed to be holding back a smile for the photo. 

John “Soap” MacTavish. Somehow, Ghost can’t see how this fiery Sergeant shares a name with the captain.

The rest of the file is pretty standard. Born in Scotland (In a town Ghost never heard of), age 27, enlisted at 16. It gets more interesting when he reaches the Revenant section.

Or, whatever he can see from it. His Reaping, his first death, is completely blacked out. His powers list the explosion immunity and creation, but another line is censored. Ghost feels cheated of information - the amount of red tape around Soap would be concerning, if it didn’t make him that more intrigued.

He flips through his previous missions fairly quickly, not expecting much of it to be uncensored. Lad was SAS before dying, the reports are practically a solid block of black ink.

Ghost continues to the medical reports, fully intending to skip those as well, and he keeps flipping, and flipping, and flipping…

An icy hand grabs at his throat. Frowning, he slowly flips back.

The frozen feeling persists when he starts reading. 4 years ago, mission in Austria. Exposure to thermite explosion, 3 fingers missing and loss of motor function to his left leg. 11 months ago, C4 accident, right ear, eye, and majority of throat missing. 2 years ago, grenade explosion, massive damage to liver and stomach.

Combing through all records, Ghost took a moment to realize no medical procedure was noted. Which means Soap didn’t receive any.

He shut the folder.

Something different from the freezing horror he initially felt started rising within him. It was rage.

The personal folder gets thrown aside, and Ghost focuses on the mission report. Right. Perhaps this will shed more light on what Soap is capable of, because honestly right now he can’t bare thinking about how much damage the Sergeant suffered through any longer.

The report is well-written, as any soldier of Soap’s rank would be. Ghost enjoys seeing just how competent Soap was, clearing rooms at neck breaking speed. What catches his eyes is the reason the explosion at the warehouse happened.

He never did get an answer to that…

As it turns out, Soap did get spotted. But according to the report, it wasn’t a hostile that activated the explosive. No, Soap himself did that. The reason given is “estimated risk to Bravo 0-7”.

…Soap thought he was in danger?

Ghost racks his brain trying to understand why. Did he think Ghost didn’t clear the third floor yet? Did he think… they were going to alert backup?

And he decides to… blow himself up.

He hastily signs the document and grabs both folders. So much information, missing, blacked out, red tape stopping him from understanding. Ghost has long learned that he won’t, can’t understand everything, orders from higher up not to be questioned. But it has never bothered him more. 

Never left this feeling of missing out.

When Ghost reaches Price’s office, the light is on and a lingering smell of cigars wafts even through the closed door. Shit. He’ll have to explain how the amount of folders he took suddenly multiplied.

“Weird how that happens, doesn't it Ghost?” Price shouts from beyond the door.

Bloody hell his stupid mind reading powers can be a real pain in the-

“You better not finish that thought Lieutenant!” 

Sighing, Ghost finally opens the door. “I thought you’re on break, Captain”, he places the folders on his desk.

Price glares at the two folders before he looks back at him, eyebrow raised, “clearly”.

Ghost glares back. Not like he has anything to say to his defence.

Price breaks the tension with a little huff, “You know you could’ve just asked for the file, right? I could tell the Sergeant left an impression on you.” he laughs.

Not needing the Captain to mock him further, he bites back “report’s signed, permission to be dismissed?”

Price smirks and dismisses him. Ghost doesn’t miss the thought that leaked from him, “told you, you two would get along.”

He walks away before Price could read his own.

Smoking becomes less intimidating after you die once. Honestly, if it comes to the point he dies from lung cancer, he’ll be happy.

He’ll take that little comfort either way. Watching the smoke dissipate to the night sky, a handful of stars shining through. Little droplets of rain drizzle on the tin roof above him. It’s almost peaceful. 

Almost. If only he couldn’t hear Gaz complaining from the floor above him.

“Look, he’s doing it again.” the recruit next to him makes a questioning sound, “Ghost, he’s bloody brooding. I swear, he’s been like this even since that mission with the revenant, what’s his name…”

The recruit mumbles something, “right! MacTavish. I’ll pay a good amount to know what happened with him… you think-”

Ghost slams a fist at the tin roof, “I can fuckin’ hear ya Garrick!”.

“Good! Tell me what happened there!”

He throws the cigarette and stomps it. Can’t get a moment of silence around here…

Gaz still tries to interrogate him while Ghost walks back to his room. He would talk to him when he feels like it, kindly suggest to never bring up that mission again. 

Ghost doesn’t need more things to remind him of the Sergeant.

Sometimes he wonders if he ever was as bad as these rookies. Watching one trip on thin air, taking down 3 others poor sods trying to complete a run, he rather believe he wasn’t.

He approaches the 4 idiots, who are now literally shaking while craning their neck to look at their lieutenant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up!”.

The rookies finally pull their heads out of their arse and scramble up. While they try to get back on track, he shouts, “five more laps for you four! Get a move on!”.

The ones that finished the training murmur behind him something that sounds like a long list of expletives, maybe about wishing his mother got an abortion or the likes. 

Ghost couldn’t care less. But, for the sake of discipline, he throws a scowl at the group, shutting them instantly. 

It’s on days like these, where Gaz is away on mission, and Price buried under mountains of paperwork, that Ghost’s thoughts wander back to that mission six months ago. To a certain Scottish Sergeant, to daft jokes and a weird shared understanding. Fingers flickering with flames, blue eyes shining with them.

Useless thoughts. All they do is leave a bitter trail behind them.

On days like these, he can’t help but crave bitterness. 

The recruits finally finish their run, and Ghost dismisses them before they can cause more trouble, effectively declaring it “not his problem”. He should be more grateful of Garrick, he’s much better at handling the FNGs.

As he makes his way to the showers, one Private stops him. He looks familiar, but Ghost doesn’t bother learning any of their names.

“Captain Price orders you to his office.” the Private almost sneers at him. Ghost nods and walks away. 

Once, a long time ago, he might’ve put the Private in his place, perhaps when he cared more. Now he knows better. His powers speak loud and clear. If he wished, he could wipe the entire base off the face of this godforsaken earth. It might be because of this fact, most soldiers abhor him.

They can’t help hating what they don’t understand.

Three well practiced knocks and a “come in!”, Ghost stands in front of the Captain. Price looks surprisingly chipper for the amount of files on his desk. That makes one of them.

“To what do I owe the occasion, Captain?”

Price flashes a warm smile (one he would call fatherly if the connotation didn’t want to make him want to puke) “I’m considering adding a new member to the 141”.

His first reaction is ‘fuck no’, and Price’s face sours at that. But Ghost is willing to entertain the Captain, so he asks, “you got any candidates?”.

Price motions to the dozen or so files on his desk, “take a look”.

Ghost raises an eyebrow before sitting down and taking one at random. Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… “Breathing underwater? Really.” Ghost shuts the folder and glances at Price, “I’ll take him when we go on a bust against ultranationalists from Atlantis”.

“Not everyone is as deadly as you, Simon” Price sighs, “go on, check the others.”

Several files later Ghost is left wondering how many practically useless revenants are out there. He’s sure just thinking this is considered some sort of blasphemy among Reapers, but as he wasn’t struck down by an eldritch being yet, it’s safe to say he’s free to continue looking down at them.

He knows deep down it’s not their powers that bother him. Hell, Garrick’s Gravity manipulation isn’t that lethal, but the Sergeant knows how to effectively use it to his advantage.

Ghost simply can’t see himself working with any of them. He understands they’re in desperate need for more taskforce members, no matter how strong its three revenants are, but if they’re about to add a forth, he better be useful.

Scouring the table, Ghost realizes he went through all folders already. Price picks up on that.

“None of them up to your standard?”

Ghost crosses his arms, “not in the slightest”.

He spots a personal file on a cabinet on Price’s left, “what’s with that one?” he nods towards it.

Price turns his head, “ah, he’s currently on a long term assignment. Higher ups aren’t gonna let that one transfer so easily.”

Ghost’s interest was piqued, and he leaned to grab it. Price didn’t stop him, but he had a weird glint in his eyes. Ghost gets the feeling this outcome wasn’t unplanned.

He opens the folder and a pair of familiar blue eyes stare back. He looks up at Price.

The captain tilts his head, “well? In terms of strength, no one gets close to MacTavish. I’d dare say you and him could be evenly matched-”

“I’ll take him.”

Price falters, “what?”

“I’ll accept a new member if it was Soap.” Ghost states, leaving no room for argument. A bubbling feeling of excitement washes through him, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. The mountains of questions Soap left behind him come back to the forefront of his mind. 

And he feels… hopeful.

Price shakes the surprise off his features, and he looks tiredly at the file, “...I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll do my best to get him.” He takes out a well deserved cigar, “I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you Captain”, the words don’t encapsulate just how grateful Ghost is.

“Now scram, I have about 50 calls to make.” Price waves his hand and picks up the phone. Ghost makes his exit before the Captain changes his mind.

Garrick returns from his assignment the following morning. The reason Ghost knows that is he watches the door to mess being slammed open while he tries to drink his morning tea.

“GHOST!” Gaz shouts, swiveling his head side to side, searching for him. Sometimes Ghost wishes he could actually go invisible like some rumors suggest.

But alas, he finds him quickly enough, and rushes to his table, uncaring of the several heads following his actions. 

“Garrick” Ghost greets him, “how was the missio-”.

“We’re getting a new 141 member?!” Gaz cut him off, the excitement in his voice palpable, and he visibly starts floating a few inches off ground. Ghost tries to be annoyed with him, but he always found Gaz’s more energetic approach to life endearing.

“Nothing’s final yet, settle down.”

“But you know who it is, right?” Gaz sits in the chair in front of him, “c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

Ghost considers lying and saying he has no clue either, but he figures he might as well rip the band-aid now.

“It’s Sergeant MacTavish.” he tries to sound bored.

By the mischievous look on Garrick, he knows he failed miserably, “ohoho Ghost… Did you suggest your mysterious Sergeant to Price?” he grins like the menace he is, “seems like you won’t be able to hide what happened on ‘The Mission’ for much longer-”

Ghost slams his mug on the table, “nothing to hide, Sergeant.”

But Gaz is already 3 steps ahead in his brain, “I’ve heard he can create explosions, you think he could shoot up like a rocket? Could work well with my powers…”

Ghost stands up and groans, “he’s not a bloody spaceship Gaz, fuckin’ hell…”

He has a feeling Garrick and MacTavish will get along just fine.

The following days are… weird. Ghost never waited in anticipation for something as impatiently as he does right now. The clock seems to tick at a snail’s pace, and he finds his focus impaired. Thank his Reaper he’s not on a mission right about now…

Price is practically living in his office, constantly making calls and going through document after document. From what he understands, Soap is highly sought after for his explosion immunity, the best defuser there is.

Ghost is bitterly reminded of the huge pile of medical records in his personal file. That taste he rather not chase.

As for Gaz… His excitement grows by the day. It reminds Ghost that while the Sergeant is very friendly and always finds someone to talk to, he’s also one of the very few revenants on base.

He wonders if it feels as alienating as it does for him from time to time.

It’s not for 2 weeks later that he and Gaz are summoned to Price’s office. The place reeks of cigar smoke, and Price himself looks like he’s in need of at least 24 hours of sleep. But a triumphant attitude emanates from him in waves, and Ghost knows before he even opens his mouth what he’s about to say.

“It wasn’t easy, and I had to use every connection I had up there, but I got great news for you lads.”

Gaz smiles brightly, and turns his head to look at Ghost.

“I can finally say Sergeant Soap MacTavish is officially a member of the 141”.

Garrick cheers and floats high enough that Ghost has to drag him down before he slams his head against the ceiling, and sees the Captain’s expression shift.

“But…” Ghost starts for him. Of course this wouldn’t be this simple, nothing ever is.

Price exhales loudly, “Soap still has a couple of unfinished missions he will need to attend before he can join us fully.”

Gaz finally picks up on the mood shift, ‘...he will still be with us on base though, right?”

“Yes”, the Captain scratches under his iconic hat, and not for the first time Ghost wonders if it’s glued on with the way it refuses to fall off, “he will train with us, so take those few weeks as an opportunity to learn to work together. He’s quite powerful, and I think you will find… creative ways to work together.” with that last sentence, he glances at Ghost. Curious.

“When will the Sergeant arrive?” Ghost asks.

Price takes a quick look at the calendar, “3 days, early morning.”

That sends Garrick on a marathon of questions to Price, and Ghost retreats to into his mind.

3 days… 3 days and he will see those flames dance again. That Scottish lilt and crooked smile. 

Ghost feels his mouth stretch in a hesitant smile, as if the muscles almost forgot the movement, and notices Price mirroring it.

Perhaps he could give a chance to hope.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! I appreciate it a lot <3

[scorpionrising]

there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here

notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose

before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:

daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...

edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it

Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.

“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.

“What was?” Daena asked. 

“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”

“What did they know?” 

“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.” 

There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace. 

“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair. 

“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.” 

Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke. 

“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.” 

Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her. 

“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”

“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.” 

“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.” 

Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty. 

When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones. 

“What are you reading?” she asked him.

He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.” 

“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.” 

He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality. 

“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames. 

“And whose fault is that?” he retorted. 

She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw. 

“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.

“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth. 

“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.” 

“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”

“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.” 

She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul. 

“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?” 

“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”

She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”

“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.” 

“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?” 

“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”

“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.  

He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now. 

“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.” 

He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human. 

“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?” 

“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”

“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”

“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said. 

She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last. 

“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”

When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up. 

“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.” 

He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”

With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back. 

“Just come up here.”

Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now. 

“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”

“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”

She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully. 

“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted. 

“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak. 

It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more. 

Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.

Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.  

Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it. 

“We have to bury her,” she insisted. 

“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?” 

“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”

“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.” 

And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left. 

When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move. 

“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”

“Yes,” he said.

Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned. 

“Why did you never write back?”

“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her. 

“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.” 

He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.” 

It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep. 

“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.” 

“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”

“It matters not,” he said. 

“Of course it matters,” she said.

A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important. 

“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?” 

“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?” 

“It serves as a reminder.” 

“What could it possibly remind you of?”

He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.” 

“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him. 

“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.” 

Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm. 

“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him. 

Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean. 

She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes. 

“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid. 

Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door. 

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected. 

“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.” 

He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing. 

Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity. 

“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?” 

“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts. 

“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here. 

She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not. 

Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush. 

“How?” he asked. 

His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere. 

“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.” 

Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.  

“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”

She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late. 

Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly. 

Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.  

Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.

“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.

His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her. 

“What makes you believe you could never have me?” 

He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.” 

She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe. 

“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.” 

Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow. 

His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close. 

“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed. 

“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled. 

“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered. 

“And what am I, my lady?” 

“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.” 

She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair. 

However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.

“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin. 

“Do you want me, Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?” 

He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened. 

“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”

Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly. 

“Get on your knees, then,” she said.

Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to. 

“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.” 

He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat. 

“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!” 

Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him. 

His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted. 

She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her. 

Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs. 

Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight. 

“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—” 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face. 

Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions. 

Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs. 

“Seven… hells,” he grunted.  

She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack. 

“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free. 

She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms. 

Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room. 

Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion. 

A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more. 

Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again. 

A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his. 

They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care. 

She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted. 

But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?

She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change. 

He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse. 

She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat. 

They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.

It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”

Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction. 

“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”

At that, a flush crept up his cheeks. 

“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.” 

“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.” 

She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one. 

“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.” 

Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly. 

“I’m quite fine.”

“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.” 

She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there. 

“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”

“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.” 

“Daena, you cannot—”

“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.” 

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her. 

“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on. 

“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.” 

“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?” 

“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.” 

He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room. 

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap. 

They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him. 

“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.” 

“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”

Oh. 

“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.” 

“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…” 

She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers? 

“We can just be… what, Aemond?” 

“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.” 

A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.  

“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted. 

Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck. 

There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches.  They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close. 

They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he. 

But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him. 

“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows. 

She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response. 

Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life. 

“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were. 

Daena stilled beneath him. “What?” 

“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.” 

For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before. 

When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor. 

His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward. 

“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout. 

He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him. 

“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.

He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.

Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled. 

“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.

Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face. 

“Vermithor is healed,” she said. 

“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.” 

Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.  

“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.

She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.” 

He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?” 

That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days. 

“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek. 

It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue. 

She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice. 

“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.” 

“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?” 

It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him. 

“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.” 

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of. 

“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.” 

Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster. 

“I did not take your eye.”

He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke. 

“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.” 

Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again. 

“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.” 

She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself. 

“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.

“I will,” he confirmed. 

Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.

“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.” 

They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him. 

That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena. 

There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed. 

“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone. 

Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies. 

Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.

[robosanz]

ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴇ

"𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱, 𝔪𝔶 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣." - 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫

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pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

summary: anything you draw/write on your own skin appears on your soulmate's. what happens when you need to cheat on your chemistry exam, and these formulas suddenly appear on Kuroo's arms who has to take the same test?

word count: 3,099

note: this is my first time posting something on tumblr and i'm still not completely sure how tumblr works, hehe. usually i post on ao3 and wattpad (under the same name) but i wanted to try it out here as well. I hope you like this oneshot :)

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“Are you ready for our chemistry test?”

Your best friend’s question made you stop in your tracks in the crowded hallway. A few students walked into you, complaining about you not moving and holding them up. You, however, had other concerns; the chemistry test had completely slipped your mind, despite it being the biggest test with every 3rd year having to take it. With wide eyes you looked at your friend and grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

A sheepish smile grew on his lips, his warm brown eyes not looking at you. “I forgot to tell you,” he admitted with a shy chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. He knew how you were but he had been busy and forgot to remind you. 

You clasped your hands over your face. “Hayate, what am I gonna do now?!” You always had problems remembering important things concerning school, mostly because you didn’t care that much about school. However, you still managed to get good grades and that’s why you kept not being bothered by it too much.

“Hey, you’ll manage,” Hayate said with a warm smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You somehow always do,” he mumbled. He was just as clueless as you about how you managed to get good grades. 

You took a breath and nodded. “Yeah you’re right,” you said and rolled up your sleeves, eying your inner arm. Hayate raised an eyebrow while you tried to estimate how much stuff you could fit on them. Chemistry was one of your strongest subjects so you only needed to write down specific details that were new to you. Looking up with a smile, you nodded. “You know, I guess I’ll really manage.”

Hayate shook his head with a smile. “Your soulmate must think you’re some loser.” 

You gasped and put a hand on your chest. “Excuse me, I’m actually a genius if it wasn’t for my laziness.”

Hayate chuckled and ruffled your head lovingly. “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that. But they sure must think you’re always cheating in school because you’re stupid.” 

You pouted and crossed your arms. It was still true what Hayate said - if school stuff would appear on your arms like that you would think exactly that. But your soulmate has never written something on their arm or anywhere else before. It was mostly you who wrote on your arm; mostly for cheating on tests. “Well, they could also write something on their arm for once.”

Hayate shrugged. “Maybe they’ll finally freak out about this much advanced chemistry and write something back.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t want them to write anything,” you huffed, making Hayate chuckle. It was quite strange that you still hadn’t heard anything from your soulmate. Normally, people would go crazy to find out more about them and most of the people already found them by the age of 16. You were now 18 and had never even written a word with them. You weren’t too obsessed with finding them and they seemed to feel the same way about it.

Hayate had also found his soulmate about a year ago. She was a sweet and kind girl in your year. You got along with her a lot and she even became one of your best friends in a year. You were happy for your best friend and even if he teased you about possibly not having a soulmate, you didn’t make the effort to find them in order to prove him wrong.

The bell snapped you out of your thoughts and you gasped. “Shit, I’ll be back in five minutes,” you called out to Hayate before running down the hall towards the lady’s restroom. You needed to scribble down a few things on your arm before the exam. The brown-haired boy chuckled and shook his head before making his way to class.

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Kuroo was bouncing his knee up and down while waiting for the teacher to enter. The tense atmosphere in the classroom only contributed to his nervousness. It was unusually silent, only the clock’s ticking echoed through the room full of students. 

The upcoming test was taking a toll on everyone, and despite being one of Kuroo’s favourite subjects, the chemistry test was making him nervous as well. And when he noticed black lines appearing on his arms, he tensed even more; especially when the lines formed into exactly the chemistry formulas and definitions he needed for the test. He read the things appearing on both of his arms briefly before rolling down his sleeves with shaky hands and a quickly beating heart. He didn’t want to fail the test just because his soulmate decided to go crazy about chemistry. What the fuck? 

This was not the first time things about school subjects appeared on his arms. At first he thought that his soulmate was cheating themselves through their exams but somehow it didn’t make sense that they only wrote down a few specific things and not everything. Kuroo shook his head and the teacher came into the room.

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A sigh left your lips when the exam was over. You didn’t get caught cheating and the notes on your arms even helped you with some answers. You packed all your things and left the classroom where Hayate was already waiting for you. When you saw him, a grin grew on your face. “I completely nailed it.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, “yeah, but only because you cheated.” 

“I didn’t completely cheat,” you said and crossed your arms. He raised an eyebrow, making you glare at him with narrowed eyes. You two had a staring contest until someone bumped into your shoulder. You snapped your head over to the person only to see the school’s volleyball captain. You huffed and looked away from his retreating figure. Everyone at school knew Kuroo; he was one of the popular boys everyone swooned over. You looked at Hayate, “your captain is rude.” He didn’t even apologise for bumping into you.

Hayata smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes. “He’s actually pretty nice,” he said, making you roll your eyes. “You know, everyone is kinda waiting for him to find his soulmate. The girls are freaking out over him.”

You only hummed, not really interested in the whole Kuroo situation. You had other things to think about. The girls who were obsessed over him were stupid in your eyes; there were more important things to think about. Turning to your best friend you shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at practice.” He nodded and ruffled your hair before you went separate ways. 

At home, you spent the rest of the day doing nothing in particular and when you stepped out of the shower, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Tightening the towel around you, you gawked at your arm.

'I have no idea why you’re suddenly a chemistry freak, but for once your scribbling helped me in an exam today.'

“Oh my god,” you mumbled and tightly shut your eyes, cringing at all the things you have written on your arm before. “My soulmate really thinks I’m stupid.” A part of you had secretly hoped that Hayate was right and you were one of the rare cases that didn't have a soulmate. 

Quickly putting on your pyjamas, you took a pen and sat on your bed. You tapped the pen against your chin while looking at the first ever message you received from your soulmate. “What am I doing?” You shook your head and were about to put the pen away and roll down your sleeve when another message appeared. 

'You’re not gonna tell me what you needed the notes for?'

“Screw it,” you mumbled and opened the pen’s lid with your mouth before writing down something on your arm as well. 

'I had a chemistry exam as well.'

You raised your eyebrows at the coincidence. How were the chances that you and them both had a chemistry exam on the same topics? With knitted eyebrows you watched new words appear on your skin. Could it be that we are in the same school?

'What a coincidence. So you normally cheat on your tests?'

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, considering not to answer anymore. Whoever that was seemed smug and you didn’t want to keep talking to them. Pressing your lips together, you glanced at your arm briefly. A groan escaped your lips before you scribbled on your arm. 

'I normally don’t cheat, I tend to forget a lot of my exams so I only need a bit of help.'

A few minutes passed and you were still staring at your arm, waiting for an answer. But nothing came. “Whatever,” you mumbled and rolled your eyes before laying down. You closed your eyes but let out a sigh before you angrily peeked at your arm one last time. A smile crept on your face when you read the words. 

'You still helped me today, thanks. Good night :)'

Scribbling down a good night as well, you went to sleep with a small smile on your face. Maybe they’re not that bad.

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“Your soulmate really did write to you?” Hayate’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed you nodding your head. A sudden knowing smirk crept on his face, making you knit your eyebrows. “This is fucking amazing,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Oi,” you slapped his arm, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He hid something from you and being the noisy person you were, you wanted to know on the spot. And the smug smirk didn’t mean anything good. Hayate only shrugged and whistled before going to class. With narrowed eyes you followed him to the classroom; for the rest of the day you didn’t get out of him what he was smirking about. 

“You’re not gonna tell me?” You crossed your arms when you both stood in front of the school building after classes. He didn’t have practice today, so you walked home together. 

Hayate smirked. “If you really want to know,” he shrugged and glanced at you with an amused expression, “Kuroo wants to find his soulmate now.”

You sweatdropped and slapped the back of his head. “Idiot, and I thought it was something important.”

He chuckled and stepped away from you. “That’s kinda important, and I know exactly who it is.” A wide smirk crept on his lips when your wide eyes snapped over to him in surprise. “I saw something written on his arm yesterday and coincidentally I saw the exact thing on someone else’s arm as well.”

“No way!” You grabbed his arm looking up at his face. “Tell me.”

Hayate pushed you away from him before walking ahead, shaking his head. “I thought you weren’t interested in him.” He laughed internally. If you only knew.

“You’re right,” you said and jogged up to your best friend, “I don’t care.” Grabbing your backpack’s straps, you bit your lip. You really wanted to know who it was and Hayate knew it. You glanced at him. “It’s Kenma, isn’t it?” It wouldn't surprise you even a bit if it was the quiet setter. You had always thought that they were too much of best friends and partners to not be soulmates.

“I won’t tell you, but maybe he’ll tell you.”

“Idiot,” you grumbled, “why should he tell me?”

Hayate only shrugged, sending you an innocent grin and a shrug. You huffed and crossed your arms, oblivious to all the hints your best friend already gave you. Just yesterday, Hayate had seen both of Kuroo’s arms in the boy’s changing room. And they were full of the notes you had taken a few minutes prior to the exam. Hayate was glad that it was someone like Kuroo that was your soulmate. The both of you were quite similar; you were good at school, mostly introverted and both of you were calm and collected people - at least if Yaku didn’t trigger Kuroo.

“You really won’t tell me, will you?” You stopped in front of your front yard and pouted slightly. 

Hayate shook his head with a fond smile, happy that his friend would soon grow up. “Get some sleep, I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a great day.” He patted your head before walking to his house, leaving you standing there with crossed arms. 

With knitted eyebrows you looked after him until he was out of your sight. Heaving a sigh, you got into your house and immediately went into your room to take a nap. However, a message on your arm made you stop. With knitted eyebrows and a small blush you sat on your bed.

'I want to know more about you. Are you free?'

You gulped and took a pen. 

'Yes I am.'

While waiting for the answer, you quickly changed into something comfortable and got under the covers, taking a pen with you. You opened your laptop to watch a movie when new lines appeared on your arm.

'Nice, you can text me. xxx xxxx xxx'

You froze, not believing they gave you their number just like this. They may be your soulmate, but you still hesitated before saving their number on your phone. For all you knew, they could’ve just given you a random number.

Biting your lip, your fingers slowly typed hi before lingering over the send button. Shutting your eyes tightly you pressed send. When your phone vibrated, you peeked one eye open and looked at the text.

'I almost thought you wouldn't text me.'

You rolled your eyes with a small smile.

'I almost didn't but whatever.'

The both of you texted for a while and you found out that his name was Tetsuroo and he was also in 3rd year high school and even in Tokyo. He liked chemistry and was therefore interested in you after he saw all the notes. If you hadn't written all these things on your arm, he probably wouldn't have contacted you. But before you could manage to find out more about him, he ended the conversation, saying he still had something to do.

With a sigh you laid down, covering yourself with your blanket completely. "He's not that bad," you mumbled with a small smile before letting sleep take over. 

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You huffed and put your chin on your palm while the teacher was going on and on about maths. You were good in the subject and already knew all of that, boring you to death. Beside you, Hayate was busy taking notes while you looked out of the window, not paying any attention. 

When something appeared on your palm, you felt your heart skip a beat and waited for him to complete his sentence with a small smile.

'Hi, I’m bored out of my mind right now.'

You resisted the urge to giggle and took a pen to tell him that you’re in the same position as him and that maths was killing you.

'Well, we could continue our conversation from yesterday.'

You nodded to yourself already knowing which question you wanted to ask next. After all, you wanted to know roughly in which area he was living in.

'Which school do you go to?'

He didn’t take long to answer and when he did, your heart threatened to stop right there and then. Staring at the words nekoma high school with wide eyes, you sat up straighter. Immediately, you looked around the classroom, trying to find someone who was looking or writing on his palm. When you found no one you turned back to your own palm. 

'Which class are you in?'

Your heart dropped and you jumped off your seat, scaring everyone in the room with the loud scraping sound of your chair. The teacher sent you a glare to which you quickly bowed and excused yourself. Avoiding Hayate’s questioning look, you rushed out of the classroom. 

“What the fuck?” you said to yourself, leaning against the wall beside the classroom before pressing your palm on your forehead. You only knew one person in this class that was called Tetsuro and that was Kuroo.

“You don’t seem to be too happy about me.” 

You looked up when his deep voice reached your ears. Kuroo stood in front of you with one hand in his pocket and a small smirk on his handsome face. Pushing yourself off the wall, you cleared your throat quickly. “I don’t know what you mean,” you trailed off, not looking at him.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he nodded to himself. “Lucky me, I got a really charming soulmate.”

“Hey, I can be charming,” you quickly defended yourself, making him laugh. Heat rose to your face and you huffed, crossing your arms. However, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. At least, a decent person was your assigned soulmate and not someone you couldn’t stand or was absolutely disgusting in character. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile crept on your lips at the realisation.

“You sure are a cutie.” Kuroo patted your head, making your face beet red. You swatted his hand away from your head, your smile falling quickly. “Well, since we found each other, I wanted to ask if you’re free on Saturday.”

Taking a breath, you slowly nodded. It would make no sense to reject the boy now. Why not give it a try. It can’t be that bad.

Kuroo smiled and nodded but before he could add something, Hayate put his arms around your and Kuroo’s shoulder, pulling you two closer to him. “Finally, you two found each other,” he grinned, “and here I thought you two oblivious people would take weeks to find each other.”

You pulled out of the group hug and slapped the back of Hayate’s head. “You knew and you didn’t tell me, idiot.”

He rubbed the spot you had hit and chuckled innocently. “Then it wouldn’t have been fun for me,” he admitted and shrugged, earning a glare from you. He smirked and looked between you and his captain, “but you already have a date.”

“No,” you quickly said, knowing exactly what your best friend was thinking, “you’re not coming as well.” Turning to Kuroo, you narrowed your eyes at the taller boy. “Don’t tell him where we’re going or he’ll deadass come.”

Kuroo chuckled and nodded while Hayate let out an offended cry and dramatically fell on his knees, clasping his chest. “The betrayal!”

With a blush you grabbed Kuroo’s arm, and dragged him away from the scene your best friend was causing. “If anyone asks, we don’t know him.”