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sweetmuffynsblog · 2 years

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What?

This is the EPILOGUE part! To be honest, i don't want to write thd EPILOGUE but then i decided that you deserve it! So enjoy!

You accompanied your father to attend his duty as The King. Now that he grows old and exposed to the infection caused by the Swords on the Iron Throne which makes him cannot walk properly, you are the real power behind the King.

Being the Heir, you ensure your people's life comes first than anything else, you give them proper jobs, give them home, criminal rates in the King's Landing and all of the Westeros are so low, you give the men the lands to plant the seeds for agriculture and always ensured that the payement for them are not conveted by their superior, you got that help from Ser Harwin Strong, the commander of the City Watch himself always making sure that the common folks get the pays as what they deserved. Common folks adore you, you are the constant name in their lips everytime they pray to their Gods. Much more than your father nor your great-grandfather's.

Your father passed away peacefully, in his bedside, he was accompanied by both of his eldest grandsons, your sons, Aemon and Baelon, both named after two of the supposedly Kings, your sons grow up to be the most unalike yet so alike children ever, Aemon, the firstborn is a cunning and politically ambitious but so kind, he is very fit to be a ruler just like you, meanwhile, Baelon is very much like his namesake, brave, and hot tempered like his father, but exceptionally kind. Since your labor that traumatized your husband, he vows to never let you fall pregnant again, yet, Alyssa and Visenya Targaryen were born three and five years into your marriage, much to your pleasure and Daemon's freaking out.

You are crowned in fourth day of the fourth moon in 129 AC, a day and a month after the late King passed, the members of the councils want you to be crowned as soon as possible but you tell them to wait, because grieving is more important, you and your sister were already went passed this when your mother had died but they never give you a time to properly grieving her, resulting a very bad choices in both of your sides.

You are also very thankful that Aegon doesn't turn out horrible like what you saw in the fire, and your sister Rhaenyra is very sweet, a mother to three beautiful children with white hair and purple eyes, perfect combination of Velaryon and Targaryen, you somehow find it hilarious that Laenor and Rhaenyra are be able to manage for having three children together despite their same likeness towards 'Dicks'. But you are happy nonethless.

Alicent is distressed, you can see by one look in her face, you face her with a questioning look, "what's bothering you, Dowager Queen?"

"it's Aegon, Your Grace," she says, you look at her,

"what happened to him?"

"i want him to marry! Preferably to Helaena but he doesn't seem to keen to the idea?"

"Aegon is a Prince, he can do whatever he wants." you say, shrugging your shoulder, while sitting and pour a wine for her, "and for Helaena, Aemon and Daeron, are same. Especially Helaena, you should ask her opinion first before make her marrying Aegon. It is great if they love each other but what if not? They are siblings, and it will not good if they resent each other while in marriage."

Alicent looks at you with a wide eyes, "but, isn't it women's duty to marry whoever their parents want them to marry?" Alicent asks make you let out a chuckle, she sits infront of yoy and you look at the younger woman, yes, she's younger than you by a few years but still your stepmother,

"you, me and Rhaenyra were the example for a forcing marriage by our parents, and you know how it ended. Sometimes the marriage is bearable and we can find a love in it but many times it ended horrible. Especially for us, women. I guess you can understand right? I don't want any other Targaryen Women facing the same thing as us did, and one day i can chance that women can choice anyone they want. And Helaena will be the first. She is a good girl and will be a good wife and mother one day, ask her, if she has eye for anyone, and if she doesn't, then we wait couple more years, it's not like we will get poor just because we keep our daughters. And she is the daughter of the King and the Sister of the Queen, i don't think those sheeps paraded themselves as noble lords can tamed the Dragon in her." you grinned, while Alicent lets out a defeated sigh, she knows very well that your reasoning is very logical,

"well, Helaena's maid told me that she and Rhaenyra's boy are close."

"Nyra's? Which one? Jace or Luce?"

"The second." and you let out a good laugh,

"you and Rhaenyra will be In Laws..." you tease her while she lets out a huff, makes you laugh harder, "well, i know that both of you have a slightly problem at each other, but honestly, you should call it truce because maybe both your children will end up together." you bring the cup towards you and play with it, "besides, first love never die, yes?"

Alicent gives you unbelief look, while you sip your wine and enjoying her reactions,

"how?'

"i know a lot of things, i just happen to not show it." you smirk at her, she huffs again and massage her temple,

"damn you."

"i am always damn great, thank you so much."

***

Daemon finds you in a small council meetings, he is a Master of Law, while Corlys as Master of Ship, Lyonel Strong still a Hand, and his son, Larys is a Master of Whispers, and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen is the Mistress of Coins, you chance Grand Maester Mellos's position and give it fo Grand Maester Gerald and you don't want to chance your Queensguard and insisted that Ser Harrold Westerling becomes your commander, many has adviced you to chance it to Ser Criston Cole but you still hold a grudge against him when he killed your bestfriend, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. He smiles and giving you a kiss in your temple, while Corlys and others snickered. He knows everyone already used to both of you doing display of affection,

"let's begin this meeting, shall we?"

***

"I'm hungry." you tell Daemon as soon as both of you step outside of the council meeting, he smiles at you and kiss your nose, both of you walk hand in hand to the King's solar or in this case, Queen's solar. Daemon open the door and both of you are smiling when you are attacked by hugs and kisses,

"muña! Kepa!" mother. Father. You welcome the hugs and kisses then laugh filled the air, "how is the meeting?" you look at the little girl who ask, barely a ten years old but really love the knowledge.

"the meeting went smooth, thankfully, that's why we can come here and eat with you." you tell her, Alyssa, your first daughter let out a snort which make you laugh harder, while Visenya, your youngest daughter places herself in her father's lap, your older sons sit in their chair but not before giving you both big kiss on the cheek. You and Daemon always making sure to show affections and making all of them feel loved without leaving the other. That's why your children are very adored by common folks because they are not cold like others.

"is Ser Criston whines again?" Visenya asks make you laugh, Aemon shoot his sister looks but he couldn't hide the amuse smile in his lips,

"when is he never whine?" Daemon retord and everyone laugh, it's always like this, while everyone jokes around and talking shit about Lords and Ladies of The Court that the children find annoying, it happens to Ser Cole's time.

Tok tok...

"enter." your maid, Alina or now Lady Alina or Melissandre enters, "what happened, Ali?"

"a letter from Harrenhall, Your Graces." she gives you a letter with Strong insignia, then bows to you, you open the letter and instantly your mood chances, you swallowed the lump in your throat and pass the letter to your husband, after he reads it, you look at each other and let out a sigh.

"are Lord and Lady Velaryon aware of this?" you ask her, Alina nods,

"yes." you sigh again and wipe your tears,

"what happened?" Baelon asks, you give him a forced smile,

"your aunt, Laena was passed away due to the childbirth."

Laena was married to Harwin Strong and both were lived in Harrenhall, she already gave birth to a twin girls before, Baela and Rhaena, and was pregnant again despite Maester's warning, you thought she was going to be ok since you always make sure to send the best ingredients to make a tonics for her. You look at your children,

"i am going to accompany the guards to bring Laena's body back." you tell them, Daemon nods, you look at Alina and she goes to your chamber and prepares your riding dress, the Targaryen colours. After you changed, you hug your children and kisses their forehead before plant a kiss to your husband's lips, "see you, my loves."

You and your family walk out from the chamber, to find the Velaryons already awaited for you. There's unshed tears in their eyes and Rhaenys immediately engulfs you into hug, you hug her back,

"we will bring her body back, and her children into Red Keep. Here, she will have a funeral procession fits of a Princess." you tell everyone, "she is a blood of the Dragons."

***

You mount your dragon, Vanarr, while Rhaenys mounts her Meleys, Laenor mounts his Seasmoke and Rhaenyra her Syrax. While the Royal Guards stand outside and begins their ride to Harrenhall, with horses, the ride will be long, up to weeks, but with Dragons, you arrived just exact three hours later. The courtyard filled with a Lords and Ladies in Riverlands, everyone gives you bows and curtsy when you get off your dragon and let him fly. Everyone parted for the Royal Family that come to bring their member back, that's what happened to Princess Daella Targaryen when she passed away after given birth to your mother, her nephews, nieces and brothers came and fetch her body and bring along her child. You see Harwin Strong stands with his daughters, arms in both their shoulders, he gives you bows while the girls attempted to curtsy,

"no. Don't, my sweetlings." Your heart break at their sight and bring them to hug, Baela hugs you with both of her hands but refused to crying, while her younger twin clutches her dragon egg tightly and crying in your arms, "it's ok. Yeah? We will go to King's Landing, sure?"

You let go of the girls, as they embrace their grandmother, you walk to Ser Harwin, "my deepest condolences, Ser." you say while he only nods, "i will take Laena's body with me to King's Landing. And she will have the funeral procession of the Old Valyria."

"but, Your Grace-" you know he wants his Lady wife to has a funeral in the way Faith of the Seven has but you can't let it happen, no matter what, Laena was a blood of old Valyria, a Dragon's daughter, she deserved the Valyrian procession.

"she was a daughter of the Targaryen Princess. She was a blood of the Dragon, it's her rights."

***

A funeral of Laena going smoothly, you command your dragon and she light a fire to hers and her son's body. The two girls are still grieving, You have to step in and give them love they deserve. They look up on you in everything and Alyssa and Visenya treated them like their sisters.

Your children grow up well, now it's the time for them to choose a marriage partner, Your first born son wished to marry Daenaera Velaryon, despite you really wished him to considered either Baela or Rhaena but he told you that he loves both of them as he loves Alyssa and Visenya. Thus, you and your husband agreed that he will marry Daenaera, the proposal comes from Dorne, they want a peace alliagance, they proposed to marry their Princess to your second born son, Baelon and one of your daughter to them, which you agreed after considered your children's opinion, Dorne then bend the kness to you. Alyssa is the one who marry into house Nymeros Martell of Dorne, While your brother Aegon takes a Lady of the House Celtigar, an old Targaryen Loyalist of Old Blood Valyria, you allow him, it's not everyday your brother really wants something, your other brother, Aemond asks your permission to marry Visenya which you grant him because you see Visenya also smitten with her uncle, while your youngest brother Daeron opted to become a Maester in Oldtown, you want to refused but he insisted, that's why you grant him. Baela was supposed to wed Jacaerys Velaryon but she refused and wed her other cousin, Alyn Velaryon instead, while your nephew takes a Tyrell girl to be his wife, Lucerys wed Helaena as they both wished while Joffrey opted the Knight time and you offered him a position in the Queensguard, which he happily agreed. Rhaena married Ser Corwyn Cobray of the Vale, they both love each other so you let him.

Your reign is very peaceful, people call you "The God's Gift", "The Realm's Pleasure" and the "Blessed Queen". From your reign, the law changes, every firstborn child no matter wether it's male or female, he or she will inherited the Throne and no one will challenge them as long as they are not Maegor the Cruel reborn. You stop the long decades war of the Faith, and bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms, there's a lot of Dragons that hatches, the House Targaryen is powerful than ever. The common folks's life are better than ever, King's Landing get rid of it foul smell, criminal rate is low.

You decided to abdicate in the favor of your son and heir after he's in age, then you and your husband mount your dragons then begin your travelling, both of you release the Queen and her consort's attribute in you and become a normal Dragon Rider, you go to Pentos, and to Yi Ti, Qarth even Old Valyria, you travel as far as to the Lands of the Always Winter, becomes the second Targaryen Queen after Alyssane Targaryen to do so, you go to Essos, to the Free Cities and even Dothraki's region, the Great Grass Sea, and even to the Ulthos and Mussovy, before both of you decided to stay in Pentos and guard them against the Triarchy.

You and Daemon enjoying your stay, you miss your children, sometimes Visenya will fly to you with her dragon, but you know they will manage it. Then the legend about the two of you begins, The Sell Sword and his Lady wife who ride two magnificent Dragons, they don't know if you are noble or just a Valyrian Bastards, they only know Daemon and Y/N Of Pentos, the Dragon Riders.

End! Aaaa screaming😭❤ thank you! Btw my boy Laenor here is a Bi and his sons are true born sons, ok!

#rhaenyra icons #daemon targaryen #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #the house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x reader #daemon au #daemon prince #aemond targaryen #house targaryen #princess rhaenys targaryen #targaryensource

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our-lady-of-night-ravens · 4 years

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The Bane of Our Family: Father

Inspired by @tri3tri’s S/W au along with a submission from @scorpiris-sideralis

There will be more for me to say at the end of the story.

In the Valley of Thorns, lived a princess who was born with the blood of both humans and fae. The crown princess of the Valley, under the tutelage of her father, the king, and the brightest scholars of the kingdom grew up to be an intelligent and cunning princess who was skilled in controlling her fae magic and was brought up to be a great Queen.

However, she knew that there were notable issues within the castle, starting with her family. Her father, who treated her like a national treasure, was possessive over her sweet and loving mother. The reason for that was simple. She didn’t love Father, at least not in the way father wanted her too. And so, Mother was forced to marry her father at a young age, even though most of his advisors were against the idea of father marrying a magic-less human. That reason alone was why many of her father’s advisors would look at her with scorn and disdain, no matter what she accomplished.

She cared deeply about her mother and treasured the unconditional love that she gave her and her younger sister from infancy. That was why for her sake, she would ascend to the throne and find a way to help her mother return to her true home. The princess spent years planning every decision out, gaining the favor of young nobles, winning over some of the members of her father’s court, and earning the love of the public.

However it was all torn apart when her father announced that he would be marrying another woman, a lady of a noble pureblood fae family, in hopes of giving birth to a son, and once she did, that child would be the next heir. He had denounced her as his heir, all that work, everything she did, it was apparently for naught.

Then again she can’t be too surprised, her father’s advisors had been badgering him to take on a second wife of pure fae origin so he could have an heir of pureblood.

Pureblood.

That was something about the Princess she couldn’t change about herself. She could study every book in the royal library and become the kingdom’s most brilliant scholar, she could take up the way of the blade and become the greatest swordsman in the Valley, she could even practice her magic and refine it to perfection that rivals even her father’s, but she could never change her blood. It was something that was always mentioned among the advisors like it was a blatant flaw of hers. Like it made it her inferior to all of them, despite having the Witch of Thorns’ blood running through her veins.

It simply wasn’t right, Mother, human though she may be, was the queen of the Valley of Thorns, had the proper authority to act upon her whims and punish everyone if she wasn’t so compassionate. It was disrespectful to see the court and the servants look at her and her mother with contempt despite all they’ve done for the kingdom.

She had to listen to Sebek criticize her mother all the time, no matter how well she did her job as Queen because of her human origins. It was disrespectful for a fae who was no more than a guard to berate his queen for doing her duty. It was frustrating seeing her mother have no choice but to grow used to the hurtful comments around her no matter what she did and watching her father do nothing to prevent them.

When she confronted her father in his office, all he did was brush her off, like she was dust on his shoulder.

“Father I don’t understand why you would give in to your court’s whims.”

“This isn’t your business, I suggest that some of your studies be dropped as you are no longer heir.”

“But father, you would always say that you needn’t have to remarry because you would always have mother and my sister and me. Why did you suddenly change your mind now?”

“That is none of your concern, the Valley needs a proper heir and your mother simply hasn’t become pregnant in these past few years.”

“A proper heir? Have my actions not shown that I’m capable of being Queen? Or is it that… you’re ashamed of my human blood, ashamed of me and mother?”

His back grew rigid, “Daughter, I would watch your words in front of me.”

“I refuse, I need a proper answer from you father. Would you have preferred that mother was born fae? Did you not, when I was younger, say that you loved everything about mother, or was just that simply just a lie?”

“Young Lady…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t love mother, do you? You just think of her as a fun toy that you grew tired of don’t you? You certainly don’t care that she’s constantly harassed by the castle’s employees, from the court to Sebek even the maids go about berating her for her human blood. But I’ve never seen you once attempt to stop them.”

Her father’s ears were turning red from contempt and his eyes were glowering at her but she stood her ground.

“Or is that your plan? You stole her from her home, forced her into marriage, forced her to have your children only to abandon her in a way of breaking her down until she’s desperate for care and affection from you. Is this all just a part of your sick and twisted attempt of getting her to love you?”

*SLAP*

A red mark bloomed on the princess’s face, her father standing before her, hand raised. He had slapped her. She raised her hand to the mark on her face with wide eyes. In the past, she never would have believed that her doting father would even harm a hair on her head, let alone slap her across the face. It hurt, even though she knew what he put her mother through, he was still her father and she always wanted to appease him and make him proud.

“That’s enough out of you, it seems you’ve grown as insufferably stubborn as your mother. Silver. Sebek. Escort the princess back to her room.” His guards, who were waiting outside, entered his office.

Silver was the first to approach her, “Princess please follow me.” But she pulled herself away from him.

“I’m not leaving until I ask one last thing to my father, Silver.”

Malleus sighed before answering, “And pray tell would that be, daughter?”

She stood up straight and looked him straight in the eyes, “I know you father, I know that for years you’ve done all you can think of to get mother to love you, to have the family you desired. But I ask you if this is truly what you want to do. Do you truly mean to set Mother aside in favor of another and to have another on the throne?”

He faltered for a moment before standing straight and tall, towering over his daughter, “Yes, and nothing is going to change my decision.”

She should’ve known. Mother always did say that father lied often. Like how he lied that he loved mother with all his heart. Or how he promised that she would be able to lead the Valley of Thorns proudly as Queen one day.

She lowered her eyes in a moment of sadness before glaring up at him in a split second before returning to a neutral face, “If that is your will,” She curtsied, “I hope you’re happy with your decision because there’s no going back. May your reign be long and prosperous, Your Majesty.” She made a quick turn before leaving, head facing forward, hands to her waist and her back straight, an exit filled with formal grace.

On her way to her room, she began to get lost in her thought. Lilia was on his way to see his majesty when he spotted the young first princess walking almost aimlessly. So he called out to her.

“Princess.” Her attention was drawn to the voice calling out to her, she turned to face Lord Lilia, one of her father’s most trusted retainers.

“Lord Lilia, I give my greetings.”

Now, now, princess, you needn’t have to greet this old one,” Lilia waved off her formality.

“Even if you are as you say, an ‘old one’, you are father’s most trustworthy retainer and have served the royal family since the time of my great grandmother, her majesty, The Witch of Thorns. To understate your prestige would be nothing less than rude. But that aside, did you need something of me, Lord Lilia?”

“Why yes, I was wondering how you were doing. I heard you were a touch shaken up after your father announced he would be remarrying and removing your title as heir.”

“I suppose I was shaken up however this matter is something that father has the final say in alone. If he wishes for that woman’s future child to be the next ruler, I have no choice but to set aside any opposition. I just came back from my father’s office and was planning on returning to my room.”

“I see but your highness, you just passed your bedroom door though,” she turned her head back to see the door to her bedroom just a few feet behind her.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… I must have been lost in my thoughts to notice, who knows where I could have ended up. Thank you for notifying me, Lord Lilia.” She turned around to enter her bedroom before remembering something, “Actually Lord Lilia,” The old fae’s ears perked before turning to her, “ I was wondering if you were on your way to see father… I meant to give him some policy proposals regarding the dispute regarding the villages along our border but it must have slipped my mind.”

The old fae smiled, “Actually, I, as a matter of a fact, was indeed on my way to see his majesty, I can deliver it on my way princess.” She smiled before entering her room and coming out with a small stack of papers in hand.

“The first half of the pages consist of a set plan with can act towards for long term and my argument for the plan while the remaining half includes smaller short term solutions that should appease the residents for the time being along with the territory’s lord too.”

Lilia’s face was a tad surprised, though the princess was a young adult to human standards, she was like a baby when compared to the average lifespan of a fae, and yet she comes up with intuitive solutions that most conservative fae would never think of in centuries but then again, look at who her mother is. The first female student of NRC and the young lady who stopped overblot after overblot in her first year alone, “You know to be quite honest your highness, whether or not you become Queen, I’m genuinely curious about what you’ll do for this country.”

“I appreciate the sentiment Lord Lilia but I’m afraid I might not be able to do as much anymore with my title as heir taken from me,” A saddened smile, present on her face. It pained Lilia to see the bright princess he knew with dreams as high as the sky so diminished, “Right now, looking after my mother and sister are what matters to me right now. Now if you excuse I’ll just return to my room.”

“Of course your highness. I’ll be off then.” Lilia left the princess to her own devices before setting off to his original course towards his majesty’s office.

Meanwhile, the princess closed her door before sitting in front of her vanity mirror. “Whew that was too close, I almost got excited in front of Lilia. My whole plan would have been ruined if that had happened.” A smile creeping on her face, “Though I can help but wonder what kind of expression father will have on his face when he sees my policy proposal... regret, annoyance, sadness? Oh, the possibilities.”

Father’s decision will surely backfire on him. She knows her father, to her, it would only be a matter of time before Father realizes that he regrets his decision. Father would never give up on Mother so easily, and the look on his face. He barely showed it but he must not have been aware of how she was harassed by the servants.

No doubt he’ll investigate it further and when he does, he’ll find out the mastermind in no time. After all, if she could do it in less than a week with few resources then he should figure it out in a few days at most. He’ll realize just how untrustworthy the court is and eventually, father will have to admit his mistake and reappoint her.

But until then...Let’s have Father suffer just for a little bit.

She looked at the small frame image of her mother and younger sister, ‘Perhaps I should arrange a tea party for mother and sister in the meantime. I can’t wait to tell them what I have planned.’ Her eyes begin to glow brightly.

The princess looked back at her reflection in her mirror, her green eyes, long black hair, and prominent horns made her a near spitting image of her father. If it weren’t for her facial structure, you wouldn’t see any of the queen’s genetics at all. ‘Oh, I’m sure mother will be excited to have father be away from her after so long. She has been going on about how she just wants some alone time.'

She thinks about how her father’s future second wife. From what she’s heard, the future second queen is a bit of an attention hog so she’ll surely demand father all of his free time. She wonders how long it’ll take before the court realizes their blunder about how the second queen is hardly active anyway outside of gossip tea parties and luxurious ballrooms. Meanwhile, her mother was never one who enjoyed being lavished in luxuries, much to her father’s dismay and worked hard in aiding this nation as a competent figure.

The princess couldn’t wait for the look of frustration on father’s and his retainers’ faces when dealing with this spoiled noble lady and how that woman will look whence realizes that she won’t be getting her happily ever after. Oh, the performance she’ll be able to watch alongside her sister and mother.

“How amusing this show will be...”

~ For Malleus and MC’s eldest daughter, I portrayed her as a cunning woman who cares about her mother deeply and will do what she can to ensure her mother’s happiness. Even if that means making her father miserable in the process.

Also I’m making a part 2 for this as well so expect that to coming soon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst mc #s/w au #my writing #malleus draconia #twst silver #Lilia Vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst kids #no beta read #yandere malleus draconia #malleus draconia x mc #Bane of Our Family

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sif-the-tsunami · 3 years

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When you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart.

Warnings: Yes, all of them. No smut all angst. and no promise of a happy ending. gallows humor, pregnancy loss, infidelity, self medication, spicy language.

Summary: Sy is a cheating bastard and his wife has had enough.

Pairing: Syverson, now a Colonel and his long suffering wife Josephine. (marriage is great guys, I promise.)

Just over 3,300 words.

This might not have been what you were expecting @oddsnendsfanfics

My mother was a genuine Southern debutante, I grew up with pictures of her on the walls with her gorgeous smile and pretty pearl necklaces. Blonde hair and green eyed, she was the most beautiful little slice of American apple pie. Her daddy was the ‘Old Money’ type, and she was his finest accomplishment, she looked, behaved, spoke perfectly. Never once have I heard that woman raise her voice to a man. Hell, I never heard her pass gas in front of anyone for that matter. She is the picture of privilege, she went from her daddy’s house to her sorority house to her husband’s house. Some how, even though she smokes a pack a day, she still looks like she could pass for being forty instead of almost sixty. The last time we saw each other, my friends told me they didn’t know I had an older sister.

Mama married a gentleman who had the good sense to enlist in the military to help support the lifestyle she demanded he provide for her. He was never around much but he gave her a nice house with a lovely front yard, and two little perfect children. He was another one of the old Southern types, I don’t think he ever outright said “I love you, Josephine,” or “I’m proud of you, girl.” Looking back, I don’t think anyone ever did that for him either, so he probably didn’t know how to tell that to me or my brother Theodore. I’m almost sure that he and Mama loved each other once upon a time. Daddy worked hard, he broke his body serving his country, and when he couldn’t do that anymore he broke his own heart trying to please Mama. She must have been disappointed in how her life turned out. She might have had dreams once, when she was younger. I’m pretty sure the last of them were crushed when Daddy died balls deep in the woman who used to perm my Mama’s hair.

Mama played the grieving widow perfectly, not a single person knew that they had been miserable for years. She has worn black out in public ever since. I think the only thing that has really changed is that she has started day drinking now because she’s lonely. I don’t blame her really. She pushed us really hard to be as perfect outwardly as she is, so it is safe to say that she is really disappointed in your truly.

You might be wondering why this all matters, dear reader. However, I find that it is important for you to know this when I tell you I’m remembering this sitting here in the county sheriff’s office, waiting on my Mama to come pick me up because my probably soon to be ex-husband and I got into screaming match, and I may have drunkenly thrown my bottle of tequila at my probably soon to be ex-husband’s head. The details are a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Josephine Syverson, your mother is here to pick you up.” The Sheriff’s deputy starts in his slow drawl, “Now don’t you go pickin’ no fights with your husband. You’re lucky he ain’t pressing charges. Go sleep it off now, Ma’am. I’m sure you two kids will work it out.”

I wait until he can’t see my face to roll my eyes. And low and behold, there she is, my Mama drove four hours to come and pick me up. She’s in a black vintage driving coat, and her hair is covered by a dark gray satin bonnet. It doesn’t matter that it is half past midnight, she is still the beauty queen she has always been. I drank enough Jose Cuervo tonight that my head is still swimming, but I walk with the grace and dignity she taught me.

“Oh my Lord, Josie, what have you done to yourself?” She asks. “Thank you, officers, I’ll get her back on track.”

We make our way out to the car and Mama unlocks the door for me. I slide in and as soon as my butt hits the leather of her seats, I start crying all over again. She gives me the packet of tissues she keeps in her purse then hands a little make-up bag.

“So, what was is this time, Josie, I swear to Lord Jesus that if he laid a hand on you, your brother and I will bury him in the back yard.” She says turning on her Cadillac. “Get cleaned up, you are coming home with me. Maybe James will be smart enough to figure out where you went.”

“Mama?” Who was this woman? She never talks like this.

“Come on, your mama isn’t as dumb as she looks. Although he evidently is.” She lights up a cigarette and offers me one.

“I quit when we started trying… Even after… well… everything, I didn’t start back up.”

She pats my leg. I unzip the bag to find makeup wipes, mascara, face powder and some brick red lipstick. We might not get along all the time but she is a damn life saver. I have black rivers of my own eyeliner and mascara from earlier today streaking my face. I clean myself up as much as I can and then reapply some make-up. “There, now that you are looking better, tell me what happened...”

“Where do you want me to start? I swear this started after his first deployment.”

“Okay, Josie, start there.”

James Syverson is an Army Ranger, I met him after he finished officers school. Because of the nature of military special forces, they deploy more often than most jobs in the military. I understand that they are under a lot of pressure during these deployments and because he is in a position in leadership I opted to give him as much room as he needed. The other officer’s wives informed me that I needed to recalibrate my expectations of what could happen. They warned me that what happens on deployment shouldn’t be held against him when he gets home. And I didn’t, until a girl barely old enough to visit a bar came up to my door asking for my husband with a hand on her belly. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I just looked up Syverson in the phone book, and I didn’t know he was married.”

“Is it his?”

“Ma’am?”

“I can see that you are pregnant. Is. It. His?”

“I… I don’t know…” She said quietly.

“He is still over there. Do not come here again unless you are requesting a paternity test.” And I slammed the door shut. She did come back for the test results when he came home. Turned out that the baby wasn’t his. Small favors, right?

I never faulted the women who fell in love with him. I knew how special he could make them feel, its how I fell in love with him in the first place. After everything he’s put me through it almost doesn’t matter when it is just the two of us. All I have ever wanted was for it to be just the two of us again, but I don’t know think I can wait for him to retire.

“How many times do you think he’s done it?”

“At least once a deployment. The most recent one saw us at the movies last night. He was holding my hand like nothing had ever happened. When he was coming back from the concession stand, a little redhead stopped him and asked who he was here with. When she saw me, she looked like she saw a ghost. He came back up, handed me my pop, kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around me. He said ‘I promise you, it is not what it looks like.’ but the bitch and her friend kept looking over their shoulders to peek at us. I saw her texting someone and then his phone vibrated, but he didn’t look at his phone until I wasn’t with him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She lit up again. “And you’ve just been sitting on this, the entire time?”

“Yeah, I learned from the best, Mama. I didn’t want to let you down. You taught me to never let them see me cry.”

“Oh, my baby girl...”

The rest of the night at the movies, I kept it to myself, I’ve had enough. The boiling, seething hatred I was feeling for both of them. I hate that they are always younger than me. I hate that it always makes me like I’m not enough. When I woke up this morning had a beer in the shower. I always save the last one for him, so taking the last one was a big “fuck you” to him. He tried to climb in with me until he saw me drinking in the shower.

“Woman, what are you doing?” He asked. Like he wasn’t the one who introduced me to the idea of a shower beer.

“I’m going to keep drinking ‘til my heart stops hurting, Sy. I don’t know what else to do. But whatever it is that we keep doing, I can’t keep it up anymore. Get out.” I have never denied him, no matter what he wanted. And up until this morning, I had been an amazing wife to him. In the fifteen years of marriage, he has only had to do his own laundry when he was away from home. And even then, he probable conned someone into doing it for him. I have lost almost every friend I have made from relocating so often. I have started and stopped working on my Master’s degree more times than I can count. And now here I am, mid-thirties with none of my own goals accomplished to show for all of the work I have done over the years. If I had opened my mouth, even once, about his indiscretions, he never would have made it to Colonel. Not once have I complained.

After I dried my body off, I walked into the kitchen, naked as the day I was born and grabbed my trusty kitchen sheers. I needed a change. He paused the game he was playing long enough to watch me walk past him with my scissors and the bottle of margaritas.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning. Being a little dramatic, aren’t we? We going to church today?”

“Why, James? You’ve been yelling ‘Oh my god,’ between some whore’s legs fairly regularly, I’m sure he knows you are a big fan.” I walked away before he could reply, locking the door behind me to our bedroom. He pounded on the door a few times but got the hint that I was not in the mood to be talked to when I turned up Chris LeDoux as loud as I could play it. Then I went to go give myself bangs.

When the music fades, the house is silent. No video games, no football, nothing. I continue to drink from my bottle and the world becomes a little more tolerable. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. Sy teases me all the time about how cheap of a date I am.

“Josephine!” He snaps at me in his soldier voice and I drop the margaritas.

“Jesus fuck, Sy, why you gotta scare me like that.”

“Oh, you are the one getting scared, woman, I have never seen you act like this before.”

“That’s because you ain’t here every time one of your indiscretions comes knocking on the door of my house. Never once have I expected sainthood from you, James, I learned better after your first deployment,” he won’t look me in the eye, either he’s ashamed of what he’s been doing or he is going to punch a whole in the wall tonight. “You would have seen this if you had been around after my daddy died. This is your wife, Syverson, she goes a little crazy from time to time.

“You know how hard I tried to come home for that, that is not fair Josephine.”

“I’m sure you did try. I wish you would try a little harder when it comes to picking out these dumb sluts who think that you are just going to run away from home as soon as you come back from the sandbox. I have received notes on my car windshield telling me that you were going to leave me for them. How you loved them and you were just suffering with me. That I’m hateful, and spiteful, and they could treat you so much better then I ever could. What have you been telling these girls, James, for them to think I am some kind of monster? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What did I do to you to make you hate me this much?”

“I had no idea that they were doing that. I don’t hate you, baby. You have been a better wife than I probably could have ever deserved. Is that what you want to hear? I know I’m a rotten bastard. How long have you been holding this in, Josie?” His face darkens, I can see all the rage boiling up in him too.

“Don’t you call me that name, you son of a bitch.” I spit at him.

“How long?”

“Since Cassandra came up holding her belly, waiting to tell you that she made you a daddy. Too bad it wasn’t the first time, or I actually might have been worried that you’d leave. I hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet before she tried to take you.” I snarled back at him. And he face drops. Twelve years ago, we tried. I was seven months pregnant when I lost our son. Sy’s squad was wiped out after a night of heavy combat. He barely made it out alive himself. I got a phone call about his injuries and I must have made a deal with the devil himself. I would put up with the womanizing, the long distance, the heartache, just please have him come up to me. I would give anything to save him, I had thought. An hour after I got the call that he had woken up and was safely on a ship in the Mediterranean sea, I started to go into early labor.

“Oh, fuck me. That long?” He whispers. He rubs his face, the stubble was getting long, unless he was out in the field, he kept himself within regulations. He reached out to hold me but I shrug off his touch. He walked away from me, thinking that maybe he might let me calm down and we would go back to being a picture perfect couple again. He could just do whatever he wanted and I will grin and bare it.

I cleaned up the mess I made then went back to the bedroom to put on something on me other than shame. We gave each other space until the evening came around. He came in to ask if I had any plans for dinner. Wrong question, buddy. I walked to the kitchen in my tight black yoga pants and a tank top, went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed my favorite bottle of tequila and took three long gulps.

“That’s my plan, worry about yourself.”

“You haven’t had any real food today, you need to eat something.”

“Eat my ass, Colonel.” With that he pins me to the wall, the room spins around me and I start thrashing against him. He’s got probably 100lbs on me and more combative training than I can remember, so as you can well imagine this is going super great for me. I stop long enough to see the tears forming in his eyes. “Was there ever anything special between us, did you keep any part of yourself just for me?”

“Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. I never even implied that I had any feelings towards them. They knew from the beginning it was simply recreational. Jo, you know you are my best friend.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me? Why am I not enough, Sy? Why do they keep getting you at your best, and I have to put all of your broken pieces back together again when you finally do come home.” Remember every time he woke up screaming the names of his fallen friends. When we have to leave BBQ’s early on the 4th of July because the fireworks remind him of mortar shells.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. It has never been anything other than stress relief with them.” The first tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you, Pussycat, now please lets get some food in you. Are you going to be good?”

“Haven’t I always been good. Been good, but not good enough.” I whine and slide down the wall once his hands are off of me. Good lord, where the hell is my dignity.

He lets me go gently and leaves to make me a peanut butter sandwich. While his back is turned, I grab the bottle one more time and take another long swig. This is where the rest of my night is very fuzzy until I came to in the back of the squad car.

He evidently tried to take the bottle from me, I threw it at him, it went wide and smashed against the wall. He took me to the ground, just tried to keep me from hurting either of us and I screamed at him every vile thing I could think of until the sheriff showed up. They tried to take him in, seeing that I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I told them I tried to hurt him, so they handcuffed me and took me in. Before they drove off, James brought a sweater and my purse out for me. I watched a couple of nosy housewives standing at the end of their drive ways. I’m pretty sure I flipped them the bird and they looked at me with disgust.

Now I’m sitting here, in Mama’s Cadillac, licking my wounds.

“Why in the name of God have you not told me about any of this?” Mama asks, this is now her sixth cigarette. I think she’s trying not to turn the car around.

“I thought you would have told me to get over myself and save face.” I say as we pull to her house.

“No, baby girl, I wouldn’t have. No one, especially not my daughter, deserves to be treated like that. Ooo I never liked the boy. Your daddy used to say that cowboy was all hat and no cattle. Let’s get some sleep, Princess. We will go get your stuff in the morning.”

I make my way to my childhood bedroom and collapse down on the bed. Before I close my eyes for the night, I finally check my phone. He had been blowing up my text messages.

I realize that I have never apologized to you about my short comings. But I swear to you, I will get out of the army if you want me to. We can move anywhere you want to, we can start over, just the two of us. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry that you kept this all from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you. These where from six hours ago.

I don’t know when you will get your phone back, I love you. This was from before my mom collected me.

They told me you have been released from custody but didn’t say to who. Who ever picked you up asked them not to tell me. Are you safe?

I love you. Please. Let me know where you are, I’ll come get you. I hope that you are just ignoring me because you are asleep.

I reply to him with a simple Mama picked me up. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.

No ‘I love you’ from me tonight although it killed me not to tell him. Tomorrow, I will figure out if what we have can be saved. But that is tomorrow Josie’s problem.

#captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #henry cavill

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

After Each Midnight Begins A New Day

[Extra #5 - @threephasebird requested that the next extra be some Jin Sibs and Xuanli’s horde of children so here it is! This is (mostly) set post-fic, just as 3zun are on their way to Jinlintai to visit at the end of the last chapter]

[Masterpost]

A quick brief on the children’s names and ages:

Jin Ling (金凌 - rise above) - First son, 20

Jin Fei (金飞 - to fly) - Second son, 17

Jin Yu (金雨 - rain) and Jin Yan (金焰 - fire) - First and Second daughters, 14

Jin Zhuang (金庄 - solemn) - Third son, 12

Jin Lu (金露 - dew) - Third daughter, 7

Jin Ye (金烨 - breathtaking/blaze of fire) - Fourth daughter, 3

As a young boy, Jin Zixuan had often wondered when he would get a sibling. Everyone else had one, it seemed. The Lan Heir had a little brother. The Nie Heir did too. The Jiang Heir got two siblings which seemed like too many, and even those awful Wen boys had each other. He had asked his mother (when he was still young enough to be innocent of the politics of such matters) when he was going to get a didi or meimei of his own, but Madam Jin had just patted his hair and tapped the tip of his nose with her knuckle. It was too gentle of a touch to ever hurt whenever she did that, of course, but he always wrinkled his nose anyway to make her laugh.

Not long after that conversation, he hadn’t gotten a sibling but he had gotten a Mianmian.

She’s technically his shimei, of course, but that hardly matters to him. What does matter is that Luo Qingyang is nothing like the siblings he had imagined for himself when he had asked for one. For starters, she’s older than him by a month, which she makes sure to smugly remind him of at every opportunity. She’s really really polite to adults but annoyingly bossy to him when they get left alone to play. She’s reckless too, and more often than not Jin Zixuan just ends up pouting and dragging his feet as he follows along behind her wherever she wants to run, using his presence at her side as an excuse to sneak into every family-only part of Jinlintai that she can.

By the time they’re 10, though, he loves her fiercely as the sister he can understand by now that he’s never going to get to have. His parents hardly ever see each other, after all, and while he still isn’t totally sure how siblings are made he’s definitely sure that parents have to see each other more often than a few awkward meals a week for it to happen. It’s alright though, he has Mianmian to keep him company and make fun of him whenever he says something dumb (or yell at his cousins when they try to make fun of him for the same).

As they grow, she’s at his side for every important event in his life, as he is for hers. Every birthday, every New Year’s, every important training milestone they get to share. She’s even at his side for the meeting when they’re 14 where it’s announced that he is engaged to Jiang Yanli of the Yunmeng Jiang. Mianmian laughs for so long at that one once they’re alone that his own crushing panic recedes enough for him to punch her in the shoulder and tell her to knock it off, which of course does as little good as ever.

(To this day he still laughs when he remembers the look on her face when she’d heard he was going to get married one day - the shock followed by quickly-repressed snickers throughout the rest of the meeting that had been mercifully, tactfully ignored by the adults in attendance.)

Soon after they turn 16, they’re both there at the main hall the day that a boy who looks to be close to his own age presents himself at Jinlintai to ask for discipleship, claiming blood ties to...to Jin Guangshan as his reason for coming to Lanling all the way from Yunping, rather than going to the Jiang. Jin Zixan is helpless to do anything but watch on in wide-eyed shock as his father kicks the boy down all those stairs, Mianmian’s shocked gasp at his elbow echoing his own as everyone else in the vicinity watches on impassively. They watch together in fascinated horror from their hiding spot behind a large statue to the side of the stairs as the boy somehow manages to pick himself up off the ground at the bottom and bow to Jin Guangshan at the top of the tower with flawless form, the blood on his forehead and the stiffness in his chest as he bows visible even from where they are.

“Oh no,” Mianmian says softly under her breath when he turns to leave. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Maybe...Hopefully,” he replies, numbly, still reeling from the idea that he might have...a brother? A half-brother? Certainly if his mother had given birth to the boy he wouldn’t have been living in Yunping, he would have been there in Lanling with the rest of the family. Besides, there’s no way Madam Jin had been pregnant with..twins (judging by their apparently similar ages) and he hadn’t known it, or no one had mentioned it. Either way - this boy thinks he’s Jin Zixuan’s brother, and his father has just kicked him down the stairs for it. In front of everybody. It’s..jarring, to say the least.

It isn’t long after the boy’s dejected departure from Jinlintai that Jin Zixuan is forced to confront his own feelings about the rumors of his father’s...exploits. Not that he hadn’t heard snippets of it before, snide comments muttered behind hands and under breaths, but they always seemed..unimportant. Just idle gossip, and Madam Jin has never been anything but perfectly (if a bit coldly) civil to Jin Guangshan in the rare times they’re in the same room. It had always seemed best to follow her example and ignore it, but now...well now there’s the boy who had come to them with an honest request, a valid one, and had been kicked down the tower for it, just for being physical proof of the rumors that had always circulated. He can’t ignore it any longer.

Jin Zixuan doesn’t know what to do about it, of course, and he eventually has to acknowledge that there’s nothing he can do, but that still doesn’t keep him from thinking about it until even Mianmian grows tired of his fretting over it all.

Despite his agonizing over the subject, when he sees the boy again in Cloud Recesses two years later as a retainer with the young Nie-gongzi, Jin Zixuan doesn’t even recognize him at first. He personally feels it’s justified considering the circumstances of the only time he had ever seen him (besides the fact that Jiang Yanli - perpetually trailed by her obnoxious brothers - is proving far more of a distraction than he had anticipated), but Mianmian still cuffs him on the ear for it once they’re in private.

“What are you going to say to him?” she demands at the end of her lecture about it, arms crossed over her chest and that mulish look on her face that he had learned to fear a long time ago.

“Wh-what would I even say to him?” he retorts quickly, horrified at the thorny social situation this presents. He isn’t even good at the normal ones, what is he supposed to say to his supposed half-brother who is living, breathing proof of an extramarital affair, and who has been resoundly refused entry into Jinlintai in such a horrible, public fashion? A half-brother who is, apparently, now a member of the Nie Sect and has gained enough of Nie-Zongzhu’s favor to be sent to Cloud Recesses during the lecture season to look after Nie Huaisang, who everyone knows Nie Mingjue doesn’t trust with just anybody…

Where to even begin?!

(Jin Zixuan also laughs about that now, how scared he had been of his brother and how unimpressed Mianmian had been with all of his arguments on his own behalf. He has never once in his life been good at arguing with her, after all.)

In the end, he’s lucky enough a couple of weeks into their studies to have an opportunity to pull Meng Yao aside and stammer through the apology he had rehearsed over the last few days with Mianmian’s help. He apologizes as profusely as he can manage for his father’s behavior towards him, as well as extends a tentative request that they get to know each other better as half-brothers even if Jin Guangshan won’t like it. None of it is polite or graceful, in fact he knows that some of it is inadvertently uncouth bordering on offensive, but Meng Yao still accepts all of it with wide-eyed surprise and, when Jin Zixuan finally stumbles to a verbal halt, with a small, affectionate smile on his handsome face.

----

He finds Mo Xuanyu next.

Word had reached him by letter one day from a woman in a small village who had finally worked up the courage to attempt to appeal to Jin Guangshan on their son’s behalf, only for her to find out from her sister, the Madam of the local main family, that Jin Guangshan is several years dead. She had appealed to him instead, of course, as the boy’s brother and Jin Zixuan had taken Jiang Yanli to Mo Manor with him so they could learn the truth for themselves.

Mo Xuanyu is...wary of meeting him, which Jin Zixuan doesn’t fault him for for a second. In fact he had expected it, which is partially why he had brought Jiang Yanli along (besides the fact that he also just enjoys traveling with his wife).

He meets with Second Madam Mo and her son in as neutral of a space as he can find - and alone, to begin with. It’s clear within minutes of observing the boy that he’s a Jin even before Second Madam Mo outlines the events that had given her her son. Jin Zixuan does his best to reassure her that Mo Xuanyu will be welcome as a visitor in Jinlintai should he wish to come, that he will be legitimized if he wants to be, and that he will be allowed to train with the other disciples as well whether he wants to be legitimized or not.

He doesn’t do a very good job of explaining it, unfortunately (nor does he think he managed a very good job of inspiring any sort of confidence in him as a leader, which is unfortunately a frequent occurrence without Jiang Yanli or Mianmian with him to help him talk). As is usually the case after such instances, he finds himself pleading with Jiang Yanli that evening for her help. The pair of them visit the Second Madam Mo and her son in their home on the Mo estate the following day, and Jiang Yanli charms them both so thoroughly that Mo Xuanyu agrees to pack his things and come home with them two days later, with his mother’s full support.

It quickly becomes clear once they arrive in Jinlintai and Mo Xuanyu settles into his cultivation training with some of the younger children that while he is a Jin in name (sort of) and looks, he is infinitely.. weirder than any other Jin that Jin Zixuan has ever met.

By now he and Meng Yao have both put in the work to have formed something of a decent - if still slightly stilted - relationship, and so he’s become well aware even in their relatively limited interactions that his brother works hard to be an unfailingly polite and graceful sort of gentleman. And of course he still thinks of Mianmian like a sister even now that he has made her his Second; and while her behavior is much more brash than his own or Meng Yao’s she still knows the rules of society and chooses to follow them whenever necessary. Besides, she’s a Luo, not a Jin, despite being raised pretty much exclusively in Jinlintai. She gets a free pass.

Mo Xuanyu had been cheerful enough during the trip to Jinlintai with Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli but also on his best behavior, and Jin Zixuan supposes (a bit too late) that being surprised by what has followed is his own fault for assuming that the boy’s nervousness and uncertainty during that trip with two strangers - powerful strangers - was a good representation of his permanent personality.

Long story short - Mo Xuanyu comes to Jinlintai and raises absolute hell.

Jiang Yanli adores him.

Mo Xuanyu clings to her like a burr in response, soaking up her indulgence and the unfailingly kind older-sister energy that she exudes at all times like he’s been desperate for it, for the gentle love of a woman as incredible as Jiang Yanli. And not that Jin Zixuan had ever planned on going back on his promise to legitimize the boy and maintain his offer of a place for him in Jinlintai, but now he truly can’t even begin to consider it after seeing how excited Mo Xuanyu is to find siblings, nieces and nephews, and friends there.

Jin Zixuan legitimizes his youngest brother in an official ceremony conducted by himself and Meng Yao after the first year of Mo Xuanyu’s cultivation training, once his golden core has formed and he is able to begin his true discipleship alongside the younger students at similar levels of cultivation - Jin Ling and his peers, in fact.

And Mo Xuanyu just...stays. His mother had traveled to Lanling to visit him a few times early on when he could take breaks from his training, but after she passes away Mo Xuanyu declares in the midst of his grief that without his mother there’s nothing and no one in Mo Manor to draw him back, and he becomes a permanent fixture of life in the tower - perpetual wild child Mo Xuanyu, with his insistence on wearing black and red clothing (which he swears has nothing to do with Wei Wuxian but he fools absolutely no one), his absolutely wildly dramatic personality, his equally dramatic makeup, his loud laughter.

He proves himself very quickly to be excellent for irritating the Sect elders whenever necessary, and Jin Zixuan privately enjoys watching the stuffy old men try to figure out how to handle his brother’s...unique brand of flamboyance. Of course he’s usually just as flummoxed as they are, the difference is that he’s very fond of it and they are definitely not.

These days, Mo Xuanyu’s position in Jinlintai is more secure than ever. He’s a source of fun and lightheartedness at family gatherings, he’s an attentive presence during the children’s lessons and he plays with them whenever they would like during their leisure time. He’s a wonderful brother and uncle, in his own way, and a cheerful presence wherever he goes.

He also makes for a good litmus test, of sorts. Everyone who deals with the Jin Sect regularly knows of him by now, and Jin Zixuan has gotten into the habit of making sure to keep a careful eye on anyone who dares to step into his home and speak unduly harshly about his youngest sibling. He learned early on to be wary of how that sort of rigid attitude may negatively impact policies they plan to propose or favors they need to ask. He’s also not above deploying Mo Xuanyu himself to handle them in the most obscenely awkward ways he can devise - and those are many and varied. Jin Zixuan himself had stopped getting embarrassed by it a long time ago out of a sense of self-preservation, but others are not so fortunate.

And that had been enough.

Two surprise brothers plus a Mianmian (not to mention his six brothers-in-law plus his and Jiang Yanli’s four children with their fifth on the way at the time) had been more family than he had ever dared to dream of, let alone knew what to do with now that he had it.

But then, not long after Mo Xuanyu’s declaration at 16 that he will be remaining in Jinlintai for the rest of his life if at all possible, Jin Zixuan and Meng Yao take a short trip together to Laoling Qin to discuss a bit of trade business.

Qin Cangye had very politely requested that any discussions they needed to have with him be held in his own home as his wife was too ill to travel, and with Mianmian to run things in his stead in Lanling for a few days (and as many nurses as Jiang Yanli could ever need to help with the children for the short-term) he had been more than willing to travel to accommodate. He had also been perfectly happy to conduct the business they needed to with nothing that threatened to distract him - right up until their second full evening in the Qin home when Meng Yao had approached him in his room after dinner, unusually serious even for him, and told Jin Zixuan that he needed to listen to something important Madam Qin wanted to tell them.

He had listened to her and her handmaid, and he had believed them, and he had been unsurprised to find himself thinking quite uncharitably of his father following his promise to Madam Qin that he would do everything in his power to make it right, as much as he could.

They return to Jinlintai the day after the next, once their business is concluded. He’s relieved when nothing needs his immediate attention as it means he’s free to retreat into his and Jiang Yanli’s quarters so he can tell her everything that’s weighing on his mind.

“No more surprise siblings from now on,” he sighs into the comfort of Jiang Yanli chest when he’s finished outlining what has happened and his plans to prepare a new suite of rooms in the family wing of the tower. For Qin Su. His sister.

Jiang Yanli just laughs her tinkling laugh and kisses him, her hands gentle as she combs his hair back from his face with her fingertips. “You’ve got more siblings now than any of the rest of us,” she teases with a mischievous smile down at him that is a bit too reminiscent of, weirdly, both Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu for comfort. “Two brothers, a sister, and of course we must keep Mianmian in her spot on the list. If you would like to count brothers-in-law as well you’ve also got A-Xian, A-Cheng, Huaisang, Wangji, Xichen, and Mingjue...”

He groans and hides his face properly in the soft silk of her robes even as she laughs again over his head.

“Young boys who ask their mothers for more siblings should be careful what they ask for, shouldn’t they?” Another kiss, this time to his cheek, and he accepts it with a sigh. He certainly can’t deny that his misguided childhood jealousy has certainly been made null. He has a much bigger family than he could have ever imagined.

It’s nice to feel that, finally, Jinlintai is full to bursting with people who genuinely care about him, and who he is allowed to care about in return.

----

Most of that happened long enough ago, though, that these days Jin Zixuan actually has some trouble bringing the memories back to the surface at first demand (though he knows that he’ll never truly forget the ways he had come to know - and subsequently legitimize - all three of his biological siblings).

“A-Xuan?” Jiang Yanli calls now from the doorway of his personal office. Her voice is as soft as always, but it’s tinged with his favorite variety of amusement - the kind caused by the mischief of any member of their (enormous) family. He looks up to find her holding a letter from Gusu judging by the distinctive blue, one eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips. “Were you aware that A-Yu has apparently been begging A-Yao to pay us a visit for over a month?”

“No I wasn’t, but I’m not surprised,” he replies with a sigh and a shake of his head. He loves Mo Xuanyu, of course he does, but he will readily admit that the ever-unbridled chaos of his youngest brother still makes him wonder how they’re related even now over a decade into their relationship. “Can I assume that A-Yao and our brothers-in-law have caved to his demands?” he adds with a gesture towards the letter. Jiang Yanli tucks a gentle laugh into the embroidered cuff of her sleeve.

“They have indeed, A-Yu will be so pleased. They’ve asked to spend a while here though - longer than their last few visits have been at least but A-Yao didn’t specify precisely how long they’d like. I’m going to tell them that anything they want is perfectly fine, unless you have a reason not to accept?”

“No, there’s nothing I can think of. Did they say why they want to stay so long? Is everything alright?”

“They didn’t say, but I think they’re fine. A-Yao only says here that they need a change of scenery for a while and A-Chen suggested they travel. I’ll go ahead and send our acceptance, then?”

Jin Zixuan nods and returns to the report he’s reading. After so many years together, though, he knows enough about his wife not to be surprised when she steps further into the room to put a hand on his shoulder and lean down to press her forehead against his temple for a long, quiet moment. He lets his eyes drift shut as he takes a deep breath in of the familiar scent of the lotus-scented oil she wears in her hair and the hint of incense still clinging to her skin from her morning meditation to help strengthen her core.

“I’ll be playing with the children in the garden when you’re finished if you’d like to come find us,” she murmurs against his cheek and punctuates it with a kiss, offering him precisely what he needs after a long morning of dealing with Sect business - both with the affectionate gesture and with the promise of getting to enjoy spending time with her and their children.

He doesn’t mind being Sect Leader of course, and in fact the job is much easier these days than he had ever expected it to be when he had been a young teenager observing the workings of it under his father’s...less than dedicated hand. But he still privately thinks sometimes that he’s much more cut out for corralling his and Jiang Yanli’s children than he is the Jin Sect.

“Make sure Ling-er practices his sword forms, either against a training dummy or the twins if they want to play with him.”

Jiang Yanli’s quiet chuckle against his cheek is one of his favorite sounds in the world.

“You already know they’d love to team up and see if they can finally win against him. I’ll fetch their practice swords in case they want to use them. You’ll join us, won’t you?”

“Of course,” he reassures, turning his head to look up at her and meet her smile with one of his own. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

----

“All I’m saying Li-jie,” Mo Xuanyu posits loudly from the ground where he’s currently buried under a small mountain of gold robes, flailing limbs, and shrieks of laughter, “Is that if you’ve already got seven you might as well go for an even ten, wouldn’t that be satisfying?!”

“A-Yu,” Qin Su admonishes from a bench nearby, not even bothering to look up from her embroidery. “If you think the children need more playfellows I’m sure we could find you a wonderful husband to adopt your own children with.”

“Absolutely not! Can you imagine me as a father? Disastrous. But if you’re offering to play matchmaker I might actually take you up on that.”

“No matchmaking, you two,” Jin Zixuan sighs as he enters the private family garden and joins Jiang Yanli where she’s sitting at the edge of her lotus pond trailing her fingertips through the water and watching the chaos that is their family unfold around her with a beatific smile on her lips. “Please, I’m begging you, our family is already confusing enough and you’ve both promised me you have no intentions of marrying. Since when do you even want to get married, A-Yu?”

“Listen to me very carefully, A-Xuan - ” he starts with a meaningful waggle of his darkened brows, “I look at what A-Yao has, if you know what I mean, and then I look at what I have, and I just think there’s definitely some room for..improvement in my situation, that’s all.”

Jin Zixuan lifts his chin a bit to give his responding eye-roll the best effect he can while Jiang Yanli and Qin Su both giggle into their sleeves and Jin Ling makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat that carries all the way across the garden.

“Okay first of all, don’t talk about Uncle Jue and Uncle Chen like that, that’s disgusting.”

“Well they’re not my uncles, kid, I can talk about them however I want.”

“Second of all - hey! Quit calling me ‘kid’, we’re the same generation!”

“Enough, you two,” Zixuan sighs to head off the too-familiar argument that Mo Xuanyu is clearly working himself up for with one of his signature borderline-manic grins that makes most Sect Leaders shrink away in fear. “Lu-er, Xiao-Ye let your Uncle Yu get up off the ground, please.” It takes a moment for their two youngest daughters to untangle themselves from where they’ve tackled Mo Xuanyu to the ground but once they’re free they come running to him instead to clamber into his lap, little Jin Ye throwing her arms around his neck and snuggling into his chest immediately as Jin Lu tucks herself into his side under his free arm to start playing with his fingers.

Jin Zixuan sighs again as Mo Xuanyu makes a little show out of rolling to his feet and readjusting his hair and clothes, dabbing at his makeup to make sure nothing has smudged in the tussle. He dusts himself off one more time with a definitive pat before winking and turning his crooked grin on Jin Ling. Their eldest son is waiting for Jin Yu and Jin Yan to get their breath back from their latest bout against him - the twins leaning their weights on their wooden practice swords and clutching their sides - which means that he has no excuse not to listen to Mo Xuanyu’s teasing. (Jin Zhuang, he notices, is sitting on the other side of their sparring circle in a patch of shade cast by a tree and the side of the closest building - well away from the antics of his siblings - to alternate between watching the sparring and practicing his painting on a portable little desk balanced on his knees.)

“Listen to your wise old uncle, Xiao-Ling,” Mo Xuanyu teases, recalling Jin Zixuan’s attention to him and Jin Ling. “You’ll understand when you get to be my age just how nice it might be to have a big strong husband or two to look after you!”

“We’re classmates!!” Jin Ling insists again, beginning to sound desperate as his face goes bright red - though whether it’s out of embarrassment from the teasing about husbands or irritation at being needled about his age is unclear. Jin Zixuan suspects it’s a bit of both.

“A-Yu come help me finish unpacking from my trip before you send our nephew into qi-deviation. I’ll teach you a new huadian to wear as repayment,” Qin Su calls as she stands, graceful as ever. She tucks her embroidery into her sleeve and holds her arm out for Mo Xuanyu to take; he can never resist dramatic gestures and true to form his entire face lights up with mischievous delight, the expression exaggerated by the dark lines of kohl around his eyes, his painted lips, and his rouged cheeks. He bounds over to her to take her proffered arm with a comically genteel air, sweeping her gallantly from the courtyard towards her suite of rooms with such over-the-top fawning that they can hear her sweet laughter bouncing off of the nearby buildings even after they’ve turned the corner out of sight of the garden.

“Dad - ,” Jin Ling pouts, eyebrows drawn down.

“He’ll tire of the joke soon enough, A-Ling,” Jiang Yanli soothes with poorly-concealed mirth before Jin Zixuan can reply similarly. “There are worse things than having an uncle who enjoys a bit of teasing every now and then. Show your father your new sword forms now that you’re warmed up, you’ve been doing so well.”

Jin Zixuan settles his youngest daughters more comfortably in his arms as the twins return to their ready stances against their oldest brother, identical steely glints of focus in their eyes as they resume their sparring. Jin Zhuang brings his painting desk out of the shade to settle in with him and Jiang Yanli now that they’ve created a peaceful center for the family to orient themselves around, and Jin Zixuan feels his chest grow warm with affection as he relaxes into the soothing patterns of quality time with his children.

There are, he thinks, much worse ways to spend an afternoon.

----

Most people, Jin Zixuan thinks, would likely be surprised to find that as wild as their family is, dinners together are frequently calm affairs. Tonight is slightly more raucous than usual as Jin Fei has just returned from the first night hunt he’s led by himself, but it’s still much calmer than any outside observer would have reason to expect from them.

Jin Fei has finished giving his report - with none of the extra boasting that his older brother would pepper into the story were it his to tell - when Jiang Yanli clears her throat delicately for attention, which all of the children dutifully give her. (Well, except for little Jin Ye, who’s busy clambering into Mo Xuanyu’s lap so that she can smile sweetly up at him to demand he feed her the rest of her dinner).

“We received a letter yesterday from your uncles in Cloud Recesses,” she begins with a soft smile, “and you all owe your Uncle Yu a thank you for asking Uncle Yao to come and visit - they have accepted his invitation and will arrive within the week.”

There’s a general excited commotion as all the children start talking at once - beginning with their thanks to Mo Xuanyu as instructed and then shouting to and over each other as they begin arguing over who’s going to get to spend the most time with them.

“WHAT?!” Mo Xuanyu practically screeches, much to Jin Ye’s displeasure if her pout and hands over her ears are anything to go by. “I’ve been bugging him for weeks and he writes to you to accept?! The nerve! The gall!”

“A-Yu,” Jiang Yanli giggles while Jin Zixuan glares at his youngest brother for daring to be offended by anything involving Jiang Yanli.

“Ah sorry Li-jie, sorry. But Su-jie, back me up! He should have replied to me!”

“Li-jie is Madam Jin,” Qin Su replies implacably with a soft smile at Jiang Yanli. “It is proper for him to address a request to visit us to her before you, and A-Yao always follows proper etiquette.”

“Betrayal,” he accuses with a jab of his chopsticks in her direction that’s firm enough to make the ornaments in his hair jingle. “Betrayal by my own jiejie, I don’t believe this. Xiao-Ye, can you believe your aunts?” He directs the last to the toddler in his lap who’s reaching out for one of his dumplings with a bare hand - he immediately pinches it between his chopsticks to hold it in front of her mouth for her so she can munch on little nibbles of it. “Xiao-Ye is the only person in this family who loves and respects me, I’m stealing her and running away with her to escape your cruelty.”

“That’s not true, Uncle Yu,” Jin Yan pipes up around her next bite, which she quickly swallows when Jin Zixuan gives her a look. “Uncle Xian thinks you’re alright sometimes too,” she teases with that wicked grin of hers and Jin Zixuan has to duck his head to hide a smile at the wounded noise Mo Xuanyu offers by way of reply before he settles in to grumble to himself while he feeds Jin Ye like the little princess she already is.

“Father?” Jin Zhuang says softly from where he has come to stand beside him. Jin Zixuan leans over a bit, away from the table, to make it easier for their third son to step close enough to speak as quietly as he likes. “May I show Uncle Chen my paintings?”

“I think he would like that, Zhuang-er, that’s a good idea,” Jin Zixuan replies in an undertone with a nod. “If you ask him to, he may even paint with you. Have you finished your dinner?” Jin Zhuang nods and steps closer to his side as there’s a sudden burst of laughter from Jin Yu and Jin Yan at whatever Jin Ling has just said. “Would you like to go somewhere quiet until it’s calmer in here?” Another nod from Jin Zhuang which Jin Zixuan returns with one of his own. “Alright, that’s fine. I’ll send Aunt Su to come and fetch you when your siblings and Uncle Yu have settled again, okay? Don’t go far.”

Jin Zhuang offers him a quick bump of his head against his before he retreats, slipping out of one of the side doors to go wait in the quiet of the hallway until things are less overwhelming. Jin Zixuan turns back to the rest of his family who are still discussing what they’d like to do now that they know they’ll have fresh entertainment.

“Do you think Uncle Jue will spar with all four of us at once? We could probably take him out, don’t you think A-Ling?”

“You two couldn’t even beat me and Uncle Jue is like, twice my age!”

“Size, too,” Jin Fei drawls.

“Well we can’t all be Nies, and you’re still shorter than me!” Jin Ling huffs with a punch to his second brother’s shoulder.

“Shut up you two, stop arguing for just five minutes, you’re so annoying. Yanyan is right - four of us together against one, we could do it!”

“You want to fight Uncle Jue?!” Jin Lu pipes up in horror. “Why?!!”

“It’s alright A-Lu, don’t be upset. It’s the same reason the four of us train with our swords together, or like when we practice with dad sometimes,” Jin Fei is quick to reassure while Jin Ling is busy sticking his tongue out at the twins. “It’s fun for us and it’s good training, we don’t want to actually hurt Uncle Jue.”

“He’ll kick your bratty little butts anyway, and I’ll bet he does it without even breaking a sweat,” Mo Xuanyu asserts as he wipes Jin Ye’s face clean with a bit of his sleeve. “There you go sweetheart, all done. Go sit with your mom so Uncle Yu can finish eating.” Jin Ye stands up obediently to come around the table, clamber into Jiang Yanli’s extended arms to settle in the cradle of her lap, and promptly close her eyes.

“He would not!” Jin Ling argues instantly, of course.

“Would so. He’s been training with a saber - bigger than a sword, remember - since he was younger than you and I were when we first touched our swords, Lingling. And A-Fei is right, he’s got height, weight, and bulk on his side. He’ll kick your butts.”

“Well I want to try anyway,” Jin Yu reasserts as Jin Yan nods along beside her. “If nothing else we can turn it into a game to see just how quickly he can beat us, if it turns out we really can’t beat him.”

“Oh that’s a good idea. A-Zhuang could keep score, right? Hey. Where’d he go?” Jin Ling looks around sharply, searching for his third brother.

“You were all yelling so he left,” Jin Yan supplies, talking with her mouth full again.

“Oh. Oops.”

“You can apologize when he comes back,” Qin Su offers before looking at Jiang Yanli. “Li-jie, we should arrange to have tea with just A-Yao at least a few times while they’re here. He needs to catch us up on his gossip and we need to tell him ours.”

“I’m sure he’ll accept, it’s been far too long since the three of us have sat down to talk together,” Jiang Yanli replies, and as if by magic the atmosphere settles again as the children respond automatically to the gentle steadiness of their mother and aunt. “I believe Zhuang-er will be able to come back in now,” Jiang Yanli adds with a pointed look at the children that warns them to keep their calm for the rest of the meal for their brother’s sake.

They all nod and return to eating and chatting at a more reasonable volume as Qin Su rises to poke her head out into the corridor. She returns immediately with Jin Zhuang at her side, his hand in hers until he releases it to return to his seat between the twins.

“A-Zhuang,” Jin Fei says once he’s seated across from him. “We’re sorry for being too loud. If we come up with a game to play with Uncle Jue can you keep score for us? You’re the best at watching and keeping track of what happens while we spar. A-Lu can call out whatever you need to say to us while we play.”

Jin Zhuang takes a long moment to consider this in silence, as is his habit, before he nods once firmly and picks up his teacup to take a slow sip while his older brothers and sisters grin first at him then at each other.

“This is going to be so fun,” Jin Lu gushes with a dreamy little sigh into her soup that makes all of her older siblings laugh, even Jin Zhuang with his silent chuckle hidden behind his hand.

Jin Zixuan looks around the table at their family - loving, loud, wild, and theirs, and, not for the first time nor the last, wonders just how in the world he got so lucky.

----

By some small miracle, he and Jiang Yanli manage to gather all the children and get them looking presentable enough in time to greet their uncles when they arrive several days later. He looks for some sign as they approach that something is secretly wrong to have prompted the visit, but they seem alright at first glance. Of course any closer examination that could possibly tell him otherwise is abruptly made completely impossible when they’re promptly swarmed by all of the children save for Jin Ling and Jin Fei, both of whom are too old to run to them and cling around waists and knees to better clamor for gifts and stories with the rest of their siblings.

Jin Zixuan can only shake his head with fond dismay as he watches Jin Ye immediately try to cling to Meng Yao in between his husbands while Jin Zhuang drifts over to stop next to Lan Xichen so that he can stay away from the main hubbub and still slip one hand into his uncle’s with amusing gravity. Jin Lu studies the three of them for a moment before she decides to hug Lan Xichen first as he’s the easiest target, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his legs as she clings. Nie Mingjue, of course, is immediately swamped by the twins who flank him to start talking about something with broad gestures - he sees Jin Yan make a stabbing motion after a moment and Jin Zixuan realizes they’re likely talking about their newest obsession - knives. A father’s dream.

“Out of my way brats, those are my brothers!” Mo Xuanyu suddenly shouts as he comes streaking out from the nearest building, practically a blur of black and red aimed straight at Meng Yao who has lifted little Jin Ye up in front of himself in his arms to better listen to her intently as she babbles to him.

“A-Yu!” Jin Zixuan chastises tiredly with a sigh even as Nie Mingjue sticks an arm out to catch Mo Xuanyu in midair right at the last moment before he can barrel into any of the children or Meng Yao, who, to his credit, hasn’t even twitched (though Jin Zixuan is absolutely sure that he knew Mo Xuanyu had been running straight for him). He always manages to forget how strong Nie Mingjue is until he sees an example like that; he hadn’t even jolted when Mo Xuanyu’s full weight had collided with his arm, and while Jin Zixuan won’t ever claim to be attracted to any of his brothers-in-law, he’s also not blind to the virtues of men. He can at least admit that he doesn’t fault Mo Xuanyu for his desire to find someone like that for himself.

“Mo Xuanyu,” Nie Mingjue greets, as gruff as ever with his brows drawn low over his eyes and his expression stony. He stares just long enough to make Mo Xuanyu laugh a bit nervously before he drops him back on his feet to reach down and pick up Jin Lu, who has released Lan Xichen in favor of tugging on Nie Mingjue’s belt and holding her arms up to him in silent request. She settles happily on his hip like she belongs there as he resumes his conversation with the twins, her head instantly landing on his shoulder and one hand curling around the collar of his robes as she snuggles in.

As always, watching his brother and brothers-in-law interact with the children does something funny in his chest, and just as he’s thinking of reaching down to take Jiang Yanli’s hand next to his to try to do something with that feeling, she slips it comfortably into the crook of his elbow as she lays her head on his shoulder in silent understanding and agreement.

There will be a formal banquet to welcome them later, of course. But for now the only people around are the members of the family themselves and those who have been living and working in Jinlintai long enough to have seen the rather informal comings and goings of every member of the extended family. There’s nothing official about this greeting, just loved ones reuniting. Happy. Together.

Jin Zixuan glances over to Jin Ling at his left when his son nudges him with an elbow only to find him smirking over at him. His son doesn’t even have to look up at him to do it anymore, and Jin Zixuan still can’t quite pinpoint when that happened.

“Tearing up, dad?” Jin Ling jokes, jerking his chin up in a proud gesture that Jin Zixuan will deny having ever been the example for him to learn from until the day he dies.

“You say that like he doesn’t cry every time any of our uncles come to visit,” Jin Fei sighs from the other side of Jiang Yanli. His posture is relaxed enough - he’s got his arms crossed loosely behind himself and his head tipped back as if studying the clouds and his tone is light and easy. The laid-back attitude is only marred by the fact that there’s clearly a teasing smirk dancing on his lips. “You didn’t cry for me when I got back from my night hunt the other evening. Should I be jealous, dad?”

“Boys,” Jiang Yanli cuts in to chastise with all the affection she can muster - which is, of course, quite a lot. “Your father enjoys having everyone home, that’s all. Be good and go say hello to your uncles, I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

They snicker but step away without any further argument, closing ranks immediately to walk across the courtyard shoulder-to-shoulder so they can put their heads together to laugh about something - Jin Zixuan, most likely.

“They look alright, don’t you think?” Jiang Yanli murmurs.

“I do. I’ll ask A-Yao to be sure when I can see him in private, but I think you were right - there doesn’t seem to be anything urgent.”

“A relaxed family visit, then,” she sighs happily, clearly smiling as she nuzzles her cheek a little more firmly against his shoulder and he drops a kiss to the top of her head before she straightens back up again. “It’ll be so lovely to have them here.”

“I’ve missed them,” he admits for her ears alone and Jiang Yanli squeezes the crook of his elbow in silent understanding.

#The untamed fanfic #Xuanli #Jin Zixuan #Jiang Yanli #Mo Xuanyu #Qin Su #3zun #right at the end #if anyone sees any issues with the names for all these children please don't hesitate to tell me I'm totally fine with changing #anything that should have been different to be more accurate #y'all would not believe the amount of age math I've done for all of this please don't look at any of it too closely #also if anyone wants my MANY headcanons in a bullet-list format let me know and I'll post some #there are Many of them with so many fun oc's lol #also if anything about the children or anything is unclear don't hesitate to ask for clarification!#oh headcanons can be about mianmian too even tho I didn't give her any real screentime in this (sorry!)

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themissinghippogriff · 4 years

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|mornings after| ( a drabble)

Do I know what that says? No, put he’s pretty so (◕ ω ◕✿)

Warnings: Le steam

Description: Fluff, I wrote as of sort of a ‘ thinking and writing’. Just you and Remus first getting together ft. Sirius and James.

Word Count: 1.3k+

Requested by anon, btw if this isn’t smthg you wanted I plan on posting more Remus fluff/smut uwu

#####

" Are you sure Moony wants us to come over? I don't think he would enjoy a surprise visit so close to the full moon, he's usually going through one of his moods,"

James laughed at his friend, " The worst he could do is yell at us, now c'mon Siri,"

The ebony-haired man scoffed and made his way toward the small cottage where Remus stayed, " Don't call me that,"

James snickered and practically skipped to the door before knocking. Sirius came up beside him and sighed as his friend began to bang on the door when no one answered, " I'm telling you Prongs, this is a bad idea, Moony-,"

The door swung open and the two were left staring at the back of the room.

" Good morning, well it's almost noon, are you... uh here to drop off the Chinese?"

The two looked down to see a girl around their age. She had (Y/H/C) hair, (Y/S/T) skin, and she was only wearing a beige sweater that practically swallowed her.

The men's eyes widened and they glanced at each other awkwardly. It was obvious the girl had just rolled out of bed due to her hair being an absolute mess, looking as though she had spent the night headbanging to one of Sirius's eight tracks.

" We don't have any Chinese..." replied Sirius.

The girl fiddled with the hem of her long sleeve, " Let me just get Remus," she said quickly, ducking her head in embarrassment. She spun around and raced to the bedroom, giving James and Sirius a nice view of her bum in Remus's briefs.

" Bloody fucking Hell," James breathed, entering the house, followed by Sirius.

The latter had a shit-eating grin on his face and barked a laugh, " We leave him alone for a week and he's sleeping around? Hell, I'm just glad he's not going to die a virgin,"

" It's just a very un-Remus like thing, is she a muggle?"

Before Sirius could offer his opinion Remus came out of the bedroom with a sweater and plaid pajama pants, " 'Ello," he said casually, " I see you've met, (Y/N),"

James opened his mouth and then closed it, " Yes,"

Remus ran a hand through his shaggy hair, " Yeah..."

Sirius looked between the two of them, " Oui,"

The werewolf leaned against the wall, " We met about two weeks ago at the apothecary,"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, " No offense mate, but you're shit at potions, what were you doing at an apothecary,"

The pale man pursed his lips, uncomfortable with the question, " I was seeing how much the ingredients for... for the wolfsbane potion is,"

The other two sent him an understanding look, " Ah, but anyway, how did she end up in your bed?"

Remus scratched his head, " Well ah, one thing led to another and we began talking about lycanthropy," he said nervously.

James broke into a coughing fit, practically due to disbelief, " So you're telling me, you, Remus Lupin, talked openly, about your furry problem, with a stranger?" he asked slowly.

He almost seemed to grimace but nodded, " She didn't know I was a werewolf but one thing led to another and-"

" And we ended up sleeping together and it kinda just slipped,"

The three men looked to the bedroom door to see (Y/N) leaning against the wall beside it, " I'm (Y/N), as Remus has probably mentioned."

" James,"

" Sirius,"

She smiled, " Well it's nice to meet you both,"

James offered her a small smile, taking notice of the pants she now had on, " Likewise, but how did something like that just slip?"

(Y/N) walked over to Remus and curled up to his side, " Well my brother is a werewolf actually, so I took one look at Remus and had a suspicion. About a week ago we were having a drink, well several drinks, and I asked him,"

Sirius's jaw dropped, " Took you almost three bloody years to tell us but you pick up some bird at an apothecary and it's a week?"

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly, recognizing the tone in Sirius's voice, " I can understand why you're a little upset but I don't know she's just, " he looked down at (Y/N) who smiled up at him," We just really get on amazingly,"

Sirius snorted, " Look at this Prongs, we leave him alone for two weeks and suddenly he's starring in his own Disney film!"

" Let me guess you got on a boat to America, picked her up, got married on the way back, and now-she's bloody pregnant!"

" Why didn't you tell us?!" he demanded.

Remus rolled his eyes, " You're being dramatic Padfoot, it's not like she was some great secret, and no we're not married, or getting married, and she's not pregnant!"

James and (Y/N) stood there awkwardly as the other two stared each other down," So you're American?"

She nodded, " Yeah,"

" I heard the food there's great,"

" Oh it really is, if you're ever in Brooklyn you should go down to this pizza parlor called Lombardi's Pizza, it's great,"

" Really? My wife and I were thinking about vacationing there one of these days-"

" How the hell are you two just having a nice little chat?!" interrupted Sirius, shooting the two a bewildered look before looking back at Remus who met his intense stare with his own.

After about twenty minutes of Sirius yelling at Remus about being reckless and stupid, the two left, with James apologizing for his friend's behavior, assuring (Y/N) that he would eventually come around.

After the door shut Remus apologized profusely, " I'm so sorry, love," he said pulling her into a hug, " He's just paranoid because of everything that's been going on recently,"

The (Y/H/C) haired girl smiled and grabbed the front of his brown sweater, forcing him to lean down near her face. She pressed her lips to his and then pulled back, " Is this normal?" she asked, " I've never wanted someone so much all the damn time."

Remus felt an amused smirk grace his scarred face. His hands went to her bum and squeezed before picking her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

The werewolf moved over to the counter and set her atop it, grabbing her pants and yanking them off. His own followed and soon they were both in only their underthings.

(Y/N) pulled Remus closer using her legs, her lips met his own hungrily. They both fought for dominance but in the end, it was Remus who won.

He began to pepper her face and neck with kisses as his hand squeezed her thighs, making her giggle, " Remus, that tickles!" she laughed, her hand going to his, trying to shove it off of her.

He grinned wolfishly, " Does it now?" he asked, only continuing to squeeze as she fought him.

" St-Stop!" she wheezed, tears beginning to pool in her eyes as she continued to laugh uncontrollably, " I swear to God Remus, I'll g-get you!" she squealed as one of his hands went to her neck.

Remus began to laugh as her face contorted into the oddest expressions. (Y/N) took this opportunity to push past him and hop off the counter, practically sprinting to the bedroom with him on her tail.

(Y/N) collapsed on top of Remus's chest and buried her head into his neck, " Holy shit," she breathed.

Remus chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, " You took the words right out of my mouth," he said pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She snuggled close and smiled, " I really hope your friends get used to me because I don't plan on leaving anytime soon."

#young remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #young remus x reader #fluff #remus fluff #drabble

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

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It’s Good Luck - Jumin Han

This is the last part (maybe? Idk) of my Jumin wedding series bc all of a sudden I have baby fever and want to write a pregnant series oop. In fact, I had to FORCE myself to write this ceremony. I might write a reception chapter later, who knows. Reminder: this is part of a mini-series but everything can be read and interpreted as one shots if you’re like me and dislike series haha also idk if this even makes sense but I hope you maybe like it?

Summary: they say rain on your wedding day is good luck. Jumin takes that to a new level and proposes you go outside in the rain before you’re due at the reception.

You had returned to your dressing room, watching as the men in the sharp suits carried your flowers and chairs from the tent outside to the building. Why did it have to rain? Sure, they said it was good luck, and you didn’t truly care so long as you were marrying Jumin, but you had looked forward to the outdoor wedding. You had planned for an outdoor wedding, not one inside.

“Don’t worry about it,” your wedding planner comforted you, noticing your mournful expression as you looked at the heavy raindrops running down the window, “We’re going to do everything in our power to bring the outdoors in. Do you want to give it a look-over before we start everything?”

Honestly? It would make you feel better. You nodded, standing up and straightening out your wedding dress. You followed behind her, taking the back way to avoid any guests, and made your way into their indoor venue.

They did a really good job for such a short amount of time. The wall of flowers was up behind the altar, large flower arrangements were set by each row of seats, and gigantic mounds of flowers lined each side of the aisle. It was pretty. Yes, outside would have been ideal, but whatever. This was lovely as well!

“Is it to your liking?” The wedding planner asked, nervously toying with her watch.

You nodded. “It’s very nice. Would it be possible, maybe, to get a different color table cover for the altar? The cream worked well for the outdoors but now it’s a little too... casual.” You had learned a thing or two from planning the RFA parties after all.

“Would you prefer white then?”

“How about an antique white? You cringed internally; you sounded so uptight. But you knew antique white would look best with the color tones of the room. “Oh! If you don’t have it just normal white will do as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it set up right now. Any other changes you’d like to make?”

“Is there any way to dim the lights? They’re a little bright... it’s giving me a hospital feel.” You added awkwardly. Your wedding planner walked over to a panel and immediately dimmed the lights. “Perfect. It’s lovely. Thank you for doing all this,” you turned to her, smiling.

“If that’s all you need, I’ll get somebody to switch out the cloth and then we can start seating guests,” she offered. You smiled and nodded.

When you arrived at your room you were greeted with even more surprises: this time there was a masseuse, table set up and everything. “Hi, are you MC? Mr. Han called for me,” she greeted, holding out a hand for you to shake, which you took.

“Oh! What a nice surprise.”

“Yes, he said it was quite urgent. I understand this all must be pretty stressful. My wedding got rained out too, but the good thing is my husband and I have been married for over thirty years now.” The lady seemed very warm; her presence was comforting. You allowed yourself to sit down on the edge of her table.

“I’m not sure how much time we have, but would you mind doing my shoulders and back? I’ve got a lot of tension in there from everything going on.” You still felt awkward being accomadated so well, but it was something you had to get used to, especially because you were marrying Jumin.

“Of course,” you felt her push your veil to the side, fingers gently working around your upper back. “You weren’t kidding: you are tense. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

You let out a laugh. “That tradition that the groom can’t see the bride on the wedding day. I’ve been sleeping next to my fiancée for months now. It was hard not to, and the pre-wedding jitters didn’t help.”

“Well,” she commented, her hands hitting a knot by your shoulders and gently trying to work it out. “I can tell it’ll all be worth it. He seems like a very nice man, and he definitely cares about you.”

“Yes, I’m not sure how many other brides get masseuses in minutes before their wedding,” you joked, a fond smile on your face. A knock at the door. The wedding planner peeked in. “You’ve got about five minutes until it’s go time.”

You thanked the lady and went to take your spot, waiting for your entrance. As you heard the bridal march start playing, you anxiously stepped into the room, heavy bouquet in hand. The antique white looked quite nice, you thought to yourself. It was a good choice. In front of the tablecloth though.

How could he possibly be even more handsome than usual? Maybe it was the light gray suit, a stark contrast to his typical black attire. Maybe it was the glisten in his eyes as they watered with tears. Maybe it was the smile that he couldn’t hide- no, he didn’t want to hide. Walking to him felt like running a marathon; it took forever.

Finally your hands were in his. Him mouthing how beautiful you looked, wiping away a stray tear that leaked down his cheek. You didn’t realize you had such a death grip on his hands until he started gently running his thumb over your hands, easing the tension.

“You and me only, remember?” He whispered softly. You wanted to hug him. No, that would be weird. The priest was quite literally in the middle of his speech. You but your lip and looked down at your shoes.

A hand on your cheek brought your attention up. Was this allowed? Why did you never go through this wedding etiquette?

The words spoken were a blur. Jumin recited his vows perfectly, not straying from the traditional vows. The two of you had agreed that you would rather share those thoughts, those emotions, in private. You stumbled over the words when it was your turn. For richer or for poorer? Not only was the statement comical considering the Hans’ wealth, but why was it so hard to say? Jumin’s lips quirked into a smile upon hearing you fumble, and it made you feel better to see him smile like that.

Finally, finally the moment had come. “You may now kiss the bride.” Swept up in the moment, Jumin pulled you close in one swift motion for a kiss. You had agreed to keep it chaste and sweet, but he hadn’t seemed to remember that part of it!!!!! You pulled away before it got too PG-13, planting a kiss on his cheek and promising him more later.

“How soon is later?” He asked, pouting for what was likely one of the first times in his life. “I just want to embrace my wife. We still have a reception after this?” He groaned.

“You’re so needy today Honey,” you teased, the two of you sharing your own moment at the front of the room while the guests filed out.

“We don’t have to do anything. It’s just... I had trouble sleeping last night without you. You can’t blame a man for wanting to hold his wife in his arms and never let go.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

The guests had finally filed out and it was your turn to leave, greeting them at the exit. “I’ve noticed you saying wife a lot,” you teased, holding his hand tight, your cathedral-length veil wrapped around his free arm so that you wouldn’t trip or get caught up by it.

“Well, I like it.” It was such a simple statement, but it made your heart race. The two of you finished thanking your guests, and it was time for the cocktail hour to start. You and Jumin had planned about ten minutes together without a photographer or anything just so you could take in the events of the day and reflect together. You had been looking forward to it for hours.

“You know all those things you vowed to me?” You asked, staring out the window as he helped you remove your veil. The rain hadn’t slowed; it was wise of you to move it inside.

“Sickness and health, better or worse, rich or poor, those things?” He listed them off as if they were so simple. It made you laugh.

“How about in grace and in stupidity?”

He plopped your veil down on a bench. “What? My love you’re not stu-“

“You wanna go out into the rain with me? It’ll be fun... and we have about eight minutes after to dry off before pictures,” you proposed. It was an AWFUL idea. It was pouring. You had your hair and makeup done. This dress was designer.

“Truly?” He asked, looking skeptically.

“Yeah in retrospect it’s a bad idea. I don’t know, I thought it was good luck or something.”

Out of nowhere, he swept you into his arms, barreling towards the exit to the building. “Jumin!” You shrieked. “I take it back! I said it was a bad idea!”

“But it’s good luck,” he shouted as he swung open the door, trying to be heard over the rain. He looked cautiously at the puddles forming on the sidewalks, then took a deep breath. “In grace and in stupidity?”

“Of course, my husband.”

It was out of a movie. The dramatic kiss in the rain. All the passion Jumin had wanted to put into your kiss when you were standing in front of all your family and friends. The rain dribbling down your back. It made you squeal. He couldn’t stop laughing. He held his hand above your head, attempting to shield your makeup from the rain. It didn’t help.

What felt like eons later, he carried you back inside, setting you on a bench. He tried to keep a serious face, but burst out laughing. You had never heard him laugh so hard.

“Honey? Why are you laughing? Is it my makeup? Jumin!” Nothing could get his attention.

“We may need more than just eight minutes to dry off,” he chuckled, pushing back soaked strands of hair that were hanging on his face. “I’ll call Assistant Kang and let her know.”

“Was it worth it though?” You asked, trying to wipe your face (and failing).

“Oh absolutely,” he pulled you close to him. “I feel luckier already.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #Jumin marriage

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amostimprobabledream · 4 years

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Why I hate Grace.

I was giving my thoughts on Peaky Blinders a few weeks ago and I danced around the subject of my dislike for this character but didn’t have time/room to get it all out. So here it is! Grace fans, you probably want to look away now. So to me, Grace is kind of symbolic of the bad writing on Peaky Blinders, which is especially egregious because usually the writing of the show is good. But right off the bat, her arrival creates a number of plotholes that don't resonate with Tommy's character. Just for a start, nobody seems to find it suspicious that an apparently attractive woman (seriously, people go on and on about how pretty Grace is and while it's not as though she's ugly at all, you can't help but wonder if the Peaky boys merely think so because she's the only woman of significance not related to them) is so determined to be a barmaid in The Garrison, where Tommy, upon seeing her, immediately asks her if she's a whore. Grace is understandably offended by the question, which again makes you wonder why she'd want to work somewhere where such a question isn't just an assumption, but the first thing Tommy asks - we know she's a spy, but the other characters don't.

Then, Tommy corners Grace and starts asking why she keeps being so nosy about the Blinders and their business. They go for a walk and Tommy asks Grace if she's a Catholic. She says she is, but when Tommy points out that no good Catholic girl would walk into a church without making the cross, he immediately exposes her as a liar and points out he also knows that she lied to him about what town she was from, because he asked around and nobody had ever heard of her. So what does he do? He...promotes her to being his secretary? What?

Okay, so you might argue that Tommy puts her in said position to keep an eye on her, or thinks she might be useful if she has the balls to lie to him, but she tells such an easy-to-unravel lie and her excuse is because she wants to "fit in". Again, he lets her off the hook but she covers up a lie with an even more obvious one - if Grace cared about fitting in, she'd make more of an effort to do so, but she keeps demanding Tommy let her sing in the pub and asks questions above her station to Arthur, which got reported back to Tommy. Sure, it's her job to spy on the Peaky boys, but she's so transparent about it that it's honestly ridiculous that Tommy would ever put her in a position that close to his personal affairs. Not to mention, Grace is so inexplicably haughty towards Tommy, telling him, "You disappoint me" when he kisses her. You'd think if she was good at her job, she'd learn to shut her mouth and keep her head down like a decent spy, but she always acts as if she's better than Tommy because, like Polly points out, she's a spoiled little rich girl at heart and she does think herself above the Shelby's.

Then Tommy completely inexplicably chooses to give Grace a fucking gun and tells her some men are going to come in and try to kill him and he's relying on her to bail him out. I know the cops were meant to come in at the stroke of six and they fuck up, but WHY would you ever place that level of trust in someone you already know is a liar? Sorry, but I just don't buy that Tommy was blinded by "love". I can buy that maybe he was curious about Grace, possibly even fancied her a bit, but definitely not so stupid that he thinks it's a good idea to put his fucking life in the hands of a woman he knows basically nothing about. She could have fallen out of the sky for all he knows. Tommy even continues to trust Grace after she kills an IRA guy right in front of him because she sobs, "I didn't know I had it in me like that", yet she disobeyed his instructions and whenever Arthur or John do that, Tommy gives them a bollocking. He lets Grace off, again, for seemingly no reason other than she played the damsel in distress role and he buys it. This doesn't make Tommy look like a smart man blinded by love, it just makes him look like an idiot around Grace.

Also, there seems to be an uncomfortable level in Tommy/Grace of Tommy getting a kick out of using Grace to piss Campbell off. It's pretty obvious Campbell has a creepy crush on her, and Tommy exploits that for all it's worth when he explicitly rings Campbell to inform him that he's going to bang Grace. (Incidentally, their sex scene made me go, "Oh, I guess they're gonna fuck now. Yup." It was like they did it because the screenwriter said so.) He's basically cucking Campbell and I think it's a big reason why even Grace fans admit that she's "not as good" in Season Two - Grace just doesn't work without Campbell around. At least in Season One you can argue that every shitty thing Grace does to Tommy/the Peaky Blinders is partly because of her job as a spy and Campbell is her boss. In Season Two, there are no excuses for the way Grace acts. She's a selfish, self-righteous hypocrite. She jumps at the chance to go to Birmingham on the offchance it was Tommy who called, then acts all offended when he assumes she came to sleep with him, to the point she actually smacks him in the face. What does Tommy do about this? Nothing. When Grace complains they could have run away to New York together, all Tommy says is, "I had things to do", instead of asking Grace why she thinks he'd abandon his family, business, friends and country all to chase after the woman who sold him out to his worst enemy. Grace honestly expected Tommy to put her first after everything she did to him. I won't act like Tommy is a saint in this - he did nearly pimp her out to Billy Kimber - but at least he acknowledges it was wrong of him to do and he never acts like he occupies any moral highground like Grace does. When Grace admits she sold Tommy out, she sobs she "did a terrible thing," yet never tries to actually help him out in a way that would put her at risk - she quit her position, sure, but Campbell's creepiness had gone so far as to propose marriage to her, Grace was still looking out for herself when she left, because it got her away from Campbell. She asked Campbell to spare him, knowing full well that Campbell has wanted Tommy dead since day one. She plays the damsel in distress again and she's pissed when Tommy doesn't fall for it a second time. Then when she talks about her husband, she tries to rub it in Tommy's face how he's “a good, kind man”, but then quickly backtracks on that to fuck Tommy anyway because her husband is impotent - and Grace just can't deal with not getting what she wants. Tommy's rich enough to afford to buy a house for Ada and Polly by this point, he's running Birmingham and seeking to expand into London, so Grace pulls the oldest trick in the book and gets pregnant - then Tommy has to do the responsible thing and marry her, because the baby is his and it's literally the only piece of leverage she has over May. (May even points out that she's been stringing Tommy along and all Grace can do is throw the fact that "Grace's Secret" is the horse's name at her. Again though, did Tommy call it that to piss off Campbell? This was before Grace returned to Small Heath but after Campbell had, so I think yes.)

Then in Season Three, again, Grace is pretty much a pointless character, because she has no purpose anymore outside of being "Tommy's wife". Campbell is dead and so the conflict of her character in Season One, as contrived as that was, is gone. People complain about Grace being stuffed into a fridge and whatnot, (and tbh, you could say that about Freddie, but Freddie also served his purpose in Season One after he buried the hatchet with Tommy), but honestly I think that it was all they could think to do with her because Charlotte Riley was unable to pick up her role as May for Season Three, so they had to work around it. It's the only explanation I can think of about why Grace is just such a blatantly awful person in the Second Season - I've heard people say before that Tommy leaving the field after his assassination was prevented would have been the perfect ending to the season, but that scene at the end where he returns to The Garrison and announces he's getting married seemed really hastily tacked-on - I feel like it was added because they were forced to rewrite the drafts for Season Three and put whatever plans for May they had on the shelf. Not to mention, Grace's actress Annabelle Wallis has apparently stated she hates May because she's "annoying" and "gets inbetween Tommy and Grace". No, Grace got in the way of Tommy and Grace - she's the one who chose to leave Birmingham after she got exposed as a Mole instead of taking the consequences! And also, how is May the annoying one? At least she doesn’t whisper all her lines. It's just so immature of the actress to bash on the character and encourage ship wars, especially considering Grace comes out the winner of the love triangle, so what's the bitterness about? (I've not heard what her opinion is on Lizzie, but I doubt it's as hostile, because it's made obvious in the show that Tommy doesn't love Lizzie the same and the poor girl is constantly competing with a dead woman for her husband's love.) Plus, in Season Three, the wedding is all about not upsetting Grace, Tommy's family have to play nice with Grace's family, and Polly is once again the only person who knocks Grace's smug ass down a peg by reminding her that the family haven't forgiven or forgotten Grace's crimes against them - the only reason they're putting up a pretence of tolerating her is for Tommy's sake. Not hers. Not everybody in the world wants to accommodate Grace. Killing Grace was honestly the highlight of the entire Season, because I couldn't stand watching her smirking over how she got everything she wanted when she didn't pay for any of it. (Polly is also the only one who comments on how Tommy has conveniently forgotten all the shit she pulled on him and Tommy acts like she was a totally innocent bystander when she got killed and it’s like, no, Tommy, baby. Grace knew what she was getting into when she married him and he knew that - it’s pretty much common knowledge that everybody who is even tangentially associated with the Peaky Blinders gets hurt eventually, just look at how Ada was nearly gangraped even though she hadn’t been involved with the family business for two years.)

Come Season Four and Five and there's already a problem here - there is still more to talk about with Grace, even though she’s dead and Tommy spends most of Season Three rampaging over her death. But he just inexplicably won't let go of her. And again, this doesn't come across as Tommy being so in love with Grace he can't fathom a world without her, it comes off like her actress has dirt on the director or something. He constantly hallucinates the bitch, we hear her singing all the time, it's kind of implied that Tommy prefers Charles over Ruby because Charles a boy and has a saintly dead mummy while Ruby is the daughter of a former whore (not that Tommy doesn't love Ruby, obviously, because he absolutely does), and what really annoys me about Tommy hallucinating Grace is that she's the only character he does this with. He doesn't dream about Greta, his first love, he doesn't dream of Danny or Freddie or his mother. He doesn't even fucking dream about John! Remember John, Tommy's little brother he knew his entire life? Apparently nobody else does! No, it's always all about Grace, who keeps helpfully telling Tommy to hurry up and kill himself so he can be with her again. This doesn’t seem like an out-of-character, guilt-induced vision - it mimicks her attitude in Season Two, that nothing else in his life can be as important as she is.

And that's why I hate Grace. (Please don’t send me rude or hateful messages over this post, it’s just my opinion and it’s pretty much irrelevant anyway since I doubt Stephen Knight is going to stop using Grace up as some kind of martyred dead saint anytime soon. I just wanted to get this rant out of my system.)

#Peaky Blinders #Grace Burgess #Tommy Shelby #May Carleton #Rant #Chester Campbell #Polly Shelby #Blogging

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justfandomwritings · 5 years

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United In Fear (Part One - Soulmate!Robb)

Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader; Soulmates AU (because Game of Thrones just didn’t have enough fantasy drama for me)

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: Angsty fluff, someone get’s punched but it’s not super dramatic

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Notes: so the thing is right... I didn’t really mean to write this. It just sort of came out. Long story short. It’s an idea I had. If people like it, I’ll finish it. It will probably take 3-4 Parts to complete the story arc I have in mind. Each part about this long.

It wasn’t her banner or her looks that tipped Robb Stark off that she was (Y/n) Lannister. It was her being. The way she dismounted her horse while all of Winterfell still knelt before Robert Baratheon, as though everyone, even the King, was beneath her. The way she took her brother’s helping hand as if Lannister blood was the only thing worthy of touching her skin. The way her chin never dipped, always keeping her head up and her gaze held high. The way her feet glided over the ground with quick, sure steps that spoke of how little she wished to touch Northern soil. The way she never met the gaze of anyone, save her siblings, Robb’s father, and the King. (Y/n) Lannister could not have hidden her identity even if she tried, and she most certainly did not try.

She kept beside her brother as the King motioned for them to rise and greeted Robb’s father. Her eyes took the time to wander over the keep, and she kept her expression unreadably passive wherever they went. She made no acknowledgment that anything important was happening around her until her sister exited the carriage. (Y/n) released her brother’s arm and stepped forward to stand at the queen’s right hand.

“My queen,” Ned Stark said as he bent to kiss Cersei’s offered hand.

“My queen,” Catelyn echoed with a curtsy.

Cersei greeted both with a weary, but polite nod. “My sister,” Cersei stepped aside, positioning herself in front of Robb, and held out her hand for introductions, “(Y/n) Lannister, Lady of the Rock.”

(Y/n) offered no hand, so Ned simply bowed before her. “My lady.”

She curtsied with the air of someone who would have preferred not to move at all. “A pleasure, Lord Stark.”

“The pleasure is ours, Lady Lannister,” Catelyn greeted, repeating her curtsy.

(Y/n) returned Catelyn’s pleasantries only to be interrupted by the King. “Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects.”

(Y/n) and Cersei averted their gaze to Robert with matching expressions of distaste. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.” Cersei’s tone was dismissive, but her expression as Robert called for Ned to step around her was nothing short of wounded.

Robb watched the sneer on (Y/n)’s face as she eyed Robert Baratheon’s retreating back. He wondered, to himself, if it was agitation at being spoken over, agitation on her sister’s behalf, or simply agitation with the state of the King. Robb wasn’t sure he would blame her with any of the three. He couldn’t recall his father ever speaking over a noblewoman of any standing, and Ned was certainly never so dismissive to Robb’s mother.

And the King. Well, the King was not at all what Robb expected from his father’s stories. He knew the man had aged some since his father had last seen him, but Robb thought he’d have aged with more dignity. He didn’t expect a belly fat with food, breath stale with wine, or a horse’s dismount that require a servant to bring the King a stool. Robert Baratheon was what Robb Stark expected of a wealthy village drunkard, not his supposedly heroic, noble namesake.

The Lannisters, for all the harsh words his father had to say about them, did not at all disappoint. The family measured up entirely to even their most fantastical tales. The Queen had aged some since the songs had named her the Light of the West, but she had aged with grace. Her beauty had changed, but Robb could say with some certainty that it hadn’t faded.

Jaime Lannister was ever the Golden Lion. A ballad of his bravery during the Greyjoy Rebellion had once been sung at a feast in Winterfell, and Ned Stark had grudgingly admitted the words to be true. The Queen’s twin was a formidable man who’s self confidence was only matched by the skill he used to justify it. All the poets had something to say or sing about Jaime Lannister. Some painted him a hero, some a villain. But all painted him the perfect image of a knight, and the man before Robb now proved them all to be right.

(Y/n) was not the subject of songs, but whispers. Tywin’s youngest child was no older than Robb himself, the product of a second marriage Tywin did not wish to make. She was rumored to be her father reincarnate. With her mother dead in the birthing bed and her siblings in King’s Landing, (Y/n) had been raised by Tywin and Tywin alone, entirely in his own image. Watching her stand in the grounds of Winterfell, Robb would say that Tywin’s quest had been a complete success. She was only a young woman, yet her presence demanded respect, and everyone gave it.

“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked her older sister, with no attempts at hiding her words.

The words drew (Y/n)’s gaze, and for the first time, Robb watched his youngest sister cower back, afraid.

The Queen turned her head to her sister. “The little beast wandered off again.”

“I’ll find him,” (Y/n) didn’t bother to look at her sister as she addressed her. Her eyes stayed on Arya for a moment longer before she whipped around, marching back to her horse.

“My lady,” Catelyn took a step out of line after the youngest Lannister. “Perhaps, we can offer some assistance.”

Jaime Lannister responded with a chuckle as he offered (Y/n) a hand back on her horse. “Only in finding your nearest brothels.”

Catelyn Stark was thoroughly scandalized as Lady (Y/n) rode away, Ser Jaime following at her heels.

Robb sighed to himself and turned away. She hadn’t been introduced to him. He still couldn’t be sure.

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The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

In the North, they maintained the names were a mystery of the Old Gods, a force that no man could influence or pretend to understand. The descendants of the First Men claimed the names long predated the Faith of the Seven and dated all the way back to the Children of the Forest. No proof could be found of this, but given the Andals hostile takeover of the other kingdoms, much of the First Men’s culture and history had been lost. It fell to the Starks alone to remember, and they did their job well. The North remembered.

The Reach claimed they came from the Father. They argued that if the names were given by the gods, surely they came from the Father who was Above All. They weaved a tale of a man, loyal to no god but the Seven, who came to Westeros with the invasion of the Andals. He preached and pleaded with the First Men to convert to the one true religion, and everywhere he went they rebuked him. Everywhere but Oldtown. Everyone but House Hightower. As a gift, for the conversion of Damon Hightower to the Faith of the Seven, the Father gave the names to the Reach, and thus as the faith spread so did the names across all of Westeros.

The Stormlands claimed that, in fact, the Smith, mender of broken things, was responsible for the gift. Men, whether they were Andals or First Men or Rhoynar, were harsh, imperfect creatures, and nowhere was that more true than the Stormlands. The Smith had long made it his responsibility to put their world right, and that began with fixing the men themselves. He began with Hugor of the Hill, the first King of the Andals. The Smith touched Hugor’s arm to give him the name of his wife, so she might heal the scars the world left on him and his sons might find maidens of their own to do the same.

The Warrior was, in fact, the source of the The Vale’s legends. It made sense in that The Vale was the first place invaded by the Andals. They claimed the reason the names existed in Westeros but not Essos was because the Andals had never conquered the eastern continent. Where the Andals seized land in honor of the Warrior, the Seven would bless the soldiers out of gratitude for their service. Of course, this blessing started with the Vale.

In the Crownlands, the names were said to be given by the Mother. It was said that one day she looked down on a small, forgotten sept in the Crownlands and saw one of her devout, a young married woman, crying at her altar. The young woman had been married for two years and had yet to fall pregnant with her husband. He was an angry, cruel man, threatening to disavow her and name her barren if she did not give him a child within the year. The woman called out for the Mother’s mercy, for a child she could not have, and the Mother heard her cries. She wanted happiness for her good and faithful servant and knew she would not attain it with such a man. Reaching down, the Mother touched the woman’s arm, and a man’s name appeared, a name that was not her husband’s. Many years later, Baelor the Blessed would visit every sept in the Crownlands, looking for the place where the Mother gave the names, and when he sensed he had found it, he built up around that sept the Great Sept of Baelor, a sept worthy of the gift the Mother had given to man that day.

The Westerlands cited scripture. It was written in the Seven Pointed Star that Hugor of the Hill received a blessing from each of the Gods, and when it came to the Maid, she gave Hugor a maiden of his own, a wife of great beauty and innocence. The Westerlands maintained this must mean she gave the names; it was the Maiden’s way of giving the gift of love to every true believer in the Seven.

The Crone belonged to the Riverlands, in more ways than one. To the Lords and Ladies of the Riverlands, the Crone was held in the highest esteem. The names were without fault or failure. How could anyone think the wisdom of age, that only came from the old woman, was not involved? They told a lovely story of the Crone looking on the youth of the Maiden with sympathy for her ignorance. Longing to spare her from making the same mistakes the Crone had learned from in her youth, the Crone spared her the search for a man who truly loved her by pointing her in the right direction.

Dorne had the simplest explanation, and they did not bother trying to justify it with tall tales or kingdom history. They said the names were a gift from the Stranger. So that no man need face Death alone. Robb liked that explanation best.

Still, he did not believe in the Stranger. He kept faith with the Old Gods. His mother had made a point that all her children at least understood the Seven and understood that, while they were the same gods everywhere, each kingdom saw them differently. Catelyn knew that Ned would have to raise them to worship at the weirwood tree, but she didn’t want her children to feel out of place if they ever joined her in the sept or journeyed in the rest of Westeros.

Robb knew all the lore, and he remembered it well. Not so well as Sansa, who longed to go South, but better than Arya who never listened no matter how many times she was told.

He would often lie awake at night staring at the name inked into his arm, wondering to himself what she thought of this. If she, like him, believed his name on her arm to be a gift from the Old Gods, beyond the understanding of man. If she thought his name was a gift from any one of the Seven for any number of reasons. Or if she was on the other side of Westeros, simply looking for a companion to her grave.

Her name was never far from his thoughts. He wondered where she was. He wondered her station. He wondered how she felt. He wondered if she wondered about him. How could she not? They were destined for each other, destined to be together, if not in this life than the next.

When he was younger, Robb had longed for her. His nurse had met her mate, a butcher from one of the smaller towns outside of Winterfell; and he longed for the love he saw in her eyes. He longed for frivolous things: someone to suffer through his lessons with, someone to ride the Wolfswood beside, someone to take some of the weight of Winterfell off his shoulders.

As he got older, he learned better than to dream of such things.

Not everyone met their match, and the odds were not in Robb’s favor. Most of Westeros lived and died without knowing whose name had mared their skin for life. There were too many people, spread out over too great a distance, over Seven Kingdoms and the Vale, and all anyone ever had to search for was their first name, their given name on their arm. Those who did find the one were usually those who were able to devote their lives to the scowering the Seven Kingdoms in their search.

Heir to Winterfell, Robb did not have the time to search for his mate. She would have to wait. He would see her in the next life. Robb would never be able to marry the girl whose name was on his arm. Even if he found her, he could not have her. There were millions of women in Westeros, and his mate would not be among the nobility.

It was an incredibly rare occurrence for nobility to be destined for each other, but it had been known to happen on occasion. Yet only once, in the millions of Westerosi, in the thousands of mates that found one another, in the hundreds of nobility that went searching, in the dozens of nobility that found their mate, and the few who found their mate to be someone of equal standing. Only once in history had two nobles found each other’s names and actually managed to be married. Two Lannisters, of all the undeserving families in the Kingdoms. As if anyone could have denied Tywin Lannister anything.

Tywin’s love for his wife, Joanna, was as legendary as his victories in battle. The Lannisters sang the Rains of Castamere at their tournaments, and the Lion and the Lady at their feasts. Every man, woman, and child in Westeros knew the words to both.

Tywin loved Joanna deeply, unconditionally, and once they touched, no one could keep him from taking her as his own. They shared a bond deeper than their lives and deeper than her death.

No one knew a greater love than Tywin, and no one knew a greater loss.

Aerys Targaryen could have gotten away with all his burnings, all his cruelties, all his madness; bare one. Bare the day of the Tourney at Harrenhal when he declared the end of Tywin’s mourning, when he stole Tywin’s son and declared before all the Seven Kingdoms the Hand of the King would remarry.

The stories said that was the day the Targaryens lost the war: long before it even started. Of course, Rhaegar snubbed his wife, Elia, in front of Prince Oberyn. Yes, he kidnapped Lyanna Stark from under Robert Baratheon’s nose. Sure, Aerys did give away the woman Ned Stark was pursuing. But more than all of that, it was the day the Targaryens crossed Tywin Lannister, and there was one certainty about Tywin Lannister. Those who crossed him only got to do so once.

Any other man in the Seven would have been thrilled, relieved even, to marry Ashara Dayne. Tywin Lannister simply looked on the girl and walked away.

It was common knowledge that Tywin only ever touched his second wife twice: once to hold her hand to complete the wedding ceremony and once during the bedding. The maids who came to collect the sheets the next morning swore they heard Tywin cry, but that could have just been a rumor. Neither maid was seen or heard from in any noble house in Westeros again to confirm or deny.

It was likely for the best that Ashara died giving birth to her only child. It spared her a lifetime of living in the shadow of a ghost. It spared her the pain of watching her daughter, (Y/n), twisted into the spitting image of her father.

Robb had heard her name once, (Y/n) Lannister, and asked his mother hopefully if that was the (Y/n) on his arm. He didn’t know her, but he hoped it was her, hoped it was someone he might actually be able to marry one day.

Catelyn had been aghast. She swore no son of hers could ever be bound to a Lannister.

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“My lady,” A knock came on the chamber door. “The feast is prepared, and the guests are assembling downstairs.”

(Y/n) threw the door open and leaned against the thick wood frame as she crossed her arms over her chest with a mischievous smirk. “My lady? Since when did you use such formalities?”

Jaime stood on the other side of the door, looking as golden and perfect in his armor as always. His lips were pulled wide in a smirk matching his little sister;s, the one he’d spent years teaching her on their father’s occasional trips with her to King’s Landing. “Well, when you are in the presence of the acting Lady of the Rock, one must always keep one’s guard up.” He extended his arm to her, “Shall I escort you?”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be entirely disagreeable,” She mused, lifting her golden skirts with one hand and accepting her brother’s help with the other. “Tell me, do you think Tyrion will grace us with his presence this evening?”

Jaime snorted as he pulled the door to (Y/n)’s room shut and led her down the hall. “Doubtful, though I could be persuaded to hunt him down if you or Cersei wished.”

“Cersei never wishes,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

She and Cersei had a mutual understanding that was heavily dependent on both sisters keeping their distance. Of her siblings, (Y/n) was closest to Tyrion, but she wasn’t about to get in a fight with Cersei over forcing his attendance at a meager Northern feast.

“But you always do.” Jaime said it like he was reminding her of something profound rather than her own opinion.

Jaime let go of her hand and descended the narrow, winding steps to the ground floor, staying one step ahead of her so he might catch her if she slipped. He knew it was an unnecessary precaution. (Y/n) never slipped, in actions or in words. It still made him feel better to know he could catch her if he needed.

“Because I love our brother dearly, Jaime, as do you.”

“Cersei loves him in her own way.” Jaime tried to placate.

(Y/n) only scoffed. “You always were a terrible liar.”

With a chuckle, he took her hand and helped her off the final step back onto the solid stone of one of Winterfell’s many long, dark halls. “You and I both know that’s not true. I can get away with lying to anyone I’m not related to. It’s only you three and father who ever really caught me in a lie.”

“Yes, but I believe I deserve greater credit than the others. They have far more experience; I missed all of your childhood antics. All I have are Tyrion’s stories and father’s criticisms to keep me company at the Rock.”

Jaime nodded in agreement. “The Rock can be quite lonely. Cersei and I only had each other for a long while.”

(Y/n) looked around for a quick moment before she dragged her brother back by his arm. Her eyes searched the stone in both directions to ensure no one was watching before she pulled him into a narrow walk off the main passage.

“Jaime,” her tone was a quiet, harsh warning.

Not for the first time since they’d started the journey North, Jaime heard his father in her voice. It always amazed him. He wondered if she knew she was doing, or if it came to her naturally.

“Do not do this here.” (Y/n) pressed.

“Do not do what, sister?”

Her head cocked to the side, eyes judging his every word. It was the way Tywin looked at advisors who spoke out of turn. “You know what. You and Cersei hide nothing from me. I remain silent out of respect for you, but don’t mistake my silence as approval of your behavior.”

The muscles in Jaime’s jaw tightened. A tell that he was about to lie. “I don’t know what you’re…”

She cut him off before he could finish. “Do not play games with me, Jaime. I am not Tyrion, too drunk to care; and I am not father who does not see what he does not want to see. I see you Jaime.”

“Sister, what exactly is the point of this conversation?” He wouldn’t bother denying it again. If the first denial didn’t put (Y/n) off, it meant she would not be dissuaded.

“My point?” She went on her toes and looked over his shoulder. Her voice was quiet enough not to bounce off the stone, and the walls shielded them from most prying eyes. Yet that did nothing to quiet her concern. “My point is that I will not have you risking this family, Jaime.”

“You think so little of me, sister?”

“Yes.” It was a blunt answer. An honest answer. “Jaime, unlike our siblings, I do not think you foolish, but I do think you arrogant. You know the consequences of being caught. You’re just far too confident that you won’t be.”

Jaime sighed and ran a hand through his hair. (Y/n) was impossible to argue with. Part of it was her mind. Jaime always joked she had inherited the portion meant for him. A greater part was their father. (Y/n) had a way of saying the things he knew Tywin would, but with a touch more caring that made him actually want to listen.

(Y/n) took the pause as opportunity. “Listen to me, Jaime. I know what you’re thinking, brother. You think, even if caught, there will be no consequences for your actions, because there never have been before. You know what the consequences should be, but you don’t think they apply to you. If you got caught in Casterly Rock, the servants would die with your secret, whether they kept it till old age or were hung from the gallows by father. If you got caught in King’s Landing, there would be whispers. Yet, no one would be foolhardy enough to question you of them, or Maester Pycelle would poison them by dinner.”

She growled, dragging his face down to her level by the collar of his breastplate. (Y/n) needed him to listen to her. “This is not Casterly Rock, Jaime, nor is it King’s Landing. This is the North. You are in the enemy’s camp, and your name will not protect you.”

Jaime measured his sister’s words carefully. “If it would make you happy, sister, then nothing will happen while we are under Ned Stark’s roof.”

“I would be utterly relieved, if I actually believed you.” Her tone was short, but Jaime could tell she was hopeful.

“All will be above reproach,” he offered her his arm again. “You have my word.”

(Y/n) accepted with a wary expression but allowed him to pull her back into the hall and west towards the feast. She could hear it now. There was raucous laughter and loud music filling the air.

“Lady Lannister,” Three more long hallways, and Jaime presented his sister to the Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark.

“Lady Stark,” (Y/n) curtsied with an elegant twist of her hand. “Judging by the sounds, this will be quite the feast.”

“Indeed,” Catelyn’s smile was warm but not at all inviting. There was a distance to the woman as she stood awkwardly in front of her.

(Y/n) bit back a smirk. Catelyn Stark was smart. Distrusting a Lannister was usually the right idea. “It’s not every day the King makes the long journey north. I’m sure they are excited to be part of such a grand occasion.”

“Made grander by your presence, dear sister.” Jaime had gone to retrieve Cersei.

“My queen, I doubt you need me to accomplish such a task.” (Y/n) gave Cersei a friendly smile. “You are, after all, the Queen of Westeros. What could I possibly add?”

The formality of the conversation between the siblings visibly disconcerted Catelyn. She couldn’t tell what was heartfelt and what was show. Catelyn was caught in a conversation with three Lannister, unable to speak but unable to leave.

“Too gracious of you, sister.” Cersei deferred away. “Jaime retrieved me from my conversation with our host because I hoped to ask you a favor.”

(Y/n) shot her gaze after Ned Stark at the other end of the hall. She would ask about the discussion later; they both knew that. “Do share, my queen. If it is within my power, I will happily oblige.”

Cersei touched a gentle hand to Catelyn’s shoulder, dragging her, unwanted, back into the fold. “Robb Stark, your dear boy,” the Queen smiled to Catelyn, “is the male heir of greatest standing and is duty bound to escort my sweet Myrcella to the feast this evening.”

“That he is,” Catelyn wasn’t sure the explanation was meant for her. It would be far greater offense to ignore than to interrupt.

“It,” the Queen paused as though looking for the right word, but (Y/n) knew whatever was to come Cersei had practiced down to the last pause, “unsettles me.” She seemed to finally choose the word. “He’s an honorable man. I’m certain of that. Still, he’s a man nonetheless, and Myrcella is so young. As a mother of daughters, I am sure you can understand my hesitation.”

Catelyn didn’t, but she acquised. “Of course, my queen. What would you propose?”

“If my sister and your son will agree,” Cersei turned to (Y/n), as if she had a choice in the matter, “I would ask that Myrcella walk with your lovely boy Bran, while Robb escorts (Y/n).”

(Y/n) nodded, “Of course, my queen. If it would ease your mind.”

Catelyn stepped back from Cersei, removing the Lannister’s hand from her shoulder. “I will speak with my son for you, my queen,” She curtsied as she backed away towards the other end of the entryway, where her sons congregated with their father, Robert, and the Baratheon boys.

“Well that went well,” Jaime snorted as he watched Catelyn’s hasty retreat.

“She’s scared,” Cersei rolled her eyes after the older woman.

“She hides it well, though,” (Y/n) offered a subtle agreement. “Do you actually wish me and Myrcella to switch? Or were you just looking to unnerve her?”

When her face turned back to the safety of her siblings, Cersei’s lip curled into a sneer. “I have no intention of that Northmen touching my Myrcella. Robert already means to give my Joff to that wench, Sansa, but at least he’ll be able to stay with me. I won’t have Robert abandoning my sweet girl all alone up here in this waste. That man and this so-called castle aren’t worthy of her.”

“Voices down, sister,” (Y/n) warned with little concern actually seeping through to her tone. “I’ll walk with the Stark. No one will leave Myrcella in the cold.”

“Woman!” Robert’s voice boomed.

(Y/n) caught only a glimpse of Cersei as she turned. The twins truly did share everything. Cersei’s jaw clenched before she lied, as well. “Yes, my love?” It wasn’t a terribly good lie either.

“It’s time to feast. Walk with Ned.”

(Y/n) watched her sister’s hung head approach Ned Stark. If she was a fool, as Robert Baratheon most assuredly was, she would think Cersei humbled, but (Y/n) was no fool.

“My lady.”

(Y/n)’s hair whipped at her cheek, turning her head far too quickly for her to hide that she was anything but surprised by the voice. She hadn’t heard Robb Stark approach, nor had she expected to hear his voice. It wasn’t often that anyone caught her by surprise.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I was told by my mother that I am to escort you.” Robb offered her his hand with a bow. “Unless, of course, you would prefer the company of Rickon.” His smile was teasing but genuine. It was a refreshing change of pace.

“Do not tempt me,” She smiled politely in return. “He is a charmingly adorable child.”

Her hand reached out to accept his, only for his whole body to jerk back the second their fingers brushed.

She couldn’t deny she felt it to.

(Y/n) had long forgotten about the writing on her arm. It was an irritation she had to conceal behind her sleeves, nothing more.

Peasants had a habit of naming their children after their liege lords and other powerful men in Westeros. After Robert became King, Robb proved to be an incredibly common name throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

Not that that would have stopped her. If she truly wanted, she could have offered a gold dragon as reward for every ‘Robb’ in Westeros that came to the Rock to touch her hand. She could have sent the Mountain through the lands to find every man with (Y/n) still written on his arm. She could have snuck away in the dead of night with some knights who preferred her to her father and traveled the Seven Kingdoms in her search. She could have walked the twenty paces from her chambers to the sept and prayed to any of the Seven to put Robb in her path.

Instead, she did nothing. Because, in truth, she had never considered searching for him. (Y/n) didn’t want to meet Robb.

Whatever god was responsible for the names was clearly not listening to her wants.

A burning sensation raced across her arm where she knew Robb’s name to be. She knew what was happening. She’d seen the scars on her father’s skin.

At the first touch, the ink in the skin burned away. It left a mark like the brand of an iron. The scars left behind once it healed would form a mate’s family name.

In a few day’s time, Robb’s arm would read ‘Lannister’, and (Y/n) would forever be signed with the name ‘Stark’.

She always knew finding her mate would be a very bad thing, but this was worse than she’d imagined.

(Y/n)’s aloof mask remained in place, completely ignoring the pain in her arm and Robb’s reaction. “Shall we, Lord Stark?”

Robb was frozen for several long moments in utter confusion. This was obviously not what he’d expected. Taking her hand, utterly baffled by her response, Robb led (Y/n) into the feast as though nothing had transpired.

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A knock to her door woke (Y/n) early the next morning.

“Jaime, if that’s you again, I swear I’ll tell father about accidentally dumping his prized chest in the ocean.” (Y/n) groaned loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear.

“Now, now, sister,” Jaime didn’t wait for any further invitation and slipped her door only just wide enough to step inside before he slammed it shut. “I’m here by orders of our King.”

(Y/n) rolled out from beneath the furs. “Oh, what could that oaf ever want with me?” She quickly slipped behind her changing screen to put on the dress her maid had left hung over the top of the divider.

“The King asked for you, but I don’t think it was by his own design.”

“Of course it wasn’t. Why would he ever wish to talk to any woman who could think?” (Y/n) quelled her laugh to a soft chuckle. “Help me with these laces,” she came to stand braced against her bed.

Jaime groaned but approached without hesitation, “Sister, you have handmaidens for this. Do you not? Has father so deprived you in my absence?”

(Y/n) commented snidely over her shoulder. “You’re telling me you’ve not helped our sister in more precarious positions than this?”

Jaime gripped the laces and jerked them tight around her body, knocking the wind out of her. “That,” He began to lace her corset back the rest of the way up, “was cheap, even from you.”

She hummed in agreement. “Perhaps it was, but we’re all allowed our days. Yours come once a moon. Tyrion’s come on any day you refuse to let him drink. Cersei’s on any day she has to pretend to enjoy Robert’s company.” (Y/n) twisted to face Jaime with a grin, “Father’s on any day the sun dares to rise.”

Jaime chuckled at that. “And what, dear sister,” he asks as he opens her door, “has you so downtrodden?”

She simply shook her head. “Not for your ears, Jaime. At least, not till I figure out what to say.”

Jaime frowned. “You know, I’m not half as smart as you or Tyrion, but I’m a far better listener. You can always come to me, even if you don’t know what to say.”

“Of course, Jaime.” (Y/n) doubted many things, but she never doubted that.

Their walk to Robert’s chambers passed in comfortable silence. (Y/n) had far too much to contemplate to maintain a conversation, and Jaime knew his sister well enough not to disturb her.

His knock on Robert’s door seemed to be the only thing to wake her from her own mind.

“Enter,” came the King’s voice from inside.

Jaime opened the door for his sister and froze when he saw the contents of the room. The King sat at the desk in the corner with Ned Stark leaned against the wall nearby. Catelyn Stark occupied the chair in the corner, and her eldest son stood at her side.

“My King, the Lady (Y/n) Lannister.” Jaime announced his sister as she stepped through after him.

As usual, (Y/n)’s expression gave nothing away. It was as if she was entirely unsurprised by this gathering. “My King, my lords, my lady,” (Y/n) dipped in acknowledgment of those in the room.

“Leave us, Kingslayer.” Robert spat to Jaime, ignoring (Y/n) as though she hadn’t spoke.

Jaime hesitated. For the first time in a long time, he considered disobeying his king. Jaime didn’t know where this was going, but he didn’t want to leave his sister to face them alone.

“Thank you, Ser Jaime,” (Y/n) only said the words as reason to turn to her brother. Her eyes flicked towards the door, a warning for Jaime to leave.

“Your Grace,” Jaime bowed and took the exit. It was Boros Blount’s turn to stand guard at the King’s door, but a glare at the man and a wave of Jaime’s wrist were all it took to send the knight off down the hall. Jaime trusted his sister in these situations, but he did not trust the rest of the room.

“How may I be of service?” (Y/n) asked as the door clanged shut behind her.

Without getting up, Robert managed to turn his chair with a loud scrape against the floor. “You know damn well how. Show us your arm, girl.”

Every eye in the room was on her, and she could read them all. Robert’s impatient agitation; Robb’s deep confusion; Ned’s sanctimonious disappointment; Catelyn’s misplaced rage. She was a lioness alone, and she was surrounded by the wolf pack.

“I see you’ve spoken to your son,” Her eyes rested on Catelyn’s as she jerked her sleeve, unceremoniously, up her arm. “He was not wrong,” (Y/n) showed the room the fresh burn on her arm that was already healing to form the word ‘Stark’.

“Damnit Ned.” That seemed to be a common saying of the King’s when he was in the presence of Starks.

“Well,” Catelyn huffed, turning on her husband and Robert, “What do we plan to do about this?”

(Y/n) honestly wondered how the woman managed to get a word out. If (Y/n) crossed her arms so tightly over her chest, she would hardly be able to breath, let alone form a coherent thought.

Robert forced himself from his chair with a sigh. It was before midday, and there had been a feast the previous night. This was far too early for the King to be awake, much less officiating important discussion. “What can we do? It’s a sign from the gods. We can’t ignore it.”

Catelyn was utterly fuming. Her son, her Robb, joined forever to a Lannister. She would not stand for such a thing.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” (Y/n) cut in before Catelyn could burst, “But it sounds to me as though you’re implying I wed Robb Stark.”

Robert snorted out a laugh. “Gods, and here I thought you were one of the smart ones. Turns out you’re as slow as Lancel.” Robert crossed the room and clapped his namesake on the shoulder, pulling the Stark boy into the conversation. “Of course that’s what I mean. Ned raised his sons well. Robb’s a good, strong man, and the heir to Winterfell. You’d be lucky to have him at your side.”

“I’m sure you are correct, my King, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have no intention of marrying Robb Stark.”

Silence.

(Y/n) thought, if she listened carefully, she would be able to hear the breaths of the Kingsguard stationed outside.

Of the rare occasions that nobility were found to be mates and did not marry, there had always been something keeping them apart. Never had it been because one openly refused the other. Why would anyone, noble or otherwise, refuse their perfect match put on this earth by the gods themselves?

“Forgive me,” (Y/n) spoke slowly. She was alone on shaky ground, and she desperately needed to keep the King’s anger in check, “but my hand is my father’s to give away as he sees fit. No one else’s.”

“You would stand against the wishes of your king.”

(Y/n) immediately refuted Robert’s words. “I would stand with the wishes of my family. Wherever that may lead me.”

“You will do as your king commands.” Robert’s hand slipped from Robb’s shoulder, and he took a step towards (Y/n) Lannister.

(Y/n) didn’t bat an eye. “After my father agrees,” was the most she would concede, knowing full well it would take more than a miracle from the Seven to get Tywin Lannister to send her to Winterfell.

“You think your father would refute a match to the future Warden of the North? You Lannisters think yourselves that much better than the rest of us. Don’t you?” Robert stood close enough that flecks of his spit landed on her cheek.

(Y/n) wiped them away with her sleeve and a completely blank expression. “I think nothing, my King. I think I should wait for my father’s approval before I agree to things such as this.”

“Robert, the girl is right,” Ned took a step toward his old friend, but Robert raised his hand in warning, causing the Stark to freeze.

He left his hand in the air in case anyone else dared to interrupt them. “I have had it with you Lannisters. I rule Westeros. I am your King, not Tywin Lannister.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed. She had had it with the King as much as he’d had it with her. Her father didn’t hold the title King of Westeros, but he held all the power of one, more than one if that one was Robert Baratheon. She was more than capable of playing the game, of placating men like Robert. But she was every bit her father’s daughter. She did not stand insults in silence.

Robert saw (Y/n) open her mouth, but all he heard was Tywin Lannister as she said, “Any man who must say, I am the King, is no true King.”

A loud snap echoed through the room, followed by a crack.

Robert Baratheon stood, looking down on his handiwork.

(Y/n) Lannister laid sprawled out on the floor with the force of a hard punch to her jaw that no one had seen coming. For a man well past his prime, Robert Baratheon could still manage all the force in his fists that his hammer had made famous during the Rebellion. The blow had knocked the girl down before anyone could think to stop him, before Ned could pull him back, before she could raise a hand in defense, before she could take a step back to brace.

For years, Robert had dreamed of doing exactly that to Tywin Lannister. Dreamed of knocking the old man back down where he belonged. Dreamed of standing with the Lord of Casterly Rock at his feet. Dreamed of watching the arrogant man bleed the same red as his banners.

This girl, (Y/n), she wasn’t Tywin Lannister. She sounded like her father. She acted like her father. But when Robert looked down at her, he only saw a girl. He had punched a young girl for nothing more than speaking to him.

If he had punched the real Tywin Lannister, he would have lost the offending hand by now. Instead, in his fury, he’d punched the Lannister’s young daughter. He still might lose his hand. The girl was a lion, through and through. She had claws, and one of them was standing right outside.

Another was, apparently, behind him.

Robb Stark pushed the King’s shoulder in his hurry to check the girl. “(Y/n), are you hurt?” The Stark boy took both of her hands in his, helping her as gently as he could, to her feet.

“I will be fine,” (Y/n) slowly brushed down her skirts and gave a smile clearly only meant for Robb. “Thank you.”

“I should take you to the Maester.” Robb clearly meant it to be an offer, but it came out more as an order.

(Y/n)’s shoulder had caught her as she fell, keeping her head from the floor; but the crack as she hit the stone was still a sickening sound. It would echo in the room for years.

Every time Robb saw his mate, he would see the King throwing her to the floor, and remember that he didn’t stop Robert in time. Ned would never be able to speak of Robert as an honorable man again; down in the crypts, he would thank the gods Lyanna hadn’t lived to be his. Catelyn would pause every time she made to speak ill of a Lannister; she would remember Robb helping (Y/n) to her feet. She would remember (Y/n)’s response.

“Thank you, Robb, but I think I’d like my brother.” (Y/n) turned to the door and called out, loud enough to be heard on the other side, “Jaime!”

The door swung open in a second. Jaime had been waiting, ear close to the door, for any word that he could enter the room. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes darted around the room for what had made the earlier noise.

A bruise was already flowering on (Y/n)’s face, and her dress was pulled askew off her shoulder.

“Would you be so kind as to escort me to the Maester’s?”

Jaime marched forward and caught his sister’s chin, tilting it up and away that he might examine the mark. “Is your maester a good healer, Lord Stark?” Rage dripped from Jaime’s every word, but he did not dare to ask how his sister was hurt. He already knew the answer, and it was one he could not stand to think on for long.

“That won’t be necessary, Jaime.” (Y/n) brushed his hand away and met his gaze. “I’m quite fine. I only need to send a raven.”

“For what purpose?”

How Robert Baratheon had worked up the nerve to question the woman he’d just injured was a mystery to even his oldest friend, but (Y/n) seemed unphased.

She turned to the King, smirking through her pain, “The North truly is beautiful, and I really do think father would appreciate seeing it before winter comes.”

“You-You will do no such thing.” It wasn’t fear in Robert’s voice. Ned was sure of that, but he thought it might have been defeat.

“Oh, I assure you I will.” (Y/n) grabbed her brother’s free hand, leaving the other in a death grip on his sword. The Kingslayer followed her without complaint, walking backwards to keep his eye on the King until they reached the door. “It’s high time Tywin Lannister sees Winterfell. Or do I need to remind you what truly unites the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon? Because we both know, it’s not your throne.”

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Next Time On... Part Two

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 23

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 23: With Tommy and Kate now separated, they both have to make sense of their new realities.

Warning: Abuse

When the devil catches up to you, what do you do? Do you fight? Or do you admit defeat?

Normally, it would be fairly easy to get Tommy out of jail, especially if it was a minor offense like breaching the peace. The Shelbys had enough pull in that sector. But it didn’t help his case that he punched one of the officers so hard that it burst a blood vessel in his eye. Still, they managed to get him released before dark the same day. Even by that time, he was still raging.

“That bastard knew we were coming.” He ranted as he stormed through the betting shop.

Polly was standing in the doorway of her office, arms crossed over her chest. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Thomas.”

He stopped to glare at her. “What was that?”

She pointed to his office. “She left a letter for you. I found it after you left.”

Tommy almost hesitated to go read it. He was worried what it might say. Still, he didn’t have much of a choice, so he went into his office, taking off his coat and cap as he went. As Polly said, there was an envelope sitting on his desk, addressed to him. The envelope was the same type as the ones they used in the office. Maybe she had swiped one when she was passing through. The past couple of years, Tommy had grown to recognize her handwriting. Just like he recognized the scent of her perfume, her laugh, and even the sound of her heels walking down the hallway. But he was completely unaware that he had been cataloging all these little tells. No idea that she had made such a deep impression on him. Well, he didn’t know until she was gone.

Bracing himself, he sat down at his desk and lit a cigarette. He opened the envelope and removed the folded parchment paper.

Dear Tommy,

By now you’ll know I’ve left and I don’t intend on coming back. I’m sorry it had to happen this way, but I wanted you to know that you did everything you could. In the end, this is just the way it has to be. I don’t feel I have enough time to tell you everything I want to tell you. I blame myself for that. Maybe if I had been more honest, I wouldn’t feel like I was leaving loose ends. But that’s my burden I have to carry, not yours.

There are a lot of explanations as to why I did what I did. When the devil catches up to you, what do you do? Do you fight? Or do you admit defeat? When Santo threatened you and your family, I made up my mind. I’m not a martyr, I’m the one who brought this trouble to you in the first place. It’s my responsibility to take care of it. So that’s what I’m doing now. I don’t want you at war with Santo or the Changrettas. Your family has had enough heartache as it is. To start a battle with them would only bring more grief.

I obviously can’t control you, but I would urge you to just leave it be. Don’t try to find me in America and don’t try to cause anymore trouble with the Italians. Just leave it be.

Please know that I’ve left my heart with you. I know I won’t ever love anyone the way I’ve loved you.

Please give everyone my love, including the boys in Camden Town.

Always,

Kate.

Tommy was heartbroken. Heartbroken and furious. It was a strikingly same feeling to when Grace admitted she wasn’t pregnant. Betrayed was too weak of a word. But was it that simple? His eyes scanned the letter again. She had done it to protect him and his family. Why wasn’t he enough? Why couldn’t she trust that he would take care of her? Maybe he hadn’t proved it well enough to her. Maybe she saw how Grace collapsed in that ballroom, blood pouring from her wound, and thought she would be the next victim if she stayed.

He stood up, throwing the letter to the side and pacing like a rabid dog in front of his desk. After his fourth or fifth pass, he couldn’t contain his grief. He threw a right hook at the wall with enough force to put a crack through the plaster. His brain didn’t even register the pain.

Polly stepped into his office when she heard the loud bang. Her nephew sank to his knees, cradling his bloodied knuckles to his chest. He hunched over his head low. She could remember a time when he was in the same position. Only a young man finding out his mother had passed. It seemed to be the start. The formation of a man he currently was. Life continued to throw hurdles at him, relentless blows that he tried to take with a brave face. But even when he moved past the troubles, he left a piece of himself behind.

Polly couldn’t guess what he needed most. His family could love him until the end of time but it didn’t seem to be enough. There was always something missing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate couldn’t even begin to understand all the different emotions that hit her when they docked in Boston Harbor. When she stepped off the gangplank, she tried not to think about how many miles were now between her and Birmingham. She figured the less she tried to think about it, the better off she would be. The less heartbroken she would be.

She was full of trepidation. Santo hadn’t said much to her on the voyage across the Atlantic. It was almost as if he was waiting until they were finally back in his territory. Back where he felt most in control. And once he was back in that seat of power, there was no telling what he would do to her.

Santo led Kate through the crowd of passengers to a Bugatti that was waiting for them.

A well-dressed man stood near it and smiled when they approached. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Miss Kate. Been quite some time, hasn’t it?”

She was well familiar with those who were closest to Santo. Every one of them was insufferable in her opinion. Only low-lifes wanted to cling to him. “Mick.” She muttered a begrudging greeting in response.

“She looks a little down, boss, was it something I said?” Mickey asked with a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended.

Santo chuckled and put a hand on Kate’s shoulder, pressing his fingers in a bit firmer than was necessary. “She’s just tired from the journey is all.”

Mickey opened the back door of the car for them. “Well, ain’t too long of a drive back. Welcome home, Katie.”

~~~~~~~~

The North End had been Santo’s home base since the beginning. The strong Italian community there was where he grew up and prospered. Kate had been there but was raised in South Boston, so she didn’t feel very at home there. She didn’t feel very at home at all in the city. It felt like such a distant part of her past, a part she wasn’t willing to revisit.

Mickey drove them through the winding, narrow streets of the North End until they reached Santo’s home. He brought their luggage inside while they stood out on the sidewalk.

Santo wrapped an arm around Kate’s waist, pulling her close. “What’d you think? Good spot, isn’t it? Got everything you need around too. Don’t have to go far for anything.”

Kate felt nauseated as she looked up at the building.

“C’mon.” He ushered her inside and upstairs.

It was a significantly nicer place than Kate’s flat back in Small Heath. The sitting room had dark wood walls and a few stiff armchairs and sofas. Santo’s wealth was on display with art pieces on the wall, gold accents, and fragile vases adorning the side tables. The corridor led to a dining room and kitchen. Another set of stairs led up to the bedrooms.

“Big improvement from that shit hole I think.” He remarked from the doorway as he watched Kate look around.

“I hate it.” She replied and glared at him pointedly.

She saw a flash of anger in his eyes but he just chuckled. “Well, you’ll learn to like it, won’t you?” He moved toward her. "This will be your home, so I think it'll grow on you."

“You stay the fuck away from me.” She warned and tried to back away from him but the back of her knees hit an arm of the sofa.

“Micina, I don’t want to fight with you. This was the arrangement. This is what you understood and agreed to before you left. Either you got the money or you married me. Simple as that. Now that you’re back, you’re going to honor that agreement.”

“I’ll honor your agreement. But I’ll loathe you until the day I die. I’ll be fucking sick to my stomach whenever I look at you. I’ll hate every moment I’m in the same room as you. I’ll wake up every morning wishing you were dead.” She spat and squared her shoulders.

That’s the breaking point she reached. Santo grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face up against the nearest wall. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “Listen here, you ungrateful bitch. You’ll learn to appreciate me. I own you now and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it. If you fight me, if you insult me, if you ruin my image, I will send my men over to kill your beloved gypsies. And I’ll have them come back with all their heads in boxes so you can open them and see what you’ve done.”

Kate wasn’t focused on the ache throbbing in her face or the pain from him pulling her hair. She was trying not to cry so to show him he wouldn’t beat her. In the end, her dignity was all she had left. He would never take that from her. “Burn in hell.” She snarled.

“You fucking whore.” He let go of her hair and shoved her away from the wall just so he could slap her across the face. “Just you wait. If I have to beat obedience into you, I fucking will.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Now go upstairs and clean yourself up. You still smell like that disgusting city.”

Kate stormed past him and up the stairs to the third story. She found the bathroom and locked herself in it. It was devastating to see herself in the mirror. Her lip was bloodied and she already had a bruise forming on her temple. Her hair was in disarray and her eye makeup was smudged. She was furious with herself. Furious that she had fallen so low by her own fault. She let out a scream of frustration and punched the mirror. The surface cracked and distorted her reflection. Blood dripped from her knuckles as she gripped the edge of the sink.

She didn’t care if she had to fight him every day for the rest of her life. Santo would receive nothing from her. No peace. No love. No acceptance. Nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

If Kate had been there, Tommy might have admitted he was in way over his head. With everything from the Russians to Father Hughes, he felt at his wits end. Late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he tried to imagine what Kate might say to him.

I’m always right, Tommy, that’s why you should listen to me more.

She was nearly always right. He longed for her to be there, to tell him she was right.

“How many hours of sleep are you getting?” Polly asked moments after Esme and Lizzie left the sitting room. They had been there confronting him about bathrooms then suddenly about the robbery. God, it made his head spin.

Tommy sat down at the table. “Doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is I can’t trust Esme and I can’t trust the fucking Russians and I can’t trust me own fucking brother with anything.” He snapped agitatedly.

His aunt watched him as she lit a cigarette. “You would’ve trusted Kate with the information.”

There was no denying the facial tic when he heard her name. Many people had been wary to mention her in front of him, afraid it would set him off or just send him into a darker place. But Polly didn’t fear him.

“Kate didn’t run her mouth.” He muttered in reply, his eyes going down.

“You’re right. She kept secrets well.”

That only seemed to annoy him more. “You know there is a general lack of discipline in this fucking company.” He complained if anything just to try and steer the conversation elsewhere.

“She made her decision. It can’t keep you occupied or things will go badly. You need to focus on what you’re dealing with now.” Polly advised.

“I’m getting her back, Pol.” He spoke in a clipped manner. “I’m bringing her back home.”

“Tommy…”

“I just-I just need to kill that fucking priest and to have everything go to plan.”

“You’re grieving.” She said calmly. “Of course, you are. You lost Grace and now you’ve lost her. But I know that you make bad choices when you grieve. Now more than ever, you need a level head. Maybe you need to forget her for the time being and take care of what you can here.” It wasn’t for Polly to decide who was right or wrong. She had no ill-will toward Kate, in fact, she had always appreciated her presence to be another one of logical thinking. But she felt it was very far-fetched for Tommy to try and launch a rescue mission. Especially because she didn’t know what sort of messes they would get tangled in if he tried. Facing America mobsters on their own turf was the last thing the family needed. Not when they were already wrapped up in some convoluted plan.

“I’ll forget her when hell freezes over.” Tommy stood up. “I only told you about the priest, keep it that way.” He urged before he left in a huff.

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livingmybestfakelife · 5 years

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St. James Infirmary

Summary: As much as Tommy wanted to fulfill his promise to you to move on, this might be one that he just can’t keep

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

“Let it go, let it go, God bless her

Wherever she may be”

The only thing stopping him from getting up was his wife cuddled on top of him, he envied Grace's ability to sleep throughout the night, he tried his hardest to gently move her, making her stir a little before she stilled again, letting out a silent sigh he sits up and goes to slip on a shirt and his pajama pants, the cold floor on the bottom of his feet didn't bother him like it usually does, for some reason he was burning up despite the fact that it was snowing outside, maybe he was coming down with a cold and had a fever, which would be the last thing he needed right now, he was too busy to have to lay in bed for a week.

Once he arrived to his office he streched and and plopped down in his chair, doing nothing for a moment but stare at the piles of paper on his desk, why did he think it was a good idea to begin doing loads of paperwork while in a drowsy state was beyond him, it was just something in him itching to do it “Well, let’s get this over with, maybe I’ll get bored to sleep” he says to himself while lifting up a pen, once again doing nothing, he didn’t understand what was going on with him lately, this happened for the fifth night in a row, waking up around the same time and not being able to go back to sleep, and if he did he’d just wake back up a couple of hours later, the insomnia begin to show on his face, bags forming under his eyes and his wrinkles becoming more prominent, everyone was worried but him, using the stress of business as an excuse but they knew better.

After all it was nearing the anniversary of your unfortunate death, the family agreed that this was the cause of his unhealthy sleeping schedule but knew well enough not to bring it up, it was too important for him to forget, the reason for his coldness, besides the war, your death drained Tommy of any peace, any faith and hope for the future, he no longer planned ahead or was optimistic, “whatever happens will just have to happen” he once told Polly the evening after your funeral, her heart broke for her nephew, never seeing him give up this easily.

He tossed his pen on a stack of paper before leaning back in his chair “the fuck is the matter with you?” He mumbles, he knew the answer to that question but choose to not acknowledge it, the denial comforting him just a little, the less he remembered the better, he had to fight it and stuff it away, it’s what you wanted, you never liked how he always fussed over you, obsessed over your entire being, so much so that he was willing to change and go fully legit once he arrived home from France “I’ll be an honest man for you, I want you to be proud of me”.

But being an honest businessman wasn’t him, maybe as a lover but not professionally, no matter how much he loved and adored you, there will always be a part of him that would miss his old ways, you never pushed him to be anything he wasn’t, his business was never something you were that into, of course you showed up to family meetings and gave your input when needed, but other than that you kept your opinions to yourself, more comfortable staying behind the scenes.

He still thought of you as an important factor to the company, helping out whenever things got backed up, assisting either him or Polly with whatever they needed, he once caught a glimpse of you and Pol having tea in her office during a break, you had stood up to refill your cup, and when the sunlight hit you he had noticed a pudge in your stomach, it made his heart want to hop out of his chest, how did he not notice it before? You, his dream girl was pregnant with his baby, HIS child, who else? Well he could think of someone else but you hadn’t seen him in over a month, he made sure of it, that part of your life with the prim and proper pretty boy and heir to his fathers newspaper company was over.

It wasn’t until later that night when he finally said something to you about it, wrapping his arms around your waist as you were taking out your earrings, he looked you up and down in the mirror and then pecked your neck “I finally have you for good now” you gave him a dumbfounded look and it only made him chuckle, moving his hands up and down your slightly swollen belly “We’re having a baby YN, a little you and me” your hands begin to shake and he reached over to hold them “Everything is gonna be alright love, it’s all gonna be alright”

He was interrupted from his thoughts when the door opened and soft footsteps made it’s way closer to him, looking up to see his daughter rubbing her eyes and yawning “Hi daddy” he grinned while opening his arms wide, waiting for her to hop into his arms “Hello ladybug, what are you doing up aye?” “I had a dream about mummy, she was singing to me, I wanted to come tell you” he held his baby tight in his arms, not wanting to let her go even more after hearing her confession, she was one of very few things left in the world to remember you by, he obviously had to get rid of your clothes because of Grace, donating them to the local shelters, your jewelry going to Ada, all he had left were two photos and his daughter Tulip Esmeralda, she was the spitting image of you, eyes, hair texture, even your cute high pitched laugh, now that you were gone she was his main priority in this life, sure he cared for Grace, she was beautiful and sweet enough, but she wasn’t you, and especially not his little Tulip, often putting her first which she understood completely, still doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Mummy sounded beautiful didn’t she, love” “Yes dad, just as pretty as she is” he held in his tears and gave her a big kiss on the cheek, she then got down from his lap and kissed his cheek before going to leave “Going so soon, you just got here?” “I just wanted to tell you that daddy, don’t you wanna hear about what mummy is doing in heaven?” He nods and smiles “Course I do” “She loves me and you daddy, the angels are taking care of her...night night!” She runs off back to bed, leaving the door wide open “Night night” he shouts back.

He sits there for a while then hears another pair of footsteps, heavier ones than ones of a seven year old “Thomas?” Grace is standing at the door, wrapping her robe tightly around her “What are you doing up?” She enters the office but he holds a hand up to stop her “It’s alright, I’m coming back to bed, feeling a little drowsy now” she gives him a little smile and he gets up to walk her out “Was that Tulip I heard earlier?” “Yep, she was coming to tell me that she saw YN again” she nods and clears her throat, as hard as she tried to hide her discomfort, it was all over her face, just when she thought that he finally had you out of his system, here came his daughter to place you back in, it wasn’t enough that she had to look at your portrait everyday on the wall next to the staircase, you, him and baby Tulip, he couldn’t bring himself to take that down as well.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, she forces a smile and shakes her head “Nothing, it’s wonderful that she remembers her mum” “Seriously what’s wrong?” Grace sighs and closes the door, this was it, she couldn’t hold back anymore, she knew she would sound like unsympathetic but it was how she felt “Why did you love her more than she loved you?” “Excuse me?” She kept her composure, not wanting to back down so soon “You wanna know who I ran into today in town? David Mills, you know, her ex fiancé...Well we talked, had a deep conversation, mostly about YN, how you framed him for treason and gotten him banned from the United Kingdom for three years, he knew you had something to do with it but could never prove it, and when he returned from America he discovered that YN had moved on, you both had gotten married and Tulip was already like what, two years old? You wanna know what else he told me Thomas? He told me that YN had wrote to him during those years he had been away, she was very much still in love with him, but felt trapped because she had your baby and knew you’d never let her go” “That’s not true” “It very much is, it’s been that way ever since you both were teenagers, she could never break from your chain Thomas you were always-“ she yelped when he slammed his fist up against the wall beside her head, he gripped her jaw and made her look at him “Every time we fuck all I see is her, I see YN, I have to hold myself back from calling her name to not hurt your feelings, don’t think for ONE second that just because I married you that my love for her lessened, it will be her till the day I die, all that I own and posses in this world will go to my daughter when I pass on, all that I’ve earned and built was for our family together, and now that she’s gone the next thing close to her is our child, every single cent Grace, widows don’t always get everything...she’s a nice kid so she might be willing to share with you, consider yourself lucky of her generosity” he lets her go and opens the door and storming out, leaving her there speechless, she lets out a little weep and covers her mouth to muffle her cries.

All this time she’d been jealous of you because of the adoration he held for you, the attention he gave to you, from the outside looking in you were the luckiest girl to have Thomas Shelby wrapped around your finger, her jealousy now turned to pitty, you had no choice but to be his favorite person, you were stuck and trapped up until your last day on Earth, your last day of life would be your only chance of freedom, love really does blind you, it made her miserable and him insane, and poor little Tulip is now the only thing keeping him semi stable, Grace thanks her lucky stars for that kid right now.

...

“Daddy?” “Shh go to sleep my love” “Okay” “Oh, and Tulip” “Yes daddy?” “If mummy visits again tell her that I love her okay” “Okay dad” He smoothes her hair away from her face and watches her drift off to sleep, he looks over to see one of the two pictures of you on her nightstand, “I love you Mrs. Shelby” he whispers, and for a second he could swear he can see you smile wider in the photo.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders imagine

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jonsastan · 5 years

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Jonsa Week - @incorrectjonsansa

Day 6 - a time for wolves

They’d survived the war. Most of them. Arya and Brienne and Jaime and Podrick and Jon.

Jon is home.

Sansa had tended Arya’s and Jon’s wounds herself. She had taken the medicine and salves Samwell made, and soothed and bound the wounds herself.

Arya had broken her right hand and been slashed down her left leg, but the hand was set and wound stitched up. Sansa had stitched it. Her even, beautiful stitched holding her sister together.

Jon had added to his collection of scars, one across his bicep, another down his leg, an arrow through his shoulder. She’d pulled the arrow out whilst Sam held him still. And burns, burns on his arms and legs and neck. Some from Daenerys, some from Rhaegal, but none too bad. Nothing that time and medicine and patience would not heal.

But within two weeks Daenerys was demanding their army march south to exact revenge on Cersei the Oathbreaker and take back the Iron Throne.

Jon had hobbled from his bed to join her.

“I promised, Sansa.” He’d whispered as she sat beside his bed. “I have to help her win the South so she won’t see me as a threat to her throne.”

She’d been so angry at him, He was so noble, and honest, and dutiful. He was Father all over again. She made him promise to come home, to come back to the North, to come back to her. And he promised.

Jaime went south too. But Brienne, Podrick, and Arya stayed in Winterfell. What was left of it. They stayed and they rebuilt as best they could. They housed and clothed and fed as many people as they could. Sansa gave orders, organised supplies, traded with allies and Arya was content to help the small-folk, to aid Gendry in the forge, to train with Brienne. They got an occasional raven from Jon. Telling them he was safe, they were winning, they all ended the same way.

“Sansa, I will keep my promise. -Jon.”

He had left Winterfell a kneeler, a potential prince, an injured soldier, he came back a King. Well, a potential king.

“She will grant us Northern independence. With the promise that the heir of Winterfell marries the heir to the Iron Throne.” He’d blushed as he said this and it took Sansa a second to grasp the suggestion.

“You mean, if we wed, the North is free?” Sansa felt her heart lighten. No more appeasing the hatred of the south, no more deferring to others for their safety, just the North. And Jon.

“I will not force you into a marriage you do not want.” He was so concerned for her, it was written in his brows, and eyes, and lips.

“And if I want you?” She asked feeling bolder than she had in an eternity. Jon’s eyes shot up to hers. There was hope in those ice grey eyes.

“Father promised me someone kind, and gentle, and strong.” she murmured moving toward him “I think he meant you.” And she was kissing him, or maybe he was kissing her.

When their betrothal was announced Sansa had been worried. Worried about the Northern Lord’s reaction, worried about Brienne and Gendry and Podrick’s reaction, worried about Bran and Arya’s reaction.

The Lords had revelled in the idea. They were gaining a King and Queen in the North whose name is Stark. They were gaining independence. They were gaining everything.

Gendry hadn’t blinked an eye, saying something about the ways of Lords and Ladies. Podrick had offered congratulations, and Brienne has told Jon he was a good enough fighter to protect Sansa.

Telling Bran had been odd, as were most encounters with Bran. He’s almost smiled and said their Fathers would have wanted this. Before telling Sansa she would look beautiful. Arya had simply shrugged and said “It’s not like Jon was ever your brother. He was always just your family and now he’ll have our name.”

Within a week they stood before the Heart Tree, snow falling softly around them and Jon was not longer a Snow.

Not a month had past since Sansa Stark became a wife and a Queen than questions of an heir were being asked.

“Not even a whole moon’s turn!” Jon had fumed in their chambers. “As if planning a glass house, rebuilding Winterfell, and supporting the small-folk wasn’t enough, they want to add a child to the mix!”

“Do you not want children?” Sansa knew the answer, she knew deep in her soul, but she wanted to hear him say those words

“Of course I do. I’ve always wanted children, even when I thought I was just a bastard.” He smiled sadly as he came and sat next to her on their bed. “I thought I would name my son Robb.”

“And a girl?” She asked tentatively.

“Lyarra, maybe or Alys.”

“Would you mind having a girl before a boy?”

“I shall love all our children.” He paused and moved closer, embracing her. “I’ve been wondering about, perhaps, establishing a new custom or two for the North.” Sansa hummed a sign for him to continue. “You know how Mormont women are trained to fight?”Another hum from Sansa “And how the Dornish don’t consider sex in the line of succession?” Sansa turned her head to look at him. “I think we should suggest something similar to the Northern Lords.”

“Oh, Jon!” She kissed him, soundly and thoroughly, until she had to stop to breath.

“I take it you like the idea.”

“Yes.” She breathed before kissing him again, stroking his chest and hair and back, starting on the task of producing an heir.

Within two moons of their wedding Sansa was pregnant. She was a glowing figure when pregnant. Wylas Manderly said she looked like the Mother embodied. Sansa had smiled politely. She continued her duties, traipsing around the castle, slowly people began to follow, begging her to rest.

“Please, your grace. Just half an hour with your feet elevated” Samwell Tarly had begged.

“Maybe you shouldn’t run up the stairs to your meetings, your grace.” Brienne had suggested.

“You really should be wearing another cloak.” Arya had scolded. Until one morning eight months into her pregnancy Sansa could not be found.

Jon had been the first to notice, the first to panic, and the first to raise the alarm. Ghost had found her. She was sitting beneath the Heart Tree, on cushions and blankets with an embroidery hoop in her hand.

“The whole castle is in a panic.” He said with gentle reproach. Sansa’s mood had been unstable of late, she was prone to laugh, burst into tears, or start shouting with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Sansa did not look up from her work.

“I needed to be here. I needed Father, and Mother, and Robb, and Rickon.” Jon nodded his understanding and left her in peace. He organised to have warm drinks and food be brought to her at regular intervals but gave strict instructions that Queen Sansa was not to be spoken to unless she spoke first. Sansa was grateful.

Jon had always kept a cool head in a panic. It was his training as a soldier. He could command in battle, defeat White Walkers, ride his dragon. But the screams of his wife almost drove him mad. It did not matter that it was natural, that it was happening faster than most other births, that Queen Sansa was doing well. She was in pain, and he could not help. She was in pain and he’d gotten her into that state. He stood outside the door and paced. He’s tried to follow them into the birthing room but was told that it was not appropriate.

After the third scream Jon stopped in front of the door and listened for anything. And then he heard her, clear as crystal.

“I want Jon. Get me Jon!” He pulled the door open without a second thought and flew to his wife’s side. She gripped his hand and tried to smile at him.

“You are so brave, my love.” He murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. “Braver than I ever could be.” Her face was sweaty and her hair sticking to her forehead, her eyes were wide with exhaustion and fear. He truly believed she was braver than him. He had gone into battle, knowing that he might die, accepting it and not expecting anything. But Sansa had allowed herself to become pregnant, to anticipate a child, knowing her odds of surviving. She had allowed this to happen once and he knew she wanted it to happen again and again and again. She would die for a child she would never know.

“You’re not leaving me.” He murmured as Sansa squeezed his hand and shuddered. “Promise me Sansa. You’re not leaving me.” Sansa gasped and winced.

“I promise.”

Their first son was born 20 minutes later.

Winterfell rang with the laughter of children and Jon could not have been happier. His eldest boy was almost ready to ride a pony and his younger sister was already following him around.

Jon’s son looked like him, brown hair, grey eyes and a solemn face even at the age of 5. His daughter looked like Sansa. With auburn hair and a gentle smile, with eyes such a pale blue they might have been violet. Sansa waddled toward him. She waddled when she was close to her time, but Jon would never tell her this.

“We’ve had a raven from the Queen in the South.” She handed the scroll to him. His aunt was informing him of her plans to travel North and meet her great-nephew and great-niece. Sansa had been concerned about this. That the barren Queen in the South would want one of her and Jon’s children to sit the Iron Throne.

“We are safe. We are home. We are together. We shall remain this way.” He pulled her toward him and pressed his forehead to hers. “I promise.”

#incorrectjonsansa #incorrect jonsa week #jonsa #Sansa Stark #Jon Snow #mine

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celtics534 · 5 years

Text

Third Act Love Now

Doom Days Chapter 10 is upon us, so get ready! I don’t thank them enough so @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk, you guys are awesome and thank you for everything you do!

Also Read On: FF.net or AO3

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Ginny bit her bottom lip as Harry ran across the street. His footsteps seemed louder in the eerie morning silence. The gas can tied to his rucksack bumped his back as he moved.

"It's gonna be fine, Ginny." Bill's large hand started rubbing soothing circles on her back. "We'll figure this all out."

"I just --" Ginny didn't know what to say or hell what to think. Over the last two weeks, she and Harry had watched for any sign that she wasn't pregnant, but the more time that passed, the more certain Ginny became. She hadn't realized she'd been two weeks late for her monthly that day Victorie hit her in the chest.

Now, here they were at the abandoned hospital filling up petrol cans in order to fuel a generator. They needed a generator in order to check and see if there truly was a baby growing inside her.

A baby.

Ginny’s head spun from the word. Baby. It was a word she never thought she’d hear in a practical sense again. Kind of like typewriter or chastity belt. A baby wasn’t something fit for the current world.

If she’d had a chastity belt she wouldn’t be in this fucking situation. Ginny’s over sarcastic inner voice was on a roll today. That wasn’t the only thing on a roll. Her stomach felt as if she were on a constant rollercoaster. Ginny couldn’t figure out if it was nerves or morning sickness.

Another tally mark to the pregnant column.

Harry opened the gas lid to an old beater truck. He used a tube to siphon the fuel.

"Ginny." Bill pulled her attention back to him. "Have you and Harry talked about everything yet?"

Talking had been the one thing they hadn't done. After that night, three weeks ago, when Ginny said the P-word, she and Harry had dodged the topic like the plague. They still acted like themselves;nothing in their physical relationship had changed. Harry would still wrap his arm over her shoulders at the dinner table, and she would still spoon him as they fell asleep, though their sex life had hit a steep decline. But it was their conversations that seemed to change the most. It was like they were on train tracks, refusing to defer to any other rail. The word baby was another rail, and hadn't been mentioned with both of them in the same room until Bill demanded they head to the hospital for testing.

No, Ginny had turned to Bill for all her baby concerns. Her brother instantly came to her aid, comforting her as she cried, talked to her as she panicked, and helped her plan how to check on the wellbeing of her unborn child.

She knew it wasn't a good thing that she and Harry didn't discuss things, but when she’d discussed her suspicions, Harry had shut down. He had sat frozen on their bed, his eyes glazed over. At first, Ginny had thought he was in shock, that Harry was just trying to mentally process the information. But he didn't mention it again, and she was too afraid of the topic herself to try and bring it back up to him.

“Ginny.” Bill’s tone was sympathetic. “You two need to talk about this. It’s not just gonna go away.”

“What happened when Fleur told you she was pregnant?” Ginny asked. She didn’t look at her brother, rather keeping her eyes on Harry as he moved onto another vehicle in hopes of finding more fuel.

“I was a wreck. I couldn’t eat or sleep. My mind kept on running through the logistics of having a baby in a world where there wasn’t formula.” Bill’s hand came to Ginny’s chin and forced her to look at him. “But Fleur pulled my head out of my arse and made me talk to her about everything going on in my head. She was afraid too, but talking about it helped us start to understand our reality.”

Ginny sighed, pushing Bill’s hand away. She couldn’t look at him. It was easier to stare at her shoes. “I get what you’re saying, but --”

“But nothing!” His tone was so sharp it made Ginny look up. This is your reality now, Ginny. You need to think about you and your baby.”

Your baby.

Ginny’s stomach fluttered at the words. Her baby. Hers and Harry’s baby. She had thought about it over the years, of course. The idea of having a baby with Harry was natural. She had grown up in a large family and had always liked kids, so why wouldn’t she want one of her own? If it hadn’t been for that little plague she and Harry would probably be married with a couple of kids at this point.

But Ginny never considered bringing a baby into this fucked up world. She and Harry had even discussed it years ago.

Both she and Harry had agreed that they never wanted to let a child of theirs possibly suffer and in the current climate… No, they hadn't wanted to risk it. And yet, here she was.

They tried their best to be safe, but when Ginny reflected on the past few months there had been times when in the heat of the moment...

Fuck.

Harry came back, his arm lowered to the ground as he carried the now-full petrol can. "I think this should be enough for a bit."

Bill nodded. "Great, I'll get Vic. Why don't you two head inside? It's on the first floor. There are signs everywhere." He gave Ginny a pointed look as he moved off to where Victoire sat playing with a doll he found her.

Ginny looked at Harry. His eyes were downcast as he gestured at the door. "You ready?"

She took a deep breath. "Wait a second, Harry."

He stopped midstep, petrol in the can sloshing around. Harry looked around at her, his gaze holding something she couldn't quite place. "Yeah?"

"Harry." A hand unconsciously came up and ran through her hair, "Are --"

She didn't know what to say. This wasn't a situation she’d ever imagined herself being in. Pregnant in an apocalypse, with an emotionally distant baby-daddy, and (to top it all off) her emotions had a mind of their own. Just the other day she’d cried over Vic’s broken toy and ended up being comforted by her little niece.

Ginny swallowed before trying again. “Are we okay? I know this isn’t quite what we -- planned.”

Harry licked his lips, his eyes flickering between hers and her stomach. His silence created more butterflies in her gut. Finally, he put the can down and moved in close, his arms banding around her waist. “You and I are always okay, Gin.” His lips pressed to her temple. “I - it’s just a lot.”

“I know.” Ginny’s body relaxed under his touch. Her head came to rest on his chest, his heartbeat sounds in her ears. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been.“It’s a lot for me too.”

Neither of them moved for a moment. Ginny didn’t realize how desperately she had needed this. This wasn’t like the automatic embraces they had shared over the last month. It didn’t feel forced and awkward. This was them. A real embrace.

Harry let out a deep breath through his nose, ruffling her hair. “We best get going.” He pulled back, hesitated for a moment before kissing her lightly. “I love you.”

The fist that had been locked around Ginny’s heart seemed to lessen. She cradled his face in both her hands, bringing their lips back together. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or heat, but one of understanding. “I love you too.”

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Harry watched in amazement as Bill worked the complex equipment. At first he’d forgotten that Bill had done this exact thing years previously with his wife. The ultrasound machine felt like a rocket ship to Harry, yet Bill moved smoothly around the device.

Ginny rested on the recently dusted old hospital cot, her eyes following every move Bill made. Harry still couldn't believe they were sitting in a room running a generator in order to verify if Ginny was pregnant.

Pregnant.

The word still sounded foreign to him even after repeating it in his head for a month. Ginny, his best friend, and lover was pregnant with his child. He couldn’t believe it. They’d always used condoms. He even carried one in his pocket in case things got heated outside of their bedroom (which it seemed to quite frequently). But then there had been a few times where he hadn’t had a chance to restock his emergency protection and things had already escalated… No, in hindsight, it wasn’t such a shock that Ginny was potentially pregnant.

“So now I need to use this gel stuff on your stomach.” Bill held up a bottle with a clear substance. “Lift your shirt up, Ginny, please.”

Ginny took a deep breath as she did what she was told. She shivered as the gel touched her bare skin. “Fuck that’s cold.”

Victoire looked up from her chair, the doll she had been rocking back and forth freezing. “Aunt Ginny, you said a bad word!”

Ginny had the grace to look abashed. “I know. I’m sorry, Vic. I’ll watch my language.”

Bill laughed. “All right, now that we’ve had our grammar discussion, how about we have our health lesson.” He pulled the wand from its holder and pressed it lightly into Ginny’s stomach.

Harry watched the screen, not truly understanding what he was looking at. To him, it was just a black and white screen, but Bill nodded thoughtfully.

“So right here.” Bill pointed to a large air pocket. “That is your baby.”

Ginny’s breath hitched. Harry squinted at the screen. It took him a moment to find what Bill was pointing at. In the air pocket was a small bean-like figure.

That bean-like thing was his child. Harry felt his heart start to race as he lowered himself into the chair beside Ginny's bed. His child. His baby to protect from the world. Harry's lungs strained to get air. Should he be able to feel every atom in his body?

Ginny's hand reached out and gripped his, squeezing hard. Harry turned to look at her. Her brown eyes bore into his. She was trying to comfort him. Shouldn't it be him comforting her?

Harry forced his breathing to slow down. He could feel his heart rate slowing as he focused on Ginny. She was his rock, and she was what he needed to concentrate on.

Without taking her eyes off of Harry, Ginny directed her words at Bill. "Can you figure out how far along we are."

We are.

Harry tried to ignore the goose pimples that started shooting down his neck and back. The phrasing wasn't lost on him. They were in this together. For some reason at her words, his lungs didn't feel as if there was a lead pipe stabbed through them. His whole body felt more relaxed.

Bill looked between a medical textbook and the monitor. He flipped back and forth between a few pages. " To show up this well… I’d say you have to be at least twelve weeks.”

"Okay, and does everything look..." Ginny licked her lips as she paused. "Look right?"

"Based on what I'm seeing in the book." Bill looked up from the textbook and smiled. "I'd say everything is in order."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand again. Her breath came out in a slow exhale. "Good."

When Ginny had told him she thought she may be pregnant, Harry's head jumped to millions of bad possibilities. Miscarriage, stillbirth, a problem for Ginny during birth. Not once had his imagination focused on just the baby. As he looked at the screen his subconscious started playing with different scenarios, but instead of the world on fire variety, Harry imagined holding his child. His black hair, Ginny's brown eyes, freckles sprinkled across a tiny nose.

Harry's chest constricted again, but this time he knew it wasn't a panic attack. This was what it was like to love someone so much it hurts. It was the same feeling he felt whenever Ginny was in danger. Like he couldn't live if something were to happen.

"Harry?"

He tore his eyes off the screen to look at Ginny. Her brow was creased in concern as she spoke again. "Are you okay?"

He swallowed hard. Was he okay? That was a loaded question at the moment. Harry couldn't find the words to tell her how much she meant to him. How much this all meant to him. So instead he nodded and squeezed her hand, hoping it expressed a minute amount of what he was feeling.

Bill started pressing some buttons on the machine. “Give me a second and we can hear the heartbeat.

Ginny turned her attention to her brother. "Really?"

"Yeah, just give me a moment." Bill flipped a switch on the machine before placing the wand back onto Ginny's still bare stomach. He moved it around for a moment until Harry heard it. Harry's heart seemed to stutter as he listened. It was like a stampede of wildebeest, wild and fast, but steady and alive. Oh, so alive.

If Harry thought he was in love by just the sight...

Ginny's breath came out in shaky puffs. Harry brought his free hand up to her cheek, turning her face towards him. Her eyes were bright, but the smile on her lips was one of joy. He bent forward and pressed his lips to hers. When he broke away, Harry leaned his forehead against hers.

Bill's voice seemed to come from a distance; all of Harry's senses were hyper focused on Ginny. "I'm going to see if I can't find some supplies around here. Come on, Vic."

Harry barely heard their retreating footsteps. Ginny let out a long sigh. "Harry, I --" Her voice choked as she blinked rapidly. "I never realized --" The words just couldn't seem to come out.

Harry didn't need her to speak. He understood just what she meant.

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Ginny spit the rest of the toothpaste out before wiping her mouth. She had been sick every morning around the same time for the last two weeks. The only saving grace to being ill at the same time was being able to find a private place to vomit.

Well, there was another saving grace -- and that was Harry. After their visit to the hospital, Harry had become an ever-attentive, doting boyfriend. He was there holding her hair back every time she vomited, getting her snacks the moment her stomach rumbled, and he fawned over her baby bump.

The baby bump.

That was still weird to her. Every time she looked down she could see physical proof of their baby. And every time she looked down, twin jolts of fear and excitement coursed through her.

She never expected to feel this way. In her mind, the door for babies had been closed when the city of London created walls to "protect" the citizens from Morsmordre. That had been the end to normality. There was no more worrying about studies, shopping, or even going out with friends. So the idea of having a baby... Ginny never imagined it.

But now, she couldn't fathom not having a baby. This baby. She already loved him or her more than she thought possible, and she knew Harry felt the same way from the way he spoke to the bump. Not to mention the way he was with her. Every time he looked at her, his affection was almost palpable.

"Gin?" Harry's arms wrapped around her body, his hands coming to rest on the bump. His breath tickled her skin. "Do you need anything?"

She leaned back, loving the feeling of his warmth. "No, I'm fine now."

His thumbs started to move in small circles across her stomach. "Okay, well if anything changes, let me know."

Ginny spun in his arms, her hands running up the sides of his neck and into his hair. "I have everything I need right here."

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“Ready or not, here I come!” Victoire’s high-pitched girlish giggle bounced off the trees as she ran into the woods. She was the seeker this time in their little game of hide and seek, and Harry was determined to remain hidden the longest. From his position in the low hanging tree branch, Vic would have to look up in order to find him

He glanced up at the sky. Through the forest canopy, he could see the darkening clouds. A storm was coming, and based on the sky, it was a doozy. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to try and stay out long.

Harry could see Ginny from his post. She was sitting on the ground with her back against a large rock. Her jumper covered her growing belly. Every time he looked at her, Harry was amazed at how her body had changed. He'd always thought the saying that a pregnant woman glowed was ludicrous. No one actually glowed, but Ginny did. She looked radiant.

Footsteps. Harry tore his eyes away from Ginny to look down at little Vic. Her little head moved like a bobblehead when placed on the dashboard of a car and taken on a bumpy back road. She looked every which way, not truly taking in her surroundings.

Rain started to fall down in little spurts, landing on his nose and cheeks. A clap of thunder sounded off in the distance. Fuck, that was closer than Harry had expected. Things changed instantaneously. The sprinkle changed into fat raindrops and then was a downpour.

Okay, game time was over. Harry hopped down from his branch, landing on the balls of his feet. Vic, who had stopped in order to look up at the dark sky turned her attention to him.

"Hey, Vic you found me!" Harry yelled it over the sound of rain smacking the tops of the trees. The wind had picked up and was blowing dead leaves every which way. "Let's go find the others."

Ginny popped out from her spot. "Ah, I've been found!" She walked over to them. "Come on, Vic I bet I know where your dad is."

Victoire followed her aunt, her eyes flicking up towards upwards at every loud clap of thunder. Bill was right where Ginny had expected, coming for them. His footsteps were hurried as he approached.

Again everything seemed to happen instantaneously. Harry saw white out of the corner of his eye. When he turned towards the motion, the thunder boomed above him at the same moment a large tree came tumbling down. Harry only had a second to react. Victoire was standing right where the log would land. He pulled the little girl towards him while stepping backward.

The tree landed hard on the ground with a terrifying smack. Victoire started crying, clutching at Harry. He picked her up and held her close to his chest. He tried to look over enormous tree trunk, but it was too tall. Where had Bill been standing? What about Ginny?

"Ginny!" Harry's voice cracked. He cleared his throat before trying again. "Ginny!"

"Harry!" Ginny yelled from her side of the barricade. "I'm fine. We're fine. Do you have Vic?"

"Yeah." Harry rubbed the little girl's back. "I have her. I'm gonna get her back to the house."

"See you there."

Harry turned to his left and started to jog down the path Ginny normally took when she was hunting in hide and seek. It was the most direct path to the cottage. It only took him a few minutes to reach the safety of their home, even with Vic in his arms.

He walked through the back door and gently disentangled Victoire from his neck, placing her on the countertop. Tear tracks had mixed with the dampness of the rain on her cheeks.

"Vic, I need you to be super good and stay right here. I need to go find your dad and Aunt Ginny." Harry kissed her forehead before turning towards the door.

He could hear Victoire sobbing behind him, but at that moment it was more vital to find the others than comfort the little girl. There was no way in hell he wanted to comfort Vic if something were to happen to her dad or aunt.

Right as he was about to barrel through the back door, Bill charged in. His long hair plastered to his face. "Vic!" Bill ran to his daughter, hauling her into his arms. Victoire started crying harder. "It's all right, love."

Harry's heart sank into his stomach. There was Bill, but where was... "Bill, where's Ginny?"

Bill took a second to tear his attention from his daughter. He looked over at Harry, his eyes unfocused. "Huh? She was right behind me."

Breathe. Harry's brain repeated the word over and over until his body followed the command. His feet moved to the exit, no thoughts running through his mind than to find Ginny and breathe.

He stopped dead on the porch. Ginny was standing by the railing, her eyes to the sky.

Breathe. Harry's body shook slightly as he approached her. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his body as close to hers as possible. "Jesus, Ginny." His voice sounded as if he's swallowed a jar of sand.

Ginny turned in his arms, her back now pressed to the railing. Her stomach creating more space between them than he wanted. "Harry?"

"I --" He choked. Rather than try and speak again he pressed his nose into her neck, inhaling the scent that was so Ginny. If he hadn't ever smelt it again...

She rubbed his back, holding him close. "It's all right, love. I'm fine. We're fine."

Harry swallowed hard, letting the words sink in. They were fine. She and the baby were fine. Rather than step back, Harry indulged himself for a few more moments. While the storm raged, Harry held his family close.

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Harry set the plate and a canteen of water the nightside table as he pulled back the blankets. Ginny was still taking her turn in the makeshift shower Bill had created. If there wasn't an actual concern about wasting water, Harry would have been right there with her. But instead, he figured getting their bed ready was better than nothing.

In Harry's opinion, Ginny deserved everything and then the moon. She was going through a pregnancy without any medical care and doing it with so much poise. No matter how many times she was sick, how her feet swelled, or copious amounts of heartburn she faced, Ginny never complained.

"Hey, Harry?" Ginny called him from the hall. She entered the bedroom, her stomach now the first part of her to enter any room. Harry moved over to her. He wanted to place his hand on the small of her back, but he resisted. Ginny had already told him off for being over helpful. In her words, she could, "walk across a flat surface without help, thank you very much."

Ginny smiled at him as he stopped in front of her. "Was there any more of that chicken from dinner?"

Harry pressed a quick kiss to her the corner of her mouth. "Yes, I placed it on your bedside table."

"Really?" Ginny's brow creased. She peered around him to confirm his claim. "How did you know I was going to ask?"

"Call it a father's intuition." Harry walked beside her as Ginny took a seat on the edge of the mattress.

She pulled the plate into her lap before turning to Harry. "Impressive work, dear."

Harry shrugged, "I know my --" He paused, unsure of the right word. Girlfriend sounded stupid after everything they'd been through. Lover was accurate but also still wasn't all she was to him. And they weren't married so...

He licked his lips. Ginny hadn't seemed to notice his hesitation. Her focus had dropped to the chicken leg on her plate. Even while devouring food like a starving wolf, Ginny was still the most beautiful woman to Harry. It still amazed him that she was with him, that she was having his child.

"Gin?" at Harry's voice Ginny tore her eyes from her plate.

She licked the remaining juices off her lips,another action Harry found too perfect. "Yeah?"

"Would you marry me?"

Her brow creased as she absorbed his question. "What?" She put her plate aside. "Marry you?"

Harry nodded. He pulled her now empty hand into his and brought it up to his lips. "Everything has only been making sense because of you. Without you--" He cleared his throat, hoping to finish his explanation before losing his nerve completely. "You and the baby mean everything to me. I know it sounds foolish when there are no more churches or government, but I want to call you my wife."

Ginny's gaze was soft. "You and I... Harry we're it." She adjusted herself so she was facing him. Her stomach creating the only space between them. Her free hand coming up to cup his jaw. "You could call me your wife, lover, best friend... because they're all true." She leaned up and kissed him. A slow, meaningful, kiss that promised more. "In my mind, we've been married for years. I mean, I wouldn't get knocked up by just anyone."

She was right, of course, and Harry loved her even more for it. They didn't need anyone or anything to say how they felt for each other. Fuck, the baby growing inside Ginny right at that moment was evidence enough of their feelings for each other.

He brought his forehead to hers, the feeling of her breath warming his skin. "Gin, you're the best part of me. You and this baby."

Ginny gave him another lingering kiss. "Shouldn't I be the overly hormonal one, love?"

Harry chuckled. "I figured I'd take a turn. Can't let you have all the fun, right?"

Ginny pulled back, her lips turned up in a mischievous smile. "Speaking of fun..." She trailed her finger up his jaw. "I could use some of your special pleasure."

"Oh yeah?" Harry's body instantly responded to her words. As he got ready to crawl over her, Ginny slid back so she was resting her back against the headboard.

Her feet came up from the floor and wiggled in his face. "A foot rub for your lover sounds so satisfying, doesn't it?"

Harry knew his face must have the sappiest, lovesick smile, but fuck, he was so in love with her. "Sounds enchanting, my love."

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Ginny closed her eyes. She was always tired, it seemed. Every day she needed a nap just to make it to bedtime.

No one seemed to mind her lethargy. Quite the contrary, Harry loved curling up beside her, whether it be to sleep or read a novel. Victoire (who was too old for naps) would play with her doll beside Ginny. Yet somehow, it was always time for the doll's nap, and Victoire would end up sleeping with the baby.

But today's nap was not happening. Harry's spawn (she refused to call it her baby when it was acting out) was having a penalty shot challenge using her bladder as the ball. No matter what position Ginny lay in, the baby would move so much that she couldn’t even come close to sleep. So rather than a soothing hour of shut-eye, Ginny had lain awake craving sleep more than anything else.

"Gin?" Harry's quiet voice broke through the silence of the room as if he had a bullhorn.

Ginny grunted. Words were too much of a challenge for her at that moment. They took too much effort. Harry didn’t speak again. Instead, she could hear his footsteps on the old wooden floor. She felt his body weigh down the mattress.

Harry's body spooned into her back as his arm banded over her hip. His hand came to rest on her stomach.

"Can't sleep?" His tone was remnant of his goodnights to Victoire, a lullaby to her tired mind. His fingers started rubbing smooth circles on the center of her extended stomach.

It was as if Harry's actions and voice called time out. The baby that had once been bouncing in its home stopped entirely.

"I don't know what magical powers you possess, but keep it up." Ginny closed her eyes, loving every second of the peace.

Harry let out a low chuckle, his fingers continuing their motion. "I can start saying some spells if it would help."

"I'm willing to give anything a try. After your spawn --"

"Our spawn," Harry interrupted, his nose nuzzling into the back of her neck.

Ginny ignored his correction, but smiled all the same. "Kept me up all last night, and now won't let me have my daily nap."

"And you think me talking will calm the baby down?"

"Just pretend to be telling a bedtime story." Ginny scooted further into his warmth. "Tell me a story about you and Ron."

"Me and Ron?" Harry let out a little sigh, his breath keeping her neck warm. "Okay -- er -- have I ever told you about the time we were stuck in the girl's locker room in secondary?"

"What?" Ginny rose slightly, turning her head to look at him. "No! And now I'm upset I've never heard it before."

Harry kissed the tip of her nose. "Lay back down, close your eyes, and I'll tell you and the baby all about it."

She did as he said. Ginny had always felt safe in his arms, but mix that with Harry's soothing tone and gentle caresses, she was out like an old electric light.

Ginny woke to loud voices downstairs. She opened her eyes, feeling groggy. Harry had left , more than likely to deal with the commotion. After picking up her dressing gown from the end of the bed, Ginny hurried out of the room-- well waddled, at this rate.

Once she reached the last step, Ginny was thrown for a loop. She had expected to see Bill and Harry fighting some grisly group of gangsters. But instead, she walked in on Bill hugging a tall man while Harry sat on the arm of the couch, his brow furrowed.

"I can't believe you're here!" Bill broke free of the stranger, slapping him hard on the back.

The visitor beamed at Bill. "I can't believe you're here." Bells started ringing in Ginny's head. She knew that voice... but why? "I never would have guessed. I just saw the cottage and thought it would be nice to see someone, but I never guessed it would be you, Billy."

"Billy?" Ginny spoke without thinking. Everyone turned to look at her. Harry's expression shifted from confusion to delight.

Harry moved over to her, his coming around her waist. He kissed her temple. "You didn't get much sleep."

Ginny rolled her eyes affectionately. As much as she hated mother-hen Harry, she loved it. "I needed to come and see who Billy was chatting with."

Bill chuckled. "Ginny, this is my old mate, Phil."

Phil's pearly white teeth reminded Ginny of a shark. "Last time I saw you, Ginny, you were a wee little thing."

"Oh, we've met before?"

"Yeah, I came 'round your parents a few times over the years. I even had a tea party with you."

Ginny couldn't figure out why Phil's smile sent shivers down her spine. It wasn't forced, more like he was a kid alone in a candy shop and he planned to rob the place.

Phil had turned his attention back to Bill, who was offering him a drink in the kitchen. Ginny looked up at Harry. His brow was furrowed as he watched Phil retreat into the kitchen. "You don't trust him either, do you, Harry?"

Harry's hand on her waist squeezed a little tighter than necessary. "Not one bit."

#hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fic #Hinny Doom Days #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny

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odderancyart · 5 years

Text

I told Kyuko I wanted to write something for International Women’s Day and she said “Lesbians” so here’s Edwardian Lesbian Edgeberry Coffee Shop AU (and how complicated that AU title is bring me joy)

The rain smattered against the windows of the small café as they hurried inside, letting out relieved sighs. Fell straightened, brushing waterdrops off her black jacket as she glanced at her companion. Razz grinned at her, drying off the Votes for Women-pin on her chest. Under her jacket, Fell wore a garnet-red dress: both she and her brother wore red a lot, it made a marvellous contrast to their brown skin and raven black hair. Hair that was pinned into an elegant bun beneath her huge black hat decorated with red flowers.

Together, they stepped inside the warm café, which smelled deliciously of sugar and fresh bread, before taking one of the circular tables closest to the counter, with a white tablecloth over it. Razz wore a light pink dress and a had a white hat with pink roses on her blonde head. Her eyes glimmered as she placed a hand on the table, drumming her fingers against the surface.

“Quite a successful protest, don’t you think?” she asked, sounding pleased.

Nodding, Fell wiped her hands off at one of the cloth napkins at the table. “At least no one got arrested this time. I do believe my dearest brother is getting tired of bailing us out. We’ve cost him quite the fortune.”

Razz snorted, her hand trailing down to her stomach. “That’s what he gets for marrying me. He knew what he was getting into even before he proposed, so he’s got no one to blame but himself.” Her smile softened. “But I do suppose I’ll have to calm down eventually. For a while.”

Once the pregnancy started to show, started to restrict her. Fell smiled, even as she grimaced on the inside. She pitied Red who would have to deal with Razz once the pregnancy turned into a hindrance, and the mood-swings set in. But again, she thought fondly, he’d probably threaten to disown me if I voiced that. He loves her and the child far too much to ever see it as a burden. And she could certainly not afford to get disowned: since she had no plans on marrying, she’d likely be financially dependent on her brother for many years yet. It was difficult, being a happily unwed upper-class woman. The opportunities to find work were few.

“Good evening,” a polite, light voice came from behind. “Can I take your order?”

A woman in a blue blouse, black skirt, and a white apron stepped up to them, smiling. Fell froze in her tracks as her gaze flickered up to meet the waitress’ bright blue eyes. The light from the lamps danced in them, causing them to shimmer like ice. A striking contrast to her mocha skin. And her hair, black as midnight, was in a neat bun just above her neck, but a few coils of curly hair had escaped, framing her face. Fell gaped. Then Razz snickered, reminding her of where she was, and her mouth snapped close and she straightened her back.

Her eyes flickered down to the menu on the table for a second before going back to the woman’s face: full lips, a wide nose, thick black eyelashes. Holy hell she was beautiful. “Black currant tea, please,” she managed to choke out, pursing her lips as Razz giggled loudly.

The waitress smiled, nodding as she scratched that down in a black leather notebook. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned to Razz.

Smiling slyly, Razz pointed at an item on the menu. “A cup of peppermint tea, please. What’s your name, miss?”

She blinked, surprised at the question, before smiling, brighter than before. Fell’s heart made a somersault. “Blue, ma’am. Blue Debois.”

“Well, Miss Debois-” Razz pointedly ignored the panicked gaze Fell sent her. She knew exactly what Razz was planning and it was a dumb idea fucking hell “-I quite feel I need to sit in silence for a while – I’m pregnant, you see – so maybe you could hold my companion company for a while? Since the café is empty other than us. I’d feel terribly guilty if she had to be alone.”

Tilting her head, Miss Debois regarded Fell for a moment, and she could feel a drop of sweat slide down her neck as she smiled back, folding her gloved hands in her lap. Oh God have mercy on her. They were never a family gifted at emotions, she, her brother and their parents, and in all honesty it was a miracle Red had managed to marry someone like Razz. And Red was the family’s social butterfly. She wanted desperately to glare at Razz, but she also didn’t want Miss Debois to get the wrong impression.

“I’d love to.”

Razz smiled politely at her as she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. “I’m very grateful. But we’d like our tea first.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Curtsying quickly, she left the room for the kitchen.

Correcting the position of her hat, Razz ignored the furious glares Fell sent her. “What are you doing? I don’t know how to talk to girls. And she’s working.”

“Figure it out.” Razz turned her back to her, throwing a smug look over her shoulder. “That’s what you told me when I was first starting to see your brother. And we’ve got all day, dear sister. We can stay here until her shift ends.” Then she was gone, gliding over to the other side of the café where she settled into an aubergine couch in the darkest corner. Fell was going to kill her when they left. Or in a couple months, she supposed it’d be cruel to kill her brother’s unborn child as well as his wife. But kill her she would.

Soon, Miss Debois returned to the café, putting down a teacup in front of Razz before placing a white porcelain cup with a red rose painted on it in front of Fell. The purple tea inside steamed.

“Thank you.” Fell delicately picked up the cup, putting it to her lips and sipping. It burned on her tongue, which helped ground her and her fluttering stomach. She glanced toward Razz. “I apologize if you’re busy, miss. You don’t have to sit here.”

Letting out a giggle, Miss Debois shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. I’m quite pleased.” Her eyes glittered, though a stroke of anxiety flashed over her face before she added, “It’s not every day such a beautiful lady comes in here, after all.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks. Ducking her head, Fell suddenly wished that wearing her hair loose would’ve been socially acceptable, so it could’ve fallen to hide her face. In her embarrassment, she saw her late father’s disapproving face flash before her inner eye. We’re Blanchets. Act like it. Taking a deep breath, she smiled, holding out her hand over the table for Miss Debois to shake.

“How rude of me,” she said. “I’m Mademoiselle Fell Blanchet. The lady who just left us is my sister-in-law, Madame Razz Blanchet. And-” She hesitated. “You’re very lovely yourself.”

Miss Debois straightened, delight shining in her eyes as she blushed faintly. “You’re French?”

“Oui. We moved here from Paris when my twin brother and I were thirteen. And you, miss? I noticed you have a French surname.”

She nodded, and when she spoke, it was in French. “From Semur-en-Auxois in Burgundy, ma’am. My father remarried and we moved here when I was a child, but I’ve always wanted to go back and visit. Oh,” she said, pausing. Her smile shone like the sun in Fell’s eyes. “Call me Blue, ma’am.”

Very much pretending like she didn’t want to scream, Fell nodded, returning her smile. “I’m flattered. Then you may call me Fell.”

The other’s eyebrows raised so high they looked like they might fall off her face, which made Fell laugh. Her surprise was evident, which was understandable. After all, she was a waitress, and Fell was quite rich – on her brother’s, admittedly great, graces. Stars, she did need to find herself an appropriate job, but it was difficult, and doubly so with her having been arrested multiple times for being in the suffragette riots.

Blue’s eyes flickered down to the button on her jacket. “You’re a suffragette?”

“I am.” She pursed her lips, for a moment anxious as she waited for Blue’s response. Not everyone supported their cause, even if they were women.

She looked pleased. “Maybe… Maybe you’d like to accompany me to a protest someday, ma’- Fell?”

Eyes widening, Fell nodded dumbly. She shook herself to clear her head before nodding again, her cheeks straining from the force of her smile. “I’d love that.”

…

Stirring her teacup, Razz watched the two speak. Fantastic. She couldn’t wait until she came home and could tell her husband that he likely wouldn’t need to worry about his sister being lonely anymore, thanks to yours truly. Red would be delighted that Fell had found a potential lover, in the most innocent sense of that word. Though of course, if they did start seeing each other for real, it probably wouldn’t stay all that innocent for too long. Being completely uninterested in men, Fell had never made any pretences to care about doing the Biblical thing of waiting until marriage, since she wouldn’t ever wed.

She sipped at her tea, smiling to herself. Matchmaking had never been her thing, and in fact she had found her girlhood friends’ interest in it quite ridiculous. But there certainly was something satisfying in watching Fell and Miss Dubois chat. They were both smiling much too brightly for it to be mere polite conversation – especially with the occasional blushing.

Razz chuckled, placing a hand on her growing stomach. If things went well, maybe there’d be two aunts waiting for the little one once they were ready to greet their family. When she looked at the joy on Fell’s face, she knew she’d do what she could to ensure they would.

Plus, she thought, smirking, I get the entertainment of watching the normally so confident Fell fumble for words. How lovely.

#edgeberry #blackcherry #underfell #underswap #swapfell #uf papyrus #sf sans #us sans #human versions #suffragette au #my writing #coffee shop au #edwardian #historical au

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years

Text

TRR New Beginnings ch.23-A Gathering of Friends

Hey Everyone! So this series will be coming to end soon, there will likely only be 2-3 more chapters. We'll see. It has been so awesome writing this fic, and that's because you guys made it happen!

Drake x MC (Emma)

Words: 1788

Drake and Emma have gathered everyone together to share their news. But what topic does the conversation turn to?

Drake and Emma kept to themselves for the next few weeks, until finally, Emma entered her second trimester. The nausea still hadn’t subsided, but Drake made sure to keep items around that she could eat and drink without getting sick. Usually. Sometimes it just happened. But besides that, they were mostly blissfully happy, and were ready to start telling their friends about their pregnancy. So, tonight, Liam, Olivia, Maxwell, Savannah, and Bertrand were all having dinner at the Valtorian Estate. Emma had never been, even though it was her duchy.

“So, what do you think, Lady Emma? It’s a nice estate, is it not?” Liam asked.

“It is.” She agreed. “It’s very grand.”

“You will be a fabulous Duchess, Emma. And whatever you don’t know I’ll help with.” Olivia jumped in.

Emma gave her a smile. “I’m sure you will, Olivia. Thank you.”

“Maxwell, what are planning to do once Emma takes over?” Olivia asked.

“No idea!” Maxwell exclaimed. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t even thought about it.”

The servants started bringing out the drinks, and everyone except Olivia and Emma took the alcohol. Olivia eyed Emma but didn’t say anything.

“Emma, it’s so wonderful having you back in Cordonia. It wasn’t the same without you, and I’d never seen my brother in worse shape than when you were gone.” Savannah said. “So, thank you for coming back. I, for one, am grateful. So, I’d like to propose a toast. To our Emma, and to the healing she brought to our family.”

“To Emma!” Everyone chimed in, clinking their glasses.

“I would also like to propose a toast.” Drake said. “To Liam. For realizing how much I needed her and convincing her to come back here and stay with me. Thank you. You’re the best friend a guy could have.” He rose his glass and the others followed suit, before Olivia scoffed.

“Well. I’m proposing a toast to myself, then. For my genius ideas that I cunningly convinced Liam were his own.” She smirked, then downed the rest of her water.

Emma grinned. “Yes. To Olivia. Because every great man has an even greater woman standing beside him.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Fine. Cheers, Olivia.”

Liam chuckled and pulled Olivia into a kiss. “Truer words have never been spoken, my Queen.”

“So, Emma, back to business. When will you resume the duties of the duchy?” Bertrand asked.

“Oh, Bertrand. Always so business-like.” Savannah told him.

“She’s been back long enough, it’s time she steps in.” Bertrand returned. “I’m sure Maxwell can find something else to do with his time. Perhaps being our nanny?”

“I’m not going to be your nanny!” Maxwell scowled. The two brothers immediately started arguing about what Maxwell should and should not do when Emma finally cried out

“ENOUGH!!”

The table fell silent and all eyes turned to her. “Honestly, do you two ever stop arguing?” She asked.

“Not really” Drake told her. “That has definitely not changed a bit.”

Emma looked around the table and took a deep breath. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” She said.

Drake looked at her in surprise. They had never talked about it, not once. If he was honest with himself, he tried to avoid the conversation. She’s nobility, and when they marry he’ll become a duke. He knows nothing of being a duke, and the very idea makes his stomach churn. To be stuck in that world…he almost couldn’t think of anything worse. The only thing worse would be not having Emma at all. And for her, he was prepared to do anything. Move anywhere, take any title, any job to make her happy. He just wanted her, and he’d come to terms with everything that brought with it. Still, he hadn’t spoken to her about it, and he had hoped to before she stood up on her own.

“Liam.” Emma continued. “I’m very grateful for the gift you bestowed upon me a year and a half ago. It was very kind of you to give me the duchy of Valtoria. It is absolutely beautiful, and I’m proud to call it my home.”

“Of course, Lady Emma. You will lead with grace, I have no doubt.” Liam told her with a smile.

Emma nodded, but didn’t return his smile. She slid her eyes over to Drake, who squeezed her hand in encouragement. She gave him a soft smile before turning back to the group.

“I want you to know that I did not come to this decision lightly, and it’s been on my mind for a while now. That being said…I’m renouncing the title of Duchess and I think Maxwell would make a wonderful continuing leader.”

All eyes looked at her in shock as she excused herself from the table and hurried out of the room. Suddenly, she was quite nauseous again.

“Drake, what did you say to her to make her do that?” Olivia snapped.

“Nothing! I’m just as confused as you are!” He exclaimed.

“I do find it odd.” Liam agreed. “She knew that in coming back she would need to accept her title. She’s not an actually a citizen of Cordonia.”

“What are you saying?” Drake asked.

“I’m saying if she doesn’t take over Valtoria, I won’t be able to keep her here. You know the law, Drake.”

“My mother was an American!” He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, and she was married to your father, a native Cordonian. Look, Drake, I don’t like it either.” Liam said sadly.

“This is unbelievable. You’re King. You make the laws now.” Drake said angrily. “Tonight, we were going to tell all of you that she’s pregnant. But I guess that doesn’t matter because she’s not noble enough for you.” Drake stood from the table and ran after Emma.

“Rose!” He called out into the hallway.

“In here, Drake.” Her voice rang out from another room. He followed the sound until he caught sight of her.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” She greeted him warmly, and his heart fluttered.

He walked over and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply before embracing her fully. “What happened in there, Rose? Why did you do that without talking to me?” He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.

She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands. “I love you. And I love our baby. And I don’t want him or her to grow up in that life. It destroyed us. It’s destroyed others. It killed your father. I don’t want that. And I know you don’t either. It’s not who you are, and that is so much of why I love you the way I do.”

“But Rose, you don’t understand, you’re not a Cordonian citizen. If you don’t accept the duchy, you’ll be forced to leave the country.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.” She smirked.

Drake’s brows furrowed as Emma walked over to a book that was laid out on a chair. “I had Maxwell take a look into citizen’s law. While it’s true that if I reject the duchy, then I automatically reject citizenship. However, there’s several clauses about how to get around it. Your father worked with Constantine to amend the law when your mother was pregnant with you.

“Wh-what?” He asked, completely dumbfounded.

She grinned. “Look.” She pointed at the book and started reading.

Amendment 17.a-If a non-citizen marries someone of Cordonian heritage, they are immediately granted full citizenship and all the rights that entails.

Amendment 17.b-If a female non-citizen becomes impregnated by someone of Cordonian heritage, the fetus is by all rights a full Cordonian citizen, and both the unborn child and mother of said child, are granted immediate full citizenship and all the rights that entails.

She stopped reading and took Drake’s hands. “This is it, Drake. This is how we stay in Cordonia. I’ve been dreading this day so much, when I’d have to either take over Valtoria or leave you again. I would have chosen you, of course. But you wouldn’t have been happy, and your family needs you happy. I want to give you this, give us this. Our cabin is our home. I want it stay that way.”

Drake was still staring at her, tears starting to glisten in his eyes.

“Rose…you don’t have to give this up for me.” He whispered.

“I’m not. I never really had it. A year and a half ago, sure, I would have jumped all over the opportunity. But now? I don’t want that anymore. Not one bit. I just want you.”

Drake laughed happily and dipped her into a passionate kiss. “Anything my Queen wants.” He waggled his eyebrows and she swatted him playfully.

“We should probably go tell them I’m pregnant now, huh?”

“Uh…actually, about that…” Drake trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I may have accidentally yelled it out at the table when Liam was saying you’d have to leave.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It just came out! I didn’t know what you were doing!”

“You’re not that good with surprises, are you?” she asked.

“I prefer giving them to you, not the other way around. Though this is an amazing surprise, and I should have kept my mouth shut instead of getting caught in the heat of the moment. He admitted sheepishly.

“Well…you do have a tendency to do that.” She chuckled. “So, I guess we better go in and formally announce it? And bask in the glory of my being a Cordonian citizen?”

Drake nodded. “Yes, that’s probably best.” He took her hand and led her back to the dining room, where they were greeted with happy cheers of congratulations. As he watched her hug everyone, Liam came over to him.

“I didn’t know, Drake. I’m sorry.”

Drake smiled at him. “I’m sorry, too. I had no idea what she was planning or what information she had found. Or rather, had Maxwell find for her.”

“Maxwell’s a true friend.” Liam agreed. “I’m really happy for you Drake. And, now, Olivia finally has someone to commiserate with about pregnancy pains.” The two men burst out laughing at the truth of that statement.

“Do you think our kids will be friends?” Drake asked him

“The best of” Liam replied.

“There’s just one more thing I need to do.” Drake said

“What’s that?” Liam asked.

“Sorry, but it’s my turn to surprise her. You’ll find out soon enough. Everyone will.” Drake smiled and went over to Emma, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I’m not sure how I got so lucky. Or so happy.” He murmured in her ear.

She turned her head and gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, you can thank me later.”

Drake scraped his teeth gently against her neck. “I intend to.”

@blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @imaketerriblechoices @zigortega4life

@innerpostmentality @mrsernestsinclaire @nekkidmolerat @wannabemc2 @blubutterflyy @sweetest-marbear @choicesmacmakes @andy-loves-corgis @sstee1 @furiousherringoperatortoad @traeumerinwitzhelden @speedyoperarascalparty

@notoriouscs

#the royal romance fanfic #drake walker fanfic #new beginnings #the royal romance #playchoices #trr fanfic #drake x emma #drake x mc #drake walker #trr drake #choices fanfic

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prettieparker86 · 6 years

Photo

We All Have A Hunger

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Dysfunctional relationship, eating disorder, anxiety, depression, adult situations

Gif Credit: @englandsdreaming Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs!

Please Read: This is a very dark imagine. Perhaps one of the darkest I’ve ever written. But I’ve always wanted to try and put to words what an eating disorder can be like in all it’s complexities and contradictions. That it’s not about food and body shape. It’s about emotions and unhealthy ways of coping. Also, eating disorders were not well understood back in the 1920′s, which would have made it more confusing to those who saw it happening, but didn’t understand. And in case you’re wondering at the end whether Tommy loved her or not, He did, but he’s broken in his own way too… But that’s a different story. And to his defense, I imagine her didn’t cheat on her constantly. Only every now and then with Lizzie, when the moment took him, and other women when it served him in his business pursuits (think Jessie Eden). Not that that would make it right or ease June’s pain.

Please heed the trigger warnings. There is no shame in not reading this. I’m not even sure anyone will enjoy it. It certainly came from a darker place in my soul, but I wanted to write it. This ones for me, but if you gain something from it, Wonderful! It’s also a one-shot. One and done, that’s it.

And somehow watching this vid and listening to this song one too many times, inspired this madness…

https://vimeo.com/108003855 & https://youtu.be/C7VxXRR8BEI

You come downstairs early in morning in a simple but lovely floral dress that dances and sways around you as you move, your hair curled, make-up finished, graceful and breathtaking - just for him.

Charlie dangling off your hip as you enter the oversize dining room, making your way to the far end of the table where Thomas sits at the head of it, his face nearly blinded by the morning paper spread out wide in his hands. You take a seat and place Charlie in your lap, kissing at the apples on his plump little cheeks as he giggles and squirms, before Frances comes in from the other room.

“Morning Mrs. Shelby,” She greets your politely. “Shall I bring out your breakfast?”

You eye the endless plates scattered around the table before your husband, all full and untouched as usual, before you glance back up at Frances and smile. Your belly gnaws, but the tea will sooth it.

“Just tea for me, please.”

Something in her eyes saddens with your answer and you have to look away unable to meet her knowing gaze. Your eyes drifting over to Tommy or where his face should be if it weren’t buried in the paper.

“You aren’t hungry, Ma’am?” She inquires further and you can practically hear the thoughts swirling in her head that never leave her lips. You know she means well. Frances is kind, concerned and you appreciate it, but she can’t save you.

You glance up briefly, but never meet her gaze.

“No, I’m feeling a little under the weather actually.” You lie with a simple shake of your head. Pulling a quick excuse, you’re good at that. Say something often enough and it becomes easier to recite than the truth.

But your answer does stir him as Tommy lowers and folds the paper. Placing it back on the table to look at you as France hurries off to get your tea.

“You’re feeling ill?” He inquires, something close to concern mounting in his guarded eyes.

You love his attention as much as you hate it. Hate the way you still crave it and get excited when it’s earned. You shake your head to reassure your husband, forcing a smile, always pleasant, always kind. Illness would only bring alarm to Tommy’s mind and while it would give you the attention you crave from him, not even you’re that desperate.

“Charlie was up most of night, that’s all. Just a little tired.”

He nods, accepting your answer as his attention turns to the toddler in your lap.

“Did you keep mumma up all night.” Tommy asks, genuinely smiling as he reaches for his son. He used to smile at you like that. His whole face would light up and draw you in like a moth to a flame. The softest part of Tommy reserved for his son these days. Pulling the toddler onto his lap as he quietly plays with him.

Frances returns with your tea as you stare absently the scene before you. The beauty of your little family as you stand at the edge of it all. Like a stranger on the outside looking in…

You met Tommy at the races. You took the bets while Thomas Shelby controlled the Worcester Races, the gambling end of it anyway. He fancied many girls back then, all briefly, taking what he wanted before sending them on their way. So when you caught Mr. Shelby’s eye, you refused to be another notch on his belt. You were an independent woman, you could take care of yourself. And while he was strikingly handsome with the most hypnotic eyes you had ever seen, you had enough moral backbone to resist the temptation.

Your father and mother were devout Catholics, and you were raised as such in a strict home, where high standards were the expectation. In adulthood, you sought freedom, moving in with your brother and his wife in the city. Helping out with the children and securing a job at Worcester. You wanted to explore freedoms outside the sheltered little world you grew up, but you weren’t about to get mixed up with the likes of a man like Thomas Shelby either. And perhaps that’s why he worked so hard to win you over.

You held your ground as long as you could, but eventually you gave in, after you made him work for it, because you found you were as attracted and intrigued by him as he seemed to be taken with you. To your surprise, Tommy loved your loud laugh and the little songs your like to sing. He loved hearing about your favorite books, hearing about what it was like going up in the country, and he loved taking you out to dance.

The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself falling for the man behind the myth. Someone who could be kind and gentle, but only with a select few. Who had a thirst for knowledge and unyielding sense of ambition. You admired him and the life he had built for himself. His charisma, his magnetism, he was a like force of nature you couldn’t help but be drawn to and Tommy appeared equally smitten. Your connection felt real and growing fast. You were on fire, but like any raging inferno, sometimes the flames can become so hot they burn themselves out.

When you became pregnant so quickly, you were terrified. You weren’t supposed to sleep with a man out of wedlock, weren’t supposed to bear his child, that was a mortal sin in your home growing up… Let alone with a man like Thomas Shelby. Trying to ease your fears, Tommy told you he “knew a woman”… You knew what that meant. The fear inside you whispered it was for the best. Take care of it before anyone knows what you’ve done.

But that was an even bigger sin than bearing a child out of wedlock. And that wasn’t even what haunted you the most, you were never as pious as you knew you should be. It was the idea of getting rid of what you created with him. What you made with the man you love, a little you and a little him, growing inside you. Looking into Tommy’s piercing sapphire eyes as tears welled up in your own, you told him you couldn’t do that. And just like that you gave up everything you’d ever known.

The boat began to shift on the rocky seas of your life after the baby. You got the idea from Tommy actually, the man who never eats. It started out simple, after the baby was born. Just to lose a few pounds. Get back to the way you were before.

All women do it. In one way or another. It was easy enough you found, to just skip a meal, here or there. Your efforts were praised when you bounced back so quickly after the baby. Everyone complimented how beautiful you looked and how easy it seemed for you. But what mattered was Tommy loved it, he thought you looked beautiful and that meant everything in your eyes.

Everything changed after all the Shelby’s got locked up, sent to prison. All the Shelby’s, but Tommy. He changed after that and so did you. Suddenly you found you had no one with his family gone. Your family was ashamed after you got pregnant by the notorious gangster of Birmingham.

Cutting ties after you married him. The loss was painful like severing an arm or losing your identity, but Tommy and his family welcomed you with open arms and for a time that was more than enough. Until they were gone. And all you had was Tommy and his broken heart. Tommy and all the choices he’d made in his life. The choices he could live with and the ones he didn’t know how.

Tommy always worked long hours. He had more drive any man you’d ever known. Just one of the many things you found yourself drawn to in him, but after the Shelby’s went away, the hours at the work or in his private office at home grew longer and longer. When his family got out, you had hoped things would change, but all that was dashed away as they cut him off as swiftly as your own family had. And as Thomas Shelby’s wife, that meant you and Charlie too.

It broke your husbands heart and your own to watch him suffer so greatly. To lose sight of himself without the compass of his family. Powerless to change it, though lord knows you tried, but no one was budging. You tried to pull Tommy near, tried to be everything he needed. Love him harder, stronger to fill in the gaps, but the more you pulled, the more he pushed. The more you tried to sparkle in his eyes, the more he slipped away.

And eventually, you grew tired of the fight. Only so many times someone can turn you away before your heart can’t bare reaching anymore. You knew Tommy could be cold and distant, but you had no idea how worthless and isolated that would make you feel until you were on the receiving end of it.

You spent your days at the Arrow House. Living a life of luxury, you could have never imagined before Thomas. A world with anything your heart could desire and yet, you were completely alone in it. Tommy wasn’t though. You learned that the hard way. When you went to surprise him at his office late in the evening, one of your silly attempts to spark up your marriage. You were a fool…

Standing in the shadows of the main office, gazing into his private one through the glass windows that lined it, you watched as your husband held his secretary over his desk and fucked her senseless. You don’t know how long you stood there. Blinking – frozen – heart racing so fast you thought you couldn’t breathe as you watched your Thomas fuck Lizzie over his desk. In your mind it felt like forever. In your mind you can still hear the pounding on the desk, the sound of her cries, the grunt of his. You can still see it clearly even today. Only today, you know Lizzie isn’t only the one.

That night ripped open everything that had been building and festering inside you. Every insecurity you had about yourself and your marriage, about your worth. You didn’t know if you were more heart broken or angry. The emotions too intense and unleashed inside you to be pinpointed to a single one.

You wanted to leave him. Pack your things, take Charlie and go, but where? You had nothing outside of Tommy. No one. You had sacrificed everything for him. You were trapped. Bound and held to the fire of your life. You were screaming at the top of your lungs and not a soul could hear you or cared to listen.

That night you slept in the rocking chair in Charlie’s room beside your young son. And in the morning, when it was time for your family breakfast, you found you couldn’t eat. Sitting beside your husband at the table, picturing him fucking Lizzie over it.

You belly so tied up in knots, you couldn’t stand the thought of it without wanting to vomit. You could hardly breathe, nerves racing through your veins. Tommy’s eyes scanning over the plate you hadn’t touched. He didn’t speak a word, but the question lingered in his eyes… What’s wrong? Are you alright?

That moment was glorious. Tommy could hold you to the flames, but this - this he couldn’t make you do. That epiphany, that power, sent you tripping into a rabbit hole you’ve been falling down ever since.

You hated the way you loved him. Hated the way you still craved his approval, his attention even as he broke your heart, but now you had an escape and it gave a voice to the hollowness aching inside you. A blinding distraction from the loneliness you felt. Alone most of the day in such a large house, it was easy to choose not to eat.

It amazed you how easy it became to lie about it too, but then again you had been lying to yourself for far much longer than that. Letting excuses fall like prayers from your lips to maids who were in little position to insist. You eat enough to not rouse suspicion, but you long for the company the feeling of emptiness brings. Ever present, never abandoning you when times are tough. Quite the contrary, it holds steadfast when everyone else is long gone. Promising it’ll never leave you like the rest. Surely there’s a price for its love and commitment, but what love doesn’t?

The emptiness inside you soothes the ache of your heart. It comforts and reassures your heart it isn’t alone in its suffering. The pain of hunger slowly quiet with time too. Your body giving up on sending a message no one was receiving. And the euphoria you felt when you went too long, was the closest thing to real pleasure your heart was feeling.

Tommy still finds his way to press against you most nights of the week, ravenous for your kiss and the taste of your flesh. As if he can’t get enough, as if he’s gone too long without it. And you give it freely, your body is his for the taking. The honey between your thighs is all his, anyway he wants it, whenever he wants it. Because you still love him and want to be a good wife… Because he’s miles away from you the rest of the time… Because he already took your soul.

The first time you black out and nearly faint, you’re embarrassed of yourself. It’s at a fundraiser with all the social elite of Birmingham. To drum up new business dealings you’d image, but Tommy doesn’t tell you anything about the business these days. Slim and lean, petite and slender was all the rage and no one did it better than you… No one was prettier or happier than Thomas Shelby’s wife. You played the part, a vision with your bubbly laugh and blinding smile, as your silk dress dipped low in the front and skimmed revealingly over your petite body. Your short hair in shiny marcel waves, a sparkling oversize gem hanging from your neck.

You had too much champagne that night and almost nothing to eat that day. A combination that turned against you as you rose too quickly from your table. Everything went dark as if someone had drawn the curtains in your eyes. You could feel them open as you blinked, but only darkness awaited you. You could hear the party going on around you, the melody of live music, the clatter of dancing feet, as you clutch wildly at the table top trying to stabilize yourself, as your knees buckle and your legs start to give way.

“June,” Tommy sounds frantic in your ears, his voice desperate in a way you haven’t heard before as you feel his strong arms swoop in around you, lifting you up and against him. “Get out of my fuckin way.”

June – like the summer, though you feel like you haven’t felt the sun in ages.

“Tommy, I can’t see.” You weakly gasp out, frightened as you cling to him, listening to the noise of the party grow fainter as he carries you away, your limbs trembling beyond your control in his arms.

Tommy insists you see doctor even after your vision returns and the shakes stop… After you finally eat. Dehydration the doctor says, because you tell him you feel fine and he can’t find anything wrong with you. Lies, always lies, more familiar to you than the truth these days.

Bed rest is the order and Tommy doesn’t leave your side. Looming over you, clutching your hand, stroking your face, holding you close to him in your bed. Catering to you in a way he hasn’t since you were pregnant with Charlie. You hadn’t realized how badly you missed his affections until you finally got a real taste of them. Even Polly calls to check on you. Refusing to speak to Thomas still, but her voice is like a breath of fresh air. You’ve missed her desperately.

But all good things must come to an end, and when your bed rest is over and everything returns to the way it was. And the hours alone only seem to feel longer now. As if they echo off the walls, taunting you with everything you have… And everything you don’t. When your insides tremble and your thoughts race, focusing your mind on food and restricting calms the chaos raging inside you. You find feeling empty is the only way you know how to scream. Giving voice to the sound of your heart when it breaks. Comforting you in its consistency when you have nothing left.

You wonder if Tommy notices something is happening when he begins taking you out to dinner more. He’s barely had time for you up to this point, always busy with work, but suddenly he’s taking you out once a week. You wonder if Frances said something, but then Tommy only brings you to restaurants, always the finest, but food is always the focus. It’s hard to keep his attention, he’s preoccupied with business even when you’re out, but now you catch him watching your plate and it isn’t just the help that’s catching onto your little secret.

But you’re a master at abating the truth by now, so you play the part. Smiling as you ask about work, moving to take a bite before pretending to get distracted by something he says. Sipping away at your drink as you move food around on your plate until it looks messy - devoured because even in his concern, he doesn’t see you… He sees an issue arising, a problem he needs to handle before it gets out of hand.

It’s a weak moment when Tommy shows you his hand. Lying in bed with you, come to claim what’s rightfully his by vow, as he tosses your balled-up slip onto the floor after slipping it off you. Lowering back down over your body, Tommy searches for your eyes, but you only pull him in for a heated kiss. You can’t look into his eyes and not wonder if he looks at other women the same way when he fucks them. It eats you alive, so you stopped looking.

His mouth trails your body, making your senses come alive, your nerves tingle, always a generous lover. Skilled with his hands and mouth, he loves to make you beg and moan before he ever gives you what you want. And when he’s inside you, buried deep within you - you can almost swear he’s only yours. You can almost convince yourself you know what it’s like to truly be whole and not empty inside.

The feel of Tommy’s warm mouth wrapping around your flesh, the smooth wet feel of his tongue against you, stroking all the places he knows make you weak, your body responds even when your heart has given up on him. This you can still do, here as he finds a home between your thighs – you can still pretend… as long you don’t open your eyes.

You feel Tommy’s hands seduce all your weak spots, his mouth trailing lazily behind as you arch into his touch and beg for more. But as he reaches your hips, you feel him linger, his thumb running along the outline of your bone. You take special care to ensure you’re not too skinny, never enough to raise any alarms. You’re petite, slender, slim, not sickly. You’re always in control.

But your body has changed and no one knows that better than Thomas. No one’s gotten a closer view than him. His hand slips down along your thigh as Tommy’s lips replace his previous touch, leaving tender little kisses along the curve of your hipbone as you sigh deeply with the feel of it. He buries his face in the intent of your soft belly, breathing heavily against your skin in a way that leaves tingles running down your spine as you rake your fingers through his hair and hold him close.

“What are you doin’ to yourself, June?” Tommy breathes against you, a quiet desperation on his breath as if he doesn’t understand.

Moving up your body, hands roaming across the bottom outline of your ribcage before his lips pepper your bare skin in fervent kisses. His mouth trails your body, melting you as he goes, until he reaches for your cheek and calls your name, and you echo his back, begging for his kiss that never comes.

“Look at me.” Tommy insists, but you resist, struggling against the intimacy of his request. Struggling to reveal yourself after he’s hurt you so badly, but you can see he isn’t going to let it rest until you do, so you try to guard yourself and relent. Meeting his gaze as he softly strokes your cheek with a callused thumb.

“Why don’t you eat?” He quietly asks, gazing down into the depth of your eyes as he hovers over your body, revealed for him to see. His piercing blues like probes, seeing deep within you even as you try to keep him out.

Tommy’s words feel like a punch to your gut, it nearly knocks the wind out of you as you stare back at him. Why do you fuck other women? Why do you drink all the time and ignore me except in moments like this? Why am I not enough for you? I’m your wife… Your heart breaks as you ponder inescapable truths, tears pooling in your eyes. But you can’t say them aloud, so use to keeping quiet, your tongue has forgotten how to speak the truth.

“If I’m not what you want, don’t trouble yourself.” You spit out, your jaw tight with unspoken venom as you quickly turn away from him. Ashamed of your body and yourself, you slip out from underneath him and roll onto your side, but you don’t get far before Tommy snakes an arm around your waist and drags you back to him.

You fight and struggle against him as his mouth slams into yours. Kissing you so hard you swear he’s trying to resuscitate the life back into you, his hand gripping at your wrists as you fight him. Pinning them down to the bed as his lips move frantically against your own.

“I fuckin want you, June.” Tommy insists against the press of your mouth, trying to make you believe him as you continue to resist. “Only you.”

Angry at him for making you look at the truth. Angry as yourself for letting him. It’s ugly and messy as he pins you beneath him and works his way between your legs once again, trying to convince you with his kiss. But then he says it… I love you.

His voice desperate and real in a way you haven’t heard from Tommy in so long you instantly stop fighting him. His heavy breath fans your face, his eyes barreling into yours as he says it again and pushes inside you. You feel so fucking weak, because this is the place where you can almost believe he’s yours, saying the words you’re so desperate to hear him say and it only takes a few moments before you’re kissing him back. Fervently, desperately, as he fucks you as if it’ll fix whatever’s broken inside. You wrap your legs around him, frantically pulling him as close as you can get as you beg him not to stop as if you believe it too…

But it doesn’t fix you, no matter how hard he fucks you, no matter how many times he makes you cum. In the morning, everything always goes back to the way it was… You’re alone in your mansion that feels like a prison slowly chipping away at your mind.

But you have Charlie. You’re precious Charlie. The best of both you and Tommy. Your compass when lost at sea. You find joy in all his tiny triumphs. Watching him grow and learn is the highlight of your life. One you feel blessed to have. To be his mother. A mother. But some days you even feel like a failure at that too, because you’re too sad to get out of bed. Too weak to run after him, to play too long with him, because your body is slowly dying like your heart.

It’s times like that you want to stop destroying yourself, but you can’t. It’s all you have left to hold onto. The only way you can cope. And you fear one day Charlie will find you as disappointing as his father does. Because Tommy may praise you when you play the good wife, but you’re just a ghost in his life the rest of the time.

You tell yourself you’re fine, even when you feel weak. Even though you know you’re not. Because there’s a hole inside you that nothing can fill.

You finally get the courage to leave when you find out your pregnant with your second child. Your last desperate attempt at self-preservation. For the sake of your children you have to try to find the sunlight in June once again. Tommy’s been dropping not so subtle hints for months he wants another baby, and he’s been coming inside you for twice as long. Only thing he seems to have left to give you is empty promises and his seed. But your flow hasn’t come regularly for some time. And you’ve learned missing a month doesn’t necessarily mean anything… But this time it did.

The final blow comes when you call Tommy’s office late in that evening to see when he’ll be home to tell him the news and Lizzie answers. She’s nice to you, she’s always nice to you and as far as you can tell you still doesn’t know that you know. But you hang up before you can say anything.

Then you call Polly instead. You haven’t spoken to her in months, not since you got sick. But when you ask if you and Charlie can come stay with her for a bit, she doesn’t hesitate. You pack up what you can fit in a small suitcase and have the driver take you to her house. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done, leaving him. Far harder than pushing away that plate. Far harder than watching yourself waste away to save your marriage as you suffer in silence. Far harder than crushing your soul to stand by his side.

But you can’t do it anymore. The things you’re doing to yourself could harm the baby and you can’t risk that. Not for Tommy. Not for anyone. Your babies are all you have in this world. The only light in a sea of darkness. And you know if you stay you won’t stop. Your marriage with Tommy is too toxic to bring another child into. This was the only choice you have left.

You look back as the car drives away and think of the letter you left him on the bed. Hoping he’ll understand…

Tommy,

I know about all of it. Everything you want me to and everything you don’t. I love you and I probably always will, but I can’t stay and survive any longer. Please try to understand this is what I must do for our children.

Perhaps in another life…

June

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